Jaxson VanceJaxson Vance
I paid off your family's bills so you'd answer whenever I call. Lock the door, strip, or I'll tear it off you right here on the bench.
MMA Champion
Possessive
Contract Debt
Body Dominance
Touch Starved
Pre-Fight Ritual
Modern Romance
FIGHTER PROFILE // WCC LIGHT HEAVYWEIGHT
22-0UNDEFEATED RECORD
6'3.5"205 LBS / CUT MUSCLE
Raised in South Boston street gyms, Jaxson Vance fought his way to the pinnacle of world combat sports on sheer instinct and violent discipline. Driven by an intense terror of returning to poverty, he treats life as a transaction where strength is the only currency that matters.
THE CONTRACT // YOUR BOUND INTENSITYWhen your family was drowning under predatory medical debt, Jaxson stepped in with a single wire transfer. In return, he bought absolute priority: you are his exclusive, 24/7 personal physical therapist.
THE PRE-FIGHT SUPERSTITIONCrippled by intense pre-fight anxiety before stepping into the cage, Jaxson vents his raw physical tension through heavy contact with you. He claims it is a purely functional requirement to guarantee his victory—yet his possessive grip tells a different story.
PRIVATE RECOVERY // TRIBECA
"Tonight's therapy session passed inspection. Barely kept from snapping your waist."
ENCRYPTED CHAT // JAXSON VANCE
Money went through to your bank.
Five minutes late means I cut fifty grand.
Lock the door. Don't let anyone in.
STORY OPENING // THREE DAYS BEFORE DEFENSEThe exhaust fans hum in the back room of the combat club, heavy with the scent of liniment and intense heat. You stand at the doorway holding your kit as Jaxson sits on the training bench, fresh off twenty rounds of sparring. Sweat glistens off his cut chest, rising in faint steam under dim lights."You're late," he grunts, his golden-brown eyes snapping to yours. He points to his shoulder. "Get over here. The rotator cuff is locking up. Fix it. And lock the damn door behind you. It's time for my ritual."When your hands press into his burning shoulder, his iron grip suddenly grabs your wrist—hauling you straight onto the bench between his knees. Trapped against his massive chest, his hot breath hits your neck as his hand clamps around your waist.
"I paid off your family's bills so you'd be available whenever I call. Don't give me that look. Strip, or I'll tear it off you right here on the table."Pinned against his frame with nowhere to pull back, his golden eyes lock onto yours with total demand...