❤️‍🔥Welcome To The Circus❤️‍🔥

I was the one who saw him training so hard that his muscles hurt. I was the one who saw him pushing so hard, physically and mentally. I was the one who saw how much this match meant to him, and finally seeing him pin Punk for the title, I couldn’t control any sort of reaction.

I waited outside of the gorilla, hands intertwined together as I anxiously waited for Roman to make his appearance. My legs were shaking the slightest bit, the emotions making my body act whack. The hallways backstage were way quieter, as many of the superstars headed back to their hotels or were busy doing media and interviews. But I stayed, because I needed to hold Roman in my arms. I needed to tell him how proud I was.

And as soon as he walked through the black curtains with his newly-won title hanging by his side, my stomach fired up again with flips of many feelings. Roman’s eyes found mine instantly, as if it was a physiological response all day every day. His smile was soft and relaxed, a huff of the lightest chuckle leaving his mouth as he saw me—and only me—waiting for him on the other side of his insane, hectic world.

I didn’t say a single word. I just rushed a few steps forward, crushing myself into Roman’s large, muscular body and holding him close. Every last muscle that was tense in his body relaxed instantly as his head dipped down on top of mine. He tossed his title on the nearest equipment crate, wrapping both of his arms around my body like I was his lifeline. Hell, it was really the opposite.

“You did amazing. I knew you would.” I said, lifting my head off of his chest to gleam into his dark, glowing eyes. He dipped his chin, pressing a light, feathery kiss on my forehead. His hand rubbed circles against my back, igniting every dull nerve in my body.

He let out a long sigh, all of the stress from the lead up for this suspense-filled night all coming to a close. He cradled my face with his large hands, his thumbs grazing across my jawline.

“Thank you for being here.” He replied, his eyes burning into mine with such intensity that made my whole body shiver. He was a man who wasn’t afraid to show how much he truly loved someone, and that was one of my favorite parts about him. “You don’t know how much it means to me to see you waiting here for me.”

“I always will.” I replied softly, my hands resting on his hips with my pinky fingers grazing against the waistline of his cargo pants. Roman dipped his head, his lips pressing lightly against my own before standing up straight, glancing around the area that had a few more superstars roaming around and a few employees who were working on shutting the show down. I knew how he felt about publicly expressing his relationships.

He wasn’t against it. Not at all. He will scream loud and proud that he has a wife and that he loves her to death, but he doesn’t post a dozen pictures of us. Hell, I don’t think anyone has ever seen us kiss except for our wedding photos. Sure, we post photos every now and then of us at a red carpet event or something, but it has always been kept low.

“Need a shower before your press conference?” I asked, taking a step back so Roman could reach out and grab his title. He scoffed with absolute need, nodding his head.

“If I go without one, people will think I had a hell of a time celebrating.”

I laughed, Roman’s arm pulling me against his side as we walked through the backstage halls and into the nice locker rooms that belonged to the NFL’s Raiders. I sat down on a bench next to where Roman placed his title. He sat down across from me, starting to untie his shoes.

We sat quietly, because the truth was, I was speechless. I felt like I still needed time to process everything, and that Roman might as well. It always felt like this after huge wins.

“Join me.”

I shot my head up, looking over at Roman who was now only in his boxers, glancing up at me with a dim smirk on his lips. I blinked, caught off guard for a split moment. “Huh?”

“Come shower with me. You’re all I wanna be with right now.”

I let my eyes fall shut momentarily, soaking in the sweet words of a man who could look so dangerous and hypocritical. But I easily saw beyond his past character traits, so madly in love with the real man.

I stood up, grabbing his hand he extended out for me. He led me into the shower area, turning the handle and watching the water spurt out from the shower head. He ran his hand through his dried-out hair, turning over towards me. The corners of his lips perked up the slightest.

“Arms up.” He said, motioning upwards with his pointer finger. I smiled, raising my arms up in the air as Roman softly gripped the ends of my cotton tank top. He smoothly pulled it over my head, his eyes drinking in my smaller frame from beneath him. He really took his time, staring at my breasts that looked hella good in my black lace bra before moving south.

He then slowly knelt down, his eyes glued to mine as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of my leggings and panties as well. His warm fingers glided all the way down my legs as he slowly undressed me, tossing my clothes off to the side.

The moment felt subtle but intense at the same time. Heat rushed throughout my body just with Roman’s eyes on me; by the way his hands ran softly along my curves, worshipping every part of me.

Soon enough, my bra was tossed away along with Roman’s boxers, and we were settled under the fall of the steaming water from the shower. The warm water felt like heaven against my back, and the feeling of being in Roman’s arms made the amazing sensation double.

“How did it feel,” I started softly, rubbing softly against his tattooed pectoral, “when you pinned him? All by yourself. What went through your head?”

I didn’t need to look up to know the look on Roman’s face. It was like I could hear the gears turning in his head as he replayed his historic moment.

“Grateful.” He replied simply, arms wrapped around me like he was my personal bodyguard. “I felt grateful that I was given that moment. I was grateful for all my fans and all my haters. All of it got me here.”

He dipped his chin, his eyes gazing over my body underneath him. “But the main thing that went through my head was that I knew my wife was waiting for me backstage. I could already picture the look on her face as she stood there, her eyes telling the whole story of how proud she was of me. That was the main thing.”

My lips parted with a half-laugh, half-sob. I clung to Roman even harder, craving his protective presence.

“I am so proud of you.” I started again, this time lifting my head so I could look into those dark irises. “So, so proud of you.“

Roman’s smile was contagious. His perfect teeth showed, the apples of his cheeks so round and perfect. I lifted my hand, running down the side of his face and through his stubbled cheek and jawline.

“Got any celebration plans?” I questioned, already knowing the answer. I always liked to joke with him, because he has never been the biggest party guy. Especially not after an incident at a bar that ended up with ketchup sprayed all along his back and a screaming stranger who had no idea who the fuck he was messing with.

“I do, actually,” He replied, his hands trailing farther down and softly but firmly gripping my ass. I splayed my hands against his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath my palms. He dipped my mouth towards the shell of my ear. “And it involves your pretty ass to get down on your knees right now.”

My brows shot up. Not from the bizarreness of it all, but because of how unexpected it was. But when my man suggested anything that I could do to make him feel better, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Especially when it involved getting my hands on the part of him that only I get to see.

Grinning from ear to ear, I rose to my tip toes and placed one firm kiss on his lips before slowly lowering myself down onto the floor. The tile bit into my knees, but the pain did nothing to overtake the hot and exciting sensation that started to flood my body. I gripped his growing erection with both hands, the skin-to-skin contact causing a sharp exhale from the man above me.

“Is this what you were talking about?” I asked, my hands moving skillfully and they twisted and pumped around his hard length. “Is this the kind of celebration you want?”

Roman gazed down at me, taking one large hand and collecting all of my hair in his grip. The slight sharpness of pain from tugging my hair did nothing but excite me even more.

“Yes, baby—” he whispered just as I leaned in and kissed the head of his cock. He sucked in another sharp breath as I slowly took him into my mouth. My tongue immediately lapped around his hardness, feeling the veins popping through his erected skin. “—yes, baby.” He repeated even louder.

My moments were slow—sensual. My hands worked softly around him while I continued to work him in my mouth. All the heat in my body traveled downwards every time a soft pant or groan left Roman’s lips. I took my time, making sure to please every single part of him, as he deserved the best celebration ever.

“Yes, keep going, baby. You do me so fucking good.” Roman panted, a soft thump sounding as his head fell back against the wall of the shower. I kept my pace, sliding one of my hands from his length back to cup his balls, massaging them in my hands.

I could tell by his loud panting and twitching cock that he was slowly but surely approaching the edge. But what I was not expecting was my body to be lifted off the ground, my his cock driving out of my lips with an audible ‘pop.’

My back was suddenly against the wall, and I was trapped between that very wall and my champion of a man. He propped one of my legs up against his hip, forcing me to feel the hardness of him against my hot core. Droplets of water raced down his face as he caressed my cheeks and leaned his forehead against my own.

“Did I forget to mention it also involved this?”

Suddenly, his whole cock was driven inside of me.

A loud gasp tore through my throat. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into the crook between his shoulder and his neck. The full sensation of him always took me by storm, igniting a crazy flame in my entire body. My body never seemed to get used to his size, as the stretch felt like it was the first time.

“Oh my god, Roman—“ I squeaked, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my hands so hard. His lips ghosted over my skin as he worked his hips and thrusted his cock into me with a methodical rhythm. My clit bounced off his pelvic bone with each thrust, which built the hot feeling in my lower stomach even more.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” Roman panted, crushing his lips against my own. I whimpered against his plush lips, which then turned into a gasp as I was hoisted up into his arms. My legs were flailed over his arms, which gave him all power over me. All I could do was hold on for dear life, even though I knew he would never let me fall.

He then lowered me down onto him fully, which drove his cock way deeper than before. A sound that was pretty close to a scream rippled through my throat as he bounced me on top of him.

“Let me hear you, honey. I love the sounds you make when I’m fucking you like this.”

I thought that I was the one giving him a little treat; instead, it feels like he’s giving me a mind blowing prize of his own.

My orgasm drew closer and closer just by the thought that my noises were secretly getting Roman off—driving him crazy. I let my mouth fall open so any sort of audible sound I made would be heard.

“Too good…” I whispered, running my fingers through his drenched hair. “You fuck me so good.”

“Yeah? Is that right, pretty girl?”

When I didn’t respond right away—as I was drunk over the way Roman’s cock pumped inside of me—his rhythmic thrusts suddenly turned violent. His hips snapped against my own, the clapping sound echoing off of walls. Loud moans lurched through my throat, my orgasm now on the very peak of breaking through.

“Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” Roman asked again when I still hadn’t responded, his voice deeper and bolder. I frantically nodded my head, my pussy clenching around his cock.

“Yes! Yes you fuck me so good—“

A loud, drawn-out moan from my mouth pierced the air as my orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. My body went totally limp in Roman’s arms as he held me up, fucking me softly through my high.

“Atta, girl.” He whispered, keeping his slow rhythm as he soothed me out. I leaned forward, kissing him deeply while running my hands along his masculine body.

He gave me a good treat, now I need to give him an even better one.

“Faster,” I panted, gripping onto his building triceps. “I need to feel you come inside of me.”

A low, dominant growl left Roman’s mouth. He placed me down on the ground, then spinning me around and pinning me against the wall once more. I pressed my palms against the smooth tiled walls as Roman’s cock slid into me with ease.

He reached forwards, looping his arms into mine and pulling me back against him as he ruthlessly pounded into me. I found it so impressive that he had this much power and energy after having a forty minute match.

“Jesus Christ,” Roman muttered, splaying kisses along my neck and back. “You feel so fucking good. So perfect.”

The next two minutes were overwhelmingly perfect. My legs were trembling under my weight to the point where Roman was technically lifting me up along with himself. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, spilling and milking himself in my warmth.

Our heavy pants were synced as we both came down from our highs. Roman slowly eased out of me, his semen slowly started to leak down my legs. The shower washed it away quicker than I liked, but at least I was able to get the erotic sight of it.

“Were you satisfied with your celebration plans?” I asked through soft breaths, turning my head to look into those deep eyes of his. A soft smile grew on his lips as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on my shoulder. He reached for the body soap bottle against the wall, pumping two splotches of it in his hands before slowly starting to spread the soap over my body.

“Best celebration I ever had. Ain’t no beating that.” He replied, continuing to bath me under the water that seemed almost too warm for comfort. I closed my eyes, soaking in the softness of him at that very moment.

“I love you, baby. Congratulations.” I whispered, leaning my head back against his broad shoulder. He tilted his head, planting a long, firm kiss on my temple.

“Thank you, honey. I love you even more.” He whispered back. He stayed there for a while, basking in the warm feeling of everything that’s seemed to become calmer since his match ended. But me?

You moaned, loud and broken, legs locked tight around his waist as he fucked you deep and mean. His mouth was right at your ear, voice low and cruel. Hot breath against the shell of it.

“Listen to that sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”

He was growling. Hips snapping hard enough to make the bed creak underneath you. 

“You creamin’ all over my dick. You really needed this, huh? Just spread them legs and took it.”

You moaned louder, nails digging into his back as your walls clenched around him. He just felt so thick. So hot. Stretching you open with every rough stroke. 

Every thrust making a loud, rhythmic plap. The heavy, fleshy collision of his hips meeting yours. The slick friction echoing sharp and constant in the room.

It was all so much— your thighs shook beneath him, arousal coating his length and drilling steadily down to soak the sheets. Every time he bottomed out, you could feel it deep in your stomach.

“Jey— fuck!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he rasped, teeth scraping your ear hard enough to sting. “You better say my name. Ain’t nobody else fuckin’ your shit up this good.”

His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, chest slick with sweat. Sliding heavy against yours. You could feel every inch of him. The thick stretch, him grinding on your clit when he rolled his hips, the heat pouring off his skin like a furnace. Your pussy was fluttering and clenching helplessly around him.

You were so wet. Embarrassingly wet. The lewd squelch of it was louder than your own moans.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs higher up over his shoulder, so he could fuck you deeper. The new angle made you cry out. His voice dropped even lower, right against your ear, mean and filthy and relentless.

“Look at you— can’t even talk. Taking this dick so good you ain’t thinkin’… Mhm, all you know how to do is let me use you.”

You were burning up. Skin sticky with sweat. The heat between your bodies was almost unbearable. His perfect cock was dragging against your walls with every thrust, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

You were so close. So fucking close. Thighs shaking, pussy clenching tighter and tighter around him as you felt that hot pressure build low in your belly.

“J-Jey, please—”

He laughed low and dark against your ear, his hips snapping harder.

“Yeah? You gon’ cum for me like a good little whore? Do it.”

Everything tightened. The heat, the stretch, the drag of his cock, his voice growling filth right into your ear— until it snapped.

Your eyes flew open with a sharp, desperate gasp.

The bedroom was dark and quiet. The only light was a thin sliver from the cracked bathroom door. For one disorienting second you had no idea where you were.

The dream was still clinging to you, thick and heavy and far too real. Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to punch its way out of your chest. Your skin was on fire, actual fire. A deep, feverish heat radiating from the inside out.

Sweat had already cooled on your chest and the back of your neck, leaving your thin tank top plastered to you like a second, sticky layer. The sheets were twisted around your legs, clinging in damp patches to the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

You rolled onto your side, breathing fast and shallow, trying to calm down. But your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

Between your thighs, you were soaked. Truly, embarrassingly soaked. Your panties were drenched, the fabric cold and tacky where it sat clinging to your swollen folds. Your clit was throbbing so hard it almost hurt. Each pulse sending sharp little shocks of need straight up your spine.

Your pussy felt empty and aching. A deep, gnawing itch you just couldn’t scratch, clenching uselessly around nothing. That imaginary stretch and fullness from the dream was still there, echoing between your legs like a cruel joke. 

You could still feel the heavy drag of his cock, the way it split you open, the way it bottomed out so deep you could feel it in your stomach.

But there was nothing now.

No weight pinning you down. No hot breath in your ear growling filthy things. No thick stretch and pulse of him buried inside you.

Just sweat, the tacky cling of your skin, and the humiliating wetness soaking through your panties and leaking onto the sheets beneath you.

Oh my god.

The thought hit you like a slap. Your face burned hotter than the rest of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, mortified, thighs pressing together so tight that it only made the ache worse.

You could still hear his cruel voice telling you how sloppy you were, how greedy, how pathetic you were for needing him that bad.

That wasn’t him.

That wasn’t your Jey.

Your Jey was soft and patient and gentle. Even when he was in control. He didn’t talk to you like that. He never has.

And yet… some traitorous part of you had liked it. Liked the edge in his voice. Liked the way he used you. Liked feeling small and filthy and completely owned.

You pressed your face into the pillow. A tiny, frustrated whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

You turned your head just enough to look at him in the low light, and the sight of him made your chest tighten.

Jey was sprawled on his stomach, limbs thrown out everywhere, taking up more than half the bed like he always did. One arm was stretched toward you, the other bent awkwardly under the pillow. His long legs tangled in the sheets, one knee hiked up, the other kicked out toward the edge.

His cheek was smashed against the pillow, face turned completely to the side, lips parted just a little. A thin string of drool shone at the corner of his mouth, slowly stretching toward the fabric. His curls were a wild mess across his forehead and the pillow, and his chain had slipped slightly so the metal rested against the pillowcase instead of his collarbone.

He looked… messy. Human. A little ridiculous.

And he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your throat tightened.

How could I dream him like that? 

Mean and cruel and using you like you were nothing. 

This was your Jey. Soft and open and safe. Drooling on the pillow like a big kid, limbs everywhere. Breathing slow and steady like the world could end and he wouldn’t even notice.

This is the man you loved. The one who held you like you were his favorite thing in the whole world world. The one who never said a harsh word to you unless it was wrapped in so much love you couldn’t breathe.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, shame and affection crashing together so hard it almost hurt.

God, I love him. I love him exactly like this.

The thought twisted sharp and guilty in your stomach. How could your own mind twist him into something so mean? How could you want that version of him even for a second? 

But you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t even try to deny it.

Your skin was burning up from the inside out. Sweat beaded along your hairline again, trickling down your temple. Your thin tank top was now cold and damp against your breasts, sticking to your back.

Every shift of your hips made the ache worse. Every breath made the emptiness throb harder. It felt like a fire you couldn’t put out. The only thing that would make it stop was him— his hands, his mouth, his cock. Anything to fill the burning void.

You tried to ignore it. You really did.

You rolled onto your other side, pressing your thighs together as tight as you could, hoping the need would fade.

You could handle this. You could just breathe through it and go back to sleep.

He was sleeping so peacefully. He was a heavy sleeper. He deserved the rest. You didn’t want to wake him up just because your stupid brain had conjured some filthy version of him and left you wrecked and dripping like this.

But the ache only got worse.

It pulsed deeper. Hotter. More insistent. Your pussy clenched again, another rush of wetness soaking your panties until the fabric was completely useless. The burning was too deep. The emptiness hurt.

You bit down on your lip until it stung, trying to stay quiet, trying to be good, trying not to disturb him. You tried breathing slow through your nose, counting to ten, then twenty, then thirty.

You told yourself it would pass. You told yourself you didn’t need to bother him. You told yourself you were being ridiculous— it was just a dream, just your own twisted imagination, and you could handle it like a fucking adult.

But your body refused to listen.

The burning only spread, crawling under your skin, making your nipples harden against your thin top and your thighs quiver with the effort of keeping still. Another helpless roll of your hips made fresh slick leak out of you, soaking the sheets beneath your ass in a warm, humiliating patch.

The need was too strong. 

You needed him inside you. You needed him to stretch you open and fill you up and make the fire stop.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Your hand reached out before you could stop yourself, fingers brushing his shoulder. His skin was warm, solid, so familiar it made your chest ache even more.

“Jey…” you whispered, voice small and shaky, barely above a breath. “Baby…?”

He didn’t wake up right away. Of course he didn’t.

Instead he made a low, grumpy little grunt in the back of his throat, the sound coming out muffled against the pillow. His face scrunched up for a second, brows pulling together like the sound of your voice was annoying him in his sleep.

One of his long arms flopped heavily across your waist, pulling you closer on instinct, but he still didn’t open his eyes. His breathing stayed deep and even, lips parted, drool still shining at the corner of his mouth.

You felt another wave of guilt crash over you. He looked so peaceful, so soft, so completely unaware. And here you were, burning up and dripping because your brain had decided to turn him into some filthy, mean version of himself in a dream.

But no matter how much that deep, dark part of your brain might want him to be just that— he wasn’t. This was a big, sleepy, ridiculous man you were talking about. One who took up half the bed and drooled on the pillow like a giant toddler.

How could you wake him up just because you were aching like this?

But the throb between your legs only got stronger. Your pussy clenched again. Another rush of wetness soaking through your panties until you could feel it starting to drip down the inside of your thighs.

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and tried again, voice even smaller this time.

“Jey… baby, I’m sorry. I just— I don’t feel good.”

He made another sleepy grunt, this one deeper, almost a groan. His arm tightened around your waist for a second, pulling you closer, but his eyes stayed closed.

You bit your lip, mortified, but the ache wouldn’t let you stop. Your hand shook as you reached up and gently brushed your fingers through his curls, trying to wake him without being too pushy.

“Jey… please,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I really need you right now.”

He finally stirred a little more. A long, dramatic groan rumbled out of him as he shifted, face scrunching up like the idea of waking up was personally offensive.

One eye cracked open just a hair, hazy and unfocused, then the other. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of you in the dark, his voice thick and raspy with sleep.

“…Baby?” he mumbled, sounding half-confused, half-concerned. “Wha’s wrong? You okay?”

You felt your face burn even hotter. You couldn’t just say it. Not outright. Not when he looked like this.  Soft and sleepy and so completely your Jey.

“I… I had a dream,” you whispered, the words coming out shaky and embarrassed. “And I just— I woke up and I’m— I’m really hot. And I feel… I don’t know. I just, I need you. Please.”

He blinked again, slower this time, still trying to wake up fully. His brow furrowed as he studied your face, the flush on your cheeks, the way you were pressing your thighs together like you were trying to hold yourself together.

His hand slid up your side, warm and careful, palm resting on your stomach like he was trying to figure out what was going on.

“You burnin’ up,” he murmured, voice still rough and sleepy, but the concern was already there, soft and genuine. “Like, actually hot. You feelin’ sick, baby?”

You shook your head fast, ashamed, the words sticking in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him you woke up from a dream where he was so mean and using you and that it left you dripping and aching so bad you couldn’t even sleep.

“I’m not sick,” you whispered, voice barely there. “I just… I need you. I need you to, to fix it. Please, Jey.”

He was quiet for a second, still half-asleep, but you saw the exact moment it clicked. His eyes widened just a fraction, the sleepy haze clearing as understanding settled in.

His hand stilled on your stomach, thumb rubbing one slow, soothing circle like he was trying to calm you down even though he was the one still waking up.

“Oh,” he said softly, voice dropping low but warm, nothing cruel in it at all. “A dream, huh?”

You nodded, face flaming hot. You couldn’t say anything else. How could you possibly explain that you’d dreamed about him degrading you and using you like a toy, when the real him was lying here looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world?

He smiled then— small, sweet, and so completely him. The corner of his mouth lifting in that lazy, boyish way that always made your chest feel too full. No smirk. No edge. Just soft affection and a hint of sleepy concern.

He shifted closer without hesitation, wrapping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, pulling you flush against his chest so your face tucked into the warm curve of his neck.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered against your temple, pressing a gentle kiss there, then another to your hairline, then one more to the tip of your nose like he couldn’t help himself.

His voice was still rough from sleep, but it wrapped around you like a blanket. “I got you,” he repeated. “Let me take care of my girl.”

You melted into him instantly, the guilt and shame and desperate need all tangling together as his big, warm hand rubbed slow circles up and down your back.

He smelled like sleep and his cologne and home, and you felt so safe it almost hurt. This was your Jey. Not the dream version. Not the cruel one. Just this— soft and patient and so ready to give you whatever you needed, no questions asked.

He kissed your temple again, slow and lingering, then gently rolled you onto your back so you were lying beneath him. The sheets were pulled back just enough for him to see you clearly in the low light. He hovered over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other resting warm and steady on your waist.

Jey looked at you like he had all the time in the world.

His eyes moved over your face, down the flushed column of your throat, across the way your thin tank top clung to your breasts, damp with sweat. His thumb brushed slow circles over your hip bone, and when his gaze finally came back to yours, it was so soft it made your chest ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice still gravely but full of nothing but warmth. “Look at you… all pink and pretty for me. My girl.”

You made a soft, shaky sound, half-embarrassed, half-melting, and he smiled. He leaned down and started kissing you again, slow and gentle, starting at your temple and working his way lower. His mouth brushed your cheek, the corner of your jaw, then trailed down the side of your neck in a warm, unhurried path.

He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, soft at first, then a little firmer, sucking lightly until a small, dark mark bloomed under his lips. You let out a quiet, sweet little whimper, tilting your head to give him more room.

He nipped gently at the same spot, just enough to make you gasp, then immediately soothed it with a slow, warm stripe of his tongue, licking over the fresh mark. You could feel him smiling against your neck, the curve of his lips warm and happy.

He did it again. Another soft nip. Another slow lick. Another little love bite that he kissed and licked until it felt like he was worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured between kisses, voice low and tender. “Lettin’ me take care of you like this… so pretty when you all needy and soft for me.”

You made another soft, sweet sound, fingers threading into his curls as your back arched just a little under his mouth. He was so gentle. So careful. The complete opposite of the dream version you created.

He was slow and loving and so happy to spend all night kissing and marking and taking care of you. It was like nothing in the world mattered more than making you feel good.

Jey smiled again against your neck, pressing one more open-mouthed kiss right below your ear before he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and warm and full of that quiet adoration.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “I’m right here. I got you.”

His hands slid under the hem of your tank top without waiting for an answer, palms gliding slow and warm up your stomach, fingertips brushing the undersides of your breasts. He paused there, eyes locked on yours, voice soft and patient.

“This what you want?”

You nodded so fast your head spun, cheeks burning, desperate little whimpers already slipping out as you leaned into his touch. Jey’s eyes softened even more. He didn’t tease you. He just pushed the thin fabric higher, slow and careful, until your tits spilled free. Heavy, flushed, nipples already painfully hard and tight from how worked up you still were.

He let out a low, appreciative hum, eyes locked on your chest like he couldn’t look away.

“Arms up f’me,” he murmured, voice so gentle it made you chest pang.

You lifted them immediately, and he peeled the tank top the rest of the way off, tossing it somewhere off the side of the bed without even looking. The cool air hit your bare skin and you shivered, but Jey was already moving, leaning down and latching his mouth onto one of your nipples.

The wet heat of his tongue was immediate and perfect. He sucked slow and deep, lips sealed tight around the sensitive peak, tongue swirling in lazy circles that made your back arch off the mattress.

A soft, needy sound slipped out of you before you could stop it, your fingers threading back through his curls as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same slow, worshipful treatment.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration traveling straight down between your legs, and you felt him smile again. You whimpered, hips shifting restlessly beneath him. The ache between your thighs was only getting worse with every slow pull of his mouth.

But Jey took his time, switching back and forth between your breasts. He licked warm stripes over your nipples, nipping gently, then soothing each one with his tongue like he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

He lifted his head just enough to look at you, lips shiny, eyes dark and full of nothing but love.

“Still need more, baby?” he asked, voice tender, thumb brushing over one wet nipple. The touch sent sparks straight down between your legs, making your pussy clench hard around nothing. “Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

You nodded so fast your head spun, cheeks burning, the words catching in your throat. Inside your head it was a desperate frantic chant.

Dick, I need dick, I need your dick right now. Please, please, please make it stop hurting. I need you inside me so bad it hurts.

But all that came out was a shaky, embarrassed whisper.

“I just…I need you,” you breathed, voice cracking. “I need you, Jey. Please. Please make it go away. It hurts…I need you so bad.”

Jey’s eyes softened even more. He didn’t tease you. Didn’t make you say the filthy words your brain was screaming. He just nodded, already knowing exactly what you mean, and scooped you up under your arms with those big, strong hands.

In one smooth motion he flipped you both. He sat up against the headboard and pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him, facing him, your knees on either side of his hips. He held you close, one arm wrapped around your back, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

He pulled you in until your face was tucked against his neck, your chest pressed to his, and he just held you there for a moment. Stroking your hair slow and soothing while he kissed the side of your neck.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m gon’ take care of you,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You whimpered, hips shifting restlessly in his lap, the soaked front of your panties dragging against the hard line of his cock still trapped in his boxers. The friction was maddening. Not enough. Never enough. But it still made your clit throb harder, another rush of slick leaking out of you and soaking your panties even more.

Jey reached down between you without a word, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. Thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. It slapped warm and solid against your inner thigh, and the feeling of it made your pussy clench hard around nothing. A fresh wave of desperate need rolling through you so sharp it stole your breath.

He didn’t rush.

He slid your soaked panties to the side with two fingers, the cool air hitting your drenched folds for only a second before his fingertips were there instead. He felt how wet you were– how your pussy fluttered and pulsed at the lightest touch– and he let out a soft, soothing hum against your neck like he was proud of you for being such a mess for him.

Then he started rubbing slow circles over your clit with the pads of his fingers, gentle but firm. The perfect pressure made your hips jerk forward on instinct. You whined loud and broken against his neck, the sound cracking in the quiet room as your thighs trembled on either side of his lap.

Every slow stroke sent sparks shooting up your spine, but it still wasn’t enough. It only made the emptiness inside you ache worse, made you clench and leak even more, made you feel so empty you could cry.

Please, please, please, your mind chanted, the words too embarrassing to say out loud. I need you inside me. Need your cock. Need you to fill me up right now.

“Jey– please,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop it. “Please… it hurts. Please.”

Jey made a soft, soothing sound, still stroking your clit in those circles, his other hand still cradling the back of your head like you were something fragile.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your neck again, sucking a gentle mark there. “I know it hurts. I’m gon’ fix it. Gon’ give you what you need.”

He lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance, and you felt him smile against your neck again.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured. “I got you.”

Then he pushed inside you– slow, steady, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. The relief was instant and overwhelming.

You cried out, the sound cracking in the quiet room as your walls fluttered and clenched around every thick inch of him. He filled you so perfectly, so completely, pressing against that deep, aching spot that had been throbbing for what felt like forever.

The burning eased, the emptiness vanished. It was replaced by the heavy, delicious fullness that made your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut. You could feel every vein, every ridge, the way he throbbed inside you. Hot and solid and real.

Jey groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he held you close, arms wrapped tight around your back.

“There you go,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “You feel that? I’m right here.”

You whimpered, burying your face in ish neck, nails digging into his shoulders as your pussy fluttered around him again. You easily adjusted to the stretch, to the way he filled every empty inch of you.

The ache was still there, but now it felt good. Deep and warm and satisfied instead of painful. You rolled your hips once, experimentally, and then the drag of his cock against your walls made you moan again. It was softer this time, almost relieved.

Jey let out a quiet, happy hum, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other stayed splayed across your lower back, holding you flush against him.

“Doin’ so good,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck again, slow and sweet. “Takin’ me so well. My perfect girl.”

He didn’t move yet. Just stayed buried deep inside you. Letting you feel him. Letting you adjust. Letting you breathe through the overwhelming fullness. His thumb stroked gentle circles on your back. His lips brushed your skin in soft, lazy kisses, and you felt so safe, so full, so completely taken care of that the last bit of embarrassment melted away.

He slid an arm down to cup underneath your ass, big palm spreading wide and warm over the curve of it. He lifted you just enough to shift you higher in his lap, then slowly guided you back down onto his cock, bouncing you in a deep, unhurried rhythm that made your breath catch every time he bottomed out.

Jey didn’t let you do any of the work. He just held you there, strong muscles doing all the lifting. All the guiding. All the moving while you melted against him.

Your forehead pressed to him. Your noses brushed with every slow rise and fall of your body. His lips hovered so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. Every few seconds he’d lean in and give you the softest, barely there kiss. Just a gentle press. A light brush. A sweet little peck that made your chest flutter even as your pussy clenched around him.

“There you go, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watched your face. “Just let me take care of you.”

He lifted you again, slow and steady, then eased you back down until every thick inch was buried deep inside you again. The drag was perfect– slow enough to feel every ridge, every vein, every subtle throb of him stretching your walls.

You whimpered softly, the sound swallowed by another one of his gentle kisses, your forehead still resting against his. Noses brushing. Breaths mingling.

You were so full.

So perfectly full.

Every time he guided you down, the ache eased a little more. The burning turned into a deep, warm pleasure that spread through your whole body. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in just a little, but he didn’t mind. He just kept that same slow, controlled rhythm, lifting and lowering you like you weighed nothing. Like he could do this all night if that’s what you needed.

“You feel so good,” he whispered between soft kisses, lips brushing yours, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth again. “So warm and wet and tight ‘round me. My perfect girl.”

You made a soft, broken sound, forehead pressed tighter to his, noses still brushing as he bounced you gently on his cock. The closeness was overwhelming in the best way. His breath on your skin, his eyes so close you could see every fleck of color in them.

He kissed you again, barely there, just a sweet press of lips that made your heart stutter. Then another. And another. Slow and lazy and full of love while his hands kept guiding your hips, filling you over and over.

You were still burning, but now it felt like the fire was being soothed from the inside out, replaced by something warm and safe and so, so good.

He kept the same slow, steady pace for a while longer, pulling you up and down on his cock with those big, strong hands. Forehead pressed to yours. Noses brushing. But the need inside you kept building, the ache turning sharper, hotter, needier.

Your pussy fluttered tighter around him, walls clenching with every deep stroke, and you felt yourself getting closer, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

“Jey…” you whimpered against his mouth, voice shaky. “I’m– I’m getting close…”

He made a soft, encouraging sound, eyes still locked on yours, forehead still touching.

“Go ahead, baby,” he whispered. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

He picked up the pace then, bouncing you a little faster, a little harder, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting growing louder in the quiet room. His hands gripped your ass tighter, lifting you higher before pulling you back down onto his cock with more force, the head dragging perfectly against that spot inside you every single time.

You moaned, the sound breaking against his lips as your whole body started to lock up. Jey leaned in and bit your bottom lip gently, just enough to sting, then soothed it with a deep, slow kiss as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your pussy clenched hard around him, pulsing, the pleasure rolling through you in hot, overwhelming waves. You cried out into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs shaking on either side of his lap as you came hard, soaking his cock even more.

Jey groaned softly against your lips, staying buried deep inside you the whole time, holding you close while your body trembled and clenched around him. He kept kissing you through it. Deep, slow, loving kisses, noses still brushing– like he wanted to feel every second of it with you.

When the last aftershocks finally faded, he stayed right where he was, cock still buried deep inside you, arms wrapped tight around you as he held you against his chest.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

“You feel better?” he asked quietly, voice warm and a little raspy. “The burnin’ gone?”

You nodded against his neck, still catching your breath, body limp in his lap. “Yeah… it’s gone. Thank you.”

Jey smiled, the curve of his lips brushing your skin, and he pulled you even closer.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder. “Think I’ll just keep you here a little bit longer. If that’s okay with you.”

You let out a soft, content little sound, nuzzling into his neck, arms wrapped around him as you settled against his chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered, voice sleepy, eyes already drifting shut. “I’d like that.”

Jey let out a low, amused little chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. He kissed your forehead, slow and lingering, then pulled back just enough to look at you with that sleepy, playful glint in his eyes.

“Besides,” he added teasingly. “You owe me, little girl. Wakin’ me up in the middle of the night just for a good fuck… it’s a damn shame.”

Your eyes fluttered open for a second, cheeks burning hot as a shy, embarrassed smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d just said that. So casually. So playfully. But the way he said it, with that soft smirk and the gentle way he was still holding you, made warmth bloom in your chest instead of shame.

“You’re terrible,” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-blushing as you hid your face against his neck again.

Jey laughed quietly, the sound warm and fond, and pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

“Nah,” he whispered, lips brushing your hair. “You know you love me.”

Kept you right there, cradled close against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you, warm and full and perfect. His hand stroked slow, soothing lines up and down your back while your breathing grew softer, slower, heavier.

The last thing you felt before sleep pulled you under was the gentle press of his lips to your forehead again, and the quiet, steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

A tiny bit of drool slipped from the corner of your mouth onto his skin as you finally drifted off completely.

Jey just smiled, holding you tighter, perfectly content to stay exactly like this for as long as you needed.

The arena lights were still humming when you slipped through the side door backstage. Everything clung to you— the tang of sweat, the faint burn of pyro still hanging in the air, the electric buzz under your skin that hadn’t settled since the show ended. It felt like wearing a second layer, something thin and hot and impossible to shake off.

Your sneakers made hardly a sound against the concrete, but each step felt loud anyway. Heavy. Intentional. Like your body knew you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, and it was trying to warn you with every soft thud of your stride.

You weren’t on the schedule tonight.

You weren’t talent.

You weren’t supposed to be wandering around the guts of the building like you belonged here.

But he had texted you earlier:

Meet me after the main event.

Quiet spot near the exit.

Miss my sweet girl.

So you’d waited.

You stayed tucked away while the chaos died down. Fans spilling out of the stands, crew dragging cables, talent disappearing into curtain folds or production rooms. And slowly, finally, the noise bled out of the arena until gorilla felt like a skeleton of itself.

Too quiet.

The famous curtain, thick, black, heavy as sin, was tied back just a few inches. Enough to show the glow beyond it. The flicker of monitors still playing muted replays. A leftover headset abandoned on a road case. Half-drunk water bottles. A jacket someone forgot to grab.

Most of the crew had bailed already. Catering. The buses. Somewhere down the hall, a radio crackled once, garbled, then went silent again.

The crowd was reduced now to a distant throb. Faint. Pulled back like a tide retreating from shore and leaving nothing but memory where the water touched.

You weren’t here for the quiet. You weren’t here for trouble either.

You were here for him.

Cody.

Your Cody.

The man who would slip past media just to find you in some dim corner, slide his hand up the back of your neck, warm and rough and grounding. Press his forehead to yours like he was exhaling his whole soul into your skin. Murmur “sweet girl” against your hair in that quiet, reverent way that always made your stomach flip and your chest tighten.

The man who made you feel like the only fixed point in a world built on spotlights and noise.

But lately, things had been shifting.

Not in explosions… nothing that dramatic.

It was in glances.Touches. Silences.

You saw it first in the ring.

Not all at once. Not as a big moment anyone else would clock. Just in the way Cody’s hand would slide a little too low during a tag, down past where a normal touch would land. Not a quick pat. Not guidance. A hold.

A squeeze.

His fingers pressing into the soft skin just above the waistband of Jey’s black joggers, dimpling it. Gripping it like he knew exactly what it felt like. Like he’d memorized the shape.

And Jey? He would react before he could stop himself.

Just a fraction of a second. A tiny arch into the touch. Barely there. The kind of movement no one notices unless they’re already watching too closely. Enough to make something drop heavy in your chest.

Then he’d spring forward, all swagger and heat, playing it off for the crowd. But he always looked back.

Always.

A quick glance over his shoulder. Dark eyes flicking to Cody like he was checking something. Like he was waiting for a signal. For approval. For confirmation that he’d done something right.

And Cody always gave it.

Then there were the hugs.

Center of the ring. Spotlight burning down. The crowd losing its mind.

Cody would pull Jey in tight. Arms around his waist, hand on the back of his neck, forehead pressed to forehead. Too intimate. Too long. A hold you don’t give someone unless there’s a history, or a promise, or a hunger behind it.

The fans thought it was brotherhood.

You stood at the edge of the barricade with your arms crossed and felt the electricity between them crackle like the air right before lightning hits.

But you told yourself it was just wrestling. You told yourself it was the heat of the moment. You told yourself it was nothing you should worry about. You told yourself a lot of things.

Until tonight.

You rounded the narrow bend where the hallway opened toward the loading dock, and you stopped dead. Your breath snagged. Your pulse lurched. Because they were right there.

Cody had Jey pinned. Not harshly, not violently, but close. Too close. The kind of close that rearranges the air around two people and leaves nothing for anyone else to breathe.

Jey’s back was flush to the cinderblock wall, shoulder blades pressed flat against the concrete like he’d been eased there, placed there, kept there. One knee bent, boot propped against the wall, his stance wide enough that it looked unconscious— instinctive— like his body had opened for Cody without thinking.

Cody stood between Jey’s spread legs like he belonged there.

One thick forearm braced above Jey’s head, palm planted on the wall. Casual. Intentional. Claiming space that wasn’t supposed to be his.

His other hand was low. Splayed over Jey’s hip with a grip that wasn’t ambiguous or brotherly or camera-ready. His thumb pressed deep into that soft spill of flesh where Jey’s gear always pinched— right at the top of those tight black pants. That little curve that always peeked when he moved. Round. Pretty. Bitable.

Cody grabbed it.

Slow. Deliberate. His knuckles whitened with the pressure. He pulled Jey forward, just an inch, but enough that their bodies brushed. Enough for the chain around Jey’s neck to catch the overhead light and glitter across his chest. Enough for his breath to stutter visibly, like Cody had knocked the wind out of him with nothing but his hand.

Jey’s head tipped back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. His throat bobbed with a swallow you could see from where you stood. His lips parted— wet, a little swollen— and a tiny sound escaped him. A half-whine, half-exhale. The kind of noise someone makes when they’re trying not to make any noise at all.

He bit down on his lower lip like he could trap it there.

Cody leaned in even closer. Forehead pressed to Jey’s again, their noses brushing. His mouth hovered by Jey’s ear, moving slow, shaping words you couldn’t hear. Private words. Intimate ones. He didn’t need volume for you to recognize that tone.

Heavy. Sweet. Possessive.

His thumb stroked lazily over Jey’s hip. Once. Twice. Soft enough to tease.

Then he squeezed again, harder this time.

Jey’s breath hitched audibly.

His hand lifted without him even realizing it. Those long fingers curled into the hem of Cody’s shirt—  weakly, barely holding on, as if his body wanted something to tether itself to. His chest rose and fell way too fast. Eyes half-lidded. Lips parted.

He looked undone already.

Like Cody was unravelling him inch by inch.

Your stomach flipped. Sharp, hot jealousy tearing through you so fast you had to brace a hand against the wall. The kind of jealousy that licked up your spine and settled low. The kind that had your thighs squeezing together instinctively.

Because it was Jey.

The man whose ass looked downright criminal in every piece of gear he owned— plump and heavy and alive, jiggling shamelessly with every step down the ramp. Every exaggerated hip swivel in the corner when he engaged with the crowd, knowing exactly where the cameras were, knowing exactly what he was doing to anyone watching from behind.

The man whose sweatpants always rode low backstage, just enough to reveal that soft little roll over the waistband. That hint of give. That barely-contained curve that made your fingers itch. The kind of softness you wanted to sink your teeth into, grip until your fingerprints bloomed red and stayed there.

The man who moved like he knew how good he looked from behind.

Who could blame Cody?

Really.

Who could fucking blame him?

The jealousy in your chest didn’t explode. It didn’t burn clean or sharp. It twisted. Coiled in on itself, reshaping into something heavier. Something stickier.

This wasn’t rage.

It wasn’t betrayal.

It was exclusion.

They had this thing—this shared heat you could feel from across the hall. A private language made of glances held a beat too long. Of hands that lingered where they shouldn’t. Of low voices and bodies that leaned in without thinking.

And you were standing in the shadows, watching it happen.

On the outside.

Your thighs pressed together again without permission, a quiet, traitorous response. Heat pooled low and insistent between your legs, unwelcome and undeniable. Your nails bit into your palms— tiny crescents that stung just enough to ground you.

You stepped back. One careful, silent step.

Then another.

Until the dim corner swallowed you again, the concrete cool against your spine. Your heart hammered too loud in your ears. Your breath came shallow. Your skin felt too tight. Too warm.

You weren’t mad.

Not really.

You just didn’t want to be left out anymore.

Later– much later– in the car, the city slid past the windows in long streaks of light, smeared gold and white against the dark glass like falling stars. The inside of the car felt too quiet after the arena. Too contained. The adrenaline had nowhere to go now, just sat heavy in your chest, buzzing under the skin.

Cody drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. Not light. Not careless. Heavy. Familiar. Grounding.

His palm was warm through the thin fabric of your skirt, weight settled like he’d put it there without thinking, like it belonged. His thumb moved in slow, absent circles just beneath the hem– never crossing, never testing the boundary, just brushing skin in that steady, soothing way he always did when the night finally caught up to him. 

You watched his hand more than the road. 

Because it was the same motion.

The same place.

The same touch you’d watched him give Jey earlier— low, unthinking, intimate in a way that didn’t ask permission.

Your body reacted before your mouth did. A quiet tightening low in your belly. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t lean into it either. You just… noticed. Let the awareness sit there between you like a held breath.

Neither of you spoke.

The car rolled on. Tires hummed against asphalt. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed and faded. The city slowly thinned until the streets narrowed, quieter now, the hotel sign glowing ahead like a promise and a question all at once.

You waited.

Waited until you turned into the garage. Until the concrete walls swallowed the sound. Until the engine cut and the hush dropped heavy around you.

That’s when you spoke.

“You’ve been keeping something,” you said.

Your voice came out low. Even. No sharp edge to it. No accusation. Just a statement— plain and unavoidable.

His thumb twitches once. Stops.

“What do you mean?” he asks, too quickly. The words came out careful, practiced— but there was a hitch in his breath that wasn’t there a second ago. His shoulders tensed. His jaw tightened.

You didn’t look at him yet.

“I mean,” you whispered, “you’ve been different.”

He let out a short laugh. Forced. “Baby—”

“No.” You finally turned your head then, meeting his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t smooth it over.”

The silence stretched.

You could see it happening in real time— the sweat gathering at his hairline, the way his chest started rising faster, the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel like he needed something solid to hold onto.

“What do you think I’m keeping?” he asked.

You shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

His mouth opened. Closed. You could practically hear his thoughts scrambling, every possible explanation lining up and failing before it even got to his lips.

“I know you’ve been stressed,” he said finally. “After my last title run, the pressure—”

“Cody.”

Just his name.

Flat.

He stopped.

You inhaled slowly. Let it out just as slow.

“You and Jey.”

The words land clean. No drama. No venom.

His face went pale.

“What?” he said. Too sharp. Too defensive. “What do you mean, me and Jey?”

You tilted your head. Studied him. He looked… scared. Not angry. Not offended.

Cornered.

“I mean you,” you muttered quietly, “with your hand on his hip. Your mouth in his ear. Your body pressed all close when you thought no one was watching.”

“That’s—” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “That was nothing. That’s wrestling. That’s my brother. We hug in the ring. We celebrate. It doesn’t mean—”

“I saw you backstage.”

That did it.

The color drained out of him completely.

His mouth fell open, then snapped shut again. His eyes darted away from yours, then back, then down to your lap like he was trying to ground himself in something familiar.

“You—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “You saw… what exactly?”

You didn’t raise your voice.

“I saw you pin him against the wall,” you said. “I saw your hand on him. I saw the way he reacted. And I saw the way you didn’t stop.”

Cody exhaled sharply, hands shaking now. “It wasn’t— fuck, it wasn’t what you think.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” he said immediately. Too fast. “I mean yeah, maybe we get close sometimes, but it’s never serious. It’s not like—”

You finally let yourself look fully at him.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

The question hung there, simple and brutal.

His lips parted. His chest heaved once.

He didn’t answer.

You nodded slowly. You already expected that.

“I’m mad,” you admitted. “But not for the reason you think.”

His head snapped up. “You’re not?”

“I’m mad,” you repeated, “that you didn’t tell me. I’m mad that you decided for me. And I’m mad that you stood there and touched him like that while I was ten feet away and you thought I wouldn’t notice.”

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“And you thought lying– or hiding would be better?”

“No,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lose you.”

That was the truth. You could hear it in the way his voice dropped, the way his shoulders sagged like the fight just went out of him.

You sat back slightly, arms folding— not defensively. Thoughtfully.

“You should’ve trusted me,” you said. “You should’ve talked to me.”

He nodded, frantic. “I know. I know. I fucked up.”

You held his gaze.

“And if you’d told me,” you continued slowly, “we could’ve talked about what this actually is.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you spoke, calm but unmistakably firm, “I’m not mad you want him.”

His breath caught.

“I’m mad you didn’t offer for me to be part of it.”

The words land heavy.

Cody just stared at you, stunned, fear and relief and confusion crashing together in those light ocean eyes.

“You’re saying…?”

“I’m saying I don’t like being shut out,” you replied. “I don’t like secrets. And I don’t like feeling like I’m watching my own relationship from the outside.”

The garage was silent except for the ticking engine and his unsteady breathing.

He reached for your hand this time, but stopped short, waiting.

“Tell me what you want,” he muttered quietly. “And I’ll listen.”

And for the first time all night, you believed him.

You let the silence sit between you a little longer. Let him feel it settle in his chest the way it had settled in yours.

Then you reached over. Covered his hand with yours. Not to push it away. Not to pull it higher. Just to hold it there.

“I want him here,” you said quietly. “Tonight. In our room.”

Cody’s breath caught. His fingers flexed once under yours— like instinct trying to curl around you, then remembering he wasn’t allowed to assume anymore.

“You’re sure?” His voice was rough. Low. Careful.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He searched your face, eyes flicking over every line, every flicker of expression, like he was looking for the moment you’d change your mind. When he didn’t find it, he exhaled slow, shaky.

“Okay.”

You squeezed his hand once. Gentle this time. “Text him. Tell him you need to talk. Don’t tell him I’ll be there.”

Cody nodded. Pulled his phone from the cup holder with his free hand. His thumb hovered over the screen for a second. Long enough that you could see the faint tremor, before he started typing.

Room 1408. 30 min. Need to talk. Serious.

He hit send. Set the phone face-down on his thigh. Looked at you.

“He’ll come,” he said, almost to himself.

“I know.”

You leaned over the center console. Pressed your forehead to his. Closed your eyes. Breathed him in— sweat, cologne, the faint edge of the ring still clinging to his skin.

“I’m not mad at you for wanting him,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’m mad you didn’t let me want him too.”

Cody’s hand came up. Cupped the back of your neck gently. The way he always did when he was trying to say sorry without words.

“I should’ve told you,” he murmured again. “I was scared.”

“I know.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“But tonight,” you said, voice soft but steady, “we fix it. Together.”

He nodded. Throat working.

“Yes, sweet girl.”

The elevator ride up was quiet.

Cody stood close behind you. Chest brushing your back, hands resting lightly at your waist. Not gripping. Not guiding. Just there. Warm. Solid. 

You watched the floor numbers tick up in the mirrored doors. Your reflection looked calm. Eyes bright. Lips slightly parted. Hair mussed from the night. You didn’t look angry. You didn’t look jealous.

You looked hungry.

The doors opened on the 14th floor.

You walked ahead down the hallway. Cody followed a half-step behind.

Room 1408. Corner suite. Big bed. Windows overlooking the city lights. You unlocked the door. Stepped inside. Kicked off your sneakers. Dropped your bag by the chair.

Cody closed the door. Locked it.

You turned to him.

“Sit,” you said, nodding toward the armchair across from the bed. He sat. Knees spread. Hands resting loose on his thighs. Watching you. You walked over. Stood between his legs. Looked down at him.

“When he gets here,” you said softly, “you answer the door, let him in. But don't explain anything until I say so.”

Cody nodded once. Slow.

“And then…” You reached down. Brushed your fingers through his hair—gentle, soothing. “You help me. Whatever I need. You hold him if I ask. You watch. You listen. But you don’t take over. Not tonight.”

His cock twitched under the thin fabric of his sweats.

You smiled, just a small, private curve.

“You okay with that?”

He looked up at you. Eyes full. Open. Honest.

“Yeah, princess,” he whispered. “I’m okay with that.”

You leaned down. Kissed him slow. Soft. A promise more than a claim.

“Good.”

Twenty-eight minutes later, the knock came.

Three soft raps. Hesitant.

Cody looked at you.

You nodded.

He stood. Walked to the door. Opened it.

Jey stood in the hallway— black hoodie zipped halfway, gray sweats low on his hips, chain catching the hall light. Hair still damp. 

The room felt smaller the second Jey stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him softly, and the air thickened like someone had turned the heat up too high. His eyes bounced from you to Cody and back again, confusion carving lines between his brows.

You didn’t move right away.

Just watched him.

Let him feel the weight of being seen.

Jey shifted his weight— small, restless. “What’s goin’ on?” His voice came out rough, like he’d been holding it in his throat the whole elevator ride up. “Cody said serious. Said we needed to talk.”

You nodded once. Slow.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We do.”

Cody stayed by the door.

Arms loose at his sides. Silent. Watching. Letting you take the lead like he knew better than to interrupt this moment. Like he understood that whatever this was, it was between you and Jey first.

You took one step toward Jey.

Then another.

Slow enough that he had time to think about backing up. About saying something. About doing anything.

He didn’t.

By the time you stopped, you were close enough that he had to tilt his chin down to meet your eyes. Close enough to smell the clean soap clinging to his skin, the faint salt underneath it, the trace of cologne he’d probably slapped on without thinking— muscle memory from years of locker rooms and hotel hallways.

You lifted your hand.

Pressed your palm flat to his chest.

Right over his heart.

It was racing. Hard, frantic, like it had been caught doing something it didn’t know how to explain. The warmth of him seeped into your skin immediately. Solid. Alive. Unmistakably there.

“I saw you,” you said.

Your voice was soft. Almost gentle. Not sharp. Not accusing.

“I saw you in the hallway. Cody’s hand on your hip. Squeezing. Pulling you in.” You didn’t rush the words. Let each one land. “Forehead to forehead. The way you leaned into it. The way you didn’t pull away.”

Jey’s breath stuttered.

You felt it through your hand, his chest hitching under your palm. His eyes flicked to Cody, quick and guilty, like he was bracing for judgment. For anger. For consequences.

Then he looked back at you.

“I—” he started.

You shook your head. Just once. Calm. Certain.

“I’m not mad at you for wanting him,” you said quietly. “I get it. I really do.”

Your hand stayed where it was. Steady. Grounding.

“Look at him.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Cody. He was shirtless now, sweats hanging low on his hips, chest rising a little too fast like he hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself together. His eyes were locked on you, then on Jey, then back again— caught somewhere between fear and anticipation.

Jey swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing.

“But I’m also not stupid,” you said. “I know this hasn’t been a one-time thing. I know it’s been weeks. Maybe longer. And I know you’ve both been careful. Quiet. Keeping me out.”

Jey’s mouth opened. Closed. Nothing came out.

You slid your hand up. Curled your fingers lightly around the chain at his neck. Not pulling. Just holding.

“I’ve been sitting with that,” you whispered. “All night. Trying to figure out if I’m supposed to be hurt. If I’m supposed to walk away. If I’m supposed to pretend I didn’t see.”

Your thumb brushed the hollow of his throat.

“I don’t want to walk away.”

Jey exhaled— shaky, relieved, wrecked all at once.

“But I also don’t want to keep pretending,” you said. “I don’t want to be the girl on the outside looking in. I don’t want secrets. Not anymore.”

You let go of the chain. Stepped back half a step. Gave him space to breathe.

“So here’s where we are,” you said. Voice steady now. Calm. But there was steel under it. “If you want to keep seeing Cody— if you want to keep this thing going— then I’m part of it. Not optional. Not on the sidelines. In it. With both of you.”

Jey blinked. Fast.

You tilted your head. “Or…” You let the word hang. Let it sit heavy. “If that’s not something you want— if you’d rather keep it just you and him, quiet and hidden? Then that’s fine. But if that’s the case, we’re done. All of it. You don’t get to touch him anymore. Not like that. Not without me knowing. ‘Cause I don’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

The silence that followed was thick. Suffocating.

Jey’s eyes were wide. Glassy. His chest rose and fell too fast. He looked from you to Cody, searching, desperate, like he was waiting for someone to tell him this was a test he could still pass.

Cody didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched. Waiting for Jey to answer the way you’d asked him to. Jey’s lips parted. A small, broken sound slipped out first— half laugh, half sob.

“Shit,” he whispered. Voice cracked. “You really think I’d say no?”

You didn’t smile. Not yet.

“I need to hear it,” you said. “Out loud.”

Jey dragged a hand over his face. Laughed again. Low, shaky, almost disbelieving.

“I’m a fuckin’ whore,” he muttered. “You know that, right? I mean— fuck. I’ve been dreamin’ about you too. Not just him. You think I ain’t notice the way you look at me sometimes? The way you always starin’ at my ass? You think I ain’t been thinkin’ about what it’d feel like if you touched me the same way he does?”

He stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet. Just closing the distance.

“I don’t care,” he said. Raw. Honest. “I don’t care if it’s both of you. I don’t care if it’s all three. I just want in. I want whatever you’re givin’. I’ll beg if you want me to. I’ll crawl. I don’t give a fuck. Just don’t make me choose.”

His voice broke on the last word. You studied him. Let the confession sit between you like smoke. Then you reached up again. This time you cupped his face, gentle. Thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Jey exhaled like he’d been punched.

“Okay?”

You nodded. Leaned in. Pressed your forehead to his, just for a second. Let him feel it.

“Okay.”

You pulled back. Looked at Cody over Jey’s shoulder.

“Take his hoodie off.”

Cody moved without a word. Stepped up behind Jey. Hands slid under the hem of the hoodie, slow, careful. Pulled it up and over Jey’s head. The fabric dragged across his skin, leaving his curls mussed, chain swinging. Jey’s arms lifted automatically, obedient.

Cody tossed the hoodie aside, stepped back again. You reached for the waistband of Jey’s sweats. Hooked your fingers in. Tugged down slow, along with his boxers. The fabric caught on the curve of his hips, then gave. Slid over his thick thighs, down his calves, pooled at his ankles. 

Jey stepped out. Naked now except the chain. Cock already half-hars, heavy between his legs. That ass– god, that ass– round, full, soft where it spilled just a little over where the waistband used to sit. The same spot Cody had gribbed backstage. The same spot you watched him claim.

You circled him once. Slow. Let your eyes drag over every inch. Let him feel it.

“Bed,” you said. Quiet. “Face down. Ass up.”

Jey moved like he’d been waiting to hear that his whole life. Crawled onto the mattress. Chest flat to the sheets. Back arched. Knees spread. That perfect, fat ass presented high– cheeks parting naturally, hole tight and already twitching under the lamp light.

You knelt behind him, knees sinking into the mattress edge, the sheets already warm from his body heat. Jey’s thighs trembled– just a fine, constant shiver– like his nerves were strung too tight and every breath threatened to snap them. His ass was right there. Round, and heavy. The kind of perfect that made your mouth water before you even touched it. Soft curves spilling slightly where his muscle met plush give, skin still flushed from the backstage adrenaline, a faint sheen of post-shower dampness clinging in the creases.

You dragged your palms up the backs of his thighs, slow and deliberate, fingertips tracing the thick cords of muscle before sinking into the softer flesh at the top. Thumbs hooked under the crease where thighs met ass, and you spread him open. Not gentle. Not tentative. WIde enough to that cool air kissed his hole first, making it twitch, already clenching like it knew what was coming.

Jey let out a broken little sound– half moan, half plea– face buried deeper in the pillow. His hips rocked back an inch, instinctive. Greedy.

You leaned in until your breath ghosted over him. Hot. Steady. Let him feel the anticipation coil tighter in his gut. His hole fluttered again– open, close, open– like it was begging all by itself.

Then you spit.

Thick, deliberate, right on target. The glob landed heavy on his rim, warm and slick, and immediately started gliding down the seam toward his balls. Jey jerked hard– whole body twitching– his muffled whine vibrating into the sheets. A string of spit clung to your lower lip when you pulled back to watch it drop, slow and obscene, coating the tight pucker before gravity pulled it lower. 

You didn’t let it go to waste.

Tongue flat, you licked a long stripe from his balls upward– tasting salt, clean skin, and the faint musk that was pure Jey. The flavor bloomed hot on your tongue. You pressed harder at the top, flattening against his rim, letting the broad surface drag over every sensitive ridge before circling back down. Slow. Wet. No rush.

Jey’s hips bucked– small, helpless– trying to chase your mouth. You gripped the meat of his ass harder, nails biting in just enough to leave faint crescents, holding his still.

“Stay,” you murmured against his skin, voice muffled, vibrating right into him.

He whined– high, needy, wrecked.

You circled his rim again. Teasing little flicks with the tip of your tongue, then pressed forward. Slow push. The muscle resisted for half a second, then gave, letting you sink inside. Hot. Tight. Velvet-soft walls fluttering around the intrusion. You fucked him with it– shallow thrusts at first, then deeper– curling the tip to drag along the inner rim, tasting every inch.

Spit leaked freely now. Thick trails running down his crack, pooling at the base of his balls, soaking the sheets beneath him. You pulled back just enough to spit again, harder this time, watching the fresh glob land and slide inside the already slick hole before you dove back in. Tongue spearing deep, swirling, lapping at the walls like you were trying to drink him dry.

Jey was loud. He couldn’t help it anymore. His moans were spilling out, broken and filthy, hips grinding back in helpless little circles, trying to fuck himself on your tongue.

“Oh fuck– fuck! Right there. Don’t stop– please–”

You didn’t.

You added a finger with a slow, careful push alongside your tongue. The stretch made him clench hard, then melt. You curled it immediately, hooking toward that spot, stroking in time with your tongue’s thrusts. Another finger followed– two now– stretching him wider, scissoring gently while your tongue lapped at his stretched hole, pushing spit deeper, making everything slippery and obscene.

The sounds were filthy.

Wet squelching every time your tongue plunged in. The slick glide of your fingers. Jey’s choked moans. The way spit dripped down his inner thighs in slow, glistening streams. His hole was puffy now. Swollen, shiny, gaping slightly every time you pulled back to breathe. Reddened from the friction, dripping with your spit.

You buried your face again– nose pressed right against him– cheeks smooshed by the plush weight of his ass, tongue fucking in deep while your fingers crooked relentlessly against his prostate. Jey sobbed– actual tears wetting the pillow– body shaking, hips rutting uselessly against nothing.

“Gonna–fuck! Gonna cum– oh god–”

You pulled your fingers free with a wet pop. Replaced them instantly with your tongue, pushing as deep as you could, swirling sucking lightly at the rim like you were trying to pull the orgasm out of him with your mouth alone.

Jey broke.

His whole body locked up, back bowing, a raw guttural cry tearing from his throat as he came untouched– cock pulsing, spilling thick ropes across the sheets beneath him. His hole clenched rhythmically around your tongue, fluttering, milking nothing while your kept licking him through it, slow and steady, drawing out every shudder.

You were lost in it completely. The taste of him flooding your mouth, the heat of his body trembling under your hands, the way his ass clenched and released around your tongue like it never wanted to let go. Spit everywhere— your chin slick, dripping down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. You didn’t care. Didn’t notice. All you could focus on was Jey. The high, whimpering moans still spilling from his lips, the way his thighs quivered against your cheeks, the filthy wet sounds filling the room like music.

You forgot Cody was even there.

Forgot the door. Forgot the hotel. Forgot everything except the man under your mouth, writhing and moaning into the pillow like he was made for this. For you.

Jey was still whimpering— soft, broken sounds muffled by the fabric— his body twitching with aftershocks, hips grinding slow circles into the wet spot beneath him like he couldn’t stop chasing the feeling. Tears streaked his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat.

You pulled back finally. Lips swollen, chin shining, breath ragged. Licked your lips. Tasted him still there.

Only then did you remember.

Cody.

Standing at the foot of the bed. Boxers tented hard, chest heaving, eyes blown black with want. Watching every second like he couldn’t look away.

A flicker of guilt hit you, sharp, unexpected. You’d gotten so locked in, so consumed, that you’d tuned him out completely. Left him standing there like a ghost while you devoured what he’d been hiding from you.

But then— no.

The guilt twisted. Flipped.

No the fuck you didn’t feel bad.

You’d been the one left out. The one watching from shadows while they touched and whispered and claimed each other behind your back. Weeks. Months maybe. Ignoring you. Keeping secrets.

You didn’t feel bad at all.

You sat up straighter. Wiped your chin with the back of your hand. Looked right at Cody.

“I almost feel bad,” you said quietly. Voice hoarse from everything. “Almost. Forgetting you were even here.”

Cody’s throat worked. He didn’t speak.

“But then I remember,” you continued, soft but sharp, “you’ve been ignoring me for him. Fucking him behind my back. So no. I don’t feel bad at all.”

Jey whimpered again. Still face down, ass up, hole glistening and puffy. Hips twitching like he was still coming down, still needy. Moaning low into the pillow, fingers clutching the sheets.

You ran a hand up his spine. Soothing. Then looked back at Cody.

“Now,” you said, voice dropping lower, “I want to see it. The way you’ve been fucking him. Show me what he looks like whimpering and moaning with a cock in his ass.”

Cody didn’t hesitate.

He climbed onto the bed behind Jey. Hands gripping those hips, thumbs digging deep into the soft muffin top, squeezing hard enough to make Jey whine and arch. Cody lined up, thick head nudging against the slick, puffy, spit-soaked hole. He pushed in slow. One long, brutal slide until he was buried to the hilt.

Jey cried out– sharp, broken, face pressing hard into the sheets. Back bowing. Ass rippling with the stretch.

Cody groaned, low, guttural. “Fuck— still so tight even after your tongue wrecked him.”

He started moving. Slow rolls at first, letting you see every inch pull out glistening with spit and pre-cum, then slammed back in. The wet squelch was obscene. Skin slapping. Jey’s moans climbed higher, filthy, shameless.

You knelt closer. Hand sliding up Jey’s side. fingers trailing over that perfect soft roll at his hip. You leaned down. Bit. Hard. Teeth sinking into the plush flesh where stomach met hip. The same spot that always spilled over his waistband. Hard enough to bruise. Jey sobbed, body jolting, hole clenching around Cody’s cock.

You bit again— higher, lower— leaving red crescents that would turn purple by morning. Sucked hard enough to mark deep. Jey writhed, moaning louder, hips grinding back harder.

Cody reached forward. Grabbed a fistful of Jey’s mullet and yanked his head back off the pillow. Jey’s mouth fell open. His eyes were glassy, tears streaking, moans spilling free and raw. You leaned in. Cupped his jaw. Tilted his wrecked face toward you.

“Open wider,” you whispered.

Jey did– tongue out, panting, desperate.

You spit, thick, right into his open mouth. Watched it land heavy on his tongue, slide down his throat when he swallowed on instinct.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

Cody groaned and yanked the hair harder, snapping his hips forward brutally now, setting a punishing rhythm. The bed creaked violently. Skin slapped loud. Jey’s moans turned into sobs— high, filthy, and shameless. “Yes— fuck! Right there… don’t stop. Please—harder—”

You bit his hip again. Teeth grazing the soft spill-over, leaving fresh marks that would bloom dark and obvious. Jey bucked, his hole spasming, cock leaking fresh streams onto the sheets.

Cody pulled his head back further, exposing his throat. Thrust deeper. Harder. “Take it! Shit— take every inch like the whore you are.”

Jey shattered again, body tensing, a sob tearing out as he came for the second time, spilling across the sheets. His ass clenched hard around Cody’s cock, milking him.

Cody followed with a ragged groan, burying deep, filling him up, cum leaking out around his shaft, mixing with your spit, dripping down Jey’s thighs in thick, messy trails.

You stayed close. Hand stroking Jey’s side in slow circles while he panted, trembling, wrecked— bite marks blooming vivid red on his hips, hair tousled from Cody’s grip, mouth slick from your spit, hole gaping and dripping.

Cody pulled out slow. Cum leaking out. Glistening.

You looked at it. Then at Cody. Then back at Jey— face down, ass still up, body shaking, soft whimpers still leaking from his lips.

You smiled. Small. Satisfied.

“Now,” you said softly, voice rough from everything you’d done, “we’re even.”

Jey whimpered— weak, needy, already trying to push back like he wanted more.

And you knew this was only the beginning.

Jey’s mouth was too distracting, too dangerous for her to be around without wanting to lean in and close the distance. It was like she’d woken up one day no longer satisfied with just being his friend. Not when she was spending time wondering what the weight of his lips under hers would feel like. Were they warm? Soft? Chapped from licking them? Did they taste sweet?

“Shit.” Rhea cursed herself and her wandering, no, needy, mind. Jey had been looking at her funny for two years, and now she was looking at him the same way.

“Shit, Rhea, shit.” He was doing things to her head. He was the only man that had her tripping over herself. Jey’d had her off kilter long before she’d been discarded like rubbish by her so-called family. It was supposed to be tactical flirting, but ended up laced with real attraction. Nothing she’d acted on, or entertained, but it was the truth. He’d shaken up her entire world.

Once Jey Uso had landed on her radar, he’d slowly begun to consume her thoughts and dreams, since he’d found his way there, too. “Think of anything else.” Rhea blushed and cursed, marching into the bathroom.

Leaning over the sink, she splashed cold water onto her face, coughing and sputtering when some went up her nose. “Ugh.” Rhea stared at herself in the mirror. “Why’d I do that?” Water dripped down onto her shirt. The one a fan had gifted her the day before. Jhea. Their pictures side-by-side. She’d nearly squealed when she’d held it up, admiring it. Jey was making her sappy, giggly, disgusting. Rhea Ripley didn’t giggle, or kick her feet at the thought of a cute boy. It was absurd, humiliating, and the worst kind of truth.

Underneath the layers of adolescent wounds, she was just a girl wanting the popular boy to like her. In Rhea’s case, he did. And she wanted the warm weight of his hand in hers whenever she craved his touch.

She’d quickly discovered she loved tucking her head under his chin, his arms wrapping tightly around her. Rhea had never been held like that before, gently, his heart beating against her cheek. It didn’t hurt that Jey Uso had beautiful arms. Muscular, tattooed, and big enough to make her feel small and delicate in them.

In the weeks following Jey sneaking the Waffle House gift card into her bag, Rhea had felt immeasurably better, refreshed, and in immediate danger of giving her heart away. It wasn’t the gift card itself, instead the implication behind it, the offer of friendship. She wasn’t naïve, she knew she had to tread carefully for herself, but mostly for him. Jey had made it loud and clear he had romantic feelings for her, and Rhea would stab herself before she intentionally hurt him. Jey, braver than she’d expected, put the ball in her court, and Rhea had to take it, and keep taking it because he made her feel… and smile.

Jey was responsible for some of the first real laughs she’d let out since SummerSlam. He didn’t even try and he’d have her clutching her waist, snorting into her arms, red in the face. He was silly and carefree, catching her off guard by jumping up on stair railings and sliding down with “weeeee!” echoing around them. He encouraged her to do it too, holding her hand while she felt giddy like a five year old. Not even embarrassed when people stopped, pointed, and gave them strange looks.

Besides Damian, Jey had become one of the closest friends she had. Her twin would flip a table over if he knew Rhea was starting to prefer Jey’s company. She loved her brother, but she wanted to be around Jey every spare second she had. She’d reached the point of no return, or whatever corny and cryptic way she could use to explain the insanity of not wanting the musky amber and vanilla scent of his cologne to fade from her clothes.

Reaching up, Rhea finger-combed her hair, a last-ditch effort to make it look nice… but not desperate.

“Stopppp.” She shouldn’t have rushed to invite him. Not after Jimmy shocked the world by reappearing after nearly six months. Instead of inviting Jey to her room, she should’ve searched for him and asked how he was doing. He was undoubtedly freaking out and she was being selfish, only thinking of her needs.

What did he see in her? Growling, Rhea balled up the towel and tossed it onto the counter. She was way too proud to text him and tell him to forget her offer. It’d hurt his feelings, and that was the last thing she ever wanted to do.

Rhea walked back into the room, ignoring her phone. Jey easily could have said no, told her he wasn’t up to company. Selfishly, she was glad he hadn’t. She wanted to see him, hug him, thank him for being the one bright spot in her shitty night. Rhea’d repeatedly watched Cathy’s Instagram Story, and then Jey’s. Her heart had turned itself inside out seeing that he’d been there, in the suite, for her.

Recording her entrance. “You did great tonight.” You did great tonight. Jey thought she did good, even after getting her ass handed to her. All thoughts of Jimmy had disappeared, replaced with the urgent need to be near him. Rhea couldn’t wait until Monday to slot herself in his arms, letting his strength ease some of the guilt from her. She’d messed up in the ring, let her rage take over, and then Liv had outsmarted her. Rhea wouldn’t give Dom any credit. He was too busy getting his tenders licked to ever outwit the Eradicator.

No. Rhea had been so consumed with tasting revenge, inflicting a fraction of the pain Dom had caused her, she hadn’t seen Raquel coming. Liv may have won this battle, but she’d have to kill Rhea in order to stop her from taking back her title and her dignity.

A light tapping on the door sent chills down her arms. “Get it together.” Rhea didn’t have time to rethink the black biker shorts she’d pulled on after her shower, or the lack of socks and slippers. Moving toward the door, she cupped her mouth, checking her breath, then reprimanded herself for being ridiculous. She’d brushed her teeth and used mouth wash before texting him. Not like it mattered, anyway. Standing on her tiptoes, she looked into the peephole and broke out into a big grin. On the other side of the door, Jey was holding his phone up fixing his hair. Grin still in place, she unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Jey smiled as soon as her pretty face appeared. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Rhea stepped aside so he could enter the room. His cologne filled her senses and her night was already a hundred times better than it had been. She closed and locked the door, her eyes following him as he sat his backpack and title down, then kicked his shoes off. He was still in his pink YEET shirt and black sweats. Both doing a damn good job making him look fine.

Jey glanced over his shoulder, his smile turning into a knowing grin seeing Rhea watching him. He shoved his phone in his pocket. “Damn. You look cute.” Her cheeks reddened, only making him grin more. He didn't think he’d ever get used to being in this setting with her. Casually hanging out in each other’s hotel rooms, her feet bare, dressed for a comfy night in. She was every definition of cozy. “I like that shirt.” He declared, meeting her at the end of the bed. Someday, he’d surprise her and show her that the same fan had gifted him the same one. “It’s not as fire as seeing you wearin’ my merch tho’.” He glanced down. “But, I like seein’ our pics together.”

“Yeah?” Rhea shifted on her feet, willing herself not to combust as Jey openly checked her out. “You, umm… like the pink one?” The one she’d been wearing nonstop since the night he won the title. She’d only hesitated a few seconds before uploading a sweaty post-workout photo of her wearing it. Jey hadn’t just reshared it, he’d texted her wanting to know what she was “trynna do” to him.

A lot she wanted to answer back.

His head shot up, smiling sheepishly at being caught staring at her bare legs. “C’mon, baby. You don’t gotta ask that.” She’d just about given him a heart attack with that photo. “You gonna give me a hug?”

Rhea nodded, taking his offered hand. She saw the workings of his dimples before her head pressed into his chest.

Jey’s lips ghosted over her hair as she situated herself with a small, happy, sigh. “You did real good tonight.”

“Jey.”

“I’m not lyin’.”

“I lost.”

“Forget that ish.” Rhea’s cold nose rings rubbed against his neck. He didn’t know why she liked sticking her face there so much, but he wasn’t complaining. “You looked sexy as all hell, and you whooped ass.”

“You mean got my ass kicked.”

Jey’s hands dropped to her hips, nudging her back enough so he could look her in the eyes. “Naw, baby. You’re a badass no matter the outcome, aight?”

She shook head in disagreement, even as a pleased smile played on her lips. “No. I don’t want to argue with you though.”

“You’ll see it my way soon enough.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Rhea sighed, leaning her forehead on his chest. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers trailed lightly over the base of his spine, more so to comfort herself.

“For?”

“Being bossy and demanding you come see me after Jimmy just…”

Jey’s brows shot up at her calling herself bossy. Rhea could boss him around all damn day and he’d be a happy man. “Don’t worry ‘bout that mess.”

“Babe.”

Jey beamed at the term of endearment.

Unlike him, Rhea rarely said it. He didn’t know if she was testing the waters since they weren’t technically dating, or if she wasn’t a fan of saying it. She definitely didn’t mind him calling her baby, babe, or honey. He’d seen her posts online. He noted the way her head turned to the side, her hair hanging shyly as a shield.

He knew what was up.

Back in September, they’d snuck out of Raw together, ditching a dejected Damian so they could enjoy a late night, or early morning, breakfast at Denny’s. Jey liked Priest. They had a mutual respect for the grind and a shared understanding that Rhea was important to both of them. That said, hell no was Jey going to feel guilty for not inviting the bigger man. It had been Rhea's idea, her text heavily implying it was dinner for two. Jey plus Rhea.

That didn’t stop Priest from stepping his big boot in their business, his hand out for an invitation.

It took Priest way too damn long to understand the meaning behind Jey’s head jerking and throat clearing when Rhea had stepped away to get her bags.

“Seriously?”

“Look, uce.” Jey blew out a frustrated breath, glancing around to see if Rhea was listening. “I’m beggin’ you here.”

Damian pursed his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe I should go as a chaperone.”

“I ain’t need no chaperone.”

“No?” Damian’s cheeks puffed from holding in a laugh.

Yeetman was too easy to poke at. Jey was a lost cause where Rhea was concerned, his eyes too big and heart clutched in his hands. The dude had to know Damian wasn’t here to make his life easier.

Anyone that set their sights on Rhea had to be cleared by him.

Jey bristled. “Whatchu think imma do, huh? Ask her to take me right there on the table. Eat me as a meal?”

“Best be careful. She might take you up on it.” The thought made Damian want to vomit, but watching Jey’s face and neck burn with embarrassment was worth the discomfort. “You’re a good dude.”

“Thank you.” Jey managed to squeak out. Images of Rhea eating pancakes off of him, or nibbling on him like he was the pancakes, swirled in his head.

“Still.” Damian watched Rhea making her way back, her eyes bouncing between him and Jey. “When I text her in two hours askin’ where she’s at, don’t be offended. Wepa?”

Jey nodded, then jumped about a foot in the air when Rhea’s left hand looped through his arm. “Damn, baby.”

“You okay?” She asked Jey, her eyes focused on her twin.

“Perfect.” Damian tipped his head at them. “Have fun and be safe out there.”

“Thanks, mate.” She watched him disappear around the corner before tugging on Jey’s arm to get his attention. “You guys good?”

“Yeah. He’s jus’ lookin’ out for ya.”

Rhea rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Great.”

“Would you stop?” Rhea asked, sipping her water. “You’ve been judging my food since I ordered it.”

Jey scoffed, glaring at her dainty plate. “It’s ‘cause yous eatin’ an eggwhite omelet and fruit.”

“So?” She poked her fork into her perfectly delicious omelet. “Not all of us wanna eat half the breakfast menu.”

“Man. This is at least three quarters.” He covered his mouth with his napkin, pretending to wipe away crumbs from the piece of toast he’d already demolished. What he was actually doing was hiding his grin.

Rhea eyed him suspiciously. “My bad.”

“Mmmhmm.” He waved his fork over his eggs and hashbrowns. “Least take some of the potatoes. They won’t hurt ya.”

“I don’t know.” They smelled delicious. All of his food had been making her mouth water since the waiter filled up the table with his plates. Maybe a small bite wouldn’t hurt…

“Knew it.” Jey motioned for her to hold up her plate. “Treat yourself tonight, ‘kay?” She nodded, lifting the chipped dish high enough for him to slide half of his hashbrowns next to her sad looking breakfast.

Rhea scooped up a forkful, feeling a little bashful that he was watching for her reaction. She shifted in her seat, the reddish-brown vinyl squeaking in the otherwise quiet diner. “Mmm.” The warm, crunchy and savory taste of the potatoes burst in her mouth. “Mmm.” Again she quietly moaned, swooping in for another forkful.

“See.” Jey turned in the booth, stretching his right leg out so he could fetch his phone out of his pocket. In front of him, Rhea scooped up another round of hashbrowns, shoveling them unapologetically into her mouth. She smiled around the fork when she caught his eyes, and he wanted to capture this moment in time

And so he did.

Rhea’s eyes widened. “Babe!” Hashbrown particles sprayed onto her plate and the table, her hands flying up to her mouth, humiliation peppering across her face.

Jey burst out laughing, his phone shaking in his hand. “Holy shit. That was amazing.” Holy shit! She’d called him babe. It landed like Cupid’s arrow slicing through his chest. Jey stared at her, smiling like a fool as she brushed hashbrown pieces into a napkin. “Thought you liked them by all that moanin’ you was doin’.”

“Shut up.” It had no punch behind it. “I’m so embarrassed.” Rhea tried to discreetly look around, feeling slightly better when the other patrons were talking to each other. A guy, probably a college student, was sitting in a booth three down from them, notebook open with a steady supply of coffee. “Better that you find out now.”

His brows furrowed. “What? You spit your food often?”

“No.” She poked at some of the fruit, feeding off of his good mood. “I’m a klutz and a dork.”

“Damn.”

“Shame, huh?”

Jey sat back with a heavy sigh, his arms crossing over his chest. “And here I was thinkin’ you had it all together. Guess I dodged a bullet.”

“Big time." Rhea bit into a slice of cantaloupe. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

She sat her fork down, wiping away another piece of hashbrown from the table. “Is this what you wanted?”

“What you mean exactly?”

Rhea waited for him to straighten up. He smiled encouragingly, possibly sensing her sudden nervousness. “Late night dinners after work? No future promises?”

“Hey.” Leaning into the tacky table, Jey held his hand out to her, which she immediately took. “I like you, a lot. Everyone knows that.” He paused seeing another piece of hashbrown on the table. Babe. “I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t wish for more, but I don’t need that.”

“What do you need then?” Her hand felt so good in his she could cry. Did that mean she was ready, barely a month after having her life turned upside down, to rush into a new relationship? Jey made her feel incredible. Seen. But what did it say about her if she wasn’t willing to be alone? Was she even capable anymore? Rhea was a strong, very independent woman. Before Dom, she was making a name for herself, on her own.

Now, she was clinging to Jey’s hospitality.

Jey’s thumb traced circles over her hand, eyes searching hers. “Lemme put it like this. Late night dinners after work, lunches in caterin’, those damn ‘break the ice’ quizzes you find online.” He stopped when she laughed softly. “Yeah. Those. All ‘dat. I want it. ‘Cause at the end of the night, I get to be your friend.”

“Jey.” Rhea brought her other hand up to cover theirs. “Is that enough for you? After Dom and getting ditched by my family, this should’ve been the worst month of my life…” She pushed away the memory of Dom kissing Liv. For some reason that one didn’t hurt as much as the week leading to SummerSlam. Duping her loneliness with his false promises. Dom had made her feel like the early days, like she was his princesa, not Liv.

His acting was Academy Award worthy. And yet. “I’m happier than I thought I’d be given the betrayal.” Rhea’s index finger traced over Jey’s hand. His knuckles were a little rough, in need of cream. He quietly cleared his throat to bring her back in. “Sorry.” He smiled softly. “Jey. It’s mostly due to you. If I’m being honest. I just don’t want to lead you on. I’m trying to figure out who I am, and I… I don’t wanna hurt you in the process.”

“Baby, listen.” Jey jigged their hands, grinning like a damn goof because she’d made his night, hell, his damn month, by saying his company made her happy. “You will always be enough. Don’t worry ‘bout me having expectations, ‘cause I don’t want to be anywhere else. Yeet?” He added to lighten the mood.

It worked.

Rhea inhaled a deep breath, almost blowing it out like a raspberry when his brows waggled playfully at her. Slowly, she released the air, her shoulders relaxing. “Wanna share your pancakes with me?”

Jey didn’t want to think and/or talk about his twin, and what it meant that he’d shown up to help Roman. After WrestleMania, Jimmy had gone silent, ghosting him. Jey’d thought about blocking his number, cutting away every bridge between them, every chance at reconciliation. He hadn’t. Unlike Roman, and Solo, he and Jimmy shared a connection he couldn’t turn off, no matter how angry and disappointed he was.

Rhea poked his hip, hating how he’d retreated. “Jey?”

“Sorry.” He muttered. “I’ll deal wit’ it later, okay?”

Rhea wasn’t convinced. The faraway look in his eyes had her on edge, but she didn’t want to overwhelm him. “Okay.” She said, rubbing at his lower back.

“You hungry?"

“What?” Rhea guffawed. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged. “I’m famished. Had me a few drinks in the party lounge and now they sloshing ‘round in empty space.”

She laughed again. “Uh huh. So what. You came here thinking I'd buy you dinner?”

Jey’s face burned underneath his beard. “Kinda.” Rhea shook her head good-naturedly, starting to rant about how he needed to eat if he was going to drink.

“It’s not good for you, ya know?”

He didn’t pay much attention. Too mesmerized by the way the crappy hotel lighting still made her blue eyes radiant. Her skin glowed, healthy and fresh after scrubbing all of her makeup off. Rhea was unique. Hard and soft, yet perfect in his estimation. There wasn’t anyone like her. She could boss him around and scold him all she wanted and Jey’d still want to be here, his hands on her hips, the scent of her body wash rubbing off on his clothes, her still damp hair leaving wet patches on his chest.

“…then I’m picking.”

Jey froze, tuning into the last part, the most important part. Naw. “Please non’ that clean, vegan, crap.”

Rhea scoffed, her arms falling away from him, offended. “Chicken and rice isn’t vegan, by the way.”

“No, duh.”

She huffed, shooting him a glare. “You liked that one vegan place, so stop crying about it.” Rhea barely caught his eyes rolling, but she was the bigger person and ignored it. Placing her right knee on the mattress, she stretched across the bed, reaching for her phone.

Got damn. Jey’s eyes bugged. He didn’t care about food now that the curve of her butt in those biker shorts was on display. Her shirt slid up, giving him the perfect view of her slender and muscular body. Her toned legs, way too damn tempting. Her bare feet, way too damn cute to be real. He loved the tattoos inked all the way to her thighs and backside, some disappearing underneath her shorts. Rhea leaned further across the bed, her shoulders flexing and he was positive she was doing it on purpose.

Swallowing, he stepped back, eyes still on her plump bottom. “That’s what you want, then fine.”

“I was thinking.” Rhea gave herself a moment to calm the raging heat consuming her and the loud way her blood was pulsing in her ears. She was testing a theory. That was all. Pushing off of the bed, she stood and innocently turned to face him. Jey’s eyes jumped from where her butt had been to her face.

Rhea was right.

Jey had been checking her out.

She liked that. “Cheeseburgers, fries, and…”

His mouth watered in excitement. “C’mon now. Talk to me. What else?” He interrupted.

“Milkshakes?” Jey tossed his head back, his hands YEETING up and down. Rhea giggled watching him be such a goofball. “Sound good?”

“Don’t gotta ask.”

Smiling, she pulled up the Uber Eats app on her phone, scrolling to see which places near the hotel were still serving and delivering. Vegan crap was good on days she didn’t lose title matches. Tonight. Rhea wanted greasy burgers, salty fries, and Jey’s companionship.

“Here. Lemme take care of it.” Jey dug his wallet out of his pocket, opening it to get his credit card out. “You know I was kiddin’ ‘bout you buying me dinner.”

“My treat.”

“Rhea.”

“Jey.” She glanced up from her phone. “My treat.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” Her lips turned up at the corners, eyes already moving back to her phone, fingers tapping on the screen. “Next one’s on me tho’.”

“You want Oreo or strawberry?”

“Strawberry.”

“Done.” Rhea typed in her payment information, set their food to be delivered at the front deak, then tossed her phone over her shoulder, letting it land anticlimactically on the bed.

“Do you have any sevens?”

“Go Fish.”

“You’re kidding?”

Snickering, Jey snatched a card from the deck and held it up.

“Ugh!” Grumbling, Rhea reached her hand behind her and snatched it. She flipped it around and stomped her feet into the pillows at the head of the bed. A blasted three. Damn. She kicked the pillows again. “Shut up.” She added, hearing Jey puffing with laughter on the floor. She was not a sore loser, no matter what that jerk said. Rhea didn’t appreciate how he gloated every damn time she had to draw a bloody card. So what if she wanted to actually win at the stupid game.

“Got any twos?”

Rhea pulled the card from her hand and flicked it over her head. She grinned at his “oof.”

“Hilarious.” Jey reached for the card, adding it to the three he already had. He opted not to tell her he’d completed another set. The floor was quickly lining up with his neat rows.

“Any jacks?”

“Go Fish.”

“You sure?”

“Go.” Rhea said slowly through her teeth. “Fish.”

“Damn.”

“Pull a card, big guy.”

Jey started to lift a card from the pile, then paused. “I can’t even get a handsome stud?”

“Nah.” She teased, her toes wiggling against the pillows. “I just got a flash of you spitting your milkshake into your beard. Points deducted.”

“Pfffft.” He scoffed in disbelief. “That was your fault.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be actin’ all innocent up there. You had me laughin’ so hard I damn near choked.”

She let out a hehehe sound, pleased with herself. Not everyone got to boast they could make Jey full belly laugh, fist pounding in the air, slapping his thighs, covering his mouth to hold in the chortles. Rhea had cemented herself in the elite club, and tonight had been the cherry… or strawberry on top.

Rhea gripped the sides of the bathroom sink, her body shaking with laughter. Back inside the room, Jey was grouching and hollering for her to hurry her ass up. “I’m… coming.” She wheezed, her laughs were choked air more than anything.

“Rhea, boo, these damn napkins are soaked.”

She gripped the counter harder, crossing her legs because her laughter was threatening to make her pee her pants. “Ooooh.” She breathed out, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Okay… okay.” As delicately as possible, Rhea grabbed a washcloth from the counter and ran it under warm water. After wringing it out, she lifted the bottom of her shirt to wipe up her tears. Jey called for her again. “I’m coming, calm you briefs.”

“Damn, woman. Finally got that fine ass out here.” Jey said, pouting from the floor. He had two soggy paper napkins pressed to his face. “My beard’s gonna start crusting.”

Rhea scrunched her nose at the visual. “Eww. Here.” She sat on her knees in front of him, her left hand reaching out to cradle his jaw. His lips parted in surprise, a small gasp escaping. She ignored it, and the twinge inside her breastbone, choosing to focus on removing the napkins and tossing them into the to-go box. She replaced them with the warm rag.

Jey didn’t even try to breathe. Her cool hands stole every breath and thought from him. Her tongue darted to the corner of her mouth in concentration, clearly not aware of how close it was to his. His eyes flit from the side of her face to her neck then back. “You ain't gotta do this.” He finally spoke. The richness from the strawberry milkshake made his voice deeper.

Her hands and heart paused at the same time. While her heart continued on its way, her hands remained frozen on his face in dread. Oh gosh. Oh gosh. What was she thinking? What was she doing? Cleaning off his face like she was his girlfriend or wife. Rhea never did this kind of stuff for Dom. Maybe a couple of times, but some days she didn’t want to baby him. She just wanted to cuddle and rest for a while. “Sorry. Here.”

Jey took the wet cloth, his gaze stuck on her as she scrambled to sit next to him, her back leaning against the foot of the bed. He hadn’t meant to upset her.

Rhea lifted her Oreo milkshake, taking a long pull from the straw, needing the cold drink to cool her burning skin.

Quietly, he brought the rag back to his face, passing it over his beard a few times, then lowered his hand to his side. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.” Rhea didn’t turn her head to look at him, too in her own mind to see if he was uncomfortable with what she’d done. Her cheeks flamed again. Why was she so awkward? Beside her, Jey scooted a fraction closer, their thighs touching. The heat from his left side warmed her. Her gaze followed the long line of his legs down to his white socked feet.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, only the sounds of the wrappers on their burgers crinkling and the occasional slurping from their straws disturbed the room. “Hey.” Jey sat his burger back in the box, his foot knocking into hers.

“Hmm?”

“Look at me for a sec.” Jey gave a short prayer that what he was about to do didn’t get him tossed from her room. Rhea shifted next to him, her hands cradling her cheeseburger, uncaring that some of the cheese had smeared onto her fingers. Jey dipped two fingers into his milkshake, biting his tongue as he quickly wiped the cold strawberry goop across her right cheek.

“What the hell?” Rhea flinched back, confused, but not upset.

Jey smiled reassuringly at her, blindly grabbing the damp washcloth he’d sat on the lid of the food box. “Here. Lemme clean that up.” Softly, he cupped her jaw, just like she’d done for him. He forced his breathing to remain calm, but it was a losing battle because her eyes had never looked bluer, more piercing.

“Jey.” Rhea almost dropped her burger. “What’re you doing?” He smiled again in answer, lifting the cloth to her cheek and patting it clean. Her eyes didn’t blink until he sat back, tossing the washcloth where he’d discarded it minutes before. Acting as if he hadn’t just shocked her entire system, he picked up his burger and settled back against the bed. “Jey.” She repeated, her skin tingling and buzzing where he’d touched her.

“Eatin’ some dinner with my favorite person.”

“What?” She squeaked.

Jey smiled around a mouthful of burger, trying to play this all off as small stuff, deep down hoping it had eased her mind. “Now we even and you ain’t gotta be worried.”

“Thank you.” Rhea whispered, wondering why she was stunned that he was a teddy bear, the sweetest man she’d ever met in her life.

“You good, boo.”

With Jey. Yeah.

“Whatever. You sure you didn’t shoot some out of your nose?”

“Woman.” Jey’s lightly tugged on the ends of her hair. “Ask for a card already.”

“Geeze.” Hehehe, Rhea cackled to herself. “Do you have any queens?”

“Jus’ you.” The room grew noticeably quieter. Jey’s tongue darted out to anxiously wet his lips. He stared blankly at the cards in his hands. Waiting.

“Smooth.” She managed to sound normal, thankful Jey didn’t see her legs kicking in the air, or her arms pathetically swinging in front of her.

Not even thirty minutes later, Rhea flipped onto her stomach, pouting while Jey gathered up the cards and placed them back in the box. He’d spent a full minute shooting off his big victorious mouth, only shutting up when she’d threatened to toss him out of her room, without his precious shoes. “Don’t tempt me to sell those on Ebay.” He’d gotten real quiet after that.

“It’s not fair.”

“Admit it.” Jey bent forward, tossing the pack of cards into his unzipped backpack, unaware of Rhea’s eyes admiring the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the sliver of skin exposed at his lower back, and the line of underwear peeking over his black pants. “I’m jus’ better than ya.”

“I won the first game.”

“You did, and you are gettin’ better.” Jey offered, settling back and sighing as his body tried to tell him it was exhausted. He wasn’t ready to leave her, not until she started hinting she wanted to call it a night.

Rhea scooted up, close enough her breath fanned across the side of his neck. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” Who knew she’d take Go Fish as seriously or competitively as she did. “You’re too impatient is all.”

“No way.”

“You ain’t throwing your cards at me after the first game no more, so I’d say you’re gettin’ better.”

“Hmm.” It still wasn’t fair that their record was one and nine for the night. She, however, wouldn’t admit her lack of patience was to blame. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Truth is truth.”

Jey crossed his feet at the ankles. The movement gave her a noseful of his hair. “Watch it, mister.” Rhea joked, reaching over his shoulders and draping her arms around his front. Jey hesitated just a moment, then his hands covered hers, tugging them up to his chest.

“Hmmmph.” He mumbled, content.

“You sleepy?”

“Little bit.”

Rhea leaned her head into his, willing her breath not to give away how unbelievably scared she was to be this vulnerable. Holding hands, occasionally calling him “babe” and “baby” were different from this. She’d been overthinking everything between them, making every touch and look bigger than they were.

All week, Rhea had woken up with Jey on her mind, debating how early was too early to text or call him, if she should mention she missed him the days they weren’t together. She’d like it if he’d tell her that.

At first, she’d passed it off as Bad Blood jitters mixed with having to see Dom and Liv. Nope. She’d been looking forward to making them both bleed and cry.

It was Jey, creeping into her thoughts, the new found desire to clothe herself in his merch, tease him online, test how deep his affections were for her… because she was looking at him funny now. Rhea had wanted Jey to be at Bad Blood, not because he worked for the company, or because his family was on the card. She’d wanted to look up and see he was there for her. Not just Priest waiting in gorilla.

Every day, she’d opened their messages and started to ask him, and then she’d chickened out and deleted them.

Rhea: Hey, it’s Rhea

Rhea: Will you be at BB? Wanna watch me kick ass?

Rhea: Hi 🤭 I know you’ll be in ATL… do you wanna watch my match? I’d really appreciate it

Rhea: Hi 🥹 It’d mean the world to me if you’d stick around for my match?! I heard a rumor that you can watch from the suite and remain out of sight for privacy.

She’d deleted them all, and Jey’d been there anyway.

“You wanna talk about tonight?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened during your match?”

“Not particularly.”

“Rhea.” Jey’s chin dipped down as he watched Rhea flatten her left hand over where his heart was picking up speed. “You gon’ talk to Priest?”

No. “Not yet.” Damian, to his credit, had checked in on her and offered to take her out to dinner, or an axe throwing place to let off steam. As tempting as the latter offer had been, she’d wanted to drown her sorrows alone. Also, Damian had beaten Finn and he deserved a victory celebration with the boys, not another night taking care of her.

She was learning to stand on her own again.

“I got distracted.”

“How so?”

“Seeing Dom hanging in the cage wasn’t enough. I wanted him to hurt. I…” She moved her forehead to his shoulder, feeling embarrassed admitting how weak she’d been seeing that slimy rat mocking her.

Jey curled his index and middle fingers around hers. “Wanted revenge?”

“Yes and no.”

“It’s okay, you kno’?”

“What?”

“Wanting to get back at him.”

“Jey.” Rhea groaned, frustrated with herself. “I should have my title back now. Not more humiliation. I’m so tired of feeling like a loser.”

“I get it.”

“Do you think I was stupid?”

“Never.” Uncrossing his legs, he flexed his feet on the carpet. “You gonna finish that?” Jey used their clasped hands to point to her half-finished milkshake. She’d left it next to him when she’d climbed up on the bed and he’d been sneaking hungry looks at it since then.

Rhea snorted in his ear, surprised by the topic change. “You’re kidding me.” Jey shook his head, his curls brushing over her nose, pulling at her rings. She giggled. “Fine. It’s yours.”

“Yes!”

Jey excitedly tore his left hand away from hers and greedily snatched up the cup. Rhea’s stomach swished at his sweet apology, and the cute way he was acting, and… she was losing it again. Think friends. “Wait. Lemme have one last sip.”

“It’s mine now.”

Right in his ear she whispered. “Please.” Jey’s head jerked, barely missing slamming into her face. She could feel his body shudder, and it took mental and physical strength to stop herself from licking at the earring pierced through his earlobe.

Please. Stop being such a freak.

“Just one.”

Gritting his teeth, Jey held up the cup, forgetting to blink when she used their hands on his chest to push herself up.

Rhea didn’t know what possessed her, or what bravery seeped into her thoughts. Maybe it was the scent of his cologne drawing her lips around the straw, his strong grip on the cup, or their other hands still connected. Whatever it was made her “mmm” as the frozen liquid touched her tongue.

This woman was doing too much. Jey forced air to leave his lungs and his lower half to stay calm.

Rhea snuck another sip of the Oreo shake.

“Aye.” Jey yanked the cup away, laughing. “You said one sip.”

“Sorry.” Grinning, Rhea wrapped her arms securely around his chest. As long as he was here, she wasn’t letting him go. “That was mine, ya know.”

“You abandoned it when you launched yourself onto the bed.” He took a large sip, slurping obnoxiously.

Rhea smirked. “Note to self: Jey Uso likes milkshakes more than me.”

“Pfft.” Jey took another big sip. The vanilla ice cream and crumbled up Oreo cookies stealing his attention. It wasn’t his beloved strawberry, but still delicious. “Almost. Not more.”

She squeezed him tighter, clasping her hands together, letting him finish the shake in peace.

“Did you enjoy it?” Jey asked a few minutes later.

Rhea suppressed a yawn. “What?”

“Beating Dom with the kendo stick?”

“More than I should’ve.”

Jey drank up the last bits of Oreo chunks, then tossed the cup into the to-go box. “That’s what matters.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t get revenge, but a mental release from the shit he put you through.”

Frowning, Rhea lowered her cheek to the mattress. “I should have my title back.”

“At what cost, boo?” His hands made their way back to hers, unable to go too long without contact. “You get your title and all that anger still bottled up inside you?”

“Jey.”

“Baby, listen.” He looked at his IC title sitting on the desk. A title he didn’t know he’d wanted until he’d freed himself from his family and years of mental and physical abuse. It took Cody and Sami planting seeds and later providing the tools to get him out from under Roman’s rule. It wasn’t easy, but Jey had landed on his feet and made sure people knew he was more than Roman’s cousin and Jimmy’s twin.

He busted his damn ass for over a decade to get his chance. And now that he’d tasted singles gold he wanted that feeling again. It was already in his veins. On some small scale, he got his girl… he understood why she was angry at herself. “I kno’ it’s easy sittin’ here holding my own gold and telling you not to be upset, but tonight was ‘bout more than the championship. It was you showin’ up and takin’ somethin’ back for yourself. Those clowns learned that my baby, Rhea ‘Bloody’ Ripley, gets back up no matter what.”

Rhea’s eyes watered for the first time since she’d stormed through gorilla and found the nearest bathroom to cry in. “I let them win.”

“Naw. Liv may have the title, thanks to Raquel’s help, but Dom got his chicken tenders fried on live TV.”

She snorted loudly, her body shaking with genuine laughter. “Happy Birthday to me.”

“Hell yeah.” Jey chuckled, his chest puffing up hearing her laughing instead of beating herself up. “Should’ve seen me up in the suite yellin’ ‘get his ass,’ ‘ that’s right, baby,’ ‘damn, girl.”

“For real?

He nodded. “Only wish Cathy got it on camera, too. I was so damn proud of you.”

Rhea’s heart thumped from her chest into the mattress. “Yeah?”

“C’mon now.” Jey threaded their fingers together, his thumbs sweeping over her knuckles. “Tonight wasn’t ‘bout the title, so don’t be down on yourself. Monday, you’re gonna march into the arena, knock some heads together, and demand a rematch since you didn’t technically lose. You gonna get that baby back in your hands, promise.”

Heat erupted underneath her skin. Maybe, she wondered, not for the first time, I already have my baby in my arms. “Thank you.”

“Mmmhmm.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, her eyes closing while he traced patterns on her skin. Rhea didn’t want to fall asleep yet, not when they could stretch their time together a little while longer. She was sleepy enough to ask him to stay with her, not for sex, not tonight when it wouldn’t mean what she was beginning to want it to. Rhea was way too tired and emotionally compromised to ask him to hold her beyond what their friendship had been thus far.

“You want to talk about Jimmy?” Rhea carefully, asked, breaking the silence.

Jey turned his face into his arm, hiding a yawn. “Not really.”

“I don’t let more than three days go without hearing from Priest. I can’t imagine six months.”

“Rhea.” He didn’t want to discuss his twin, anyone from his family if he was being honest. Solo, Roman. Nobody. Jey was done with them all.

“I’m not trying to press you.” She stuck her face into the top blanket, yawning as discreetly as possible. “Can you listen instead?”

“Of course.”

“After Dom stabbed me in the back, I don’t remember being escorted out of the ring or walking backstage. Nothing. Just Damian waiting there.”

Everything was fuzzy in her memory after the awful grin Dom had hurled at her. Rhea knew her face, every reaction, was plastered on the big screens in the arena, knew everyone had just witnessed the worst moment of her life. Sitting in the ring, alone, her ears buzzing, shoulder numb, her mind frozen in shock, her heart… that had rolled away somewhere under the steel chair, ripped out and smashed into nothingness. How she’d gone from that to stumbling into Damian’s arms is a mystery. That fact was trivial. What mattered was her brother wrapping her up and crying with her while her heart bled between them. He’d shielded her from the monsters of the world, like he’d always done.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

His fingers halted their pattern making. “I think so.”

“Romantic and platonic.”

“Platonic?”

Rhea wiggled her arms, silently demanding he play with her hands again. “I kinda think of Damian as my soulmate. Totally not romantic, but we’re connected in a way that’s bonded us for life. He calls me his ride-or-die and it’s mutual. I’d do anything for him.”

“He’s hella scary when it comes to you.” Jey didn’t appreciate Priest popping up every damn time he wanted to be alone with her, but he was glad Rhea had someone, terrifying, looking out for her.

“I’ll protect you from him.” She teased.

Jey huffed. “Ha ha.”

“You told me you’re proud of me. I’m proud of you, too. You know?”

“How so?”

She stretched her legs out one at a time, her toes flexing to release some of the oncoming achiness. “I can’t even imagine Damian siding with Finn and Dom. That would’ve completely broken me. I look at you, and I’m astonished you’re sitting here, smiling and happy the way you are.”

His breath hitched loud enough for her to hear. Jey felt her lift her head to check on him. “I’m good.”

Rhea didn’t believe him. “Hey.” She turned her right hand over for him to link with. “I’m gonna be better at telling you how amazing you are. I watched you put yourself first, when it goes against your grain. You walked away from your family, your blood, the people you’d pledged your life to. That kind of courage? Jey, I strive to be like that.”

“C’mon.” Jey shifted, uncomfortable with her praises. How was he courageous when he’d abandoned his family? Only a coward dips when it gets too hard.

“No, listen to me. You had every right to get out. I saw all of your potential and wanted to utilize it with Judgment Day. It stung when you didn’t choose us, but oh well, I guess.” Rhea laughed lightly, remembering every failed attempt to recruit him to her team. Who knew, a year and some change later, he would be hers anyways. “You know, I was proud of you when you quit the business, taking the bullets and knives and making something incredible out of them.”

“Yeah?” He asked, shyly. The only time he’d ever considered leaving the Bloodline for Judgment Day was when Finn had thrown out Rhea’s name. “Rhea’s a fan.” It sounded like a simple statement, but to Jey, the guy with a raging crush on the baddie, it had sent him pacing for hours, reconsidering family loyalty.

“Look at you, Mr. Intercontinental Champion, singles star, selling out merch on the daily, having the longest lines at fan events. You did that. After your twin hurt you. I’m amazed, proud, and kinda jealous of your strength.”

And Jimmy still chose Roman.

What about the crap he’d yelled about protecting Jey? He was sick over missing his twin, disgusted that at his age he still wanted his brother to see him as more than a damn clown that needed rescuing. His throat tightened, clogging from the greasy food, but mostly because Jimmy was back and the wound he’d tightly bandaged was reopening.

Rhea squeezed his hand, offering silent comfort.

Jey’s eyes followed the shape of her long fingers, the tattoos adding character, her nails rounded to oval points. He didn’t know if it was possible to find any fault with her. Three months ago, he’d thrown out all caution, choosing to play in Dom’s dumbass face. Any other day, any other person, and Jey would’ve scolded himself for the disrespect he’d shown Dom, but Rhea made him act out. Dom had been openly flaunting Liv’s affections, and Jey’d discovered how protective he was over Rhea. She didn’t deserve someone that treated her like an afterthought.

She should be every thought.

Right there on live television, he had asked Rhea to give him a chance. Jey’d risked looking like a fool, getting his pride pummeled if it backfired… and it had.

She didn’t call, never asked for his number, and ignored his Waffle House offer. For a few minutes, Jey’d honestly thought it was his time. He’d replayed Rhea’s backstage interview with Jackie, her “YEET” when she was asked if he had her number, waiting longer than necessary after work thinking she’d seek him out. Instead, she’d gone back to Mysterio, and his chest had caved in seeing her online posts about her Latino Heat. For the rest of July, Jey had licked his wounds, leaving Rhea be, instead focusing on his career, not the girl.

And then SummerSlam happened.

And Rhea had called him.

And called him again and again.

Jey had snuck her the Waffle House gift card, his way of offering friendship, because no matter how badly he wanted her to choose him, he still wanted to protect her.

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Sunrise and Fort Lauderdale, FL

Rhea: have you left for home yet?

Jey 🧇: nope. you good?

Rhea: wanna have breakfast with me?

Jey 🧇: for real?!

Rhea: someone left me a Waffle House gift card

Rhea: I heard I need to eat there

Rhea: my treat 😊

Jey 🧇: 👀

Jey 🧇: 👀👀

Jey 🧇: they open at 7… wanna meet in the lobby, or?

Rhea: Yes! We can take my car. I’m dressed for the day. Just need to check out by 10.

Jey 🧇: Same. I’ll meet you in a bit

Jey stared at his phone, the text cursor blinking at him.

Exiting out of Messages, he locked his phone and pocketed it, his mind screaming reminders that this wasn’t a date. Rhea wasn’t ready for that. Hell, he didn’t know if he was either. If Jey made it official, then he'd spin, overthink every detail until he messed up. He’d offered his shoulder and his friendship, and the last thing he wanted to do was be too much too soon. Rhea sought him out in one of her lowest moments, a fact he’d never take for granted. He wanted her to trust him, get to know him, and vice versa. Beneath the heavy makeup and snapping teeth, Rhea was proving to be what he’d already seen: soft, gentle, beautiful.

“Damn.” Rolling his shoulders, Jey stood up from the bed, walking over to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. It wasn’t a date, but he still wanted to look nice for her. Frowning at his basic black tee, black sweats, and black and white Adidas shoes, he started reaching for his phone to ask for Jimmy’s opinion… “Shit.” He cursed loudly, heart squeezing uncomfortably. “Damnit.”

Damn it all to hell.

He was on his own. Cody would tell him, for the millionth time, to invest in a three-piece suit. Would Rhea even like that? Sami was definitely out since he had the worst fashion taste Jey had ever seen. He stands behind every one of his criticisms before Sami joined the Bloodline. His family had standards, something he and Jim used to laugh about like misbehaving five year olds.

Jey needed to think casually. He and Rhea both had long drives home, and if she was like him, she’d loathe the idea of changing again after packing up her suitcases. “She prolly goin’ for comfy.”

Yeah. Simple.

Less than forty minutes later, Rhea’d sent him her room number, and Jey’d tripped over his suitcase, faceplanting on top of the bed. Sprawled out like a dumbass, he’d kicked his feet out, embarrassed that a man closing in on forty was this stupid over a girl. For Rhea, though, he’d forgive himself. Besides, no one saw him, he’d bounced up, shaken off the jitters, and admired his decision to switch the tee out for a black polo. He’d added one of his gold chains, sprayed his cologne, and checked his hair countless times.

The closer Jey got to Rhea’s room, his anxiety spiked and then skyrocketed, his feet landing heavily on the carpeted hallway. In hindsight, chasing Rhea had been a breeze compared to her actually wanting to spend time with someone like him: a hot head, a man consumed with self-loathing, used his fists more than his words, a man not suitable to take home to meet the parents. Selfishly, Jey couldn’t turn away… not when Rhea had asked for his friendship. Not when the aching in his chest lessened at the sound of her voice.

619, 620, 621.

His heart rate hit turbo speed.

622.

Jey stopped, balled his damp fists, uncurled them, wiped them on his pants, and finally lifted his right hand to announce his arrival. Rhea must’ve been waiting by the door, because it immediately swung open and his nerves melted away. In front of him, she stood shyly in a black cropped top, jeans and her lucky Vans. Her hair was down, slightly curled, no makeup.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Jey grinned, equally shy. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh.” Rhea’s face warmed. “Thanks. You, um. You look nice, too.”

He licked at his lips. “Appretiate it.”

“Was this place hard to find?” Rhea’s mouth twitched watching Jey comprehend the joke, or her silly attempt at one.

“Nah.” He laughed. “It got a little dicey on the elevator, but I made it here in one piece.”

She smiled. “Let me get my bag and then we can head out. I can’t believe I’ve never had Waffle House before.”

“Your life’s about to be changed."

“I count on it.” Rhea didn’t mean for her eyes to linger on his arms, specifically the bulge of his biceps highlighted by the tighter sleeves of his shirt. Her gaze quickly flicked to his, and her mouth went dry. Jey’s face had reddened enough to match hers. So, they were navigating this new path together. Good.

“I had an idea. Lemme kno’ if you’re game or not.”

“What is it?”

Jey scratched at the back of his neck. “I can order my usual to go, and we can eat in the car.”

“Jey.” Rhea slipped her bag over her shoulder, eying him warily. “We don’t have to do that.”

“I kno’, but no pressure, right?”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, the brown of his eyes bright and inviting. “Yeah. Plus, we won’t have anyone spying on us, or people takin’ pics of me dribblin’ syrup all over myself.”

“Does that happen often?” She asked, teasing.

“Mind your own.”

Rhea laughed, tugging on her purse strap. “Do you at least chew with your mouth closed?”

Jey’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Baby, don’t play me that way. I have some manners.”

Her eyes widened, blood blazing.

Jey remained nonplussed, unaware of what he’d said.

Rhea applauded herself for keeping her car clean, because there was no way she’d have Jey Uso in a dirty backseat. Not like that. A wave of blood surged into her cheeks at the double entendre. Sitting. Eating. Together. That’s what Rhea meant. Both of them on opposite sides, the middle seat pushed down so they could utilize the cupholders. She cleared her throat, loudly, while Jey was inside the diner picking up their breakfast order.

She hadn’t intended for him to offer to eat in the car. Rhea didn’t care if anyone saw them, or took photos. She’d learned to go about her life, ignoring outside noise as much as possible. Breakfast with Jey would turn a few heads if they were recognized, but she’d be damned before being ashamed to be seen with him, or worry what dirt sheets wrote about them. According to some of them, Rhea had already slept with Jey, so breakfast at Waffle House wasn’t clickbait worthy.

Cramming into her backseat, his playlist in the background, chocolate chip waffles melting in her mouth… that sounded much, much, better.

The diner doors opened, and Rhea smiled softly, watching from the back, as a couple with a toddler stepped out and headed for a car two rows ahead of where she was parked. If she squinted, she may be able to pick out Jey standing by the counter, impatiently waiting for his food. She chuckled, amused, then swept her hands across the seats one more time before reaching over the center console for the packet of antibacterial wipes she always had with her.

Surprisingly, Rhea wasn’t as nervous as she was when she’d texted Jey. Even though it wasn’t a date, it was the first step in exploring possibilities. Worst case scenario, they walked away from this trial as friends and coworkers. Best case scenario… Rhea didn’t even know. It had only been two weeks since her mind and heart were tied up with Dom, and now she was already hanging out with another man. Damian had told her to be careful, but he didn’t tell her stop or stay away from Jey. Rhea hadn’t told her parents, because the last time she’d mentioned Jey’s name, her mom had gone quiet and then later messaged Rhea that she was concerned she wasn’t giving herself time to heal.

Wasn’t she? Jey factored into her healing. He told her stupid jokes, funny stories about his years on the road, early days breaking into the business and the hardships he and Jimmy… and even Roman had faced along the way. He took her mind off of her sorrows and gave her something to laugh about and admire. She was quickly learning that Jey Uso was an incredible human, with a scary obsession with Waffle House.

Balling the wipe up, Rhea tossed it into the driver’s seat, telling herself she’d deal with it later. Jey was still gone, and her mood was chipper. Just an hour before, they’d walked through the hotel lobby, side-by-side, comfortable and natural like they’d already done it thousands of times before. Jey had held the doors open for her, even her car door, with a soft warning to watch her head as she’d climbed in. He didn’t see the way her face had been molten, or her lips morph into an evil grin before slamming her palm on the horn when he’d jogged around the front of her car. Jey’d yelped, his arms flailing in the air, sending her into hysterics.

Rhea wasn’t laughing when he’d insisted on hooking his phone up to her car, since his music was “superior” or whatever bullshit he had tried telling her. Rhea knew it was punishment, but she’d bitten her tongue, not even mad. Jey’s big frame filled up the passenger seat, his scent intoxicating, company welcome.

On the drive to Waffle House, he had talked her through two of his favorite songs, animated in a way that had her close to admitting his choice in music was alright. Besides, Rhea liked how his hands did their own talking, keeping perfect time with the beat. She may be open to hearing more of his favorite songs.

Too distracted by people watching and thinking about Jey, she didn’t see him exit Waffle House and make his way to the car. His face appeared in the window, scaring her so badly she bumped her head on the roof of the car. “Ahh! What the bloody hell?”

Jey grinned, apologetically. “Open the door, baby. I got the goods.”

Rolling her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest, she leaned over and pushed the door open enough for Jey to use his hip and backside to give him enough room to climb in. “Can you take these, please?” He asked as Rhea scooted back and tucked her right leg under her.

“Here.” Jey passed her the drink carrier, then slid into his seat, being careful not to drop the takeout bag. Rhea’s stomach growled as the pungent scent of potatoes and cheese filled the car. “Yum.”

“Right? Oh man, it’s been too long.”

Rhea grabbed their straws from the carrier, her gaze still watching as he pulled a white styrofoam box from the bag. “Tell me that’s the waffles.”

“Two chocolate chip waffles, hell yeah.” He flashed her his toothy grin. “I asked for two forks and knives, since we’re sharing. Triple hash browns, scattered and covered, mmm mmm mmmm. No cheese on the scrambled eggs, ‘cause I didn’t know if you’d want it. The rest is nonnegotiable.”

“Thank you.” Rhea put their lemonades in the cupholders, keeping her coffee to sip on. “Hurry, my stomach’s seconds away from telling on me.”

“I got you.” Jey finished prepping the waffles then handed her the box in exchange for his own coffee. She snatched one of the forks and shoved an impressive chunk of chocolate chip waffle into her mouth.

Rhea’s eyes closed, the chocolate and syrup melting on her tongue. “Mmm.”

“Uh huh.” He took a drink of his coffee, sending up thanks for his Waffle House and his girl.

Twenty minutes later, Rhea happily sipped on her lemonade and coffee while Jey finished off the rest of their order. She’d had to tap out way before him, but the food was delicious. “You know this doesn’t count as you taking me to Waffle House.”

Jey scraped up the last pieces of hashbrowns in the box. “You saying…”

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to smile and spoil her teasing. “I’m definitely saying.”

“Yeet.”

Rhea laughed, shifting to stretch her right leg out as much as the small space would allow. “Jey?”

“Hmm?”

“You called me ‘baby.’”

Jey froze, his fork midair. “My bad. It slips out sometimes without me knowin’.”

“Hey.” She waited until he met her gaze. “I…” They both swallowed at the same time. “I liked it.”

His mouth moved around the air, his voice failing him.

Rhea stopped herself from covering his hand, too afraid it’d mean more or less. All she knew was that he’d called her baby, twice, and each time moths and butterflies danced in her stomach.

Jey’s mind fogged then cleared. “No pressure?”

“Yeet.”

“You can call me baby, too.”

Heat crept up the back of her neck. “We’ll see. What if I call you ‘boo?’”

Jey pointed his fork at her. “Call me that, too.”

Blowing out a tight breath, his lungs struggling to give it up, Jey admitted. “I wish it didn’t hurt so damn bad.”

“I know.” Rhea rolled to her side, pulling her knees up in the fetal position. “What do you want to do?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s okay if you want to see them.”

“I’d rather they leave me alone.”

“What about Jimmy?” Rhea didn’t want to impose, but she was furious on his behalf. Why did Jimmy choose now to show his face? Why not when his twin won his first singles title? From experience, reaching the top meant even more when loved ones were there. Jimmy should’ve been in the ring with Jey, not silent. Not waiting to crawl out of his hole when Roman was in trouble. Rhea wanted to strangle Jimmy and kick his ass.

“I dunno.”

“That’s okay, too.”

Jey moved on the floor, leaning the left side of his body into the bed so he could see her. “You look adorable.”

“Only you call me that.”

He tipped his head, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Let’s keep it that way, hmm?”

“Yeet.”

Rhea Ripley casually dropping his catchphrase like it’d always been part of her vernacular made him so damn happy. It didn’t help seeing her curled up on the bed, sleepy and cozy. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Nevermind.”

“Jey?” Rhea propped her chin on her arm, their eyes meeting for a second before he looked to the side of the bed. “Talk to me.”

“Rhea. I dunno.” He shook his head, not wanting to burden her with his problems. “Why didn’t he choose me?”

She couldn’t stand the sadness clouding his brown eyes. “Hey.” Without releasing his hands, Rhea shimmed and scooted, trying to maneuver herself down to the floor. “I don’t know.” She began, wiggling her body to mirror his. His lips lifted, just the barest hint, at her antics. “I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t choose you first.”

“Simp.” Jey whispered, half joking.

“Proud one.” Rhea smirked, eyeing his shirt. “You know. For being a bloody hideous shade of pink, this color makes your skin glow.”

Jey choked on a surprised laugh. “What now?”

She refused to blush again tonight. “You heard me.”

“Simp.” He teased, his neck warming around the neckline.

“What I say next may show how biased I am.”

His brows furrowed. “What you mean?”

“I wanted you in Judgment Day, just based on how you moved within your family. I knew you’d work well with us. Guess you’ve always been smarter than people give you credit for…”

“C’mon now.” Jey grouched.

“… you obviously sensed the impending disaster, or just knew that two of the members were bloody assholes. Anyway.” Rhea smiled, despite talking about her past. “After I came back from my injury, I wanted the guys to leave you alone. No one was allowed to touch you.” A slow smile started at his mouth, then sparkled in his eyes, making her heart beat faster. “Everything with Jimmy? Babe, it’s beyond my comprehension. I can’t relate to anyone not picking you.”

“Rhea.”

She cupped his chin, her thumbs brushing over the salt and pepper hair close to his bottom lip. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m here. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you miss him.”

Jey closed his eyes, the truth sitting in the moisture gathering behind his lids.

Rhea scratched at the underside of his jaw, admiring the way his lashes fluttered right before they opened and his eyes met hers. “It’s okay, you know?”

He nodded, unable to speak.

“You can be angry. It’s okay to move on and keep succeeding on your own.”

“Still hurts, tho’.”

She walked her fingers up the left side of his face, rubbing her thumb under his eye, not knowing the last time she felt this tender toward someone. “He’s your other half, baby.”

Jey’s eyes filled with tears. “Shit.” He sniffled, blinking rapidly to stop them from falling. “Shit.”

Rhea stayed quiet.

“Sorry.” Jey mumbled, sniffling again.

“You’re good.”

“I miss him like I lost a limb, but I can’t get mixed up wit’ the Bloodline.”

Rhea refused to let that happen. In fact, she would love to meet with Roman and show him her brand of brutality. “How about we take it one day at a time and see what their next move is?”

“Okay.” Jey sucked in a deep breath then slowly released it. Rhea didn’t look away, her presence exactly what he needed now. “Thank you.” His hands covered hers on his face, slowly sliding her right hand to his lips and pressing a kiss inside her palm. “I mean it.”

She opened her mouth to respond when his watch chirped between them. “Buzzkill.”

Jey turned his wrist over, glaring at the gadget. “Damn.”

“What?”

“It’s three already.”

Rhea sighed, pulling her hands away. “What time’s your flight?”

“Eight.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Why so early?”

Jey shrugged, lips turned down in a pout.

“Are you going to get any sleep?”

“Doubtful.”

Rhea didn’t want him to go. “I hate this part.” When reality came storming through their happy bubble, interrupting their limited time together.

Jey reached for her hand, lifting it up for another kiss, letting his lips stay longer than he ever had. “Least Monday is technically tomorrow.”

It didn’t help.

There was still thirty plus hours to live before he’d see her again. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Welcome.” Rhea rolled to her knees. Jey followed suit, using the mattress to push his tired frame to his feet. She winced as he moaned and groaned through it. “You good?”

“Stiff and my ass cheeks fell asleep.”

Rhea pressed her tongue into the inside of her cheek, but a little laugh still slipped out. “That’s exactly why I kept moving around.”

“Smart.” Jey said over his shoulder as he ambled over to the desk to slip his feet into his shoes. “Your flight with Priest?”

“Yeah. He’s meeting me for breakfast before we head to the airport.”

“Good.”

“I can’t believe you booked a flight for eight.” Rhea figured if she teased him, she’d feel less depressed that he was leaving.

“You’ll believe it when all my texts to you are mad faces and a bunch of sleepin’ emojis.”

“I’ll block you.”

“The hell you will.” Jey shot back, smirking at her. “Your ass is gonna be askin’ me at seven if I made it to the airport safe and sound.”

“The hell I will.”

He waggled his brows knowing she was lying through her teeth, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, his title still on the desk. “You gonna hug me goodbye?”

Rhea crossed her arms over her chest. “That excited to leave me?”

“Woman.” Jey closed the short distance between them, easing her arms apart to take one of her hands. “I’m ‘bout ready to have a cot sent up here. Now gimme a hug.”

She let him tug her into his arms, satisfied tucking her head under his chin. It wasn’t even a secret anymore that being held by him was her favorite place to be. “Promise you’ll text me when you get to your room.”

“I’m only a few floors up.”

“Promise.”

“I’ll text ya.” Jey hugged her tighter, counting to five, ten, fifteen, his head resting on hers. “Okay.” He whispered, forcing himself to step back. He smiled sadly before leaning forward and pecking her on the lips.

Rhea gasped.

Jey’s eyes widened in shock, his hand shooting up to his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

She copied him.

“I’m sorry.” Nervously, his hand passed over his face into his hair. “It jus’ happened.”

They stared at each other, breaths ragged, blood surging in their ears.

“I don’t…”

Rhea held her hands up, sensing the spiral about to happen in front of her. “It’s okay.”

“What?”

She smiled at him, her face glowing as the truth of the statement landed. “It’s okay, Jey. I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

His hand stilled in his hair. “What?”

Rhea reached forward, her fingers griping the bottom of his shirt. “C’mere.”

Jey’s gaze roamed all over her face, her lips, her eyes, back to her lips, then her eyes. “Yeah.” He stepped into her space and it was so natural and easy to meet her in the middle, letting their lips shyly, tentatively, and excitedly introduce themselves.

Sometime later, Jey said her name. Rhea’s mouth chased him, and he forgot what he was going to ask.

Rhea held his shirt tighter, her feet lifting her higher until his hands found purchase on her hips, holding her in place. She hummed in pleasure, her hands sliding up his back and into his hair. Jey practically purred in her arms and Rhea wanted to hear it again and again.

They kept their kisses soft, a series of exploratory pecks and longer closed-mouth presses as they learned the feel of each other, wanting only to live in this moment.

Jey gently nipped the fullness of her bottom lip. She smiled, pushing back and looking up at him shyly. He couldn’t resist placing a final kiss on her cheek.

“Damn.” They said in unison.

“Yeah.” Rhea added.

“Are you okay?”

Jey’s eyes were pools of dark chocolate. “More than.” Rhea couldn’t look away. How was he this beautiful?

“That was...”

“Is it cheesy to say perfect?”

Pride shot through his body like he’d been electrocuted. “Not when it’s me you talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Oh?” Rhea smirked. “I meant the kiss, Yeetman.”

Jey grinned. “I read between those lines.”

“Read a lot of fiction, do ya?”

He adjusted his backpack, looking her up and down, not missing the way she squirmed under his scrutiny. “Only the kind you writin’.”

Rhea’s face darkened. “Jey?” She purposely stared at his mouth while sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. “I think we should kiss again.”

“Yeah.” Jey wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her against his chest, swooping down to kiss her. This time harder. Rhea sighed into his mouth and his knees nearly gave out. “Mmm.” He kissed her again, then tore himself away, walking backwards, needing to put space between them. “I gotta go.”

Face flushed, mouth swollen, head scrambled, Rhea only nodded at him.

“I’ll text you, aight?”

“Okay.”

He backed up to the desk, grabbed his belt, almost tripping over his feet on the way to the door.

Jey made it halfway down the hallway before he did a full 180 and booked it back to her room. No hesitation, no fear, just the need to kiss her again. He only knocked once, his hand raised to knock again, when the door pulled open and Rhea’s gorgeous face greeted him.

“I…” Jey stuttered.

“Me too.” Rhea said, and then she was in his arms, her hands clasped behind his neck, their lips and teeth knocking together as he backed her into the room. Rhea giggled, happier than she’d been in months— possibly ever.

Monday, October 7, 2024

St. Louis, MO

Damian was acting all kinds of creepy. No smile or “wepa!” could make Jey shake the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up whenever they crossed paths. Which was every damn time Jey peeked his head out of the locker room. Priest managed to be there, with no apparent reason other than to spook Jey.

“You good, uce?” He’d asked, only to have Priest smirk at him and walk away. Was he practicing for Halloween and forgot to inform him? Jey shook it off.

Until he’d stepped out of the men’s room and found Damian lurking in the hallway, his left shoulder against the wall, phone in his hands. He didn’t look up or acknowledge Jey’s existence. Creepy as shit. Jey’d shoved his hands in his pockets and bolted to a more populated area.

Later, in catering, Jey nearly spit his coffee across the room when he met Priest’s glare. The other man’s lips twitching as he clocked the apprehension painted all over Jey’s face. He then lifted his cup up in a silent salute. Jey’s coffee turned bitter in his mouth, his chair screeching loudly on the floor as he jumped up, no longer hungry.

Nah. Something wasn’t right.

Priest was losing it, because it sure wasn’t Jey.

On his way back to the locker room, totally not to hide, he ran into Rhea walking the other direction. She slowed her pace, her bright smile taking his breath hostage. When they neared, she held her hand out, slipping him a folded piece of paper, then continued walking away. Jey turned, watching her hips sway until she disappeared out of sight. Swallowing, he looked down at his hands and unfolded the torn note.

Room 305

The End

🌴 Part of the Hold Me Gently connected universe!

note ⁀➷ this song came on when I was writing the milkshake flashback, and I thought it was fitting ♫︎♥︎

A/N: uhmmmm definitely got carried away here. this started off as a completely different fic ngl and it spiraled into this. there might be a follow up this. as always may contain grammatical and spelling errors. i am dyslexic and no way could i proofreading this completely 😭 sorry in advance 🫶🏽 i hope you like it!!! comments, requests, and general feedback is always welcome!!! think about making a taglist too let me know if you'd be interested and ill make a post!! ANYWAYS ENOUGH TALKING ENJOYING MWAH 💋

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first time you caught him cheating you couldn't eat, you couldn't sleep. It felt like you were crying for seven days and seven nights straight. Everyone was worried about you, his dad was even worried about you.

His dad, Jimmy, was a good man. That was evident to anyone and everyone who knew him. He was the picture perfect model of what a man is supposed to do. He took care of his kids, provided for his family, was a pillar on their community, he was everything his son wasn't. When Jimmy found out his son cheated on you he was livid. He immediately dropped what he was doing at home and went over to the apartment to check on you. He didn't make excuses for his son. He didn't try to convince you to stay with his son. Hell he actually tried to convince you to leave his ass but you felt like the love you had for him could get you two past this. Jimmy just sighed and said he would support you. You thanked him and he offered his number to you just incase you needed it. It was overdue really. At that point you had been with his son for two years. It felt normal to have his father's number.

At first Jimmy would reach out to just check on you and the status of your relationship with his son, making sure he was begging for the forgiveness he didn't deserve. Those were Jimmy's exact words, not yours. Then it turned into you reaching out for help with things around the house because your boyfriend wasn't any help. Jimmy would come over at the drop of a dime to help you. He was retired so he had nothing but time on his hands. That's how the two of you ended up having weekly meet ups for lunch every Friday since that was your day off. It was fun getting to know the stories about your boyfriend and his family that he didn't share with you.

It was fun hanging out with Jimmy despite there being fourteen years between the two of you. He was so lively and youthful, it was hard to believe he was forty. He reminded you so much of how your boyfriend was in the beginning of your relationship, goofy, doting, attentive, respectful and charming. On top of that he was a very attractive man, anyone with eyes could confirm that. When your mother first met him she swore he was a model. You could see why she thought that. He was tall, a little less that a foot taller than you. The most beautiful bronze skin adorned with cultural tribal tattoos on his arms, chest and neck. His tattoos are problem your favorite things about the older man. You loved how proud he was of his culture and how he wore his tattoos with pride.

You replay the night Jimmy came over when you told him his son never came home in your head over more than you'd like. Jimmy and you sat on the loveseat facing each other and you asked about his tattoos for the first time. Jimmy asked if you wanted to see them up close and you nodded your head enthusiastically. He chuckled at you and took his shirt off, throwing it on the floor next to him. Jimmy took her hand and guided her fingers along his ink as he explained what they meant to her. Jimmy noticed that you had a few tattoos yourself and asked you to explain them too if you were comfortable. And you did. You had a few on you arms that were visible and easy to explain. You had a few on your legs that you explain. His fingers tracing over the ink on your skin just like yours did moments prior. Goosebumps formed on your skin as he continued to study the art on you body. His eyes locked on the ink peaking over your shoulder and he asked quietly if he could see. You swallowed hard before turning around and sitting right in front of him, back facing him. You grabbed the bottom him of your shirt and pulled it over your head, making sure you held it over your chest to cover your breast from the man behind you. He raised his fingers carefully, asking if it was okay to touch. You nodded your head and you jolted under the feeling of his fingertips on your back. You took deep breaths as his finger grazed along your skin. You slowly and carefully explain the tattoo to him and he listened intently, breathing matching yours.

There was a shift in the room where the two of you sat. Each of you felt it. The air was tense, both of you radiating heat off your bodies. It was if the both of you were on a tightrope threatening to fall over. His hand, now on your shoulder, made it's way to under your chin. His fingers holding it gently. He made you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. You looked at him with big, curious eyes. Jimmy was looking down at you, he had a certain glint in his eyes that you could quite put your finger on what it meant. He started to lean in closer and you just let him. Your eyes instinctively shut and Jimmy took that as you giving him the green light. He rested his forehead against yours, his lips brushed against yours. Your heart was beating so hard you felt like it was going to jump out. You waited for him to finally close the gap between you two but the sound of his phone ringing stopped his movements. He cursed and pulled away from you.

You let out a shaky breath and quickly slipped your shirt back. You ran your hands over your face and slouched into the couch. You can't believe you almost kiss your boyfriends dad. You can't believe all of just happen. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why didn't you feel bad about it?

You watched Jimmy pace around your coffee table as he talked on the phone. From what you heard on the phone you could only assume he was talking to your boyfriend. You heard Jimmy say goodbye and he turned to face you.

"I have to go mamas." He sighed grabbing his shirt and slipping it over his head

"Is everything okay?" You asked pushing yourself off the couch and walking over to him

"Everything is all good." He smiled down at you, placing a hand on your waist, pulling you close. "My son is on his way home though."

You rolled you eyes at the noticed.

"Don't be like that." Jimmy chuckled

"Just surprised he remembered where home was." you said sarcastically

Jimmy brought his free hand up to you face, cupping your cheek in his hand. "Why don't you leave him?"

"I love him." You replied like second nature

"I don't think you do." Jimmy countered, eyes raking over your face as if he was trying to remember every detail. "You have love for him no doubt but you don't love that boy."

"You don't know what you are talking about."

"I might not." he shrugged removing his hands from your body.

You tried to hide the fact that you hated when he wasn't touching you know that you know how his hands feel on your skin. You stood there watching him put his hoodie back on and gather his things.

"Walk me to the door." He licked his lips

You nodded you head and stepped over to him. He drapped his arm across your shoulders, holding you close as the two of you made your way to your front door. Jimmy pulled you into a tight hug. Your hands gripped onto his hoodie tight as he held you. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head before the both of you parted. He told you to text him when you are free next and you promised to do so. And that's how it started.

After that night, the two of you got closer than ever. You two were always texting or always on call. He would visit you at work, bring you lunch under the excuse of he was in the area. You two kept up your Friday lunches expected it didn't stop at just lunch. Jimmy would always go back with you to the apartment to spend the day with you since his son would be gone until late into the night. The night would consist of you two just talking and watching movies. A few weeks ago you put your boyfriend's Playstation he never uses into the living room because Jimmy liked to play the game while you braided his hair. Your boyfriend never questioned why his dad was over his place so much or why he sitting on the floor in between your legs getting his scalped massaged by you when he came home from God knows where.

You just think he doesn't care anymore. You know he is still stepping out on you. You can tell by the makeup marks on his clothes, the sudden secrecy when it came to his phone and location sharing, and the smell. God he reeked every time he came home. He smelled like dollar store perfume and it made you have a headache every time he was near.

Jimmy wanted you to leave his son, selfish reasons or not. He hated to someone like you get treated the his son has been treating you. He has talked to his son many time and threatened him way more. He constantly reminded his son how big of a catch you were and how he was fucking stupid to be doing the things he do. He told his son every day that if he doesn't want to love you properly to let you go so someone could.

You often wish that you boyfriend acted more like his dad. Jimmy was playing the role of a boyfriend better than your actual boyfriend was. You found yourself craving Jimmy more and more. You wanted to be with him all the time. You started doing things to get his attention more and more. You started doing more for him, things you would normally do for your boyfriend, you started doing for him. You wanted to be with him all the time, Friday wasn't doing it for you anymore so when your boyfriend told you that he wanted to take you out Friday you felt like the world was ending.

You agreed reluctantly and your boyfriend was happy that the two of you finally can go on a date and get a sense of normalcy back in your relationship. You smiled at him forcefully as he explain how he got a reservation at this restaurant downtown that was extremely hard to get. You didn't have the heart to tell him that actually already been with Jimmy and you hated it. He was making effort finally and you'll be damned if you do anything to mess it up so you decided to sneam off to the bed room to call Jimmy and let him know you can't see him.

"Hey baby, you on your way?" Jimmy questioned after he picked up on the first ring

"No," you sighed "He wants to take me on a date tonight."

"Oh word? That's nice I guess." Jimmy replied

"I don't wanna go." You whined "He's taking me to that place on 5th that you took me to a couple weeks ago."

"The place that made you sick?"

"Yes! Jimmy save me please." You whined into the phone again

Jimmy chuckled into the phone. "Just tell him the truth."

"Are you crazy?!"

"Do you want your stomach to hurt or not?"

"I'll bring stomach medicine." you rolled your eyes as you laid down on you bed

You closed your eyes as you listened to Jimmy moving around on the other side of the phone. Knowing he was there brought a sense of comfort to you, a feeling that you never once experienced from your boyfriend.

"Jimmy?" you called out

"Yeah?" he responded

"I wanna see you." you confessed

"Come see me then." He replied "Tell him you forgot you had plans already with one of your friends."

"He's going to know I am lying." You kissed your teeth

"Your one lie to his thousands." Jimmy scoffed "He deserves being lied to."

"Jimmy." You warned

"I'm sorry. I just hate how he treats you." He sighed.

"I know you do. That's why you treat me so well."

"You deserve to be treated well. You deserve everything and more. I can give that to you." He replied "I don't know how he turned into such a piece of shit. I didn't raise him like that."

"It's not your fault."

The two of you stayed on the phone until it was time for you to get ready and go on the date with your boyfriend. You got dressed and making sure to grab your stomach medicine before heading out with your boyfriend.

"Are you sure that is appropriate for the restaurant?" he asked as the both of you got in the car

"I promise you my outfit is fine." You rolled your eyes

Your boyfriend just took a deep breath and started the car. The drive to the restaurant wasn't bad. It was only thirty minutes, slight traffic, nothing too bad. He parked the car and the both of you got out and headed inside. You two were seated very quickly. Your waitress came over to your table and you immediately knew what type of evening this was going to be. The waitress paid you no attention and your boyfriend allowed that. She purposely didn't ask you what you wanted to drink or what you wanted to order. She stayed flirting with your boyfriend and he flirted back. You just watched in awe that this was happening in front of you. You quietly started to gather you things and stood up. Your boyfriend looked up at you confused as to where you were going.

"Do not come home tonight." You said calmly. "Matter of fact, I'm changing the locks come morning. You and me are done."

"Baby-"

"I don't want to hear it. You have done nothing but disrespect me all night and the duration of our relationship. We are done." You said before storming out of the restaurant and pulling your phone out to get an uber

Your uber arrived in about three minutes. It was a quick drive to you apartment. You got out the uber and thanked the driver quickly before marching inside and heading straight to the bedroom. You grabbed all of your boyfriend's things and shoved them in trash bags and began to throw his belongs over the balcony and onto the sidewalk underneath until there was nothing left of his shirt in your place.

You went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and popped it open as you sat on top of the counter of the kitchen island. You grabbed your phone out of your purse that you threw on the counter when you first walked in and texted Jimmy.

I broke up with your son.

I threw all his things out and told him not to come back.

Big Jim: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

I'm proud of you.

Come over please?

Big Jim: Otw

You sat on the counter sipping on the bottle of wine until you heard your front door open. You knew it wasn't your boyfriend, well ex boyfriend, walking through the door. He had more sense than that.

"Baby?" he called out

"Kitchen!"

You heard his steps from down the hallway leading up to you. You turned so you could watch him walk up to you. Jimmy laid his eyes on you and God did he like what he saw.

"You look good ma." he said licking his lips

"At least somebody appreciates my outfit." you pouted

Jimmy walked over to you and pushed your knees apart so he could stand in between your legs. He placed his hands on your waist and you brought your arms up and around his neck. Jimmy rested his forehead against yours and pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose making you giggle.

"How you feelin?" He asked squeezing your hips gently

"Like I should have did that a long time ago."

"You should have but at least it's done now." Jimmy said pressing a kiss to your forehead. "So now what?"

You tilted your head, eye flickering up and down from his eyes to his lips. It has been months since that night the two of you sat on the couch and traced each others tattoos. Months since the two of you almost shared that first kiss. You have spent all this time wondering how his lips would feel on yours. All this time wondering if he would be the one who could finally make you feel good, fuck you good, finally be the one to make you cum.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Jimmy pushed as he rubbed up and down your sides, licking his lips as he watched you watch his lips

"I wish I met you first." You confessed

"You got me now." Jimmy said. "Doesn't matter who had you first because I am here now. Not him, me."

"I should be sad," You said fingernails scratching the back of Jimmy's neck making his eyes shut and roll back in contentment. "but I can't feel anything other than how badly I want you."

Jimmy's eyes opened slowly, now darker and filed with that same glint from that night months ago. "Baby..." he groaned pulling your body closer to his. Your ass almost off the counter, legs wrapping around his waist.

"You told me you can give me better." You started "I haven't been fucked good since before your son." You exposed as you ran your toe of your boot down his leg and back up slowly causing a shiver to run through his body.

"That's a shame." He breathed hands sliding down to rest on your ass. "You had to be stuck with a man who couldn't deliver what you need. You poor baby." he said tilting his head to the side bringing his lips closer to yours

"If only I had a daddy who could give me what I need right now." You said against his lips

"Hmm if only." He said finally pressing his lips against yours

Your body sank into his as he kissed you you deeper. His hands rubbing and squeezing on you ass tightly as you dug you still heeled cover heel into his back making him press against you harder. Jimmy raised his hand and brought it down on you right ass cheek. You gasped against his lip and he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Kissing Jimmy was an experienced you couldn't put into words. You haven't been kissed like this in you don't know how long. Jimmy kisses you as if he wants to consume you and you would let him. Jimmy pulled off your lips and kissed along your jaw. You moaned as he made his way down you neck.

"Bed." You panted "Bed now please?"

Jimmy nodded and lifted you off the counter and carried you to the bedroom you shared once with his son and laid you down on it gently. He stood up straight and you swallowed hard propping yourself up on your elbows. Jimmy grabbed the bottom of his shirt and slowly lifted it up. You felt a throbbing sensation in between your legs and squeezed your thighs together in hopes for some kind of stimulation as you watch Jimmy pull the shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. Jimmy grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed and helped you put of your boots.

"C'mere."

You quickly got up from laying on the bed and crawled over to him, kneeling in front of him. He cupped your face in his hand and you leaned into his hand, turning your face a little to press a soft kiss to the inside of his palm.

"You gone be good for me?" He questioned looking down at you.

You nodded your head yes as you looked up at him.

"Use your words." he said thumb tracing over your bottom lip

"I'll be good for you." You breathed

"Good girl." He said pushing his thumb into your mouth

You accept the intrusion without hesitation. You maintained eye contact with Jimmy and you gave his thumb a good suck. Jimmy watched you hungrily as you swirled your tongue around his digit. Jimmy was gonna have fun breaking you and building you up again but that is for another time. Tonight, his focus making you feel good and fucked you the way you deserved to be fucked. He pulled his thumb out of you mouth with a loud pop.

"Strip."

And you did. You didn't even bother with making a show of it, you just quickly pulled your dress over head and sat there waiting for him to say what he wants to do next. Jimmy just looked down at you before he looked down at himself. Then he looked back up at you and raised and eyebrow at you. You instantly knew what he meant by that.

You grabbed the waistband of his jeans and unbuttoned them. You went to grab the zipper with your fingers but last minute decided otherwise. You scooted back just a tiny hit so you could be on all fours. Jimmy watch you with anticipation building up as you licked a long stripe over his denim covered erection. Jimmy hissed at the sight and you felt good, really good frol the reaction. You brought your mouth to the jean zipper and grabbed it between your teeth, pulling it down slowly with your mouth.

"Fuck." he groaned as you released the zipper from your teeth and pulled his pants down, looking up at him, pressing wet kisses along the length of his erection underneath his boxers. Normally Jimmy would rush through the teasing but he is enjoying the way you back is arching for him, the view of your ass swallowing the thong between your cheeks was one he wasn't quite ready to get rid off.

You grabbed the waistband of his boxers between your teeth and pulled them down as well with some help from your hands. His erection springing up againsg his stomach, almost smacking you in the face. You didn't wait for him to say anything or give any type of permission before you took his head in your mouth.

"Shit." He hissed

You lowered your mouth taking as much as you can of him in your mouth, hallowing your cheeks around him making him throw his head back in pleasure. You bobbed your head up and down, taking more and more of him until you felt him penatrate your throat, nose nestled against his skin. You looked up at him. Jimmy's hair that was once in a neat bun now cascade down and over his face as he looked down at you. Chest rising and falling quickly showing just how much you were affecting him. You maintained that eye contact as you grabbed his hips and began to move them back and forth slightly until Jimmy got what you were trying to tell him without pulling off his dick and he did quickly. He grabbed you head in his hands gently as he pulled halfway out of your mouth and slowly pushed back inside you. He fucked into your mouth with a slow drag a few time to get you used to the feeling of his dick fucking into your mouth before he began to speed up his thrusts.

"God you feel so fuckin good baby. Taking me so well." He praised as he fucked relentlessly into your mouth. "Fucking son is an idiot losing a mouth this good. Fuuuuck, I wanna fuck this mouth forever."

You moaned around his shaft as you began to feel yourself leaking down your thighs. You brought a hand down and in between your legs. You pushed the thin fabric that was completely soaked from you pussy aside and started to rub your pussy finally giving it some type of relief. Jimmy took your head and held it down on his dick for a quick moment before pulling out of your mouth completely. You coughed trying to catch your breath as spit and his precum trailed down your face. Jimmy grabbed you by the neck, not putting any pressure on it, just a firm grasp and lower his head head down to capture your lips with his again. The kiss was much more aggressive, the need and want from both of you radiating off both of you. You brought yourself up right, back onto your knees and Jimmy again started to kiss down your neck and then down your chest on over your lace covered tiddies. You brought a hand up and held the back of his head, not really pushing b his head deeper into your breast but just resting there. You brought your free hand behind your back and unclasped you bra and let it slip off that arm giving Jimmy free acess tl your breast. He immediately latched his mouth onto you left nipple, sucking it roughly causing you to moan loudly and pull at the hairs tangled beneath you fingers. He brought a hand up to your right breast and took a handful of your tiddie in it, squeezing it and rubbing on your nipple. His other hand found it's way in between your legs.

"D-daddy." You stuttered as his large hand cupped your wet pussy

He pushed the soaked fabric out of his way the same way you did and without hesitation slipped his index finger into your heat. Your back arched as you gasped, pushing you closer to Jimmy's body. Jimmy pulled off your bruising tiddie and rested his forehead against yours, breathing in you pants and moans as he slipped another finger into your pussy, thrusting in and out as his thumb rub circles on your throbbing clit. You quickly felt your first orgasm of the night approaching. Jimmy seen it all over your face. The way you mouth hung open, the way you grabbed a hold of his arm digging your nails into his skin, the strangled moans as your hips began to move on their own chasing that orgasm. Jimmy continued to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy until you buried your face in his neck, digging your nails into his arm as your orgasm finally took over you. Jimmy used his other hand to hold your head in place in the crook of your neck as he fingered you through your orgasm, whispering sweet praise to you as your body shook from his doing.

Once you came down from your orgasm Jimmy slowed his fingers in you until he stopped completely. He pulled his dripping fingers out and brought them up to his mouth. He sucked and licked them clean with enthusiasm as you collapse back onto the bed.

Jimmy looked down at you and smiled. "You good?"

"Great actually." You smiled deliriously.

"Good." Jimmy said positioning himself in between your legs. "I wanna keep making you feel great." he said grabbing his erection and tapping the tip against your entrance. Jimmy leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. "Can daddy make you feel better?"

"Please."

Jimmy pressed his lips against yours as he slowly pushed into your wet pussy. You gasped into the kiss arms going under his and reaching up to his shoulders holding him close as he bottomed out. Jimmy didn't move for a few moments, allowing you to adjust to his length and girth knowing you haven't taken someone his size for awhile. He kissed you deeply as one of his hands slid underneath your bottom, allowing him to get a firm hold of your ass.

"Fuck me please." You moaned against his lips

"Tell me how you want it baby. Tell daddy how you want him to fuck you." Jimmy said pressing kisses along your shoulder as he slowly slid out of you

"Deep." You panted "So fucking deep daddy I wanna feel you in my tummy."

"Yeah?" Jimmy chuckled "Daddy got you then. Gone make you feel it. And you better take it. Take all of it."

Jimmy snapped his hips and slammed his dick into your heat. Your back arched of the bed as you feel him inside you. Jimmy pumped in and out of your wet pussy, shallowly, making sure you don't feel empty for a second. Your finger clawed and scratched at his back as you whimpered into his mouth. The sound of his skin hitting against yours filled the room. Jimmy held you close as he fucked in and out of you.

"You don't know how long I have wanted to be like this with you." Jimmy confessed as his thrust began to become harder and faster. "Every time I looked at my son with you it pissed me off." He kept going. "You should have been mines. You. Are. Mines." He punctuated his words with hard thrust into your creamy pussy

You moaned a wave of wetness coming out of your pussy as Jimmy's possessiveness was sending you closer and closer to your climax again.

"Tell me, tell me who this pussy belong to." Jimmy said grabbing your chin roughly and making you look him

"You," You moaned. "It belongs to you daddy. 's all yours."

Jimmy groaned and crashed his lips on yours. Hand holding your hips down as he fucked into you relentlessly. Your headboard slamming against the wall, mattress squeaking underneath your bodies. The two of you sliding higher and higher up the bed from the force he is fucking into you with. Jimmy grabbed onto the headboard and lifted his body off of you, using the bedframe as leverage to drill even deeper into you pussy. You withered underneath him, hands reaching up to push on his torso as if you were trying to get him off of you because it was becoming too much. Jimmy let out an actual snarled when he noticed you trying to run from him fucking you. He let go of the headboard so he could pull his legs from around his waist. He grabbed your ankles and folded your legs up until you ankles were by you head.

"I told you to take it all. Ain't no runnin." Jimmy grunted

"Fuck daddy too deep." You cried.

"Take it." He chanted every thrust being marked by him telling you to take it.

His balls smacked against you soaked ass. The bedding underneath you completely drenched from the fluids from the both of you. You felt the familiar tightness build up in you stomach and Jimmy's thrust began to get a bit sloppy. He was more vocal now, cursing and grunting as he continued to fuck into you.

"Gonna cum." You gasped as you felt yourself tighten around Jimmy's dick

Jimmy let go of your legs allowing you to return them to their spot around his waist. He leaned over you against, capturing your lips with his, pushing his tongue in your mouth quickly setting the messy tone of the kiss and his hips gave one finally snap. Jimmy moaned in your mouth as he released inside of you. Your legs wrapped around him in a vice grip as you shook underneath him as the most intense orgasm you have ever had. You sobbed into Jimmy's mouth as he continued to fuck his cum into you. Jimmy's hand stroked up and down your thigh as he slowed his thrust into you cum filled pussy. His kiss slowly become softer as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled his lips off of you before he started to pepper kisses all over your face. You let out a soft and airy laugh as he kissed all over your face. He sighed and rolled off of you carefully making sure he didn't slide out of you. He made sure he was still nestled deep in your pussy, making sure not a drop of his cum escaped out of you.

"You okay?" He asked brushing the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead back

" 'm perfect." you slurred eyes closing in bliss

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Jimmy questioned stroking you cheek softly

"No. You were amazing daddy. Thank you." you said nestling closer to him if that was even possible

Jimmy pressed a kiss to your forehead and tucked your face under his chin. "Don't go to sleep, I gotta clean you."

"Don't want you to." You whined. "Wanna stay full."

"Yeah?" Jimmy asked pulling his head back slightly to look down at you.

You nodded you head yes and he just shrugged and tucked you back under his chin.

"Alright then," He chuckled. "Go on and go to sleep."

Jey had been unbearable since the win.

That title hadn’t left his sight– not even at home. He carried it from the gym to the kitchen like it was a second skin, slinging it over his shoulder when he filled up your water bottle like he was doing you a favor by just being there. Shirt off. Chain on. Sweat still glistening along his chest as he grinned at you like he was the one running the house.

Like the gold made him invincible.

Like you were the prize he already claimed. 

At first, you let it slide. That post-victory glow? Fine. He earned it. He bled for it. You were gonna let him have his moment. 

But that was four days ago.

And now it was the little things– the ones that build, the ones that bite.

You asked him to turn his music down when he was working out, and he didn’t. You reminded him not to leave his belt on the table, and he raised his brows like “who gon’ check me?” He grabbed your ass while you were talking on the phone for work. Cut you off mid-sentence twice during dinner. Stood too close when you told him to wait.

Worse than all of it though, was the grin he wore when you called him out on it.

That cocky smile like he knew you’d forgive him. Like he was already picturing you on your knees, forgiveness dripping from your mouth, begging to make him feel good because “that’s what you always do, baby.” 

Except tonight? Tonight, you were done. You felt it in your chest before you even spoke.

You were standing by the sink, back to him, scrubbing the edges of your water bottle, like it was the only thing in the world worth paying attention to. The house was quiet except for the soft rhythm of your hands against plastic and the hum of the refrigerator.

He was leaned against the counter in those low-slung gray shorts– the thin, drawstring kind he knew you liked. Chain still on. Skin damp from a shower, glistening just enough to look like effort. The belt– the newly-won, hard-fought, shiny fucking tag title belt– was perched right next to him on the counter like a centerpiece, gleaming under the recessed light like it belonged in the Louvre.

You he knew it. You could feel him basking in the silence. His muscles flexed when he stretched his arms behind his head, elbows wide, like he was airing himself out. Like that gold had somehow given him permission to be ten times louder, slower, cockier.

His voice was warm when it finally came. Smooth. Coated in that kind of sweet drawl he dipped into when he wanted something– when he thought all he had to do was ask the right way.

“You really ain’t gonna talk to me all night?”

You hummed, soft and dismissive.

His teach clicked together gently like he was biting a smile. “Damn,” he laughed. “Still got an attitude?”

You didn’t turn around.But your grip on the towel tightened just slightly, your thumb pausing at the rim of the bottle’s lid. You stared down at the sink and breathed once through your nose. He didn’t notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. 

“You win one new title,” you murmured, “and forget how to act.”

There was a pause behind you. A shift in his weight. Then—

“Girl, what?”

He said it like a joke. Like he didn’t even need to defend himself, because you had to be teasing. You set the bottle down slowly. Towel folded. Hands braced on the counter. You weren’t mad. You weren’t yelling. You hadn’t even raised your voice. Because you weren’t here to fight with him. You were just tired.

“You know I ain’t forget nothin’,” he said behind you, stepping a little closer. “I’m just sayin’, you been actin’ real uptight lately. Thought maybe I could help with that.” He said it like he was the solution to your shitty mood. Like he thought his dick was the cure. And on any other day? Yeah, maybe it would be. But today wasn’t that day.

You felt him now, just behind you. His heat pressed close, not quite touching. One hand hovered near your waist, not bold enough to grip you yet, but itching to. His breath was warm over your shoulder. 

“Lemme take care of you,” he murmured, soft. Sugary.

And that’s what did it. You picked up the towel again. Sat it next to the bottle. Hands calm. Body calm. Voice calm. Then you turned around. And the second he saw your face—his mouth shut. Because this wasn’t your teasing expression. This wasn’t your flirt. This wasn’t even your warning look. This was stillness. This was when the weather changes and the birds go quiet. This is when everything inside him says you’ve gone too far.

“I’ve been acting uptight?” you asked, voice low. Flat. No bite. Just disappointment.

He lifted his chin a little, tried to meet you halfway with bravado that didn’t quite land. “I ain’t mean it like that.”

“No?” You stepped forward once. One slow step into his space. “Then how did you mean it?” He didn’t answer. His lips twitched like he was reaching for charm that didn't want to come. He shifted back slightly, unconsciously. Your gaze dropped to the belt on the counter— angled just right to reflect the light. You looked back up.

“You’ve been walking around this house like that belt makes you royalty.”

He laughed, but it was shaky now. “Maybe it does.”

“Oh?” Your head tilted. You took another step. “You think gold around your waist makes you the boss of me?”

His breath caught. He faltered, just for a second.

“That’s not what I said.”

His voice was smaller now. Still shaped like defense, but softer. Like maybe he was realizing the words he was choosing didn't carry weight in this room anymore. Not with you standing there like that. You didn’t let him recover.

“It’s what you act like.”

He opened his mouth, ready to argue. Maybe to deny it, maybe to plead. But you didn’t give him space to speak. You kept going. Firm. Calm. Lethal.

“You ignore what I say.”

Your words cut slow.

“You touch what’s mine without asking.”

His eyes dipped.

“You run your mouth in front of people like you don’t belong to me.”

That one landed. Hard.

He shifted on his feet, jaw tight, something flickering behind his eyes that looked suspiciously like shame. You paused. Let it settle. Let him feel every word fall like weight on his chest. Then, softer, deadlier, you asked, “Do you still belong to me?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. His gaze flickered like he didn't know where to look. His throat worked hard around the answer. And when it came, it was quiet. Barely a whisper.

“You know I do.”

You nodded once.

“Then show me.”

He hesitated.

That was the moment. Right there. Where he realized this wasn’t going to be fixed with a kiss and a couple yes ma’ams. That tonight wasn’t about you getting off— it was gonna be about him getting put back where he belonged.

Your voice sharpened. Cut clean.

“Now.”

His shoulders twitched, like he wasn’t expecting the command to hit so hard. Like it rattled something deep in him. And then he moved. Not fast. Not confident. Just… deliberate, and careful.

Jey followed you down the hallway without a word. His bare feet were heavy against the floor— each step deliberate, cautious, like he was trying not to make the moment worse by breathing too loud. You didn’t look back. You didn’t tell him to hurry. You didn’t say a thing. You just left the bedroom door open and waited.

When he stepped inside, he was quiet. He felt as if he had just walked into a room where something sacred was about to happen, or something dangerous. The air shifted behind him. Still. Heavy.

The belt was still in his hands. But it was different now.

It wasn’t tossed over his shoulder like he was about to hit a pose for the camera. Wasn’t dragging off his hip like something he forgot to take off. No. Now he was holding it to his chest— tight. Not cradling it like it was precious. He was clutching it like it was armor.

Like it might save him.

Like it meant something.

He hovered near the wall, just inside the room. Didn’t step further. Didn’t sit down. His fingers curled around the leather strap like it was a part of him. His arms folded across it, gold plate pressed flat to his chest like a confession he didn’t know how to say out loud.

And you thought, maybe he was scared you would take it from him.

And maybe you would.

You crossed the room slowly, nothing in your posture rushed or reactive. Just steady. In control. You faced the dresser, ran your fingers across the smooth wooden top— but you didn’t open it. Not yet. Not until he knew why he was in here.

When you turned to face him, he didn’t look at you. He was looking down at the belt. Then up at you. Then back again. Like maybe it held the right words. Like maybe if he looked long enough, it would explain everything he did wrong for him. Maybe if he held it tight enough, you wouldn’t say what you were about to say.

But you did.

You stepped forward. Just one step. He straightened instantly— like instinct, like his spine remembers submission even if his ego didn’t.

You tilted your head, voice soft but sharpened at the edge. Like velvet with a knife tucked inside.

“You really thought that made you a boss?”

He looked up.

And for the first time in days, you saw something real flicker behind those long lashes— hesitation. Not defiance. Not mischief. Something smaller. Something shakier.

His big brown eyes widened just slightly, caught somewhere between shame and desperation. And something in him wanted to argue. You could see it start to rise in his chest, then falter.

“This… this do mean something,” he said, quietly. Not snappy. Not smug. Like he needed it to be true. “I earned this.”

You nod once. That much, you’ll give him.

“You did,” you said. “You earned that title. You fought for it. Bled for it. Got your hand raised on national TV. You made your family proud.”

His jaw ticked. Chest rising shallow.

“But…”

Your voice dipped, softened.

“…you didn’t earn me this week.”

That hit.

You watched it happen— how the words sank into him like a stone through water. His lips parted, but nothing came out. Just breath. Just this dumbfounded ache that cracked right through his chest and spilled across his face.

He stared at you like you just pulled the rug out from under everything he had been clinging to.

And you didn’t stop.

“You walked around this house like that belt made you untouchable,” you said, voice low and steady. “Like it meant you didn’t have to listen. Like it gave you permission to forget who you belong to.”

He didn’t speak. He just clutched the belt tighter. Knuckles pale. Shoulders stiff. Face unreadable, but his mouth trembled when he exhaled.

“I thought this meant I was a champ,” he said finally.

And it wasn’t defiant anymore.

It was small. Quiet. Like he was realizing— right here, right now— that he got it wrong.

“That just makes you a man with a belt,” you murmured.

You stepped closer.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“Being mine?” you said, eyes locked to his. “Earning me? That’s the part you forgot how to do.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to speak. Maybe to argue. Maybe to plead. But the words died behind clenched teeth. His jaw tightened hard enough that the muscle jumped, and for one fleeting second, his hands went slack.

The belt dipped. Just slightly. Just enough for you to see the doubt creep in. But then he gripped it again. Tight. Like if he just held it hard enough, if he just kept it close, it would mean what it used to mean. It would still make him important here.

It didn’t.

You stepped in, quiet and smooth, until the space between you was gone. And then, softly, you reach up. You didn’t snatch it. You didn’t even try to take it. Your fingertips drifted along the top edge of the gold faceplate, slow and featherlight. Just touching. Just tracing the heat of it. The weight. The outline where his chest rose and fell too fast beneath it. You weren’t feeling the belt. You were feeling him. 

“You want this to matter in this room?” you whispered. His breath hitched. You leaned in, close enough that your lips nearly brushed the edge of his skin.

“Then learn how to wear it without acting like it makes you untouchable.”

He blinked hard, eyes flicking away like it physically stung. His throat worked visibly. Shoulders tense. You watched the internal war break loose right there under his skin. He didn’t know what to do.

Drop the belt? Offer it to you? Beg you to strip it from him like punishment?

He shifted on his feet, jaw tight, fingers flexing over the leather like it was burning him. Like he was trying to figure out how to make it right again. How to prove he was still worthy– not of the title, but of you.

You smiled. Slow. Indulgent. Knowing. Then you took a single step back and nodded toward the bed.

“Set it down,” you said, firmly now. “Neatly.”

He hesitated. Just a blink of a pause. One last breath held in his chest like pride might still save him. But it didn’t. So he obeyed. Of course he did.

He moved toward the bed slowly, reverently, as if his legs were carrying shame and not muscle. He lowered the belt with both hands. Both, like he was offering something sacred, and placed it right at the edge of the mattress.

Flat. Centered. Perfect.

His hands hovered a second too long. His fingers ghosting over the nameplate like he was still trying to convince himself that it meant something.

And it did. Just not tonight. Not compared to you.

You let the silence stretch after he set the belt down. Long enough for his heart rate to climb. Long enough for shame to creep in around the corners of his mouth. Let him stand there empty-handed, stripped of bravado, shoulders still tense, chest rising too fast like he was choking on the silence. He didn’t know where to put his hands now. Should they hand loose? Fold across his chest? Clasp behind his back? None of it felt right. None of it made him feel like a man in control.

He didn’t know if he was about to be forgiven or destroyed. Good.

You turned back toward the dresser at last. The drawer glided open with a soft, familiar sound. And his eyes locked to the movement immediately. He knew what was in there. He had seen it. Felt it. But never like this. Never when you were mad. Never when it was about him.

You didn’t rush. You didn’t even look back at him yet. You ran your fingers over every shape, every ridge, every color like you were tasting them through your hands. Slow. Unhurried. Deliberate. You weren’t just picking a toy. You were choosing how he suffered. 

When your hand finally closed around the one you wanted, you lifted it halfway, just enough for the light to hit the color. 

Pink. Smooth. Unapologetic.

No straps. No attachments. Just exactly what you needed. You glanced over your shoulder. Jey’s breath stuttered. 

“I don’t reach for this much,” you said, tone flat. 

His voice was small. “‘Cause you don’t need it.”

You turned fully now, dildo hanging loose from your hand like a leash. “Exactly.” You stepped closer. “Why would I need a toy… when I’ve got a man right here?”

And fuck, the way his chest lifted, his lips parted, like he was already hearing you’re moans in his head. LIke his dick was about to be forgiven before you even touched it.

But you took it away.

The hope. The chance. The illusion. Gone.

“But right now?” Your voice dropped, like the room itself needed to hush for what you were about to say, “You’re not acting like the man I thought I had.”

Jey deflated right in front of you. Like you pulled the bones out of him. HIs brows furrowed. His mouth opened to protest, then closed. 

“You gotta earn me back,” you reminded him quietly. The same line. Same cadence. Same sentence that folded him in the kitchen.

He nodded, slow. “Yeah.” His eyes drifted to the toy. Back to you. “You ain’t gonna…” His voice hitched. “...use that on me, right?”

There was a tremble in his question. Not fear, just shame. Nervous submission. Like he knew he deserved to be used and wasn't sure if he could take it. You smiled. Not cruel. Not teasing. Corrective.

“Oh, baby,” you murmured, stepping close enough for him to smell your lotion, feel your breath. “No.”

Relief flashed across his face. Bright, stupid, and so short-lived it was almost pathetic.

“I’m not using it on you,” you continued, letting your voice fall an octave. “I’m using it on me.”

And there it was. That confusion. That twitch in his brow. That tiny twitch of his fingers like he didn’t get it yet, but he would.

“Then why–” he started.

You lifted the toy and tilted it slightly, letting the head glisten in the warm light. “Because I’m not putting it in cold,” you said. “And I don’t want lube.” Jey’s mouth parted. “No,” you whispered, stepping even closer. “I want it wet. I want it warm, and I want it dripping.”

He was still staring at the toy like maybe you didn’t just say what you said. Like maybe he misunderstood. But he didn’t. You watched it happen– the twitch in his fingers, the subtle shift of his weight like he didn’t know if he should fall or run. The part of him that wanted to disappear beneath you, and the part that wanted to deserve it. 

You didn’t blink. And when your fingers tightened just slightly around the base of the dildo, his breath left his chest in one long, shallow exhale. He knew. He knew what was coming.

“Knees.”

One word. No room for misunderstanding. No softness in your tone. It landed like a damn commandment. And he obeyed. 

Jey dropped smooth, knees to hardwood. No theatrics, no hesitation. Just silence and obedience and the soft sound of skin against floor as he positioned himself in front of you. Palms flat on his thighs. Spine straight. Head tilted up to meet your gaze. His eyes were wide now. Not afraid. Not cocky. Just open. Raw. Ready.

Exactly how you liked him.

You stepped close, so close the hem of your shorts brushed his chest when you breathed. You didn’t speak. You just raised the toy slowly until the tip hovered in front of his mouth. Close enough to feel the heat of it from your hand.

He didn’t move. He didn’t dare.

He looked up at you with those big brown eyes, lips parted just enough that you could see the nerves building up behind his restraint. Like he needed your permission to wrap his mouth around what you were offering. Like he knew that this wasn’t for him. 

Your fingers slid into his curls at the nape of his neck– light, steady– not yanking, not tugging. Just anchoring him in place. Grounding him.

“You wanna make this right?” you murmured.

He nodded once, sharp.

“Then earn it with your mouth.”

Jey’s lips parted fully now. Breath slow, eyes locked to yours. You pressed the tip in gently. Just the tip. He closed his lips around it, slow, soft. His tongue curled underneath instinctively. You felt him sigh through his nose as his jaw relaxed, as his cheeks hollowed slightly around the head of it. He wasn’t trying to impress yet.

He was just starting. Like he wanted to taste your forgiveness on the toy. You hummed, pleased. Calm. Still in control. 

“More.”

He took it deeper. A slow, obedient inch. His lips glided over the shaft, smooth and reverent. His tongue worked careful little swirls against the underside, and you watched the tension melt out of his body with each pass. Your grip on the base tightened, just enough to guide the pace. He let you. He wanted you to.

Jey began to suck– wet and noisy now, louder than before. The kind of sucking that sounded needy. Sticky. Sloppy. 

“That’s it,” you whispered. “Make it messy.”

And fuck, he did.

His jaw flexed, throat working as he sucked harder now. He pulled back with a wet pop, then spit thick across the shaft– his own spit stringing from his lips to the toy before he shoved it back in again, deeper this time.

More spit. More sound. More of his pride dripping onto his chest. He moaned around it. Eyes still locked onto yours, watery and wide and completely wrecked already.

His hands gripped his thighs like they were the only thing keeping him from touching you– like he was fighting every instinct to reach for your hips, your legs, your praise. But he wouldn’t. Because he knew he wasn’t allowed. He pulled off with another wet gasp, panting.

“Messy enough?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You ran the toy along his cheek, smearing the spit he worked so hard for across his flushed skin. You smiled. 

“Not even close. Open.”

You tilted the toy slowly, guiding back toward his tongue like you were painting his mouth with purpose. His lips sealed around the shaft with practiced appreciation, and you let it glide until it tapped the roof of his mouth with a slick little pop. His tongue chased it. So did his mouth– head tipping forward the moment it slipped away, like he couldn’t stand the feeling of it leaving. 

Drool spilled freely now. It leaked from the corners of his mouth, bubbled at the edged of his lips, and dripped slow down the curve of his chin. You watched the path it carved– down his throat until it finally settles in a glistening pool just under his collarbone. 

You didn’t wipe it. You didn’t slow him down. You wanted him ruined in this. Soaked. Sloppy. Owned.

“You know why you’re doing this?” you asked.

He moaned around the shaft– something high and needy and so soft you barely caught it. You pulled the toy out again, slow and controlled, just until it slid past his lips with a wet gasp. Jey’s mouth opened wider, still reaching, still desperate. And when you paused, pressing the tip against his flushed cheek again, he didn’t flinch. You just dragged it there. Letting the silicone smear through his spit and paint another hot, glistening line across his skin.

“Tell me.”

He blinked once. Breathed hard.

“‘Cause I forgot who I belong to,” he whispered. His voice cracked. Your smile broke slow.

“And who do you belong to?”

His answer came fast now. Sharp and certain.

“You.”

“And who comes first?”

“You do.”

You hummed, satisfied.

“Good boy.”

And then you guided it back in. HIs lips parted like they had been waiting for it, and this time, he took it. Buried it deeper, slid it between his lips with zero hesitation. HIs hands fisted into the fabric of his own shorts like he was grounding himself– because everything else in his body was working for this. 

No thoughts. Just suck. Just serve. 

Jey fucked himself on it now. Head bobbing. Lips flushed and stretched. His tongue worked like he was memorizing every inch. Spit flew. It was loud. Wet. Relentless. The toy was drenched. So was he. He moaned around it like it was his only language. Deep, hungry sounds that vibrated right into your palm. He was starving for approval– gutted by the need to make it perfect for you.

And fuck, he looked so beautiful like this. 

You released his curls, just for a moment. Let your hand drift between your own thighs, pressing into the heat blooming there. You didn’t even mean to. Your body just reacted– because Jey was on his knees, mouth ruined, eyes glazed. Eyes that wouldn’t stop looking up at you like you were the answer to every ache he had ever had.

Your pleasure. Not his. Not tonight.

You finally took the dildo from his mouth, dragging it free with another wet pop. It shone in your hand– slick, hot, and heavy with his devotion. His spit clung in strings between your fingers and the base.

You admired it for a moment. Then you turned and walked toward the bed. You didn’t say a word. Didn’t look back. But you knew he was watching. Mouth open. Breathing hard.

Desperate. Hungry. And still not allowed to touch.