Welcome To My Mind

"Shh, we have to be quiet." I groaned against her lips as she palmed me through my jeans.

Her and I were in the washroom of the club where my band was playing tonight.

"Please, like I am the one who has to be told to be quiet." She smuggly said against my lips as I brought her face towards mine.

I wanted to roll my eyes at her, but as I brought my hand between her luscious thighs, waiting to feel how damp her panties were, I was in for a pleasant surprise.

"No panties?"

She shook her head no, but I didn't believe her.

I had her turn around and lean over the small counter.

I flipped up her tiny skirt, and I couldn't help but groan at the sight of her very wet, bare pussy.

I leaned in and gave it one long lick as I pulled my cock from my jeans and boxers, which are now around my ankles.

I stood straight as I slapped my cock agaisnt her clit before slowly pushing in her pussy.

I watched her facial expression in the cracked mirror as I bottomed out.

Her hand was covering her mouth, and her eyes are squeezed shut.

I pulled back, before slamming back into her pussy.

I heard her squeal, but I did it over and over again until I myself was moaning her name as I bit my bottom lip, trying to control my own volume.

Her pussy started to squeeze my cock so fucking tight, I knew she was close before she could even say anything.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock."

She moaned name as she came, and at that moment, I didn't care if anyone could hear us now.

Not when I stilled, letting out a massive moan of her name as I filled her pussy.

It took us a few moments to catch our breath as I pulled out of her.

My softening cock twitched at the thought of her walking around with our combined juices for the rest of the night.

She went to clean herself up, but I said her name, making her stop.

"Don't clean yourself up."

She didn't question me, but did as I asked.

I played the rest of the show, with her in the front row, with my cock half hard.

The unmistakable huffing of the Irishwoman at your heels has you coming to a hard stop in the middle of the performance center hallway. You let her slam into your back, before spinning on your heel, ”What the hell do you want? I told you I was done.”

“Yeah, no, we didn’t even get to finish our first runthrough, and then you got pissy and stormed out.” Her hands fly around her head in frustration, “What is wrong with you today? This is supposed to be our big Wrestlemania match and you’re trying to ruin it, for what?”

Rolling your eyes, your arms cross over your chest, “I’m not trying to ruin anything. If anything, I’m saving us all from me doing something really fucking stupid right now. So just… go back to others and I’m gonna go cool off. I’ll… run a lap around the building or something. Just leave me alone, Lyra.” Even as you turn to go, she’s already walking around to face you again. This time, in your way.

“What do you mean ‘Do something stupid?’ What are you even talking about?”

“It’s nothing, just–” you take a step to the right and she’s right there, mirroring you, blocking you from leaving without getting physical, which she knows you wouldn’t do. “Get–Just get out of my way!”

Still, she insists on keeping you there in spite of the redness taking over your face, the irritation alight in your eyes. She always was too stubborn for her own good. “Look, if you’re upset about something, we can take a break and talk about it, but acting like this is totally unprofessional.” Her pleading eyes search your face for any indication of what had driven you so mad that it was better to walk away. “The girl I knew back in NXT would never act like this!” The next thing that comes out of her mouth is half-muttered, borderline unintelligible with her accent, though it echoes through your mind like a blood-curdling scream. “We used to be friends, remember?”

And so pin meets balloon.

“Fuck off, Lyra,” venom spits through your gritted teeth, too bitter to swallow, “don’t even start with that shit. You haven’t given me the time of day in months, and now you wanna talk about friendship? Fuck. that.”

As your shoulder shoves past her, you can feel her stunned silence, before the pattering of footsteps chase after you. Her words fall on deaf ears as you find the nearest exit, a side door that you push open to the humid Florida air, oppressive and sickly, but better than being trapped inside with her. Still in your ring gear, phone tucked away with the gym bag in your locker, you just plop down on one of the benches, head in hands. You can hear the door open and shut, footsteps now muted against the concrete, but the shadow she casts over you is more than enough to know she’s there. “I told you to leave me alone,” it's muffled against your palms, rubbing roughly against your face.

“Not until you tell me what's wrong.” Lyra’s words are forceful, certain, but not demeaning, and they carry a level of kindness that you definitely have not earned. You can picture her beautiful brown eyes watching you with real concern, that little quiver in her bottom lip that comes out when she’s particularly distressed. And just as the words ‘I can’t’ begin to leave your mouth, she’s right there with a, “Why not? What’s so terrible that you can’t tell me?”

“It’ll ruin everything, for real, I just… can’t.”

Her gaze burns through you, piercing your already aching heart. It killed you to see her so upset. It hurt worse to know you were the one making her feel like this. Like she had to take care of you. Your fingers toy with the fishnets stretched across your thigh, something to distract from the tremors of your hand and you swallow thickly, biting back tears that you refused to let fall.

Why did she have to care so much? Why did she have to be so perfect? Maybe if she threw as much vitriol back at you as you’d already thrown, insulted you, belittled you—anything to give you a reason to hate her—then you could pretend the butterflies didn’t exist. Like the flutter of their wings didn’t summon a storm inside you. Like your heart didn’t cry out for her every time she walked away.

“Looks to me like you’re already miserable,” she prods, “doesn’t seem like it can get much worse, can it?”

Damn her logic. Damn those pretty little doe eyes. And damn Creative for ever splitting the two of you apart.

You’d spent the last year and a half watching her joke and laugh and run drills with Bayley on the other side of the room. You had to watch your former best friend slip away from you; with every day that she got booked and you didn’t; with every promo cut with someone who wasn’t you; with every opportunity that she got, that sent her closer and closer to the center stage, while you watched from the curtain. Everything you’d built with Lyra during your time in NXT just dwindled away. The final straw was when you got moved to Smackdown and the calls, the texts, the friendship seemed to stop entirely.

She got her dream. You got left behind.

You weren’t jealous of her success, no, that would be much simpler. You were devastated by the destruction left in its wake.

“It–” the words are hard to come by, and your hands curl in and out of frustrated fists as you struggle to find the right ones, “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you be happy without me.”

The shock is written across her face with wide, blinking eyes and a gaping mouth and she literally shakes it away as your eyes fall back down to your lap, “You’re upset because I’m happy? What does that even mean? Is this because of what happened with the IC title? Cause I know you were supposed to–”

“No! No–” your hands shake with frustration until you flatten them against your thighs, "You don’t…get it.” Voice trembling in time with your hands, there’s nothing you can do to steady it as it lowers to something just above a whisper. “I love you. I have for a while and ever since we started working this tag program, it’s like you're in my head all the time, and it's fucking killing me.”

With nothing to retort, she just sits down next to you, hands tucked between her knees, head dipped down in mirror with yours. A few moments pass, lost in the warm ambience of light breeze through the courtyard’s trees, the soft buzz of insects near the flower beds. The barking of a dog in the distance, the rumbling of cars coming and going from the lot, the static-ky feeling in your brain as you wait for something—anything—to happen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s quiet. The sweet lilt caught in a hitched breath as she lifts her eyes to find yours. “Cause I’d rather have you at arm’s length than not at all.” You really don’t mean to say it out loud. It was a thought that had been locked behind iron doors for almost a year, as you’d let yourself slowly go crazy, suddenly brought to light. But it slips past your lips and you can’t take it back now. “You were just so happy, and I couldn’t ruin that.”

You’re almost surprised that no tears fall, as you wipe at where they should be, the phantom sensation of late night cries you’d had a hundred times before.

“I wish you had,” she reaches over and interlaces her hand in yours, “I think it might’ve saved us both a lot of grief.” And for a second, you let yourself hope. Then reality sets in, but at least this time, when you shove your feelings down and bury them, you don’t feel nearly as empty.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Chewing on the inside of your lip, you go to pull your hand away and her grasp tightens, a small smile and light laugh on her lips, “Where do you think you’re going?” Brows furrowing, you let out a little huff of confusion. “You really think I’m gonna let you walk away now? Now that I know you feel the same way? Absolutely not!”

It hits in waves: the baffled laughter, the anxiety, her confession, the fear; “Really?” She nods and the love in your heart burns. You want to fall to your knees and apologize. For not telling her sooner. For letting her get away. For pushing back when it hurt too much to hold on. But the only thing you can bring yourself to do is ask one simple question: “Can I kiss you?”

She leans in first, meeting your lips in a careful kiss, the scent of her vanilla lip balm swarming your senses to make a sweet moment even sweeter. Her free hand rests atop your thigh as she turns to find a better angle. It’s easy to let her lead, taking everything she’s willing to give, committing the moment to memory until she pulls away. The sight of your heart eyes and dopey, lovestruck smile twists hers into a smug, little smirk, “So, are you ready to get back to work, without throwing another hissy fit?” she jokes, as you nod bashfully. She stands and pulls you up with her, hand never leaving yours. “You wanna take me out for dinner after rehearsal?”

“Yes, please,” you plead with an airy, nervous laugh. And you let her lead you back inside to the rest of the teams waiting for you.

"Rhea." I muttered against her neck. My fingers slowly trailing down her body. Soft gasps fell from her slightly parted lips.

Her hands were groping my chest, leaving her own little crescent shaped marks on my body.

Earlier, she had her face buried in my chest as she sucked and nipped on my boobs.

Leaving her own marks on my body.

I nipped her neck and her back arched. I smirked against her skin as my hand made it's way under her loose, baggy jeans.

My hand paused when I felt nothing.

I pulled my face away from her neck and before Rhea knew what happened, I was between her now spread thighs, pulling down her pants.

I tutted at her as I saw that she was bare.

I took her all in.

Her pussy seemed to be glistening as I looked at her.

My eyes trailed up her body, and I could see how flushed she was, as she bit her bottom lip.

I couldn't help myself as I leaned in, and licked one long strip up her pussy, the two of us moaning.

Her moaning as I flicked my tongue against her clit, and me at the taste of her finally on my tongue.

I couldn't help myself as I started to eat her out like I was woman who was having her last meal.

Her hands grabbed the back of my head as I inserted two fingers inside her pussy.

I started off slow, moving them in and out, testing her limits.

Rhea let out one little, "faster," and I gave her what she was wanted.

My fingers moving so damn fast that she had to bite her palm to stop herself from screaming.

"So close." She cried out, but I pulled myself completely away.

"No, please." Rhea whined.

"Spend the night with me."

Rhea looked unsure, but I kissed my way up her body.

"Spend the night with me, and I promise to not stop until I have you shaking in my bed."

Rhea agreed to spend the night, and lets just say, her body was twitching by the time I was done with her.