it's fanfic, baybay

At first, it annoyed him.

The thin walls of his Manchester apartment blocked absolutely no sound. From one end, near his desolate kitchen, he heard the half-arsed sounds of a couple at all hours of the night. At the other end, nearly midnight on the dot, a bow would pull over strings.

He thought it to be a violin, but the sound was so horrendous and screeching that he couldn’t quite figure it out. Never less, he couldn’t find it in himself to move from the spot on his hard mattress.

It wasn’t like he could sleep anyways.

Gunshots bled into his ears warm and sticky, curses and cries of civilians slammed against his chest and made his eyes feel like sinking weights. Bombs screeched and blinded him, even though he could see the shadows of his wardrobes and chipped wallpaper.

He was there. On the battlefield.

That was until a particularly awful note would catch his ears, digging through all the horrible sounds of war.

It would make the corners of his lips perk up, especially when he heard the gentle curse of the “musician.” He figured horrible orchestral music would do rather than gunshots. He even managed to acquire at least an hour of sleep before he was stirred awake again by the sounds of death.

He’d wake up as he always did. A horrific grunt and a call for his teammates. It was pathetic, but the usual. Simon couldn’t recall the last time he woke up refreshed. He hadn’t slept well in decades, even his childhood was thrashed with harassment from his father who kept him up. He maybe had a couple good nights of rest as a recruit, while his brother and mother were still alive and his father was long gone festering in the hospital with cancer.

Still he was used to the dark circles under his eyes and the constant urge to yawn.

He’d gone about his civilian life as he usually did. Wake up in a sweat, take a cold shower, drink some breakfast tea, and watch the news. That was until three knocks sounded from his door chipping green paint. He had half the mind to ignore it, Simon didn’t know anyone around the area— After all, he was a Ghost. He chewed on his lip, If it was a threat they wouldn’t have knocked. He settled on placing his steaming mug on the wooden side table and huffing to stand. Curiosity won him over as his creaky joints shuffled its way over to the door.

He creaked it open only a couple inches, cautiously glancing around to see no one in the hallway. Scratching his five o’clock shadow, he blinked, feeling slightly paranoid that maybe he was imaging the knocking. That was until his dark eyes settled upon a half open box of what looked to be tea bags.

A note lay scotch taped to the front, written in the most interesting handwriting Simon had seen.

Heard the screams, I won’t pretend to know what it’s like. I figured you wouldn’t want me to pester you, so I’ll save you from the awkward small talk and leave these here. Not sure if you’re a tea person, but they help me sleep.

-your next door neighbor

He couldn’t find himself to move for a short while. His brain clashed in conflicts, as if he couldn’t settle on a single emotion to feel. It swarmed him at once— annoyance, embarrassment, gratitude.

His neighbor had took time out of their day to drop tea off at his door. He tried to think back to when the last time someone had done something genuinely nice for him. Besides his makeshift family of broken soldiers, he couldn’t think of a single occurrence. Zeroing in on the box, a twitch in his nose gave away his reluctance of the flavor. Lavender and Chamomile. So different than his simple breakfast tea.

But, it wouldn’t hurt to try it. Maybe then he’d be able to silently thank the mysterious neighbor for a good night of sleep.

He figured out who you were when he’d exited the shaky and completely unsafe lift onto his floor. In the crook of his arm he carried a brown paper sack full of his weekly groceries. It wasn’t the most fanciful of ingredients, the most extravagant being simple cuts of chicken breasts. He’d shoved the bag further into his grasp, reaching into his dark colored jeans for his room key when he heard your muffled curse.

You were hunched over your doorknob, pulling helplessly on the metal to unlock it. Hurriedly he changed his footfalls, switching from silent to knowingly hitting the creaks in the aged carpet. Your head tilted at the unpleasant noise, eyes widening in embarrassing anticipation.

It took Simon a moment to truly access the situation. It was as if his brain had slammed into a wall, colliding and knocking all of his thoughts astray. When he finally did come to his senses, the only thought he could repeat was— pretty.

Simon would be the first to admit that he had not been around many women in his life. Therefore, he didn’t have much to draw comparisons to—regardless you had to be the most beautifully unique person he had ever seen.

You wore a knitted sweater, likely homemade by the barely noticeable tears of threads and flaws. His eyes filtered down to your jeans, then his attention drew to the absolutely ridiculous socks clad to your feet and ankles. Bright purple, decorated with pink polka dots. He’d glanced up, embarrassingly distracted enough to not be able to listen to your moving lips.

“Hmm?” He grunted, thankful for his black surgical mask that covered half of his face. He felt secure being covered, as if all the bad things couldn’t penetrate through the flimsy material.

“Oh! Sorry for mumbling,” you apologized, which made Simon’s head tilt to the side. Why apologize for his lack of hearing?

You cleared your throat, releasing the doorknob from your hands and instead twisting them together in a nervous habit. It seemed you could hardly sit still, all in the span of thirty seconds Simon caught on to your spastic fingers and tapping foot.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?” You squeaked, instantly cringing at the horribly put together question.

“Excuse me?” Simon spoke, a hint of surprised amusement coating his tongue. Of course he knew how to break into buildings and pick locks, but you didn’t need to know that.

“I uh, locked myself out of my apartment. I forgot my purse and I keep my keys in there. I was just in a rush for food before my favorite place closes, and well— I’m rambling.” You sputtered, looking like it would be a better option to break through your door than stand under his burning stare.

He didn’t expect himself to extend towards you, settling his bag of groceries on the floor near his door. You slid out the way as he approached, not before he caught a pleasant whiff of lavender and something floral.

Simon shuffled in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a floss pick from the material. Call it his nagging habit, but he hated having shit in his teeth. He wasn’t used to eating or drinking with his balaclava on at work, so on the rare occasions he ate, it absolutely irritated him. Now the floss pick came in handy as he bent the hard plastic to fit into the lock of your door.

He was aware of your stare as he lay crouched, catching the puzzled yet intrigued look from his peripherals.

“Are you some type of cop?” You blurted, making Simon’s lips peek up in a half arsed amusement. A cop? This girl was funny.

“No,”

With a final click, your door creaked open with a whine of its hinges. He rose off the old carpet with a sigh, immediately going back to his groceries so he could be left in his solitude. Then before he could reach down and pick up the bag, your words cut him short.

“Thank you. Um… did you like the tea?” It was a simple question, but not one he was expecting. “It was alright.” He lied, the untouched box still rested on his cold countertops.

“You didn’t like it did you?” You chuckled, reading right through him. All he gave was a shrug of his shoulders, not confirming nor denying. “I knew it. You probably drink your tea black and food bland.” You teased lightheartedly, making an equally playful offended sound fall from Simon’s lips. It occurred to him that he’d smiled more in these last five minutes than he had in a whole year.

“It’s only for mature palates.” He heard himself joke, nearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Sure…” You introduced yourself at last, finally able to have a name to your face. “Simon,” he only thought it fair to state his own. Although it sounded weird coming off his lips instead of the usual introductory Ghost.

“Well Simon, if you’re ever on Bakers Street, there’s a Korean Barbecue place that is delicious. Now that’s real food. I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow since I pulled this stunt. And thanks again!” You smiled, an awkward wave marking your goodbye.

Simon nodded and entered his dark flat, once again drawn into his own mind and the sound of warfare.

He made sure, a few days later to pay you back for your kind words and the disgusting tea. He knocked on your door, hurriedly rushing back to his own and out of sight, hoping the white takeout box of barbecue would make your evening.

He had a particularly rough morning on an autumn rainy day. The chill of the air and racket of raindrops on the window was enough to startle him awake. He was reminded of the cold chill of Russia, as well as the raindrops hitting way too similar to the sound of bullets. It nerved him, nearly taking him several minutes to be able to breathe properly again.

He’d done what his therapist had mentioned, pinpointing colors, sounds, and textures.

Yellowing wallpaper, humming ventilation, scratchy blanket.

Gray clouds, rattling ceiling fan, his own warm skin.

With a sigh, he curled his palm over his eyes, rubbing away the awful reoccurring night terrors, and settling for getting dressed. He wore the simple clothes he always did, black hoodie, jeans, and boots. Simple, yet effective.

He grew rather sick of the walls of his apartment. The plaster suffocated him, the air suddenly too stuffy. For a short moment he was stuck in that coffin again, maggots wriggling at his flesh and the scent of rotten meat flooding his nostrils.

He stood suddenly, attempting to calm himself. He was in Manchester, he was standing. Something he couldn’t do in a coffin. It was a shitty autumn day with rain battering his window sill. He wasn’t in the desert, he wasn’t half dead. He was here.

He let his body lead him out the door with no destination. All his mind happened to scream was out, out, out.

He’d barely been able to grab the door handle and twist, fingers shaking in such a pathetic way it had him wrinkling his nose. He was underwater, shoved into the bucket as they held him under, making him lose his breath and weakly fight.

No he was here. Manchester! In Manchester.

“Simon?”

He was suddenly lifted up, finally able to push the freezing water out of his lungs and suck down oxygen. His head swiveled weakly to you, eyes likely looking dead and cold.

You were dressed warm. A coffee-colored sweater swaddling your form and a burnt orange cardigan hanging from your shoulders as well. You wore typical jeans and slip-ons, but bright orange knitted socks peaked from your jeans. They were even littered with pumpkins and leaves designs. 

He hummed in your acknowledgment, letting himself worry about his breathing once again. Colors, sounds, textures.

Orange Cardigan, your slow breathing, soft knitted socks.

“Are you okay?” You’d squeaked, barely audible over his massive heaving breathes. He instinctively nodded his head, knowing that if he showed any sign of weakness he’d be terminated. That’s how it’s been since he was four years old, being terrified of his father but not being able to express such fear.

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” You read right through him. Taking an inching step towards him. He said nothing, still shocked that you hadn’t left in a disgusted manner. He was weak and terrifyingly broken, and yet your sweet gaze never broke into pity.

Orange cardigan, quiet steps, smooth skin against his wrist.

He’d instantly felt relief from the lack of stinging pressure against his palm. Not realizing he’d been digging his nails into the calloused flesh, causing angry red crescents to print into his skin.

“Would you like a tea? I was about to go to the place across the street?”

His mind screeched no. He wanted so badly to be alone. To break something, to laugh as he bloodied his knuckles. He also wanted to shield his too pleasant neighbor from his violent tendencies. To keep her from him, to protect her. But his cold and dead heart managed to thaw and break all in one. The vile organ spoke for him as he found his head bobbing, lungs sucking in a big breath.

“M’kay.” He mumbled, following after your sweet lavender perfume down the lift like a sickly bloodhound.

He’d followed like a shell, hardly memorizing the turns and passing civilians until he was blasted with warm air from a cozy little cafe. He was slammed with comfort instantly, thrown back into the present world instead of the bloodied one he was used to seeing in his mind.

String lights hung above your head, illuminating your warm skin and kind smile. You’d ushered him to sit in the far corner, the leather booth squishy and comfortable. Simon had tuned into the fluttering orchestra of some jazz band, relaxing his bones and tired muscles only slightly.

Golden lights, swaying music, brewing coffee.

He startled when a thick paper cup slid in front of him, the fresh scent of breakfast tea relaxing him further, among with the smiling face blinking at him.

“Got your favorite, bland breakfast tea.” You quipped, taking a sip of your own lavender fruity tea. He let a soft grin cross his lips, pushing the invasive thoughts away while you were with him. “I told you it was an exquisite taste, you drink tea for a child.”

A bubbly laugh escaped you, making Simon freeze in pure awe. He’d never heard something so beautiful, a real authentic laugh. One that he caused.

“You should try it.” You eased, pushing your cup towards him with amusement. Simon’s eyes managed to squint in disgust, glancing down at the odd beverage.

His hand fit around the paper material, warmth meeting his fingers as he brought it carefully up to his scarred lips. The taste was sugary, but floral and rich at the same time. His tongue retreated away, and instantly he swallowed it like it was burning alcohol.

“I don’t like it.”

This tea perfectly matched your personality. Bubbly, overly sweet, and calming like the essence of lavender under his tongue. He’d rather have you than the tea.

“Well what do you like, oh mysterious neighbor?” You chuckled, taking back your tea with a happy grin. His dislike hadn’t irked you at all, instead you seemed more intrigued than before. As if he was enough to quirk your interest.

“Football.”

“Man United?”

He nodded.

“I’m a Liverpool fan.” You sighed, a guilty and mischievous grin passing over your lips.

“That’s more disgusting than that tea!” He growled out, a chuckle breaking through his chest at your lit up face.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite food or drink then? If you’re so quick to bash my tea!” You bickered back, happily noticing his shoulders relaxing and eyes softening.

“One of my Sergeants lives in Glasgow, he frequents at this pub with the best fry up you’d ever eat.”

“Breakfast in a pub?” You questioned, taking a sip of your tea again.

“Best hangover medicine.”

You’d scoffed, hiding your smile between your empty cup. Simon was surprised just how easy it was to talk to you. Here he was, just a man having a tea with a woman. Perhaps even a date? He didn’t have to worry about following orders or barking protocol to privates. Here he could be Simon, the man under the mask and war paint. It was… nice.

“So you’re in the military. That makes sense why I haven’t seen you over the last couple months.” You observed, but didn’t push. You were hanging the metaphorical bait, but he didn’t have to bite it if he didn’t want to.

He nodded, simple enough to confirm, but not enough to feel exposed.

“Well Simon, I have a train to catch. I’m going into Liverpool to see my Mum.” You explained, offering a polite smile.

“Sure.” He mumbled, watching you shuffle to leave the booth. “We should do this again sometime, it was nice to talk to someone besides my cat.” You urged, a laugh encasing your words.

His heart threatened to bounce out of his chest, but he pulled himself together with a subtle pinch to his thigh.

“Sounds nice.”

Dried blood coated his mask and stained his gloves to the point that he had to pull extremely hard to take them off. His shoulders slouched significantly and his eyes grew such large bags under them he could feel his skin sink into his skull. He was tired, exhausted, and needing a warm, long shower.

“Good te’ be back, yeah, L.t.?” Soap threw himself against a bench, groaning as he bent down to untie the laces of his boots. The Scot likely had the same idea as Simon, to shower all this blood off their bodies.

“Sure. Back to morning drills and bland Mess Hall food.” He added in monotone, eyes twinkling in amusement as Soap let out another dramatic groan.

“Oh don’t be like that.” He teased again, constantly pushing Simon out of his dramatic and lone atmosphere. It was nice in ways, how Soap managed to brighten up his day and keep him on his toes.

Speaking of toes, a frown worked its way onto his face as he caught the state of his freshly knitted socks. Dark mud and seeping blood rubbed uncomfortably against his toes, soaking the material of all its purity.

Soap followed his eye line, latching onto the pattern of white ghosts against black knitted material. A chortle escaped him, “Where the bloody hell did ye’ get those?”

“My Neighbor.” He answered shortly, taking note of the crimson color bleeding into the white ghosts.

“D’aw, little gran’ made ye’ some socks?” Soap teased, making the wrong assumption that you were some sweet elderly lady. Simon shook his head, peeling off the socks begrudgingly as he looked forward to his hot shower to warm his bones.

“She’s my age.”

His mind travelled to you. How you’d begged and begged for him to tell you his callsign, bringing up Top Gun of all things.

“Oh my gosh! You need to watch more movies. I can’t believe you don’t know who Tom Cruise is. Top Gun!” Your ecstatic voice carried as you sat in the now familiar booth the two of you shared.

It’s become a common occurrence for him to go out with you on Saturday mornings, sometimes you’d bring your laptop and study for an upcoming test in uni, other times you’d ask him any question under the sun, just to get to know him better. He was comforted by your mindless chatter, even more so when you’d avoid certain topics that made him uncomfortable.

You’d hardly pushed on his childhood or career, that was until you’d thought him traitorous that he’d never seen either of the Top Gun movies.

“Maverick and Goose? Never heard of them?”

“No.” Simon shrugged, sipping on his tea as your eyes sparkled again. “Do you have a callsign?”

His teeth grit at the question as his airway slightly closed. It was dangerous to identify himself off the clock, even more so in a public area. He studied your antsy form, noticing your hips hanging off the booth in curiosity, as well as the soft flesh of your lips pulled between your teeth. How could he ever say no to a creature so effortlessly beautiful?

“Ghost.”

A few days later, a knock on his door startled him from his routine of watching the local broadcasting. He’d approached the door, only to find a black pair of socks with little white ghosts knitted against the seams.

“Is she fit?” Soap found himself asking, a happy grin shining through. Simon was glad for his mask, for when he pictured your smooth skin, beautiful eyes, and stunning frame he could picture no flaws. Fit? That didn’t even begin to describe you.

“You have no idea, mate.”

He’d returned home Christmas Eve, tired and worn from all the flights and jet lagged beyond belief. His muscles were stiff and his heart was heavy. This was always his least favorite time of year.

Horror flashed before his very eyes, usually he’d get away with spending the holidays on base, catching up with his paperwork and training privates a little more to reduce his thoughts of his late family. Instead, Price all but forced him to go home, after a certain Scot let slip that his Lieutenant fancied his own neighbor.

He had nowhere to hide this time. He was home, and at the worst time of the year. Near instantly his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt Christmas ham, charred and ashes by the time he’d opened the front door. But that wasn’t the worst smell, not even close. Coppery tinges of blood clouded his nostrils as his eyes glazed over.

Hidden and reflected off the ornaments on the tree was his family. His poor sweet mother, who’d done so much and tried so hard to raise two boys with an abusive husband— she lay face first on the festive rugs. He’d rushed to her, only to nearly trip over his brother. Tommy’s hand was outstretched, blood trailing as he’d likely tried to crawl to his dead wife.

He couldn’t breathe, sheer panic and despair crawling on him like millions of slippery bugs. He’d vomited all the contents of his stomach as he caught the crib in the corner. Not his little nephew, not little Joseph.

Loud honking from below drew him out of his mind. He’d been standing idly in front of his door, duffel clutched so tightly in his hand he was sure he’d had punctured skin.

White snow, soft violin, warm coat.

Violin?

His feet had already carried him to your door, hand cautiously rapping against the thin wooden material. He knew it was late— hell, it was likely already midnight and Christmas Day. Yet he needed something, he needed to hear your voice and smell the lavender and floral ofyour perfume. He even wanted to see the orange fur of your pet tabby cat.

“Who is it?” Your soft voice carried through the door, successfully halting some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Simon.”

The door cracked open almost immediately, revealing you in red flannel pajamas and sleepy eyes. He’d never felt such a relief as he had just now. Seeing you, your warm smile peeking through all the tiredness.

“You just get back?” You asked, slippered feet already sliding to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle.

“Yes.” He replied, bending low to pat the orange ball of fur dubbed Garfield. The cat mewed happily, even going as far as letting his belly be scratched. He’d missed your eyes curiously glancing at him from behind a cabinet, two mugs clinking as you pulled them out. He’d had the same cloudy eyes and sagged shoulders he always did when he was plagued by bad memories and PTSD.

“I was just about to put on a movie, if you want to sit on the sofa.” You’d suggested, seeping the leaves of his breakfast tea in a fluid motion. Your warm and inviting voice broke him away from thinking of his family, especially when the steaming scent of tea crept up his nose.

“What movie?”

“I was thinking Home Alone, or maybe even The Grinch. Tis’ the season and all that.” You bubbled, taking your own seat against him. He’d stiffened slightly at the mention of the holidays, but his thoughts quickly vanished at the subtle brush of warm skin against his side.

He wasn’t able to breathe properly as you laid your cheek upon his shoulder, right in the dip between his neck and clavicle. But no, it wasn’t the suffocating and violent loss of breath like before, when he thought of war and bloodshed. No, this was a dull ache of his heart, as if telling him that yes, this is where I want to be.

Red Flannel, shifting bodies, soft lips.

“How about we watch Top Gun?” He asked in a whisper, still feeling the absolute sweetness of your lips, the pleasure and love that was you.

You’d single-handedly dulled his pain, silenced the noise, and picked him up on the darkest of his days.

He loved you.

Tag list: @mykneeshurt

A couple of months had passed since your fateful visit to his house, and in that time, Kenny had been a bit of a coward. He’d be the first to admit it. By a mix of interest and inaction, he got himself in a hole he felt he was only digging deeper into. After that first hook up, he let you take the lead, getting himself roped in a casual thing that wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but was the best he could have right now. At first, he was sure he could just do it, easy - or at least that’s what he told himself. But as time passed, things were getting less easy, a quiet discomfort settling into his bones. He couldn’t feel it every day, only here and there, but on lonely nights it usually appeared, poisoning his mind and reigniting the storm in his heart.

It wasn’t your fault, he knew it wasn’t. Kenny had entered the situation willingly, accepted the terms and went along with the game. Now he couldn’t complain. And he wouldn’t, not when he would have you in his arms almost every other week. It was a coin flip, really, but there was always about a fifty percent chance he wouldn’t have to sleep alone in his hotel room, at least for one night. Besides, sex was great, and the company was better, so he really had no right to complain. And he had learned to live with it, so long as he didn’t think about what was going on when the coin didn’t land on his side.

But aside from that, things remained the same - or about as much the same as they could. You were still friends, still spending time together when you had to travel for a show, still preparing together every now and again, still eating and traveling along with Matt and Nick and all of that. Although, while one brother had mercifully spared you from any judging stares, the other hadn’t been showing Kenny the same generosity. But Matt couldn’t do anything, so for now the routine continued. Travels, hotel breakfasts, dinner after the show, and of course, watching your matches. Even the ones where he felt ice creep under his skin at every big move.

The loud crowd cheered and Kenny heard Nick cheer behind him too. Not even fifteen minutes into the match and you had drawn blood from your opponent. You were ramping up the violence fast. There was something about the cage that lured out the animal in you. He could see it in how your eyes reflected on the screen. Feel it in the way you moved, a bloody hand slicking your tousled hair back, its bandaged twin wrapped in barbed wire. You looked to the side, face turning directly to the camera for a second, and Kenny felt like you were looking straight into his eyes. His breath caught in his throat and was only freed when you turned around and ran forward again.

The match continued and soon you too started to bleed. There was crimson smeared on your chest and spilling down your face, the thick liquid pooling on your lips like honey, slowly leaking down your chin. It dripped on your gear, staining the leather red, blood and sweat mixing on the corners where the thick fabric dug into your skin. You broke out of a pin at a two, opponent crashing back on the ring in exhaustion and disbelief as the camera zoomed on your face. The screen filled with your image as your lips curled, your smile a devilish baring of teeth as your tongue slipped out, licking the blood from your plump lips.

Never had your time together in New Japan felt further than now. You were nothing like this before. Sure, you had always been a thrill seeker, enamored with the rush of the fight, but not like this. The person moving on the screen before him was more beast than woman. Not that Kenny disliked it. No, he loved it. You were the picture of a wild thing, untamed and free in its brutality. An ancient god covered in blood, beautiful in its bestial horror. The years apart had changed you into someone different, and Kenny loved that person. To him, you were the most gorgeous thing, and even the sight of your bloodied smile had his pants suddenly feeling tight.

Kenny knew he should sit down, but he just couldn’t, torso leaning into the metal railing as his eyes never left the screen. The match went on and he could only imagine how well you were seeing with the blood spilling down your eyes, hair sticking to your beautiful face. Still you pushed on, gaining ground, getting bolder - just as Kenny got more anxious. If this match went beyond forty minutes, he’d probably implode.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, you made a run for the top rope, gaining momentum as you made it to the turnbuckle before throwing yourself high into the air. Your body twisting as it drew an arched path up and across the ring. Though, just as you were about to land, your opponent rolled to the side from her spot down on the ground, your body hurdling to the hard ring floor. Kenny winced as he heard Nick hiss, foot hitting the hard concrete below them.

“Shit, that was unnecessary,” he grunted, eyes still following your movements as you got up, taking a blow from behind just as you got to your feet.

“What? That was cool,” Nick cried in almost disbelief, leaning forward in his chair and throwing a popcorn in Kenny’s direction. “Unlucky, but cool,” he added when Kenny glanced to the side for a second before looking forward again, just in time to see you manage to recover.

“That was reckless,” Kenny retorted in a strained voice, watching you trading blows in the middle of the ring, fighting hard to regain your ground. “Come on, she is risking too much, especially with all that bleeding t-”

“You know she’d hate to hear you saying that,” Nick cuts Kenny off in the most somber voice he’d ever heard from the man. “You don’t think she is good enough?”

Nick’s words touched Kenny’s ears like a butcher’s knife to tender flesh. A clean, merciless cut. It froze him to the core. More than that, it also felt like a threat, quiet rage spilling through his friend’s voice, in a way eerily uncommon. When Kenny turned around, he found Nick’s gaze on him, somber aggression shadowing his eyes, and a judgment that felt worse than Matt’s ever did. The moment feels like it’s suspended in time, his knees almost buckling under the weight of that heavy stare. And then he remembers, Nick had always been close to you, if there was somebody out there who knew all the ways Kenny wronged you, that would be him. And he’d be primed to notice Kenny slipping up again.

It hurts. Kenny knows Nick is right, and it hurts. The truth burns him, wide eyes glued on his friend’s somber ones, yeah, he deserved the quiet rage. Then he remembers something else, he remembers you, saying those same words when he went to see you after a match, not too long before you left. ‘You don’t think I’m good enough?’ Kenny had gone to check on you, worried about your state, he was scared of you getting seriously injured, deeply terrified of something bad happening to you. He couldn’t understand why you were enraged when he talked, why you wouldn’t just comprehend that he cared and he wanted to help. Why you wouldn’t just take his advice, when all he wanted was to see you well. He was afraid, and he ended up letting that push you away. 

He was acting on his fear back then, and he was doing the same thing now, too.

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd, breaking the bubble they had been trapped in. Two pairs of eyes turned back to the screen, both men catching the end of your finisher, just in time to see you take your opponent to a pin. The sight has Nick coming to his feet fast, both Kenny and him voicing a strangled yes under their breaths. The count starts, and it seems so long, but just as they were both about to commemorate, it stops, your opponent kicking out almost the third hit, Nick and Kenny once again matching in a chorus of frustrate grunts.

You don’t let up and the match continues, now turning into a struggle, a test of resilience for both sides. For a brief second you leave an opening and your opponent capitalizes, having just returned from the almost pin. She delivers a kick that sends you flying over the hopes, back hitting the cage wall before you fall to the hard floor. Nick winces and Kenny follows suit, but it’s not for long. You come back up with a renewed fire, rage burning bright and making you turn the next few minutes in an unbarred beat down, until you are standing before your exhausted opponent laid on a table. Kenny knows it can only mean one thing.

It all happens in a flash, you run to the corner, propelling yourself up from the top rope so you can jump to the cage wall and climb to the top. It’s like Kenny blinks and you are already standing at the edge of the metal structure, looking down at the ring below. You look small, standing over the large space, floodlights drowning your form. His stomach drops, anxiety creeping into his spine, but in a second it’s gone. You leap, and it’s like all goes quiet for a moment, both Nick and Kenny leaning forward in anticipation. Like the world stands still and there is only you, spinning in mid air for an eternity, defying gravity’s attempts to pull you to the ground below. 

You are almost glowing, and Kenny remembers something else. He remembers the first time he saw you - the first time he noticed you, that heart stopping moment that burned your existence forever into his mind. You were taking a leap, much like this one, body floating in midair almost as if weightless. You were wild, free and unafraid, and something in that fearlessness captivated him. So when did he let his fear convince him that caging you would be for your own good?

These long few seconds finally end as the crowd erupts in a booming cheer, Kenny and Nick following along as your landing hits perfectly, bringing your opponent crashing through the table. In a moment you recover from the crash and make it to the pin again, and this time it goes down to the count of three. The bell rings and Kenny’s smile couldn’t be bigger if he wanted to, body frozen in awe and joy as he watches you standing bloodied but victorious.  Nick throws an arm over him, bringing them close together, breaking the tension away from his body.

“See? I told you had nothing to worry about,” Nick says over the loud cheers.

“Yeah,” Kenny replies, finally relaxing against the metal railing, laughing softly as he looked back at Nick, “I was just being a scared idiot. And that was fucking beautiful.”

You make your exit and just as your music dies down, both men start making their way to the backstage again. Kenny wanted to be there for you when you returned, bloodied and glorious, his heart still racing in his chest after that match. In a perfect world he’d get to hold you in his arms, kiss your lips despite the blood, and then be the one to clean it from your face. But this was not a perfect world, all he could do was congratulate you like a friend. To tell you how great you were and how beautiful the match had been - and hope he could make up for at least a fraction of the times he didn’t tell you all that.

Before they could get to where your locker room was, they found Matt, who stopped both Kenny and Nick in their tracks by saying you had actually gone to see the doctor. There it was, the taste of fear again, rising to his mouth like bile in his throat. It was sickening. But before Kenny could react, Matt insisted that it was nothing too bad. You had dislocated your knee cap, painful but not dangerous, and something all three men knew you’d been through before. Otherwise, you had just scattered cuts that needed tending, but you were mostly unscathed. Kenny felt a sigh of relief escape his lips, it was terrible to see you in pain, but he knew this much wouldn’t take you down.

Together, the three made their way to you, moving through the corridors until they found the door they were looking for at the end of a hallway. It was open, Kenny could already hear voices from the inside, your warm laughter hitting his ears and calming his heart. But the soft moment was cut when he heard something else, a booming voice he knew all too well, followed by a laughter that almost felt mocking to him. He could try to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there and move forward just to see you, but then he saw a figure passing by the open door. It was Adam. Finding a poor explanation, Kenny excused himself, letting the brothers go on by themselves, feeling Nick’s eyes burning on him as he left.

Kenny knew he had been a coward by just bailing out, he knew he shouldn’t have done that, and still he did. But the thing was, he really didn’t want to be around Adam right now, not when you were in the same room as well. He was still tender from all the thoughts and memories that he’d gone through near the end of your match and he didn’t think he was strong enough. So he left, turning back and regretting his weakness at the same instant. Minutes later, he sent a text to Matt, asking him to let Kenny know when you’d be leaving for your locker room. And now he stood at your door, an ice pack in his hand as a peace offering, a gesture done more to appease his mind than anything else.

You make your way to your locker room limping and exhausted, whole body screaming. The knee was more annoying than anything else, but your back was killing you, and the ice pack you were holding to it wasn’t helping that much. The old pain refused to leave you like some sort of clingy ghost. You had won but fuck, you really felt beaten, you could use a hot shower. The moment you turn the corner to your locker room, though, you are suddenly shaken out of your pity party. Standing by the side of the door, staring straight back at you, was Kenny, an ice pack of his own in hand and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says in an almost awkward tone and you have to bite back a chuckle, “came to check on you, see if I could be of help,” his eyes feel soft as he speaks, hand lifting the ice pack so you could see it.

“I got one already,” you lift your hand from your back, showing the pack in your hand to him. Your words come almost without thought, like a robot responding on auto pilot, something deep in you bringing back bad memories before you shook your head to scatter them away. “But thanks, I appreciate the thought,” you smile this time, trying to believe in the softness you see in his eyes, opening the door and gesturing for him to follow you inside.

“Well, one more won’t hurt,” he adds as you shut the door behind the both of you, blue eyes following your form as you crash on the bench in front of him. “Heard from Matt you got hurt, how you doing?”

You close your eyes with a heavy sigh, too tired to even properly think, but your brain still processing the pain rattling through your bones. Kenny’s quiet and gentle tone comes almost like a cress to your ears. There was a time where having him in your locker room after a match meant you’d only get more tired - but for a wholly different reason. And then, there was a time this same scenario would only end in rage and anguish for you. You shook your head, this was neither of these times, and the man standing before you spoke in such soft tones and he didn’t even seem like that same person.

“Some cuts and bruises here and there,” you respond, touching the large adhesive bandage covering the long gash in your forehead, fingers littered in small scrapes from the barbed wire. “A bruised ego from not getting a pin from my own finisher,” you laugh, and Kenny follows along, making you feel more at ease to look him in the eyes and truly count your losses. “And a dislocated knee cap, again. But it’s like I get one of these every other year, so it’s not too bad. Though, my back hurts like hell. Not that there's anything wrong with it just, some injuries never really leave you, you know how it is.”

Your words are quiet, a sad smile playing on your face as you shrug, eyes falling to the floor. You pull down your knee pad to reveal the swollen and hurting joint, placing the ice pack on it with a hiss. You knew you looked almost destroyed, and you knew Kenny could see it clearly. Not only in the swollen knee, but in the multiple scrapes on your body, and the few scattered bruises that were probably darkening already. Beyond that, there was still blood on your hair, red staining your gear and some spots on your body. You won, but you still looked like a mess, a glorious mess but a tired one nonetheless.

“If it’s any consolation,” he spoke softly, and at the same time you felt a cold touch bringing relief to your tired back, Kenny dropping to sit by your side on the bench, “you were great. Really, that match was just fantastic.”

Kenny smiled, blue eyes shining as one hand held the ice pack to your back, held against the point on your spine where the longest scar was. Exactly the spot that was hurting the most. His other hand came to brush away a strand of hair from your face, blood still smeared over it. For a moment you felt your breath hitch, heart stopping as the ocean in his gaze drowned you in. When his fingers left your face, you broke away from his eyes, your gaze falling to the side as you laughed softly, his words warming your tired body.

“Thanks, at least that means my knee’s sacrifice was worth it, then,” you smiled back at him, chuckling as you spoke, still not brave enough to return your eyes to his deep blue gaze.

“When did you dislocate it?”

He asks calmly, but you still feel a shiver run down your spine, body reacting on muscle memory, mind suddenly jumping on alert. You remember how it would go, you remember it far too well. He was always worried, always scared, always just wanting what was best for you. And you wondered if he considered what you wanted, what you needed. You wondered if he ever considered that maybe you knew what you were doing, that you were good at what you did. The sting of the memory hurts more than it should and you try to push it away. You are a different person, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t do that to you now.

“What,” you laugh, and it feels wrong even to your ears, a dark and raspy sound ringing through gritted teeth as your tense eyes lock with his own. And you almost feel like Kenny cowers back at the stare. “You gonna chastise me for it if I tell you?”

“No,” he responds, voice almost small as he shakes his head.

“If you do, I'm gonna break your teeth in,” you point a finger at him, the threat coming with a smile and a chuckle that are only half true.

“Fair,” he snickers, lifting his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck as he laughs, “but I’m not planning to.”

You stare at him for a second, but Kenny doesn’t budge, blue eyes trailed on your own, smile seeming soft and genuine. It’s strange, but he has been showing that he changed, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. With a heavy sigh, you rest your torso on your free hand, fingers digging into the edge of the bench as you remember that exact unlucky moment.

“Remember that failed pin after my finisher? Well, after that, she kicked me straight to the damn cage. The fall wasn’t high, but it was still garbage, the moment I hit the ground I knew my knee was out of place again,” the words leave your lips and your eyes look deep into his own, searching for that well known judgment, but you find it nowhere, only a pained softening as you describe what happened.

“Shit,” he shoots back and you almost laugh at the simple reaction, “but honestly, I wasn’t able to tell from just watching. And that last jump was gorgeous anyway, it actually sounds even more amazing now,” Kenny’s eyes shine as he laughs softly and you feel your fears melting away, his presence bringing a strange comfort.“You think you are gonna have to stay away long?”

“Nah,” you shrug, despite the movement flaring up the pain in your back, “I didn’t have anything booked for the next two weeks, they’ll probably give me another one and I should be back with a bunch of tape and a brace on that knee after that.”

“I’m happy to know that,” Kenny’s lips curl into a wide smile, his eyes shining softly and you feel a gentle warmth rising to your chest, blood rushing to your face.

“Well, Kenny, thank you for your worry, really,” you respond, pushing yourself up too quickly for your pained knee, but still hiding the wince as you stand proudly. “Now, it’s not that I want to kick you out, but I really need a shower. I got blood drying between my tits, it’s really not nice.”

He laughs at your words but still takes his leave, laying his hand on your shoulder before he goes, its warmth spreading through your skin as he praises you again. When the door closes behind him, you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, fighting to get a hold of yourself. That was getting too mushy for comfort. God, you really needed that shower now.

Kenny grunts as your soft lips crashed on his own in a sloppy flurry, tongues dancing together as he pulled your bodies close. You were sitting on top of him, hands bracing your weight on his naked chest as your legs straddled his hips. Kenny’s hands travel from below your top down to the exposed skin of your hips and thighs, savoring the feeling of your soft skin under his thick fingers. God, you felt so good, so right. When you rub your wet pussy against the large bulge in his pants, he breaks away from the kiss with a gasp, wondering for half a second if your wetness would stain his jeans. Somehow, the thought only got harder.

Shit, sometimes he really felt like an animal around you.

Kenny hadn’t even had the chance to take off his pants when you two crashed on the bed. He had come to visit you in your house nearly two weeks after you’d gotten hurt in that cage match. But almost as soon as he arrived, you both were already clashing together in a needy mix of mouths and hands and erotic touches. You dragged him to the bedroom and although this wasn’t the original purpose of his visit, he wasn’t about to say no. He had forgotten how you got horny when you were bored. And you could get really bored when you couldn’t fight.

With one hand, Kenny opened his pants, freeing his aching erection from the tight confine of his pants. The moment his cock was out, you rubbed your pussy against it, smearing his sensitive length in your wetness as he groaned. One of his hands smacked your ass for teasing him, but he loved every second of it. Bringing his lips back to your own, Kenny took hold of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he aligned himself with your entrance before pulling you down in one fluid motion.

You both moan, lips still barely touching each other in a messy dance. You slide all the way down until he is buried balls deep within you, and Kenny holds you there for a second, completely lost in pleasure. When you start to move, he grunts into your lips, one hand going to the back of your neck to pull you further into the kiss. It feels sinful and holy how your body fits so perfectly on his, your arms over his shoulders keeping him close - oh, if only you knew how he never wanted to be away.

The bouncing of your body up and down his cock has his mind reeling. The way your pussy tightens against his hard shaft every time your ass slams against his legs brings him to the edge of madness. You move in sync, tongues and hands and hips in an erotic harmony. Bodies already used to the map of each other’s shape. Like an old road leading home, one he could traverse with closed eyes. And one he never wants to leave.

One of his hands travels up your body, pulling down the strap of your top, revealing the tender skin of your breast. He digs his fingers into your pliable flesh, in ecstasy at how soft it feels under his rough digits. Kenny teases your nipple and you moan, sound silenced by his hungry mouth. He bites into your lower lip, feeling you tighten around his cock, his whole body shaking with a shudder in response. When he is satisfied, he moves his hand from your chest to your neck, long fingers circling it from side to side. He can feel you shiver, mouth leaving yours to lay a kiss on your shoulder as his digits tighten against your pulse.

A gasp escapes your lips in response, movements stuttering, and the hand on your ass holds you in a firm grasp as Kenny starts moving you up and down his cock. You almost feel weightless, like a doll in his strong arms, he makes it seem easy to hold someone as heavy as yourself. You take it, breathlessly holding onto his shoulders for support as he aids your movements, his other hand constricting your neck only just enough. It’s like everything is becoming too much, his kisses on your shoulder, his cock slamming on your quivering pussy, the large hand digging into your pulse. You can feel the coil within you tightening more and more.

Just as you manage to pick up the movement of your hips on your own again, Kenny’s hand flies to your pussy, deft fingers finding your sensitive clit. Shit, you are sure he is gonna break you down like that, but you don’t really mind. He is throbbing within you, grunting and moaning as you clench around his length. You start to feel breathless, your hard grip around his shoulders loosening, and that’s when his fingers let go of your pulse. Air rushes into your lungs just as his mouth finds your neck, and that’s when he starts hammering his hips against you, one arm now resting on the bed for support.

“That’s it, come on, let go,” he murmurs against your neck in encouragement and it only brings you closer to the edge. “I got you.”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, making your pussy tremble and throb. You want to scream, but the sound that comes out is no more than a whine as you bury your face in his shoulder, the movement of his fingers on your clit becoming too much. When Kenny digs his teeth into your neck, you shudder, stars covering your vision, body going limp against him. But he keeps to what he just said, holding you with a thick, powerful arm as his hips hammer into your own, riding your orgasm as you shake around him.

Kenny feels close, so fucking close he can taste it, cock throbbing wildly inside you. He is moving you up and down, slamming his hips into your own, chasing his high as you lay breathless on his chest. Your hands run lovingly over his arms and back, a gentle caress to his tense muscles. He feels you laying warm kisses on his left shoulder, the same one that has been giving him so much trouble that he needs it wrapped in tape almost every other match. But you still kiss it softly and adoringly, just the tenderness of the touch driving closer to his breaking point.

His movements grow faster and more erratic and you start moaning in a weak tone every time he bottoms you out. The sweet sound is too much for him, the coil in his gut snapping as he sees white. Kenny pulls you down, holding your hips firm against his own as his cock throbs, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside your soft, warm pussy. He is breathless himself, arms trembling as he paints your insides white, a bliss so powerful he almost feels undeserving of it. Kenny pulls you by your hair gently, lips finding yours again as he rolls you both, laying your body down on the bed with a kiss as he pulls out.

For a minute, his lips still stay on yours, the kiss is soft and sweet as his large hands caress your face. When your mouths part, your eyes meet each other, both held in a deep, powerful gaze for a long moment as you both feel breathless. Kenny feels his heart stuttering and the air choking in his throat. That’s when he pulls away, laying down in exhaustion. You two stay like that for a second, laying on the bed as you recover your breath, your hand caressing his arm as you murmur something soft to him. All he can feel is the overwhelming weight of the emotions he fights to hide.

When you get up to go to the en suite bathroom, finding your lost pants on the floor of the bedroom, he just stays laying down for a moment. Looking around, he takes in the place, a gentle green painting the walls and the bright sunlight filtering through your warm windows. There were illustrations hanging from the walls, posters and other such things. Your bedroom was large and beautiful, and it smelled like sweet scented candles. 

Looking to the other side he sees the closed door to the bathroom, and by it an open door leading to a closet. He can see some of your gear, the leather and chains recognizable from afar. And then something strikes him, a pain shooting into his gut like a knife when his eyes see something hanging in a corner on the far wall. A jacket, but not one of your own, although he can still recognize it, and it has his blood freezing in fear. That was Adam’s jacket.

You leave the bathroom fully dressed and Kenny snaps out of his own mind, eyes finding your soft smile, his heart almost forgetting why he was so terrified. Getting up, he picks up his shirt from the floor and goes to get cleaned and to give himself a moment to push that sudden terror and pain to the back of his mind. He was here now with you, that was all that mattered. When he leaves the bathroom, he finds you waiting for him by the bedroom door, a soft hand bringing his face down to your own when he approaches. The kiss washes over him like a blessing, sunlight shining into his mind and scattering his fears. And fuck, he had already fallen beyond the point of no return.

You leave the bedroom together, as you lead him by the hand, only letting go when you get to the living room, telling Kenny he could wait as you went to the kitchen to get the food. Walking around, he could finally get a good look at the place. When he arrived, you two were so fast to just jump on each other that he didn’t have much time before you both ended up in the bedroom. Not that he was complaining, but he was happy to be able to fully take in the place. He had never been at your home before, despite how he had been to Matt’s and even Nick’s homes multiple times, and how you lived relatively close to them both. It was weird thinking back now, noticing how far you were despite being so near.

Your home was beautiful, the warm sun shining through the large windows making it seem dreamy. The living room was decorated in earth colors, a few plants breaking the dominant hue with their green. The whole place smelled like coffee, sweet and deep and it reminded him of you. Through the wall he saw posters, paintings and photos, sharing the space with the occasional hanging plant, thick vines dropping to the floor, heavy with large leaves. 

As his eyes traveled, Kenny spotted something else. In a corner on the wall, only gently touched by the sun, stood a tall bookshelf, all black metal and dark wood. Though, it wasn’t its design that caught his eye. The shelves were littered with various pictures and wrestling memorabilia, and even before his feet carried you there, he already knew they all related to you. Like scattered shards of a life he didn’t witness, they shone under the sun, the only remnants of a history he wasn’t there to share. It was almost like he was staring into something he shouldn’t see.

Most of the things on the bookshelf were photos, some large, others smaller, the majority of them having you in the frame. The ones that didn’t, he knew you were the one behind the camera. His eyes scanned the pictures, many had you with various people, some he recognized, others he didn’t, but he could tell almost all were from your WWE days. The larger ones always had you with a belt, either alone in the ring or surrounded by friends backstage. They were a commemoration of conquests you rarely even mentioned now.

Though, what surprised him the most was seeing an old photo in a wooden frame, standing almost humble in a corner. Compared to the newer ones around, it even seemed blurry. The picture had a much younger you, and on either side were Nick and Matt. He recognized that photo. He had been the one to take it, all the way back in Japan. Looking around, he saw a couple more pictures from that time, and although he knew he had no right to, he still felt his heart drop when he realized he wasn’t in any of them.

Shaking his head he moved on, aside from the pictures there were a couple assorted pieces of gear, beautifully worked, clearly something from special occasions. At one of the lower shelves he found a few figures, the WWE logo stamped on all of them. They had different clothes and even poses, but the one that got his attention was the one where you carried the belt. Kenny remembered seeing that exact one in a store one day and freezing, swallowing hard as he realized you had found success without him.

And then the feeling catches him again, but not quite the same way. You had found success without him, and it was a good thing. It was good that you had left. Looking through all of these things now, he finally took in the extent of the life you had lived. These objects all told a tale, not only of the path you had trailed, but of how important it all had been to you. He knew how hard you had fought to be free to do with your life what you wanted, to follow your dreams, even before you had gotten to New Japan. And even beyond that, you continued to fight and to conquer and to live your life to the fullest.

Suddenly, Kenny felt overwhelmed by the realization that he had almost robbed you of that. That his fear of being left alone had blinded him and almost chained you to the ground. That in his desperation to keep you safe, to keep you close, he had almost stopped you from having all of that. He had been selfish and childish and it was good that you were stubborn and relentless. He had always liked that in you.

“Oh, please, anything but that one,” your voice snaps Kenny out of his mind, only then realizing his fingers were almost touching the figure on the shelf. “The face mold makes me look awful,” you laugh and he has to try and calm his breathing, to force his heart to slow as he looks back at you.

“They never look quite right,” he laughs sheepishly, hoping you don’t notice his state as you approach.

“This one looks especially bad though, so sad that it’s the one with the belt,” you pout and Kenny almost melts, heart skipping a beat at the sight. “You must think I’m a hoarder, keeping all of this stuff.”

The words spill from your lips followed by a soft laughter, it’s sheepish and he can feel the hesitation in your smile. You feel ashamed, hands fidgeting by your side. No, he doesn’t think you are a hoarder, he wants to say. He knows the importance of the memories of all the things you’ve built. But the words get caught in his throat as he looks into your beautiful eyes. You both growing silent for a moment before he turns his gaze back to the bookshelf.

“No, I think it’s nice,” he hesitates, throat feeling like it’s closing, as if he was choking on his words. “I can see why you keep them.”

You stand by his side, shoulder resting on the wall, as you watch him speak. Kenny talks softly, he says the words with a smile, but you can tell there is turmoil behind the gentle curl of his lips. You can tell by the way he hesitates, the way he chews on his words, the way his voice feels just a bit heavier, a bit more controlled. You could only imagine what goes on in his mind, your eyes following his gaze to the most recent photo in the bunch. It had been taken only a month after your arrival at AEW, in it, you stood surrounded by new friends - and old ones - standing in front of the ring. Kenny is so tense he doesn’t even notice the silence growing again, but you can almost taste the anguish in it.

“Kenny,” you call his name gently, and he finally turns back to you, eyes almost gazing beyond your face, “what’s got you thinking so deep?” 

He blinks a couple of times, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he laughs softly, but you don’t believe in that laughter for a second. “Nothing, really,” he starts, but you hum suspiciously his way, prompting him to squirm under your gaze a little, face turning back to the bookshelf for a moment and you can see him almost speak. His lips tremble and his jaw moves, but he hesitates, cutting himself off before any sounds come out. Then he turns back to you, taking a deep breath before finally talking.

“Just, these are all nice, honest. I can see what they represent to you,” he smiles kindly, but  the gentle curl of his lips feels bittersweet to you. “You’ve done so many things, and I’m really happy for you, really proud. You deserve everything you’ve got. And you truly became someone awe inspiring,” his smile grows bigger and you can tell the compliments are genuine, words spoken from the heart, but there is still tension in his voice, like a frozen lake, and you can see the shadow of something swimming just below the surface. “Though, I guess that was always a given, I never knew anything that could stop you.”

That’s when the ice cracks, and you catch a glimpse below, things falling into place in your mind. Guess that responded to your fears from all these months ago. Yes, he was aware of what he had to apologize for, he knew the sins he had committed, and now he was made to face them. To catch a glimpse at the other side of that door, and take the brunt of that feeling. Some time ago you’d relinquished this moment. Cherished the regret in his eyes as he looked at the photos on the shelf. But time had made Kenny into another person. One you could care for. One you could hold close to your heart.

“Come on,” you laugh, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning your head against it. “You talk like I did way more than I actually did. I mean, not that I’m unhappy with anything,” you shrug, laughing softly, feeling a bit happier when Kenny follows along. “And I’m happy you like who I am now, you know? We all change and sometimes, that’s terrifying. I guess, in the end, leaving New Japan, coming to WWE, it was for the best, I can’t deny,” you rest your head fully on his shoulder now, looking up to see those ocean eyes glancing at you from under heavy eyelashes.

You want to console him, to tell him it’s ok, that your stubborn nature saved too much harm from being done. That in the end, since you left and got to make your life your own, you still could find space for forgiveness in your heart. But you can’t do that, not when he won’t truly tell you what he thinks. So you settle to try and say the things you mean, without saying the words. To tell him that despite the harm done and all the bad things, you still managed to find beauty. You managed to be happy, and you’d want him to be too.

“I mean,” you start again, free hand coming to circle around his bicep as you speak, eyes falling back to your photos, Kenny’s gaze following suit. “It all helped in the growth of my career - and, shit, despite my problems with them, I can’t say WWE wasn’t important on that too. But also on my growth as a person, I needed to do all these things I did to become who I am now. And sure, some of them were pretty stupid and reckless, but I don’t regret anything,” you say with a smile, squeezing his arm and bringing his gaze back to yours, those piercing eyes feeling raw and open. “Even though, my body may be a bit more fucked up now than it should. But we can never win against age in the end.” 

You finish your words with a warm laugh, laying more of your weight on his shoulder as your body shakes with the movement. You can only hope he has understood you, only hope you managed to get your point across. Kenny chuckles along with you, and you can feel his head shaking from above your own. A large hand covers the one you had on his arm, warmth spreading from his palm to you at the gentle touch. It made you feel happy, to hear him laugh, feel the warmth of his hand, made you believe that maybe you could get through.

“You are not old,” he retorts, squeezing your own hand, his smile reaching his eyes again.

“Ah, see how that feels now?” You pull away from him and playfully slap his shoulder, Kenny’s laughter filling the room. “But really, Kenny, I gotta face the music too. Time passes and my body just isn’t as strong as it used to be. That little cage match isn’t something I can do without weighing the costs now.”

“Come on,” Kenny rests his hand on your shoulder, smile never faltering from that beautiful face, his eyes filled with something tender and inviting that you can’t quite place. “You still got some years to go, and many matches like that last one to give during that time.”

His hold on your shoulder is tender, and once again his warmth spreads all through your skin. It’s like Kenny heats the room he is in just by being there, warmer than the sun and twice as gentle. He smiles at you with a kind certainty that makes you want to believe in his words, to believe that time would be good to you the same way he is. For a second you get caught in a bubble, removed from the rest of the world, this long moment where there is only you and him. Only this bright smile and beautiful eyes that make your heart skip a bit and make you suddenly forget how to breathe. 

Shit, you really don’t wanna think about what this means right now.“Let’s go,” you snap yourself out of it, slapping his shoulder and turning around in the direction of the kitchen, “food is gonna get cold, again. Hurry up.”

It was 8 AM but Jon couldn't keep his hands off of you. You were at the gym, the earliest birds who had gotten up while it was still dark had just left and the second round of morning trainers were yet to arrive. It was just the two of you and every time you got up to move to a different machine, Mox was there to grab your hips and crash your bodies together. The more he worked up a sweat lifting weights or jumping rope, the more intensity you could feel in the kisses he planted along the nape of your neck and the way he breathed you in.

"Jon, someone is going to come in here and see you," you whispered, putting your hands over his. But you didn't pull away.

"Alright I'll stop. But only if you promise I can have you tonight, sweet thing."

You nodded, and right before you could turn around to kiss him, Dustin Rhodes walked in and Jon let go of you to find his next machine.

---

At lunchtime, you left your hotel room to venture out into the world to find something to eat. Right as you opened the door to step out into the hall, you heard a door a few feet away open. When you turned, you saw Wheeler exiting his room. You made eye contact and he beamed at you, immediately letting his door fall shut and jogging towards you.

"Lunch?" You asked him with a smile.

"I was going to eat, yeah, but suddenly I have a much better idea." He started playing with your hair, looking you up and down with a different type of hunger in his eyes.

"Yoots, as nice as that sounds, I'm starving."

"Okay, pencil me in for later then."

You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his chin, then his lips. "Deal."

The two of you held hands and walked to the elevators together to go get lunch.

---

You, Bryan, and Claudio always liked to be early on nights there was a show. You would spend time in the locker room and backstage, socializing and planning. You liked to watch Dark matches together, always looking for ways towards self-improvement and generous with advice for those who wanted it after their matches. Claudio was always specific in his notes, and he could find something in every match that could be improved.

As you stood behind the curtain, watching the ring, he would stand behind you, leaning down periodically to whisper something in your ear, either asking if you noticed a detail about the match that he liked or suggesting you might try something similar to what the wrestlers were doing. Even when you had a totally clear head and were utterly focused on work, you couldn't help but get shivers up and down your spine each time his lips would brush against your ear.

Bryan was standing next to you tonight and he noticed out of the corner of his eye when you started to blush while Claudio was whispering to you.

The Bunny had been ringside for the last Dark match and as she came backstage, you told the boys you had something you wanted to talk to her about. You kissed them both on the cheek and jogged to catch up with Allie. Claudio and Bryan watched you walk away and as soon as you were out of earshot, they started scheming about that night.

---

Your match on Dynamite was fairly quick but you still came backstage full of adrenaline, breathing hard. There was no blood, but your eight minutes had been intensely physical. William Regal had sat on commentary and he followed you backstage through the heel tunnel when you exited.

Between the tunnel and gorilla, there was a little dark spot where no one could see you. William grabbed you by your wrist and held you there. You were still panting, and you couldn't see him in the shadow, but you felt the creamy soft fabric of his three-piece suit press against your bare stomach. He hooked a finger under your chin, pulling you up into a short but ferocious kiss. His other hand grabbed you by the ponytail and yanked lightly as the kiss ended.

"You were spectacular tonight," he whispered against your lips. You started to grin. "I want to give you a reward back at the hotel, okay sunshine?"

"Okay," you breathed, unable to think straight while he still had a fistful of your hair.

Regal released you. "Good," was all he said as he casually walked into the public of the backstage area with the rest of your coworkers.

---

That night, you wondered who would come knocking first. You took a long hot shower as soon as you got back, and as you were standing in front of the mirror wearing just a towel, inspecting your bruises, a knock came at the door.

You answered to find Wheeler standing in the hall, holding two tallboys and smiling at you. You stepped out of the way without a word, granting him entrance to your little hotel room. He put the beers down on the first flat surface he could find and then turned to you. Before the door to your room had completely swung shut, he was pulling your towel off, wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You moaned softly into his mouth. Yuta was an eager lover and a great kisser. His energy always made you feel wanted and loved. You knew how intense and violent he could be in the ring, but in bed he was attentive, curious, always looking for new ways to pleasure you. Nothing brought him more satisfaction than drawing new sounds out of you or making you cum.

As you were deepening the kiss, another knock came at the door. Yuta pulled away and frowned. You stroked his cheek to comfort him, picked up your towel, and grabbed the door.

It was William. He also came bearing gifts, though you could not see what was in the small black bag that he was carrying. He looked over your shoulder and saw Yuta standing in the entryway to the room. He smiled devilishly at you. "You already have your hands full, dear," he said with a chuckle. "Maybe I should come back another time."

You put your hand out over his to stop him from walking away. Whenever you touched his hands, you loved how big and rough they were. You wanted them on your body. He raised an eyebrow at you and without a word he let you guide him into the room.

The three of you all walked separately into the room proper and stood looking at the bed, the men both doing the mental math of changing their plans from a one-on-one session with you to a group game. It wouldn't be the first time that the boys had shared you, but it usually took some adjustment to figure out where everyone would be comfortable.

Just as you were opening your mouth to speak, you heard your hotel door open again. You furrowed your brow. Your room was a single, you weren't sharing with anyone. You leaned over to look around the corner back at the doorway and saw Bryan and Claudio stepping inside. Bryan was holding a key card and grinning at the sight of Wheeler and Regal.

"Well, well, well," Claudio started to laugh a huge belly laugh. "How does the saying go? Three is a crowd, four is a party?"

There was an armchair in the corner of the room, facing the bottom of the bed. Regal took his little black bag and put it on the floor next to the chair and sat down, legs spread. He patted a knee and you walked over to him, as if in a trance, and sat down in his lap. He put one of his large hands on the back of your head, pulling you into a deep kiss. You whimpered softly and you could hear a low growl come from Claudio at the sound.

The other three men all started to step out of their shoes and socks and get comfortable, readying themselves for whatever happened next. But Regal only pulled you in closer. Your towel was still wrapped around you, but it was getting loose. He kept one hand at the base of your skull so you couldn't pull away, not that you would have wanted to. As the kiss continued, your body naturally fell more into the line of his body. You turned your hips and opened your legs until you were straddling him. He let go of you for a second to reposition his hands, using one to open your towel the rest of the way and the other to steady your hips, which rolled against him happily.

"That's a good girl," he cooed. The hand that had opened your towel now pressed against your sternum. He could feel your heart pounding as you looked down at him from your perched position. "Now, what would you like to do first?"

You knew that the correct answer was always to take care of William first. In the Blackpool pecking order, he was a Lord in and out of the ring. "I want to taste you," you whispered. You could feel your cheeks flush scarlet as you said the words.

"What was that, petal?" Regal roughly held your face in one hand, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

"I want to taste you, sir."

Regal relaxed both of his arms, letting go of you and letting them rest on the armrests of the chair. He smiled at you, satisfied, and nodded. You slid down between his legs until your knees rested on the carpet. The towel fell to the floor behind you and you couldn't help but shiver. Your hair was still wet from the shower and the air conditioner was blasting. William let you undo his belt and open his gray pants. Feeling generous, he even lifted his hips slightly to aid you in pulling his pants down enough to grant you access to his cock.

He was wearing tight briefs, bright red with a white waistband. You ran a hand over him through the red fabric and let your mouth follow behind, exhaling to warm him with your breath. He watched you closely, his intensity enough to make you forget how crowded the room was. You pulled down his waistband and freed his erection, wrapping one hand around it firmly and placing your lips around his tip.

William let his head fall back and he moaned his approval as you went to work, moving your hand in time with your head bobbing up and down to take as much of him as you could in your mouth. As he grew at your touch, you started to gag but you didn't slow down. Not until another knock came at the door and you froze. Regal's head snapped up and he immediately put both hands on either side of your head and encouraged you to keep moving. "Don't stop now, sweetheart. Young Wheeler will answer the door."

You continued to suck off your head coach and you could hear Wheeler behind you, opening the door. You knew it would be Jon, but your suspicions were confirmed when you heard him laughing. "Great minds think alike," he said as he clapped a hand on Bryan's shoulder.

Regal could feel you getting distracted and he held your head down as he pushed himself into the back of your throat, holding you tight in place as you gagged around his girth. He leaned down so he was whispering against your head. "Are you ready to begin now, darling?" You moaned around him, spit building up around the base of his cock as you continued to choke on it. He let go of you and you came up for air, gasping as the spit fell down on your chin and dripped onto your chest.

You stayed on your knees and looked up at William. He was already using his own hand to jerk himself off with your spit as lube. "Give me my bag," he told you softly. You handed it to him and he patted you on the head. "Good girl." From within the bag he pulled some warming lube and a shiny silver butt plug. "This was the trophy I brought you. Do you like it?" You nodded eagerly, licking your lips. "Since you've been so good tonight, I will let you pick who gets to put it inside you."

He handed you the butt plug and the lube and you used his knees to steady you as you stood up and turned around. Wheeler was standing back by the door after letting Moxley in. Bryan was sitting up against the headboard, fully dressed and ankles crossed. Claudio was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing just his joggers, his shirt thrown on the floor with his shoes and socks. Mox was standing next to him.

You stood bedside and held out your offering to Bryan, who smirked as he took them from you. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood next to you. "Good choice," he complimented you. He was only an inch taller than you, and though he was sometimes loathe to admit it, he liked the way the rest of the group towered over you both, but he was grateful to still have some height on you.

He instructed you to get on the bed, and you crawled on on all fours, facing your ass out to him, sticking it up in the air as offering. He smiled and caressed you softly before spanking you. The sound was crisp and clear, it filled the whole room. So did the moan it elicited from you. You heard him open the tube of lube and put some on his hand. He was gentle with you at first, letting the substance warm up to your body temperature as he rubbed it on before he started to finger you in preparation for the toy.

Claudio leaned back on the bed and fell into your line of vision. He reached out and held your hand as he kissed you. "You look so beautiful like this, baby," he told you. You loved to hear him praise you in that gorgeous accent of his. He kissed you again and you continued to moan at Bryan's movements. Just as your eyes fluttered shut, you felt empty, then the pressure of the tip of the butt plug pressed against your entrance.

"Ready?" Bryan asked you as he rubbed his clean hand over the cheek he had spanked previously. Claudio stopped kissing you long enough to let you give your consent and then you squeezed your eyes shut again as you felt him push the plug inside you. You had taken bigger, but it still never ceased to surprise you how good it felt to let these men fill you up in any way they saw fit.

Mox walked around the bed to join Bryan behind you. You heard him unzip his jeans. He pulled you back by your hips and your feet fell to the floor so you were bent over onto the mattress. Jon ran his hard cock up along your slit and coated himself in your juices. "I think she likes it," he said smugly. "She's so wet."

Claudio was sat next to you now, rubbing your back as Jon continued to tease you. Bryan slipped off his shoes and stepped out of his sweatpants before he crawled onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard on the opposite side as before, positioning himself so that your head was in his lap. "Please," you whimpered.

"Who are you talking to, little girl?" Regal barked at you from across the room. "Use your words."

"I want Mox inside me," you said as Claudio pushed your hair back out of your face.

"Well don't tease the poor girl, Jonathan. Give her what she wants."

Without another moment of hesitation, Mox pushed inside of you. The combined sensation of being filled by the plug and letting his cock enter your pussy was enough to blind you for a moment. Claudio chuckled as he leaned down to kiss your shoulder. Mox was always fast and rough. He knew how much you liked to be used like you were his doll, and he got off on it and got off on getting you off. He continued to fuck you as Bryan pulled down his underwear and revealed his erection to you. Your face was so close to it he could feel your breath. You were still being rocked back and forth by Mox's thrusts, so Bryan helped guide your lips onto him and he held your head as he thrust up into your mouth.

You could feel Mox speeding up as he dug his nails into your hips and held you down into the mattress. "Fuck her throat, Bry, I want to hear her gag like a little whore," Mox growled. He was slamming into you even harder now and you clenched around him. He knew his words turned you on, and Bryan was happy to oblige. He fucked your mouth until you were both sloppy with your saliva.

Mox pushed down on the small of your back as he continued to pound into you. He was close, you could tell just by his movements. He came inside of you and collapsed onto your back, breathing hard. Claudio watched you as you continued to pleasure Bryan. "Such a good girl," he breathed, as if he was in awe of your talents.

Mox pulled out of you and started to walk away. You saw him walk to the bathroom out of the corner of your eye and you heard as he turned on the faucet. Bryan eased up his movements, sensing it was time to switch positions. Claudio stood behind you and slowly eased the butt plug out of your ass. You sighed at the sensation of it being pulled out of you, but before you could feel empty, Claudio was lifting you up off the bed. He flipped you over and laid you down with your head on the pillows. As he stood over you, he stroked your cheek with one large hand and smiled.

"I'd like nothing more than to fuck that pretty little ass of yours," he told you. "But I want you to tell me what you want next, princess."

"I want you both inside me," you said, grabbing Claudio and Bryan's hands at the same time. "I want you to use me. I want to be your fuck doll."

Claudio visibly shivered at your words. He stripped down to nothing and jumped over you to flop on the bed beside you. You started to move to get on top of him, but he turned to his side and grabbed you with both arms, pulling you effortlessly until you were sitting in his lap, your back pressed against his strong chest. Bryan positioned himself in front of you, between Claudio's legs. Claudio lifted you up and you got in cannonball position, hugging your legs up to your chest to give both men access to your holes. You leaned back, resting your head next to Claudio's. He held your weight up for you and lined himself up with your ass. The plug had prepared you so he slid easily inside. You could feel the vibration of his groan in his chest and hear it as he pressed his mouth against your ear. "Amore mio," he started to gush in Italian. "Sei molto bella, amore mio, sei andata molto bene."

You turned your head and caught his lips with yours. Though you hated to stop him from gushing, you needed to kiss him more. As you rested with Claudio inside you, you closed your eyes and continued to kiss him and you felt Bryan press himself against your pussy. You felt Claudio react as Bryan slid inside. Taking both cocks made everything simultaneously tighter and more slick.

Claudio held you by your hips and Bryan loosened your grip on your legs to let you drape them over his shoulders as he crouched in front of you. Supported by both men, they started to move you slowly, letting you get acclimated to the new position. You hissed slowly as you felt them move inside you and Bryan chuckled under his breath. "Such a good girl," he remarked, almost more to Claudio than to you.

They both started to move more deliberately, finding a shared rhythm as they used both of your holes and brought you closer and closer to your own climax. You could barely think straight, you were so overtaken by physical sensation. As your eyes started to flutter shut you felt Bryan's hand clasp lightly around your throat. He knew how good you felt. You forced your eyes open to look at him and he smiled at you. "Cum for us," he ordered you. You felt one of Claudio's hands slide forward to rub your clit and you gasped. Both men laughed as they continued to fuck you and you let your orgasm take over your whole body.

The feeling of your pussy tightening around him was too much for Bryan, who pulled out to cum on your stomach. Claudio thrust up into you a few more times before releasing his load inside your ass.

You collapsed next to Claudio, your entire body still shuddering and shaking from one of the most intense orgasms you have ever felt. Claudio wrapped his arms around you and spooned you tenderly as he kissed your shoulder. "Brava la donna," he whispered.

As you came back to reality, you looked around the room. Mox was fully dressed, boots still on, standing in the corner. Bryan was putting his clothes back on, watching as Claudio still laid naked with you in bed. Regal was smiling at you from his arm chair, still touching himself. Wheeler was standing to the side, behind Moxley. He still had his clothes on and his eyes were burning with such fire. Though he had been patient and let everyone take their turns with you, you knew he needed you as badly as you needed him.

"Are you ready for more, sunshine?" Regal asked you from his throne.

You bit your lip and nodded. Claudio slid out of the bed and you propped yourself up on your elbows, preparing for what was next. Your pussy was still throbbing with pleasure and you watched as the three men who had already finished made room for Wheeler to step forward. You smiled at him. The two of you were the closest in age of anyone in your group, so you had always felt a special bond with Wheeler. Even still covered in the cum of three other men, when he made his way towards you, you knew that you belonged to him. He could feel it too. He loved to watch you giving and getting so much pleasure from your teammates, but just as it was in wrestling, he watched so that he could learn and he was always excited to try new techniques.

"You look so goddamn beautiful," Wheeler told you, his voice raspy with desire. He said it as if you were the only two people in this room, in the entire hotel, or on the entire city block. Nothing else mattered to him but you.

"Come here, baby," you whispered to him. He took his clothes off and you could see he was fully erect. You patted the bed next to you, inviting him to lay down on his back. Once he was comfortable, you slunk over to lay between his legs and started to kiss the insides of his thighs. You saw the goosebumps raise on his skin and smiled at the effect you had on him. You wrapped one hand around his base, but instead of taking his length in your mouth, you started with his balls, sucking lightly and relishing all of the sounds that Yuta made. When you saw his back arc off the mattress, you moved your focus to his tip, swirling your tongue around him a few times before you wrapped your lips around it and started to suck.

"Fuck," Wheeler exclaimed involuntarily, his hands flying to tangle themselves in your hair. You smiled to yourself and took his whole length in your mouth, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat. Instead of pulling away though, you pushed harder, making yourself gag more as you held him there. You heard him start to breath harder and felt his fingers clench around his fistfuls of your hair and you knew you were doing your job well. When you continued your movements, you were surprised to feel Wheeler stopping you. "You're too good at that baby, but I don't want to cum in your mouth."

You understood immediately and you moved to straddle his hips. You didn't put him inside you immediately though. First, you let his cock slide along your slit, mingling your spit with your juices. You were still wet from cumming, but getting to taste Wheeler had gotten you all worked up and ready for round three. He held your hips and held you tighter as you rocked against him. You needed to put both hands on his chest to steady yourself because your legs didn't have enough strength yet to lift your weight enough to line Wheeler's cock up with your entrance. Yuta rubbed your thighs when he noticed they were shaking, then he reached his hand between you to help guide himself inside.

You relaxed down onto him, letting him fill you to the hilt. He didn't move right away. He wanted to live in this moment. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down so you were laying on him with your arms on either side of his head. He started to kiss your neck as he rocked his hips against yours, gently at first, but with a growing need and intensity. Your clit was pressed perfectly against the front of his pubic bone and you knew it wouldn't be long until your second orgasm overtook you. He sensed it too, he could always read you like a book, so he held your hips tighter against his and continued to rock your bodies together as he sucked harder on your neck, trying to leave his mark on you as a souvenir.

You tried to moan his name, but your voice failed you, the pleasure mounting inside of you was too much. All that came out was a whimper. When Wheeler felt you start to cum on his cock, he pushed back against you lightly, encouraging you to sit up just enough to give him room to start thrusting up into you. It didn't take long for him to finish. Between the physical pleasure of feeling himself inside you and the warmth of pride in his gut he always felt when he made you cum, it was all too much.

As your body started to melt into Yuta's you felt him stroking your back lovingly. But there was still one more thing left to do, and none of the men would let you forget it. Yuta hugged you tightly and flipped you both over and to the side, sliding you on the bed slightly until he had positioned you on your back with your head falling off the mattress. You took in your new perspective and saw Regal standing over you. Without hesitating, you opened your mouth wide and stared up at him. Even upside down, you could see he was beaming at you. Wheeler remained laying between your legs as Regal jerked himself off into your mouth.

You hummed in delight as he finished on your tongue and you swallowed his load.

~ ~ ~

“Remind me why I agreed to wear heels…” 

You couldn’t help complaining as you slumped in the chair beside Eddie, kicking off the wretched shoes then lifting your legs into his lap. Blessed relief at last. It had been a great honour when your college roommate asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, but God, you weren’t prepared for such a long day. Starting at 6am and, now, it was nearly Midnight with no sight of the party coming to an end soon. Drunken guests were still stumbling over their own feet around the dancefloor to songs that played at every wedding. 

“Because you look like hot shit when you do, Mami.” 

Eddie stretched across to pepper kisses to the crook of your neck, stubble gently scratching against your skin and bordering on ticklish. A happy noise slipped past your lips when his fingers slipped under the hem of your dress to massage your tired calf muscles. He said something similar whenever you dressed in one of his jerseys and nothing else. 

Having Eddie at your side throughout the wedding had really been a saving grace. Keeping you entertained during boring small-talk with other guests and whispering softer words in your ear whilst you danced together until his back forced him to stop. A loud, angry grumble from your stomach forced Eddie to pull back enough to raise an eyebrow to you, obviously hearing the sound over the music.

“I’d sell my soul for something to eat.”

Another downside to being a part of the bridal party. Whilst everyone else was enjoying a fancy meal, you were helping the bride into her reception dress and missed the entire thing. You didn’t even get a slice of cake! As you tried your best not to sound ungrateful to be chosen as a bridesmaid, your hunger was causing you to become more irritated by the minute. Your irritation only deepened when Eddie chuckled before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a white napkin. Any sense of anger leaves you as he reveals a perfect slice of wedding cake, white frosting piped with care and vanilla scent instantly hitting your nose.

“I saved a piece for you. Can’t have my girl missing out on free cake.” 

In lieu of thanking Eddie verbally, you pulled him into a slow kiss with a hand on the nape of his neck and your free arm slipping around his chest. What did you do in a previous life to deserve a boyfriend like Eddie Kingston? Sweet as honey and far gentler than anyone would know. A second hungry growl broke the kiss and you took the offered slice of cake from Eddie, resting your head on his shoulder. Nearly seated in your boyfriend’s lap, you happily ate the cake and absent-mindedly wondered if you’d ever find yourself at your own wedding to Eddie someday. 

Bryan’s lips part, and Yuta watches him try and fail to breathe—hears the faint catch of his throat, feels the bob of his Adam’s apple against his palm. It’s like he can feel so much more than he’s ever been able to feel, but all he wants to feel is this.

It’s Bryan’s eyes. The way they stay on Yuta’s even as his lungs try to take in air, and there’s nothing like panic in them. His lips are pink, damp where he must have licked them recently, and Yuta wants to kiss him.

Bryan’s his. He can do whatever he wants. Bryan will let him.

He’ll let him.

Yuta takes his hand from Bryan’s throat, but keeps his air for himself, presses his lips to Bryan’s gasping mouth, and Bryan kisses back, but there’s a jerkiness to it, a stuttery, halting quality. Because of Yuta. Bryan is perfect, and Yuta is allowed to unmake him.

What

does

that

make

Bryan’s eyes fall to half-mast, his head tilting up and back. Yuta doesn’t know if it’s meant to show off the perfect picture that is his hand around Bryan’s throat, Bryan’s skin only interrupted by his. Bryan’s mouth opens, and the breath that he takes in is only in little hiccups. Yuta relaxes his hand, and Bryan sucks in a shaky gasp, watching him, eyes on him, his eyes. His eyes. All Yuta can see, other than his hand on Bryan’s neck.

“How does it feel?” Bryan’s voice is raspy, soft. Yuta’s hand is still at his throat. Bryan doesn’t move, remaining slouched back against the headboard. “To know I belong to you?”

“Everything,” Yuta says helplessly. He feels like he could do anything. Like he could be anything.

Cash Wheeler's POV:

The only sounds in the room was my hips slamming against YN's ass over and over again. Her cute little whines that are muffled behind my hand, and my groans.

I knew she was tired. We have been going at it since she walked out of the bathroom earlier, wearing my favourite red latex skirt and black boots.

Trying to find the perfect shirt to wear. I still hear her squeals as I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind and threw her on the bed.

She was going to say something when but all she got out was a whimper when she saw the look in my eyes as I crawled on top of her.

That was hours ago and I still haven't let up. I have been edging myself but I have lost count at how many orgasms I have been able to pull from YN, all with the skirt and boots still on.

"You knew what was gonna happen the moment I saw you in these." I moaned into her ear. My hips smacking off of her ass even harder.

Her hand was on my stomach as she pushed back slightly, but I reached down and moved her hand away from there and put it around my neck.

"Not gonna stop. Gonna fill you up. Watch my cum drip out of you. Watch you get big with my baby."

At this point, I was out of it, trying to chase my own high, but I pulled myself back. I pulled out of her and gripped the base of my cock, trying to calm down.

YN fell forward onto the bed, can hardly stand now. I knew her legs were weak. "Turn over baby. Yeah, onto your back."

YN did as I asked with no complaints. I am stroking myself as I watched her. "Spread your legs. Let me see your pussy."

I groaned even I saw her swollen pussy. Her thighs were covered in her own juiced and her pussy was begging for attention.

I got on my knees and thrust two fingers inside her overly sensitive pussy. YN cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but she never once told me stop.

YN's hands gripped the top of my head as I ate her out. "Please Daniel."

"Please what love?"

"Need you. Want you."

"You have me." I said to her as I went back to eating her out.

"Need your cum. Need it so bad." She gasped out between little pants.

I stood up and slammed into her before she even had time to think. I gripped her legs in my hands and spread them as far as she could go.

YN's hooded gaze was on me as cried out. Her legs were shaking as her final orgasm of the night was getting closer and closer.

I let go of her one leg and gripped her red latex skirt. Pulling her closer to me if possible as I slammed into her over and over again.

Her one leg is now over my shoulder and I turned my head and I just couldn't help myself. I licked the side of the boot and up her leg.

"Daniel, Daniel, Daniel."

"Yes chant my name YN. Let everyone know who is fucking you." I let go over her leg and it fell at my side.

I now have both hands gripping her skirt as I fucked her harder than I have ever done before.

"DANIEL." She screamed as she came all over my cock. Her gorgeous eyes were closed and she had tears streaming down her face.

I fucked her through her orgasm and I was so close, I just needed a push to get me over the edge.

"Say it." I demanded and she knew what I ment.

"Filll me Daniel. Need your cum. Want your baby."

"Yeah, you do. Shit, you'll look so beautiful all round." Just the image of her pregnant had me screaming out her name.

Tearing her latex skirt in half as I emptied myself deep inside of her.

My hips stuttering against her as I continued to cum. My mouth hanging open as I have never cum so much.

I finally stopped and I pulled out, the both of us groaning. I got down at eye level with her abused pussy and I groaned at the sight of our combined juices leaking out of her.

I took two fingers and shoved the cum back inside of her. "No more Daniel." YN whimpered as she tried to close her legs.

"I know baby, but just need to push my cum back in. Then we can nap."

"Okay, you also owe me a new skirt."

I chuckled at the thought of going shopping with her. Her trying on new skirts for me. I could feel myself getting hard once more.

This is gonna be one long ass night.

You opened the door up for him, and let him in, quickly closing it behind him. You heard him panting as you locked the door. Did he run all the way here?

"I know it's really late,...but- can I crash here for tonight?"

"Sure." you turned, watching him wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, his face flushed dark red. It was pretty late, past midnight, though occasionally you still heard walking and restless noise in the hall, it was a Friday night after all. Who was asleep before midnight on a Friday night?

"I'll be good, I promise."

"I know, " you said as he set his backpack onto the empty bed across the room. Good thing you lucked out and didn't have a roommate this year. Otherwise, this would be pretty hard to explain to...anyone.

You watched as he undressed, kicking off his sneakers and stripping off his sweats until he was left in just underwear. You flopped onto your bed, head against your pillows, still watching him. Immediately, you noticed the bandage on his knee, but you chose not to ask yet. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Yuta."

He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged, not looking at you. "I've just- been studying too long. Needed to get away, you know? Plus Daniel's got a girl over, I'm kind of doing him a favor." he shut off the lamp on your desk, the only light left in the room from the streetlights outside.

"I know. You've been working hard all week. Did you eat today?"

"Yeah," He crawled on top of you, and you laid in a familiar position; his arms around you and head against your chest while you rubbed his back, playing with his hair. "Sorry I haven't texted you, just been busy..." he mumbled, arms squeezing tighter around you.

"Its fine, did you drink water?"

"Had to, we had practice for almost three hours." He answered as you pressed a kiss a kiss against his forehead.

"Three hours, in that heat?" you frowned, you shifted a bit so your legs were intertwined better.

"Only for like, half of that," he yawned. "Scraped my knee doing midfield stuff, though, that sucked."

"Poor baby."

"Its nothing, just Coach Mox's orders. Then I crashed for like two hours-"

"Is that why you weren't in history?"

"Yeah, then I ate and took a shower and studied-"

"Then you ran here."

"Yeah."

"Get some sleep then, and I'll help you tomorrow, okay?" You promised, giving his chin a scratch through his soft beard before moving back to his hair. He hesitated a bit before mumbling "okay".

You laid in silence, listening to the hum of the A/C and the sound of his breathing. Feeling him shift occasionally against you, nothing out of the usual.

Until you felt something against your leg.

"Wheels..." You said gently.

"I'm sorry."

"You want me to help you?"

"No, no. It'll go away. Fuck-" his breath hitched, the embarrassment in his voice cut off as you moved your thigh against him. "Babe-"

"You've been good, Wheels, you've had a long week. If you want something, just ask," you assured him, feeling him sigh against your chest.

"I don't know what I want." He sighed, obviously frustrated.

"Do you want me to give you head? Or a hand job? Do you need to fuck me, baby?"

After a few moments, he nodded.

"Use your words."

"I need- I wanna fuck you." He made to get up, and you pulled him back down for a kiss. His lips parted for you, with ease. His warm hands rubbed up and down your sides, groaning as you led him. After a bit, his mouth left yours, trailing down, beard tickling your neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin. He pulled away just in time, you had almost let a whine escape from your lips.

You looked at him, his soft brown eyes catching yours. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

"There it is." You pulled away and laid back down, listening to the sound of the bed creaking, as he got up to kneel between your legs. A warm hand went to your hip, making to grab your panties. You pulled it away. "Not without protection, Wheelie, you know that."

"I know. I wanna please you first, I gotta..." You caught his drift, guiding his hand back to your hip and letting him pull your panties off.

"Are you sure? You don't have to worry-"

"Yes, I do. I want to, I promise." Wheeler murmured. A knot formed in your stomach as hands touched your thighs, his breath over you as you put your legs on his shoulders.

"Be careful about your neck-"

"Don't worry about me, just lay back."

You nodded, ruffling his hair before doing as asked. "Ready?"

"Ready," he murmured, laying a kiss against your thigh. He went to work, face between your legs, kissing and licking at you until he made his way to your clit, applying intense pressure with his tongue before wrapping his lips around your clit.A whimper escaped as your lips as your hips bucked against his mouth, hand moving back to gently tug at his short hair.

"Can you breathe-are you- oh fuck." You arched your back, hand moving to the back of his head, pushing him forward. He continued to suck and moan against you, holding your hips in place with one hand while the other one reached between his legs to rub himself through his underwear.

He left your quickly hardening clit, trailing down to kiss you again and tease your entrance with his tongue, then moving back, barely giving you room to catch your breath, barely able to keep your eyes open. You struggled to keep your thighs from clenching around his head as he brought you closer the edge You shut your eyes, your twitching clit giving in as you dripped against his tongue, falling back agaisnst the mattress as the pleasure made you dizzy. You felt his hand leave your hip.

Wheeler pulled away. You opened your eyes, watching as he got back up to kneel between your legs again. His beard looked damp as he wiped the around his mouth. He pulled his hand away, revealing a smile. "It was that good, huh? I'm getting better at it, right?"

You nodded as you tried to catch your breath. "You did good, baby. Really good."

"Cool." He got off the bed and got on the floor, reaching underneath to open your trunk. "Do- do you want to use the lube too?"

"Yeah, " you said as you watched him stand up, tugging down his briefs. He got back on the bed, where he was before, sitting the lube down by his hip. You sat up and took the condom from his hand. You looked down at his cock, now free from the confines of his underwear. "Can I touch you?"

"Yeah," He said quickly, nodding his head. A whine slipped from his lips as carassed his sack, then moved up to tease the head of his cock with your fingers, spreading the precum around the tip. "Babe-" you hushed him with a kiss, pressing your lips against his for just a moment.

"We gotta keep it down 'cause it's late, remember?"He nodded as you pulled away to tear open the condom, gently pulling it down on and over him. "Good boy." You took the lube and opened it, pouring a bit in your hand to rub the cold gel against yourself. You gave it back to him and laid back down, spreading your legs.

You gripped the sheets as he entered you, his dick stretching you open and sinking into your wet heat. One hand gripped your hip while the other rest by your head to steady himself. "Can you put your legs up, on my should- yeah, like that. Does it feel good?"

"Yes." You nodded, shifting your hips. He bit his lip as he began to move, slowly rocking into you. You met his rhythm, reaching a hand between your legs to rub and tease yourself as he moved in you. Trying to pace himself with his strokes, though you knew he was aching for more.

"Feels good, feels so fucking good," Wheeler grunted as his hands move to grip your legs as he began to deepen his strokes.

You tossed your head back and shut your against your pillows as you applied more pressure against yourself. Your breath hitched and you moaned, his own pace quickening in you, the sound of his skin against yours soon echoing softly in the room. You tossed your head back and shut your as you applied more pressure against yourself.

"I know, I know- you feel so fucking..." He whined, bucking into you as you clenched around him. His hands moved to either side of you, gripping your sheets. You moved your legs, hooking them around his waist, hips now raised off the bed. You moved your hands to his back, nails digging in as you felt yourself getting closer to your climax.

You cried out as you came around him, as he lost himself, his thrusting getting slower until he went stiff, panting your name above you. A moment passed before he kissed your forehead, pulling out.

"I fucking needed that." He rested on top of you after disposing if the condom, and you snuggled against eachother once more.

"I know." you rubbed his back, struggling to keep your eyes open as you looked at the ceiling.

"I love you, Y/N," Wheeler mumbled.

"Love you too, now get some rest, babe." you whispered. Soon he drifted off to sleep, content and calm in your arms, and you soon followed.