#bcc polycule

more authors notes: I strongly urge anyone with issues reading about the experience of not being able to distinguish reality from not reality may not want to read this fic. Through out the work Yuta will be unable to remember a lot of things, and struggles with figuring out whats real and what isn't.

To be clear about some of the above tags: Yuta will be drugged during part of this fic. In other parts he will be popping pills. Yuta does not remember the events of the hospital, or that he was raped. He thinks its just a nightmare. During certain parts of this fic Yuta will fantasize about raping another character, and have dreams about being raped. Mox will mention his past with being raped in an erotic way. Yuta will be aroused by being raped.

I do feel it necessary to explain all of this since this is sensitive. I want people to enjoy this work about erotic rape and erotic abuse, not be hurt by it! (cringe shit I say but mean even though it's cringe).

+++

"Learning to perfect the ancient art of quiet rape, You've always been so warm and calculated, I owe you a thanks, Eyes wide shut, I promise not to fall awake, Lick the guillotine and tell you how the gasoline tastes, The grass is always greener on the other pesticide." --Eyedea & Abilities, 'Burn Fetish'

The house was always quiet. It never used to be like this, but then again there used to be a few more people around. Instead it’s just Yuta, living like a ghost in Bryan’s house. That’s what it is now. Just Bryan’s place. None of them had ever officially moved in but for some reason everyone mostly gravitated to staying there. Yuta just felt like a guest now.

Mostly Bryan was resting. Especially the first few days. There was a lot on his mentor’s mind as he tried to recover, there was a title to defend after all, but they weren’t really speaking. Sure Yuta asked what Bryan needed, how he was doing, what they would have to eat, and so on. Bryan answered. Sure they spoke here and there, but they didn't talk.

The thing was, Yuta knew he was acting strange. Lately everything made his skin crawl, every sound made him jump. Anything salty was likely to tip him into an anxiety attack. He felt like a shell of a person, terrified of nothing he could understand. Most of the time he was barely present. All day he spent checking on Bryan or training, at night he couldn’t sleep so he watched matches.

In the mirror Yuta could see the toll of sleeplessness. The nightmare plagued the young man even when he was awake. Every reiteration left Yuta with less memory, but more of a vivid feeling. Something that couldn’t be shaken off. Clinging to him like plastic, suffocating and uncomfortable.

There was so much Yuta couldn’t hide, and while he knew Bryan was recovering as well as dealing with his own trauma, the man never seemed to notice. For Yuta’s own health he had to write it off as Bryan just dealing with his own stuff. Sure, that was understandable. After all, it was Bryan who actually went through something.

“Hey, Wheeler?” Bryan’s still hoarse voice asked over the sound of cooking.

“Hm?” Yuta wasn’t actually listening, he was paying attention to the pan as he made dinner. Not really, he was actually completely zoned out.

“Why haven’t you been staying in the bed with me?” Bryan asked but he wasn’t looking at the younger man. There was a slight uncomfortableness to him even bringing it up.

“Hm.” Yuta just shrugged, not hearing the question.

“Yuta.” Bryan’s voice was louder, a little mad now. It snapped the other out of it.

“What? Sorry. My head’s somewhere else, Bryan,” Yuta admitted, glancing over to see how much he pissed his mentor off.

“Yeah. I noticed.” The slight snark to it made Yuta wince. “I just asked why you hadn’t been staying in the bed with me.”

“I…” Yuta put the spatula down so he could lean on the counter. “Just figured you needed space while you recovered.”

“Thoughtful of you,” Bryan mumbled sarcastically.

There was something that just snapped in Yuta. Hands balling up into fists as he tried to control himself. A few deep breaths until he was able to turn off the stove. Yuta turned sharply to face Bryan sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Honestly, I can’t fucking sleep, Bryan. I didn’t want to be keeping you up. So fuck you.” Yuta made sure he didn’t raise his voice, forcing the rage boiling inside of him to a simmer.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry.” Bryan got up to come hold Yuta. Normally it’d be sweet but today it made Yuta want to scream. “You are being thoughtful. I just…missed you in bed.”

“Oh…” Yuta shrank into the hug, putting his arms around the shorter man. “Sorry.”

“It’s a two way street, right?” Bryan kissed the younger man’s cheek. “Have you tried taking your Xanax before bed? They make you really sleepy.”

“Not really. They’re for panic attacks so I didn’t think about that,” Yuta admitted, realizing he could do that. “Fuck it. Haven’t slept since you were released. I’ll take one after dinner and we can go to sleep.”

“Only if you think it’ll help. It was just a suggestion.” Bryan finally let go.

“Yeah. I do think it’ll help.” Yuta nodded, sure that it couldn't hurt at least.

Right after they ate, Yuta took a pill before cleaning up the kitchen. Bryan said he had a little headache so he needed to lay down. That was fine, Yuta wasn’t too worried about it. For a while he’d work on the dishes and when he got too tired he’d go upstairs.

The slow ascent up the steps exhausted Yuta. Each foot weighed down by dread. Despite this being what he wanted from Bryan, wanting to be noticed in his own suffering, it just felt bad. Anxiety and worry were overpowering even the medication the closer he got to the bedroom.

It felt strange, almost dreamlike to walk into the bedroom. Everything was practically how it was the last time Yuta was here. Like a time capsule of before. The sheets were different than they had been before the weekend. It was jarring to see that none of Mox or Claudio’s scattered things weren’t thrown out or even put away.

Yuta was too exhausted to think about it as he sat on the edge of the bed, opposite where the sleeping Dragon laid. House shoes kicked off, Yuta slid into bed fully clothed. The room was cool but not cold enough for a hoodie, sweatpants, or even his socks. He made sure to stay out of the covers, pushing them over towards Bryan who was already asleep.

Even with the Xanax sleep was elusive. Every so often he’d nod off but he wouldn’t sleep. As the minutes ticked by, Yuta lost more and more patience. The room was too quiet; the sound of Yuta’s racing thoughts were loud like bumps on the mat. The temperature of the room seemed to fluctuate between way too hot and slightly too cold.

In an act of frustration Yuta fished the pill bottle out of his pocket. Shaking out two more light blue pills to go into his mouth. There had to be relief somewhere, right now it looked like it might be at the bottom of the bottle. Yuta remembered Mox half jokingly telling him that if he chewed the pills up they’d hit faster, so he did that.

To balance out the advice from the other man, Yuta started doing some of the breathing exercises Bryan taught him. Slowly things started to even out as the combination of breathing and chewing the pills sent the tingling of calm. Closing his eyes, Yuta was finally met with darkness instead of ghosts.

+++

As soon as Yuta woke up he knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the same bedroom he had fallen asleep in. As he looked around, heart beating out of his chest he realized that he was at…Claudio’s place? It was the guest bedroom that nobody really used. Except most of Yuta’s things were there. Everything that was important to him seemed to be in the room.

Panic was flooding the young man as he got out of the bed, the covers were thrown back violently. Yuta ran towards the door, but his heart sank when the handle didn’t move.

“What the fuck, what the fuck.” Yuta rushed around the room but couldn’t figure out what he was looking for.

It felt like hours went by, but Yuta ran out of steam early. It seemed impossible. Everything was surreal. Like the fact there was a bathroom he didn’t remember from before. The door was heavy and he knew he wouldn't be able to get it open. He thought there was a window in this room but it was nowhere to be found.

A loud knock came at the door finally. The silence had lulled Yuta into a dreamlike state and the noise made him jump up to his feet, stumbling slightly. The hinges to the door didn’t make any noise as it opened. On the other side was Mox, a big grin on his face as he strolled inside. Jeans slung low with a sway to his hips. No shirt for some reason, giving Yuta a glorious view of his hairy chest.

“Hey, kid. Glad you’re up. Feeling okay?” Mox didn’t seem to mind the door latching behind him as he got closer. “Gave you a bit to cal--”

“What the fuck is this, Jon?!” Yuta shouted, so much anger welling up.

“Um…it’s the thing you wanted, man. I didn’t decide on this. I didn’t come up with it, or let myself be here. You wanted this.” Mox frowned, a look of hurt coming across his face. “Remember? At the hospital when we talked about this?”

“What? What hospital? I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about, Jon!” Yuta snapped. “Why are my drums here? Why is my computer here? All my clothes, books, movies, what the hell is this! Answer me!”

“Fucking christ. You gotta calm the fuck down. We got your fuckin’ pills too.” Mox pointed towards the nightstand. “If you relax, I’ll refresh your damn memory.”

“Calm down? You’ve got me locked in some damn room--” Yuta’s fists balled up as he contained his rage at being cut off.

“Just shut up for a minute.” Mox waved him off. “When we were at the hospital in Chicago we talked about how we wanted to keep you locked up, free to use whenever we wanted, the only time we let you out is to go wrestle.”

“Wha…” Yuta’s brain was flooded with all that memory. “We didn’t agree-- I didn’t--”

“We all know this is exactly where you want to be.” Mox sighed as he glanced back at the door. “I’ll go, if you still need to adjust. I just wanted to get my dick wet, honestly.”

“You just wanted to get your fucking dick wet? Do you hear yourself?!” Yuta took a step closer.

“I hear myself, kid. I know exactly what’s going on.” Mox’s face darkened as he stepped closer too. The threatening action made Yuta pause. “This is the whole reason you’re here. It’s what you’re good for. So I can go, give you more time to relax, but the longer you make me wait the worse it gets.”

The hospital came to mind as the threat set in. The violent violation by his fellow faction mates allowed cracks to form in Yuta, hairline fractures that weakened him as a whole. Mox knew that, even if Yuta didn’t. A little pressure on the right part would cause him to shatter. Being blindsided by his own mental state, Yuta just stared. How could this be real? Surely Bryan would notice he was missing or something?

One large hand landed on Yuta’s shoulder, moving around to the back of his neck. Gripping, holding tight but it wasn’t rough. Mox wasn’t hurting him, just pulling him closer and closer.

“Bryan ain’t coming to find you. You’ve already been gone for three days, kid.” Mox spoke quietly, slowly like he was breaking bad news.

“No, no. That’s…Bryan wouldn’t…” Yuta started to shake his head but he knew it was true. He knew that Bryan may not even notice he was missing because his mentor didn’t really care.

“I could give you your phone right now and there wouldn’t be a missed call or text from daddy.” Mox tacked on the last part just to be cruel, to really drive it home. That broke Yuta more as he started crying. “You don’t got a match for a while either, so no one at work is wonderin’.”

“Jon, please,” Yuta begged as everything inside of him crumbled.

“So, is it now or later? I’m getting impatient here.” Mox sighed as he let go, finally looking away.

Yuta stared at the older man as the gravity of the situation started to sink in. This was his new world. It felt insane to just drop to his knees but what other choice did he have? Eventually they’d just take what they wanted from him; that much Yuta learned the night at the hospital. At least he could save himself some pain maybe if he just sank to his knees now.

+++

The bedroom was bright and sunny, a window open to hear nature’s tune. Light sparkled through the currents. Sheets and comforters cocooned Yuta in the empty bed. It was hard to orient himself but Yuta focused on slowing down his breathing. Something was making the bed shake, it took a moment for Yuta to realize it was him.

Shaking like a leaf would be an understatement. Yuta was trembling. Even being all wrapped up, with the addition of his heavy choice in pajamas, didn’t stop it. In fact Yuta could feel himself sweating profusely, his heart jackhammering like he’d just spent an hour running the ropes.

As everything eased back into reality, Yuta was able to slowly get out of the bedding. The clothes he wore to bed were drenched in sweat, but at least it wasn’t on the bed. Cool air ran past his body but did little to quell the heat.

Once Yuta was up on his feet he noticed how bad he felt. Maybe he’d caught something. His throat felt raw and scratchy, all his joints were aching, and he had a headache despite just waking up. The clothes were sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

The hoodie was stripped first, tossed to the side as socked feet took Yuta to the bathroom. It was too bright but Yuta couldn’t do anything about it. His balance had yet to even out so he held onto the sink as he walked by, glancing at his ghostly form in the mirror.

Cold water ran into the sink, swirling down the drain as Yuta started at himself. He looked awful. Even though he slept his eyes still had bags under them, he was pale, and looked vaguely sick. Yuta could admit the look in his eyes was bad, he looked like he’d given up. Something was broken inside of him but he had no idea what.

At this point Yuta couldn’t remember basically anything from the nightmare he’d had at the hospital. Now he could barely recall the one that had just happened. It was starting to really piss him off that he just had no recollection of the things haunting him, he couldn't see them so he couldn’t deal with them.

“Stress, huh.” Yuta rolled his eyes, remembering the nurse expressing concern about his stress.

Finally, Yuta bent down to wash his face off. The cool water added a refreshing relief. Everything else started cooling down too. Getting all the grime and sweat off his face made Yuta feel significantly more human.

“Where is Bryan?” Yuta muttered to himself as he dried off his hands.

It wasn’t like Bryan was supposed to be anywhere. Bed rest had been prescribed for nearly a week. The first thing Yuta did was find his phone on the bedside table. The battery was low since the night before he hadn’t cared much if his phone was charged. The display didn’t have any messages, nothing from his mentor.

There was the possibility that Bryan was somewhere downstairs but after a quick sweep there was no one. Not even in the garden. Both of their cars were there, which was good since Bryan wasn’t supposed to be driving.

It annoyed Yuta to wake up alone. No message or indicator of where his injured partner was at. Of course Bryan just took off, that was just what he was good at. Yuta groaned to himself as he tried to back track that line of thought. After all, Bryan probably just didn’t want to wake him up since he knew Yuta hadn’t been sleeping. Not that it was even good sleep. Yuta felt more tired than he had the day before.

After some contemplation Yuta decided to just go take a shower. That would probably do him some good, right, and he’d find some fresh clothes too.

+++

The hot water cascaded over Yuta’s body while he ducked under the spray. It was probably too hot, his skin already taking on a pink tone. Something needed to be washed away, even if Yuta couldn’t articulate what it was that he needed to clean off himself.

Ever since the PPV it was like a layer of filth was stuck to Yuta’s skin. Each shower did nothing to rid him of the disgusting feeling. Something was weaving its way through his skin, sewing patches of filth over the cracks. Every pore felt like it was seeping and oozing.

Without looking, Yuta reached over to the shelf to grab body wash. A few bottles clattered over, one even rolling off. It stayed at the bottom of the shower; Yuta was too preoccupied to care. The faded red washcloth was lathered up quickly, and taken to his own skin like sandpaper.

Every inch of tan skin was scrubbed red raw. The strong smell of sandalwood emanated from the suds, a tiny hint of vanilla. It was hypnotic, and Yuta paused with his chest and arms done. The bubbles were washed off patches of raw skin as the smell lingered, assaulting Yuta’s memories like a punching bag.

“Fuck, Mox.” Yuta’s moans echoed in the tiled shower.

Yuta could recall the scent well. Even during training, all sweaty and wet, Yuta could smell the lingering notes of sandalwood and vanilla on Mox. It was one of the things he loved when Mox would cuddle up to him or sit too close. Comfortable and safe, until a few days prior.

Looking down, Yuta saw himself getting hard at the memories of Mox. Strong muscle, coarse hair, and the smell. Cigarettes, sandalwood, and just a little vanilla. As Yuta’s cock filled out his mind brought up images of Mox, but he fixated on a memory he had of the other man.

Hand on his cock Yuta envisioned Mox, in some nondescript hotel room with sheets to match. Sometimes if Mox was tired enough he’d fall asleep in his towel after a shower. Laying face down on the bed, Mox’s back glistened, still damp and warmed from the water. Yuta thought about all the details.

The way Mox’s scars caught water, how his body hair dried. The way the sleeping man had both arms under his head as a pillow. One foot slightly off the bed. Peaceful slumber painted his face as Yuta stepped closer and closer. One hand undoing his belt, quietly pulling it through each loop.

The tantalizing scene in Yuta’s head played out as he stroked his throbbing cock. A light hand worked his shaft so he didn’t get too excited. This was a fantasy he wanted to actually experience instead of rush through. It wasn’t something he’d ever indulged with before now, and he didn’t know why that changed.

In his mind Yuta started undoing the button and zipper of his jeans as he got to the hotel bed. One knee planted between Mox’s legs as he reached up to bring the other man’s hands down. It took a few seconds to thread his belt around Mox’s wrist until he was tied up.

“Yoots?” Mox muttered, his tired face turning towards the younger man.

“Yeah, Mox?” Yuta started to peel the towel back to reveal one of the best asses he’d ever seen. Thick muscles sculpted into two beautiful globes. “So hot.”

“Wha’s up?” Mox shook his wrists, sleepiness still affecting his judgment.

“Don’t worry about that, baby,” Yuta assured the other as he moved around.

“‘Kay.” Mox let his head fall back onto the bed, eyes closing because of the trust he had in his young boy.

Yuta mounted Mox with ease, his cock slipping between the other’s cheeks. The rush of power and euphoria made Yuta’s head spin. There was a slight grunt from Mox as the weight settled down and the rough material of jeans scratched his skin. It didn’t matter, not to Yuta, and neither did the uncomfortable position his prey was in.

Below him there was some shifting from Mox as he realized how uncomfortable the position felt. A slight strain of the back and tensing of muscles let Yuta know the other was exactly where he wanted. Hands started tracing the damp scars, finding nonexistent patterns and shapes.

“Hm?” Mox tried to look back.

“Ready for me, baby?” Yuta grunted as he sat up on his knees, pushing the other’s legs further apart.

“No? I don’t…wha?” Mox shook his head as he felt the pressure against his hole.

No lube or prep went into it. It took a lot of effort to push in, and when he did Mox howled in pain. The belt was tugged and pulled but kept Mox immobilized as Yuta fucked into him. It felt so good, Yuta thought, as he slammed into the man below him.

“Fuck! Wheeler!” Mox cried out. “Please!”

“Please what, bitch?” Yuta was breathless, losing all composure.

“Stop!” Mox cried. “It hurts. Please?”

“Stop? You want me to stop?” Yuta breathlessly spoke as he leaned over Mox’s back. “No. I’m taking what’s mine.”

The hot water of the shower washed the seed away as Yuta came hard into his hand. It was good, even satisfying, Yuta realized as he came down from the euphoria. The fantasy stayed there, playing more even after Yuta finished. Thinking about the way Mox would fight back, wiggling to get away maybe. The violence of the situation made Yuta feel like he could go again.

Before he could delve more into this newly uncovered fantasy, the bathroom door opened. Yuta jumped, turning to look even though the glass of the door was fogged over. The place was filled with steam from the too hot shower, even wiping the glass didn’t help. For some reason Yuta’s anxiety ramped up thinking it was maybe Mox or Claudio, he wasn’t exactly sure why that also made him even more horny.

“Wheeler?” Bryan’s voice called. “You better be in there. That’s a lot of water to wa--”

“I’m here. Yeah.” Yuta squeaked, quickly reaching out to turn the temperature down. “Are you okay? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I’m good.” Bryan’s cheerful voice played over the rushing of water. “I went for a run af--”

Yuta threw the door of the shower open frantically.

“You went for a run? Bryan, you’re not cleared!” Yuta shouted, suddenly unreasonably angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? After what happ--”

“Wheeler, Wheeler. Relax.” Bryan frowned. “I went this morning while you slept after I got medically cleared to start training again. I’m fine.”

“That was today?” Yuta looked the other man over. Seeing his boyfriend in running gear made his stomach knot up. “I-I was supposed to go with you.”

“It was just a doctor’s appointment. You were asleep finally so I didn’t wake you up. Wheeler, you’ve got a match soon and you’ve not slept at all.” Bryan cocked his head to the side. “You don’t even know what day it is.”

“I-I-” Yuta closed his eyes tightly as he tried to focus and figure out what the fuck was happening.

“You’re wasting water, Wheeler,” Bryan pointed out with disappointment.

“Sorry.” Yuta turned to get back in so he could turn the water off completely. “I just wanted to be there, Bryan.” The fluffy blue towel wrapped around Yuta’s waist as he hung his head.

“You leave tonight for Ohio,” Bryan sighed as he finished undressing.

“I do?” Yuta considered the days, frowning at the mirror. When had he lost so many days? “Uh, wh-who am I--?”

“Fuck. You don’t even know? I need you to focus, Wheeler, okay? Do you understand me?” Bryan’s stern voice felt like a cheese grater. “You’re wrestling Anthony Henry in Ohio on Collision.”

“Okay. Well.” Yuta shrugged, finally standing up right. “I can beat Henry.”

“Not if you’re going to be this distracted. Not knowing what day it is, who you’re matched up against, not training, not sleeping. You’re going to forget your boots too.” Bryan rolled his eyes.

“Fuck you. I’ve been--” Yuta paused, unable to articulate anything.

“You’ve been what, Wheeler?” Bryan shook his head. “You’ve been distracted. Figure it out. You can’t let what happened distract you. Got it?”

The nerve of Bryan saying that struck something in Yuta. For a moment he just stared at the other man, trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe Bryan was in denial or something, Yuta couldn’t just ask. Neither one of them was ready to talk about it. Clearly.

“Got it.” Yuta nodded curtly before exiting the bathroom.

+++

Traveling alone, to Ohio no less, was a tough experience. Even though Yuta had traveled by himself before this felt different. This was alone. There wasn’t going to be anyone waiting for him here or on the connecting flight, not at the hotel or even the arena. Even Bryan couldn’t do the drop off since he wasn’t supposed to be driving yet.

Not that Bryan seemed to want to take his prodigy. That was something Yuta had to just chalk up to Bryan still being messed up from Chicago. That was what he had to keep telling himself about a lot of things.

The whole trip was numbing. No excitement or anxiety bubbling up. Granted that could have been the excess of pills he had been taking. By the time Yuta got into his hotel room he was ready to pass out. At least he hoped he was, because he still hadn’t slept. The night before didn’t count because he woke up still exhausted.

In the morning Yuta had to get up to work out, something he promised his mentor. Now he was thinking about just skipping it. No one would notice. Sleeping was probably more important. Another pill was popped while the rest sat on the bedside table.

Despite best efforts, Yuta tossed and turned unable to fully rest. There weren’t any vivid, unrememberable nightmares this time. Small things to be thankful for, he thought while staring at the shadows passing across the ceiling. Yuta tried not to think about how the morning would come soon, leaving him unrested for his match.

Yuta let his mind wander since nothing else was working. Slowly his eyes drifted closed to the fantasy he had about Mox while in the shower. The way Mox looked while struggling, the sounds he was making. It was easy to conjure up the scene, after all Yuta knew Mox pretty well at this point.

It had never occurred to Yuta he may have a rape kink, but here he was fantasizing about just that. Yuta also didn’t take long, just thinking about Mox begging him to stop sending him over. Come spilled over into his hand with a grunt, still thinking about forcing Mox.

Getting up was out of the question so Yuta just cleaned himself off with his t-shirt. The smear of come across the old BCC logo wasn’t lost on him. Settling back in Yuta realized he was still thinking about it. What would it be like to force such a strong man? Make him beg and cry?

As Yuta pondered just those things he started to drift off, finding peace as he fell asleep. Actually fell asleep, and the sleep was good. Relief and recovery flooded Yuta, he was sure he could have slept for days if not for the courtesy call from the front desk. The one Bryan made him set up just to be sure Yuta got some training in and didn’t oversleep.

Training was the last thing the young man wanted to do. The hotel gym was empty since it was so early. Yuta tried to motivate himself through the workout by telling himself he could go straight back to bed until it was show time. There just wasn't anything there. No drive or focus.

“I can beat Henry,” Yuta mumbled to himself.

The reflection from the mirror caught the haunted look. The stress, pain, and disconnection all etched into his face. Exhaustion stayed creeping around the edges, threatening to reinvade. Breaks in the mask that Yuta put on for everyone else, little fractures that would soon become a serious threat.

Considering how he had been eating lately, which was nothing at all, Yuta realized he needed to eat if he was going to wrestle tonight. Even though Yuta wasn't hungry he figured that could be why he looked so terrible. There wasn’t much he had been eating lately. Once up in his room Yuta called for room service, ordering a decent sized breakfast and coffee. The likelihood of him eating everything was slim but at least there would be coffee.

By the time the bell boy came by with Yuta’s breakfast he was showered and watching some movie. After handing off the tip Yuta sat down as the guy left the room. None of the food looked that good to him as he stared down what he ordered. After heavy consideration the coffee and the waffles were taken first. Settling back on the couch to watch the movie, so he had a distraction while he ate.

“Nothing?” The head FBI agent asked in the movie.

“Nothing,” the main guy responded.

“Go home, kid. Get the hell outta here. Get some sleep. You look like shit. They get anything even resembles your guy, I'm on your beeper. Here. You like feta?” The boss agent was offering food to the main guy.

“Feta. My favorite.”

Yuta wasn’t paying much attention, but he realized he’d seen this movie a lot. Like a lot. Enough to remember most of the lines.

“Johnny…” the boss agent said as Yuta finally looked up at the screen, drinking his lukewarm hotel coffee. “All I wanna know is one thing, why didn't you just take the shot?”

“I don't know,” Johnny responded.

“I see why Mox thinks this movie is hot,” Yuta mumbled against the ceramic edge of the cup as the next scene rolled around.

Most of the coffee was gone so quick, Yuta figured it was time to dive into the food. Nothing looked good, but nothing had for days now. The first bite of waffle was actually fantastic. Yuta moaned softly as he started eating quicker. The sweet fluffiness filled Yuta up. New life came over him as he felt warmer and happier as soon as the food hit his stomach.

Even Yuta’s anxiety and depression were lifting. The slow, deep ache he was constantly feeling started to recede. Weight was taken from his shoulders allowing him to actually relax, sinking into the couch as the movie flashed interestingly in front of him. Food practically forgotten about, his entire existence changed.

The couch was breaking away leaving Wheeler feeling like he was floating in water. Gently drifting along the surface in the calm, cool currents. Waves gently rolling onto the beach. A liquid lull that nearly pulled Yuta into blessed sleep. Eyes and body getting heavier like sand washing up on the shore.

The movie played on regardless of Yuta’s state. Mesmerizing colors traced across the scene. As the weight of exhaustion dragged Yuta down he finally drifted off for a moment, thinking about how he needed to set an alarm. Just in case he overslept, but he couldn't will his body into action.

Just as the last bit of consciousness left Yuta he could have sworn he heard the mechanical lock whirling to life on the door. Someone was coming into the hotel room. Even the threat of an unknown person in the room couldn’t motivate Yuta into doing anything more than tip his head to the side to try to see.

“Hey, you’re watching my favorite movie, prince.” Mox’s voice floated through Yuta’s psyche.

+++

Stress. It was all the stress. Like the nurse had said back when Bryan was in the hospital, stress is a very serious thing. This was another stress nightmare. That was the only way Yuta could accept what was happening. Even everything felt the same as that night, as fleeting as Yuta’s memory was of that event.

Slowly waking up to a much darker hotel, it was difficult for Yuta to adjust. The TV was still playing the movie, the food was still out, and he was still on the couch. Somehow it felt different, even looked a little different. Like a dream.

Just like a dream Mox was standing there. Beautifully basked in the glow of his preferred movie, attention captivated by the moving frames. The three quarter profile really showed Mox off to Yuta as he scanned over the shirtless frame of his boyfriend (yes, ex). The trim waist made Mox’s ass pop. Yuta’s eyes hovered over the thick muscles of the other man’s backside before moving up to examine his abs and the way muscle flexed around Mox’s ribcage, and perfectly defined pecs covered in wiry hair.

On screen the final fight between the two guys played, Mox’s eyes locked onto the image. While Patrick Swazye and Keanu Reeves backdropped each other, Mox started undoing his jeans. There was an audible sigh from the pseudo king at the relief. The light blue jockstrap peeked out from under the jeans slipping down his hips.

“This has gotta be a dream,” Yuta muttered as he let his head fall back.

“There’s my prince.” Mox easily tore his eyes away from the screen to smile at his young boy, preferring Yuta to his own favorite movie.

“Wha’s goin’ on, Jon?” Yuta hated not being able to speak well, his words bleeding out at the ends.

“You have a match tonight,” Mox mentioned as he walked around to stand over the other. “You almost done?”

“Wha?” Yuta blinked a few times before he heard another voice.

“One minute and I’ll be finished, King.” Claudio’s voice came from behind the couch.

“Wha’ the fuck?” Yuta jumped, trying to move but nothing moved. In fact something pulled.

“Don’t start that, sweetheart.” Mox reached out to run his fingers through Yuta’s hair, pacifying the panic with affection. “Claudio’s just making sure you’re secure, then it’ll be just the two of us.”

“Jus’ t’two of us?” Yuta blinked up at the other man. Feelings came back to him as he remembered the hospital, instead of being afraid he was confused and horny. Just like now.

“Finished.” Claudio’s voice came over the room once more.

“That was exactly one minute.” Mox grinned over the couch at the other.

“I know,” Claudio acknowledged as he walked around to look at the young man on the couch. “We didn’t want you to strain yourself before your match.”

Mox nodded along, hand coming up to cup the back of Claudio’s head to pull him down for a kiss. Just as they had at the hospital the pair bit more than kissed. Mox did all the biting as he bit into Claudio’s mouth until the larger man bled. There wasn’t as much red as there had been but Claudio wore it proudly, stars lighting up his eyes as he looked down at Mox.

“You’re good,” Mox muttered against the other’s lips.

“I am?” Claudio’s whisper made Yuta feel like this was a moment he wasn’t supposed to experience. It felt odd, out of place. It kind of made the younger man feel even more like he was in a fever dream.

“You are.” Mox placed the larger man’s hand over the tacky cross necklace he had been wearing.

“Thank you, King.” Claudio bowed his head to the other man before starting to step back, but the ‘King’ stopped him.

“If you’d like to say anything to him, give him a little something.” Mox nodded towards Yuta. “Want him to remember who cares about him after all.”

“It is your night--” Claudio shook his head humbly as if he couldn’t even consider taking this time away from his king.

“Remember when it comes to the prince, he’s ours,” Mox insisted.

Yuta was sure he was in some sort of fever dream now. It wasn’t just the fog in his brain. It wasn’t often Claudio was vulnerable like that, in so few words. To Yuta that wasn’t something his old boyfriend would do. Or maybe he was just in denial about what was happening? Thoughts raced back and forth until Claudio came over.

“Sweetheart.” Claudio knelt down, one knee on the carpet just like a knight paying respect.

“Claudio?” Yuta felt teary eyed for some reason.

“I want you to know something very important.” Claudio made sure they kept eye contact, making sure their young boy was listening. “You are an incredible wrestler. Accept your violence. I can tell no one has been taking care of you during this time.” There was a pause where the Swiss giant had to collect himself. “I know you must be exhausted, but you have tonight under control.”

“Wha’?” Yuta recoiled at the faithful trust the other still had in him.

“You can beat Henry any day of the week, under any conditions. I know you can because I trained you.” Claudio bowed his head. “Do not let anyone make you believe you can’t handle what you’re doing tonight. You’ll win, sweetheart.”

“I-I-” Yuta felt himself start to cry a little. Crisp, high emotions soared through every space in his body as the words being directed towards him. “--love you.”

“I love you too.” Claudio leaned forward to catch the other’s lips in a sickeningly sweet kiss sealed in the older man’s blood. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

The tall man stood up from his place kneeling in front of Yuta. Walking away towards the door like a ghost leaving the scene of a haunting. Every weird, strange feeling Yuta had been grappling with welled up like a tsunami, crashing against the sides of his skull. Yuta felt like he might drown in it.

Suddenly it all stopped. Calm waters washed over the shores. Yuta felt himself coming back down from the emotional high. The strange confessional left Yuta heartbroken and motivated in what he previously considered wrong directions. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.

At some point it permeated Yuta that Claudio had been tying him up. The crafty freak was able to tie him down. Arms stretched over the back of the coarse hotel couch, wrists tied. There was just enough slack to not strain him. Both ankles were tied in some web Yuta couldn’t figure out. Probably anchored to the feet of the couch, but he wasn’t exactly sure.

What Yuta was sure about was that he was naked. All the clothes he had been wearing seemed to have vanished when he woke up. Not only was he nude, but his cock laid half hard against his thigh. Clearly interested in whatever this was, after all he had been jerking off to the reverse of this not long ago. (Maybe it was a wet dream, Yuta tried to convince himself).

“Hey, baby.” Mox smiled fondly as he walked over to his young boy. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’ know.” Yuta admitted as his eyes honed in on the other man’s crotch. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“I just wanted to see you before your match,” Mox admitted, a little shrug. “Been thinkin’ about you.”

“Huh.” Yuta couldn’t think of much more to say because Mox looked genuine. The cute puppy quality to the man’s eyes was there. It was the first hint Yuta really saw of his old boyfriend.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now. Everything seems too big and terrifying, I’m sure. Just trust us, okay?” Mox was in nothing but the jock that Yuta was pretty sure he got for the pseudo king. “I wanted it to be just the two of us right now.”

“Trust you?” Yuta laughed at that, maybe that wasn’t fair in such a tender moment but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah. Trust us.” Mox frowned, reaching out to stroke Yuta’s beard. It was untamed at the moment. “Same way you trust Claudio to do your beard on match days.”

“I donno,” Yuta admitted, his eyes growing soft and heavy until he let them close. It was nice to feel affection again that didn’t make his skin crawl.

“That’s okay. I know. Claudio knows.” Mox let his hand drop to the back of the couch so he could move onto the couch himself, settling right on top of his young boy’s lap. “You’re ours, Wheeler. You belong with us. Sooner you realize that the better.”

There were too many words swimming around so Mox leaned in to kiss Yuta softly. Easy and calm, nothing like Yuta was expecting. Their lips danced together, tongues meeting. It was so good, lighting everything up for the younger man as he gave himself over. Slowly Mox started rocking his hips, allowing Yuta to rub his cock against the exposed ass on top of him.

Soft moans were exchanged as they both got into it. The ropes tugged when Yuta tried to move to touch the beautiful body above him. Mox snickered a little at Yuta’s whine. Large hands started to explore since the younger man clearly wanted to. Some kind of denial torment that made Yuta’s pulse quicken. Just the right kind of touches to really stir his appetite.

The hands stayed gentle as Mox’s mouth descended on his young boy’s neck. The rough bites and nips were playful. It felt good enough that Yuta tipped his head to the side so that the other had more skin. Mox was easily entertained, much like a puppy with a new chew toy, just gnawing at the hard muscles.

“Been worried about ya.” Mox finally stopped the oral assault to speak. “Like our big guy said, no one’s been taking care of you.”

“M’fine,” Yuta muttered, his hips rolling as his aching erection called for more attention.

“Don’t lie to me.” Mox cupped the younger man’s cheek, making them see eye to eye. “You don’t have to.”

“I--” Yuta’s head was so foggy he had no idea what he was thinking. “Dreamed o’you?”

“Asking or telling me that, kid?” Mox sat up, shifting back on the lap he was perched on.

“Tellin’.” Yuta blinked a few times, willing the haze to go away. “Oh fuck, Mox.”

A wet, warm hand wrapped around Yuta’s aching dick, a light squeeze that sent sparks all over his body. He felt heightened. Just that touch nearly had Yuta ending prematurely. The gentle glide of Mox’s hand was all he could focus on anymore.

“Feel good, baby?” Mox grinned, leaning in for another kiss. This time it was quicker. “Tell me your dream.”

“Ah. Dreamin’ righ’ now.” Yuta shrugged, or at least attempted to.

“That what it feels like, Wheeler? You’re dreamin’?” Mox questioned.

“Yeah. It’s ’ll warm an’ soft.” Yuta moaned at the skilled way the other knew his way around the cock in hand. “Feels good.”

“Tell me about your dream, sweetheart.” Mox returned to the topic at hand.

“S’not very nice,” Yuta admitted.

“Good. I like it when you’re mean.” Mox let go of his young boy’s cock.

“No,” Yuta whined and opened his eyes.

“Relax. Tell me the dream anyways.” Mox pushed as he repositioned himself over the hard dick he just had in his hand.

“Fuck, Mox.” Yuta was paying more attention as he felt the head of his cock press against Mox’s wet hole. Slight pressure. “Please, please, Wanna fuck you again…”

“You will, sweet prince. You will.” Mox groaned loudly, totally unashamed as he slowly took Yuta’s cock.

“It-- I--” Yuta could’t focus but he wanted to answer. Actually wanted to reveal himself to his tormentor.

“That’s it, Wheeler, fuck. You fill me so fuckin’ good.” Mox let out a sigh of relief as he seated himself fully on the younger man.

“R-Raped you,” Yuta confessed as they looked into each other’s eyes, deeply connected via each other’s bodies.

It wasn't just that Yuta saw how much that turned on Mox. He could feel it too. The insanely tight passage clenched around Yuta’s cock. There was a slight swivel of hips too. The aggressive hunger on Mox’s face pried more details out of the younger man.

“T-Tied your hands…up.” Yuta bit his lip as the man in his lap started moving. “W-With…my belt.”

“Fuck, Wheeler, I’m--” Mox shook his head as he started to really fuck himself. “I wish you had.”

“Fucked,” Yuta said breathlessly, not able to put the phrase together without a pause. “Dry.”

“Bet you did.” Mox groaned, one of his hands lacing through Yuta’s locks at the back of his head. “Fucked me dry until I cried, huh?” The hand tightened, pulling the younger man’s head back hard. “That’s so fuckin’ hot, you don’t even know.”

“It is?” Yuta couldn’t believe that but he thought it was hot obviously.

“Fuck, yeah. You wanna rape me, Wheeler? Make me your bitch? Maybe pay me back for all the shit I did?” Mox grinned at the wide eyed look directed at him.

“Yes!” Yuta nearly found himself shouting, trying to thrust up into Mox but finding little room.

“I want you to too,” Mox confessed right in Yuta’s ear.

Yuta felt his eyes roll back in his head. It was too much. Everything was too hot again. There was a burning inside of the young man, a need to take something back. All he wanted was to be able to break free of the ropes and throw Mox onto the floor. Hell, it seemed like even Mox wanted that. But the ropes didn’t budge. Of course not, Yuta thought to himself, this was exactly where he wanted to be after all.

For some reason Mox started to slow down. A slow, gradual rocking of the hips. It was good, teasingly tender and Yuta wanted to cry. This soft side was too reminiscent of before. Mox’s head was practically resting on Yuta’s shoulder, so the younger man tipped his head in to nuzzle Mox. There was a soft hum of approval that made Yuta smirk as he bit down hard on whatever he could find.

Mox growled in pain as he stopped moving. One rough hand landed on Yuta’s neck while he latched onto the underside of Mox’s jaw. The hand started to squeeze. At first Yuta thought Mox was about to choke him, but that wasn’t it. There was pressure at the bottom of Yuta’s jaw making him slowly unclench his jaw. The way one would do to a dog.

“Disappointing.” Mox grunted as he set up but kept a hand on his captive’s neck. Checking his own neck he touched the bite mark only to find saliva. “No blood?”

“I--” Yuta tried to say something, what he wasn’t sure of, but thankfully Mox stopped him before he needed to think of more words. The hand on his neck moved to tightly hold his chin. “Huh?”

“If you’re gonna hurt me, Wheeler,” Mox grunted as he wiped the spit off his neck onto his hand, “At least make it worth it. Make me bleed. I know you’re better than this.” Mox wiped the bit of spit across Yuta’s face. “You’ve made me bleed plenty of times. C’mon.”

“Fuck…you.” Yuta growled, tugging again at the ropes. “If--If not-- I’m tied down!”

“And I gave you the perfect opportunity to rip my throat out. Take it.” Mox growled.

Something inside Yuta woke up, a fire rekindled. Mox was right. He was capable of hurting the man on top of him, even bound, there were plenty of times Yuta was able to inflict violence. The first thought was to headbutt but they were too far apart with too little slack. Instead Yuta worked up all the spit he could. The medium sized glob landed on Mox’s cheek, catching in the ginger beard hairs.

“Atta boy.” Mox grinned down at his captive. “That’s what we want outta you.”

“Little closer,” Yuta said as he bared his teeth. “I’ll show you more.”

“You better, kid.” Mox winked.

Their lips met suddenly, a hard crash of teeth that pushed Yuta’s head back. The wet spot on the other man’s cheek smeared across Yuta’s darker beard. Tension amped as Mox prepared himself for whatever the younger man was going to do, but Yuta just kissed back.

Slowly Mox untensed, his body going slack as he started to ride his young boy again. The hand on Yuta’s jaw went lax too. An opportunity happened the moment Mox gave up on there being some sort violence. Without hesitation Yuta bit hard into the other man’s lip.

The taste of rich copper was well known to the both of them. Mox gave an initial jerk but Yuta didn’t let go. Sharp teeth dug in deeper the louder the older man moaned. It was hard but Yuta tried his best to buck his hips too. The little bit of room was just enough to send his message.

Blood was in Yuta’s beard now. Instead of pulling away Mox tried to lean in, less tension but it just gave Yuta the opportunity to latch onto another part of the torn lip. For a brief moment Yuta wished he would be able to inflict enough damage to cause stitches, but he doubted he could do that in his current state. Still he tried. His cock throbbed each time he heard the pained whimper from Mox.

One of Mox’s hands was on his own dick, while the other was pushing on Yuta’s shoulder again. Trying to create space or end their bloody kiss all together. It wasn’t going to be on Mox’s terms though. The more the older man tried to get out of the kiss the more Yuta kept his hold firm.

The static electric pleasure was bouncing off the both of them, wiring them together. Against his stomach Yuta could feel how rough Mox was being with his own dick. Hips moving up and down in quick, little motions that were driving Yuta insane but probably did wonders for Mox. Finally Mox dragged his hand over to Yuta’s throat and started to squeeze. A warning to let go.

Yuta did not let go. There was no warning he was willing to heed at this point. He snarled as the hand gripped tighter. The throb of Yuta’s pulse rushed in his ears, keeping time with the ache in his cock. Buried deep inside the man choking him, that man’s blood between them. They fucked as they fought, struggling in a strange display of parallel dominance.

Stars started sparkling in Yuta's vision as darkness carved out the edges. Carefully breathing through the choking was ingrained in the young man, but it was eventually too much. Mox’s bloodied mouth was released, Yuta’s head falling back as he searched for air. Once released Mox let go of his young boy’s neck.

The entire time Mox had his hand on his dick. After a few seconds Yuta could barely open his eyes, looking up at the pseudo king. Red smeared, some even dripping. Mox looked so pleased, so turned on. Finally the hand on his dick stopped only to come up to collect some blood and reach back into his jock.

“Fuck,” Yuta muttered, opened-mouth breathing because of all the blood and spit.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Mox smirked like he had achieved something but the younger man just shook his head.

“It’s hot,” Yuta admitted, his eyes trying to catch sight of the inside of the jock. “Lemme see your hand.”

“Sick fuck.” Mox once more brought his hand out, presenting it to Yuta.

All of the mixed fluids gathered in Yuta’s mouth were spat into the awaiting hand. It wasn’t going to be good lube; there was something disgusting and hot about Mox smearing his spit and blood all over his dick. The look of pleasure that came over his face made Yuta moan too.

“S’hot. H-Hard--” Yuta tried to encourage. “Harder.”

“Hm. Demanding brat.” Mox’s tongue stuck out a little as he kept the pace and depth he was at.

“Fuck you,” Yuta grunted, trying to hold onto the anger in the sea of pleasure. “What’d’you wann’ from me?”

“Tell me you’re gonna win. Tell me you’re going to fuck Henry up.” Mox looked sternly down at the other, their eyes staying locked. “All I want is you to win and keep winning.”

“Weird…way’o showin’ it,” Yuta muttered, trying to shake off the hand.

Something dark took over Mox’s face. It wasn’t anger, but Yuta had a feeling he was in trouble. The hand returned to the younger man’s neck, holding him still as Mox leaned in. Slow tantalizing rock of their hips kept the pleasure heightened. Blood-wet lips pressed against Yuta’s ear.

“You have no idea.” Mox’s husky voice echoed through his young boy’s ear. “Think I haven’t been where you are right now? Where do you think we learned it all from, kid? You’ll understand, soon. Just enjoy it, like you have been.”

“Don’ wan’ this.” Yuta tried again but his dick was still rock hard inside the other.

“Neither did I,” Mox admitted, his teeth nibbling on his young boy’s ear. “It was still hot as fuck. It didn’t matter what I wanted, it was about giving me what I needed. I had no choice in the matter because Lordship knew best.”

“Jon, please.” Yuta tried to shake his head.

“It’s okay. You can imagine it,” Mox teased, deciding to pick up the pace now. Powerful thighs working to bring him further up and back down. They moaned together.

“Fuck.” Yuta’s broken sob came from his chest. Somehow Mox knew that he was getting off to this. His brain conjured up the exact images he needed to imagine the scene Mox was telling. It made an intense guilt pool with the horniness.

“The first time was in the locker rooms. It was fucking insane. We fought, but of course I couldn’t win.” Mox kissed down Yuta’s neck. “Not when my head felt like yours.” Teeth scratched at Yuta’s pulse. “We’re different, Wheeler.”

“Different.” Yuta had closed his eyes long ago, violent pornographic scenes playing for him. There was something that needed to be reconciled deep within, some sort of split that Yuta needed to stitch together.

“Fuck me. You remind me so much of Claudio.” Mox panted, really working himself up now. “You just think you have to be such a nice guy, baby, but you don’t. It took so much to break that nice guy act down, but once you get underneath? There’s so much more. He just never knew it either.”

“Mox?” Yuta grunted, pushing against the hand. “Mox?”

“Hey, relax.” Mox let go of his young boy’s face, and pulled away so he couldn’t be attacked. “What?”

“I’m gonna win. I’m gonna fuck Henry up. Doesn’t matter-- forgot my boots or not. Fuckin’ win.” Yuta forced the words out as he looked up into the king’s face.

“God damn right,” Mox growled. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, Wheeler.”

Their foreheads came together, nuzzling at each other as if this were the ring. They shared each other's air and space. Despite being joined they weren’t close enough. Mox scrambled, grabbing and pressing himself fully against his young boy, blood and sweat allowing their skin to slide together.

Tears caught in the corners of Yuta’s eyes. There wasn’t anything wrong, he wasn’t hurting or upset. Were they were happy tears? Yuta had to admit they were. The emotion welling up inside him at Mox calling him perfect stitched the broken parts of Yuta back together. He felt so raw and new, like a freshly healed wound.

The rough way their bodies were moving together was countered by the soft kisses Mox laid across his young boy’s cheek. Their lips ended up together again, rough but normal aside from the blood. A shaky half moan, half sob wormed its way out of Yuta’s chest.

“Let it out. No one else’ll know,” Mox spoke, still lip to lip, muttering in barely audible words. “Want us to come together, baby.”

“Please, Mox, please.” Yuta begged for release as the tears started to slide down his face.

“Fuck. Good boy. Look at you.” Mox watched the tears slipping down Yuta’s face, he hadn’t stopped really working his hips but he was finally starting to ride his young boy properly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.”

The more Mox said the more of Yuta’s tears slipped out. More compliments, soft words following. The unshakable faith Mox had in his young boy, what he saw in his young boy, all the while riding Yuta to the breaking point.

“Ah, fuck. Come on. Be a good boy, and come with daddy, yeah?” Mox growled, his hand being shoved back into his jockstrap.

“Daddy,” Yuta hiccuped between his moans and crying.

“Yeah, baby, c’mon. You’re all pent up.” Mox was breathless as he sweet talked. “Ain’t no one been takin’ care of you, huh? And I’ve been playing with you far too long. Fill daddy up, Wheeler. Be a good boy.”

The words were going straight to Yuta’s cock. Sure there were plenty of times Mox begged to be bred, but this time he wasn’t begging. Practically ordering his young boy in the nicest way. Yuta felt his balls tighten as Mox purposely squeezed around him, making himself tight.

Yuta snapped at the tight feeling squeezing his cock, coming deep inside the tight passage. They shared more fluid as Yuta felt his seed flood Mox. Somehow Mox managed to shoot off at the same time causing senstational spasms through him to Yuta’s cock, massaging and milking him. They slumped together but Yuta could still feel his cock twitching and leaking.

Despite not wanting this Yuta was desperate for more, he even wished Claudio was there to take a turn. His cock was aching for more action. Mox was slowly rocking on his hips in Yuta’s lap.

“You’re a good boy, Wheeler,” Mox muttered. “But you’re only a good boy for us. Understand?”

“Yeah.” Yuta responded automatically as he floated through his post orgasm bliss. At this point he'd agree to practically anything.

“You belong with us.” Mox reiterated as he slowly kissed up Yuta's neck.

“You sure?” Yuta moaned softly at the teasing kissing.

“I'm sure.” Mox kissed the shell of his young boy's ear. “Been sure since those first forty seconds, baby.”

+++

Brrring. Brrrring.

A calamity of noise loudly rang out in the near empty hotel room. Cold food sat out since the morning, but the TV had turned itself off after a few hours. Everything was nearly pitch black.

Brrrrring. Briiiiing.

There was a heavy fog settled over Yuta’s mind, even trying to wake up in panic didn’t work. A clammy, cold sweat took over his entire body as he laid on the couch, slumped over from sitting up while he fell asleep. Everything moved like a washing machine so Yuta laid back down on the couch for a moment. The noise continued but Yuta was finding himself drifting back to sleep.

Brrriiing. Briiiiing. Briiiiing. Briiiing.

Finally it stopped so Yuta closed his eyes completely to let himself go back to sleep. There were thoughts swimming around that he couldn’t make heads or tails of at the moment. It was too much to try to decipher currently as words and images played out. And just as Yuta shoved those things out of his mind enough to sleep another noise started.

Knock. Knock.

That was at the door. It dawned on Yuta that the weird sound before had been the hotel phone and now there was knocking on his door. Slowly he started to get up, the rushing world around him blurred as he tried to get upright. A coffee cup was knocked over on the table but Yuta didn’t pay any mind to it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Comin’.” Yuta finally found his raspy voice. It sounded like he’d slept with his mouth open, scratching his throat.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Coming!” Yuta stumbled step by step to the door, using the wall to help him. The door was finally opened. “Hi?”

“Mr. Yuta.” A woman about Yuta’s age stood on the other side with a concerned smile. “Our front desk attempted to call 3 times for your wake up call,” she informed him as she took a look at him. “So I came up to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Yuta rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m okay. My sleeping has been messed up a lot from all the traveling. Thank you for coming up.”

“It’s no problem, sir. Can I get you anything?” she asked as he gave the young man another look over.

“Um.” Yuta froze for a few seconds but then nodded. “Coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll have it sent right up, sir.” She smiled, gave a little bow, and took off.

The door clicked shut, the auto lock turning with a whirl. Alone, Yuta stood there for a moment with his forehead pressed against the cold metal door. Flashes of what he could only assume was another stress nightmare plagued his eyes. Slowly he turned around to slump back against the door.

Resting against the door Yuta looked down at his hands. There were no marks from fighting back. No rope burn or bruising on his wrists like he expected from being tied to the couch. Nothing. Not even irritation or muscle strain. The young man forced himself off the door too quickly, everything swam around his vision as he stumbled back towards the cold food on the coffee table.

Frantically Yuta started stacking the plates to put the room service cart in the hall. Secretly he was searching for some hidden clue that the dreams he was having were real. Nothing. Again there wasn’t anything abnormal about the coffee table. Attentions were turned towards the couch, but there wasn’t any evidence there either.

Vaguely Yuta could remember blood and come during his dream. Blankets of craziness started to suffocate him as he rushed into the ensuite bath. The bright lights bounced off the shiny mirror while Yuta’s eyes took too long to adjust. Most of his weight bared on the sink counter as he stared the reflection down.

Other than the horrible bags under Yuta’s eyes there weren't any other signs of distress or activities. It was hard to fish for pieces but Yuta tried remembering. No bite marks or bruises. Hell, Yuta didn’t even feel like he had some freaky sex.

“It was just a nightmare,” Yuta muttered to his reflection.

All those movie scenes where a character punched their mirror all made sense in that one moment. Everything about the reflection was something Yuta hated. The exhaustion in his dark eyes, the palness, the waning muscles. It all made a rock of self hate settle in the young man’s stomach. The reflection wasn’t who he truly was, but every day he was feeling more and more like the ghost before him.

“Fuck you,” Yuta growled at the man in the mirror. “You’re weak. You wouldn’t be able to beat Henry.” He narrowed his eyes, anger and pain starting a fire. “But I can.”

The lights were cut off sharply as Yuta left the room. Whatever fog was lifting as he came out of the bathroom to get dressed. Everything was coming into sharp focus, something inside him shifted into the right place. There was a sense of confidence that was back.

All Yuta needed was his bags and he went to leave. Along the way he passed the hotel employee bringing up the pot of coffee, but Yuta didn’t have time to lament the lost coffee. He pulled the hood over his head as he got out to his car to leave for the arena.

+++

Once at the arena Yuta was hit by a wave of longing for his team. Hesitantly he pulled his phone out to check the messages he knew Bryan hadn’t sent. There was nothing new. As he opened up the message field to type something out a text came in at the top. Yuta blinked a few times as his blood ran cold.

It took a moment to build up the courage. As the screen with Bryan remained unchanged, a text from Claudio awaited. Closing his eyes Yuta took a deep breath before pulling up the new message.

“You’re going to win tonight. Remember Anthony Henry isn’t someone to be taken lightly, but you are the better competitor. You are stronger, more violent, and technically sound. Remember your training. Good luck, Wheeler. Not that you need it.”

This was the message that Yuta carved from Bryan. The advice and support that could be easily given. All of the earlier clarity was receding, leaving a void of emotion as everything settled in. There was no reason for Yuta to be getting supportive texts from Claudio but not Bryan. This couldn't just be about Bryan being hurt right now, even though he’d gone running and to doctor’s appointments.

With a scowl Yuta returned to his message with his mentor. The letters appeared under his thumbs as he let his emotions drive his actions. Hitting send without even considering otherwise. There was something deeply wrong and it was breaking inside Yuta.

“I’m going to fucking win tonight.”

The car door slammed. Anger and confusion swirling around in Yuta’s head as he made his way inside. Everything was feeling numb and far away. Just before the corner that led to the locker rooms Yuta felt his phone go off, he stopped to open the message. A small smile spread when he saw it was from Bryan.

“I’d hope so, Wheeler. It’s Anthony Henry.”

That was all. Yuta closed his eyes, counted to ten and put his phone away. Being immediately accosted by the media team made Yuta shut down. He could hear words but they didn’t make much sense. Expect the word Bryan. Somehow he found himself talking, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying either. The words weren’t anything.

The jab Bryan made about forgetting his boots played over and over in his head for some reason. Even as he spoke quietly about Bryan’s condition. As the zipper came apart Yuta instantly realized he somehow did forget his boots. They weren’t tucked away in the under pocket of the gear bag meant for them.

Panic set in as Yuta walked away from the conversation. The one thing. The stupid one thing that he just couldn’t forget. Once in the empty locker room still labeled BCC Yuta paced around as he tried to remember if he just left them in the hotel or all the way at Bryan’s place. There was a memory Yuta had of packing the boots but not taking anything out at the hotel so nothing was forgotten. It wasn’t like Yuta’s memory was super reliable.

“Fuck, fuck.” Yuta shook his head. Anything else could have been forgotten but not this. “Maybe uh…the tailors?”

Without much thought Yuta went along to find the costume, wardrobe, and tailor people. It wasn’t a fruitful journey. Wrestlers were too particular so they didn’t keep any kind of boots on hand or shoes for wrestling in general. Too many varieties, they said as Yuta walked off in a semiconscious state.

The lonely, cold locker room was depressing. A lot of ideas were running through the young boy’s head, like did he have to wrestle shoeless? Rage was washing up on the shores of Yuta’s emotions until he noticed something sitting by his gear,

“What the actual fuck?!” Yuta screamed as he saw a pair of his boots tossed near his bag. “I don’t fucking--”

Deep heavy breaths started to help there be some level of calm. Enough to go look at the pair. They were just some random pair of his boots, but not the ones he thought he packed. Leaning down Yuta realized there was a piece of paper tucked inside the right boot.

Heard you were missing boots. You left these in my truck last time we were in Ohio together. You’re gonna fucking kill Henry tonight. --MOX

Upon closer inspection Yuta could remember leaving these. They weren’t his favorite, for some reason the instep was too narrow on the right foot. Last time these boots were on his feet was in Ohio, he remembered tossing them in annoyance in the back and refusing to get them as a joke. If Mox was in the building, he would have driven here in that truck and saw Yuta’s interview moment. It made sense, it made perfect senses.

Bryan can feel Yuta’s eyes on him despite being locked up with Mox in the training ring, cringing slightly when Mox elbows him while he’s distracted. “Focus Wheeler!” William calls out firmly. 

Mox and Yuta break apart and Yuta nods to William. “Yes Lordship, I’m sorry.” He mutters before they lock up again.

Bryan watches, throwing in his own two cents as the fight goes on, cheering when Yuta gets Mox on the mat and pins him. They praise and clap him on the back before William sends him to take a shower and sends Claudio into the ring with Mox. 

Bryan follows Yuta to the bench and smiles, sitting beside his younger lover. “You did well, I’m proud of you.” He claps him on the shoulder but raises an eyebrow when Yuta snorts and shakes his hand off. 

“I don't need your acceptance." He mutters, unlacing his shoes.

"Then why do you want it so badly? I saw you looking to see if I was watching, that’s why you have that bruise forming on your face.” He chuckles but realizes that was a bad idea. 

“Yeah? Maybe I’m making sure you got eyes on me and not looking for the next young boy for the BCC.” He growls out, throwing his shoes toward his bag and standing. 

“Woah hey, talk to me Yoots; what’s wrong? I thought we were past this?” He asks, grabbing Yuta’s shirt before he can storm off and pulling him back down. “Talk to me about this.”

Yuta swears and sits down rubbing his face. “I’m sorry-.” He whispers softly. “Danny- he’s posting all this shit about missing things and looking back on past mistakes and I-.” 

Bryan frowns as he looks away, so he moves to squat in front of Yuta to be able to see his face. “And you-?” He tries to coax out the answer gently and smiles when Yuta looks at him.  “And those feelings came back up of me wondering if I’m not going to be enough down the road.” Yuta mutters with a blush forming across his cheeks. “It’s stupid but I wonder if I’m going to lose you again.” 

Bryan clicks his tongue and grabs Yuta’s chin to tilt his head up. “That will never happen again and I’m sorry that you’re still hurting from my mistakes.” He places a soft peck on Yuta’s lips. “Just please stay?” Yuta whispers. “Promise I’m not going anywhere Yoots.”

He touches down in England, flying straight from San Fran, the day after that.

It hadn’t taken all that much to get the information he was looking for. He’s Bryan Danielson, after all, and people know they can trust him. Still, it’s surprising how many people didn’t actually have the information Bryan wanted. He wonders if it’s really that easy to just disappear.

Bryan rents a car and drives straight to the address Doug Williams had texted to him.

It’s funny, that this is where Bryan has ended up. He’s been a World Champion in different companies, he’s training the younger generation, he’s really done it all, he shouldn’t be this, this desperate for the World title in AEW. But he is. He can feel it fizzing inside of his bones, right inside of the core, the desire, the need to become champ again. And nothing — nothing he’s doing is working. He couldn’t beat Mox when they were apart, couldn’t beat Mox as a team, couldn’t get that title when he focused only on himself and not the group. Nothing is working. There’s only one thing left that Bryan can think of, to get him that big one.

Liverpool is cold and wet, and Bryan cranks the heating up in the rental car. He hates driving on the other side of the road. He hasn’t had to do it in a long time, can’t remember the last time he came over here, and normally when he was, someone else always took over the driving.

He focuses on the task at hand so he doesn’t think about where he’s going, what he’s going to do, and what he’s going to say when he gets there. He focuses on not crashing the car, because he doesn’t want to have to explain why a day after a brutal match he’s in Liverpool.

Thanks to the totally useless navigation in the rental car, Bryan pulls up to the car dealership half an hour before it’s due to close. Cars on the forecourt are being cleaned, pulled into the back of the building, and the ones doing it stare at him like they’d wish he hadn’t pulled up. That’s okay, because Bryan isn’t here to buy a car.

He heads inside the showroom, his shoes scuff against the shiny white floor, and he can smell leather polish and coffee. There’s a few cars inside, all gleaming and sparkling new. Desks are dotted around, all of them deserted as the showroom starts to close down for the evening. Bryan’s never been one to really care about cars. The only reason he spent any kind of money on the one he has now is because it’s more eco friendly. Yuta had been more excited about it than him, wanting first dibs on being a passenger in Bryan’s Tesla.

There’s the scuffing of shoes and the closing of a door, and Bryan looks up, eyes instantly falling on the man he’d come to see.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise—“

Nigel McGuinness’ words are cut off when he looks up from his clipboard. He’s still so handsome, rakishly so, his hair’s grown back but he’s lost that all too familiar bulk. Somehow, he looks like Nigel without looking like Nigel at all.

“Bryan.”

There’s shock written all over Nigel’s face, like he’s seen a ghost. And Bryan guesses he has, really. A ghost from his past that he never expected to see again, one that he hasn’t seen in over a decade.

“Surprise,” Bryan says, giving Nigel a small smile and stepping closer to him. “You know, when Regal told you you could sell ice to an Eskimo, I didn’t expect you to, you know, actually start selling things.” Bryan remembers when Regal said it. It had been a rare occasion that Regal had come to see him, and Nigel had been on one of his tangents, Bryan doesn’t remember what it was about, he just remembers the way Regal had looked at him in awe and had said ‘Dear boy, you could sell ice to an Eskimo.’ Nigel would always deny it, but he’d gone red, all flushed and embarrassed, at what Bryan knew was a compliment. Nigel’s a talker, he’s always been good at talking. Whether he’s buttering you up or cutting you down to size. Nigel’s the guy to do it. So it doesn’t actually surprise him that he’s found Nigel all these years later, working as a car salesman.

“Yeah, well,” Nigel says, clearing his throat, “Stick to what you’re good at, right?” He turns away from Bryan and walks over to one of the desks. It must be his own, because he picks up a mug and takes a long drink from it.

“What are you — how did you find me?”

Bryan takes more steps to get back close to Nigel.

“Doug told me.”

“Fucking bastard.” Nigel mumbles, going around the other side of the desk and sitting in the chair. He looks at home here, while also looking terribly out of place. He looks handsome in a suit, smart, distinguished. But he shouldn’t be here. He should never have been here.

“What do you want? We close soon.”

“Not here to buy a car, Nigel.”

“Then I doubt there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk, please?” Please isn’t a word Bryan’s much used with Nigel. They never used to say please and thank you to each other, Bryan wasn’t a beggar and Nigel didn’t care to make him one.

Nigel looks at him, his face still pale with shock, but resignation takes over. “I have to lock up. Just — wait here.” Nigel picks up his mug and downs the rest of the contents before standing up. He disappears behind a door, leaving Bryan to walk around the showroom.

There’s a board on the wall with what must be all the salespeople’s names on. It’s an intricate table with words that Bryan understands but not in this context, and Nigel’s name is at the top of the board, with numbers bigger than everyone else. Bryan suspects that’s a good thing.

Nigel is gone for a while, so long that other workers come in to collect their things and ask him if he’s okay, or telling him that he needs to leave. He tells each of them that he’s waiting for Nigel, that really, he’s okay. Bryan half thinks that Nigel’s done a runner out the back it takes him so long to come back, but he eventually does, carrying a backpack, and wearing a zip up jacket that looks so much like the ones Mox, Claudio and Yuta wear to the ring. Except Nigel’s is navy blue and has the showroom’s logo on, rather than the BCC lettering. It occurs to Bryan that Nigel would look at home wearing one of those jackets. Claudio tells him they’re from Lululemon, the good stuff, according to him and Yuta. Mox doesn’t know what Lululemon is, but he said he likes the way it makes his arms look when he wears it so he lets Claudio buy them and get them printed. There is one for Bryan, but he’s just, never felt like putting it on. He felt less like wearing one when Regal did what he did, but he thinks maybe now, if Nigel was wearing one with him, he’d like it a little more.

Nigel’s got a black laptop bag hooked over his shoulder, and a folder tucked under his arm. He ushers Bryan out of the showroom, flicks off the lights, locks the door, presses buttons on the security alarm and brings the shutters down. It’s so… mundane that Bryan hates it. Before now, the only Nigel that Bryan ever thought of was wrestling Nigel. Who came down to the ring with his Pure title backwards, wielding an iron with his stupid Union Jack on. Who went through too many tubs of hair gel to be healthy, who beat him bloody in the ring but sat with him while he cried after his grandfather passed away. This is not a Nigel he’s ever thought of. Nigel with a normal man’s job. Nigel with responsibilities that don’t include ordering merch for shows or sorting out visas.

“Where are we going?” Bryan asks.

“I don’t live far. Just follow me.” Nigel gets into his car, a flashy thing. It’s so unlike Nigel that Bryan wants to cringe. Back when they were wrestling together, sharing rooms and driving everywhere together, Nigel hated flashy. Couple of the guys used to use their first big paycheck to get themselves flashy watches, expensive shoes, designer clothes. Nigel wasn’t like that. Nigel saved money, Nigel was smart and cautious, and half his clothes were from Goodwill because he couldn’t give a fuck what they looked like as long as they fit.

Bryan guesses the car is one from the dealership, that he gets it cheaper considering it’s where he works, but it’s still no unlike Nigel. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe thirteen years can change a person. Maybe now Nigel does like flashy. He’s wearing a fancy suit, driving an expensive car. Maybe this is Nigel, just a new version of him. There’s been many versions of Bryan, after all, and he knows that. There was the very first version, then came Dragon, the one that Nigel knows the best, then he was Daniel Bryan, and there’s been numerous versions of him, only some of which Bryan even liked, and now, now he’s back to being Bryan, with hints of Dragon thrown in there. But maybe it’s time to bring back Dragon, the real one. And to do that he needs the real Nigel.

He follows Nigel’s car for around five minutes before they pull up to a row of houses. They’re pretty, all in a line and connected together, with sandy coloured bricks and white trims. Each one has stairs leading up to the coloured doors. It’s so… cute and quaint.

Nigel gets out of his car, pulling the laptop bag and folder with him, looking like your average salesman. Nigel’s never been average at anything and Bryan hates so much that that word is rattling around in his brain when he thinks of Nigel. Nigel who’s explosive and full of fiery rage, who swears like a trooper and makes him bleed like no one else can. Nigel who stuck to his guns and spiked and bleached his hair no matter how many times he told him how stupid he looked, Nigel who never did anything the way anyone else did. Nigel who was so far from your average person that he may as well have had his own category. But now Nigel looks like every other man. Bryan probably wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a crowd. And maybe that’s fine for himself, or for other people, but it’s not okay for Nigel.

Bryan follows Nigel wordlessly up the steps to the front door, carrying his own duffel bag over his shoulder. There’s not a lot in it, he hadn't planned on sticking around in San Francisco after Revolution, so he’d packed lightly. He’s got a couple of changes of clothes, his bloody gear, and his wash bag. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to stay here in Liverpool, as long as it takes to get what he wants, he guesses, so unless that takes less than a day, Bryan’s going to need to buy some clothes.

Nigel’s house is nice. The front entryway is warm and inviting, the walls painted magnolia, with a shoe rack and a coat hanger that Nigel hangs his zip up on. He dumps his laptop bag, keys and folder on the entry table, and kicks off his shiny shoes. The living room is much the same, magnolia walls, a small amount of furniture but the most inviting looking couch Bryan’s ever seen, and by the TV, there’s a bookcase. It’s full, from top to bottom, with wrestling DVD’s. There’s some photos in frames on the little bits of the shelves that stick out, and Bryan sees himself, bloodied and in pain, locked on a submission by Nigel. Bryan recognises it instantly as their last match. Glory By Honor VIII, the Final Countdown. Nigel’s hair is shaved, and Bryan’s is longer. He beat Nigel that night. The last time he’s ever stepped foot in a ring with the man he’s wrestled thirty seven times. That night he’d known it was the last time he was wrestling Nigel in Ring of Honor, he just wishes he’d known that it was the last time he was ever going to be in a ring with him. The last time he was ever going to punch his stupid, beautiful face until it bled. The last time he was going to feel the pain of his muscles being worked by someone who didn’t care whether they tore right off the bone.

“Coffee, tea, water, beer?” Nigel calls from the kitchen.

Bryan steps away from the bookcase, remembering that he’s in Nigel’s house and Nigel is in the kitchen, and not just staring back at him from an old photograph.

“Coffee, thanks. Black, no sugar.”

“Creature of habit.” Nigel mutters, taking out two mugs from the cupboard and setting them down. He puts coffee in one and a tea bag in the other. The kettle boils next to him.

For a man who used to sit and talk to him for hours about just about anything, Nigel is silent now. It’s not exactly an awkward silence, Bryan knows there’s a million things they could say to each other, and he’s not scared to say them. He just. Doesn’t know how. Doesn’t want to, right now.

Nigel hands him the coffee when it’s done, and then steps past him into the front room. He sets his own mug down on the coffee table, and strips off his suit jacket, loosens his tie and undoes a couple of buttons. That looks a bit more like the Nigel that Bryan knows. Loose. Undone. Free.

Bryan takes a seat, sipping on the hot, bitter coffee. It’s good, he hasn’t had anything since being on the plane, he’d focused so much on just getting out of the airport and driving to the dealership that he hadn’t even had a drink or eaten anything. This was more important. But everything’s slow and syrupy now, not an anti-climax, because seeing Nigel feels as good as Bryan knew it would, but it’s not — it’s not going the way he thought it would. He wasn’t expecting to find a shell of the old Nigel, he wasn’t expecting a nine to five man with a house and flashy car. He doesn’t know what he was expecting really, because god knows he didn’t think Nigel would be still running the British independent circuit, but he thought maybe he’d be doing something… different.

“So,” Nigel says, breaking the silence. “Why are you here? I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to see what I was up to. Doug has my number, too.”

“Can’t old friends visit each other?”

“Sure. But that would require us being friends.”

Bryan frowns. “You don’t think we’re friends?”

“No, I don’t. It’s been bloody fourteen years, Bryan. We weren’t even friends before, but now?”

They weren’t — Bryan’s always considered Nigel more than a friend to him. They’ve shared beds, food, they even shared a woman once, they’ve shared late night talks, their hopes and dreams. They were companions outside of the ring the way they were enemies inside of it. Bryan remembers every single stolen kiss underneath the covers. He remembers every single touch that Nigel thought Bryan was asleep through. Maybe they had a complex relationship, where they made each other bleed more than smile, but Nigel was — he was something to him. Everything, at one point.

“You’re such a liar.” Bryan says. He doesn’t know what else to say. He can’t exactly refute the knowledge that he hasn’t been around the last decade and a half. But Nigel disappeared, Nigel left and he didn’t want to be found. Sure it was easy to find him when he wanted him, and it was only now that he thought to look for him, but Nigel didn’t want to be found. Should Nigel be mad at him for letting him stay hidden?

“Look, I’ll say the same thing to you that I said to your old man, I’ve no business getting in a ring again. Whatever he’s told you — no, thank you.”

Bryan looks up from his mug. His old man?

“Regal called you?”

“Yeah. Start of last year. Wanted me to come back to the ring. It was after WWE let him go, said he wanted to start something new and he wanted me to do it with him.”

That. Bryan didn’t know that. Regal never, ever told him that he’d approached Nigel to come to AEW. If he’d have known that, he’d have never texted a bunch of people to find out if they knew where Nigel was. He’d have just asked Regal.

“He wanted you for BCC?”

“Guess so. That isn’t what he called it at the time. Just that he was going to where you were, and so should I. I said no, he called me a coward and he put the phone down. Don’t know who he’s calling the fucking coward.” Nigel mutters the last part over the rim of his mug, and he slurps at it noisily. That’s Nigel. Nigel never had any manners when it came to eating or drinking. He was loud and annoying and messy.

“You watch the shows, then?”

Nigel pauses for a moment, realising he’s been caught out. He doesn’t try and lie his way out of it though.

“Yeah. Haven’t had a chance to watch your match from the weekend yet,” Nigel says. “Though I’m guessing because you’re here, you didn’t win. Thanks for the spoiler.”

“He cheated.”

Nigel hums. Nigel knows a lot about cheating. The first time they fought for a title, the Pure title, Nigel won by count out, making sure Bryan couldn’t get back in the ring. He’s done it a few times, Bryan remembers how Nigel threw that unsuspecting woman into Christopher Daniels, keeping him outside of the ring until he was counted out. MJF might have used different tactics. The ring, a fire extinguisher, but regardless they’re shades of Nigel McGuinness. Doing anything and everything to win, even though deep down, they’re good enough to win on their own.

“What did you expect? You get in the ring with a snake and you expect not to get bitten?”

Bryan shakes his head. Because yeah, he knew the risks. He knew that he wasn’t going into a clean match. He knew that he was going to overcome adversity. It’s just. He’s done it before. He’s beaten Nigel, a slippery, slippery snake, he’s beaten him. So why couldn’t he beat MJF?

“I’ve been bitten plenty of times before, and usually I have the anti-venom.”

“You’re forty years old. That shit doesn’t work anymore.”

Nigel’s right, in a way. The anti-venom doesn’t work anymore. Because these days he’s been going up against a different kind of snake. These younger wrestlers aren’t of the same species as they are, they’re different, and so Bryan needs a different type of anti-venom. He needs a snake to beat a snake.

“What do you suggest?”

Nigel scoffs. “You didn’t come all this way for advice on how to beat MJF.”

Well, he did, actually. But he didn’t come just for advice. He came for Nigel. To be the best he needs Nigel.

“I didn’t know where else to go, what else to do.”

“The only thing you could think to do was come and see me? Did they check you for concussions after the match?”

“Why are you pretending?”

“Pretending—“

“Pretending that this,” Bryan motions between them, nearly spilling his coffee over Nigel’s nice couch, “Was nothing. That we were nothing. Is it easier that way? Is it easier to sit here thousands of miles from where you belong, pretending that — that you’re not Nigel fucking McGuinness?”

Anger twists on Nigel’s face. That’s the Nigel Bryan knows. He knows angry Nigel, he knows the snarl of his upper lip into his nose, he knows those imperfect teeth bared at him like he’s ready to rip his throat out. He knows that — him, and he feels comfort rather than fear, when he points an accusatory finger at him.

“Who the bloody hell do you think you are? You don’t say a word to me after all this time, you didn’t even try to find me. Not until you wanted something, and you want me to, what, welcome you with open arms and tell you how much I’ve missed you? There might have been something before, but if it wasn’t enough for you to pick up the phone when you found out I was retiring then why is it enough now? You fucking selfish prick.” Nigel spits at him, slamming the mug down on the coffee table, and it does slosh a little over the side. Nigel doesn’t seem to care.

“You didn’t want to be found.”

“No I didn’t, not by people like Ares or Castagnoli or Roddy. But Doug knows the people he can give my information to. There’s a small, and I mean small, handful of people he’s allowed to do that for. And in the space of a year, one of them called, and the other one, well he fucking turns up at my work unannounced.”

“I can’t believe you’re a salesman. A car salesman.”

“You do what you have to do to pay the bills.”

“Why Liverpool, and not London?”

Nigel shrugs. “I tried London for a bit, but it was too… It felt too much like defeat. Having to move back there. So I came here instead.”

“Where you lost the Pure title.”

“That’s not—“

“I know.”

They fall silent. Bryan’s not ready to tell him really why he’s here, maybe if he hadn't dropped that bomb on him that Regal already asked for him to come back to wrestling and he said no. He’s got to approach it differently now, he’s got to make Nigel see that what this is — where he is right now, it’s not home. This has never been Nigel’s home. Home is back in the US, wrestling or wrestling adjacent, training or commentating or something, with Bryan. Home is Nigel complaining about not being able to get a decent cup of tea or constantly arguing with people over the use of U in words like honor and favor. Nigel’s home is alongside Bryan, bringing out the Dragon.

“Hungry?” Nigel asks after a while. The anger seems to have gone now, just as quick as it always would back in the day. Nigel could call him an insufferable asshole and push him into some stage boxes one moment and then the next he’d be asking what they were getting for dinner, or hauling him into the locker room to ask him for help lacing his boots. Bryan got so used to it that he wouldn’t even flinch when Nigel shouted or swore at him, while everyone else would.

“I could eat.”

Nigel reaches under the coffee table and grabs a handful of take out menus. He hands them to Bryan, “Take your pick. Not sure which ones are vegan friendly.”

“I’m not — I eat eggs and fish sometimes.”

“What?”

“I got a soy allergy, and I struggled to eat enough protein on the road. I’m still mostly vegan but. I indulge, sometimes.”

Nigel raises an eyebrow. “But what about the — liver stuff, and the staph?”

“All in check. Like I said, mostly vegan, and we’ve come a long way from only having soy proteins as an option but. I’m not as serious about it as I was before.”

“You, not serious about something? Give me a break, you’d be serious in an argument about Santa Claus coming down the chimney.” Nigel says, but he picks up a Chinese menu and starts going through it. Bryan doesn’t argue, because that would prove Nigel right and Bryan hates doing that, he can be such a smug bastard when he knows he’s right.

Seemingly haven chosen what he wants, he passes the menu to Bryan, and then opens up his phone. Bryan doesn’t ask why Nigel doesn’t just use Uber Eats or whatever the delivery service is called here in the UK, because he knows Nigel likes to do things the old fashioned way, even after all these years. He remembers once, when a booker was trying to tell Nigel how to do something, how he should do it a different way to how he was doing it because it was better, more modern, and Nigel had taken the booker by the collar of his shirt and spat in his face ‘There’s no school like the old school and I’m the fucking headmaster, alright?’ The booker had nodded and barely refrained from pissing his pants. Bryan had admittedly swooned a little bit. He was pretty young when it happened, and Nigel was big and imposing and Bryan liked when he threw his weight around. He liked when Nigel showed that feral side of himself, even when he showed it against Bryan. It was like seeing the real Nigel.

When the food comes, after pathetic small talk about the weather and football, Nigel puts on the TV and says, “You okay watching yourself? Because I already paid for it.” He loads up the PPV and looks at Bryan. He’s not, he’s not really ready to watch the match back, but he’s going to have to at some point. With Nigel might be the best option.

“Sure.” He says, and Nigel presses play.

It’s shocking to him, that Nigel fucking McGuinness, one of, if not the best Pure wrestler, lives in Liverpool, working as a car salesman, buying fucking PPV’s to watch when he’s finished work. He should be where he is now, a decorated wrestler, still at the top of his game, training the younger generation. He could have been, Bryan knows that, he could have been had he just lied to the WWE. All the times that Nigel has been a snake, and the one time it truly would have mattered, he covered up his fangs. If Nigel had just lied, just, hadn't told them about his arms that weren’t even a big deal to begin with, well maybe they would have ruled the WWE together. Maybe they’d have been able to go to AEW as a team, recruiting Mox and Yuta and Claudio. It’s what Regal clearly wanted. They could have had it.

They’ve long finished their food by the time Bryan’s match comes on, and he’s glad because he feels a little sick when it starts. It was only just over a day ago, and it’s still raw. Bryan’s lost before. He can deal with it, it’s just — it’s another big one. He loves them, dearly, but his boys, they’ve all held titles since being in AEW, Yuta the Pure title twice, Mox the World title three times, and Claudio the Ring of Honor World title twice. It’s just him who has nothing to show for his time in the company and it’s — it's hard. Regal calls him the perfect wrestler, but right now he has nothing to show for it.

Nigel doesn’t talk at all through the match, he watches intently as each time Bryan almost wins only to have it cruelly ripped away from him happens, and then when it’s all over, and he’s covered in Max’s blood that he swears he can still feel on his skin, and he’s lost and there’s no one there to help him.

“Where were the others?”

“You saw. Mox was all banged up, they were busy.”

Nigel shifts from where he’s sat on his couch. He’d never bothered to get changed out of his suit, and Bryan wonders if that’s something he normally does or whether he just didn’t want to while Bryan was here. The Nigel Bryan knew was always more than happy to walk around in his boxers. He would answer the door to the delivery guy wearing them, and if he could, he’d have probably turned up to interviews wearing them.

“You aren’t really running with them anymore though, are you? After what the old man did?”

“No. I want to — I want to again, though. Being away from them for these last few months, watching them together. Only made me realise that I’m better when I’m with them. Even when I don’t win.”

Nigel hums, his mouth set in a thin line, and his fingers scratch over the short stubble on his jaw. “So, why aren’t you? Why are you here instead? You could be with them, but you’re not, you’re with me.”

“Because they’re — it’s Mox and Claudio. It doesn’t need to be a big thing, going back to what it was before. Maybe with Yuta, he's sensitive, but we’re a family. I don’t need to go back to them on my hands and knees. I’ll just — go back.” Bryan says. And maybe that sounds flippant, maybe to other people that would sound like Bryan’s walking all over the people he loves, but it’s not, he’s not, that’s just how they are. It’s now they’ve always been. And Bryan’s, Bryan’s hoping that it’s the same with Nigel.

“What did Regal tell Mox? About what he did?”

Of course Nigel would want to know that. While always chasing the man’s approval, Nigel never fully trusted Regal. Sometimes he’d get in Bryan’s ear about it, how eventually the old man would do him over. Regal’s never done anything to Bryan, but he guesses that Nigel was right, in a way, because he did screw Mox over. Bryan doesn’t know why he did it, the only man who knows is Regal and he keeps everything close to his chest, storing it away even if letting it out would calm the hurt of others, the ones he loves.

“Nothing. Just what you saw — They won’t talk to him.”

“Are you talking to him?”

“Yeah. I stayed with him at the hospital when MJF hit him from behind. He’s… off doing other stuff right now.”

“Course he is, he always did like making a mess and then walking away from it.”

Bryan wants to protest, something inside of him always wanting to uphold the honor of the man who built him, but he holds back, because Nigel is right and Bryan’s known that for a long time. But he’ll always love him. No matter what he does.

“Well, as fun as this is, I’ve got work in the morning. You’re welcome to stay up and watch anything, there’s Netflix and everything. I have a guest room, top of the stairs and the first door facing you. Fresh sheets and all that.” Nigel says, and he gets up, clearing away the take out menus and boxes and drinks.

“Thanks, what time do you—“

“I’ll be out of here at 7:30. I’ll leave you the spare key, if you want to go out, or leave, or whatever. Just make sure you post it back through the letterbox if you do.”

“What, I can’t keep it?” Bryan says, quirking his mouth up with a smile.

For a brief second, Nigel almost smiles. He schools it pretty quickly, and sticks his fingers up at him. “Not a chance, Dragon. I don’t need you turning up at my doorstep every time you lose, you’ll be here every sodding week.”

Bryan feels himself warm all over when Nigel calls him Dragon. To hear it coming out of his mouth, god it sounds so good.

“Well that’s not very nice.”

Nigel doesn’t bother to answer him, he just gives him the finger again before disappearing up the stairs. Bryan’s plunged into the quietness of the room, the TV’s still on low, playing the last episode of Rampage. Bryan switches it off and heads into the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water.

It’s easy to be in Nigel’s house, even though he’s never been here before and hasn’t been around the man in fourteen years. It’s just, it’s easy. Nigel’s gone to bed, he doesn’t need to be worried about anything. He’s just. He’s at Nigel’s house. He’s not going to call it Nigel’s home, because Nigel’s home is not here, doing this. This is just a house, just a place he can lie to himself and call home because it’s easier than facing the truth.

Bryan sips on the glass of water, one hand gripped on the counter behind him. There’s not much in Nigel’s kitchen, a stand mixer that doesn’t look like it’s ever been used, the kettle and toaster which have definitely been used, books are stacked on top of the fridge, mugs hanging on a mug tree, coffee pots and sugar pots and some plates sitting on the draining board. There’s a painting of a seaside town on the back wall and below it a little bistro table with two chairs.

Above him Bryan hears Nigel moving around. The shower turns on and Bryan finishes the rest of his water, rinsing out the glass in the sink. He grabs his bag from the bottom of the stairs where he’d dumped it and makes his way up them.

The guest room is pretty bare. There’s a bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and a chest of drawers. But it’s clean and pretty spacious. He can still hear Nigel in the shower, so he slips out of his clothes and lays down on the bed, booting and charging his phone up after it had died sometime this evening.

He’s got a message from Regal. Where are you? It says. He must have gone to his place or something. He doesn’t want anyone to know where he is yet, just in case he or anyone else tries to tell him not to do this, to come home. He’s doing this, no matter how long it takes.

The other messages aren’t important, one from Tony telling him to take his time coming back to work, but to make sure he gets himself checked over if he feels anything out of the ordinary. One from his sister, asking if he’s okay.

There’s one from Doug, asking if he made it. To that he replies with a thumbs up. Doug never asked what he needed Nigel’s information for. He’s always been good like that. He always let Bryan switch rooms with him when he wanted to be with Nigel, always dealt with Colt’s snoring and never ever, ever said anything about his and Nigel’s complicated relationship. It doesn’t matter to Doug what it’s about — just that Dragon’s asking for Nigel.

He aimlessly scrolls on Twitter until he hears the shower turn off. He listens as Nigel finishes up in the bathroom and goes back into his room, the door closing with an audible thud. Bryan wonders what it’s like inside. Is it simple like the rest of this house, or is the bedroom more personalised? Nigel always liked to sleep cocooned in more blankets than were necessary, does he still do that, does he need more blankets now he’s in the colder climate, or does he have a heater on? Bryan wants to know. He wants to know this Nigel the same way he knows his Nigel. He wants them to become one again.

Bryan heads out into the hall and into the bathroom, needing to shower off the plane sweat and air from his body before he goes to bed. He can hear what sounds like chattering and laughing from the other side of the wall, so unless Nigel’s hiding a gaggle of people in his room he must be watching TV.

It’s a tribute to their relationship that Nigel just offered up his guest bedroom rather than asking him if he’d booked a hotel. Bryan would have, if Nigel had asked, he might have turned up unannounced and used the element of surprise to actually find him, but he wouldn’t do that to him. He might break his nose and wrench his arm out of the socket inside of the ring — but that’s them. Where he’s reckless with Nigel’s body he’s careful with his heart. Or at least, he tries to be. Maybe not talking for over a decade isn’t being very careful at all.

He showers quickly, listening to the sound of the TV in Nigel’s room as he dries himself off and brushes his teeth.

Bryan gets into bed and shuts the lamp off. Across the hall, he hears a loud snore. That’s new. Nigel’s never been a snorer.

"Dragon, me and the baby are cold."

1: MOX (Zen)

The warm, soft, fluffy look of bed and Bryan neatly nestled into the pillows wasn’t enough to redirect Mox’s anxious energy. For the last thirty minutes Bryan had watched Mox pace around, moving this or that, putting something away or in a travel bag as he got ready for their next round of flights.

Sometimes Bryan would just let Mox work himself up. Maybe that was mean, but offering help too early in the process of anxiety tended to lead to fights. Plus it let Bryan relax comfortably while he watched his very sexy, jacked, and shirtless boyfriend move around the bedroom manically. As nice as it was to watch Mox bend over and crouch in the very tight red boxer briefs, Bryan was starting to get dizzy just watching him.

“You need to relax,” Bryan called out tonelessly.

“Fuck off,” Mox snapped, throwing up the middle finger as he ignored the comment. 

“I’m serious,” Bryan sighed, tucking an arm behind his head. “I mean, I do love watching your ass in those shorts, but if you get any more worked up then you’re not going to sleep well and I’m not dealing with you being grumpy while we travel tomorrow.” 

“You’re an asshole, Bry.” Mox glared but at least stopped pacing. 

“Why? Because I don’t want the man I love to be miserable and exhausted while traveling all day because I know that makes him feel fucked up?” Bryan smirked at the pissed off look that got from Mox. “I’m serious, Jon. I’ll help you finish in the morning.”

“And I suppose you’ll help me relax now?” The defensive look on Mox always made Bryan think of a grumpy puppy.

“Yup. So come to bed.” Bryan examined his partner very closely as the wall started to break down. There could have been a moment where Bryan needed to push harder, but Mox finally caved and climbed onto the bed. “Atta boy.”

“Are you gonna be a total prick the entire time?” Mox shot him a look as he got onto his side of the bed with a huff. 

“That was sincere!” Bryan laughed. It was hard to make Mox take him seriously sometimes, but that was partially his own fault for always teasing the guy. “There’s a hockey game on. Let’s watch it.” 

“Oh-kay…” Mox looked suspicious as he sank into the bed. 

“Hey,” Bryan paused in his work of changing the channel to actually look at the other man. He reached up and took Mox by the chin. “Just let me help you relax, Jon. Trust me.” He was trying to express that he saw genuine distress without forcing Mox to be embarrassed.

“Yeah. Fuck, alright. Sorry.” Mox shrugged a little as he inched closer. 

“C’mere.” Bryan pulled Mox flush against his chest and threw the arm with the remote over Mox to change the TV. “It’s going to be alright.” He assured quietly as the hockey game came to life. 

It took Mox the first quarter to actually turn off and enjoy. There was still a lot of tension in his body so Bryan started running his hands up and down Mox’s leg and hip. Normally when they watched sports it was downstairs and it was much more lively, but this was just to take Mox’s mind off things.

When half time rolled around Bryan started to work on the next part of his Help Mox Relax and Get Out of His Head routine. A few light kisses roused Mox from his dream-like state. Bryan’s fingers fiddled with the hem of Mox’s underwear around his thigh.

“Go with it.” Bryan encouraged as he started to tug the red material down Mox’s thighs. “You won’t need those.”

Mox kicked the shorts off the bed while Bryan reached for the lube. It was good they had fucked earlier in the gym after Mox got frustrated that Bryan kept pinning him. It meant his partner was open and ready for him. All Bryan had to do was reapply some lube to Mox and then himself before he was gliding in with ease. 

“Fuck…” Mox let out the long moan as he took all the other had to offer.

“You feel so good, Jon.” Bryan pressed his forehead against Mox’s shoulder. “Just relax for me.”

“I should find this kinda shit so annoying…” Mox mumbled, there was no bite in his voice anymore. “Your dick radiates zen or somethin’. Like a fuckin’ xanax.”

“Maybe I should start bending you over and putting it in you every time you start getting antsy.” Bryan grinned against his partner's shoulder.

“I wanna object ‘cause I feel like you’re teasin’ me, but your magic dick is working so I’ll let it slide this time.” Mox sighed as he leaned back into Bryan. 

“I’d stop.” Bryan wrapped himself snuggly around Mox, just enjoying the feeling of his dick being warmed. “But I know you like it.”

“Fuck you…” Mox was already mostly asleep. 

“I’ll fuck you in the morning, baby. Go to sleep.” Bryan shut off the TV so that there weren't any more distractions. 

“P’mise?”

“I promise, Jon.”

2: CLAUDIO (Restart)

The weather outdoors was nice enough that Bryan had settled himself on his back patio to read. It was early in the morning; the sun was just above the horizon, his morning run already complete. After Grand Slam, Bryan found himself with a visitor.

The night had gone long with Claudio. The title lifted a weight off of the Swiss man that he desperately needed, the loss of it left him with nothing to hold onto. So he had sought out Bryan to be grounded. They had done a lot of work the night before, so Bryan was going to let Claudio sleep in. Despite what most people probably thought, Bryan considered Claudio's defeat to be an honorable one. Eddie wasn’t an easy enemy. 

The back door opened up, causing Bryan to look over. A small smirk crossed his face as he took in the very sleepy Claudio. The old hoodie looked like it was one of Mox’s that was left around. A little too small for Claudio, and a faded Deftones logo. There was a questioning look on the larger man’s face.

“I thought you could use the rest.” Bryan waved him over. “I took a short run anyway.” That wasn’t true but it was a worthwhile lie.

Claudio made his way over, one hand rubbing at his eye making the hem of the hoodie ride up. Just enough of Claudio’s abs peaked out between hoodie and boxers. Bryan found a sleepy Claudio to be very cute. The little downturn of his lips until he got coffee, half lidded eyes, totally dreamy look. Before Claudio could kneel in front of him, Bryan waved him off.

“You did enough of that last night. Get in my lap, you deserve it.” He put the book aside as he moved himself into a comfortable position for Claudio to straddle. “That’s a good boy.”

It shouldn’t be so easy for a man that size to so easily fold onto Bryan’s lap, but he was frequently in this position. The heavy weight of Claudio eased onto him, knees resting comfortably against Bryan and the seat. Both arms went around Bryan’s neck as he reached around to hold Claudio at the waist.

“What do I have to do to get you to relax?” Bryan questioned, his hand stroking the back of the other’s neck. “You were a good champ. You’ll be a good champion again.”

There was a small shake of his head causing Bryan to sigh. Claudio had a hard time with the fall from grace. Even if he kept himself together at the surface, Bryan was there to see through the well put together facade. Gently, his hands started to sneak up under the back of Claudio’s (Mox’s) hoodie. The tender bruises being caressed made Claudio shiver. The damaged expanse of Claudio’s back was still smooth under Bryan’s fingers as he started to work out some of the muscle tension. 

“Look at me,” Bryan’s soft command was enough to make Claudio lean back to look at him. Sad, warm brown eyes looking to Bryan for relief. “I know you’re having a hard time right now, but you have to tell me what you need. Even if it’s not in English.” They had spent the night running the gambit on punishment and discipline, things Bryan knew helped normally but didn’t seem to  make a dent this time.

Quietly Claudio spoke in his native language. A request, as well as a confession, that was not meant to be understood. Sometimes it was a communication barrier, but sometimes it also helped Claudio admit things he regularly struggled to express. The larger man didn’t have to know Bryan had been working on his understanding of Swiss German. Of course his understanding wasn’t perfect but at least Claudio was talking now. 

“Good boy.” Bryan reached up to put a hand on Claudio’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Rewarding honesty. 

“You should be taking care of Mox, not--”

“Stop, Claudio.” Bryan’s voice was firm, his brows knitted together to show he wasn’t pleased with that. “If I needed to be with Mox, I would be. I need to be with you. I love you, too.”

That admission almost made Claudio flinch. Bryan started rubbing his thighs. As much as he loved and appreciated Claudio, when the other man got like this it became incredibly hard for Bryan, or anyone, to get a read on his sub’s needs. A constant was Claudio’s enjoyment of being touched, it always helped in every situation. Yuta most certainly didn’t get nearly as much out of the tactical work, and Mox almost exclusively wanted everything harder. Bryan knew he was much quicker with his other two, easier to jump into action because he knew what they needed, but Claudio was a continuing challenge for him. He had to work to distract Claudio as he formed his plan, going over everything he could recall as quickly as possible. 

“You know what?” Bryan smiled up at the other man. “I need to clear my head a little while I think about how to help you.” 

“Clear your head?” Claudio questioned. “You’ve run this morning already.”

“You’re right. I need something to relax me.” Bryan shifted his hands up Claudio’s thighs and around his hips to message the perky ass just barely concealed in the well worn boxers. “I love these boxers.” He mumbled as they started to rock against each other. “This soft pink looks good on you.”

“They used to be red.” Claudio mentioned, feeling slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t thrown them out yet. “I should have thrown them out a few years ago.”

“They’re your favorite pair.” Bryan shook his head. “I can tell they’re older because you’re more muscular now. You fill them out better.”

“A polite way of saying they’re too small.” Even though it was clear Claudio was joking Bryan quickly shook his head.

“I want you to accept the compliment.” Bryan hooked his fingers into the (apparently) faded red material. “And take these off.”

“Yes, Sir.” Claudio shifted up to start taking off his shorts.

“It’s daddy this morning.” Bryan distinguished. “Sir was last night.” He ran his fingers over the welts he left on Claudio’s ass.

“Daddy.”

The word stuck in Claudio’s mouth in a clumsy way that always turned Bryan on a little more than it should. Like it was something so foreign to his vocabulary that it didn’t make sense. Once the shorts were removed, Bryran stopped him from taking off the hoodie. It was cute. Bryan pushed his cotton running shorts down a little, allowing his dick to spring free. Of course he was hard. Anyone would be with 232 pounds of beautiful, sexy Swiss man in their lap. 

There was always lube stashed somewhere. That was Mox’s doing. Bryan always had some in a pocket or bag, but this one time he was thankful to be able to get a bottle fished out between the cushions. A tiny smirk crossed his face when he found it. Claudio was a sensualist and cooling lube was one of those things that really got to him. The screw cap was silent, and the touch of the lube was entirely a surprise. The gel was a decent temperature, but quickly Claudio arched into Bryan as it started to leave a cool trail between his cheeks. Bryan’s fingers encouraged it to spread, and slip down to circle the tight ring of muscles. 

“Daddy.” Claudio breathed in sharply as the first finger pushed into him. “Oh.” 

“That’s it. Focus on the feeling.” Bryan’s soft words made the man in his lap shiver. The hand not currently engaged reached up to shield Claudio’s eyes from the rising sun. “Just feel. Don’t think. Don’t move. I’m going to take what I need, and all you have to do is let me. I’ll tell you exactly what I want. Understood?”

“Yes,” Claudio nodded against the hand shielding his eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Perfect. Keep your eyes closed.”

The finger loosening up Claudio was joined by another. Slowly Bryan finger fucked his sub as his other hand untied the bandana holding his hair back. The fabric was sweaty from his run, and dirty from the trail. He pressed it into Claudio’s hands.

“Blindfold yourself.”

Claudio followed orders easily and quickly wrapped the material around his eyes. There was some tension that got released as one of Claudio’s senses was removed. On a whim, Bryan grabbed the faded-to-pink shorts off the couch and stuffed them into Claudio’s slightly open mouth. The larger man only barely pulled back before relaxing again and accepting the gag. 

“Good boy.” Bryan grinned to himself because he had figured it out. Another Claudio puzzle seemingly solved. “I want to finish some of my book in peace. So, all I want is for you to rest against me.”

The answer Bryan got was just a muffled moan. He withdrew his fingers and poured some lube on his cock. Even though his hands were messy Bryan gripped Claudio’s hips and positioned him right where he wanted and slowly started to push in. 

“That’s good.” Bryan moaned as he sank deeper and deeper into the other. “Still loosened up for me from last night. I did a good job on you.”

It was a little hard for Bryan to not just fuck Claudio and leave it at that. Maybe he’d even go back to sleep. But that wasn’t the plan. After a few lazy thrusts and some more lube, Bryan brought him all the way down and kept him there.

“Good boy. Very good.” Bryan’s voice had an edge of a tremble to it but then again he was balls deep in Claudio. “If you can be still for me, let me relax and read, then I’ll reward you.”

“Yes, Daddy.” The words were almost too muffled but Bryan was able to just make out the sounds.

Once he was positive Claudio was situated, he was able to take up his book again. Reading it wasn’t really the goal anymore. Right now it was about giving Claudio a purpose, a way of serving Bryan that didn’t involve pain or punishment. Warming his cock on a nice, early morning while he read before breakfast was the perfect way for them to relax together.

In ten or fifteen minutes–maybe twenty if Claudio really slipped under–Bryan would flip them over and fuck Claudio good and slow until he begged to come. After that they’d go make breakfast together, which would consist of Bryan having Claudio cook for him and make their coffee. Hopefully it’d be the restart that Claudio needed. For now, Bryan was pretty content to cuddle his Swiss giant sitting on his dick.

3: YUTA (Penance)

The cold metal cage clicked into place, the lock secured with a disapproving grunt. The key was placed on a chain and draped over Bryan’s neck. The metal swinging against his chest as Yuta stared at it. The key would stay on Bryan and the cage on Yuta until his next win.

“Christ. Would you two hurry the fuck up?” Mox groaned loudly from the bed. He had to be forcibly separated from Claudio. “Stop mind-fucking him, Bry. He knows he lost. Let’s go.”

“You’re working yourself into the same punishment if you’re not careful, Mox.” Bryan shot back without looking away from Yuta. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been since Claudio busted that big bitch up?” Mox moaned dreamily as he reimagined the earlier fight.

“Patience, Jon.” Claudio smiled happily as he knelt on the bed and leaned over the brattiest of them all. “I’m going to fuck you for the rest of the night. Over and over again until you’re so exhausted you’re begging me to stop.”

“Fuck, fuck.” Mox whined as he arched up into the body above him. “Watching you beat the shit out of Josh was so hot, man. Like fuck.” His hands went up to grope Claudio’s chest. “You’re so fucking strong.”

“Claudio.” Bryan tossed a bottle of lube at the two on the bed. “Start getting Mox ready. Wheeler, since you like running your mouth so much, let’s put it to good use. Over the edge of the bed, suck Mox off while I get you ready.”

“Bein’ a little hard on the kid, aren’t ya, Bry?” Mox giggled a little as he was dragged down the bed by Claudio. 

“I hate it when you get on commentary.” Bryan reached out to tug at the collar on Mox. “You get more mouthy than normal. If Wheeler makes you come before Claudio is ready to fuck you then you take Wheeler’s punishment until he wins his next match.”

“Oh, challenge accepted.” Yuta perked up at that but then Bryan shoved him face first into Mox’s crotch. 

“That’s not a challenge, Wheeler. It’s a warning to Mox. Now get to work. All three of you.” Bryan threw a look at Claudio to get going.

A tiny smirk crossed Claudio’s face as he started to work Mox open. It was going to be his victory prize. While Claudio worked Mox open like it was his sole purpose to make Mox scream like he had on commentary, Bryan on the other hand took care of Yuta with clinical efficiency. At some point Bryan took Yuta’s hands and pinned them behind his back, making him grunt loudly at being off balance. 

“You’re ready. Let’s go.” Bryan slapped the side of Yuta’s ass. “Claudio, take your prize.”

It was like letting a dog off the leash. Claudio practically pounced on Mox, who found it very erotic to be covered by the big man. Of course after watching that match, Mox turned Claudio’s celebration into a tussle. The pair grappled naked on the bed, laughter and gotchas sounding out. The act of physically dominating Mox was one of Claudio’s favorite forms of foreplay. 

While the pair struggled and moaned against each other, Bryan sat in one of the deep hotel chairs that had a perfect view of the bed. Guiding hands moved Yuta to face the bed as well before taking hold of his hips and easing him down. The easy glide of Bryan made Yuta moan despite trying to hold it in. This was a punishment, after all. Cruel fingers reached around to wrap around the unforgiving metal cage. 

“Keep my cock warm until Claudio is finished with Mox.” Bryan rattled the cage as he sank into the warm, familiar feeling of Yuta. “I want you to watch them. That could have been you.” 

Yuta wasn’t sure if Bryan meant he could have been Mox or Claudio. Either way it was his loss. Losing was why he was currently caged. With a sigh he settled back into Bryan and watched as Claudio threw Mox into the side of the bed and bent him over, hips pressing into hips as Claudio fought to pin the squirming man’s hands down. Quietly he would keep Bryan warm until Claudio was done and Bryan got his victory lap with Mox. It could have been him.

+1: EDDIE (Intimate)

There are a lot of reasons why Bryan wouldn’t seek this person out for any kind of help, but he did actually have two very trusted recommendations. In fact, Mox texted him that he told Eddie that Bryan was already on his way. Unfair of Mox, but warranted. Bryan frowned as he found himself knocking on the door of Eddie Kingston’s hotel room. 

“Come in!” Eddie called out loudly from inside. “Lock it, would ya?” 

“Yeah. Sure.” Bryan frowned as he stepped into the room, locking the door behind him. 

“I’m just finishing up.” Eddie had the bathroom door open. Steam was flowing around Eddie as he dried himself off with a towel. “Mox gave me a bit of a run down. I’m doin’ it as a favor to him,” Eddie paused, looking Bryan up and down. “And you look like you could use it.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Bryan glared.

“Stop being so sensitive.” Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed. “I meant it. Come in here.” 

There was only a split second of hesitation before Bryan went into the bathroom. One of the towels was tossed onto the floor in front of the sink. Bryan eyed it and the rest of the stuff on the counter top. Eddie cleared his throat.

“On your knees, gecko boy.” Eddie was grabbing his toothbrush.

“Gecko? Gecko boy?” Bryan glared up at Eddie as he knelt down, annoyed that he didn’t get whatever insult. 

“Yeah. Dragon’s are just fuckin’ lizards and you’re a small one at that.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Get my dick in your mouth while I finish up. Keep your hands behind your back and shit.”

“Eloquent.” Bryan mumbled as he shifted around on his knees before taking Eddie into his mouth. A little moan escaped him.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” Eddie reached down to stroke Bryan’s hair. “Just try to stop fuckin’ thinkin’ about shit, alright?”

Eddie easily filled out his mouth and Bryan centered himself on his breathing. Meanwhile, Eddie brushed his teeth and cleaned up his beard. And maybe a few other tasks, but Bryan's brain was starting to get fuzzy so he stopped paying attention. He could have stayed like that for hours, his mouth tightly wrapped around Eddie’s hard length. Neither of his stable mates were lying when they said Eddie had a good dick. It was easy to find himself drifting, especially with how little Eddie seemed to care he was there. He wondered what insight Mox had given him.

“Alright, alright.” Eddie pulled away from Bryan, not even pushing the kneeling man from him but walking away. “Follow. Hands and knees, gecko.”

“Seriously?” Bryan glared, not sure if he was balking at the insulting nickname or the crawling. 

“Don’t play. I know you like to crawl.” Eddie shrugged as he kept walking away.

It was simply left up to Bryan to do as he was told or not. With an annoyed sigh, he crawled after Eddie. It took a while for him to catch up. By then, Eddie was lounging in his bed with SportsCenter going. There was an absent handwave as Eddie called Bryan up onto the bed. The mattress dipped with Bryan’s weight as he got up and crawled towards Eddie. 

“Lay down on your side.” Eddie motioned.

“That’s…” Bryan glanced at the spot on the bed. 

“What? A little intimate? I’m about to put my dick in you. Lie the fuck down.” Eddie shook his head, but didn’t seem nearly as pressed as he should be considering how annoying he found the ‘little vegan freak.’

“Fuck. Okay, fine.” Bryan laid himself down, facing away from the other, but then Eddie stopped him.

“Nah. Changed my mind. Here,” Eddie started pulling Bryan on top of him. “Mox got you all ready for me, right?” 

“Yeah.” Bryan admitted, a blush rushing up his face. At first Bryan had insisted he could handle it, but Mox convinced him otherwise. Considering the thick length Bryan got a taste of in the bathroom, he should remember to thank Mox for that. 

“Good. Hop on then.” Eddie put his arms behind his head and looked off towards the TV like nothing was happening. As if Bryan was borrowing a tool from his garage. 

“Thanks, I guess…” Bryan grumbled as he got himself over Eddie. “Oh, fuck.” Bryan let out a little puff of air. “I see why Mox talks your dick up so much.” Slowly Bryan eased himself down.

“Ah, Mox. All that guy needs is a big dick with a rough thrust and he’s happy.” Eddie reached over to the bedside table to grab cigarettes. “You gonna freak out?” 

“Don’t have much of a say, right? After all, Mox called in a big favor.” Bryan pointed out, just holding back his glare as he found himself fully seated on Eddie’s lap.

“Good answer.” Eddie winked before thrusting sharply up to make Bryan moan. “Good answers get rewards, gecko.”

“You’re seriously sticking with gecko?” Bryan groaned as he was slowly fucked. 

“Yup.” Eddie sighed, his eyes closing as he started lighting the cigarette. “Ya know,” Eddie opened his eyes to look the other up and down. “I can objectively admit you’re pretty hot. Your core…” His fingers dipped between the muscles of Bryan’s abs down to the Apollo’s belt. “You got that sexy outdoorsman thing going, too.” But his eyes fluttered back to the TV as he took another drag.

“Did Mox tell you to sweet talk me?” Bryan almost laughed, thinking Eddie was just playing with him or saying something he wanted to hear.

“Nah. Look at me,” Eddie reached up to take Bryan’s chin in his hand. “Everything else gets left at the door when I do this shit. I don’t need to fuck with you or lie to you right now when you’re vulnerable. If I’m saying somethin’ it’s fuckin’ true, got it?” Eddie waited for a nod before he continued. “When Mox asked the favor I said yes because you needed something. I may think you’re annoying, I may not like you too much, but you asked for help and that gets respect in my book. Especially shit like this.”

Bryan blinked hard at Eddie. This wasn’t what he was expecting when he got sent down this path. It wasn’t an unfair assumption that Eddie was begrudgingly doing this for Mox because he loves Mox, but as it turned out Eddie was just…a good dom. If Regal was still here…Bryan shook his head away from Eddie’s grip to rid himself of those thoughts.

“Hey, whatever the fucks going on up here--” Eddie tapped the side of Bryan’s head. “It’s my job to help ya leave it at the door, too.” Eddie pitched his barely-smoked cigarette. “So, you like fuckin’ basketball or what?”

“Basketball is good.” Bryan agreed as he felt the tug from Eddie to lay on his chest. 

A blanket was pulled up around them as Bryan settled into the position. Eddie was still inside him and he actually started to relax into the embrace. It felt strange, but it started to become easier. Eddie was gentle, one of his hands resting on Bryan’s back while the other scrolled his phone a bit. Mostly Bryan felt ignored, but also cared for, which was maybe exactly what he needed. He felt connected to a very unlikely person and let himself drift off. Away from the match and the loss and…

“Like a gecko sleepin’ on a rock.” Eddie mumbled, like he could sense the thoughts forming again in Bryan’s head. 

“Fine.” Bryan laughed a little as he relented. This softer side of Eddie drew him in, completely unexpected. “Don’t you dare tell Mox.”

“Oh, sweet little gecko, I’m going to be callin’ you that from now on.” Eddie smirked. 

“Asshole.” Bryan shook his head then found himself burrowing into Eddie’s neck a little more. 

Mox gets to the mansion late, coming home from Japan, and smiles when he sees Claudio and Yuta laying on the couch. Claudio lifts his head and smiles at him.  “Sorry, were you sleepin’?” Mox mutters softly. 

“No, Yuta wasn’t feeling well but wanted to wait for you, so I offered to stay and lay with him.” He whispers back as he looks down at the young man lying on his chest and rubbing his back.  Mox raises his eyebrows and comes over to feel Yuta’s forehead. “He does feel warm;” he realizes, “come on, let’s go to bed and let him rest.”

Mox tries to help Claudio get up slow enough to let Yuta stay asleep but he wrinkles his nose and wakes up with a groan. “Mox?” He asks groggily.  “Yeah kid, just got home so let’s go to bed and get some sleep, okay?” Mox smirks, holding his hand out to pull Yuta up and hug him when he stands.  Claudio stands and waits for Yuta to sleepily pull away from the hug before scooping him up in his arms. “I’ll carry you.” He chuckles as Yuta tries to struggle. “Claudio-.” Yuta protests but Mox cuts him off.

“Yer warm puppy; be a good boy and let Swiss carry ya ta bed.” Mox mutters firmly, walking ahead of them up the stairs so he can open the bedroom door and pull back the covers. 

Claudio lays Yuta down and quickly lays beside him so he can lay on his chest again and Mox can hug against his back. “I’m glad you’re home safe with us Mox.” Yuta grins into Claudio’s chest.

“Me too puppy, me too.” Mox rasps into his ear. “Now sleep, I love y’all.” He chuckles, kissing the back of Yuta’s head before relaxing to sleep himself.

Title is from Lovesong by The Cure Thank you @booboo-eyedbambi for helping me by asking for this, I hope you love it 😘