#bhbk

Bret had chased him to the back, the way he always did after DX clashed with the Hart Foundation, playing up their feud for the crowd in the stands and the people at home. Once they disappeared behind the curtains, however, the cameras stopped following them, and suddenly Bret wasn’t chasing him out of gorilla, through the arena halls, and into their shared locker room because he wanted to beat the living hell out of him. Suddenly, as soon as the cameras were turned away, he was chasing him for another reason altogether.

That reason had Shawn whirling around as soon as he ran into their locker room so he could meet Bret when he followed him past the threshold, shoving him back against the door and using their weight to slam it shut behind him. His hands went to the lapels of Bret’s jacket, and Bret met him just as strongly when he pulled him in to crash their mouths together. It wasn’t soft, like the kisses they shared in the early morning, when Bret would sleepily complain about Shawn’s breath but let him peck along his cheeks and jaw and neck anyway - it was rough, and hot, and slick, with Bret opening his mouth and turning his head to let Shawn stick his tongue down his throat without breaking either of their noses, only to bite his lip so hard when he pulled away that Shawn felt the skin split.

He tasted blood when he ran his tongue over the split, and grinned at the way Bret’s chest was heaving under him, at his furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks, at the erection he could feel under Bret’s gear, pressing against his thigh. He shifted to more properly rub his leg up into Bret’s groin, and smiled wider when he hissed at the pressure - only to release a choked groan when Bret met his teasing with some of his own, reaching forward to slide his fingers through his hair, grab a handful, and pull. His throat was bared as his head was pulled back, and Bret capitalized on that, too, ducking forward to drag his teeth down from his jaw, just under his ear, down along where his pulse was beating rapidly in his neck and to his shoulder, where he bit him, hard, which did nothing but make Shawn groan again, louder this time. He pitched forward, throwing a hand out to catch himself better against the door below them and panting against Bret’s temple.

Bret ground against his thigh once, twice, and released his hold on his shoulder, no doubt leaving a bright hickey in his wake (one he’d later blush about having left, while Shawn ran his fingers over the sensitive skin and pressed down on it to make himself shiver), before laving his tongue back up his throat to growl into his ear, “Shower. Now.”

“Oh, shower, huh?” Shawn rumbled, low in his throat, and rubbed his thigh against Bret’s groin again, slowly, just to hear his breath hitch. He smirked. “You sure you don’t wanna do this right here? Against this door? Where anyone passing outside would be able to hear us?”

That earned him another pull on his hair, which may have, possibly, made him whine, and then Bret was pushing them away from the door, his other arm wrapped around Shawn’s bare waist so he could have the leverage to do so. Shawn only stumbled once before getting his feet back under him, and Bret, with his arms wrapped around him as they were, wouldn’t have let him fall anyway. “Unlike you,” Bret muttered, as he maneuvered them to the showers connected to the locker room. “I would prefer not to have half the goddamn arena hear you scream for me.”

Shawn nearly laughed. “Oh, just me, huh-?”

“And,” Bret continued pointedly, “I’m sure as hell not doing it in my ring gear, you harlot.”

“Harlot!” Shawn actually laughed, then, because that was a new one, and pulled away quickly enough to catch the proud little smile Bret thought he could tamp down before Shawn could see it.

The man then actually tamped it down and cleared his throat before letting Shawn go, to his vocal disappointment, which did nothing but make him roll his eyes as he started shrugging his jacket off, his movements still jerky from the adrenaline that had yet to wear off. Shawn was still feeling it, too. “Do you wanna get off tonight or not?”

“Say no more!”

With that motivation behind them, they were both naked soon enough, stopping just short of ripping their gears in their haste and with Shawn having only cursed Bret’s boots for being lace-up twice in the process - a new record. They were under a running shower head and in each other’s arms again soon after that, no longer sticky with sweat and instead rubbing on each other easy, fast, and slick from the water. It took some effort, trying to make out while water was spraying down on them, but they mostly just panted and groaned and swore into each other’s mouths anyway. They were sort of preoccupied, seeing as each of them had a hand around both of their cocks, forming a sort of tunnel to hump into that had the best pressure when one of them tightened their grip. They’d synced up, as well, and the feeling of their cocks rubbing together between their wet hands, especially with how fast they were moving, how hot Shawn’s blood was, was exactly what he needed - exactly what he’d wanted, when he’d antagonized Bret out in the ring. With the quiet noises Bret was making, the ones he could barely hear over the water pounding against them and the tile floor of the showers, he knew he wasn’t alone in that.

Bret’s other hand was in Shawn’s hair, tugging on it intermittently, just to get Shawn to gasp, while Shawn was using his other hand to grope Bret’s ass, having already left behind a score of red lines on his back, thanks to his nails. Squeezing, rubbing, scratching, he even pinched it once, which earned him a choked off grunt and a stuttered buck of his hips, something Shawn just smirked about before Bret growled and started biting on his lips again, swallowing the whimper he released when he gave his hair another pull, his scalp stinging pleasantly.

They didn’t last long, as could be expected, with their adrenaline high and with Shawn, frankly, having been hard even before Bret had chased him up the ramp and to the back. He came first as a result, the product of a million things - Bret moving down to nibble on the hickey he'd given him, Bret shifting his hand to place his thumb directly over the head of Shawn’s cock as he humped into it, Bret giving his hair a final, harsh yank that had stars bursting behind his eyes and the heat that had been bubbling low in his stomach to erupt into his thighs and the rest of his chest. He gasped and swore, loudly enough that someone outside the door might just have been able to hear him anyway, bucking wildly and grabbing a handful of Bret’s ass for leverage, and Bret let go of his hair to wrap his arm around his waist so his suddenly wobbly knees wouldn’t send him to the floor.

Shawn’s orgasm just seemed to spur Bret on, though, and as he shook through his aftershocks he felt him buck faster, harder, squeeze their cocks tighter, trying to reach his own climax. Shawn planted his chin on Bret’s shoulder as he did so, breathlessly egging him on, urging him to come for him, slipping his hand down Bret’s ass cheek to where it met his thigh, and then between his legs, gently brushing the pads of his middle and ring fingers against Bret’s entrance - and, when the contact made him curse and move his hips even faster, sloppily, now, he pressed on it harder, rubbing at it like he could slip his fingers inside without any lube.

Bret clutched at him when he came not even two thrusts later, slack-jawed against Shawn’s shoulder, where he’d left that hickey, and Shawn only winced a little at how tight his grip on his over sensitive cock became as he rode out his own aftershocks. Shawn had to hold him up this time, slipping his arms around him as they both came down, Shawn’s breathing only slightly less heavy than Bret’s. The water sounded suddenly louder, now that they weren’t so… distracted, he guessed, with each other, and Bret lifted himself off of his shoulder and let go of both of their cocks when he did so, curling his arm around Shawn’s back, settling them both into a loose embrace.

“I didn’t pull any hair out, did I?” he asked, his eyes half-lidded, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks still flushed - from the heat of the shower and his orgasm both - and Shawn, who was sure he looked just as wrecked, and whose lip was still split, just offered him a crooked smile, and raised a hand to brush some of Bret’s wet hair from his forehead. He always found it so endearing that Bret asked that, every time they got rough with one another. No matter how hard he fucked him, how many hickeys or finger-shaped bruises he left, he always asked about his hair, because he knew Shawn would be devastated if he ever did wind up pulling some out.

He didn’t have to worry, though. “Mm, don’t think so,” he assured him, and stepped back slightly so the water could get between them and wash away any come that might be trying to stick around. Getting it out of his chest hair was always a pain. “Gonna have to try harder than that, Hitman.”

“Ha ha,” Bret deadpanned, rolling his eyes, but leaned forward to give him a lingering, slow kiss anyway - another post-rough-after-match-session tradition. He even gave him another one, just on his bottom lip, to apologize for splitting the skin, even though Shawn only ever complained about it to tease him. “You’re a real comedian, you know that, Michaels?”

“I dunno,” he said, in a playful, lilting tone, smiling wider when Bret reached behind him to grab a washcloth and bar of soap to start lathering it up. “A real comedian would’ve stayed at the door and let half the arena hear him-”

“Alright,” Bret snipped at him, swatting him with the washcloth, and Shawn laughed at the way his blush darkened and traveled down his neck with embarrassment. It was exactly why he teased him about it so often - yeah, Shawn had an exhibitionism kink, and practically anyone and everyone knew it, but watching Bret go bright red and sputter about the impropriety, about getting caught, whenever he brought it up, that was one of his favorite parts. He’d have to actually incorporate it into his dirty talk one day; he could only imagine what it would do to his Hitman. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Aww, but Bret-!”

“No.” Bret just started scrubbing the washcloth across Shawn’s shoulders, deliberately staring at his collarbone to avoid eye contact. “Now shut up and take your shower like a man.”