#hartbreak

Shawn checked himself out in the full-length mirror, his fingers smoothing over the fabric as he made the final adjustments to his outfit. Today was Bret’s birthday, their very first milestone together since they had quietly started dating, and the Heartbreak Kid was absolutely determined to make it an unforgettable one. 

Because the realities of their world meant they couldn't share a public celebration or walk hand-in-hand outside, Shawn had decided that the real celebration would happen entirely behind closed doors. He had carefully used the hours Bret spent celebrating with his family to transform the quiet hotel room into a private sanctuary, counting down the minutes in the heavy silence.

Though they had been together for six months, they were only just beginning to truly let their guards down and explore their desires in bed. The inspiration for tonight had come from a quiet, half-whispered comment Bret had dropped during one of their late-night conversations that Shawn had secretly locked away in his mind. 

Shawn took the pink satin ribbon from the table beside him, carefully wrapping it around his neck and tying it into a neat, perfect bow, the literal wrapping on Bret's birthday present. Stepping back, he checked the mirror one last time. 

The sheer, intricate pink lace of the panties offered a deliciously sharp contrast against his warm, golden skin, hugging his frame in all the right places. Below it, the delicate garter straps pulled taut, expertly secured to the tops of light pink satin stockings that clung smoothly to his thighs, highlighting the athletic cut of his legs. Satisfied with the reflection staring back at him, Shawn finally turned away from the mirror. He climbed onto the mattress, arranging himself in a relaxed, teasing pose right in the center of the bed, and picked up the remote to turn on the TV, counting down the minutes until his boyfriend walked through the door.

The sound of the key turning in the door made Shawn’s heart skip a beat, a sudden rush of adrenaline replacing his relaxed posture. He quickly muted the TV and draped himself across the mattress, propping his chin up with one hand while the other casually traced the satin line of his pink stocking. He flashed his most dazzling, playful smile just as the bedroom door pushed open.

Bret stepped into the room, looking exhausted from a long evening of family obligations. He was already reaching up to loosen his leather jacket when his eyes locked onto the bed.

The Hitman froze. He felt light headed as the blood rushed from his head.

“Happy Birthday, Bret!” Shawn said, his beautiful smile still plastered on his face. Bret threw his jacket to the side and went straight to bed, kissing Shawn’s lips hard. “Is this my birthday gift?” Bret’s voice was a whisper as he lightly traced the ribbon tied around Shawn’s throat. “You didn’t tell me what you wanted, so I had to improvise.” Shawn gave a light kiss to Bret’s still slightly parted lips and lied on his back, beckoning Bret over with one of his fingers. 

Shawn’s smirk only widened as Bret hovered over him, the quiet dominance radiating off the older man making Shawn’s heart race with excitement. "Do you like your wrapping paper?" Shawn whispered, deliberately arching his back to press his golden skin closer to Bret's chest. Bret didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of Shawn's neck, inhaling his scent before leaving a sharp, bruising kiss right beneath the pink bow.

His hands then found Shawn's hips, his rough palms scraping against the delicate, sheer pink lace. The contrast was dizzying. For Bret Shawn had always been a walking contradiction, his beautiful face contrasted with hard muscle, his athletic physique, mixed with his thin waist and round ass, his rough and deep voice that made no sense coming out of the beautiful man. Now the soft pink lingerie added another layer of contrast.

Bret’s gaze traveled down, taking in the taut garter straps and the smooth satin of the light pink stockings hugging Shawn’s thighs. Bret let out a low, rough growl, his thumb deliberately stroking the bare skin exposed just above the stocking line. Shawn let out a soft, teasing gasp, his fingers instantly tangling in Bret’s hair, loving the exact moment the quiet Hitman lost his legendary composure.

With his free hand, Bret slowly slid two fingers under the pink satin ribbon at Shawn’s throat, tugging just enough to make Shawn look up at him. "You shouldn't have done this if you expected me to be gentle, heartbreaker," Bret murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver right down Shawn's spine. 

The warning sent a delicious spark of heat straight to Shawn’s core, making him shiver beneath Bret’s heavy frame. Before Shawn could even whisper a comeback, Bret leaned down and captured his lips again, this time with a fierce, possessive hunger that completely consumed him. Bret’s hands were everywhere—pinning Shawn’s wrists above his head, smoothing over the tight pink lace, and gripping the bare, golden skin of his thighs just above the stockings. Shawn completely lost himself in the sensation, abandoning his playful demeanor to match the raw, dominant energy Bret was finally letting loose.

The playful smirk completely faded from Shawn’s face, replaced by a soft, needy whine as Bret’s hands grew heavier, bolder, and far more demanding in their exploration. Those rough palms dragged slowly over the sheer pink lace, tracing the high curve of his waist before gripping his hips with a possessive strength. When Bret finally pulled back from the kiss, breaking the seal of their lips with a wet, lingering gasp, Shawn felt entirely breathless.

“Please, Bret… I need you…” Shawn moaned, his voice cracking slightly, the husky depth of it vibrating in the quiet room.

Bret didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stared down at him, his dark eyes dilated with a quiet, simmering hunger that made Shawn’s heart hammer against his ribs. Using his superior strength, Bret moved Shawn deliberately. He slid his hands under Shawn's thighs, lifting and turning him with an effortless power that left Shawn completely helpless under his touch, until the younger man was forced onto his hands and knees against the mattress.

The pink satin stockings shifted slightly against the sheets as Shawn stabilized himself. Bret hovered close behind, his heat radiating over Shawn’s. He leaned down, placing a slow, searing kiss right over the small heart tattoo on Shawn's hip, letting his lips linger against the golden skin. Then, with a sudden, sharp crack that echoed through the room, Bret brought his palm down in a stinging slap right over the mark.

Shawn gasped, arching his back as a rush of heat bloomed across his skin. Before he could recover, Bret pressed his heavy chest against Shawn’s back, leaning over his shoulder to whisper darkly into his ear. “Eager are we?" 

Instead of pulling off the lace panties as Shawn had expected, Bret simply hooked two fingers into the soft pink fabric and pulled them slowly to the side. A low, dark chuckle vibrated against Shawn’s back as Bret’s fingertips brushed against the smooth, cold plastic of the plug that had been hidden beneath. 

It had been a gift from Bret months ago. Shawn could still vividly remember how flushed and nervous the normally stoic Hitman had looked when handing it over, terrified the blonde would take offense. Instead, Shawn had secretly adored it, even if his own pride had made him too ashamed to admit it out loud at the time.

“You really thought about everything, huh?” Bret murmured, his voice thick with amusement. 

Shawn felt a deep, burning blush spread from his cheeks down to his neck, his face pressing harder into the mattress. He gasped as Bret’s large hand cupped his hip firmly, while the fingers of his other hand securely gripped the base of the toy. With a slow, agonizingly deliberate tug, Bret lined it up and pulled it out. The sudden release made Shawn shiver, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as Bret carelessly tossed the slick plastic onto the mattress right beside Shawn’s head. Keeping the pink lace pinned to the side, Bret slid two thick fingers into Shawn’s slick warmth, stretching him open just enough to expose how desperately ready he was.

Standing to adjust his focus, the Hitman moved with purposeful energy. He leaned his frame over Shawn’s trembling form, reaching out toward the items Shawn had neatly laid out on the nightstand earlier that evening.

But just as Bret reached for the small foil packet, a sudden movement stopped him. Shawn had shifted, blindly reaching back to grip Bret’s wrist, shaking his head against the sheets. His arms had finally given out from the tension, leaving him resting heavily against the bed, but he forced his head up just enough to look back over his shoulder. Bret’s brows furrowed, his intense gaze shifting instantly from confusion to a deep, protective worry. “Shawn?” 

“No barriers this time,” Shawn breathed out, his voice a raw, breathless plea that echoed through the quiet room. “I want to feel this connection between us... completely.” The lingering worry in Bret’s dark eyes evaporated in an instant, utterly consumed by a sudden, intense wave of affection and raw desire. The quiet dominance returned tenfold. Without a word, Bret set the packet back onto the table. He turned his attention back to Shawn, his movements slowing as he prepared to bridge the final distance between them, a sharp, ragged breath escaping his lungs as he focused entirely on the person before him. 

Bret squirted some of the lube onto his hand, let out a sharp hiss between his teeth as he coated his aching length, and slowly withdrew his fingers from Shawn. He took his time, lining himself up against the blonde’s trembling, exposed heat. With his other hand, he kept his large fingers hooked into the pink lace panties, pinning the fabric firmly to the side to keep Shawn completely open to him. 

The Hitman delivered a slow, calculated thrust that had Shawn immediately crying out into the quiet room. Bret didn't rush, he pushed deeper with every ragged breath Shawn took, stretching the younger wrestler millimeter by millimeter until he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside him. Once the fit was total, Bret released the pink lace and wrapped his large hand firmly around Shawn’s hip to anchor him. He used his other hand to gently pull Shawn’s blonde hair to the side, baring his neck to leave a deep, bruising mark right beneath the pink satin ribbon.

Shawn arched his back sharply against the mattress, his senses completely overloaded. "Please… move, Bret…" he pleaded between breathless whines.

Bret answered with a sharp, heavy drive of his hips, drawing a deep moan from the back of Shawn's throat. The control was entirely Bret's now as he established a hard, unyielding pace, deliberately angling himself to hit Shawn in all the right places. But the Hitman wasn’t as composed as he appeared; he was practically delirious. The feel of the sheer pink lace rubbing against his skin with every deep thrust was driving him over the edge far faster than usual, shattering his legendary patience.

As the intensity reached a fever pitch, the physical boundary between them seemed to blur into pure, raw emotion. Bret shifted his weight and pulled Shawn’s body up from the mattress, his hand wrapping firmly around the blonde’s neck to anchor him. Shawn eagerly welcomed the change in position. He reached up, tangling his fingers into Bret’s hair to pull the Hitman down into a deep, bruising kiss.

Shawn sought the familiar comfort of Bret’s presence, his heart racing with a longing that had built up throughout the night. As they moved together, every touch was amplified by the intricate lace of the fabric between them. The sensation was overwhelming.

With his other hand, Shawn finally reached down to grip his own erection, which had been left entirely neglected and aching the entire night. The movements through the night caused the head of his cock to peek free from the top waistband of the panties. But instead of freeing himself completely, Shawn chose to keep the fabric right where it was. 

He wrapped his hand around his length directly through the damp, sheer pink material, deliberately taking a tight hold of himself through the lace. He used the rough, intricate texture of the floral patterns as extra friction against his sensitive skin to get himself off. The unique sensation of the lace rubbing against him with every stroke, combined with the intense friction of Bret moving deep inside him, created an overwhelming wave of pleasure that made his thighs tremble violently against the mattress.

"Bret… I’m close…" Shawn breathed against Bret's lips, his voice trembling with a raw vulnerability. Hearing his name spoken with such genuine emotion shattered whatever restraint Bret had left. The Hitman's movements grew more fervent, his quiet strength giving way to a desperate, passionate need to be near Shawn as they both approached their peak. He buried his face in the crook of Shawn's neck, his breath warm and erratic.

"Cum for me, baby," Bret whispered, his gravelly voice thick with intensity. That whisper was the catalyst Shawn needed. With a loud, breathless cry of release, Shawn gave himself over completely to the moment, his entire body shuddering before going limp against Bret’s chest.

Feeling the tight, rhythmic waves of Shawn’s climax pulsing directly around him the Hitman completely lost himself. For the past six months, they had been careful, navigating boundaries in secret, but right now, there was nothing between them. The raw, direct heat of cumming inside Shawn for the very first time since they started dating sent an overwhelming jolt straight through Bret's core. It felt deeply possessive and intimate.

Bret let out a low, ragged growl, driving himself deep one last time as his own climax hit him in heavy, erratic waves. He poured himself entirely into Shawn's aching warmth, his heart hammering violently against the younger man’s back. The shared release sent a ripple of absolute peace through them both. Bret held Shawn tightly, pinning him against his chest and anchoring him with a deep, possessive affection, before their racing heartbeats eventually began to slow down in the aftermath.

Bret slowly laid down on his side, keeping Shawn tightly pressed against his chest to give them both time to catch their breath. The room was perfectly still, filled only by the sound of their ragged breathing gradually synchronizing. Once Bret’s racing heart finally slowed down to a steady rhythm, he carefully detached himself from Shawn’s inviting warmth with a soft hiss, the cool air of the hotel room immediately hitting their skin. Shawn let out a sleepy, needy whine at the sudden loss of contact, prompting Bret to stretch out his arm and wrap it securely back around the blonde's hip to keep him grounded.

After a while, Bret finally slipped out of bed, stripping off the last of his own clothes before heading into the bathroom. He took a moment to relieve himself and retrieved a warm, damp towel to care for his boyfriend. When he returned to the bedroom, Shawn had shifted positions, dragging his exhausted body to lay comfortably on the correct side of the bed 

Bret climbed back onto the bed, his large hands slowly caressing Shawn’s inner thighs, gently opening the blonde’s legs to fully expose him. He looked down in pure awe, watching as his own white seed slowly leaked out from inside Shawn's body. Mesmerized by the sight, Bret couldn't help himself; he slid a single, thick finger back inside, carefully pushing his fluid deep into his boyfriend’s aching heat. At the sudden intrusion, he saw Shawn’s cock twitch slightly against his lower stomach, a quiet, broken moan slipping past the blonde's parted lips at the unexpected friction. Only when he was fully satisfied did Bret finally withdraw his finger and pick up the wet towel, taking his time to slowly and thoroughly clean his boyfriend.

With a soft smile, Bret used the towel to gently care for his partner, making sure he was comfortable and settled. He then carefully helped Shawn out of the remaining pieces of his birthday attire. He noted the faint marks the material had left behind, a lingering reminder of the evening’s festivities, and smoothed them over with the pads of his thumbs until Shawn looked completely at ease.

Shawn let out a long breath of pure relief, looking up at Bret with undisguised adoration shining in his deep blue eyes. "So… what did you think about your gift?" Shawn asked, his voice noticeably rough and husky from the evening's activities.

Bret let out a low chuckle before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to Shawn’s lips. "I would say it was the best gift I’ve ever received."

"Good. I also bought you a cake in case this didn’t work," Shawn murmured playfully. At that, Bret laughed, a real, hearty laugh that was incredibly rare to hear coming from the ever-stoic Hitman. Shawn had always possessed a unique, effortless way of completely disarming him.

"Where is this cake? I wouldn’t want it to go to waste," Bret asked, his tone thick with amusement. "Don’t worry, it’s in the fridge." As Shawn spoke, Bret's gaze drifted over to the corner of the room, finally noticing that the hotel's mini-fridge had been rearranged. Shawn had clearly made a significant effort to clear enough space to keep the birthday treat chilled. Spreading some of the original contents of the fridge on the counter in the process

"Now lay down here and turn off the light. I’m dead tired," Shawn grumbled affectionately, the demand cut short by a heavy yawn.

It's down time and pretty much everyone's milling about ringside or running drills and they all hear Shawn, just like they've heard Bret all day, all week, all throughout this feud, but Bret's the only one taking pause, squaring the shoulders dramatically, giving the brow a good grumpy furrow. Shawn stands with hands on his hips and watches the shrewd eyes and lets him open up that grimacing mouth, think Shawn's gonna let him get off another verbal shot — then barrels over him: "Bret, I really think you'll get over with me better in the shower." He pivots and makes for the locker room. There's chortling from other wrestlers and a You would think that, wouldn't you from the Hitman.

Then he hears boots on tile striding after him.

"You think the ribbing's gone too far?" Bret asks.

Shawn waits until he's walked them into the corner of the stall furthest from the door, then turns around with his back against the crevasse between the damp walls. He leans, uncaring of what's befalling the shoulders of his cream sweater, or the crown of his honey-blonde head. He looks at Bret. Technically, the correct attire for a shower is naked, so he and Bret are both overdressed, but the Hitman is more incongruent with his surroundings than Shawn will ever be. He still doesn't get that the name of the game around the Fed these days is You can't deny Shawn Michaels.

"I might — if it were ribbing," Shawn says. "Increased frequency and escalation in the nature of a rib propels it out of rib territory at a certain point."

Bret stares at him, impatient. "And what's your point?"

Shawn grins. "You're not ribbing me. You're fucking repressed. No — no, hold on, let's stay here and finish. Iron Man can go an hour in the ring, can't go a few hard minutes with the Heartbreak Kid?" He'd caught Bret by the arm to keep him from leaving; Bret hasn't yanked him off yet, so Shawn slowly strokes that hand down leather-clad muscle until he's got Bret's wrist in a loose grip.

"There you go with your innuendos again."

"As opposed to yours? I'm giving garden-variety watchdog group scandals. You, on the other hand, are making it increasingly clear how much you want me. No, I said stay here."

"You know I don't have to take this, right?" Bret looks intense. But not in the I might break your body with a hold, kind of way, but the you might break my heart with a word, kind of way.

Shawn doesn't want to break his heart. He wants to be a little mean. He tilts his head, squinches up his own brow, gives his best confused bimbo. He keeps a hand on Bret and says, "But you clearly wanna take this, don't you? There's gay jokes, and then there's talking about barebacking and Shawn Michaels in the same sentence when nobody said shit about horses." Bret exhales loudly, and he still doesn't yank Shawn off, so Shawn keeps going. "I'm just saying, Hitman. It's all a little pointed."

Shawn's expecting him to fight a bit more, but it's like the fight goes out of him. He slumps suddenly. "Listen," says Bret Hart. "Assuming you're even serious —"

"— as a heart attack —"

"— I won't be another notch on your bedpost. I'm too old for that."

"The world's first sexually active geriatric under 40. We certainly do set records here at the Fed, don't we?"

"You asshole. I'm too old to be getting in silly entanglements with golden children at work."

"Because you can't keep up?"

"Because I can't afford to start over after your kind of fallout."

And uh, wow, Shawn kind of completely resents the idea that he'd uproot someone's career for such a stupid reason. It's 1996, a new millennium is around the corner, and showbiz has not ruined Shawn like that. He won't say it won't ever, but it hasn't yet.

Shawn pulls him in.

Bret falls against Shawn's body with the same sturdy grace Shawn knows so well from him in-ring. His arms about Shawn's waist and Shawn's arms about his neck. Bret's chin hooked over Shawn's shoulder. His face pressed into Shawn's hair. Shawn hoping Bret can smell the cologne sitting on his skin, just behind his ear. Shawn asking, barely above a murmur, "Does it have to be silly?" Winding a hand into the hair at the back of Bret's head. Saying, sweet: "I think it could be pretty nice."

"I got too much heat to stop," Bret says after a spell.

"You're too hot to stop cutting great goddamn promos," Shawn corrects. "Not to quit being a one-trick pony." The Hitman scoffs and pulls back some to tell Shawn off, but Shawn is too mesmerized by him to really hear whatever he's saying about hypocrisy and fame whoring and the like. With heart-eyes Shawn says his name over and over until he shuts up to listen. "Did I mention, 'you're too hot?'"

Bret exhales deeply, exasperated, and drags Shawn away from the corner with an iron grip on the waist, walks him out of the stall and into the big open space that feeds back into the main locker room. It's connected to the hallway leading out to the ring and everybody. Bret gets the two of them stood in the center of that space, and he's still got Shawn by the waist, and his hair is all in his eyes and clinging to tan skin. "Talk about 'pointed'," he says, just loud enough to carry. "Bitch and moan about one too many homo jokes on my part. You want that attention. 'What attention'—Planet Earth's attention, you exhibitionist, starting this drama out ringside in the first place, you hold no real anger about me or any acts I've associated with you in a beef—"