#valet!reader

At each of the windows, family members placed their personal menorahs on the sills. Your candelabra sat next to his, flush with the window so as not to overlap the candles. The shamash candles were passed around to collect the flame. As the sun was setting, the candles were lit at each window, warming the room with their light and passing the light into the cold world outside. Inside, the house lights remained on, keeping his family in view with more light than their menorahs. Max sang the blessings softly, watching you over the radiance of the candlelight. He stumbled over the words; ones that he’d been singing since his childhood. He kept watching your mouth as you talked, sang, or laughed during the rest of the evening. How your hands fluttered as you talked. The dress you wore was one he’d seen before. But how it swirled around your knees as you walked had him licking his lips and his hands running through his hair.

It took forever to say goodbye. The candles were snuffed out after half an hour. But it took another forty-five minutes before it was just the two of you and his parents. After final goodbyes and the drive home, you finally noticed how fidgety he seemed. You barely sat your menorahs in the front windows before he was mumbling about needing to do something and hurrying upstairs.

You shook your head. As much as he loved being the center of attention in the ring, you hoped the crowd of family hadn’t been too much. You gave him space. In the meantime, you cleaned the kitchen from your earlier rush to prepare the sweets you took to the lighting. With a sigh, you turned off the kitchen lights and headed up stairs.

But upstairs was dark too.

“Max?”

At first, you didn’t hear a reply. Then you noticed the glow coming from your bedroom.

“I’m back here,” Max finally responded.

When you stepped into the bedroom, you gasped. Every flat surface was covered in candles. Tea-lights, tall candles, even a string of fairy lights surrounded the bed. You kept your hands clasped over your chest. “What’s all this?”

“I… well,” he floundered while running a hand through his curls.

You thought for a moment. “Maxwell. Were you a little… distracted during the candle lighting this evening?”

“Maybe.” He grinned at you and tugged you close. “Okay. Maybe a lot.”

Again, you looked around. You closed your eyes as you asked, “so instead of focusing on the miracle you were thinking about – ”

“The miracle of you coming into my life, yes.” With the way his fingers were trailing up and down your back, he wasn’t reticent in the slightest. You asked if something like this was allowed. “Well… it’d forbidden to fast during Hanukkah. So, if you’re up for it, we are allowed to, ah,” he kissed your forehead and began to let his hands wander.

You rolled your eyes. “I thought you were the one who had to be ‘up for it’ in these kind of situations.” To test your theory, you slid your hand down to the front of his pants. He was, indeed, up for it. “Okay. You’ve got the candles. You’ve got me. What’s your next step?”

He swallowed hard; his gaze homed in on your lips. “Not a clue. All I want to, all I’ve wanted to do all night was kiss you.”

“Then what are you waiting on? Another miracle?” You slid your hands up his chest and behind his neck. You scratched lightly at the bottom edge of his curls. “Come down here, Scarf Boy, and kiss me.”

With a smirk, he did just that. Small, teasing kisses at first. But as you leaned into him and hummed into his mouth, Max kissed you harder and held you tighter. His hands splayed wide around your hips, trying to feel as much of you as possible. He groaned as your hands did the same to his back and biceps. When you were breathless, he broke away.

“How you doin’ down there, sweet cheeks?”

All you could manage was a “mhmm.”

Proud of himself, he helped your legs wrap around his waist. The bed was soon under you, but Max kept you wrapped around him so he could grind into your rolling hips. He glanced down at your skirt riding up. He rocked into you harder until the fabric was bunched up around your waist. He smiled into your kisses. With a chuckle against the curve of your neck, he leaned you up with a hand behind your head. His other hand slipped between your bodies. With a little teasing and a little rubbing, he succeeded in wringing your arousal through to the front of your panties. Your jolts and whines didn’t make him stop. What did freeze him was how glossy your eyes looked. And how your mouth parted perfectly around those tiny gasps that he loved.

Glancing at your boudoir, his mind spun with an idea.

“Hey, Baby, you gonna take good care of me?” He suckled a soft mark on your neck. “Gonna take care of me so I can take real good care of you?”

You followed his glances to your collection of hair and makeup products scattered haphazardly over the low desk. “Always. But – What do you have in mind?”

He pressed a hard kiss to your lips before shifting off the bed. When he came back, he had one of your lipsticks in hand. He summoned you to sit on the edge of the mattress with a curl of his fingers.

You frowned at the tube he chose. It wasn’t one you used often. The lipstick was too dark for regular use, and really only looked good when you were expecting to be flushed. Realization froze you in place as Max lightly gripped your chin. Your lips parted so he could apply the color to your lips. It didn’t take much to image how you looked to him. Cheeks flushed from his kisses. Eyes wide with realizing what he meant to do. Lips parted in an “oh.”

With his thumb, he smeared the thick layer of color across your bottom lip. “Perfect.” He grinned. “Caught up yet?”

To answer, you reached for his belt buckle.

Max toed out of his shoes and helped your hands rid him of his pants. The button-down shirt hung open over his undershirt, though it was tight enough that you could watch his tummy contract. He regripped your chin as you brought his cock into the open. Back and forth, he enjoyed smearing your lipstick. He couldn’t wait to see what you’d look like after he filled your mouth with his length. A small hiss escaped through his teeth as your thumb circled his tip, smearing the precum there.

His head fell back as you began to kiss and down his length. When he managed to look down again, his breath stuttered to see the red lip prints that you’d left behind.

“Come on, Baby. Mark me up.” He spread his hand over the back of your head. As you swallowed him down, bit by bit, his words stuttered out between rushed breaths. “Love seeing your lips around my cock. Been dreamin’ – use your tongue, just like that – dreamin’ about having you like this all day. Been wanting to feel that mouth just like this.” He groaned as you added your hands to your movements, cupping and massaging his balls to make him twitch in your mouth. “We both know you’re too good for me. But then I’ve got you like this and – easy woman – and I think maybe you’re just as much a degenerate as I am.”

You slid off his cock with a pop. “Darling… you talk to much.”

“Make me shut up then.”

After a smirk, you took a deep breath. Max braced himself for what he knew was coming next.

Relaxing your jaw and throat as best you could, you worked your way back down his length until your lips could rest at the base of it with your nose pressed against his abdomen. Max’s eyes rolled. His thighs twitched as he fought the need to begin thrusting in and out of your mouth. Anything he wanted to say stuttered on his tongue, refusing to make any sense while you had him sucked down so well. He stumbled through a few sounds as you hollowed and sucked your cheeks.

“Gonna, gonna burst. Move, woman.”

Lightly grazing your teeth along his underside, you slid off again. He whined, tightening his grip on the back of your head. “What? I thought you wanted me to move?”

He used his thumb to hold open your jaw. “Fine. Stay still and I’ll move.” He glared at the innocent smile you gave him. Already, the color on your lips was smeared nearly past recognition. But he needed to see it obliterated. Max filled your mouth again. The sensitivity of his cock jarred as your tongue worked around him. With a grunt, he did his best to hold back. Thrusting, he took what he wanted.

Your hands slid up and down his thighs. If he slowed down, you picked up the pace. He wanted to see you debauched, and you were willing to give it to him. But you also wanted to see him wrecked.

The tightening of his hand on your head was the only warning you had before he spilled down your throat. As you swallowed, you kept him in place by gripping his hips. He tried to get away, but you took your time coming off him. When you did, you took his length in hand and guided him to lay on top of you on the bed. He grunted against the side of your neck as you gently stroked him.

“Ea-easy.” He batted your hand away. Before you could snark at him, he reached down for your slick. It didn’t take much movement from his fingers before he could triumphantly watch your eyes close with pleasure. And it didn’t take much more to remove your dress and panties. Before you could bother with removing your bra (one of the lacy blue ones that he liked) he rolled you to sit on his hips.

You squinted at him.

Max swung his hands up and back behind his head. “What?”

“What happened to I take care of you so can take really good care of me?”

“We’re getting there.” He shifted his hips under you, his half-hard cock laid out for your view. “Can’t take care of you with this. So, help a guy out.” Max smirked at you.

His face was pretty, you had to admit. Punchable. But pretty.

In Max’s view, you were stunning. The candlelight glimmered across your bared skin, flickering and giving your face different angles of illumination. You were irritated with him, but beautiful. His stomach contracted under your hand while you thumbed across the blurred line of lipstick at the base of his cock. Panting, he kept still as you pushed his undershirt up so you could see his abs. They flexed as you curled your fingers around his length, gently stroking him.

When you began to roll your hips over his stomach, with his cock trapped between you, the both of you had to moan. You with neediness, and Max with overstimulation. The wetness that had grown with sucking him off slicked up his cock and stomach. You slid back and forth, chasing the sensation of his cockhead catching your clit. But then Max reached up and took care of your bud with his thumb. You braced your hands on his chest.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “Ridin’ me like a perfect slut. My slut. If you hang around me too much longer, I’ll ruin you.”

You licked your lips. “You’re already ruined me, Max. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

His other hand landed on your waist, guiding you to slide faster. Your slick gushed, giving him plenty to work with to rub up over your clit. He teased you for the mess you were making. How he wasn’t even in you yet, and you looked like you were fucked head over heels.

“You gonna cum, Baby? Just from sliding back and forth on my cock? What would your fans think of you if they knew this was the woman you became when the cameras turned off? My valet, my woman, so cock-drunk she can’t even see straight.” He used his hips to push you higher on your knees. With the extra space, he curled his fingers into your heat. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Desperately, you nodded. All you needed was for him to keep moving his fingers like that. Just a little longer. But as he dragged them out, you keened. Between you, his cock had hardened again. He guided you back and forth, gasping to feel how wet you were. “Max-“

“Gonna take good care of you. Can you wait for me?” He ground his thumb into your clit, hoping to bring you to the brink. He had a feeling he wouldn’t last long once he had your walls around him.

“No.” Your limbs stiffened and your vision blurred as Max’s work sent you over the edge. You tried to fall forward onto his chest, but he forced you keep sitting on his lap as he laid there.

“Did you just cum?” He laughed, awed. “Poor thing. Just came around nothing. Don’t worry; I can fix that.” Lifting up your hips again, he speared you bit by bit onto his length.

Your thighs quaked on either side of his hips. Full of him and reeling from your release, your body couldn’t decide if it wanted him in or out. Your walls fluttered around his length. Beneath you, Max struggled to hold still as your body decided. Looking at the scrunch of his brow and hearing the raspiness of his breath, you knew he was close. You slid your hand up his chest. His hand caught yours after your thumb flicked over his nipple.

“Hey-“

“What?” You gently rolled your hips, making both of you gasp. “Are you the only one in this house allowed to take charge?”

Cheekily, he risked a grin that disappeared into a moan as you rolled your hips again. “I – I thought I was.”

“Are you sure about that?”

His answer was to grip your hips tight. Hands warm and grasping, their paired strength held you in place for his hips to thrust up. Your hands fell to lay over his. As he made you bounce on his lap, you did your best to keep your seat. Max watched you fall apart through lidded eyes. Heart thundering in his ears, he could still hear your cries and the prayer of his name falling from your lips. He watched your throat and lips. He watched your breasts bounce as he thrust. And he felt your walls clamping tighter and tighter around his length with each spear into your heat.

“Getting’ close, baby?”

You nodded frantically. Eyes screwed shut, you slammed yourself down and wriggled your hips, chasing the sensation of being completely full.

“Come on then,” he breathed, “cum for me. Gonna fill you up so good.”

He reached for your clit, circling it until you saw stars. The flames and glow of the fairy lights blurred into one radiance with Max’s awe-struck face in the center. It was the last thing you saw before you came with a shout. Your eyes clamped shut. As he continued to thrust, you fell forward to brace yourself on his stomach. You clawed at his skin, leaving thin red welts. Max groaned, then whined your name before his body shuddered. His release spilled into you, warming your already-flushed body from the inside out. The cum that spilled out around his length mixed with the mess already spread across his lap.

Dazed, you didn’t realize he hadn’t pulled out until you were laying on your side and he was lifting your leg over his thigh. “Max-“

“Hmm?”

“What – what are you doing?”

“Well, you blew me till I came. I made you cum. Then we each came again. That leaves four more.”

“Four?” You whimpered as he slowly rolled his hips. “What? Did you think we were done?” He kissed the end of your nose before burying his head into the crook of your neck and sucking a mark on your pulse point. “Nuh-uh. Have to get to eight. One for each candle and night of the miracle. Not letting you go. Not yet.”

***

Masterlist

***

Other MJF Fics:

A Tease of the Worst Kind (S, Ficlet)

Finish Me (S, Ficlet)

Power Struggle (Whump)

STFU (S, Summer Song-Fic Playlist)

***

Other Wrestling Holiday Fics:

Snow Kisses (F) - Jack Gallagher

Happy to Help (Male!Reader, AR, F, implied S, M|M) - Ricochet

Warm Me Up (AR, S, Virgin Reader) - Elias Samson

“Ah!” Wardlow’s eyes went wide as your hands slid around his waist under his shirt. “You’re frozen. How long were you out there?”

“About ten minutes. The jerk hit me with a snowball. And then I brought in the bags and-“

He frowned. “He what? Wait. No. You – you were supposed to wait for me. I was going to help.”

You pressed your nose to his bicep, giggling as he huffed and squirmed away from it. “And by help you mean… grab all the heavy bags before I can get to them and bring them in yourself.” As he looked sheepishly away, you hummed. “I thought so. No. You’re the wrestler. You can’t get sick.”

“Neither can you.” He removed your hands from his waist, holding them in his large hands. “Where would I be without my valet?”

“Probably still working for Adam Cole.”

He nodded. “And that was going so well for me.” He tried to drop your hands, turning away from you. But you wrapped your arms around him from behind, returning your cold touch to his bare stomach. “Woman! Easy, geeze.” You giggled, splaying your hands wide across his abs as they flexed. He playfully glared down at you. “I thought you were also from Ohio?”

“So? As if being from the Midwest gives me super-heating powers?” You whimpered as he removed your touch. “Please?” You snuggled into his chest, making him wrap his arms around you. “You’re so warm.”

With a sigh, he gave you what you wanted. With your hands pressed over his pecs (but over the fabric) and his arms around you, the cold slowly seeped away from your body. You hummed and did your best to maneuver closer, if that was possible. He began to sway.

“We have a show to do,” you said.

“Mhmm.”

“We should really get going.”

“Mhmm.”

You tilted your head back to look at him. “Are you gonna give me an answer more than grunting?”

“Nuh-nnn.” Just as he was kissing the top of your head, JD Vance walked by. Wardlow’s grip tightened.

Vance smirked. “Aren’t you two cute. Weren’t you just telling me how he could take the heat, Y/N? What does that say about you if you can’t take the cold?” He raised his hands in surrender as Wardlow growled. “Down boy. Easy. Just an observation.” He tried to step closer but Wardlow flexed suddenly, making him take a step back. “Let me know if he doesn’t warm you up well enough, Y/N. I’m a helpful kind of guy.” He smiled, waiting for Wardlow to make an angry retort. But his smile fell as the retort didn’t come. “What? Nothing to say, War Dog?”

Your client shook his head. “Not worth the breath. I’ve worked with guys a lot more irritating than you. I’ll let my fists do the talking in the ring.” He arched an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like to surrender now?”

With a snarl, Vance stomped away.

Wardlow chuckled. “Don’t think I could have moved even if I wanted to. I think your icicle hands have frozen to my shirt.”

“No they haven’t.” You lifted them off his chest to look at your palms. Blowing across your fingertips, you didn’t see Wardlow’s plotting gaze. He had you up in the air and over his shoulder before you could screech. “Hey! Where are we going?”

“To catering. Gotta get my girl some hot chocolate.”

***

The match went great. Of course, Wardlow won. There hadn’t been an inch of doubt except for right at the end. Vance’s allies swarmed out of the audience while he had the referee distracted. But Wardlow was used to watching his own back. He easily dispatched one, and nodded at you once you tripped up the other. Thwarted, Vance senselessly ran at Wardlow’s back. The blows he landed there did nothing but irritate the War Dog. The match ended a few seconds later.

There would be problems with Vance and his allies in the future for sure. But that was what long car rides were for: talking through every angle and opportunity to watch out for surprises. You were still talking through all the details when you two made it to your hotel room.

“If he tries to goad us into a handicap match with his buddies, I think we can accept. Tonight proves it. Between the two of us I think-”

“How high do you want me to turn up the heat?”

“I think we can watch your back. Huh?” You started to change into your pjs. “Oh. Not to high.” Tugging your shirt over your head, you frowned to hear the little beep continue as Wardlow upped the thermostat. “Hey. Not too high!”

Wardlow shrugged. “Why not? You’re still cold from earlier.”

“But you’ll melt.”

“I’m not a snowman.”

“No.” You stepped into his space and lightly poked his chest. “But you’re a large, muscled man who runs hot.”

“So?” He caught your hands before you could let them fly as you talk. His eyes glinted. And he kissed at the pulse point on your wrists.

You squinted at him. “What are you doing?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Mhmm.” Your breath hitched as his large, warm hands began to smooth up and down your arms. As much as you enjoyed the massage, you were still wary. You were hyper aware of your lack of a shirt, giving him a broad view of your bra and decolletage. And you were hyper aware of his gaze watching your chest rise and fall as your breath stuttered. “You are planning something, Mr. Wardlow, and that’s supposed to be my job.”

After returning you to your position from earlier that afternoon (your hands on his chest with his arms around your waist), he nuzzled his nose against your forehead. “That’s your job in the arena. We’re not in an arena.” He didn’t kiss you yet. But his lips repeated the path across your forehead. “Any objections so far?”

“No,” you whispered. “But you should be getting ready for bed.”

He chuckled. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I mean you should be getting ready to sleep.”

“I’ll get there.” He finally pressed a kiss to the edge of your hairline. Tightening his grip around your waist, you arched into his chest. “But I’ve still got a bit of energy left over from the match. Think you can help me out, Ms. Valet?”

You smiled into his chest. How many times had he used that as an excuse? How many times had you fallen for it? Tilting back your head, you accepted his drifting kisses down your cheek and under your jaw. “I suppose. If it’s really what you need.”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re still grunting.”

“Mhmm.” Wardlow wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips so he could carry you towards the bed. “Words are your thing. I’m the one who lets his hands do the talking.”

You liked the sound of that. Especially when he began to “talk” by gently dropping you onto the bed and running his hands up and down your thighs. He kneaded your flesh, further relaxing you into the sheets. Your eyes closed under his touch. And you hummed as his kisses traveled from your lips to under your jaw, back up again, and then down to the valley of your breasts. Blissfully distracted by his lips, you forgot about his hands until he had you bare before him. He kissed your eyelids open. It was unfair how you were unclothed while he was still in his sweats. Though you did appreciate that he had lost his shirt at some point. You shivered under his heated gaze and let your own gaze drift over the strong curves of his shoulders and chest. “I need to let you do the talking more often.”

Wardlow grinned. “I’ll remember that.” His thumbs spun little circles into the meat of your hips. For being such a large guy, his stillness was usually calming. At the same time, with the way his eyes kept flicking back and forth over his favorite features of you, you also felt like a meal. As his tongue wet his bottom lip, you squirmed. His head tilted to one side. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Just… you stopped… talking.” Reaching for him, you managed to catch his hand and place it on your breast. “What’s going on in your head?”

“Honestly,” he followed your lead and squeezed your breast, making you gasp, “I’m not sure. Can’t seem to pin anything down. I’ve got too many ideas of what I want to do to you.”

Snagging his other hand, you brought it to your other breast. “Then don’t think.”

The room was warm. In another circumstance, it would have been stifling, even for you. But then Wardlow loomed over you. He laved his tongue over your nipples, and then blew cool air over them. You shivered, keening for him to do it again. Smirking, he did as you asked, though after tugging on the peaks with his teeth. He hissed against your skin as your nails raked down his back. His hard length was still trapped in his sweats. Wardlow ground it into the heated need between your thighs, groaning as you desperately rolled your hips to meet him.

“Michael, please-”

He shushed you with a deep kiss. Deep in his chest, he rumbled a groan. Between the vibrations from him, his kiss, and his hand still kneading your breast, you were overwhelmed. So when his fingers curled through your slick, you whined into his mouth. He was pressed too close for you to escape. The same hands that had kept you warm all evening were strong and calloused from years of training for the ring. He knew exactly how to use them to curl and scissor your sex till you were breathless. And how to flick across that spot deep inside you that made you cry out his name. It wasn’t long before your thighs were shaking. You whimpered as he added another thick finger to his ministrations. He chuckled as your eyes rolled.

“Getting close, Baby?” He ran his free hand up your thigh. “You’re all sweaty. Maybe I should turn the heat down.”

You scrambled to grab the waistband of his sweats. “Don’t stop.”

Still, he pulled away. You leaned up on your elbows to protest, but stopped when he was back again in a second. With his sweats gone, his length pressed hot and hard against the apex of your thighs. Wardlow filled your mouth with a kiss. His fingers returned to their work. Your vision began to fade at the edges. He stopped again.

“Breathe.”

You shuddered a breath. And another. Slowly, he guided his length into your sex. He fell forward, bracing his arm over your shoulder. His own eyes were closed as he focused on maintaining his control. When he was fully within you, Wardlow nuzzled a kiss under your jaw. You returned a kiss in kind while your walls fluttered around him.

“Move,” you breathed.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he gave you what you wanted. Those first few slow, exploratory thrusts were your favorite. The way his breath hitched against your skin always made your heart jump. It was like he was trying not to lose control in those first moments. Control managed, he could finally give and take what he wanted. Hands fisting the sheets, his eyes closed as he began to thrust harder. Your body rocked with the collision. Every curve and soft place on you bounced with it. Once he picked up speed, Wardlow liked to open his eyes to watch your body move and react to his actions. His sea-green eyes could never get enough of watching you.

He hissed as your hands dug into his lower back. And he had to repress a laugh. Your fingertips weren’t cold now. He hummed as such against the curve of your neck.

You couldn’t form a reply.

The slow drag and sudden fill of him had severed the connection from your tongue to your brain. All you could manage were small sounds, sudden gasps, and the occasional whimper of his name. Your vision was quickly growing fuzzy at the edges. And with it, your sex slicked and contracted around his cock. Your whole body was desperate for release. Your hips hurried to meet his thrusts. Breathless, blind, and soaring, you begged Wardlow for more.

“Let go. I’ve got you. Let go.”

His arms collapsed, pressing his body further into yours. With a shout muffled by his shoulder, your body seized. Wardlow froze. He groaned, shivering with the sensation of you cumming on his cock. Just when you thought you’d caught your breath, he rolled his hips. You jolted. He waited until your shivering abated before beginning again. You keened as he built his way back up to a thunderous pace. Close and panting with the effort, he ran his thumb through your wetness and spread it up to your clit. Your walls once again fluttered around him. Wardlow roared into the sheets over your shoulder. With a hurried series of thrusts, he filled you. Crushed as you were underneath him, you did your best to meet his last lunges.

Satisfied, Wardlow rolled onto his back, taking you with him. You ended up on his chest with a squeak. He grinned as you trembled with the shift of his length in your sex.

“Warm now?”

You glared at him. “Finally relaxed after your match?”

His reply was to sit up, keeping you in his lap. Distracting you with a kiss, he slid his hands behind and under your thighs. When he stood, he kept you on his cock despite your protest. “Can’t make a mess. Well, not another one.” He kissed under your jaw.

Under the hot running water in the shower, he took his time cleaning you up and easing you down from your high. He toweled you both dry, careful of your sensitivity and tutting over the little half-moons your nails had left on his skin. He only lightly teased your drowsiness. Your pjs stayed in your suitcase. Instead, Wardlow tucked you into the sheets before sliding into bed behind you, skin to warm skin.

The last thing you remembered before dropping off into sleep was his lips pressing gentle kisses onto your spine. The next morning, you awoke to the same.

***

Masterlist

Other Wardlow Fics:

Do You Remember When (A, S)

A Stranger in My Head (S, Horror)

“I need to ask you something.” You twisted the traitorous cloth around your fingers. Small enough to hide from Ricky on your way down to the match. Large enough to weigh like a boulder of guilt in your pocket. You swallowed as Britt waited for you to continue. “What do you do? When Adam is going to far; when you both know he won’t return to you in one piece?”

She tasted several answers on her tongue before answering. “You be there for him. Stand there. Watch the pain, feel it burn in your lungs. And you give it back to him as a strength that will motivate him either to the finish or the end. But my experiences… they’re not like what you’re going to have to endure. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

“That’s alright. Thank you.”

The ring shook as Ricky bounced off the ropes, hurtling towards his target. His eyes gleamed with focus and determination. Despite what advice Britt had given you, the cheers and praise you wanted to give him died on your lips. Mostly you could manage a smile when he looked your way. One that he would return. And then shift back to the matter at hand.

Still, your lungs quaked.

If he won: he was number one contender. If he tapped out: Joe was number one contender. And you would work for him instead. No pinfall. No count-outs. No disqualifications. Submission only.

You knew him. His match with Danielson was before you joined the roster as Ricky’s valet. And before the feelings developed. You hated how you longed for his touch after matches now. Wanting to feel and know that he was okay like you had never needed before. Ricky wouldn’t tap. He had passed out instead of tapping to Danielson’s brutal victory. The recovery period had, apparently, been more brutal than what the cameras revealed.

Would you be able to survive them with him?

Would the potential championship be worth it?

Then, your nightmare came to fruition.

Joe’s grip caught Ricky’s wrist. With a quick tug, your love was in his arms. Joe turned so you could see his face contort, so you could see him gasp for air. And behind him, like a grinning gargoyle ready to spill a waterfall of brimstone on your dreams, Joe watched you. He waited. Listened. Patiently paused his malice to see what you would do.

“Here.” Joe drifted out of the shadows and handed you a small square of white. “He’s going to need it.”

The fabric seemed to burn your hands. But Joe refused to take it back.

“We both know him. You better than most. He won’t tap. To keep you near he’d rather hold hot coals than let me borrow you.” He stepped near, trapping you against the wall. “I won’t need you long. I promise. Once the title’s mine, you can go back to him. But he’s in my way of getting my title back. If he wants to have a bit of a rematch after I hold gold, he’s welcome to it. Until then,” he nodded at the cloth, “think about it. And what’s best for him.”

Biting your bottom lip, you dragged the surrender out of your pocket.

Ricky’s eyes, already drooping shut from wont of oxygen, widened. He did his best to shake his head. Holding out his hand, he rasped, “reach for me.”

Your hand slid between the ropes. Though your fingertips would never be able to touch, maybe your closer proximity could help him find a way out?

The grip tightened around his throat, and Joe fell to one side. His leg pinned down Ricky’s flailing limbs.

You watched the glow fade from his eyes. His gaze, glazed and empty, never moved from where he knew you to be. But his lips were already taking on a purple hue.

Joe nodded at the square in your hands.

Against your will, it dragged your hand up to the bottom rope, draping the white fabric where everyone could see it.

“No! Y/N, I’ll-” Ricky coughed, forcing a smidgen of oxygen into his lungs. “I’ll be alright. Don’t.”

Without sound, you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Y/N!”