#wwe fic

“I think Hunter is gonna have me start doing a thing with Drew, I dunno.”

You say this nonchalantly, flippantly, as you scroll through texts from your aforementioned boss, both of you spitballing potential ideas for a future storyline involving you, five years deep into your career and in need of a refresh.

Coming off of an injury is the perfect excuse for a revamp, showing a side to your character that the audience hasn’t seen before. Perhaps there’s something to this…

“Man, what thing?”

It’s the tone in which the question is being posed that has you lifting your eyes from the screen, the dull light illuminating your glossed lips as you raise a perfectly arched brow. “Like, maybe, something along the lines of a partnership.”

Jey Uso stands before you, unimpressed frown on his face as he shakes his head. The wild curls of that infamous mullet of his flinging with a boyish charm that warms your heart.

You two have been good friends, best friends, for a few years now—really almost ever since you debuted on the Raw roster—and by this point, it was not a surprising sight to see the both of you like this, sequestered in a dark, quiet spot of whichever arena was housing the latest live show.

He was always so easy to talk to, and fun to hang with. You remember being so damn scared finally being pushed into the spotlight with the biggest names of them all and expected to compete with them, but Jey had been there since day one. His deep voice and easy grin a balm on your nerves and a battery in your back. At this point, he was rivaling your own family for being your biggest cheerleader. He was damn sure the most reliable support system at work and beyond.

Even though you’d been adamant that Jey did not, under any circumstance, come visit while you were on the mend and instead lock in at work, there was not a single day—hell, maybe even hour—that he wasn’t calling, texting, DM’ing to keep in touch with you. The recovery process was overall steady but hurt like a bitch, and even though Jey respected your wishes to stay away, his love and support as you got through it never faded.

It’s a struggle to think what this all would feel like without him…

“You and…Drew?” You nod succinctly, wondering at the disgusted pull of his face. “Man, hell naw.”

And did you dare to think that he was your biggest cheerleader just a moment ago?

It stops you up short, his surprising disapproval. A spark of fear lights up inside your chest. Jey always supported anything that was for the betterment of your career—what was this?

Dropping your hand, you stand up straighter now. Your crossed arms versus the hands on his hips. The posture screams incoming fight. Harmless bickering is one thing but you guys don’t argue.

“What? Why not?” You, more defensive than you want to be. Showing your hand too early. Just basically shoving your hurt in his face. “You don’t think I could pull it off?”

Jey shoves off your rising insecurities by shrugging, which has your chest twisting in a weird way. Your cheeks are getting warm now under your perfectly set blush. Your nose itches as you all but glare up at him through your lashes.

“Baby, it just don’t sound right—not to mention, it wouldn’t look right either.”

It’s blunt—too blunt—but Jey has never withheld his feelings with you, nor anyone. A trait of his that you always admired, and a complete opposite to the way you sat on your thoughts and feelings most times. But, of course, Jey was good at making you open up and express yourself without abandon. There was hardly anything in the world you didn't tell him.

Which is why you thought nothing of this and was confident in sharing it before it could potentially take off. But the things he’s saying don’t sit well with you at all.

Look right? What the hell?

“Now, what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jey?”

Jey barely flinches at your profanity but he’s not one to shy away from confrontation. If anything, he rises to it, a stank look in his eye. Not exactly directed at you—even through your rising irritation you can see that—but he does seem extremely annoyed overall.

“Girl,” he kisses his teeth, “Drew is a big ass Scottish muhfucka. What the hell he know about you?”

You, as in not exactly small by any means—hips wide, ass homegrown and toned legs that go on for days and definitely not Scottish. Safe to say, you and Drew McIntyre are total physical opposites. His pale skin and your milky brown complexion. Your wide chocolate eyes and his narrow icy blue ones.

So, what?

If Hunter and the rest of creative thought something could come from a duo with the Scottish Warrior, who were you not to give it a shot? Aligning with him would be one of the more interesting things you’d done since returning two months ago from your recovery off of a broken elbow.

You couldn’t believe Jey wasn’t seeing it.

“Are you serious right now?” If your face wasn’t beat right now, you’d be scrubbing it in frustration. “Are you forgetting that you had a little thing with Rhea? Yall couldn’t be more opposite!”

Jey and Rhea had your utmost support when creative got the exciting idea to try their hand at something between their characters. Two of the biggest stars in the company, beloved by the crowd. It was a no-brainer, even if it did fizzle out in the end.

But Jey clearly isn’t trying to hear you. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah but she’s Mami and I’m the Main Event,” he boasts, gesturing to himself, “it was gon’ be fire no matter what!”

And just then something hits you, with startling clarity. You are now truly, deeply offended.

“Wait—are you saying that I’m not a big enough star? Because we all know Drew is!”

The accusation is nasty but it sounds true to your ears. Still in your twenties—even though it’s late twenties now—everyone tends to treat you like the locker room little sister.

To be looked after and cooed over, even if you put your body on the line show after show. Even if you perform and entertain to the highest of standards. It’s not unappreciated by you, though, just a little irking sometimes.

Jey makes the souring mood starting to develop no better because has the nerve to laugh. “Now you know I ain’t said that,” he grins, as if you’re ridiculous. “I’m just saying I don’t see it, personally.”

“Well, maybe I do. Hunter does, and so does Drew.” You say this through clenched teeth, waving your phone in his face. “I’ve been talking with them about this for days. It’s going somewhere!”

Jey pauses, eyes dropping to the phone in your hand, the open display highlighting the blue and grey message bubbles, how long they are. Takes in the way your eyes instantly shift to the screen as the phone dings with another text.

Then he goes quiet for a while.

You scoff at him before responding to the text, trying to shake this off because even if he was pissing you off, it didn’t feel good to be doing this with him.

Just as your message goes through does Jey finally speak up again, a touch quieter. “Y’all be talking?”

And you know he means Drew, because of course you have correspondence with the boss—just about everyone does.

“I mean, yeah. This thing could really happen, not to mention he’s kinda cool. Funny, even.”

Another ding. Another lengthy grey bubble. Jey can see it, leans a bit more into your space to peer down at the phone. He can even see Drew’s contact name, how it has an actual emoji beside it.

If you weren’t replying with haste to Drew’s message, you’d be able to catch the way Jey’s entire face shifts into something dark and ugly. The way he stills at the sound of your breathy laugh.

He’s quick to fix his face when you lock your phone, still amused by whatever the fuck Drew said. But there is a heavy quiet surrounding him. One he cloaks himself in when’s trying to rein it in, keep his temper under check and controlled. Had you not been too busy with Drew, you would’ve picked up on that.

However you only sigh, lazily shifting your focus back onto him, tossing him a look through those mink lashes. A dismissal, he wonders?

“Look, Jey, I really don’t know why you giving me a hard time about this one. You’ve been so cool about literally everything else. What’s one little romance?”

Romance. You never said anything about romance.

Jey scoffs, the sound ugly even to his own ears. “Yeah aight, have fun witcho new lil’ boyfriend. Just know he be fuckin’ on half the women’s roster.”

You blink, almost cartoonishly, a few times in rapid succession as you try to take in what he said. A strange swirl of emotion hits you, then. Too confusing for you to even process. His tone. His snarl. Hell, even his stance.

What the fuck…?

You wrench your head back, hands raised because you just don’t know what to do with this. “You know what, Joshua,” and the serious use of his name—which you rarely call him—has him rearing his own head back, “I’mma just go because this is weird and something is off here. Talk to me when you wanna be my friend that has sense again.”

Before he can utter a breath in response, you’re spinning on your heels and striding down the shadowy hallway away from him. And no matter how far you go, his words still follow you, his resentment echoing in your brain.

Why the fuck would you even care about who Drew is or isn’t fucking? Why is that something he would even bring up? How was it relevant at all to what you were telling him?

You don’t have an answer to this but Rhea certainly does later and what she tells you has you all but yelling, “get the fuck outta here! Stop playing!”

She does not, in fact, stop playing. She only just stares at you with this knowing look on her face. How dare she look so certain after saying something so ridiculous?

You laugh in the midst of lacing up your boots for the night. “Rhea, sometimes I forget how funny you can be,” you snort again as you move from one boot to the other, “but, girl, you are downright hilarious. Jey is not jealous.”

“What? I’m not joking—everyone knows how he is when it comes to you. And I love my boy,” she proclaims with a solemn hand to her chest, “and I don’t wanna out him but it’s fairly obvious why he’s so mad.”

You ignore that, standing up and moving to your bag, fiddling with—well, you don’t even know. You just need to do something with your hands.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s everyone?”

“Me and Liv were just talking about you two.” Go figure—they talk about everyone. Still, not a big deal. “We saw you, holding hands.” Jey’s a touchy person. You, less so, but with him it’s second nature. What’s holding hands, a hug, between two people who cared for each other? “It was cute that he was holding your purse on the way in, too.”

You shrug at that, at the smirk on her face, trying to appear unaffected—this was the last thing you needed before your match—even if your stomach is starting to go haywire. Pre-matches jitters, to be sure.

“He always does that, nothing new.” Which, yeah, him carrying your bag whether it be a small handbag or one of your, in his words, big ass totebags was just a credit to him being raised to be a gentleman, obviously. “We came here together, so what?”

Rhea is relentless, though. Trying to prove some point. “That’s another thing!” she crows excitedly. “You guys travel everywhere together. You mean to tell me you never felt the tension in that tiny little Kia Soul?”

“Don’t you talk about my car, she’s small but mighty—and brand new.”

You won’t tell her who you brought along car shopping that day. Who went over all the details whether it be mechanical or financial with the dealership. Who ensured that you got exactly what you wanted, even if he hated the car itself.

Hell, you’re certain if you allowed it when he initially asked, he would’ve paid for the damn thing.

“Babe, you know how I feel and how anyone with eyes should feel about those fucking travesties.”

You mock scowl at her but forgo defending your choice of vehicle any further—haters gon’ hate. “Okay, so you’re basically telling me that you and Liv gossip over fake news and fairytales. Big deal.”

“Jimmy said as much too! His own twin!”

Which you do not find surprising in the least. “Jim is just as bad as the girls. He’s always trying to get the tea.”

“And spill it. He told us that Jey’s ex has been trying to get back in the picture and that while usually he’d be all for it, he basically told her to kick rocks,” Rhea shares wickedly.

Now this, you did not know. And Rhea can tell because when you freeze and turn to face her again, her black painted lips are stretched wide in a grin that can only be described as shiteating.

“Mina hit him up again?”

Rhea nods, still cheesing.

Oh, Mina…

Beautiful. Successful career in sports journalism. Well off. Fit. And crazy as hell.

Jey hadn’t brought her up in a while, now that you think about it, but usually that was a sign of him entertaining her again. You learned early on in your friendship that it was best not to get involved when they were on. It’s not like Jey ever listened—whether it be you or his own family. No use in beating a dead horse.

“But he’s crazy about her…”

A fact you quietly bemoaned once or twice. Jey and his damn dating life was just as entertaining as any live show, and a total train wreck. There’d be many nights when he would ask you so, I was in the wrong? (usually, yes) or text you a long ass paragraph describing Mina’s latest antics—his ass being thrown out again for whatever she deemed him guilty of doing or her cussing him out in public without shame.

You’re sort of embarrassed to know even you had been responsible for some of her blow-up’s at Jey.

Even if you felt her and Jey weren’t a match by any means, Mina had a charm to her that inspired you to try to befriend her. Each time fell flat, though. The woman just did not fuck with you, period.

“Was crazy about her. Hasn’t been for a long while, so I’ve heard. Hm, I wonder why…” Rhea trails off, lips puckered to the side. Trying to appear innocent as if she’s not just full of surprises for you tonight.

You shake your head. All of this being too much. Your phone dings with two messages simultaneously and you feel a wave of relief to not have to keep this conversation going for the split second it takes to see that one’s from Drew asking about your dinner plans for tonight and if you'd like to carry the conversation further—yes, you respond quickly, just pick the spot and i’ll come—and another is from Jey and that’s he’s so sorry and can you guys just talk?

“I bet that’s him.”

You blow out a frustrated sigh before shoving the phone into your bag and going into deep stretches in the next breath.

This is all bullshit. None of this matters because none of it is true. You know Jey better than most people, if he harbored any sort of feelings for you it wouldn’t be hard to tell.

…At least, you think.

“If you’re tryna throw me off my game so I don’t whoop yo’ ass tonight, this is a good attempt.”

Rhea laughs, getting to her feet before shouldering her gleaming championship gold. You eye it thoughtfully.

If this Drew thing took off, could it possibly mean being lined up for another title shot? Gold came into your hands twice now, once through winning in an upset against Becky and another after challenging Bianca.

You’ve been on a string of matches/encounters with or against Rhea ever since coming back, and the reception to it all has been fairly positive. There’s no denying how fruitful it’s been to work with her. Perhaps it could turn into the most gratifying of fortunes?

It would be nice…

The other woman notices your focus, her trail to the door stopped short. “Uh oh, you gunning after me now? I promise not to keep teasing you about your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my—”

But the protest falls flat as she just laughs again and departs, leaving just you, the empty locker room and your muddled brain.

Like a lost little puppy, you trudge over and slump down into one of the cubby holes, blowing a stray bang out of your eyes.

Why would she even say that? You came to her to rant in confidence and hopefully have her back you up—not to have her laugh in your face and blatantly tell you that Jey was jealous.

That he, in her crazy words, has the hots for you.

Now, look, you aren’t blind.

Jey is…well, Jey.

Fine as hell. Talented. Funny. Charming. Older. A grown man unlike the “men” your age that still seemed to be catching up to you.

To be honest, you genuinely might’ve only thought about him in ways friends shouldn’t think of each other a couple of times. Moments of weakness, of desperate selfishness on nights when the hotels felt cold and lonely, the car rides long and unending, the flights nonstop and draining.

And maybe when you were in the ring sometimes. When you took a harder bump than expected and it felt like you never knew how to breathe at all, knowing he was most likely worrying. You wondered if he felt pride when you went all in on a promo and the crowd was alive and hanging onto every word, that you wanted to do good just to show him.

In a way, deep down, you know that you crave his attention. That you love when he calls you his favorite girl and always attaches himself to you whenever he can. It’s thrilling to be known as best friends because that simply means that you have some sort of ownership over him, and he with you.

But why did it feel so good to be in his proximity and him in yours?

It isn’t his star power you crave. Funnily enough, your paths barely crossed in the ring. So, it’s not like you were trying to gain favor through his fame. How far you’ve come, no matter who your support system was, has been off your own strength and willpower.

Maybe it’s just due to him being so good to you. You don't know about him having the hots for you, or whatever, but you do know that Jey cares for you.

Anything you need is addressed and handled often before you can get to it yourself. Many times you never even have to say but he tends to be attuned to your wants, needs and fanciful little whims and provided whatever it was that you desired.

Your checks hadn’t been nothing to sneeze at since making it onto the main roster but Jey didn’t care. When it comes to money, it was near useless to protest him spending his on you.

But it’s not even about the money—that is the last thing that matters as far as Jey is concerned. He understands your life. What you do, why you do it. The hunger you have to succeed. He knows the ups and downs of being a pro-wrestler all too well, and how refreshing is it to be with someone like that?

Someone that, despite his many years of experience over your still budding career, feels like an equal.

Goosebumps rise and with them a buzz along the entirety of your skin. An understanding of what this is in reach as you slowly crawl to it.

But you’re still in disbelief, and none of this will feel real until you talk to him. You’re just not sure if you want to.

—————

As promised, you do whoop Rhea’s ass and the crowd had been roaring at the chemistry between you two as you fought and scraped in the ring with each other yet again. Coming off of the win is a nice little high, just what you need to push through the rest of the night and confront whatever would unfold.

“Yo, killer, great match,” comes the praise from none other than The Tribal Chief, his fist outstretched to you in the midst of gorilla.

With an appreciative smile, you knock knuckles with him, chest still heaving with exhaustion as the adrenaline shoots throughout your sweat-slick body.

“Thanks—didn’t know you were watching.”

Roman shrugs, tall and strong, radiating silent power even just standing still. “I catch most of your stuff.”

News to you and nice to hear. You’d be slightly embarrassed to tell him just how often you studied his matches.

“What’s this I hear about you and Drew?”

The question is posed more quietly and after he nods for you to step to the side into a darker, isolated corner with him away from the hub of the blue-lit monitors and gaggle of overseers.

You’re surprised at the genuine concern in his eyes, in the furrow of his brow. He’s no stranger to you, but he’s not as close a friend like his cousins are, though there is a mutual fondness.

And, honestly, if he didn’t look so concerned you’d feel more annoyed, but then you also feel partially bad—did Jey come to him in confidence like you had Rhea? Was he upset?

“Just ideas being thrown around,” you try to come off as casually as you can, forcing yourself to not look away and meet his steady gaze. “Ways to bring in a new dynamic, I guess.”

Roman hums, eyes drifting off contemplatively, before he flat out states, “you don’t need Drew for that, though. If anything, you really don’t need anyone for that. You’re solid. If you do truly wanna go the romance route, though—and with a real star, mind you—it’s crazy creative ain’t consider Jey.”

Two things: the way he says Drew’s name as if he thought of him in the same realm as an insect was more amusing than it had any right to be, and the unflinchingly honest opinion that Jey would be a better option.

“Oh, um…” And you really don’t know what to say to that, to the twist and turns of your gut.

Roman is highly intuitive, though, and takes the wide-eyed hesitation as permission to further state his case. “I mean, look, I know y’all are close and maybe it’d be too weird for you, but Drew is definitely not the draw.” His eyes are wide as he gestures, clearly amused by Drew, in general.

“At least with Jey you’d be working closely with someone you know, someone you trust and there’s nothing better than that, believe me.”

You don’t know why but you feel the need to debate, to ask: “What’s so bad about Drew, anyway? He seems nice.”

“Yeah, I bet he does—and don’t get me wrong I enjoyed sonning his ass time and time again but I can’t imagine what a man like him could possibly offer you. And imagine this: you and Jey do a tag thing, romance, whatever and it’s hot? Gets you into the mix with us, with the Bloodline. We could use a fresh face around…”

What an odd thing, to see Roman Reigns so impassioned over hypotheticals that involve you. You wonder if Jey thinks the same but it seems obvious. He usually believes in his cousin’s vision for anything concerning the Bloodline.

And it is slightly flattering to be considered for such a thing.

You huff a laugh through your nose. The grind truly never stops with this family. “Feels like you tryna recruit me, and here I thought you were here on account of your cousin’s feelings.”

Roman shrugs. “I mean, I kinda am but it also really ain’t my business. I know y’all are gonna be good, even if he’s looking all sad and shit.”

Sad?

You crane your neck around, involuntarily searching before you can catch yourself. “Any idea where he is?”

And you quickly realize that’s a stupid question, you look at the clock on the wall and roll your eyes—he should be approaching gorilla any second now to meet Roman before they went out for the show’s final segment.

“Nevermind—look I gotta go, got plans,” and you carefully choose not to mention your future dinner companion, “but I’ll think about what you said.”

Roman nods, watching as you move quicker than expected after taking such hard bumps from Rhea, but you are keen to get out there and just get on with your night. You’re not avoiding anyone nor are you shifting your eyes around in fear of crossing paths with anyone, either.

Before you can fully disappear into the shadows, Roman calls out to you: “Aye, you still coming to the spot after!?”

And damn, you forgot about that. Roman can tell, too, because he looks highly amused at the guilty look on your face once you turn around. “Wow…forgot my birthday, huh.”

“Of course, I didn’t.” Not technically, anyway—just in the moment. With your un-ending thoughts. You even got a gift for him, tucked away in your bag. “Happy birthday, Ro,” and it’d be bad of you to not crawl back and give him a hug, so you do.

“Totally gonna be there after dinner,” you promise, pulling back but not too far with the arm he has slung around your shoulder.

Roman peers down on you, almost like he has something he wants to ask you but refrains for your comfort. In short, he just says, “I’ll be waitin’. Now, go on,” and nods towards the exit.

Grateful, you slink from his grasp and shyly wave bye before actually leaving gorilla this time.

It makes no sense how wired up you are now. You really hadn’t planned on doing much tonight but now it’s looking like you’re all booked up. Which is good, because it affords you to pay less attention to the roar of the crowd when Roman’s music hits, knowing who's gonna be by his side as he walks out.

Thankfully, no one is around when you come back to the locker room to watch you hastily unzip your bag and anxiously grab your phone. Only an address from Drew and nothing else worth noting.

You remember you were supposed to go to Roman’s birthday party with Jey, but now that doesn’t even feel like an option. He’ll most likely be showing up with Jim and Roman himself now. But the silence is as much as addling as the idea of a response.

I don’t have time for this, you succinctly tell yourself and go through the motions of packing your shit up and getting back to tonight’s hotel.

Getting ready takes a bit longer due to your plan of going straight to the club hosting the birthday festivities rather than just back to your room. But it’s worth it because you just know you put that shit on.

Face beat and hair curled perfectly. Giuseppe heels and blood-red vintage Hervé Leger bandage dress that hugs your body just right. With a fly ass Chanel bag to boot.

Look, this is the Tribal Chief’s birthday—no way are you going to half-step.

Dinner with Drew goes by pretty quick and pleasantly. He’s funny with that Scottish charm and nice to talk to. He doesn’t pressure you into deciding if you truly want to try the new angle with him but has many ideas to share that you expand upon yourself. He even picks up the entire tab with not a single thought and asks if you’re going to the party, whether you’d wanna ride together.

You utimately decide against that—Jey’s stupid, irrevlevant he be fuckin on the half the women’s roster in the back of your brain—but say yes to trailing his car through the city streets and walking in together, because why not?

The club is one of the more up-scale clubs you’ve ever stepped foot in and Drew makes a show of whistling at the grandeur of the place, how it’s all decked out for Roman Reigns.

It’s not surprising that basically the entire roster and crew is here. Say what you want about the character he portrays, Roman is loved by the company and respected by its workers.

“This place is crazy,” Drew scoffs, shaking his head. “Anything for the Tribal Chief, eh?”

You wonder at the underlying bitter in his tone, why he even actually came. From Jey to Roman, it doesn’t seem like there’s much fondness between any of them.

You shrug, gift in hand. “He’s earned it. Speaking of him, I gotta find him and give him this,” you shake the ribbon-wrapped box at the Scotsman, yelling over the pounding music as you step further into the lights, “I’ll find you later!”

Drew nods, eyes trailing you as you envelop yourself into the party. Immediately, you’re accosted by all sorts of shouts and hugs, trying to move deeper into the club.

“I thought you weren’t coming!” Bayley, as she scoops you into a crushing hug.

“Nooo, she was. She just had to finish her dinner date with Drewww. See, they even came in together and he’s watching her.” Liv, grinning evilly with a straw between her teeth.

“Ohhh shit, sis, I ain’t know you got down with the milk!” Je’von, his eyes shifting back and forth before hugging you next. For his comment, you poke him hard with your nails in his side, to which he cries out, “my bad, my bad, my bad!”

“Uce bouta be hella mad...” Montez, sharing looks with Rhea and Angelo.

You suck your teeth, pushing past them to scan for the man of the hour. Unsurprisingly, you find him sequestered with his cousins, and more cousins, in a dark section some feet away. Inwardly, you snort as you think about how this is his night and he’s barely interacting with the people here for him.

“Can y’all shut up and move out the damn way?”

Montez raises his hands up as in surrender and steps to the side. When you stalk by, Rhea says nothing but her eyes say too much as she looks between you and the section.

You’re too sober for this shit, which you don’t realize you say out loud but you must’ve because immediately Liv is yelling for shots! and, magically, Dom appears with a tray of foreboding shot glasses, filled to the brim.

“Let’s goooo!”

You take another look at the section, who’s in it, before happily accepting a glass as Dom brandishes the tray towards you. “Tequila?”

“The only way!” Dirty Dom shouts, grinning in that mischievous way of his. “You gonna need two, girl—get another!”

You start to protest but then they start chanting—double shot, double shot—and it’s, like, well…mama ain’t raise no bitch.

The first shot goes down nice and smooth, everyone around joining you and whooping crazy after. But then you’re alone for the second, eyeing the glass between your fingertips warily. Just as you think you’ll have to take it alone, Drew reappears, his huge body sliding just a little too close behind you as he plucks a glass off the tray, but you like him enough so it’s fine.

“What are we cheers’ing to?” He asks you specifically, and it doesn’t take long for you to shout almost as loud as the bass, “to the OTC!”

Everyone cheers and laughs as you and Drew throw back the shots and you pull a face at doing two back-to-back. Dom disappears into the crowd, probably returning the tray and glasses, making way for Becky to slide into the small little circle that’s been made.

Immediately, she’s smiling, her eyes wide as she notices you and you're just as delighted to return the hug she’s wrapping you up in. Becky’s cool—you’ve always liked working with and talking to her.

“Oh my gosh, girl, you look stunnin’!” Her accent is more pronounced and when you pull back, you notice that glassy look in her eye as she gives you the once-over. But you’re starting to feel warm yourself and less nervous than before, so you repay the compliment loudly. “Oh pssshhh, everyone here looks like chopped liver next to ya—this dress is perfect on you!”

“And I had the pleasure of sharing dinner with such a fine lady this evening,” Drew brags, looking high and mighty.

Becky makes a sound of affront. “Ya lucky bastard—Uce’s gonna have you for that!”

You frown while everyone laughs, all of them in on some joke that you aren’t. Did they all share the same opinion as Rhea?

“I’ll take Jey down,” Drew boasts jokingly—you think—before slinging a heavy arm around your shoulders, “don’t care.”

Liv gives you a look, eyes wide before gesturing behind her with her head, towards that section. You look, simultaneously noticing the newly vacant spot on Roman’s right and the man now pushing through the crowd. Coming closer and closer.

Fuck.

“Aye, man, hate to do this to you and everything,” you’re slightly horrified as Jey shoulders in, past a knowing Rhea, and leans forward to grasp your arm, pulling you away from the burly Scotsman and into his side, “but she’s needed over here with me, uce. C’mon, baby.”

You truly hate that the first thing you notice, other than the blatant irritation in his eyes, is how good he smells and how warm his body is next to yours. And, strangely, you missed him.

Only a few hours, in which he was responsible for making you anxious and confused and overall upset, but you missed him.

“Why?” Drew dares to challenge, something tense building here that you did not like. “To say happy birthday? She already did. She told me—over dinner.”

And, ew.

Jey might’ve upset you earlier and you still don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but you know you don’t like Drew’s tone as he speaks to him. You don’t overly care for how Montez and Angelo make a yikes face to each other, or how Liv says uh-oh under her breath.

Jey doesn’t care for it either because he actually looks two seconds from flipping this damn club upside down if Drew implies anything else. And the last thing you want is for Jey to get active. Because, trust, he’ll get active.

“You know what,” you cut in with a false smile, moving closer into Jey’s side, his arm automatically wrapping around your waist, “we’re actually gonna go so I can give my gift to Roman. Y’all done held me up too long, anyways.”

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Bayley says diplomatically, suspiciously maneuvering her body between a jaw-clenching Jey and a smug Drew. “Have fun, guys.”

Not much more needs to be said after that. Jey is quick to whip your bodies around, arm still firmly around you, hand on your stomach as he steers you towards the VIP section—the touch truly nothing new but, tonight, it feels…

“Fuck he meant by dinner?” And it’s said with such a tone of disgust that you cannot help but to laugh, further pissing him off. You don’t wanna piss him off. It’s just—is he serious? “Oh, okay—yeah it’s funny. We gon’ talk about this shit.”

But not any time soon because as soon as you start heading up the tiny amount of stairs into VIP, you hear, “Oh shit, now! They lettin’ baddies into the section!”

“Man, shut the hell up,” Jey scowls at his twin, letting you go in favor of plopping back down in his original seat.

You roll your eyes at his attitude before grinning back at Jimmy, arms wide out for a hug. “Jimmmm! How are you?”

“Man, I’m good—got Big Uce out with us for once.” He jabs a thumb over to Big Uce. “You know his ass a damn hermit.”

Roman, from where he’s been sat in the center like a king presiding over his court, echoes Jey’s earlier statement. “Shut up.”

You chuckle at their antics, pulling back to reveal your present to the birthday boy. He looks genuinely surprised, “oh, so you didn’t forget.”

“Of course, I ain’t forget.” You watch with eager eyes as he takes it. “Now, come on, open it.”

Roman shakes his head, smiling as his fingers undo the bow. “You didn’t have to,” he laughs when you, hands on you hips, give a yes, I did look, “but I appreciate it.”

“That’s better,” you tell him, stepping further in to shoo Jey over.

He smacks his lips but does so, anyway. You take in the hard line of his jaw, how hard he’s clenching his teeth. You don’t know what comes over you but you whisper don’t be like that before raising a hand to smooth over his jaw. He relaxes but only a little, side-eyeing you for a moment that seems to linger before sliding his gaze over to his cousin.

The wide stretch of Roman’s grin has you smiling too as he opens the box to reveal a very nice, very expensive watch. “I know how much you love ‘em, so here’s another for your collection.”

“And I helped her pick, too.” Jey pipes up by your side. “So really you should thank me.”

You roll your eyes. “Boy, no you didn’t. You was looking at some bullshit actually.” Jey, predictably, smacks his lips at the sound of Jimmy’s cackle. “I have good taste.”

Roman chuckles, still appraising his newest timepiece, whistling in appreciation at the way the diamonds dance under the blue lights. “You sure do—this is fire,” he nods in approval before smiling your way, “and this ain’t cheap, too. Thank you.”

“Anything for family,” you say now, shyly shrugging, a little tipsy from the shots, warm with Jey’s body heat bleeding into your skin.

And Roman’s eyes grow warmer at that, a quiet fondness there that he only does look at those he deems family with. A step up in your relationship.

“You hear that, uce?” Jimmy nods over to Jey, eyes wide with secret meaning that’s slowly starting not to feel so secret. “She family.”

You look over your shoulder but now his shades are on and he says nothing, just nods impassively. Roman is standing when you turn back, stomach twisting, pouring a drink which he hands off to you.

“Now, that’s something we gotta toast to.” His words make you, and all his cousins, come to your feet. He raises his glass, everyone in the section following suit. “To The Bloodline! To family!”

“To family!” Everyone cries in unison. Roman leans forward to clink your glasses together, signaling you to drink the dark liquid with him.

It burns going down but it’s good. One of Roman’s younger cousins you’re not familiar with approaches you with a friendly hug and then Jacob, who you actually do know better, is wrapping a strong arm around your neck, yelling in your ear about how he loves you and that you’re good for Josh.

You return the sentiment but altogether bypass that other statement, which Jacob notices. “Aye, sis, lemme holla at you real quick,” and then he’s escorting you off to the side, his eyes strangely serious for someone intoxicated. “When y’all gon’ stop playing?”

Your first instinct is to deny, deny, deny. To act dumb. To shrink down whatever this is. But then your eyes are catching Jey gazing your way, obvious even behind those shades, and you can’t stop the exasperated laugh that falls from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you say plainly, honestly. Throwing your hands up because you cannot believe you’ve been so willfully blind. It’s a testament to how much you truly like Jacob, being so open about it for the first time.

“This is all catching me off guard, to be honest. It’s, like, I’ve always, always known that Jey cares about me. He took a chance on me, from day one by my side. Not only being my best friend but guiding me, being invested in my career. That means, well, everything.”

“But he’s always been in a relationship. Even when that shit was off, it was on, you know?” Jacob nods, listening earnestly despite his glazed over eyes. “And I care too much to risk anything. Whatever this is, it’ll fizz out and it’ll blow over and we’ll still be just us. It has to, Jake.”

Jacob hums, amusingly contemplative with a drink in his hand, before saying, “Look, I love my uce, man. And I know him, too. Just like you do. And he loves the fuck outta you, girl. You can’t tell by now?”

With that, you can’t help but glance back over to Jey, standing away, sipping his drink. Still watching. You don’t even have to see his eyes to feel him. Feel what he’s feeling.

You shake your head, blinking over at Jacob. “I can’t do this. I’m not good at relationships. Neither is he, to be honest, and we’d only just ruin it. Like I said—this’ll blow over.”

Jacob looks like he wants to say more but you don’t, so you polish off your drink and politely excuse yourself. Instead of going back to your seat, it’s the dance floor you turn to.

Liv is excited to see you again, grabbing you up and screeching out a, “finallyyyy! Let’s dance, bitch!”

And dance, you can do.

Shaking. Twirling. Gyrating.

The liquor for sure has kicked in because you don’t give a damn who sees, you’re doing all of it. Your work family takes turns spinning you, touching you, grinding on you—it’s so fun, you barely care who it is just as long as the music keeps jumping and the drinks keep coming.

Shit, you’re so lit right now you’re pretty sure the body behind your whining hips is Je’von—who damn near feels like a little brother to you—but you’re unbothered and feeling better than you have all night.

But, then, you're being spun around by Je’von…who actually turns out to be Drew. “Oh, shit—my bad!”

“Why’re you apologizing?” he smirks, big hands on your still moving hips, bringing you closer. He leans down so his voice is in your ear. “I have nothing to complain about.”

“Right…” you trail off, unsure, eyes anxiously darting over to the VIP area, to Jey standing at the front of it. His eyes are most likely shooting flames behind those shades, threatening to light Drew’s ass up. Jimmy in his ear, no doubt telling him to chill. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

The Scotsman snorts, peering over his shoulder to Jey. “He got a claim over you now?”

In a way, you think. But not entirely.

“I don’t wanna step on any toes,” Drew is saying now, gathering your attention again. His blue eyes are fierce and slightly unnerving as he admits: “I just can’t deny that I’m eager for you to say yes to working with me, not only ‘cause you’re good but also because you are beautiful. I want a chance to prove myself.”

The admission makes you a little dizzy, though you’re not dumb—Drew has been clearly attracted to you from the jump. You just didn’t expect him to say as much, and so soon.

“Prove yourself…to me?”

Drew nods, sincere, squeezing your hips. “Don’t you know half the boys are dying to get with you, but don’t even try because of your Samoan bodyguard?” What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. “Jey’s a fool for not giving you what you deserve.”

He gives me everything I deserve, is what you would say had you actually possessed the capability to continue speaking. But you don’t.

“Tell Hunter yes and I’ll give you more than he ever could, sweetheart.”

Your face pulls, affronted by the pet name. “Like I said before, Drew, I’ll think on it. Excuse me, I’m tired and need a break.” From you, you tactfully leave out.

Drew makes a noise of protest as you break off from him, sliding through the sea of bodies and huffing to yourself as you all but stomp back over to VIP. Jey’s there at the top of the stairs, still staring down your former dance partner.

“These heels are starting to kill me,” you tell him by way of greeting, “and I need some damn water.”

You don’t see Jey behind you grabbing a bottle off a nearby table as he follows you back to the now abandoned couch. Roman is some mere feet away, laughing at something Jimmy and Jacob are saying when you plop back down on the velvet couch.

Jey settles right next to you, holding out the water which you gladly take and guzzle down. Big arms crossed over his chest, his voice is dry and unamused as he narrows his eyes. “Tired from shaking ass on everybody?”

Not willing to play into it, you coolly nod. “Something like that,” you shrug, sipping some more.

But he’s not content with that. He forces you to play his game.

“You fucked him?”

It is a close thing to not spit your water out everywhere but you certainly choke a little. Jey lets you recover while pushing his glasses onto his head, so you can see just how serious he is. His eyes are hard and unforgiving.

If there was ever a world that existed in which you did have sex with Drew, it wasn’t this one but he didn’t seem convinced of that.

You wipe at the sides of your mouth, forcefully putting the water bottle down, making the small remnants splash on to his dark wash jeans. Not that he cares. He’s still staring hard, daring you to confess.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” The volume of your shriek managing to reach the ears of his family even over the music, gaining their wary attention. “Why would you ever think that?”

Jey shrugs, hands folded, uncaring of the looks. “I said we was gon’ talk about this shit. Y’all came together. Had dinner together. Your fuckin’ phone was on DND for two hours while I was tryna get in touch with you. He was over there hugged up on you and shit, you grinding on him. Probably got him bricked. Genuinely, what the fuck are you doing?”

“One thing I’m currently not doing,” you jab a finger in his face, truly hot now, “is fucking Drew McIntyre—are you insane!?”

But, of course, Jey just has to be a stubborn ass hothead and not even listen to you. Getting in your face as he raises his voice a fraction, “currently? So there is a chance, then! I’m not fuckin’ stupid!”

“What does it matter to you!?” You shout, arms stretched out. “It’s never mattered to you who I’ve fucked before. For all you know, I could’ve fucked anyone we work with.” His eyes flash in anger but you have a point to prove. “I’m a grown ass woman, in case you forgot! If I wanna fuck any one of these niggas, that’s my business!”

“You better not be—you don’t even get down like that,” he sneers with a disgusted frown. As if casual, consensual sex as an adult should be beneath you. It is not. You do, in fact, get down like that but haven’t ever since you’ve been injured and recovered to return to work.

“And everybody know better, anyway,” Jey goes on, bragging his supposed ownership over you. “They know not to even think of you like that.”

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh loudly, maybe even immaturely but you’re past caring. If he wants to go there, you’re right with him. “Drew told me a lot of the boys want me but yo’ ass is cockblocking which, you know, is pretty upsetting because,” you pause to tap your chin as if in thought, “now it’s coming back to my attention that I ain’t had none in a while. At least Drew’s not afraid to try it. Kinda sexy of him, actually…”

The words land, of course. You watch smugly as Jey’s eye actually twitches, his top lip pulling back into that signature snarl that displays the gold in his mouth before he scrubs a hand down his face. He takes a long moment to stare up at the ceiling. If he’s smart, he’d be wisely considering his next words to you.

When he looks at you again, it’s still heated but there’s a different glint in his eye now. One that makes you subtly shift in your seat and blow out a nervous breath through your nostrils.

“You got this tight ass dress on,” he sucks his teeth, reaching up to tug at a strap, the sting that comes with it snapping back against your skin making you gasp in light outrage. “Dancing on dudes and ignoring me. What is it, huh? Why you actin’ out?”

Acting out? You huff out an unimpressed breath, eyes shifting before returning to stare at him in disbelief. Slowly, confusingly, he grins like the Cheshire cat—gold fronts glittering deviously.

Backing down isn’t an option for you, but somehow you can feel that you’ve lost.

“If all you wanted was some dick, baby, all you had to do was ask.”

Not the words you were expecting to hear in a million years.

The reaction is instant. You gasp quietly but you know he can hear it, too close to you not to. Your cheeks flush as your eyes widen, staring at him in shock. Your head feeling fuzzier for more reasons than the alcohol.

“Yeah, shut that shit up.” Jey commands, leaning forward to grab your chin and make you look him directly in the eye. Not allowing you to shy away or hide from it.

“Don’t I give you everything you need?” Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, you nod dumbly underneath his palm, his gaze approving. “Don’t I always take care of you?” Another nod because he does, he does it the best. “So, why you going to other muhfuckas like you need something from ‘em? Do you?” A shake of the head. “So get yo’ fine ass up, go wish uce happy birthday again, and meet me at the door.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A part of you is terrified, heart beating fast as hell, but the larger part of you is so turned on you could genuinely moan right here and now. Jey is gone before you can approach Roman again but you’re quick to do what he says, lowkey cursing yourself with every step that makes it blatantly obvious how wet your panties are.

Roman and Jimmy must feel the nervous, frantic energy coming off of you because in unison they ask with worried gazes: “Y’all good?”

You giggle anxiously, wringing your hands together. “Y-yeah, we just, um, realized that maybe we shouldn’t be doing all that in front of everyone at your birthday party,” you wince apologetically at Roman. “So, uh, yeah…we’re gonna take our conversation elsewhere like adults.”

Behind them, Jacob is watching you with a knowing smirk but doesn’t say a word. Roman does, though, coming forward to embrace you and thank you graciously for coming along with the gift. Jimmy, however, narrows his eyes suspiciously at you and then back towards the direction his twin vanished to. Which has you thinking in a panic fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows…

“Well, be safe, girl,” is all he says after hugging you too, still regarding you with a glint in his eye. “Don’t hurt him too bad, now. I need my tag partner!”

Laughing again, you depart the section with waves to everyone. Once you disappear onto the dance floor, does Jimmy plainly state: “Oh, they finna fuck.”

Roman nods, going back to his drink. “Fuckin’ finally.”

“He gon’ do her in, too,” Jacob adds, locs swaying while he shakes his head, as if pitying you.

Had you been there you would’ve been mortified by their blunt observation but you’re not. Your heels currently clack viciously along the floor as you near the doors. You manage a few rushed goodbyes but don’t make the time to stop for anyone, not wanting to make Jey, or yourself, wait any longer.

Like he said, Jey is there at the doors when you approach, casually standing off to the side as the bouncer talks to him about something you genuinely can’t care less about. Once he sees you, he holds his hand out, gesturing to your purse. Mutely, you hand it over, coming close to hug his arm to your body, already simpering with need as he grabs your keys.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to you and then raises a hand to dap up the bouncer. “Aye, man, don’t work too hard. Have a good night, uce.”

The bouncer returns the sentiment but it barely matters when Jey is already tugging you out of the building, your purse slung over the shoulder you’re not wrapped around. You shiver as the cool night air hits your bare legs, burrowing closer into his side as the two of you make way to the parking lot.

“You cold, baby?” Baby. He always calls you that but it sounds different now. Full of meaning that actually does feel like a claim. You bite your lip, nodding up at him. He brings you closer into his side, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “We gon’ get you warm real soon.”

Another rush of heat goes through your veins at the double meaning of his promise. Your treasured candy red Kia Soul comes into view and Jey hits the button to unlock the doors. You break away from him, going to the passenger side but he’s right behind you, quick to open the door for you before you can.

“Thank you,” you peer shyly up at him before sliding into the seat and quickly bringing your legs in so he can close the door.

Jey rounds the front of the car to slide into the driver’s side, using the push to start to bring the engine to life. While he backs out of the parking space, your head is spinning with so many thoughts and questions, mainly—are you really going to do this? Could this not ruin everything?

You’ve been quietly fretting so long that you didn’t even realize you’re on the road until he speaks up, one hand on the wheel, the other a warm balm on your knee that was just bouncing a second ago.

“Aye, baby, do me a favor?” You gaze at him in wait, his side-profile so handsome under the city lights that streak through the glass over his face. “Answer me a question.”

“Okay...”

Jey nods, taking a left turn before speaking. “You said you ain’t had none in a while—how long?”

The question has your heart beating fast again, the pulse of it rivaling the one between your legs. “Since before the injury.”

More nodding, as if he thought as much. “And in all that time, what did you do to blow off steam? Did you touch yourself?”

And, Lord, what a question. You rarely talked about sex with Jey. If there were any discussions about it, it was him telling you about a past experience or him casually asking if you’d been recently entertaining anyone in that way. But nothing so forward.

You try not to blush—you are grown, for fuck’s sake—but Jey makes it hard to remain cool. “I mean, yes, but that’s normal.”

“Okay, cool—so put your hand in them panties and do it for me.” You stare at his face in shock but he only glances at you before turning his attention back on the road. “It’s aight, mama, I just want you to be ready for me.”

If he weren’t operating a moving vehicle, you might’ve actually jumped on him. Instead, you refrain from your baser urges and tell him with a breathy whisper, “I been ready for you.”

It’s Jey’s turn to tell himself to chill, you can tell by the way his eyes flutter shut for a brief second and how knuckles turn damn near white on the wheel. You’re delighted by the effect you have on him. You have to give it to Rhea—Jey did have the hots for you.

“How long that pussy been wet for me?” he asks as calmly as he can. His restraint only makes you hotter.

“Honestly?” Jey nods, glancing at the Apple Maps as it guides him closer to the hotel. “Probably ever since you snatched me up from Drew.” Because that shit was sexy. In a stupid, man-cave way. How he mean-mugged Drew, how tight his arm round its way around your body. How his entire body language said mine, mine, mine. “And there’s been other times…”

He can’t help the way his head snaps to your face, at the glossed lip underneath your teeth. That doe-eyed innocent look you perfected and only looked at him with. “That I got you wet?” You nod, batting your pretty lashes at him. “What you do then?”

“This.”

Spreading your legs, you follow his instruction and dip your hands in between the rucked-up hem of your dress. The breath of relief and pleasure is immediate once you push the lace to the side and feel your arousal, how it clings to your manicured fingertips.

Jey is trying his hardest not to crash the damn car but, fuck, if you don’t look good as hell right now. Sound good, too. Not just your hypnotizing breathy moans and whimpers but the actual sound of that dripping pussy being played with ricochets throughout the small enclosed space of the car.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Jey,” you breathe out, clit underneath your fingers, more moisture pooling with every circle and stroke. “I actually wanna make it to the room so you can fuck me.”

“Girl, keep playin’ and I’ll pull over right now and make you take this dick on the side of the road. I don’t give a fuck.”

The blunt statement incites you to pick up speed, openly moaning now because it feels too fucking good to do anything else. So many nights you’d done this, secretly thinking of him the whole time, the pleasure in the moment too good to feel the guilt that would come soon after.

But now you don’t have to feel guilty because the feeling is mutual. Always has been. You’re allowed to take. To have him. “Jey, baby, I’m already so fuckin’ c-close—shit,” you whine in warning, leaking more than you ever have, belly tight with the too fast rising of your climax. “Fuuuuck, I’m gon’ come!”

Jey is so grateful for the red light that comes up, completely forgoing looking at the road in favor of your pretty face all scrunched up and your desperate hand working away between your legs. His own hand comes up to the back of your neck, maneuvering your head in his grasp to meet your heavily-lidded eyes with his sharp ones.

“Go ‘head, bae, get that fuckin’ nut and come for Daddy.”

And that’s really all you need.

It’s a fucking miracle, with how hard you come, that you don’t squirt all over your seats. Instead you just shake and shout so loud your throat feels raw as you quite literally experience heaven on earth, Jey a greedy voyeur at your side.

“Fuck, baby, gimme some,” and your head is still reeling so you don’t even have time to register his words before your hand is being snatched away and your fingers are in his mouth in record time. He moans so damn loud between sucks and licks, you would’ve thought he was the one that just came.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.”

A loud, abrupt honk interrupts you, bringing you back to reality. Oh, god—you really just came at a stoplight. “Hurry, baby, it’s green.”

Jey takes your fingers out his mouth but keeps a firm grip on your hand as he accelerates a touch too fast. Hazy with the orgasm, you thread your fingers in between his, neither of you caring about the dampness of your touch.

You quietly watch him the rest of the way. It’s just about three minutes but it’s three minutes spent with quiet shared looks between you and him, both of you marveling at each other, reveling in the newfound change in your relationship.

“C’mon, ma, we here,” Jey tells you while throwing the car in park in front of the ritzy hotel. He remains seated, however, when he glances over at you, eyes roving over your flushed face, lingering on the softness of your lips.

“I had you come for me but ain’t even kiss you yet,” he chuckles a touch boyish, bringing a smile to your face. “Shit hella backwards.”

You lean forward over the console, emboldened by his pure, honest desire for you mixed with that sweet earnestness you always loved. “You should fix that, then.”

Jey doesn’t need to be told any more. He leans forward, his big hands enveloping you, cradling your head to bring you closer and hold you as your lips finally touch. It’s automatic—how easy it is to kiss Jey.

Of course, it is. The rhythm unhurried and full of promise. His lips so soft and pliable upon your own. The pass of his tongue to get you to open up. How both of you moan at the meeting and slide of your tongues, the wetness there.

You reach up to grip his biceps that strain under his white tee, desperation keying up to an all-time high to feel how strong he is, how big. His hand drops down to the back of your neck, gripping there as your heads tilt to get deeper into the kiss.

“Fuck, Jey, I need you so bad,” you plead with a heaving chest as you break for air, his eyes so dark and pretty, “I can’t wait no more.”

On cue, a knock at your window has you turning to see a polite-looking valet trying peer through the tint. “Alright, shit, let’s go,” Jey agrees before bestowing another peck on your lips.

Both of you exit the car, you shyly nodding at the young valet as Jey comes around and hands your keys over. He grabs your hand, nodding his thanks at the man before tugging you along. Equally still intoxicated and riding the high of Jey has you stumbling once or twice after him but he only laughs and brings you closer, not so sober himself.

The elevator ride is unshockingly spent with him in your space, crowding you against the wall as his lips trail dizzying kisses along your neck, the line of your clavicle, licking into between your cleavage. You hold him close, fingers embedded into his mullet as you spread wide for him and grind onto his pelvis, feeling what lies underneath those pants for you.

“You don’t know how bad I want you, baby,” Jey says into your skin, his eyes low just like yours. “How sick I was when you were gone and recovering at home. How sick I get when someone thinks they can touch you. Can have you.”

You shake your head, messy bangs creeping into your eyes. “They can’t,” you avow faithfully, “not now. Not ever.”

Jey pulls back to look at you, unblinking. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, baby,” you reassure him easily, caressing his bearded jaw. Chest feeling like it’s gonna cave in with how fast your blood is pumping. “I’m yours, and I’m not doing that stupid storyline with Drew. I’m not doing it unless I can do it with you.”

Jey presses his forehead to yours, staring down at you so intensely, your toes curl in your heels. “You want that? You want the world to know you mine, mama?”

“‘Course, I do, daddy,” you tell him just as the elevator dings with the arrival to your floor and the doors slide open. “I want everybody knowing who I belong to, and who belongs to me.”

Jey mutters a fuck under his breath before taking your hand and leading you out of the elevator to your room with haste. You giggle as he struggles with the keycard, kissing along the back of his neck in the meantime before he eventually gains access to the room and snatches you into it.

As soon as the door slams, he’s on you again. Hands everywhere. Lips everywhere. You can barely keep up. He succinctly decides that he’s, “gotta taste you for real,” before putting his hands on your hips and guiding you towards the plush bed.

Before he pushes you down on it, you stop him with a hand to chest, the other hand reaching around for the zipper at your back. Jey is quick to help when you fumble, admiring the smooth skin of your back that gets revealed to him inch by inch the further the zipper goes down. You shift so he’s in front of you again, a sly smile on your lips as you shimmy out of the straps and drop the dress altogether to let it pool at your feet.

You’re naked as the day you came into this world with the exception of your panties and heels and Jey is eating you up with his eyes.

“Damn, baby—it ain’t fair how fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

You can't help but grin bashfully, especially as you coyly request, “if you’re gonna eat my pussy, can you at least take your shirt off for me, daddy?”

“Hell yeah, girl,” his overzealous agreement makes you giggle before taking your lip in between your teeth as his skin comes into view. Your eyes greedily rove over the ink, seeing it with new eyes. Taking in how fine he is. He notices your desire, how you unabashedly check him out, and nods towards the bed. “Sit that sexy ass down for me.“

You obey, excitement ramping up to see him kick off his Forces, his pecs flexing as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down. The sizable print he sports in his boxer briefs has your mouth watering instantly. If you were wet before, you were soaked now.

“Lay back, beautiful,” he says, approaching the bed. Which you do, head still spinning from the drinks and giddy as ever. Jey drops down to his knees, eyes greedily drinking in your bare skin from the length of your smooth legs all the way up to your round tits sitting on your chest, the brown nipples peaked and hard.

“Let me take care of you…”

And then your panties are coming down your thighs to be tugged off past your feet and thrown elsewhere. You’re more eager than you realize, spreading your legs without him having to tell or coax you. Pussy on display as Jey grips your hips to pull you closer, more open and wide for him.

You have the audacity to blush at the look of awe on his face as he studies the arousal threatening to drip down to your ass at this point. How soft and delicate you look in this special place.

“Pretty ass pussy,” he salivates over it, breath fanning your mound and clit in a dizzying manner. “You been hiding this from me, huh.” His thumb comes up to lightly circle that pearl, coaxing more cum out and making you whine already. “Hiding such a perfect pussy, knowing I be fiendin’ for it.”

He’s going to kill you before his mouth even touches you. “Baby—Jey, please.” The desperation bleeding out of you must work—you don’t even have to beg that much before he’s gripping your thighs and pushing them back to give one searing lick from hole to clit. “Oh, shit…”

He’s relentless after that.

He chooses to immediately focus on your still sensitive clit from the car orgasm, flicking and lapping at it with his tongue. You cannot help but to start twitching already, not when his mouth feels so fucking good. A mouth you imagined on you countless times but the dreaming pales in comparison to the real thing.

“Relax for me, baby,” his voice muffled by your wet cunt, a hand coming up to rest on your belly.

But that’s easier said than done. Jey is on a mission to make you feel good, kissing and licking your pussy with finesse and hunger. You helplessly run your fingers through his hair before gripping the curls for dear life, moaning and writhing on his mouth as he groans from your touch.

Jey rears back to spit on your pussy, not because you weren’t wet enough but because he’s nasty as hell, and the smug twinkle in his eye as he looks up to see your eyes rolling back after witnessing his filth is proof of that.

“Always knew you’d be so sweet,” he slurs in awe, lips messy and wet with you. “Can’t let nobody else taste it now.”

Instantly you’re shaking your head with the sheets in a death grip under your hands, voice guttural as you choke out, “nobody ever. Just you.”

Because it’s true. Just one taste of Jey, along the night’s revelations, already has you inwardly swearing off any other man.

“Oh, yeah?” Jey hums, greedy gaze drinking up the sight of your swollen clit under his thumb, the clear sticky fluid drooling out of you with every twist of his skilled finger down to the crack of your ass.

He decides your hole looks lonely and shifts his thumb so his other hand can enter the fray, two thick fingers tunneling their way in. Fucking through the tight grip that chokes them and makes his dick jump beneath damp fabric.

“You promise?” His voice so sweet even if his fingers were doing bad, bad things to you.

Embarrassingly and weakly, you nod down at him rapidly, making you look like some dumb bobble-head as your eyes widen and your grip tugs at the bleached ends of his mullet. “I promise, baby, I swear. It’s so good—don’t want no one else.”

Which he knows now. But the words are still validating as hell to hear. Jey needs you. Has needed you for a long, long time even when he was being stupid and fucking around with people that didn’t matter.

And nothing matters more in this moment to him than you and the pleasure you’ve been silently craving. His own desire intertwined with yours.

Eager to make you feel good, Jey’s mouth latches on your clit and he sucks hard while the tip of his tongue twirls in vicious, tight circles. Nevermind his fingers that still thrust and dig in you, hitting a spot that you’d often found difficult to reach with your own fingers. The sudden intensity sends you crying out, soles of your feet bearing down on Jey’s upper back as you try to not fucking explode in his arms.

Being so attuned to you, Jey senses the fraying restraint on your part, secretly thrilled to watch you try to fight it from between your thick thighs. “Yeah, mama, I know,” his smug yet soothing voice muffled against nothing but wet flesh, “can feel you squeezing my fingers.”

Blood rushes to ears, your face frowned up due to the relentless onslaught of Jey’s skilled mouth. You swear you’re not trying to tug his damn hair out but your grip does become firmer once you start lifting your hips to essentially ride his face. Not wanting the sensation to stop, getting so close…

“Jey—Daddy—oh my god, please.”

And he loves it—groaning loudly, still flicking that wicked tongue before using his free hand to crack you on the side of the ass to encourage the eager thrusts against his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” you moan into the air, head thrown against the fluffy covers. “Baby, s-shit—I think it’s co—unhhh—coming!”

Another hard swat to your ass. The curl of his fingers and the way he rubs against that one spot. Ramping up the pulling on his sucks that echo throughout the entire room and the speed of his tongue.

All that combined with his domineering order for you to, “gimme that shit,” into your over-heated, drenched skin and you’re gone.

The entire room feels like it splits open. You try to scream but the sound gets caught, trapped in your throat. Hips buck and toss against the overwhelming feeling. Thighs tense up and squeeze as your feet shake and your eyes slide back into your skull.

Jey doesn’t move. Holds you through it. Licks and kisses you through it. His handsome face set with determination in the midst of your thighs that has you finally mustering a weak sob that gets bulldozed by drawn out moans.

“Oh, fuck, I can’t…” And you start to push at his shoulders, oversensitivity rushing through your entire frame.

Kindly, Jey rears back and takes a moment to admire your gushy cunt before glancing up to your flushed face. The rapid speed of your blinking at the ceiling convinces him to take pity and come to his feet rather than attach his mouth back to his new favorite place.

“Did so good…” his voice sounds far away and you claw at any strength you can to look down and see his hands at his waistband.

Before you can really register that what he’s doing is taking his underwear off, the entirety of him is free. Hard, long, and thick. Hanging heavy between his tatted tights. So brown and pretty.

Goddamn.

Now, look, subconsciously you were aware, in a way, that Jey wasn’t small or even average. With certain men it’s just obvious. The way they walk, the way they talk. You remember having a conversation like this with Trin—her not outright saying that Jimmy was gifted but that he wasn’t being called Big Jim for no reason. Which got you thinking. And what a coincidence it was that Jey just so happened to walk in the room, Trin raising her brows and glancing at her brother-in-law and then to you, pointedly.

So, yeah, you knew but it still makes your heart skip a beat and has you rearing up onto your elbows, getting a better look as his right hand comes up to start stroking the length of it. Maybe you look horrified to Jey because his other hand comes up to your ankle, thumb brushing over the diamond anklet. “We’ll go slow, baby,” he murmurs, a sweet offer and promise. “I got you.”

Though it’s funny he thinks you’re scared—initially startled, yes—and not as terribly horny as you are. You leer at him under the dark fan of your lashes. “Give me that dick,” you drawl lustfully, spreading your legs even further. The surprised flash of his eyes only further emboldens you, lights a fire in your chest. “I ain’t fuckin’ scared.”

Because you’re not—this is Jey. He would never hurt you. He’s gonna take care of you.

“Shit, girl,” he exhales breathlessly before bringing his knees up to the bed, scooting your bodies further into the middle. Right hand still stroking his dick and making your tongue dart out to your lips as you peek.

He sees the pink wetness of it and hungrily claims your mouth with his own, the kiss quickly turning wet and filthy. Twin moans fall out of you that only stretch further at the sensation of that mushroom tip sliding against you.

“Can’t be talkin’ like that—what if I wanna be a gentleman, huh? Take my time with my favorite girl?”

Any other time, that’d be good and wonderful but the liquor is flowing through your veins and you’re in the arms of this sexy man who is yours after so long. So, you take matters into your hands, knowing how stubborn Jey can be.

You laugh cruelly, gazing up into his glazed over eyes. “Drew wouldn’t be gentle.”

The fire instantly ignited in his gaze is your fault, you know it, and so is the way he cocks his hips back, tip pressing into you faster than you’re prepared. “Wait, wai—” But it’s too late, thundering heart coming to a halt as the breath in your lungs is pushed out of you the same second he pushes all the way in. “Fuck!”

“Shut that shit up, lil girl,” he growls, eyes fluttering at the tightness enveloping him. “Been waitin’ too fuckin’ long and yo’ ass wanna play.”

You did want this, you did but Jesus.

Unable to do much else, you wrap your legs around Jey’s waist and clutch at his broad shoulders as he starts the punishing pace he sets to pound you into the mattress. Squirming and twisting under his strong hold doesn’t do anything other than make him grip your waist and pull your hips into his. The meeting of your bodies borderline painful but so good.

All you can do is take it, and he says as much, spitting down at you, “been bad all fucking night, you gon’ stay here and get this dick.”

It’s getting to be too much, and too quickly. A deep sense of fear is building within—there’s no way you can be coming again so fast. He barely just started.

“S-s-shit, Joshua, I’m f-finna…fuck!”

Above you, chain swinging in your face, Jey nods cockily, gaze darting between the disbelief on your pretty face and the hypnotizing bounce of your tits. “Talkin’ shit but already nuttin’ on Daddy’s dick?” he huffs out, reaching up to grasp your chin in his warm palm. “Did I say you could do that?”

You shake your head under his hand helplessly, pathetically. “No b-but I still gotta! Can’t fucking stop!” Hard rhythmic clenches around him to prove your point. Desperate hands clawing and scratching at his skin. “I-I’mma nut on that dick!”

If he wants you to stop, he’s certainly not helping by latching his wet mouth onto your left nipple, sucking and tugging the brown peak between his teeth. “Jey, oh shittt…!”

That's the last of any warning you’re able to give him before crashing headfirst into another orgasm, shaking throughout the process, only seeing white and feeling Jey’s touch.

Rather than slowing down and letting you come down softly, he rears up off your body a little, snaking a hand up to your throat. The wet slapping noise of your fucking ramping up as Jey only swings his hips harder and applies the right amount of pressure at the sides of your neck.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” Lousy pleas through gasps and eager sucks of air that he’s controlling. Jey is blurry through your tear-pooled eyes but you can see the gold in his mouth when he grins at the feel of your hand scrambling up to grip his wrist.

“This what you wanted?” he teases, a little mean and absolutely perfect. You’re unsure if you nod or don’t but he laughs all the same. “Never woulda thought my baby was a slut.”

Degradation isn’t always your cup of tea but Jey does it so good that it’s hard to do anything but be just that—a slut.

His slut.

Something is brewing deep down, in the lower pits of your heaving stomach. That initial discomfort that bleeds into an urgent feeling that feels like oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

You’re thrashing now, as best as you can, head tossing left and right. The heels of your feet kick at his ribs but he still doesn’t slow down. Panicked, you push at his chest, his belly, anything.

“Don’t fuckin’ run,” Jey snarls, fingers flexing at your throat, digging into your guts. “Lemme stroke this pussy the way I want.”

But he doesn’t understand. “Jey, s-slow down—I gotta pee.”

These sheets are nice and soft, an expensive cotton—probably Egyptian—and you’d really hate to ruin them.

But, of course, Jey couldn’t care less about the sheets. He leans down right above your face, warm breath mixing with your puffy gasps. “You not gettin’ outta this, baby. Ion give a fuck if you piss, just as long as you come on this dick some mo’.”

That vulgarity paired with the way he shifts into you, ramming into a very delicious spot, is more than enough to have your back arching painfully beneath his big body, a wild screech climbing its way out of your lungs, nails digging deep in his wrist and the poor sheets you’re about to destroy.

“Wet that shit up, mama. Right now,” he barks roughly, his voice the trigger on making your pussy gush around him, spraying onto his lower belly and even reaching up to his chest the more he keeps fucking you. “That’s right…”

Mercy is granted once the last weak pulses die down. Jey carefully slides out of you, him wincing and you whimpering at the loss. The whimpers tumble into low sobs and shakes. Curling up on your side, he’s quick to follow, shushing you and pushing hair out of your face all the while.

“Baby, you okay? Did I go too hard?” His warmth envelops your body, the mass of him curling around you, his eyes scanning your damp face. “Please, say something.”

You remain quiet for another few seconds, blinking yourself back into reality. “I’m good,” you finally say after some time, moments full of his soothing caresses and slightly anxious gazing. “That was good.”

Jey studies your features a little longer, and when he is convinced that you’re not lying for his sake, he’s careful in nudging your bodies over and out of the wet spot. “Yeah, you right—it was good,” he agrees, in between your legs again with a thumb brushing over the line of your smooth jaw. “Squirted all over me like a good girl. Shit so sexy.”

You let out a bashful laugh, eyes sliding over to some random unfocused point in the room. “Made me do it harder than my toys.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” When you look back over, he’s grinning eagerly, making you snort a little with a roll of your eyes. “I knew I had it like that but damn.”

Jey laughs when you push at his shoulder, dropping a tender kiss to your collarbone. “Whatever, Joshua.”

Now, this is what you’re used to. Pure comfort with your best friend. Not whatever messy bullshit you two were doing earlier.

Gazing up at him, those big brown eyes, his beautiful wide nose that you trail a fingertip down, you register he is still very much hard between your thighs. “You know what would really be the last and final step to making me yours?” you muse softly, making his brows rise in question. “Coming inside me.”

The softness of the moment bleeds into that earlier heat. Jey’s eyes darken and he inhales deep, as if to steady himself. You are still awed by the effect you have on him, how you haven’t seen it all this time.

Shaking his head but smiling all the same, he tells you, “you got a wild mouth, girl,” and starts rubbing along your thigh, your ass.

You smile back, raking a hand through his sweat-damp, frizzy curls—there’s no telling what your blowout looks like right now. “I dunno know ‘bout all that…”

“Uh-huh, and what do you know?”

“That I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

How can Jey refuse that sweet wish?

When he slides back in it’s with you folded in half, ankles by your ears and him breathing deep into your parted mouth. The moan that breaks out of you both is one of shared satisfaction.

Your eyes never break away from his, even as the first long strokes turn into something harder and a little reckless. Desperate and maybe a little unhinged, driven by the need to claim you. His eyes dance with the challenge. Like he can’t help it.

It punches the air out of your lungs. Already so good again, already so… “…deep. You’re so deep in me—oh my god!”

Jey groans above the sounds of wet pussy squelching filthily in the air. “Take my dick so good, baby. Only like you can.” The praise has you dripping down his balls. “Tight as hell, too—what you got all this good pussy for, hm?”

The answering cry is instinctual, automatic. You don’t even have to think about it. Your body knows. “For you! It’s f-for you!”

Still staring deep into your eyes, Jey nods approvingly, cockily, “Yeah, that’s right. Grippin’ me like you own me. This your dick? Tell me.”

With every eye-rolling thrust, you have no choice but to chant, “yes, yes, yes.”

Jey is grinning but you can barely see it, eyes blurred by mind-numbing pleasure. He takes it in the way your legs start to shake on his shoulders, the desperate way you claw at his skin and the whites of your eyes proudly. He’s doing this to you, and no one else.

Seeing you so fucked out has him silding a hand underneath your neck, scooping you up to urge your plush lips back to his for a downright nasty kiss that you both moan loudly into. The kind that makes your brain all floaty and your body numb. When he breaks away, you start to whine, blindly pawing at him. You’re already the closest you can physically be to him, and still it’s not enough.

If he wasn’t so hellbent on proving to you why he’s the only one you need, Jey would’ve been come. But he is—there’s no way y’all are leaving this the same way before. He’s going to make sure of that.

“That shit feel good, don’t it? I know you wanna come again, leaking all over me and shit.”

The mention of another orgasm has you slightly panicking—you didn’t think you could come again—because once he says it, you start to feel that impending rush, deep in your belly. Your soul.

Snapping back into clarity, you look up at Jey beeseechingly, hair wild with the way you shake your head. “No, I can’t, Jey.”

“Then why you gettin’ tighter?” He asks in a mocking tone that does indeed have you clenching and pulsing like your life depends on it. “Why you been creamin’ on Daddy’s dick?”

You try to protest again but any defiance is snatched out of you by the feel of his big hands coming up to grip your thighs as his thrusts become even more intense, hitting that sweet spot that has your chest damn near caving in.

Jey can sense your disbelief and panic, dropping his forehead down to yours. How can he look so sweet while beating your pussy up? While snaking a hand down to touch and circle your clit with deadly precision?

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t gotta fight it. Show me how good I make you feel. One more time, so Daddy can nut in his pussy. One more time, so I can make you mine.”

That last sentence has it ripping through you. Stars burst behind your eyelids. You actually think you can see heaven. Overstimulated isn’t even the word. You’re on the fucking moon.

“Aw, shit, bae—squirting all over me again.”

And you didn’t even know that. Too busy caught up in the earth-shattering waves of your orgasm to catch Jey craning his neck down for a better view of your gushing pussy, how his eyes roll back up into his head as he drills into you.

“Tell me you love me.” It’s not just a command but it’s a need. One that tethers you back to Earth, to him.

Slightly taken aback, your gaze sharpens to see his laser-focused on you. Waiting. Pleading, almost. As if you could love anyone else. He’s entirely ruined you in the best way.

He did all this to you, and still doesn’t know it?

Overcome, you slide your hands into his hair, softly scratching at his scalp. He moans at the sensation. “I love you, Jey. I do, so much. Only you, I swear.”

Your confession of long felt feelings has him groaning loud, teeth gritting. “Fuck—I gotta come.”

It makes the taste of your pleasure even sweeter, feeling him shake over you, his muttered curses rumbling in your ear as he holds you close. The heat of his body bleeding into yours. At this point, your bodies were one and nothing could feel better.

“Please come, Daddy,” you mewl up at him, exhaustion creeping in on you under all the pleasure-pain. “Come inside me, I need to feel it.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

It’s not long before he does as you ask of him, sitting deep to shoot thick rope after thick rope of his warm cum into your willing body. The feeling so good and dizzying that it has you giggling, eyes pooling with unshed tears.

Even through the ebbs of his pleasure, Jey cracks an eye open to check on you. However crazy you look, it makes him smile.

When the last ebbs of his orgasm fade, and it’s just you and him slowly careening back to the present, Jey rears up to hover above, watching you still giggle.

And, of course, because he always has to play.

“Damn, my dick was that trash?”

He joins in your laughter when you playfully slap him upside the head, eyes bright and beautiful. “If you call four orgasms trash, then sure, yeah,” you snort, pushing him off of you once he pulls out.

Without a lick of shame, you get up and traverse the span of the floor all the way to the bathroom, not a stitch of fabric on you. However, before you get there, Jey is calling your name, making you look over your shoulder.

He looks so good there, just as nude, just as shameless. Head propped up on his elbow as he watches you. Teeth gleaming with a grin that screams, just got laid. “By the way? I love you, too.”

And when your eyes soften a certain way, just for him, under the lights…Jey has to wonder to himself why he was even jealous at all.

the first thing she thought was that she won, and that she was too spiked up on adrenaline to really process exactly what just happened.

her holding a championship belt—a world championship belt, she should have added—was one of the more surreal things for her that weekend. as attention-grabbing as it was for her, she could barely remember all of the events that transpired after. she could recall posing for the photos with the championship for social media and the website, but she couldn’t remember explicitly doing it; she recalled her mouth moving as she answered the questions in the post-show, but she didn’t think that she actually did that. the words sounded like hers, but she didn’t think it was her mouth that was moving.

wrestlemania weekend, no matter how exhilarating it was, always tended to leave her overstimulated in the bad way. she couldn’t keep track of how everything was going, even if she was certain that she was the one performing the motions. she remembered being in the audience for the second night, flexing the championship belt on her shoulder and smiling with that high fashion beam. the moment the camera pivoted to other things, she allowed that ironed grin to falter just enough, even if she couldn’t completely shut it down. she did her job well. after all, so much of wrestling to her was performing, and at the very least, she could perform attentiveness and wonder. her mind continued its cocooning while she allowed herself to continue watching the main event, even as she gasped on cue when the announce desk broke or at the false pin.

in some twisted way, she could feel herself grounding back reality as they watched the match. roman was the person she could easily track, because she was absolutely abysmal at avoiding his gaze. he was magnetic in the way that only somebody who was the main event of wrestlemania for the 11th consecutive time could be. he felt larger in life, elusive, and rightfully so. they hadn’t spoken, but she knew that her admiration of him wasn’t a well-concealed secret among the roster. she was only fortunate that nobody ever made it clear to him. not that that mattered, since roman was part-time anyways. she was certain he wasn’t even aware of her existence. that was fine with her—at least then, she wouldn’t be able to embarrass herself in front of him.

she did come to the realization that the match was veering towards the end sooner than she would have wanted it to. apparently, a thirty-minute match would not help her get back into herself; she considered that a bit foolish of her. she found security escorting her to gorilla again for more press photos now that they had all of their crowned champions for the weekend. she shook hands with everyone, smiled graciously, and posed. the only thing she hadn’t anticipated was pr telling her to stand next to roman for the photo of the new champions for monday night raw.

at first, she made an attempt to stand a respectable distance from him, enough to portray as close. “get closer,” she heard someone say. her eyes, wide and dazed, wasn’t sure if she caught that correctly. before she could react, though, his hand (an admittedly large hand she definitely hadn’t fantasized about several times in an attempt to get off after watching his title matches), tugged her by the waist, placing her right by his side. both of them raised their belts high, staring down the camera with precision and no shortage of cockiness. at least, she attempted to emulate that.

the first thing she registered was that he smelled good, even through all the sweat and exhaustion. she deciphered notes of sandalwood and something that was distinctly roman reigns. the other thing she could process was how warm he was compared to her cold skin. “overwhelming, isn’t it?” he murmured through the static of her mind and the shutter of the camera.

her answer didn’t feel as automatic as perhaps it should have been, her voice foreign to her own ears when she responded, “how do you ever get used to it?”

even when all of the press shoots were done, he kept his hand on her waist, helping the two of them make their way to the dressing rooms. he answered as they walked, “you just do. take the loud with the quiet—it gets easier over time.”

she didn’t know if she could believe him. the entire weekend wasn’t even really loud anymore, now veering into overload as he dropped her off at her room, which granted barely enough privacy to take a moment to breathe before more celebrations began.

she knew that a few glasses of champagne slid down her throat a few times throughout the evening, but not enough to warrant being any way incapacitated through alcohol. she knew that she shook her head and said something about excitement and gratitude for being given the opportunity. she knew that she was smiling. yet, she couldn’t really register that the alcohol was going down her throat, that it was her head moving, that it was her muscles contorting into that beam, that it was her feet guiding her towards the corner. she wasn’t sure if she could properly breathe, even though she rationally understood that her body was able to breathe on its own, and could handle it just fine.

“you look like you’re five seconds from tapping out to an anaconda vice,” a voice dryly remarked. naturally, she turned her head up towards the direction of the voice’s owner. she most likely couldn’t keep the shock off her face when her brain finally managed to process (however slowly) the present visual and auditory stimuli that roman reigns was addressing her. but, this time, of his own volition.

she technically felt more than properly realized that his expression shifted from amiability towards concern—more specifically, that it was her fault. her breath hitched, pondering if she did anything wrong. did she not answer fast enough? did her smile seem too off? or worse: did she make it too obvious she was into him? the hypotheticals had her lungs struggling for air. not that she could entirely register it, because one moment, she was in the corner of the room with the otc, and the next moment, he had his hand on her waist, escorting them both out to the elevator.

“let’s get you some air,” he murmured, keeping his voice that unwavering baritone as he closed the elevator door, forcibly shutting the door before anyone else could enter and overwhelm her further. once the doors closed, he cautiously pulled her in, strong arms caging her into him. his voice broke through the fog, “it’s alright. deep breath in for me, yeah?”

her lungs followed, matching his pace as the elevator rode all the way down to the resort’s car garage. every instance the elevator door opened and stopped at a floor, roman immediately pressed it shut, ensuring total privacy and external insulation for her with every shiver she gave. each descending floor granted her another breath to return to herself.

by the time the elevator reached the intended destination, she felt mostly back. she regained enough clarity to realize that she was in a parking garage, following roman reigns to his car, an admittedly nice one. her steps began trailing behind his, hesitant while he guided her to the passenger seat, opening it for her to slip into. the moment he shut the door and joined her in the driver’s seat, she closed her eyes, shuddering an exhale so large, as if she was atlas and the belt was the entire planet on her shoulder.

“fuck,” she whispered, “i’m sorry you had to leave the party ‘cause of me.”

he extended his hand, leaving his palm up for her to take if she wished. she took it, allowing his hand to dwarf hers. “don’t apologize,” he said, unrepentant about affixing that heavy gaze on her erratically panting chest, “first one’s always the one that hits the hardest.”

“didn’t want to take you from the party though,” she murmured in apology, shuffling awkwardly in her seat to evade enough of the heat of his eyes. “you deserve to celebrate.”

“got my celebration right here, babygirl.” his free hand brushed her cheek, gently tugging her face up. she couldn’t avoid the sensation of heat on her face. her eyes frantically flitted anywhere but him, though he seemed to know what she was attempting to do in the first place, because he leaned in enough to rest his forehead against hers. roman’s tone took on a more impish foundation as he mused, “you’re cute when you’re trying to be subtle.”

“i’m sorry,” she squeaked out again, “it’s unprofessional, and i know it’s probably creepy for a twenty-something to be having a crush on you. i promise i’m not a stalker or anything like that.”

roman tilted his head forward enough to rub his nose against hers, lips curled into an amused smile. “now, who said anything about stalking?” her eyes bolted wide open to that, pulling away to make some sense of his mirthful eyes.

“i mean, it’s weird, ain’t it?” she mumbled, “you’re like…a superstar. i didn’t wanna make it weird for you ‘cause you’re not always here. i didn’t wanna make it unpleasant or uncomfortable for you every time you came back.”

roman chuckled, breath fanning against her lips and retorting, “trust me, angel, i wasn’t ever uncomfortable with you staring at me.” he didn’t have to say much else then, his insistence enough for her to brush her lips against his for a tentative peck. roman deepened it, shifting his hands to tug her closer past the console.

“fuck,” she moaned against his lips, fingers brushing his beard firmly. she leaned further over the console, shifting herself on the passenger seat to rest more of her upper body against his.

he groaned, amused still, yet more fond as they continued to make out, “sweet thing, aren’t you? all soft and needy from some kissing?” her cheeks flared, though she didn’t deny it when she kissed him again, squeaking when he forcibly maneuvered over the console functioning as a barrier.

her mind blanked out from being shifted however awkwardly from the passenger seat to be on roman’s lap—at least she figured this time it was from something pleasant rather than dissociation. she squeaked as he pressed her form up against his, allowing him to take all of her weight while she straddled his hips. “fuck, you’re adorable,” he cooed against her lips.

“thank you, sir,” she responded, voice growing shriller as she realized what she just said and what she just called him. for all of her troubles, she earned a deep-bellied rumble that let her know that she probably didn’t have to stop calling him that. if anything, he was turned on, if the growing bulge pressing into her clothed heat was any indication.

“call me that again, babygirl,” he growled against her mouth, the same way he did when he demanded acknowledgement.

“yes, sir,” she repeated, earning a heavy spank on her ass, “fuck!”

roman swallowed her sounds with a guttural groan, pressing her closer. his other hand came to cup her sex through her panties, shifting the skirt of her dress up to give him better access. naturally, she ground down on it, rocking back and forth against the weight and heat of his palm. “such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he breathed into her ear, allowing her to move her own hand down to fully grasp just how hard he was at the sight of her. she nodded, skin gently flushed from want and his attention.

tentatively, she palmed him, applying just enough pressure to not seem shy, but not being overzealous and presumptuous about how much pressure he would maybe like or want. roman responded beautifully to her touch, groaning especially husky when her finger rubbed the tip of his length, swirling the budding beads of precum around. his own hand shifted so that he could slip right through her panties; her own arousal coated his fingers in an unabashed, honeyed gloss. “sorry,” she mumbled, though she only sounded semi-repentant.

roman smirked against her skin, wetly smacking her pussy; she could only squeeze his dick harder for that. “cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he mused mirthfully, spanking her again, “but, i can’t blame you, can i? that’s how you got that championship.”

there was a part of her that lit up embarrassingly at the mere prospect that roman reigns watched her championship match, however short it was. when she mustered more courage to look up and gauge his reaction, she could only see pride reflected in his gaze, but also an awareness that he knew she wasn’t expecting it. “of course i watched, baby,” he chided fondly, kissing her forehead and then her pout away, “wanted to see you win your first world championship—the first of many. now, up you get, ‘cause i want you sitting on my cock.”

sue her. she was eager, exuberantly eager while she shifted her hips, allowing him to remove her panties. her own fingers worked to quickly undo his pants, pushing them and his undergarments far down enough to unsheath his length. she adjusted so that his tip brushed her slit, whining pleasurably every time the mushroomed head brushed her sensitive clit. “shit,” she whispered, overstimulated, “how are you gonna fit, you’re so fucking big?”

“don’t worry, baby.” his voice was cocksure, self-assured the only way a multi-time world champion and someone completely aware of his looks and its effect on other people. he nearly knocked the breath from her lungs with his cocky smirk as he promised, “i’ll make it fit.”

in one fluid motion, he effortlessly transitioned to slipping the tip inside her gummy walls, engendering a broken moan past her lips, arguably loud enough to shatter his eardrum. roman didn’t seem to care as he gripped her hips firmly, gravity taking over to have her impaling herself onto his dick. “holy fuck,” she gasped. her lips furled into a needy pout, one roman indulged with a searing kiss to her lips, enough of a distraction for the overwhelm that was just him filling her. she shivered and pulsed when she realized that he wasn’t even entirely in yet. that caused roman to groan, an animalistic sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“such a good girl,” he growled into her mouth. his tongue swiped the roof of her mouth, absorbing her squirming and pants with relish. roman’s other hand wandered down to rub tight circles at her needy clit. naturally, her walls spasmed; naturally, he reacted accordingly by spanking her with his heavy hand. it resonated within the metal confines of the car, and her own noises immediately followed suit.

“sir, please,” her voice was wrecked, as it only could be, but still, there was a dreaminess that roman found endearing as he set the pace for her—slow, but thorough. insistent, though not forceful. he only lifted her off half of his length, keeping her full at all times. roman kept his lips on her, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. his hand continued their marking endeavors, heating her ass in rhythm with his hips.

he sounded smug as he wondered, “yeah, baby? ‘please’ what?”

her breath faltered, fingers curling to undo the neatly tied bun of his mane, raking her nails through his illustrious mane. she didn’t yank. he seemed to appreciate that she only tugged with minimal pressure. he smiled against her lips, rewarding her with a steeper bounce, pulling out so only his tip remained before impaling her again and again. any time she attempted to formulate a comprehensible word, he swallowed it with a heady kiss and smack to her asscheek, which made her forget what she wanted to say in the first place.

not that she had much he could parse to begin with other than saying “please” and “sir” like they were the only two words remaining in her lexicon. even then, she wasn’t able to even manage a syllable that simple. that was how he seemed to prefer it based on the thorough thrusts of his hips against hers.

he groaned in her mouth just right when she tugged his tresses again, twice in quick succession and one longer tug. she wasn’t sure if she could explain to him if she was close with how he kept subsuming her mewls and starts of words into his groans and grunts. at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could call what they were doing really kissing so much as a mashing of tongue and teeth. she figured he could tell she was reaching the edge to her climax through the fervent way her walls pulsed around him like a butterfly struggling to escape its cocoon.

“close, aren’t you, babygirl?” he chuckled, her nods rapid and messy. she gripped his hair firmer, more demanding now that she teetered on that edge of release.

she begged, eyes welling with unshed tears from overstimulation, “p-please, sir! wanna cum!” her lungs gasped for oxygen when he delivered on her request, transitioning into thrusting more calculatedly, angling right up at the spot that had her seeing stars.

“right there, baby?” he murmured, repeating that particular thrust. her frame vibrated atop his lap as her climax washed over in unceremonious, reckless fashion. she wailed, throat ripping itself out from the weight of her scream. roman didn’t take that much more to follow after her, spilling those pearlescent ribbons deep inside her cunt with a deep roar briefly reminiscent of the ones preluding his spear. “fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he praised heavily, “sweetest fucking pussy for me.”

he continued thrusting through the aftershocks, arms firmly locked around her while she vibrated in his arms. “i got you, honey,” roman promised, kissing the side of her head while he tempered his pistoning down. he kept her on his lap, letting her tug on his hair enough to anchor her to this plane of existence. her breath fanned against his lips as she stole a kiss from him. he didn’t say much other than repeating his promise, forcing her lungs to follow his cadence until she could do it on her own.

when she did recover, she whispered, “sir,” her voice cracked at the edges from practically screaming herself hoarse.

“you did so good for me, baby. i’m so proud of you.” he punctuated his praise with a kiss to her hairline, not minding the sweat pearling there from exertion. from how he looked at her, how he sounded, she knew he meant it. she smiled, the first one she could feel from the past two days—she knew his pride went beyond her performance on his lap and extended to the two belts stacked atop one another in the backseat.

“thank you,” she responded with a shy heat to her cheeks. her hand moved away from his hair, resting on his heart while her fingers twirled some strands of his hair. roman smiled, one of the softer ones he reserved for his family, mainly. she flushed at the honor of being one of its recipients.

she gasped when he shifted just enough to start the car, accidentally shifting her hips to roll just right against his own. he groaned, sending her a raised eyebrow and barely contained mirth in his eyes. she shrugged, semi-apologetic. roman merely adjusted her positioning so they were both more comfortable as he started reversing out of the parking space and out into the vibrant vegas streets.

“you’re crazy,” she murmured, breathless as she glimpsed outside the window, allowing the oversaturated nightlife to consume her vision while he drove them both back to the hotel.

“yeah, well,” roman responded with the assurance of a champion, of being her champion, “i’m the tribal chief.” he said it like it was simple.

maybe it was to him. her thoughts, naturally, swirled around to the aftermath and to what monday would bring. New challengers, new threats, the inevitable paranoia—she wasn’t sure where she would stand as the weight of the belt grew more prominent on her shoulder, the responsibility chipping at the wide-eyed woman who only ever dreamt of carrying something as prestigious as the women's world championship. as if that wasn’t enough, her mind fabricated worst-case hypotheticals about their nebulous relationship given her feelings and how roman reciprocated, apparently. she wouldn’t be able to look at him without thinking of the mindblowing and grounding sex they had after wrestlemania. She didn’t factor that he would be there more frequently now, either. She could easily visualize the inevitable wetness growing at every instance. To make matters worse, she wasn’t sure what he wanted beyond just the celebratory sex, on the minuscule chance he would change his mind. or—worse—if he only did it out of pity.

before she could fret herself into the next century, roman cut her spiral short with a firm remark, eyes focused on the road, “don’t worry about tomorrow, baby.” at the red light, he tilted her chin towards him with a thumb and index finger. “just focus on me, alright? i got you. i promise. i’m not going anywhere.”

it suddenly struck her that he perhaps meant it beyond just trying to tether her back into her own body at this point, even if that intention still stood. her eyes peered up at his features as he returned to focusing on the road, applying gradual acceleration on the pedal as the car continued along the route. she parsed the relaxation in his posture, paired with the understated confidence that things would work out in their favor. her eyes flitted back to the two belts, resting like a perfect match, a picturesque display of harmony.

shifting just a little more, she rested her head along his heart, listening to his heartbeat while her own rammed at full throttle in anticipation of what the future brought her. starting with, naturally, the growing hardness still inside her.

You moaned, loud and broken, legs locked tight around his waist as he fucked you deep and mean. His mouth was right at your ear, voice low and cruel. Hot breath against the shell of it.

“Listen to that sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”

He was growling. Hips snapping hard enough to make the bed creak underneath you. 

“You creamin’ all over my dick. You really needed this, huh? Just spread them legs and took it.”

You moaned louder, nails digging into his back as your walls clenched around him. He just felt so thick. So hot. Stretching you open with every rough stroke. 

Every thrust making a loud, rhythmic plap. The heavy, fleshy collision of his hips meeting yours. The slick friction echoing sharp and constant in the room.

It was all so much— your thighs shook beneath him, arousal coating his length and dripping steadily down to soak the sheets. Every time he bottomed out, you could feel it deep in your stomach.

“Jey— fuck!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he rasped, teeth scraping your ear hard enough to sting. “You better say my name. Ain’t nobody else fuckin’ your shit up this good.”

His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, chest slick with sweat. Sliding heavy against yours. You could feel every inch of him. The thick stretch, him grinding on your clit when he rolled his hips, the heat pouring off his skin like a furnace. Your pussy was fluttering and clenching helplessly around him.

You were so wet. Embarrassingly wet. The lewd squelch of it was louder than your own moans.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs higher up over his shoulder, so he could fuck you deeper. The new angle made you cry out. His voice dropped even lower, right against your ear, mean and filthy and relentless.

“Look at you— can’t even talk. Taking this dick so good you ain’t thinkin’… Mhm, all you know how to do is let me use you.”

You were burning up. Skin sticky with sweat. The heat between your bodies was almost unbearable. His perfect cock was dragging against your walls with every thrust, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

You were so close. So fucking close. Thighs shaking, pussy clenching tighter and tighter around him as you felt that hot pressure build low in your belly.

“J-Jey, please—”

He laughed low and dark against your ear, his hips snapping harder.

“Yeah? You gon’ cum for me like a good little whore? Do it.”

Everything tightened. The heat, the stretch, the drag of his cock, his voice growling filth right into your ear— until it snapped.

Your eyes flew open with a sharp, desperate gasp.

The bedroom was dark and quiet. The only light was a thin sliver from the cracked bathroom door. For one disorienting second you had no idea where you were.

The dream was still clinging to you, thick and heavy and far too real. Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to punch its way out of your chest. Your skin was on fire, actual fire. A deep, feverish heat radiating from the inside out.

Sweat had already cooled on your chest and the back of your neck, leaving your thin tank top plastered to you like a second, sticky layer. The sheets were twisted around your legs, clinging in damp patches to the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

You rolled onto your side, breathing fast and shallow, trying to calm down. But your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

Between your thighs, you were soaked. Truly, embarrassingly soaked. Your panties were drenched, the fabric cold and tacky where it sat clinging to your swollen folds. Your clit was throbbing so hard it almost hurt. Each pulse sending sharp little shocks of need straight up your spine.

Your pussy felt empty and aching. A deep, gnawing itch you just couldn’t scratch, clenching uselessly around nothing. That imaginary stretch and fullness from the dream was still there, echoing between your legs like a cruel joke. 

You could still feel the heavy drag of his cock, the way it split you open, the way it bottomed out so deep you could feel it in your stomach.

But there was nothing now.

No weight pinning you down. No hot breath in your ear growling filthy things. No thick stretch and pulse of him buried inside you.

Just sweat, the tacky cling of your skin, and the humiliating wetness soaking through your panties and leaking onto the sheets beneath you.

Oh my god.

The thought hit you like a slap. Your face burned hotter than the rest of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, mortified, thighs pressing together so tight that it only made the ache worse.

You could still hear his cruel voice telling you how sloppy you were, how greedy, how pathetic you were for needing him that bad.

That wasn’t him.

That wasn’t your Jey.

Your Jey was soft and patient and gentle. Even when he was in control. He didn’t talk to you like that. He never has.

And yet… some traitorous part of you had liked it. Liked the edge in his voice. Liked the way he used you. Liked feeling small and filthy and completely owned.

You pressed your face into the pillow. A tiny, frustrated whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

You turned your head just enough to look at him in the low light, and the sight of him made your chest tighten.

Jey was sprawled on his stomach, limbs thrown out everywhere, taking up more than half the bed like he always did. One arm was stretched toward you, the other bent awkwardly under the pillow. His long legs tangled in the sheets, one knee hiked up, the other kicked out toward the edge.

His cheek was smashed against the pillow, face turned completely to the side, lips parted just a little. A thin string of drool shone at the corner of his mouth, slowly stretching toward the fabric. His curls were a wild mess across his forehead and the pillow, and his chain had slipped slightly so the metal rested against the pillowcase instead of his collarbone.

He looked… messy. Human. A little ridiculous.

And he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your throat tightened.

How could I dream him like that? 

Mean and cruel and using you like you were nothing. 

This was your Jey. Soft and open and safe. Drooling on the pillow like a big kid, limbs everywhere. Breathing slow and steady like the world could end and he wouldn’t even notice.

This is the man you loved. The one who held you like you were his favorite thing in the whole world world. The one who never said a harsh word to you unless it was wrapped in so much love you couldn’t breathe.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, shame and affection crashing together so hard it almost hurt.

God, I love him. I love him exactly like this.

The thought twisted sharp and guilty in your stomach. How could your own mind twist him into something so mean? How could you want that version of him even for a second? 

But you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t even try to deny it.

Your skin was burning up from the inside out. Sweat beaded along your hairline again, trickling down your temple. Your thin tank top was now cold and damp against your breasts, sticking to your back.

Every shift of your hips made the ache worse. Every breath made the emptiness throb harder. It felt like a fire you couldn’t put out. The only thing that would make it stop was him— his hands, his mouth, his cock. Anything to fill the burning void.

You tried to ignore it. You really did.

You rolled onto your other side, pressing your thighs together as tight as you could, hoping the need would fade.

You could handle this. You could just breathe through it and go back to sleep.

He was sleeping so peacefully. He was a heavy sleeper. He deserved the rest. You didn’t want to wake him up just because your stupid brain had conjured some filthy version of him and left you wrecked and dripping like this.

But the ache only got worse.

It pulsed deeper. Hotter. More insistent. Your pussy clenched again, another rush of wetness soaking your panties until the fabric was completely useless. The burning was too deep. The emptiness hurt.

You bit down on your lip until it stung, trying to stay quiet, trying to be good, trying not to disturb him. You tried breathing slow through your nose, counting to ten, then twenty, then thirty.

You told yourself it would pass. You told yourself you didn’t need to bother him. You told yourself you were being ridiculous— it was just a dream, just your own twisted imagination, and you could handle it like a fucking adult.

But your body refused to listen.

The burning only spread, crawling under your skin, making your nipples harden against your thin top and your thighs quiver with the effort of keeping still. Another helpless roll of your hips made fresh slick leak out of you, soaking the sheets beneath your ass in a warm, humiliating patch.

The need was too strong. 

You needed him inside you. You needed him to stretch you open and fill you up and make the fire stop.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Your hand reached out before you could stop yourself, fingers brushing his shoulder. His skin was warm, solid, so familiar it made your chest ache even more.

“Jey…” you whispered, voice small and shaky, barely above a breath. “Baby…?”

He didn’t wake up right away. Of course he didn’t.

Instead he made a low, grumpy little grunt in the back of his throat, the sound coming out muffled against the pillow. His face scrunched up for a second, brows pulling together like the sound of your voice was annoying him in his sleep.

One of his long arms flopped heavily across your waist, pulling you closer on instinct, but he still didn’t open his eyes. His breathing stayed deep and even, lips parted, drool still shining at the corner of his mouth.

You felt another wave of guilt crash over you. He looked so peaceful, so soft, so completely unaware. And here you were, burning up and dripping because your brain had decided to turn him into some filthy, mean version of himself in a dream.

But no matter how much that deep, dark part of your brain might want him to be just that— he wasn’t. This was a big, sleepy, ridiculous man you were talking about. One who took up half the bed and drooled on the pillow like a giant toddler.

How could you wake him up just because you were aching like this?

But the throb between your legs only got stronger. Your pussy clenched again. Another rush of wetness soaking through your panties until you could feel it starting to drip down the inside of your thighs.

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and tried again, voice even smaller this time.

“Jey… baby, I’m sorry. I just— I don’t feel good.”

He made another sleepy grunt, this one deeper, almost a groan. His arm tightened around your waist for a second, pulling you closer, but his eyes stayed closed.

You bit your lip, mortified, but the ache wouldn’t let you stop. Your hand shook as you reached up and gently brushed your fingers through his curls, trying to wake him without being too pushy.

“Jey… please,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I really need you right now.”

He finally stirred a little more. A long, dramatic groan rumbled out of him as he shifted, face scrunching up like the idea of waking up was personally offensive.

One eye cracked open just a hair, hazy and unfocused, then the other. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of you in the dark, his voice thick and raspy with sleep.

“…Baby?” he mumbled, sounding half-confused, half-concerned. “Wha’s wrong? You okay?”

You felt your face burn even hotter. You couldn’t just say it. Not outright. Not when he looked like this.  Soft and sleepy and so completely your Jey.

“I… I had a dream,” you whispered, the words coming out shaky and embarrassed. “And I just— I woke up and I’m— I’m really hot. And I feel… I don’t know. I just, I need you. Please.”

He blinked again, slower this time, still trying to wake up fully. His brow furrowed as he studied your face, the flush on your cheeks, the way you were pressing your thighs together like you were trying to hold yourself together.

His hand slid up your side, warm and careful, palm resting on your stomach like he was trying to figure out what was going on.

“You burnin’ up,” he murmured, voice still rough and sleepy, but the concern was already there, soft and genuine. “Like, actually hot. You feelin’ sick, baby?”

You shook your head fast, ashamed, the words sticking in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him you woke up from a dream where he was so mean and using you and that it left you dripping and aching so bad you couldn’t even sleep.

“I’m not sick,” you whispered, voice barely there. “I just… I need you. I need you to, to fix it. Please, Jey.”

He was quiet for a second, still half-asleep, but you saw the exact moment it clicked. His eyes widened just a fraction, the sleepy haze clearing as understanding settled in.

His hand stilled on your stomach, thumb rubbing one slow, soothing circle like he was trying to calm you down even though he was the one still waking up.

“Oh,” he said softly, voice dropping low but warm, nothing cruel in it at all. “A dream, huh?”

You nodded, face flaming hot. You couldn’t say anything else. How could you possibly explain that you’d dreamed about him degrading you and using you like a toy, when the real him was lying here looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world?

He smiled then— small, sweet, and so completely him. The corner of his mouth lifting in that lazy, boyish way that always made your chest feel too full. No smirk. No edge. Just soft affection and a hint of sleepy concern.

He shifted closer without hesitation, wrapping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, pulling you flush against his chest so your face tucked into the warm curve of his neck.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered against your temple, pressing a gentle kiss there, then another to your hairline, then one more to the tip of your nose like he couldn’t help himself.

His voice was still rough from sleep, but it wrapped around you like a blanket. “I got you,” he repeated. “Let me take care of my girl.”

You melted into him instantly, the guilt and shame and desperate need all tangling together as his big, warm hand rubbed slow circles up and down your back.

He smelled like sleep and his cologne and home, and you felt so safe it almost hurt. This was your Jey. Not the dream version. Not the cruel one. Just this— soft and patient and so ready to give you whatever you needed, no questions asked.

He kissed your temple again, slow and lingering, then gently rolled you onto your back so you were lying beneath him. The sheets were pulled back just enough for him to see you clearly in the low light. He hovered over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other resting warm and steady on your waist.

Jey looked at you like he had all the time in the world.

His eyes moved over your face, down the flushed column of your throat, across the way your thin tank top clung to your breasts, damp with sweat. His thumb brushed slow circles over your hip bone, and when his gaze finally came back to yours, it was so soft it made your chest ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice still gravely but full of nothing but warmth. “Look at you… all pink and pretty for me. My girl.”

You made a soft, shaky sound, half-embarrassed, half-melting, and he smiled. He leaned down and started kissing you again, slow and gentle, starting at your temple and working his way lower. His mouth brushed your cheek, the corner of your jaw, then trailed down the side of your neck in a warm, unhurried path.

He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, soft at first, then a little firmer, sucking lightly until a small, dark mark bloomed under his lips. You let out a quiet, sweet little whimper, tilting your head to give him more room.

He nipped gently at the same spot, just enough to make you gasp, then immediately soothed it with a slow, warm stripe of his tongue, licking over the fresh mark. You could feel him smiling against your neck, the curve of his lips warm and happy.

He did it again. Another soft nip. Another slow lick. Another little love bite that he kissed and licked until it felt like he was worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured between kisses, voice low and tender. “Lettin’ me take care of you like this… so pretty when you all needy and soft for me.”

You made another soft, sweet sound, fingers threading into his curls as your back arched just a little under his mouth. He was so gentle. So careful. The complete opposite of the dream version you created.

He was slow and loving and so happy to spend all night kissing and marking and taking care of you. It was like nothing in the world mattered more than making you feel good.

Jey smiled again against your neck, pressing one more open-mouthed kiss right below your ear before he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and warm and full of that quiet adoration.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “I’m right here. I got you.”

His hands slid under the hem of your tank top without waiting for an answer, palms gliding slow and warm up your stomach, fingertips brushing the undersides of your breasts. He paused there, eyes locked on yours, voice soft and patient.

“This what you want?”

You nodded so fast your head spun, cheeks burning, desperate little whimpers already slipping out as you leaned into his touch. Jey’s eyes softened even more. He didn’t tease you. He just pushed the thin fabric higher, slow and careful, until your tits spilled free. Heavy, flushed, nipples already painfully hard and tight from how worked up you still were.

He let out a low, appreciative hum, eyes locked on your chest like he couldn’t look away.

“Arms up f’me,” he murmured, voice so gentle it made you chest pang.

You lifted them immediately, and he peeled the tank top the rest of the way off, tossing it somewhere off the side of the bed without even looking. The cool air hit your bare skin and you shivered, but Jey was already moving, leaning down and latching his mouth onto one of your nipples.

The wet heat of his tongue was immediate and perfect. He sucked slow and deep, lips sealed tight around the sensitive peak, tongue swirling in lazy circles that made your back arch off the mattress.

A soft, needy sound slipped out of you before you could stop it, your fingers threading back through his curls as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same slow, worshipful treatment.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration traveling straight down between your legs, and you felt him smile again. You whimpered, hips shifting restlessly beneath him. The ache between your thighs was only getting worse with every slow pull of his mouth.

But Jey took his time, switching back and forth between your breasts. He licked warm stripes over your nipples, nipping gently, then soothing each one with his tongue like he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

He lifted his head just enough to look at you, lips shiny, eyes dark and full of nothing but love.

“Still need more, baby?” he asked, voice tender, thumb brushing over one wet nipple. The touch sent sparks straight down between your legs, making your pussy clench hard around nothing. “Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

You nodded so fast your head spun, cheeks burning, the words catching in your throat. Inside your head it was a desperate frantic chant.

Dick, I need dick, I need your dick right now. Please, please, please make it stop hurting. I need you inside me so bad it hurts.

But all that came out was a shaky, embarrassed whisper.

“I just…I need you,” you breathed, voice cracking. “I need you, Jey. Please. Please make it go away. It hurts…I need you so bad.”

Jey’s eyes softened even more. He didn’t tease you. Didn’t make you say the filthy words your brain was screaming. He just nodded, already knowing exactly what you mean, and scooped you up under your arms with those big, strong hands.

In one smooth motion he flipped you both. He sat up against the headboard and pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him, facing him, your knees on either side of his hips. He held you close, one arm wrapped around your back, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

He pulled you in until your face was tucked against his neck, your chest pressed to his, and he just held you there for a moment. Stroking your hair slow and soothing while he kissed the side of your neck.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m gon’ take care of you,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You whimpered, hips shifting restlessly in his lap, the soaked front of your panties dragging against the hard line of his cock still trapped in his boxers. The friction was maddening. Not enough. Never enough. But it still made your clit throb harder, another rush of slick leaking out of you and soaking your panties even more.

Jey reached down between you without a word, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. Thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. It slapped warm and solid against your inner thigh, and the feeling of it made your pussy clench hard around nothing. A fresh wave of desperate need rolling through you so sharp it stole your breath.

He didn’t rush.

He slid your soaked panties to the side with two fingers, the cool air hitting your drenched folds for only a second before his fingertips were there instead. He felt how wet you were– how your pussy fluttered and pulsed at the lightest touch– and he let out a soft, soothing hum against your neck like he was proud of you for being such a mess for him.

Then he started rubbing slow circles over your clit with the pads of his fingers, gentle but firm. The perfect pressure made your hips jerk forward on instinct. You whined loud and broken against his neck, the sound cracking in the quiet room as your thighs trembled on either side of his lap.

Every slow stroke sent sparks shooting up your spine, but it still wasn’t enough. It only made the emptiness inside you ache worse, made you clench and leak even more, made you feel so empty you could cry.

Please, please, please, your mind chanted, the words too embarrassing to say out loud. I need you inside me. Need your cock. Need you to fill me up right now.

“Jey– please,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop it. “Please… it hurts. Please.”

Jey made a soft, soothing sound, still stroking your clit in those circles, his other hand still cradling the back of your head like you were something fragile.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your neck again, sucking a gentle mark there. “I know it hurts. I’m gon’ fix it. Gon’ give you what you need.”

He lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance, and you felt him smile against your neck again.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured. “I got you.”

Then he pushed inside you– slow, steady, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. The relief was instant and overwhelming.

You cried out, the sound cracking in the quiet room as your walls fluttered and clenched around every thick inch of him. He filled you so perfectly, so completely, pressing against that deep, aching spot that had been throbbing for what felt like forever.

The burning eased, the emptiness vanished. It was replaced by the heavy, delicious fullness that made your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut. You could feel every vein, every ridge, the way he throbbed inside you. Hot and solid and real.

Jey groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he held you close, arms wrapped tight around your back.

“There you go,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “You feel that? I’m right here.”

You whimpered, burying your face in ish neck, nails digging into his shoulders as your pussy fluttered around him again. You easily adjusted to the stretch, to the way he filled every empty inch of you.

The ache was still there, but now it felt good. Deep and warm and satisfied instead of painful. You rolled your hips once, experimentally, and then the drag of his cock against your walls made you moan again. It was softer this time, almost relieved.

Jey let out a quiet, happy hum, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other stayed splayed across your lower back, holding you flush against him.

“Doin’ so good,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck again, slow and sweet. “Takin’ me so well. My perfect girl.”

He didn’t move yet. Just stayed buried deep inside you. Letting you feel him. Letting you adjust. Letting you breathe through the overwhelming fullness. His thumb stroked gentle circles on your back. His lips brushed your skin in soft, lazy kisses, and you felt so safe, so full, so completely taken care of that the last bit of embarrassment melted away.

He slid an arm down to cup underneath your ass, big palm spreading wide and warm over the curve of it. He lifted you just enough to shift you higher in his lap, then slowly guided you back down onto his cock, bouncing you in a deep, unhurried rhythm that made your breath catch every time he bottomed out.

Jey didn’t let you do any of the work. He just held you there, strong muscles doing all the lifting. All the guiding. All the moving while you melted against him.

Your forehead pressed to him. Your noses brushed with every slow rise and fall of your body. His lips hovered so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. Every few seconds he’d lean in and give you the softest, barely there kiss. Just a gentle press. A light brush. A sweet little peck that made your chest flutter even as your pussy clenched around him.

“There you go, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watched your face. “Just let me take care of you.”

He lifted you again, slow and steady, then eased you back down until every thick inch was buried deep inside you again. The drag was perfect– slow enough to feel every ridge, every vein, every subtle throb of him stretching your walls.

You whimpered softly, the sound swallowed by another one of his gentle kisses, your forehead still resting against his. Noses brushing. Breaths mingling.

You were so full.

So perfectly full.

Every time he guided you down, the ache eased a little more. The burning turned into a deep, warm pleasure that spread through your whole body. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in just a little, but he didn’t mind. He just kept that same slow, controlled rhythm, lifting and lowering you like you weighed nothing. Like he could do this all night if that’s what you needed.

“You feel so good,” he whispered between soft kisses, lips brushing yours, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth again. “So warm and wet and tight ‘round me. My perfect girl.”

You made a soft, broken sound, forehead pressed tighter to his, noses still brushing as he bounced you gently on his cock. The closeness was overwhelming in the best way. His breath on your skin, his eyes so close you could see every fleck of color in them.

He kissed you again, barely there, just a sweet press of lips that made your heart stutter. Then another. And another. Slow and lazy and full of love while his hands kept guiding your hips, filling you over and over.

You were still burning, but now it felt like the fire was being soothed from the inside out, replaced by something warm and safe and so, so good.

He kept the same slow, steady pace for a while longer, pulling you up and down on his cock with those big, strong hands. Forehead pressed to yours. Noses brushing. But the need inside you kept building, the ache turning sharper, hotter, needier.

Your pussy fluttered tighter around him, walls clenching with every deep stroke, and you felt yourself getting closer, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

“Jey…” you whimpered against his mouth, voice shaky. “I’m– I’m getting close…”

He made a soft, encouraging sound, eyes still locked on yours, forehead still touching.

“Go ahead, baby,” he whispered. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

He picked up the pace then, bouncing you a little faster, a little harder, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting growing louder in the quiet room. His hands gripped your ass tighter, lifting you higher before pulling you back down onto his cock with more force, the head dragging perfectly against that spot inside you every single time.

You moaned, the sound breaking against his lips as your whole body started to lock up. Jey leaned in and bit your bottom lip gently, just enough to sting, then soothed it with a deep, slow kiss as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your pussy clenched hard around him, pulsing, the pleasure rolling through you in hot, overwhelming waves. You cried out into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs shaking on either side of his lap as you came hard, soaking his cock even more.

Jey groaned softly against your lips, staying buried deep inside you the whole time, holding you close while your body trembled and clenched around him. He kept kissing you through it. Deep, slow, loving kisses, noses still brushing– like he wanted to feel every second of it with you.

When the last aftershocks finally faded, he stayed right where he was, cock still buried deep inside you, arms wrapped tight around you as he held you against his chest.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

“You feel better?” he asked quietly, voice warm and a little raspy. “The burnin’ gone?”

You nodded against his neck, still catching your breath, body limp in his lap. “Yeah… it’s gone. Thank you.”

Jey smiled, the curve of his lips brushing your skin, and he pulled you even closer.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder. “Think I’ll just keep you here a little bit longer. If that’s okay with you.”

You let out a soft, content little sound, nuzzling into his neck, arms wrapped around him as you settled against his chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered, voice sleepy, eyes already drifting shut. “I’d like that.”

Jey let out a low, amused little chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. He kissed your forehead, slow and lingering, then pulled back just enough to look at you with that sleepy, playful glint in his eyes.

“Besides,” he added teasingly. “You owe me, little girl. Wakin’ me up in the middle of the night just for a good fuck… it’s a damn shame.”

Your eyes fluttered open for a second, cheeks burning hot as a shy, embarrassed smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d just said that. So casually. So playfully. But the way he said it, with that soft smirk and the gentle way he was still holding you, made warmth bloom in your chest instead of shame.

“You’re terrible,” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-blushing as you hid your face against his neck again.

Jey laughed quietly, the sound warm and fond, and pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

“Nah,” he whispered, lips brushing your hair. “You know you love me.”

Kept you right there, cradled close against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you, warm and full and perfect. His hand stroked slow, soothing lines up and down your back while your breathing grew softer, slower, heavier.

The last thing you felt before sleep pulled you under was the gentle press of his lips to your forehead again, and the quiet, steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

A tiny bit of drool slipped from the corner of your mouth onto his skin as you finally drifted off completely.

Jey just smiled, holding you tighter, perfectly content to stay exactly like this for as long as you needed.

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“girl, what’s wrong with you? why you actin’ like that?”

Jey had been asking you that over and over for the past few minutes, and you could tell he was starting to get annoyed with every vaguely dismissive answer you responded with, but you honestly didn’t care.

you had been annoyed him for a few days because he hadn’t been showing you much attention, so it felt nice giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“Jey, i said i’m good, so just drop it.” you huffed, suppressing an eye roll, as you crossed your arms and avoid Jey’s gaze, causing his eyebrows to furrow a little and his eyes to linger on you for a moment before he chuckled lowly.

“mhm… well, fix whatever’s wrong with you ‘cause we ‘bout to go see Jim and ‘nem and i ain’t got time for them to be askin’ me stupid questions.” Jey warned, raising one of his eyebrows, as he grabbed his keys from the coffee table and you immediately rolled your eyes the moment his back was turned, grabbing your purse off of the couch and moving to follow him out of the living room.

“…whatever.” you mumbled quietly, the word barely audible over the harmonizing sound of you and Jey’s footsteps, as Jey suddenly paused mid-step and you nearly crashed into his back at his abrupt action, your eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion while you watched him turn around to face you.

there’s no way in hell he heard that smart remark over the sound of heavy shoes against a hardwood floor.

“what i say?” a slight clench formed in Jey’s jaw as he stared down at you, a warning clear as day in his tone, and you slightly bit down on your bottom lip to suppress another eye roll, opting to look away from him instead and off to the side.

“okay, i heard you. i’ma fix it.” you mumbled, your words barely audible, as you noticed him shift closer to you in the corner of your eye and felt his hand grab your jaw to turn your head towards him, forcing you to meet his dark eyes.

“you gon’ do what?” Jey asked, slightly tilting your head to make you properly look up at him, as you reluctantly maintained eye contact with him and swallowed thickly, feeling your resolve weaken just from his intimidating gaze.

“…i’ma fix it.”

“nah, you ain’t. we both know you ain’t. it’s cool though, i’ma fix it for you.”

you didn’t know how long it’d been since Jey started fucking some sense into you — maybe 30 minutes, or maybe even 3 hours. you couldn’t tell, and quite frankly, you couldn’t think about anything else except the way his hips were driving into you.

he had you bent over the couch arm with one hand tightly holding your wrists behind your back and the other holding onto the front of your neck, his grip firm yet careful enough not to actually hurt you, as he fucked into you at a quick pace, his pelvis roughly smacking against your ass while his dick dug deeply inside you.

“you gon’ fix that fuckin’ attitude? huh?”

“y-yessss! yes— i’ma fix itttt! i’ma f-fix it!”

his grip on your neck slightly tightened before he let go of it and grabbed a handful of your hair instead, yanking your head back and causing your arch to deepen. the action send a shiver down your spine and you let out a helpless mewl as your restricted hands balled up into tight fists, unable to do anything but surrender to his punishing thrusts.

“f-fuck— i’m s-sorry, baby, i-i’m sorryyyy,” you cried out desperately, your eyebrows furrowing deeply, as a pathetic whine fell from your lips and your eyes rolled back, intense pleasure starting to overwhelm you and send you straight into an orgasm, “i-i’m sorry, i’ll f-fix it— i’ma fix it, i swearrrr! p-please, Jeeeey!”

“yeah? you sorry? huh?” Jey’s grip tightened on your hair and the feeling sent a jolt of pleasurable pain through you as he yanked you up and pulled you into his chest, his hand leaving your hair to wrap around your neck again, “say it again and i might let you cum.”

“i’m sorry!” you squealed loudly, your thighs beginning to quiver, as Jey’s hand abruptly let go of your wrists and slid around to the front of you, his fingers finding your clit with ease and rubbing it in quick circles, “p-pleaseeee, let me c-cum, baby, i-i’m sorryyy! i’m s-soooo sorry— ughhh, please, please, pleaseee—”

“cum, mama. gon’ ahead and wet this dick up. show me how bad you want it.” the moment those words left Jey’s mouth, it was like all hell broke loose inside of you.

your hands shot out and tightly gripped the couch arm for dear life as your thighs shook uncontrollably and your eyebrows furrowed deeply, your eyes rolling so far back that only the whites were visible. your head abruptly fell back against his shoulder and your body completely tensed and seized up in his grasp as a small scrunch formed in the bridge of your nose and you cried out at the top of your lungs, your voice wavering while your climax roughly shot through you.

Jey’s strokes slowed and he continued to fuck you through your orgasm as his fingers on your clit moved away and he gripped your hip instead, his grip loosening on your neck while he pressed soft kisses against your earlobe and the side of your face to calm your body down from reaching its incredibly intense peak.

“the next time you get an attitude with me, i want that shit fixed the moment you say you gon’ fix it. you got that, ma?”

By the time Raw had began airing, he was out cutting a promo, the fans just as wild as you. Except, something else was wild for him. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you watched him pace in the ring, his neck tattoo you craved to lick on full display.

When the bell rang, he immediately got the upper hand, dishing out punishment on his opponent. Punishment you craved for your pussy. Maybe it was your ovulation—whatever it was, it had you feeling like you’d die without his dick inside you.

Cody won the match and the referee held his arm up in victory. Your core throbbed in anticipation as he made his way to the back, his steps deliberate. As soon as the door to the room opened, you pounced on him, your lips all over his face and lips.

“Baby, what’s gotten into you? I’m all sweaty,” Cody muttered into your kisses.

“I don’t care, I need you. Sweat and all, let it drip all over me, I don’t care, just fuck me. Please,” you pleaded.

His eyes darkened at your words, he could practically smell you dripping for him. “So fucking desperate for me, I’ll give you what you want.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

Cody had you bent over a chair, his gear ripped off by you and his hard cock buried inside you. Your panties were ripped and he slammed into you from behind, his cock stretching you out. You hoped the distant cheering from the fans masked your loud moans as he absolutely ravished you.

“This is what you wanted? Huh? To get fucked like a slut?”

You nodded frantically, your pussy clenching tightly around his cock as he angled into you even deeper. If it wasn’t for his grip on your curls, you would’ve toppled over.

He slapped your ass and you cried out. “Y-yes sir! This is what I wanted.”

You knew he was smirking behind you and in your last act of boldness, you pushed back against him, fucking yourself on his cock.

“That’s a good girl. You should see how your pussy’s just creaming on my dick.”

His words sent a ripple through you and your body convulsed, an intense orgasm hitting you like a truck.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmured, but he wasn’t finished with you.

He lifted and carried you to the couch in the corner of the room. A cry left your lips as he sank into your pussy once again, immediately finding your sweet spot. You drooled as he hovered over you—Cody was a greek god, one you would be happy to worship every single day. The sweat made his muscles glisten and he wrapped a large hand around your neck, making your pussy twitch in excitement.

Your body jolted as he slammed into your pussy and his grip around your neck tightened. “You feel so fucking good. So tight, so wet, fucking perfect for me.

You held his dark gaze, wrapped your arms around his neck and grinding against him, meeting his thrusts. His sweat dripping all over you made you moan and you reached up, licking the tattoo on his neck.

“My dirty fucking girl,” he said, darkly.

One of his hands pressed against your abdomen, making you moan so loud, you knew anyone passing by would hear. “Feel how deep I am inside you? Only my cock can get that far. I fucking own you.”

“You own me,” you echoed, your nails now digging into his back.

“Cum on my cock, cum with me.”

With a loud cry, you squirted on his cock, soaking both him and the couch as he continued to pound into your aching pussy.

“Fucking hell, what a good girl just squirting for me like that.”

His orgasm followed immediately after and he pushed deep inside you, his cum filling your ovulating womb to the brim.

a high school graduation shot of jelani, beaming in her cap and gown, wrapped in the arms of a man who had to be her dad. tall, broad, full beard, he was fine as fuck. tattoos snaked across his arms, his dark eyes sparkling with pride that made your stomach do a slow flip. you wanted him to look at you like that, full of pride. “how—how old is your dad?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, your finger tracing the photo’s frame. “oh, forty,” jelani said, tossing her keys on the counter as she grabbed a soda from the fridge. “forty? he had you at…” you started, the mental math hitting you as she finished your thought. “seventeen, crazy right?” she laughed, oblivious to the way your mind was racing.

“mhm, real crazy,” you murmured, your gaze lingering on the photo. you’d always had a thing for older men—their confidence, their experience, the way they carried themselves like they’d already mastered the world. your grandma’s warnings about “worms” from messing with men twice your age echoed faintly, but forty wasn’t quite twice twenty-three, so maybe you were in the clear. the angel on your shoulder screamed that fucking your roommate’s dad was a line you shouldn’t cross, but the devil whispered back, jelani was just a roommate, just two girls sharing a space. you pushed the thought down, focusing on getting ready for the party, but the developing crush you had on her father was in the back of your mind. thank god you wouldn’t have to meet him in person.

the halloween party was cool, jelani’s friends gathered in a neighbor’s backyard under string lights, passing around a blunt and sipping spiked cider, the bonfire casting flickering shadows. you wore a simple cat costume—black lace dress, low neckline, cat ears perched on your head, just enough to blend in without screaming for attention. but halfway through the night, jelani pulled you aside, a sly grin on her face. “heyyy so, i think i’m gonna stay a while and hook up with kai,” she whispered, nodding toward a cute guy by the fire. “you can head back to the house, but don’t wait up. you can raid the fridge, chill, whatever. i’ll be back later.” you laughed, giving her a playful shove. girl code, you got it. she handed you the house keys, and you headed out, the night air cool against your skin, the walk back quiet except for the rustle of leaves and distant party laughter.

back at the house, the silence was warm, the soft glow from a single candle the kitchen island spilling faint light. you made yourself at home, taking a quick shower in jelani’s room, changing into spandex shorts and a cropped tee that read “daddy’s little monster” in bold, playful letters. you planned to curl up in the guest bed, watch a scary movie until you passed out or jelani came home to dish about her hookup with kai, whichever came first. but the weed from the party had your stomach growling, the munchies hitting hard. you padded to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

the kitchen was sleek, marble counters, a stainless steel fridge humming softly, you could probably fit your entire childhood home in the first two rooms. you rummaged through the fridge, finding a solitary slice of sweet potato pie, its crust flaky and dusted with cinnamon sugar. you were just licking a crumb off your finger when a low voice startled you, nearly making you drop the glass plate. “that’s my pie,” he said, and your scream was sharp, echoing through the quiet house as the dark figure stepped closer.

heart in your throat, you spun around, and there he was, all six-foot-something of him, looking like he’d walked straight out of that photo but better, older, realer. shirtless, his tattoos sprawled across his broad chest and arms, gray sweats slung low, showing a hint of v-line that made your mouth dry. his grin was lazy, eyes glinting with a warmth that felt dangerous. “sorry, i—jelani said it was cool,” you stammered, setting the pie down, your cheeks burning under his gaze, the words attributed to harley quinn screaming across your chest.

“i’m messin’ with you,” he chuckled, stepping closer, his bare feet silent on the hardwood, his presence filling the kitchen like he owned it. “you must be the roommate. she said you’d be here.” his eyes flicked over you, slow and deliberate, lingering on the crop top’s bold text, the hem of your spandex shorts barely covering your thighs. “jey,” he said, offering a hand, his grip warm, calloused, lingering just long enough to send a spark up your arm. “yeah, that’s me,” you said, voice softer than you meant, introducing yourself as his hand slipped away, leaving a trail of heat. “didn’t know you’d be home tonight.”

“got back early,” he said, leaning against the island, close enough that you caught his scent. he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, cracking it open, his throat bobbing as he took a sip, your eyes traitorously following the motion. “you have a beautiful home, mr. fatu, i love the decorations,” you said, meaning it. “call me jey,” he insisted, his laugh a low rumble that hit you right in the core. “and thanks. jelani’s always decoratin’ for somethin’.” he nodded at the ceramic jack-o’-lantern situated by the coffee maker, making it clear no other woman was behind the festiveness. “you into that spooky shit, huh?” his eyes locked on yours, the tension thick, like the air before a storm. he turned, as if to leave, his sweats shifting just enough to make your breath catch. “aight, enjoy my pie. have a good night.”

you should’ve let him go, said goodnight, and hightailed it back to the guest room. but the devil on your shoulder won, fueled by the weed and that liquid courage. “you always this generous to your daughter’s friends?” you teased, leaning against the kitchen island, the marble cool under your palms, your smirk daring him to stay. he paused, turning back, his grin widening, eyes darkening with a spark that made your pulse skip. “only the ones who walk around my house in short-ass shorts with they ass hangin’ out,” he said, his voice dropping low, hitting you like a warm wave, the age gap…his forty to your twenty-three, looming over you, making your skin tingle. he stepped closer instead of leaving, the space shrinking to a breath, his eyes flicking to your lips, then back to your eyes. “matter fact? gimme some,” he nodded at the pie, but the way he said it felt like he meant you, not the dessert. you broke off a piece of crust, holding it out, and he leaned in, taking it from your fingers with his mouth, his lips brushing your fingertips, the contact sending a jolt through you, settling low and hot in your belly.

“trouble,” you murmured, but you didn’t pull away, your body leaning toward him, the beautiful man who’d lived a whole life before you were born, now close enough to feel the heat of his breath. “that’s all you, lil’ monster,” he said, his voice a low growl, referencing your crop top, the words dripping with intent. he closed the gap, his lips hovering over yours, waiting for the green light. you nodded, barely a tilt, and he didn’t hesitate. his mouth claimed yours, slow and deep, his tongue leading yours with a confidence that screamed experience. his hand slid to your lower back, pulling you flush against him, the island’s edge digging into your hips as you melted into him, a soft whimper escaping as your cunt quivered from his proximity alone.

“you sure about this?” he murmured against your lips, his hand pausing at the hem of your crop top, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. “your daughter’s my roommate, not my best friend,” you whispered, the forbidden edge of fucking her dad making your core throb. “and i’m grown.” he chuckled, that deep rumble planting a seed of doubt in your tummy, you were grown, yet shaking like a leaf in the fall breeze. “oh, you grown?” he teased, his lips brushing yours, his hand testing the waters, waiting for your final say. “please…” your voice was steady, needy, and he grinned, that wicked, knowing smile that came with years of experience. he lifted you onto the kitchen island, the marble cold against your thighs as he pushed you further up. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your spandex shorts higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties as he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, the taste of raw desire lingering on his lips, mint and something darker, more primal. “fuck, you smell so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with hunger.

he tugged your crop top up, exposing your pillowy breasts, his eyes darkening as he took you in, mainly the cute little spiders at the end of the gold bars pierced through your nipples. “your daddy know you got these?” he inquired as he ran his fingertips over your decorated nubs, you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and shook your head innocently as you peered at him under your lashes. “i’m a good girl,” the text on your shirt, a cheeky prophecy that made his grin widen. “yeah, you fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, his lips finding your collarbone, sucking lightly, leaving faint red marks that bloomed like bruises on your skin. his fingers slipped beneath your panties, finding you sopping wet, a soft moan escaping as he teased you, slow and deliberate, circling your clit with a patience most guys your age never dreamed of. “damn, girl… this shit got you wet, huh?” he said, his voice low, teasing at the age gap fantasy you didn’t even know you had, now sprouting into a full-blown daddy kink you’d unpack in therapy later.

“you need a daddy? yo’ daddy don’t love you? pretty little slut,” he growled, his words sharp but playful, his fingers curling inside you, two thick digits stretching you, making your thighs tighten around his hand, suffocating it as your nails dug into his tattooed shoulders. “jey…” you bellowed, your walls clenching around his thick digits, soaking him in your essence. “mr. fatu…” he corrected, the callback to your earlier formality now twisted into something filthy, “mr. fatu… please,” you begged, your hips rocking into his hand, the forbidden thrill of his age, his relation to your friend, the idea of her walking in…all pushing you closer to the edge.

he tugged your panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, and freed himself, his cock heavy and hard against your thigh, thick and veined, making your mouth water. “please what?” he growled. “i wanna feel you… inside me,” you said, swallowing hard, your eyes locked on his as a dark smirk curled his lips. he spread your thighs wide, displaying you across the island like a feast, the marble cold against your ass, pie crumbs sticking to your skin. he tugged his sweats down, gripping his massive erection, stroking it against your swollen clit, teasing from your clenching slit to your throbbing bundle of nerves. “oh my god…” you writhed, the slow drag of his tip against you a torture you’d never known, guys your age didn’t have this much control. “this pussy so pretty… so fat… i know it’s warm as fuck,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his thumb circling your clit as he fed you his length inch by inch, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every ridge, every pulse.

you squealed halfway through, your walls clamping down like they wanted to push him out, his size overwhelming, a unfamiliar burn that had you gasping. he groaned at the tightness, smacking the inside of your thigh, the sting sharp and thrilling. “you a big girl, take this shit… all of it,” he ordered, his voice commanding. your moans were raw, desperate, you felt fully exposed, the kitchen feeling like an unsanctioned stage. “jey… fuck,” you gasped, your nails digging into his arms. you were overwhelmed. his experience, your youth, collided in a messy, illicit affair that made you clench tighter. your body trembling as he hit that spot again and again, his thumb still circling your pulsating pearl, he was relentless.

“gonna cum for me, lil’ monster?” he growled, his beard brushing your jaw as he leaned in, kissing you hard, swallowing your moans, the taste of pure carnality, pushing you closer. “yessssss…” you confirmed as your stomach twisted, your legs shook despite being on opposite ends of the surface top, they were in sync. in that moment you realized one thing, no one had ever made you cum. this was your first orgasm brought on by another human, and it was comparable only to your favorite part of your favorite song; the most satisfying feeling you’d ever felt. “cum for me, baby girl,” he demanded, his fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in tight circles, the combination of his brutal pace and the high stakes sending you over. you came hard, a broken cry spilling out, your walls clenching around him, a messy rush of fluids soaking him, dripping down your thighs onto the marble, the sight obscene as he groaned, his length growing and pulsating inside of you — his own release close.

he shifted you suddenly, pulling you off the island and spinning you around, bending you over the counter, your chest pressed against the marble as he took you from behind. he growled, his hands gripping your hips, lifting them just enough to angle himself deeper, his cock slamming into you from behind, the new position hitting spots that made your vision blur, your breasts bouncing against the counter. “fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice beaming with pride, his hand smacking your ass, the sting sending a jolt through you as he pounded harder, his tip kissing your cervix with every stroke, the sensation making your legs shake. his hips snapping forward to bury himself fully, hitting spots buried deep inside of you. your hands scrambled for purchase, knocking the plate closer to the edge as he pounded you out, brutal strokes that made your ass collide with his adonis belt, the wet slap of skin echoing in the kitchen. “you wanted some grown man dick, now you runnin’?” he taunted, catching you as you instinctively tried to crawl away from the overwhelming sensation, pulling you back onto his cock, impaling you deeper. “you not as grown as you thought, huh? lil’ fast-ass girl.”

“mr. fatu… oh god,” you whimpered, your voice breaking, the new angle intensifying every sensation, your body trembling as another wave built, the filthy squelching of your pussy following the force of his hips. he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his beard grazing your shoulder as he uttered lowly, “cream for me, daddy’s baby, let me feel it,” a second orgasm crashed through you, your cries louder, more desperate, your walls contracting around him, thick ivory cream coating him as you shuddered. jey’s breath hitched, his control tight but fraying, and with a low growl, he pulled out, his hand working his cock in quick, deliberate strokes. “i can’t do that,” he murmured more to himself than you, his voice riddled with restraint, and instead of finishing inside, he flipped you over once more, aiming for the text on your shirt, his release painting the fabric in hot, white streaks, dripping down your chest, a messy, intimate claim that felt as forbidden as the act itself.

“oh my god, oh my god!” you uttered in embarrassment, your voice a hushed, frantic whisper as the weight of what you’d just done crashed over you. guilt flickered in your chest, disbelief was evident, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret. “i cannot believe i just did that,” you muttered, your hands flying to your face, fingers trembling as you pressed them against your flushed cheeks.jey watched you spiral, his lips curling into an amused smirk, his lips folding into one another to keep from laughing. he tugged his sweats back up, adjusting them with a casual ease that somehow made him look even more untouchable, his tattoos shifting with the flex of his muscles. leaning down, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and grounding against your fevered skin. “you better go clean up,” he mumbled against your head, his voice low and teasing.

his gaze flicked down to the shattered pie plate at his feet, glass and pumpkin filling strewn across the hardwood like evidence of your chaos. “that was my favorite plate,” he said, his tone mock-serious but laced with a grin as he turned on his heel, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. he walked out of the kitchen with that effortless swagger, his footsteps fading down the hallway as if he hadn’t just flipped your entire world upside down. you slid off the countertop, your legs wobbling beneath you, nearly buckling as your bare feet hit the cold floor, the gritty pie crumbs sticking to your soles. you sidestepped the mess, heart still hammering, and scooped up your panties and spandex shorts from where they’d pooled at your ankles, clutching them to your chest like a lifeline. you scurried upstairs to the guest bathroom, letting the hot shower wash off all of your sins and indiscretions, even though you wanted to sleep in them, covered in him.

by the time you got out and back into the bedroom, jelani was laying on the bed — scaring the shit out of you, causing an identical scream from earlier. “yo! what the fuck is up with y’all and scaring people?” you exclaimed, placing your hand over your heart. “y’all? my dad here?” she asked, causing you to damn near jump out of your skin as you dropped your towel, you nodded. “uh, yeah. he scared me.” you replied curtly.

“of course he did, he’s unpredictable.” she commented, you laughed, hoping that she would leave the conversation and the topic of her father alone, but she had one more pressing question for you. “did you break a plate?” your throat tightened, your mind flashing to the moment the plate shattered, the sound drowned out by your cries and jey’s thrusts. “uh, yeah,” you stammered, forcing a laugh that sounded too high, your cheeks heating as you sat up, tugging the oversized tee over your knees. “i was drunk earlier, knocked it off the counter while grabbing a snack. was gonna clean it up after my shower, promise.” you shrugged, playing it off, your pulse hammering as you prayed she’d buy it.

jelani tilted her head, raising an eyebrow, but her grin widened, her focus already slipping back to her own night. “ooooh, that’s my dad’s pie plate,” she teased. “he’s gonna have your ass for that one, i’m not takin’ the blame.” she laughed, oblivious to the way your stomach flipped at the mention of him having your ass, shit, he’d already wore your pussy out. you stifled a giggle, the salaciousness of your sacred secret sparking under your skin. “anyway, kai’s brother was asking about you after you left,” she continued, sprawling back on the bed, her voice bubbling with excitement. “wanted to invite you to come back down next weekend. i think he’s got a little crush. soooo, you comin’?”

you nodded faster than you meant to, a grin spreading across your face as your mind raced — next weekend, another chance to see jey. “yeah, i’ll come back,” you said, your voice a touch too eager, but jelani didn’t notice, too caught up in her own high. she rambled on about kai, her laughter filling the room, completely unaware of the brand new affinity you carried like the sticky, marked crop top hidden in your bag.

“Please.” Seth’s puppy eyes were wide, his face practically crestfallen as he gazed up at you. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

You tightened your jaw in anger. “Didn’t mean to?” you repeated, your voice low. “Are you serious right now?” 

Seth shifted uncomfortably on his knees, his eyes flickering over to where Roman and Dean stood. You were quick to grab his beard, bringing his eyes back to you. 

“Don’t look at them,” you snapped. “Look at me.” 

Seth practically whined, his gaze up at you pleading. “Please,” he begged again. “I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

“Which part?” Your grip on Seth’s beard tightened and he hissed in pain. “Disobeying my orders or talking back to me?” 

“Both!” Seth’s hand instinctively reached up to clutch at your thigh, but he didn’t push you away. He knew better. “Please, it was a mistake. I’ll listen. I promise I will.” 

“Hm.” You made a noncommittal noise, finally releasing Seth’s beard to glance over at the other two Shield members. Roman stood anxiously off to the side, his eyes watching you carefully. He was usually the more obedient of the three, but you could see how his body was tense, no doubt resisting the urge to come forward and defend his brother. He was territorial like that. 

Dean, on the other hand, seemed amused by this new turn of events. He leaned against the wall and watched, his mouth quirked into a mischievous grin at the sight of his brother on his knees for you. He was probably just happy it wasn’t him for once. You’d had to punish Dean more times than you could count. 

Seth’s disobedience was a bit more surprising to you. While he was certainly the more vocal of the three when it came to questioning your orders backstage, he wouldn’t dare disobey you in the ring. If you point, he attacks. If you pull on the leash, he heels. Seth listens. 

Or at least, he normally does. Tonight, something had shifted. Your normally obedient boy had attacked CM Punk without any provocation. Sure, the idiot had been running his mouth and making threats, but that was every night. It wasn’t anything new. You couldn’t be sure why Seth had chosen now to directly disobey you and throw the first punch. It wasn’t like him. 

“You attacked him, Seth,” you murmured, your tone disappointed. “You attacked him after I told you to stay. Why?” 

Seth seemed distraught, his fingers curling in the fabric of your pants. “I…I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.” 

“Is that right?” 

Seth nodded. “He was threatening you! He said he was going to try to hurt you. I couldn’t let him get away with that.” 

You nodded in understanding, reaching up to comb your fingers through his bleached hair. “You wanted to protect me.” 

Seth nodded again, leaning up to press his cheek into your lap. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. I would never let him hurt you.” 

You sighed. While Roman was generally the most territorial, there was a reason all three of them were called the Hounds of Justice. They were like a dog with a bone. Once it was clear that you were in danger, they were quick to swoop in, no matter how hard you pulled on their leash. 

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “And I know you want to keep me safe.” 

“I do.” Seth’s eyelids fluttered as you continued to pet his hair. “I would do anything for you. You know that.” 

“But you can’t do it like this, baby,” you said, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Who’s in charge here?” 

Seth swallowed. “You.” 

“And who gives the orders?” 

“You. But–”

“Who makes the decisions, Seth? You or me?” 

Seth bowed his head. “You,” he whispered, the word barely audible. 

“That’s right.” Your grip on Seth’s hair tightened and Seth practically whined, his eyes watering at the sudden pain. “I run this shit. Not you. Not Dean. Not Roman. Me.” 

Your gaze hardened, sweeping over all three of them in challenge. “I give the orders and you follow them. I tell you to attack, you attack. I tell you to stay, you stay. I’m not sure what about that is so difficult to understand.” 

Seth let out another helpless sound, still clutching at your thigh as you kept that mean grip in his hair. 

“You can’t blame him for wanting to protect you, princess,” Dean chuckled, still leaning against the wall. “I was thinking of knocking the fucker’s lights out too.” 

“But you didn’t,” you replied, keeping your tone even. “And why is that?” 

Dean’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but his tone was deferential. “Because you told us not to.” 

“Hm. Interesting.” You gazed back down at Seth. “Even the lunatic is more obedient than you. That’s got to be a first.” 

“I’m sorry,” Seth pleaded, his eyes still watery. He was much easier to break than Dean. “Please, I won’t disobey again. I mean it. I’m really, truly sorry.” 

You considered his words, your eyes sliding over to Roman. As usual, he didn’t have much to say, though you could practically see the gears turning behind his pretty eyes, watching the interaction between you and Seth with unconcealed nervousness. 

“And what do you think?” you asked him, still holding Seth up by the hair. “Tell me, Roman. I want to know.” 

It took him a moment to respond, but you weren’t in a hurry. You knew he would find the answer when he was ready. 

“I know why Seth did it,” he finally rumbled, his lips pursed as he considered his next words. “I wanted to hurt him too. But listening to you is more important.” 

You grinned. “That’s a good answer,” you praised, your eyes drifting back down to Seth. “So let me make myself perfectly clear. You can share your ideas with me backstage, but when we’re in the ring, you follow my orders. You do as I command. And if you pull any more shit like that I’m going to start punishing you the way I punish Dean.” 

Seth paled and Dean couldn’t resist another chuckle, his face far too amused for your liking. 

You finally released Seth’s hair to watch him crumple pathetically on the floor. 

The room was quiet. Dean still watched, that amused look still in his eye, while Roman stood nearby, conflicted. 

“Is it done now?” Roman asked. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. You knew how much he hated seeing his brothers be punished. “Are you happy with Seth again?”

You smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed to gaze fondly at him. “I’m happy as long as Seth understands who’s in charge,” you replied, crooking a finger in Roman’s direction to urge him to your side. “But that’s something you’ve always understood, isn’t it?” 

Roman nodded, taking your hand and brushing his lips across your knuckles. His dark eyes were just as wide, just as puppyish as Seth’s, and you couldn’t help but giggle, tugging at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Take this off. Let me see you.”

Roman was quick to obey, shrugging off his clothes and leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your cheek, his hands warm on your skin. 

“So obedient,” you mused, still smiling at him. “It’s a gift to have such strong, pretty soldiers fall in line for me. Maybe someday you’ll have some of your own.”

Roman’s lips continued to press kisses along your neck, his massive form still looming over you. “I don’t need soldiers,” he murmured. “I have you.”

Your smile widened, reaching up to tangle your hands in Roman’s long hair. “Such a sweet boy,” you cooed, urging him to follow you up on the bed. “Such a good hound for me.”

You heard Dean chuckle, already moving to join you up on the bed. “You gonna get us collars or something?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? You want one?” 

Dean laughed, a boyish grin on his face as he allowed you to tug his shirt over his head. “I don’t think we need to take the Hounds of Justice thing that far, do we?”

Dean leaned down to press kisses of his own to the other side of your neck, now flanked on either side by your boys. 

But one was missing. 

“Seth,” you called, peeking around Roman’s hulking shoulders to find him. He was still sitting on the floor, watching the three of you with wide eyes. “Come here, sweetheart. I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Seth quickly scrambled up onto the bed, fighting for a place beside you as Roman and Dean took up most of the space on the bed. 

“My sweet boy,” you cooed, reaching out a hand to cradle Seth’s cheek. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“Yes!” Seth leaned down to press a kiss of his own to your cheek, his gaze at you almost desperate. “Yes, I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I know you will, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft. “I know you try so hard to make me happy.”

All three of them leaned down to press more kisses to your body. Their lips were warm, their hands all reaching up to touch you. You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Maybe I should get you collars,” you mused, reaching up to pet Dean’s hair just to watch those pretty blue eyes flutter. “After all, you are my Hounds of Justice, aren’t you?”

They each let out a small sound at your words, Roman in particular as he nuzzled behind your ear. 

“You always protect me,” you continued, pulling them all closer. “You always keep me safe. Guard dogs just for me, aren’t you?”

This time you reached out to scratch Seth’s beard, chuckling when he offered you a dopey, lovestruck grin. 

“You’ll always protect me, won’t you?” 

All three of them were quick to nod and you let out a pleased hum, leaning back further into the pillows. 

“You’ve been so good for me, Roman,” you whispered, petting his hair. “I want you inside me first.”

Roman’s smile was just as lovestruck as Seth’s, his gaze at you adoring. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You grinned. “That’s right. Whatever I want.”

You spread your legs and allowed Roman to sink into your wet, tight heat, pleased to see his dark eyes roll back in pleasure. You didn’t miss the jealous looks on Dean and Seth’s faces, but you weren’t worried. A little friendly competition wouldn’t hurt them. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so bratty I’d let you go first,” you murmured to Dean, tugging him close so he could press more kisses to your chest. 

“What? I didn’t even do anything.”

“No, but you were thinking about it.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love it.”

You did. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of saying it. Instead, you threw back your head and moaned as Roman began thrusting into you, his massive cock practically splitting you open. 

Another set of lips were quick to brush against yours and you realized that Seth was pressing himself closer to you, that lovesick expression still on his face. 

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, his long fingers tracing across your collarbone. “I can’t stop staring at you. You’re just so perfect.”

You smiled. “You’re so sweet. My handsome boy.” You reached up to cradle Seth’s jaw and he leaned into your touch, letting out a pleased sigh. 

“You got us all wrapped your little finger, don’t you, princess?” Dean chucked low in your ear. “You must have us under some kind of spell.”

Roman’s hips twisted and fireworks exploded across your vision, new heat spreading across your body as he hit your g-spot. You moaned, unable to even reply to Dean as your mind clouded with lust and pleasure. 

“You’re right, princess.” This time it was Seth’s voice in your ear. “We’ll always have your back. We’ll always protect you.”

Yes, they would. The Shield, the Hounds of Justice, belonged to you. And they weren’t going anywhere.