Alli

Your hand clutched your right ankle, holding it steady while your hips rolled. You threw your sopping cunt in the face of the beautiful, bearded man beneath you as he devoured it like it would be the last taste he’d ever get. Your face was twisted, contorted as if some excruciating pain was being inflicted on you—but it wasn’t. In fact, it was the opposite. “Joshua…” You let out a broken, shaking moan into the air as you dropped your head back. Your thick thighs shook again. You had been chasing an orgasm you’d been denied too many times to count. “God… daddy, please…” You whimpered softly. “Please, please, please, let me cum. I need to cum.”

Your eyes fell on the build of the man that sat in front of you, broad and immovable. He was giving you exactly what you asked for on your birthday. But it was his fault that you couldn’t burst. He noticed every time you were on the verge of your climax; every little twitch, the way your toes curled—Roman and Jey seemed to have some silent agreement that you wouldn’t get there until they both allowed it. You hated it. Your pleading eyes softened, your bottom lip jutting as you prepared yourself to beg, to humiliate yourself. But he only grinned, lifted the camera, and clicked—capturing you spread out, dripping, and desperate. A living image of need. You didn’t know how much more of their teasing you could take.

“Roman,” his name caught in your throat as Jey’s tongue flattened against your clit, lapping mercilessly while his two digits pumped in and out of your tight core. He was so skilled at this shit, it was sinful. Your eyes lowered to Jey’s, watching as he happily ate you up as if you weren’t a sticky, sweaty, whining mess. They’d been at it for hours, you couldn’t even tell anyone what time it was if they asked you to. A low chuckle from him filled the room as he shook his head at you, he stood to his feet, set the camera down and made his way over. “Not yet, babygirl.” His hand wrapped around the base of your throat as he leaned you backward a bit so you could look up at him. In this angle, he could take in your reaction to Jey closer and just as your eyes fluttered and your mouth opened, he spit right in it before leaning down so that your faces were a few centimeters away from each other before he stuck his tongue into your mouth and began sloppily tongue kissing you. He pulled back as soon as he felt your body beginning to tremble, a smirk spreading across his face and he let out a soft “tsk” sound at you. “You don’t get to cum until I’m inside you.”

Jey groaned against your pussy, as if he agreed with him. His tongue fucking you deeper before he pulled back, lips glistening, beard soaked with your cream. “She tastes so fuckin’ good, uce. We breakin’ her fine ass tonight, fasho.” Your body jolted at his words both in excitement and anticipation, a sprinkle of nervousness there too. It sent another wave of arousal flooding your slick folds. Roman’s other hand found your breast, his fingers caressing your hard nipple, twisting and pulling it. “Flip her,” he ordered and before you could even process it, Jey had you turned. Your back arched, ass up, face pressed into the sheets as he licked your fat lips from behind. Roman positioned himself in front of you and you were so lost in your own pleasure that you didn’t realized he’d stripped until he was tapping his heavy cock against your lips. Without him having to utter a word, you sat up and opened your mouth, taking him in without any hesitance. You swallowed him down inch by inch until your nose was snug with his pelvis, tears brimming your eyelids as you tried to find a balance between both men. “I don’t give a fuck what you do, but this dick doesn’t come out of your mouth unless I say so. You understand?” You nodded your head obediently.

Jey’s tongue circled your clit again, the sensation making your eyes roll back, but the grip Roman had on your hair kept you focused as he moved your head in a back/forth motion. The sound of your throat being punctured was guttural, piercing as it filled the room. The amount of raw sexual tension in the room was sickening. Your throat stretched wide and your cheeks hollowed as Roman fucked your mouth slowly. It was like he was filling every inch of it, you could feel every vein, every twitch, and the further he ventured into your throat the more your eyes watered; tears streaming your face. He was so deep that you could feel your muscles trying to reject him so you could regain some type of breathing ability without intrusion and while you tried to bite it back, his thick, mushroomed tip filled your esophagus and your stomach lurched in, making you gag. “Aht, aht. I thought you were a big girl, isn’t that what you told us?” Roman asked, taunting and mocking you.

Your head was spinning as you attempted aimlessly to find some type of solace but it all went downhill as soon as you felt Jey slipping between your silky walls. Your stomach sank, his grunt of satisfaction upon entry filled your ears as you looked up at Roman with pleading eyes. His smirk returned and he shook his head. “Nope.” He lowered his hand beneath your chin and raised your head just a bit to his liking then slipped right back into your saliva filled orifice. Spit had pooled and spilled from your mouth, you looked a disheveled mess but that only excited him more. “You taking this dick so good, throw it back.” “I might have to nut in this pussy.” “Look at you swallowing this dick like a good slut.” All praises which rang in your ears but fell on deaf ones at the same time, you could only see stars. Roman and Jey were like background noise as your body rocked back and forth, you were trying your hardest not to cum, trying your hardest to suck Roman and keep Jey locked between your walls, but your senses were overwhelmed. Your muffled cries around Roman’s dick made both your boys smile like devils.

“Aww, my sweet girl.” Roman teased pulled out, looking at the dazed expression on your face and Jey did the same, leaving you feeling empty. He let out an obnoxious laugh as he and Roman switched spots. Jey held his heavy shaft, tapping it against your forehead before letting it slip beyond the barrier of your swollen lips. You could feel him throbbing so you knew it wouldn’t be long before he was done. You turned your head to see where Roman had gone but Jey stopped you, forcing you to keep your head where it was and your attention on him. Then, you heard the click of the camera; once…twice…three times. You could feel Jey’s eyes on you as you took him in. “You wasn’t lying when you said she sucks dick like her life depends on it,” Jey laughed loudly as he placed a hand on the back of your head and began fucking your throat. Not too much time passed before you were whining as Roman stretched your tight hole open, Jey’s previous beating had your girl swollen, so Roman stretching you out again made you wince and your walls clamored around him.

Jey pulled back just enough to let you breathe, a groan leaving his lips as he gently slapped his hand against your face. “You been keeping this good shit away from us… that’s crazy, babygirl.” Your chest heaved, your throat raw and your thick thighs trembled. Roman’s dick was still buried deep inside your cunt and every deep stroke sent a shiver through your body. Before you could even register what was happening, Jey shifted, sliding down on the bed beneath you. His hands gripped your hips gently at first, working them up and down while he watched Roman fuck you. He kissed your earlobe ever so gently, whispering into it. “You doin’ such a good job, mama.” And suddenly, you felt the urge to pee. Roman backed out too, giving Jey the space to occupy your pussy before you could whine about being empty. “Augh…fuck,” Jey moaned as you clasped around him. Your face was buried in his neck now, his hands gripping both cheeks as he fucked you slowly from beneath. Another camera flick. The slow strokes gave you a moment to catch your breath, to breathe without any interruptions. You could hear the way your pussy was creaming, he was stroking that stroke so tenderly, you were sure he could feel your walls clenching.

One hand on your lower back, keeping you pinned against him as he fucked you from beneath. Each passing second you could feel yourself becoming undone. The telltale sign for Roman was your incessant whines and moans, both you and Jey were on cloud nine and Roman’s heavy hand smacking against your ass cheek sent a shock through you as you unintentionally unraveled. Your orgasm rocking through you hard and violent, body trembling all while Jey fucked you through it; you sobbed a constant series of apologies to Roman for cumming but he just laughed in response. Your body had become one with Jey’s at this point, your heart pounding in tandem with his as you felt Roman approach you once more, this time though, he laid his cock between your cheeks right before squirting a bunch of oil between the three of you, but mostly on your ass and his dick. Your body went rigid as Jey spread your ass and Roman lined up with your forbidden hole. “Relax, baby. Breathe.” Roman muttered as he rubbed his crown against the taut space. “You wanted both of us, right?” You nodded your head weakly.

The stretch was unreal, burning as he took his time with you while pushing past the initial resistance. He rocked slowly, wanting to give you time to relax and adjust; but he sank into your tightest place inch by inch. You were shaking, gasping, drooling when he bottomed out. But when they both started fucking you in sync, your world blacked out around the edges. “You hear that?” you heard Jey rasp, laughing loudly as you babbled incoherently. Their rhythm wrecked you, Jey pounding your pussy, Roman splitting your ass, they alternated so well that you didn’t even know which way was up. Every nerve in you screamed, every muscle begged for mercy as the boys had their way. You were trapped between them, again. Used. Owned. Worshipped. Your sobs were muffled, finding place in the crook of Jey’s neck. Roman’s thrusts grew sharper, he smacked your ass so hard that you knew from the sting, there’d be bruising. “Mm.. you love this shit, don’t you, mama?” Roman asked, he stroked deeper into you, forcing another cry from your lips. “Say it.” He demanded.

You tried to shake your head ‘no’ to deny how good it felt to have both of them, but it was almost instantaneous the way they both forced themselves deeper, until the only sound you could make was a choked moan. Roman laughed menacingly. “That’s good enough.” He knew that you did. He could tell by the cream that coated his cock and ringed your asshole, not to mention the mess staining the bed beneath you.

Your body betrayed you. Snapping without warning as pleasure detonated so hard that your entire body locked up. Your thighs quaked, your vision went white, and you came harder than you ever had in your life; squirting messily down your thighs, while your walls clamped around Roman and Jey so tight that they cursed. Roman pounded harder, his strokes becoming erratic until his own release ripped through him, filling your hole with his cum as his body jerked above yours. Hot spurts of his seed filled you, painting your insides as he groaned your name. Jey wasn’t far behind, you gripped him tight and his jaw immediately unhinged. “Get that nut,” Jey beckoned, his toes curling as he thrusted into you one more time before letting out a loud grunt, pulsing inside your pussy while your walls milked him of every drop he had.

Roman collapsed on your back for a moment. You were pinned between them, dripping and overstimulated, your body still twitching, full of their cum. And while you could barely breathe, there was actually no other place you’d rather be.

“What the hell was that finish?!” Vince’s voice tore through the noise like a leather lash. “You were booked to go over, where was the cover? Where was your three count, Valor?”

“After the Vortex,” Avery heard behind her, followed by a gentle hand on her back. “The Vortex got her I think…” Charlotte half-guess, glancing down at her quizzically. “She wasn’t moving, so I improvised.”

Avery looked up at Charlotte the best she could and hummed in agreement, finding a simple nod too difficult in the moment. The attempt alone caused an immense bout of pressure to shoot down into her shoulder.

Vince’s head turned toward Avery slowly, like he was analysing the legitimacy in Charlotte’s claims. He was always more partial to take Flair’s daughter’s word. Well, at least in comparison to hers. 

“You couldn’t move?”

Avery kept her voice even. “No.”

Rod slid into Gorilla behind them with a towel in hand. “Hey, Valor, you okay?”

“You know about this, Zapata?” Vince demanded.

“Not until after the bell, Sir,” Rod defended. “I trusted Charlotte knew what was goin’ down, so I made the call. Helped Avery up the ramp when we went to commercial, and she told me she tweaked her neck.”

Thank goodness for Rod Zapata.

Vince leaned back, resting both elbows on the armrests of his chair. “You all improvise like this again, you’ll be improvising at home.” He snapped the headset back over both ears, already done with them, as if Avery had just tripped over his favourite rug and not her own spinal cord.

Avery didn’t wait around. She looked at Charlotte with a somewhat desperate gaze that told her she needed to get the fuck out of Gorilla before she passed out.

“Hey,” Rod tugged steadily at her arm before she could leave. “I can go fill them in so you can sit and catch your breath for a few, if you want?”

Releasing a sigh, she once again attempted a nod, but all she could do was wince, jaw clenched tight. Once again, a hum of acceptance would only suffice.

By this point, she was drawing more attention than she would’ve preferred; there was nothing she would’ve rather have been doing than her post-match ritual. Key word: ritual. It felt… wrong that she wasn’t already in the showers, gearing up for her meal prep she had sitting on the top shelf in the fridge in catering. A new lemon pepper chicken and white rice recipe her brother had forwarded to her directly off of Pinterest. Then she could enjoy the rest of the show, be a fan for an hour or two, head to the bus with the girls, sleep, rinse, repeat.

But no.

Instead, she was ushered to the trainer’s room with Charlotte Flair and Natalya after Nia offered a sincere, teary apology, before subsequently disappearing from sight for the rest of the night.

There was some kind of burgeoning fear lurking somewhere in the back of her mind that if she were to let go of her neck at all, her entire head would loll and completely drop off from her shoulders. So irrational, so stupid for that matter, but so real in how she clutched at her neck with both hands to feed that fear.

The fluorescent lights in the trainer’s room were harsh, almost too white, and the air thickened with that familiar disinfectant and muscle rub cocktail by the minute.

Still in her damn gear, vinyl sleeves sticking to her arms where sweat cooled against her skin. Her breathing was shallow, uneven—not from exertion anymore, but from the hot, needling pain that hadn’t ceased to get worse.

Charlotte was leaning against the wall, arms folded, also still in her own gear, her blonde hair damp and sticking to her temples. Nataly sat on the edge of the next table, frowning. Both remained quiet, letting Chris, one of the more experienced trainers with WWE, do his work.

“Rod told me you froze up during the finisher on Nia,” he said evenly, calmly. “Let’s just take it one step at a time.” Chris was a big man, built soft, but moved with the diligence of someone who handled fragile things for a living. “Tell me exactly what you’re feeling.”

Avery tried to roll her shoulders but immediately winced. “Sharp pain right here,” she gestured to the left side of her neck, just below the base of her skull. “And it’s, like, shooting right down my arm. My fingers are tingling. Fucking hurts…”

Chris’ brows drew together. “Left side only?”

Yeah, it’s like…” she flexed her hand, grimacing, “Like I can’t grip as hard as I should.”

“That’s not good,” Charlotte mumbled to Natalya.

“Alright, range of motion,” Chris stepped in close. “Don’t move on your own, all you gotta do is sit still and let me guide you, ‘kay?”

He placed one large hand under her chin and the other at the back of her head, fingertips pressing into the muscles along her neck. Slowly, he tried to turn her head to the right. It wasn’t even ten degrees before the lightning bolt hit. A searing line of heat, shooting from her neck to do her shoulder blade.

“Fuck, stop, stop,” she hissed through clenched teeth, her heart hammering away.

Chris froze, keeping her head supported. “Sorry, Avery,” he cringed at her pain, knowing he was inflicting it, despite it needing to be done. “Let’s try flexion.” He tilted her head forward, just slightly, but her whole arm prickled with pins and needles.

“Nope, uh-uh, that’s worse,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut.

Natalya shifted uncomfortably. “You’re pale, Ave…”

“I’m fine,” she refuted. Lied. But she needed to be fine. Had to be. Had to pretend that the pressure in her neck didn’t feel wrong, didn’t feel like something deep inside had shifted and was too stubborn to shift back.

Chris eased her upright again, his hand still braced at the back of her head. “This ain’t just a stinger, Valor,” he said slowly, and firmly. He’d dealt with Avery many times, and knew how hard of a worker she could be. How tenacious she was. “We’re gonna ice you, get that neck stabilised. And you’re not to get back in any ring until we scan you and get a full diagnosis. You hear me?”

“Yeah…” she murmured under her breath.

“Can’t hear you, Valor.”

“Yes,” she said a little clearer, a little sourly, even though this was nowhere near the fault of Chris.

He moved to the supply cart, pulling out a soft foam collar and an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel. “Alright, try to keep still while I do this,” he gently instructed as he set the ice pack against the side of her neck first. The ice was sharp, biting into overheated skin. Her shoulders twitched involuntarily at the contact, flinching without control.

“Hey, don’t tense up,” Charlotte scolded her. “You’ll make it worse.”

“I’m not tense,” Avery muttered, belying her entire composure.

Natalya leaned her elbow on her knees. “Okay, so what’s the plan after the show? You’re not hauling your own bags tonight, no way.”

“What, you gonna carry me onto the bus?” Avery snorted.

“If we had to,” Charlotte said, deadpan. “We’ll set you up in the front so you can boss everyone around from there.”

Chris adjusted the ice, then reached for the collar. “This is just temporary until we get you fully checked. Keep your head still—I mean it.”

As he started easing the collar around her neck, there was a quick knock on the door. Before anyone could answer, it cracked open just enough for a big frame to slide in sideways.

Joe.

He was still in his warm-up shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, with the bottom half of his ring gear on. His hair was pulled up in a dry bun, no oil, no water. And his eyes flicked around the room like he was making sure he was even supposed to be there.

“Uh… Char?” his voice was low, but it had that edge of curiosity. “Avery in here?”

Charlotte straightened a little. “Yeah, she’s here.”

Joe stepped all the way in, closing the door halfway behind him. “Heard some talk in the hall. Wanted to check for myself.” His gaze slid past Charlotte and Natalya until it landed on Avery—and Chris with his hands at her neck.

His expression changed in an instant. Not dramatically, but enough to clock. Mouth tightened, eyes narrowing slightly. He’d expected a deep cut, maybe a tweaked shoulder. Not a neck brace.

“Ohhh, shit…”

Avery caught it immediately. “Don’t you start,” she flatly defended.

“Ain’t startin’ nothin’,” he raised his hands. “Just… damn. That’s not a bump.”

“Nope,” Chris agreed without looking up. “Not a bump. Hold still, Avery.”

Joe moved around to the other side of the table, far enough not to be in Chris’ way, yet still close enough to see her face.

All of her makeup was still present, smudged here and there from exertion in the ring. Potentially a little from tears she made sure nobody saw. Her hair, like Charlotte’s, hung loose and damp, the blonde ombré she’d had done a few months ago looking like wet paint left in the rain. And her eyes; he knew she’d want to take those contacts out soon. He knew all too well.

“You movin’ okay?” he asked.

“She’s moving as little as possible,” Nattie answered for her.

“I’m fine,” Avery said again, even though the collar made her feel like her head was set in cement.

Joe gave her a look; the kind that said you’re so full of shit. “Yeah, okay. Fine. Whatever you say.”

Charlotte shifted her weight, glancing at Joe. “She’s gonna ride up front with us tonight. We’re gonna figure it out so she doesn’t have to—”

“I’ll handle her bag,” he cut in easily, like it was a done deal. “No one needs to be tryin’ to haul that with your shoulder, neck—” he gestured vaguely to her, “nerve situation, whatever you got goin’ on.”

Avery groaned. “Here we go…”

He smirked, just a little. “What? I’m just sayin’, you ain’t draggin’ that thing down the lot. I’ll throw it on with mine.”

Chris finished securing the collar, adjusting the velcro so it sat snug but not choking. “Alright, that should stop you from making it worse until we get more eyes on it. Ice for twenty minutes, off for twenty, repeat. I’ll give you an extra pack to take with you on the bus. You’ll get a call tomorrow from medical, probably around mid-morning, to set up imaging. If you feel the pins-and-needles getting worse, or any more weakness in your arm or hand, you call me or go straight to the ER. Don’t wait.”

Avery gave him a dry smile. “So basically… don’t be a stubborn asshole?”

“That’s the short version,” he humoured her with one last tug of the velcro before stepping back. “You’re good to go for now.”

Charlotte was already reaching for Avery’s arm. “We’ll get you outta here.”

Avery slid off the table slowly, the collar making her turn her whole torso when she looked at her friend. “I can walk, you know.”

“Mmhmm,” Charlotte didn’t even argue, just gently put her hand on her upper back for support.

When they pushed into the hallway, the usual buzz of backstage activity hit them. A few crew members and talent who’d clearly already heard something gave quick looks her way. Looks half-concerned, half-inquisitive. Someone muttered “she alright?” to Nattie as they passed, and they were assured and swept under the rug as one thing Avery should not have been worrying about at that moment. Which was true; the last thing she needed to be thinking about was what others in the company may say about a potential injury amongst the roster.

Natalya glanced over at catering, where they had a few television monitors playing live feed from two different cameras. “You wanna stay and watch the rest of the show? Main event’s soon.”

Avery hesitated. “Kinda… I need to go shower and get this make up off and these fucking contact lenses out before I go blind.”

Charlotte perked up immediately. “We could help y–”

“Oh my God,” Avery cut in, “No. You’re not helping me shower, and you’re not taking my contacts out.”

Nattie grinned. “I’ll hold your head still, she can do the rest.”

Joe was still trailing quietly beside them, and had suddenly found the floor very interesting. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a laugh.

Avery clocked him instantly. “Don’t you even think about volunteering.”

He finally looked up at her, a slow grin spreading. “Hey, I wasn’t gonna say nothin’. But… you might have to bribe me to keep quiet about that image in my head now.”

“Ew,” Charlotte groaned.

“Not ew,” Avery shot back, smirking despite the collar. “Strategic.”

A moment passed of them just standing there. People watching. As though they weren’t entirely sure what to do with themselves during this spare time. For Avery, it could not have been more discomforting; she needed to book it to the showers before she broke down then and there.

“Uh, you just wait in catering if you want. I’ll be there once I’m done,” she sighed. Then she glanced between Charlotte and Nattie. “And if you’re actually serious, I will take you up on helping me wash my hair on the bus tonight. I’m not exactly equipped to do it solo right now.”

Charlotte smirked, that teasing little glint in her eyes. “Oh, we’re one hundred percent serious.”

Nattie folded her arms, tilting her head. “You know we’re professionals at this point.”

“God help me,” Avery muttered, and it almost sounded like humour. But her tone didn’t quite get there.

They started to move down the hall, the sound of the crowd faint through the thick cinderblock walls. Joe stayed back, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.

“You sure you’re stickin’ around to watch the rest of the show?” he asked with his voice pitched low—a casual, measured drawl that made it sound like he wasn’t asking for much. But she could tell he was. She knew him better than he knew himself.

Avery shrugged as much as her neck and the brace would allow. “Wasn’t planning on it, really, but…”

“I got a dark match tonight,” he jumped in, watching her reaction like he was throwing out bait and waiting to see if she’d take it.

It landed instantly. He knew she could never turn down a chance to watch one of his matches. Never had done.

“Alright,” she agreed without hesitation. “Then yeah, I’m staying.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

She let herself match it with the faintest one of her own. “See you later, then.”

“Yeah…” he murmured, still standing there when she turned the corner toward the women’s locker room. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head to himself. “Goddamn it, Collins…” he mumbled to himself, unable to ignore the fact that one of the people he cared about the most was in for one hell of a tough ride.

The showers were empty. Mercifully so.

Avery let her bag drop onto the bench with a muted thump, acutely aware of the beating she’d receive from Charlotte, or Joe and Natalya, for even thinking of picking up her bag—even if it was just her smallest one.

Steam was already curling from the row of stalls, catching the overhead lights in a ghostly haze. She peeled off her gear in slow, deliberate movements, her body moving with a careful precision that came from both habit and, now, necessity. Sure, it was difficult. It would have been so much easier had someone come and helped her. But no way was that tenacious streak of hers going to let her roll over and give up so quickly, so easily.

The warmth of the water spraying at her shoulder upon first contact, running in rivulets down her arms before dripping off her fingertips, should have been soothing. Instead, it seemed to magnify the weight pressing at the base of her skull. She could feel each droplet as it traced over the edge of the brace, pooling briefly before slipping away.

She stared at the pale tiles in front of her, and that’s when it started. The faint, restless flutter in her chest. Not pain, not exactly, but something more akin to a current winding tight. Feeding on itself.

Her breath caught once. Then again.

She tried to blink it back, but her eyes blurred anyway. One tear slid hot down her cheek, cutting a warmer path through the cooler mist before it vanished against her skin. Then another.

Eventually, she stopped trying to stop it.

Pathetic.

Standing there in the steam. Crying with a neck brace on like some washed-up charity case.

But the truth was much rawer. Avery was terrified. Terrified of the scans. Of the words career-ending. Of the thought that maybe she’d never set foot in a ring again except to wave from the sidelines. Terrified of who she’d be without the thing that had defined her for years. Kept her alive for years.

The hiss of the water masked everything: her breathing, the faint choked sobs. But even alone, she kept her voice down, as if someone might still hear.

She could have stayed there forever until she was some shrivelled up raisin, had it not been for the unsteadiness in her legs.

Then, she forced herself to pull it back together. Piecing the mask on bit by bit. Until there was no sign that she’d started to crack at all.

April 19th, 2025

Stupid.

That’s how I felt.

Stupid for not noticing the glint in the eye of the Wiseman. For not seeing what was to come. For being so hyper-focused on what Punk might do that I completely missed it.

The catalyst. The enabler. The perpetually burning match. The constant thorn in the Tribal Chief’s side.

Stupid for the anger I could not contain. Refs holding me back as I screeched after that Judas, as I launched the steel chair I’d been sitting on in their direction. 

That was before he came back through the curtains. Before I had to switch modes. I was ready to kill, prepared to take the brunt of the consequences, ready to wreck everyone and leave hand in hand with my Tribal Chief.

But he needed me now.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

His fingertips dug into my hips—I could feel how they itched to take control and rock me how he wanted. But it wasn’t the time for that. It wasn’t the time for taking control. He’d held on to control as long as he could until it hung by a thread. And now the thread had snapped.

He had to let go.

All I had to do was run my fingers through his hair, scratch my nails gently through his beard, leave small butterfly kisses along his raw back, specks of red still remaining from the familiar brutal attack. Like chocolate on a hot day, he just melted into me.

Relinquished all he was, all he tried to be. There wasn’t much left, everyone had taken a piece in their departure, but he gave the rest to me. Because he knew, above all, I would keep it safe in my pocket, keep it close to my chest, cherish it, and return it when the time was right.

“You look so pretty like this,” I hummed gently, admiring how the dim light cast shadows along the column of his throat as his head leaned back on the armchair. “So beautiful…” I added in a whisper, circling my hips on his, flinching as his mushroom tip massaged that sensitive spot deep inside me.

My fingers traced the patterns of his tattoos, feeling the pride of his legacy, the dynasty from which he sprouted. My Tribal Chief, my life and soul, my whole universe.

“K-keep going,” he managed to grunt, his eyebrows knitting together as he fought to lift his head to look at me. A small bruise on his forehead, the bags under his eyes, the sorrow still tugging at his mouth even as it fell open to release a moan or a pant. 

“Just wanna feel better,” he mumbled, leaning up and hiding his face in my chest and wrapping his hulking arms around my body, keeping me pressed flushed to him whilst I rode him in his hotel suite. 

“Shh, I know, baby, I got you…” My hand came round to caress the back of his head. “I got you,” I repeated. “Doesn’t it feel good already, sweetheart?” He nodded, clumsily pushing the neckline of my dress down with his chin. “Good… ‘Cause I can’t get enough of my Tribal Chief…”

At that, his arms tightened around me and his lips wrapped around one of my stiffened nipples, sucking and nibbling as I sped up ever so slightly.

I enveloped him completely with my warmth, both literally and figuratively. Sitting snugly, the entirety of his length filled me to the hilt. My clit, swollen and throbbing just from watching tonight’s match, brushed against him, feeling the coarse hair that trailed down his abdomen.

Reaching behind him, I guided him back to his original position, but his mouth stayed attached, refusing to let me go.

“Ro…”

He released my nipple with a quick kitten lick and angled his head up, meeting my gaze. My heart faltered, fluttering in my chest, at how gorgeous my man was. Even with the alterations he’d made over the years; the reconstructive surgery on his nose after busting it in a brawl with his boss, the veneers that straightened his jaw and brightened his smile even more. The faint freckles you could only spot if you were within close proximity. Full lips. Salt and pepper king.

The most perfect man in the world.

But the more I looked into his eyes at that moment, the more I saw it. The reddening in the whites, the glittering of his waterline. Lower lashes grouping and laying flat. A quiver in his mouth.

“Oh, baby,” I sighed, moving to hold his face in my hands, rippling my body against him, causing him to blink and let out a little grunt, a lone tear rolling down his cheek and onto my right hand as he did.

“Don’t,” he responded through clenched teeth. “Please, just… just take it away.” Swallowing hard, he lowered his hand to grab onto my ass, urging me to lift up and off of his cock, just to bring me right back down and engulf him again.

“I’ll take it away, Ro,” I reassured him, nodding and resting my forehead on his head. “Wanna take it all away from y—fuck, you feel so good,” I moaned, my nails digging into his beard. One hand dropped to his shoulder, tense and bulging with pure muscle. 

He couldn’t stop himself from writhing his own hips, feet planted firmly on the carpet and using them to pivot upwards. “That’s it, baby,” I mumbled against his head, meeting his movements.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, “So fuckin’ perfect for me… takin’ care of me like this…”

The grin was automatic, and I felt my cheeks burn at the praise, despite the fact it was supposed to be the other way round.

“I’m always gonna take care of you, Roman…”

“Yeah?” He sat all the way back, both hands grabbing at my hips, muscles flexing with every motion. 

“Yess… fuuck,” I whined, my head hanging back. “The best…” My eyes fluttered shut. 

“I’m the best?”

“Yeah, you’re the best, baby… never had dick like this. So fucking big,” I smirked, peering down at him through hooded eyelids. “Always making me cum so fucking hard.”

“Damn straight, sweetheart.” For the first time that evening, I saw the glimmer of a smile at the corner of his mouth, but it disappeared as soon as it came and was swiftly replaced with what can only be described as a look of complete ecstasy. Jaw jutting forward, teeth on show, nose scrunched up. 

“It’s all you tonight, baby,” I continued, placing my palms flat on his shoulders and bracing myself. I didn’t fuck about for much longer; I bounced on his lap, milking him for everything he had, everything he wanted to give me.

“All me… Fuck, gimme that shit.”

Biting down on my lips, I groaned low in my chest, purposefully squeezing onto his cock. Lewd noises filled the room, and just by those alone, it seemed there was no limit to how wet this man could make me.

I watched as his pecs pulsed, the veins in his arms stood prominent, and his hair started to frizz endearingly, wildly, giving me the rawest glimpse of the Samoan in his blood.

One would be lucky to have such passion in a partner, bred of the Italians and the Islands.

“Don’t stop—don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he growled, releasing a harsh breath out through his flared nostrils.

“Not gonna stop… not ‘til you cum inside me, Ro, I fucking need it,” I hummed, taking his chin in my hand so he had no choice but to look up at me. I hovered my face over his, our lips parted as we panted into each other’s mouths. “Fucking beautiful, you realise that? Needing to fill me so fucking bad…”

“You keep talkin’ like that, babygirl, I’mma nut all up in this pussy.” 

His filthy words encouraged me, adding more swing to my hips, fucking him so roughly—so passionately—that the armchair we sat in started creaking under us. I swiped my tongue along his open mouth, dipping it beyond the threshold to kiss him fully. Sloppily, loudly, clumsily.

“Mmm, I love you,” he grumbled almost incoherently, grabbing my ass to aid me as I bounced. “You’re so good to me, mama, you ain’t got a clue.”

“Shit, you deserve it, baby,” I answered, my words shaky and stuttering with my movements, each collision of our bodies reverberating in my chest. “You deserve the world, e-everything–fuck, I want you to cum so bad.”

Growling, he smashed his lips back to mine, tongue immediately attacking mine, and his hips thrusting up, chasing a high he so desperately needed in lieu of the one he was denied in the ring tonight. 

“Come on, Ro, take it,” I moaned, “Right in this pussy, do it… take it all.”

“Oh, I am, it’s all mine. You ready, sweetheart?”

“Always ready for you… cum for me, my Tribal Chief.”

His teeth snapped down on my lip, and an animalistic groan erupted from deep down in his chest. Thrusts became inconsistent, muscles twitched, and he did what he promised he would; he gave me every ounce of him, inside and out. 

Didn’t care how messy it became, because it was mine. Ours.

The Tribal Chief wasn’t selfish. He always gave after he took.

That’s why, within five minutes of busting inside me, it was my turn; seated, legs forced open and resting on the chair arms. Frizzy Samoan mane slotted perfectly between my thighs, whilst his mammoth hands pushed them open.

His tongue rolled over my clit, and his head angled up. Doe eyes watching my every response, a smirk appearing as I sank further into the chair.

Lips wrapped around my nub, and he suckled, cheeks moving along with his tongue. He allowed his saliva to coat me completely, messily slurping.

“Ahh fuck, that’s it, baby,” I breathed, reaching down to hold his hair from his face so I could see his undying devotion. He hummed against me in response, flattening his tongue to drag it all the way up from my tight entrance, where I seeped with him, and all the way back to my pearl. Then repeat.

“Such a perfect man.” I arched my back as he went back to assaulting my clit. “You eat this pussy too good.”

“Just wanna make my girl feel like a million dollars, mama…” He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh. “‘Specially after makin’ me nut like that. Gotta make sure this pussy gets eaten. Gotta keep her happy.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile as our eyes met. He was so special. Nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for him.

Nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for me.

“I can assure you, you’re making this girl very very happy, my Tribal Chief,” I whispered, stroking my fingers through his hair before tightening my grip. “Now, get back to it and make me cum, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said through an excited huff before diving right back in. 

He spread me open, explored every inch of me, stimulated and edged me more times than I cared to count. It was obvious by the mischievous glint in his eyes that he enjoyed when my legs began to shake, when my core started throbbing against his tongue, when my moans turned to whimpers, and my whimpers turned to whines.

“Goddamn, I fuckin’ love those sounds,” he spat, yanking me closer to him.

“Don’t stop, what are you doing??” I asked breathlessly. And my heart nearly fucking stopped when he looked up at me with such a determined glare, the aging around his eyes making him look far more brooding than he perhaps intended.

“Ain’t stoppin’, baby, just wanna make sure I get it all when this pretty lil pussy cums all over my fuckin’ face.”

“Fuck,” I gasped, tugging on his hair as he fervently flicked and swirled his tongue around my clit. “Oh shit, shit… right there, fuck I’m gonna cum…”

“Yeah? Right there on that clit, baby?” He sucked on me, and hummed harshly, knowing the vibrations would go straight to my head, would dumb me down and take me out.

Clenching my jaw, I focused on him and his pussy-drunk expression. Our eyes were completely glued to one another. Wide and… innocent.

He looked innocent.

Desperate.

Almost pathetic to a degree.

“You want me to cum for you, baby?” I panted, using the grip I had on his hair to rock his face against me. “C’mon, tell me, Ro, you want me to cum?”

He let out a small sound of struggle as he tried to answer with his mouth magnetised to my cunt, but it was followed by a little grunt that told me everything I needed to know to keep going.

“Mmmph–fuck yeah,” I barely heard.

“Gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

He stopped his licks and sucks, just to snarl back, albeit still with his lips dragging over my drenched folds—thanks to my control over his head.

“Please, mama, I need you to cum. Need this pretty pussy to nut—just wanna make you feel good, please…”

It was more of a ramble, and it gave me great satisfaction to see him beg for my release, to see him work for a single sentence, as sadistic as it was. 

For someone who was so accustomed to being in control, he was so good at giving it away for a moment in time…