Story Title: Bruises
Story Type: Slash
Characters: Bryan Danielson, Mike Mizanin, mentions of CM Punk, Colt Cabana, Evan Bourne (Matt Sydal), Alex Riley, Cody Rhodes, Ted DiBiase, Shawn Michaels, HHH and VKM
Pairings: Danielson/Mike
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Series: None
Disclaimer: In case you haven't realized, I own nothing but a bunch of crazy muses and an over active imagination that gets me into serious trouble on a daily basis. These guys belong to WWE/ROH and themselves.
Warnings: Slash, language, smut, physical violence
A/N: I really have no idea where this came from; I was listening to music and writing the new chapter for 'Mine' when Bruises by Plain White T's came on and I got blindsided by this bunny. It wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are. I've never wrote these two together before, so any feedback would be appreciated. Oh, I also refrained from calling Danielson 'Dragon' in this; although it's my favorite of his nicknames, I figured Mike wouldn't be likely to call him that. As far as I've been able to determine, it's really only the people he was in the indies with that use it and we all know Mike wasn't knocking around the indies at the same time Dragon was. I think that's it. Enjoy, peeps.
A/N2: This takes place right after the draft this year, before MITB.
Bryan rolled out of the ring and walked up the ramp with his head lowered, playing it up for the crowd. He kept his eyes down like he was ashamed of himself but his temper was starting to heat up.
Once he cleared the curtain, Bryan's head came up. Any of his friends would have noticed that look in his eyes and steered clear of him; he didn't lose his temper often, but when he did it was spectacularly bad enough that even Punk -who was notorious for his own bitch fits and would escalate his threats and punches until only Colt was willing to go near him- didn't mess with him when he got pissed off.
But if there was one thing he was short of right now, it was friends. Matt and Punk were still on Raw; he was the only one from the old ROH crew to get drafted.
Not that it mattered, Punk had been making noises for the past year that he was done with WWE and he had been steadily getting louder about it until even Vince started paying attention to him. Vince seemed serious about resigning him, but Bryan could see it in Punk's eyes that he was getting burned out. Years of being treated like shit were catching up to him and the lack of respect from everyone in the office was enough to put him on edge.
Personally, Bryan thought that the way Vince and company had treated Colt had been the beginning of the end for Punk. Colt centered and grounded Punk in a way no one else could and Punk was always happier and more relaxed when Colt was there. The only thing that surprised Bryan was that it had taken this long for Punk to leave.
And even Matt's usual cheerful disposition couldn't hide the bitter disappointment that had been dodging him lately. Getting pushed back and being forced to job to almost everyone was starting to take it's toll on him and Bryan figured it was only a matter of time before Matt left, too. Matt might not be the biggest guy on the roster -even in ROH and Dragongate he hadn't been- but his talent and energy had always more then made up for his lack of size. Vince was notorious for squishing the smaller guys but after assurances from both Hunter and Stefanie, Matt had signed with them, convinced that he would get the push he deserved.
Unfortunately for him, he had been disappointed, time and again. It had gotten to the point where Matt was looking over offers from ROH to rejoin their main roster when his contract was up.
Bryan couldn't even blame them; being forced to job to Cody Rhodes was enough to piss him off and the fact was that the younger man wasn't even half the wrestler he was and still Bryan had to make it look like the kid knew what he was doing. It was like he was stuck on Raw with Mike all over again.
It wasn't even that alone that had gotten him to this point; he had spent a huge portion of his indy career as heel, so losing wasn't the hot button for him that it was for other wrestlers. And he had known signing with the WWE meant that guys like Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase would get favored over the indy guys. Hell, WWE treated everyone that they signed from any where else like they were fucken scum for the most part.
What was really pissing him off was that the matches they were giving him were only about ten minutes long and they never let him do anything. He was constantly being forced to look like he had no idea what he was doing and that was what was really getting him ready to flip.
Bryan walked through the hallways until he got to the small locker room that was his. It was barely bigger then a broom closet, but he wasn't sharing with anyone and that's what counted for him. When he was on Raw, sharing hadn't been that big of a deal; he had Punk and Matt to chat with and there had been a couple other guys that weren't too bad, but here on Smackdown there was no one he could even attempt to hold a conversation with.
The upper and lower card guys hardly ever talked to each other -it been like that on Raw, too- and it had been a shock to Bryan. In the indies, wrestlers were wrestlers, there was no division between main eventers and everyone else. At Raw it had been hard, but the trade to Smackdown meant he had no one to talk to and most of the wrestlers here looked down on him and treated him like he was a fucken leper or something.
Bryan had finally gotten tired of trying to make nice with people and decided that it would be better if he distanced himself from everyone else before he lost it and started brawling with one of the "entertainers".
At first, he had just started using the public restrooms to get changed in and kept his gear either in whatever rental car he was using or the tour bus. Of course, he had run into fans that way and had usually stayed to talk to them and urge them to go buy some merch -old habits died hard and sometimes getting your merch sold meant the difference between eating and starving for a week in the indies.
Word must have gotten back to Vince or Hunter or whoever, and he had been pulled aside and lectured about how it wasn't fitting with his image as a superstar to get changed there. At that point, he had used his connection to Shawn -something he never would have done under normal circumstances- to get him a private room. Everyone started talking about how stuck up he was, how he thought he deserved it because Shawn had trained him. Bryan couldn't care less what they said, as long as he could get changed in peace and have some quiet before he went out and put on what passed for a wrestling match around here.
He went in the room, feeling drained. What he wanted, more then anything, was to go home and pull out his copy of his contract and see how long he had left before he could escape this hell hole. What he'd have to settle for was to get changed, go to the hotel and get something to eat before he went to bed.
"Well, look who it is," Mike sneered, leaning against the door frame. He looked around the room with distaste; his room for Raw was bigger then this, of course, but he had to wait much longer to get his own. But then, Mike thought with another sneer, he hadn't been trained by Shawn Michaels. He'd had no boost to get where he was; unlike Bryan, he'd had to earn everything he got.
"If it isn't Shawn's little pet," he continued, moving so he was in the room with the smaller man.
"What do you want, Mike?" Bryan asked wearily. He was in no mood for Mike's shit, he was barely hanging on to his temper and he knew talking to Mike wasn't going to help him any.
Ever since they had started working together during NXT, the other man had gotten on Bryan's nerves; he supposed they just rubbed each other the wrong way. But Mike couldn't just leave it alone, he always had to pick a fight with him. Normally, Bryan ignored him -unless he was in a ring, he was usually just too laid back to fight like that, but tonight Bryan was in the mood to indulge him. And he had a feeling Mike wouldn't be happy with the results.
"Just thought I'd stop by and see how you were adjusting to the move," Mike taunted, smirking. "I guess this must be a step up for you."
"What the hell are you even doing here?" Bryan demanded, standing up and facing Mike. "Aren't you supposed to be in Florida or something?"
"Not that it's any of your fucken business, but I stopped on my way," Mike snapped and Bryan caught the slightest flicker in his eye. "I wanted to talk to someone; I'm finishing the drive in the morning."
"Now, I understand. Stopped to talk to Riley, huh? Did you catch him with Orton's dick down his throat? Or maybe it was Jay's; it's hard to keep up with Riley's exploits these days," Bryan goaded him, practically daring the other man to try something.
"Shut the fuck up," Mike snarled, coming the rest of the way inside and kicking the door shut behind him. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"Don't I? Poor Mike, lost your boy toy and your title all in a month or so," Bryan said, his words mocking. "How does it feel to know that Riley was bending over for you because you had that strap? As soon as it became clear you weren't getting any where near it again, he dumped your stupid fucken ass and -"
Mike shoved him, his face flushed. Bryan just smiled at Mike, but his temper had well and truly blown up. "Do it," Bryan said, reading the violence in Mike's eyes. "I fucken dare you."
They stood there staring at each other for an endless space of minutes before Mike smacked Bryan across the face. Bryan smiled again before he swung at Mike and sent him stumbling back a few steps.
For the next twenty minutes or so, they fought their way around the small room; swinging wildly and grunting whenever a punch landed particularly hard.
Bryan was panting by the time he had Mike pinned against the wall; he was covered in bruises and his lip was busted open. Mike could fight better then Bryan had given him credit for.
Whatever he was going to say was forgotten when he felt Mike's erection against his leg. Smirking, he pressed Mike harder against the wall, not missing the slight tremor that went through him at the action.
"Mizanin, you dirty bitch," Bryan said, biting at the other man's throat. "Let's see rough you can take it."
He kept one hand around Mike's throat and attacked his mouth violently, their teeth hitting as Bryan took what he wanted. Pulling back, he bit Mike's lower lip until he tasted blood.
Bryan looked at Mike, congratulating himself when he saw the glazed over look in Mike's eyes and the way he moaned when he licked his lips and tasted his own blood.
He tightened the hand that was around Mike's throat and used his other hand to undo the button on Mike's jeans. Mike whimpered as Bryan's hand clutched at his dick and his nails dug into his throat. His head was spinning and he felt completely helpless. He felt his cock twitch at the thought and he groaned again.
This was what he wanted, what he craved. It was something he had never been able to make Alex understand, no matter how hard he had tried.
"Get on your fucken knees, Mike," Bryan said, letting go of his throat. He pulled down his tights just enough to free his dick. When Mike didn't move, he growled and pushed him down hard enough to make Mike wince. Bryan grabbed the back of his head and when Mike opened his mouth to say something, he shoved his dick into his mouth, making Mike gag.
Bryan pulled back and thrusted in again, moaning when Mike quickly adjusted and started sucking on him like a pro. After a few minutes, he pulled Mike off of him and yanked him up, kissing him just as roughly as before.
"Your ass is mine," Bryan snarled before turning Mike around and almost throwing him face first into the wall. As soon as he was against the concrete, Bryan was all over him; covering Mike's body with his own.
He bit into Mike's shoulder as his hands moved to the front of Mike's pants, pulling the zipper down and shoving the jeans so he could get his hands on what he wanted. He slid his left hand to grab Mike's cock while his right hand skimmed over Mike's ass.
Bryan slipped two fingers down to press against Mike's entrance at the same time he squeezed Mike's dick. "I don't think we'll be needing any lube, do you?"
Mike hissed in pain when Bryan shoved both fingers in at once. But under the pain, there was a frantic, erratic pleasure pounding through his body and Mike was helpless to fight against it. And the truth was, he didn't want to.
Bryan pulled his fingers out and moved back enough so that he could push on Mike's upper back to get him to bend over. Once Mike had gotten the hint and was where Bryan wanted him, he positioned himself and waited a second before he slammed into him. Mike stumbled forward and smashed his face against the wall.
"Fuck," Mike muttered, moving his hands so he could brace himself and not end up with a broken nose. "That hurt."
"Poor baby," Bryan taunted before he pulled out and then thrusted back into him. He set a harsh, fast pace; barely even aware when Mike's pained grunts gave way to moans. The only thing he cared about was the fact that was tight around him and that he was taking out every bit of his temper on Mike's ass.
Leaning forward, he sunk his teeth into Mike's shoulder, biting down as hard as he could. Bryan felt Mike clench around him and then let out a long, low moan. He closed his eyes, biting even harder as he came.
After a minute, Bryan managed to unclench his teeth and pulled back, smirking when he saw the blood dripping under Mike's shirt, staining the material. He worked himself free, feeling even more smug when he saw the bruises his hands had left on Mike's hips.
He grabbed a fistful of Mike's hair, yanking his head back for one last kiss. "Not too bad, Mizanin," Bryan said mockingly, biting his lip again.
Bryan turned away from him, walking over to his duffel. He stripped out of his gear and pulled out his towel. He barely even looked at Mike as he walked over to the extremely small shower stall and turned on the hot water.
After he was done, Bryan wrapped the towel around his waist. Glancing around the room, he raised an eyebrow when he saw a piece of paper laying in the middle of the floor. He picked it up, smirking again when he read the note.
Suite 200, Hilton.
Laying underneath it was a room keycard. Maybe the rest of the night wasn't going to be as bad as he had originally thought.