A/N: I don't want to ruin this, but there is blood, violence, and non-con sex. If any of that bothers you, don't read. See y'all at the end for another author's note.
btw, I don't own any of these guys and I'm not making any money off of it.
I have to do this. I can't keep letting him terrorize me. The words are roiling in my brain as I wrap my wrists in the red and black tape. I might be a know-nothing rookie but that doesn't mean I have to put up with being his personal punching bag. It was the reason I went to creative and told them to book me as the one meeting Kurt in the ring tonight. With a frown I glance down at the dark bruise that encircles my wrist as the shiny black tape—which I secretly believe is just electrical tape—covers it. The bruise itself is only hours old, but the thoughts that are crowding my brain are weeks—no a month old. As I cover most of the black tape with red I snort; calling myself an idiot for letting him get away with what he has. My parents didn't raise a doormat but here I am letting someone knock me around all because of his position in the company. My trunks are lying besides me on the bench and I look down at them; my eyes burning slightly as I think about what I'm about to do. After all it wasn't always bad between us. In the beginning it was rather nice; he didn't let anyone mess with me, told them all that I was protégé and that I was gonna be the face of the company one day and that between the both of us we'd rule the locker room.
Tch, now look. You caught the big boss man's eye and he turned on you. Gritting my teeth I slide my jeans down my legs and tug the shiny, stretchy material—black and red just like my tape—up and wiggle around until I feel that they're fitting me right. His music suddenly blares from the tv that's bolted to the ceiling and I run my eyes over his body that his single seems to be molded to. He's not beautiful in the classical sense, but he has the look of someone that protects what's his with his life. For a while that was me, but after tonight I don't know what I'll be to him. The crowd is screaming and chanting 'You Suck' and he just ignores it; letting the fans think that they're getting to him. If they knew that he just laughs it off in the back they'd be disappointed, after all he's not the one that sucks—I am; atleast that what all my trainers have told me. My nerves are so taunt that I'm afraid that they'll snap the minute I slide into that ring. I continue to watch, fighting with myself over whether or not I really want to do this; my brain screaming yes while my body resists the messages to get out to the ring and show him that I'm not like the rest of the new talent, I have what it takes to be someone—whether he wants to see it or not.
"I'm issuing a challenge to anyone in that locker room that I've never wrestled before to come down here and face Kurt Angle." His voice; strong and confident cuts through my sudden surge of bravado and I sit back down, my knees trembling as he continues to talk. "C'mon guys there's gotta be somebody back there that wants to seize the moment."Dammit! I have to do this. If I don't stand up now then I'll be nothing more than his punching bag for the rest of my tenure here. I force myself to stand again and I start towards the stage; my body covered in a cold sweat as I stand at the mouth and stare down. I can't do this, he'll rip me to shreds before the world and then later he'll rip me to shreds in the privacy of our room. "Listen, don't be scared. I will take it easy on you." Those words, so simple are nothing but lies—lies that he's force fed me as he bound my arms behind my back and beat me, lies that he's whispered in my ear as he's bent me over what ever is handy and taken me as I've cried and begged for him to stop. "There has to be someone that fifty years from now.." With a growl I make my move; standing for moment as the generic music they've picked for me sounds. He looks confused for moment; his eyes traveling over my body and I can't help the shiver that works its way down my spine.
"Who in the hell are you?" He asks, his lips quirking up in a smirk that I know means that once we're away from everyone that my ass is grass.
"I'm John Cena." My voice was low, and it takes everything I have to keep eye contact as he continues to smirk at me.
"John Cena huh? Well you tell me what is the one quality that you possess that makes you think you can walk out here and come into the ring and face the very best in the ring."
My body's trembling as he points the mic towards me, my eyes the only part of me that gives away the fear that I feel clawing at my stomach as Kurt stares me down; his eyes are boring holes into my skull, making me doubt myself. Before I can chicken out and roll from the ring as I make some joke about it, I swallow and try to put as much as heat and cockiness into my answer.
"Ruthless Aggression." I can't believe the force behind my voice and I smack Kurt; making him drop the mic before I take him down; knowing that if I don't get the first hit in then I'm definitely going down.
"What in the hell are you doing?" He hissed.
I don't answer, I can't; knowing that if I do I'll lose what little lead I have. He shoves me off and goes over to the ropes looking for some relief or some breathing time to be able to think of a way to get me off my game. I don't give him the breather he's looking for, I run at him and without a second thought clothes line him to the outside; wincing slightly as he lands awkwardly. The fact that he didn't get back up right away has me hurrying to the outside and I bend down to check on him; worried that I might have actually hurt him. The yells from those at ringside remind me that we're not closeted in our room, but instead playing out a very personal scene in front of millions. I start throwing punches; praying that when we finally get back to the back that he'll be impressed with me and not want to take me to task for my insolence. However the longer we battle the more I know that I'm in deep shit. His eyes are glowing and he's pulling out all the stops. Without warning Kurt takes me down, snapping the Ankle lock on and twisting brutally. With a cry I manage to flip around and roll him over, throwing him and getting the freedom of my foot.
I try to get back to my feet first so that I can get the first strike in again, but he's too quick. He German suplexes me, not caring that when I land, I've landed on the back of my neck. A sickening crack sounded in my skull and I can't help but reach behind and grip my neck hoping that there's no real damage. I roll back and forth for a moment, testing my reactions to see if there's any numbness. I take too long and he's back to feet; staring me down like a predator does to its wounded prey before the killing blow. Shakily I get back to my feet, silently begging him with my eyes to put an end to it and already readying my plea for when we're alone. The moment I'm vertical he grabs me and pulls off another German; my neck and the back of my head once more snapping up off the mat and sending panicked and pained messages through my body.
"You really think that you can take me?" He growls as he kicks at my head, each blow hitting my ear and making it ring as my vision doubles.
"N-no more. I-I'm sorry."
I get to my knees; my brain going into autopilot as I wait for his next strike. I didn't have to wait long, he kicks me again, and this time the sole of his boot connects firmly with the side of my head and sending me back to the unforgiving mat. Once more I gain my knees and I feel Kurt finish helping me up but keeping me in a bent over position. I soon figure out why as he slams his forearm across my back and sends me crashing back down. The force of my impact slammed my teeth together and the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth as pain shoots through my gums. If only that was the only taste of blood I'd get tonight, but I know by the viciousness of his sudden attack that my mouth—and possible other parts of me are going to be dripping crimson tears as he laughs. My lower back is screaming at me and I momentarily press my hand against it in an attempt to quell the pain. I don't get much a reprieve as the ref circles and hisses to hurry up do something or to end the match. I tried get to my knees; the little voice in the back of my mind laughing at me as it brings up other images of me in this position. Always a bitch arentcha John? No wonder Kurt walks all over you. You're never going to make anything of yourself here. Kurt lifts me up for another German Suplex and before I can think it through I wrap my legs around his waist and flip forwards; rolling us then quickly grabbing Kurt's legs in a pin attempt.
All that's going through my mind is the need to win and then to get the fuck out of Dodge. Kurt seems to have other plans and kicks out just as the ref's hand is coming down on the three, shit! I'm in deep now. With a speed that I have no idea is coming from I get back to my feet and turn around hoping to take Kurt back to the mat. Too bad he was waiting for me and slams his arm across my chest; knocking the wind from me and taking me down hard. He grabs me around the neck and wrenches up, throwing me into the corner and starting to hurl his heavy fists at my face, chest, anything that he can hit and cause damage. His eyes are alight with that insane glow that I've only seen once before—right before he shredded my back to ribbons with my own belt. My head is spinning and my legs give way, the only thing slowing my descent is my ass hitting the turn buckles in succession. I want to bad to beg, to plead with him to stop, that I'm sorry and to assure him this won't happen again. Too bad I don't get a chance to say anything, he's yelling now, his foot landing harder and harder on my chest and I'm worried that soon it'll crack a rib that'll pierce my lung or my heart and I'll slowly die here in the ring as the people cheer thinking that it's part of the show.
"You thought you would make a name for yourself against me!?!" He screams as he aims another boot to my chest. "You're nothing, NOTHING! I made you Cena and I sure as hell can remove you from this company."
He stomps me a couple more times before I get short reprieve. I shake my head to try and get some sort of hold on my rattled bearings but the moment I get enough power to raise my head, it's snapped to the side from Kurts' palm landing hard against my cheek; a burning red hand print left for all to see. Dazed I raise my fist as if to punch but it doesn't connect and I can hear him laughing at me as he yanks me back up and sets me up for yet another suplex. I'm not even given time to arch from the mat after coming crashing down, Kurt covers me and it's only my stupid pride that makes me roll my shoulder. I know that the longer this match draws on, the more I'm going to get it when we hit the hotel. Maybe I can hide behind Mark or his buddy Glenn. They're known to stick up for us little guys. Are you that big of a pussy that you can't even defend yourself? Hah! You might as well go pack your bags after Kurt's done giving you what you have coming and go home. The voice is cut off as my head his grabbed and a front face lock applied, the wind being cut off as Kurt moves his arm just enough to make it a choke.
"You little piss-ant. The next time I hit you, you stay down. You're nothing now and you ain't ever going to be anything."
Blackness is starting to edge in on the corners of my vision and I know that I have to get out of this hold before I'm nothing more than an unconscious lump on the mat. Somehow I not find the strength but I also manage to get to my feet; lifting Kurt up and then back body dropping him. The small burst of power leaves me drained and we both go down; my chest aching from the stomping and constant thudding my heart against my ribs. We struggle to our feet and he goes to strike but I've had enough. I'm done with this—with him. I unload on his face, my anger and helplessness giving me more force behind my hits and he's stumbling. I can see the change in his eyes, he knows that I've hit my boiling point and I can see almost the exact moment when the thought of that this might not end the way he wants enters his brain. Out of desperation he grabs my arm and throws me to the ropes intending on taking my head off when I rebound. Not gonna happen Kurt. You've been in control too fucking long; I've been your whipping boy for far too fucking long. A flying forearm and we're both once more on the mat, but instead of the nerves that had had me in their icy and paranoid grip, I feel free; there's nothing now that can stop the momentum that I've built up. Take a bow Kurt, your ass is mine. We both scramble to our feet, this time I'm the one grabbing him and tossing him into the ropes. On his rebound I grab him by the neck and hoist him high; slamming him down then covering; victory pulsing through my veins as the ref drops down and starts the count.
Once more at the very last moment he kicks out. Oh no you fucker. You're going to be the one limping away this time. With a smirk that I can't help I get back to my feet, intent on finally asserting my own dominance over the man that has been a thorn in my side. Fire erupts in my face as he digs his fingers in and rakes them down; his nails scrabbling against my skin in a last ditch effort to hang onto the small thread of power that he has. With a groan I try to shake it off, but Kurt quickly snatches me up and I know what he's thinking; Angle Slam. With a kick I go sliding down his back, smiling as I wrap my arm around his neck and plant him with a DDT. I grab his leg, and whisper in his ear, smiling as I feel his breath hitch.
"Who's the bitch now Kurt?"
He rolls his shoulder, but it's a weak attempt so I grab him again; another kick out, but it's really just wearing him down. He has to move my weight therefore taxing his own small reserve of power. One last time I hook his leg; thinking that this is going to get me the three, but again at the last possible moment he kicks out and we both get back up, watching each other for a split second before making our moves. He backs up into a corner and I see my opening; with a triumphant smile I grab his wrist, fully intending on whipping him into a corner. Obvious he has the same idea and the move is reversed with me ending up back first in the corner. He takes a step back and charges at me; giving me only a few seconds to move. He hits the metal post and I can hear the crack of his shoulder from my position. As he stumbles back I grab him in a sloppy school boy roll up, smiling as he spits curses at me. I have this; there is no way he's getting out of this. Fuck! How the hell does he keep rolling out? He tries to hurry to his feet but this time I know what's going to keep him down. I grab him in a small package and hold tight, this has to be the three count. Of course once that thought crosses my mind the fear from earlier comes back, I might win this match and show to the world that I'm stronger—better than Kurt but once he gets his hands on me, I'm going to be nothing more than black and blue body lying amongst cold sheets dyed pink with my own blood.
It's back and forth for a few minutes after that, but soon he manages to get me down and I feel him mount my back for a moment before grabbing my both my arms and yanking them back. I squawk in pain and find myself being manipulated until I'm in some sort of contrived back slide. There's no way out now, I'm done for. The moment the ref's hand hits the three Kurt lets me go; hissing in my ear.
"You think you're tough shit boy? We'll see how tough you are when your back is nothing more than bleeding hamburger while your screaming is muffled by the pillow that I'm holding it over your face."
Words, nothing but words yet they send fear skittering back through my body. Kurt can and will make those harsh words come true, yet even as it scares me and makes my knees buckle I can't help the sickening feeling of excitement as it tightens my stomach. He does his little turn around the ring and I suck it up, plastering a smile on my face as I extend my hand, a sickly smile on my face. He looks at me, his face drawn up in some sort of 'tch, right look' for the crowds but his eyes, his cold eyes promise lots of pain and I'm not sure I'm going to survive it this time. I stand in the ring as he slides out, hamming it up for the fans and hoping that the longer I put off heading back stage the more likely I'm going to be able to escape before he can get his hands on me. Unfortunately the plan backfires on me and he comes back down the ramp as the fans taunt him for being a bad sport. Of course maybe me motioning that I was so close to beating him didn't help either, or the fact that I was in actuality showing the fans how big Kurt is in the man-meat department. If I had just kept my mouth shut and just left the ring, but it's too late for regrets now. I get in the patented 'I'm-ready-come-and-get-some' position. He's standing outside the ring, his smile still eerie as he just stares me down.
He waves his hands in a dismissive manner and he turns around, heading back up the ramp. I let out a sigh, smiling as I shake my head. The ref looks at me and motions minutely with his head that it's time to hit the bricks. I swallow hard and make my way back stage, my eyes darting everywhere as I step into the hustle of the backstage crew and other talent. Kurt's nowhere to be seen so I hurry the shower, thinking that maybe if I get ready and be waiting for him that I'll not suffer as much tonight as he takes his pound of flesh from my back and thighs. The locker room itself is quiet—to quiet for it being where everyone was housed and just as the cold feeling of dread trickles down my spine and makes turn I find myself slammed against the cold metal lockers. I know it's in my best interest to go limp and take what Kurt's doing to me, my resistance will only earn me more of a beating but I can't help but struggle. My head is shoved forwards and dark consumes as I feel sticky warmth cover my face.
When I come too later I'm bound to the bed and my arms and legs are screaming in pain, but those screams are drowned out by a whistling that gets louder before ending in a sickening 'shhst' that accompanies a white-hot burning strike to my back. I go to scream, needing to cry out to try and get some help, but there's something that feels like sweat sock shoved deep in my mouth, the cotton tickling the back of my throat and triggering my gag reflex. A pitiful whimper escaped me and I hear Kurt laugh. Something hard bobs against my ass and I know what's going to happen next. I feel cool leather slide around my throat and pull tight as I'm slammed into; my muffled scream cut off by the tightening of the leather until I'm certain that I'm going to pass out. Too bad Kurt knows what he's doing and lets the collar or whatever in hell he's using slip and I fill my lungs full of precious air. He's riding me mercilessly; each hard thrust shoving me forwards until my face is smashed against the head board; my vision blurring as he speeds up his thrusts, making my head repeatedly slam into the unforgiving wood as stars dance in my eyes.
Despite the pain however I can't stop the whimpers and moans that are—thankfully—muffled by my gag. Kurt's thrusts are speeding up and I know it's only a matter of time before he blows and I can't help but pray for it be over soon; I can feel the blood from my back crawling sluggishly down my back and I can only image the sick crimson runnels that are left in it's wake, snaking over my skin and smeared where it meets Kurt's fingers that are clamped tightly on my waist. The leather around my neck tightens again and I'm pulled back as much as my bonds will allow; Kurt howling as I feel his hot essence firing deep into me. The engorged head of his spasming cock keeps brushing against that hidden spot that makes me shudder and cum reluctantly, my own sound of completion drowned by Kurt's. Nails rake down my back and over my ass, and I whimper as I try to move away. That little move earned me another raking; this one taking skin with it and making me cry brokenly. Buckling the leather tightly so that I have to work to breathe, Kurt pulls out and flops down on the bed; asleep instantly. Silent tears course down my face and I hand my head; my blood and tears soaking the sheets until my vision from earlier came true. Amongst icy cold sheets I finally pass from the world of consciousness; another footmark in the history of the business and another notch in Kurt Angle's belt.
A/N 2.0: So there it is. Not your typical Cena fic. But my Cena muse requested it after watching his debut match against Angle. That and the fact that my Show muse has chased off all the others for the time being, I decided to give in and let Cena have his way. Anyways, to those that have made it to the end here, please don't kill me and I hope that I was able to write Cena convincingly enough in the first person pov. Once more much lovage to you all. *Throws Taker/Kane Snuggies*