I think it started the night Rusev put the chain into his mouth and bent that beautiful body backwards. I wanted to be the one on top of him. Probably for the best I wasn't, I would have wanted to ride him then and there, crowd be damned. For me, he wouldn't have screamed in pain, but in pleasure. As it was, I nearly gave myself away watching. People say McMahon faps to him, but that's not true at all. Me, on the other hand...
To be entered into a program with him was almost too much. I knew I'd have to keep things under control, I didn't want him to be afraid of me. My heart... among other things... swelled every time he put his body unquestioningly into my hands, trusting that I wouldn't hurt him. Over time the crowds turned on him, shouting that he deserved it even while I beat him bloody. I turned my anger at them back out on him, giving him more for his performance; he gave me his all, bumped and sold like death. It was synergy like none other, I hadn't even captured it with Sami. Maybe it was because the crowd hadn't loved that in the same way, but I don't think so. It was all about him.
But someone loved it too much.
"They expect me...," I began slowly, not knowing how to say it other than plainly, "to take you."
He tensed at that, his jaw tightening.
"Actually, they expect one of us to take the other. But I'm guessing you're not up to that."
Silently, warily, he shook his head.
"You don't want to let me. I understand." And I did, but it wasn't going to do him any good. "If we don't, if I don't, they're going to do it instead." Still no answer from him, so I forged ahead. "I'm not going to let them gang rape me, Roman. And there is no way in hell I'm going to watch them do it to you."
As my meaning sunk in, his dark eyes widened slightly. He didn't want to believe it, maybe couldn't. Outside of the ring, I'd made sure never to be anything other than a giant teddy bear to him. I didn't really want that to end, but I knew what those sons of bitches would do to him. Better to destroy the trust he had in me, than for them to destroy him entirely.
I moved towards him.
Roman's fast for his size. So am I. I caught him by the wrist and hauled him back towards me as he tried to duck out of the way. Still holding on, I pressed him back against the wall, pinning him there with my own weight as he whimpered. Using my free hand to cup his jaw, I tilted his head up so that he was looking at me. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. I could feel him trembling beneath me.
And then he exploded, shoving at me with his free hand and landing a vicious kick to my thigh. It hurt, but I was relieved he was fighting back. Whenever I let myself fantasize about taking him, it was in the ring, fighting. I didn't want him passive or broken.
Releasing him, I slowly stalked after him. My beautiful prey. I wasn't worried about what he would do; at this point he could only make me want him more. The bastards had given me motivation that I never would have found for myself; I had to have him.
Closing again. This time I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to me, deliberately ripping it as I did so. I wanted to undress him slowly. I'd never forgotten Hunter, and then Randy, stripping him of his vest as he lay helpless in the ring all those years ago. It had been such a tease; sensual dishevelment. I appreciated the view I'd given myself of his chest, pleased that he made no attempt to hide himself. I smiled, running my tongue across my lips. He should know, I decided, that I genuinely desired him. Not that it would help, but he deserved that much.
Deliberately, I almost let him slip away, then lunged and caught hold of his leg. Off-balance, he crashed to the floor-and just like that I was on top of him. And as I pinned his wrists, I felt something... unexpected.
"You're a sub," I said in wonder.
Roman only glared at me, breath coming hard beneath the additional strain of my weight. But that wasn't the only thing that was hard, and neither was I.
"You don't want it," I deduced, about a million little things slotting into place. "But I can make you like it." It would still be rape, I knew, but maybe a little less unpleasant for him. Me too, for that matter. Still holding his wrists in one hand, I ripped away the rest of his shirt with the other, pulling the material free of his body. Despite everything, my hands were icy, and he gasped as I stroked a hand across his chest. Slowly, I teased the nipple that was nearly lost in a sea of ink, then lowered my mouth to it.
"No!" he cried, even as he arched beneath me. He was fighting, but that wasn't all there was to it. With his flesh still in my mouth I glanced upwards at him as I moved a hand... and saw him shut his eyes, flinching away. Something about the action disturbed me, and sent a sick feeling deep into the pit of my stomach. Someone had done this to him before. I released his nipple with a wet-sounding pop.
"Who hurt you?" I demanded. Hurting a submissive was just wrong; their bodies and willingness were a gift. The only person he'd ever really been rumoured to have been with was Dean, and I knew better than that already. Ambrose loved him, there was no doubt of that, but they didn't behave like lovers.
Dean. He would kill me for this.
Roman didn't answer, not that I expected him to. He was watching me without actually looking at me, going very still. Gathering his strength, I thought, and wasn't surprised when he tried to kick out from beneath me. In the ring it would have counted, but here, he'd need to throw me aside to get rid of me, and he wasn't strong enough for that. Still holding his wrists with one hand, I shifted my weight upwards and worked my other hand beneath myself, searching for the fastenings to his pants. I ignored his thrashing and patiently undid them, then slipped a hand into the folds of fabric. He was so hot beneath my hand... and losing his mind. I only dimmly registered a click somewhere near my head as his having tried to bite me. I couldn't really blame him for that; what other way did he have to fight? And despite my desire not to hurt him, I knew I would in the end: I was too big for him.
"This isn't your fault," I said gruffly, then realised it wasn't quite the right approach. I changed my tactic just slightly. "You're helpless," I whispered, allowing the ghost of a smile to cross my face. "I've got you pinned and spread beneath me. You're mine, Roman."
He was breathing fast now, and as I worked his pants down his legs he moaned low in his throat. Fear? Desire? Maybe both. Getting his pants off entirely would take some effort, and I needed him to relax more before I could try. Taking his hot length into my hand I eased upwards again, gently stroking him as I kissed the underside of his jaw, working my way down his throat. His pulse pounded frantically beneath my lips and tongue, delicate as a butterfly.
Putting all thoughts of myself aside, I focused only on pleasuring him. I'd get my own soon enough. "Go ahead and try to fight," I growled softly. "It'll never be enough, you'll never get away from me." Under the circumstances, this counted as foreplay. Emphasising his helplessness took away the blame of what was happening to him, and hopefully, the shame of his response. "You're so weak," I crooned at him, phrasing it as if it were praise. "There's nothing you can do to stop me. I'll tease you, and taste you, and take you." With the first two I made sure to do exactly that; at the third, I slid my hand between his legs and lightly fingered his entrance.
He nearly killed himself trying to get away from me again; this time I let him fight until exahaustion wrecked him. As he lay panting, I releaed his wrists for the first time, swiftly changing position to remove his shoes. Then, finally, I was able to strip the last of his clothing away, leaving him naked before me. He was glorious, even the scar that he so painstakingly hid. On impulse I kissed it, then traced my tongue across it, resisting the urge to nip him. He made a half-hearted effort to strike me, but his strength was gone.
Moving slowly, I shifted position, first spreading his legs and then easing myself between them. I raised my eyes to find him staring at me; he mouthed the word "no" as he shook his head weakly. But there was no fight left in him. Positioning him, I spat on my fingers so that I could ease into him and stretch him a litle; the whimper he made then was nothing but pain and fear. I knew I was right; someone had hurt him before. But I couldn't stop, not with what they would do to him. And truthfully, I didn't want to stop, I was aching with need.
I took hold of him as I mounted him, determined to give him what pleasure I could against the pain. Kissing him, I swallowed down his cries as I thrust into him. He moved beneath me; I couldn't tell if he was struggling or caught up in the moment. I had spent so long building him up that I knew I wouldn't last long, but maybe that was for the best, for him. Despite everything, I managed to bring us to mutual climax, my yell drowning out his as it bounced off the walls. Not wanting to see the look on his face, I rolled off of him and lay on my side, holding him close in an attempt to quell his shaking. Smoothing his hair I kissed his head and hoped that I could remind him of Dean, rather than whomever had done this to him before. But even they paled in comparison to this. Whatever happened now, I couldn't let him be hurt again.