Haven't done a one-shot in a while and this came to me watching Raw. Be warned, it's probably the smuttiest and most nonsensical thing I've written so far... but if you like smutty nonsense, you're in for a treat :P
"OK, Dean you're good to go. Just avoid moving your neck too much for the next few days," Doctor Sampson concluded. Raw had just gone off the air, with Seth Rollins and his Authority cronies yet again using their superior numbers to lay quite the beating on one Dean Ambrose. A curb stomp to a briefcase may have been small potatoes in comparison to what had gone before, but it was one hell of a blow for a recently-concussed head to take.
"Don't move my neck too much, what the fuck does that mean? Like, I can't roll over in bed or I should just avoid heavy metal concerts for a while? How much neck movement are we talking here?" Dean questioned rapidly, causing the doctor to sigh slightly, seemingly trying to do downplay his despair lest he become the latest victim of the Lunatic Fringe, who had been living up to that moniker more than ever of late.
"Just avoid any heavy impacts. Look, I don't know why I bother saying any of this, I told you to take three months off after the cinderblock incident and you barely took one," he replied frustratedly.
"That's because, like I told you at the time, the only real remedy for something like that is to get back in the ring as soon as humanly possible and make the snivelling little rat responsible bleed from every internal organ!" Dean ranted abruptly, causing the trainer's room rest bed to shake violently.
"Umm... I'll see you at Smackdown," the doctor murmured hastily and backed out of the door, his work for the evening done and not a moment too soon.
"Don't move my neck, what a load of... does he realise he's talking to a man who's been stabbed with needles, slammed onto barbed wire, sliced open with an electric saw..."
"Are you talking to yourself?" a voice suddenly asked out of nowhere. Blatanly disregarding the doctor's warning, Dean whipped his head around in the direction of the doorway (which was admittedly rather painful) to find Alicia Fox reclining on the frame, still dressed in her ring gear.
"Don't be embarrassed, I talk to myself all the time. The most interesting people in the world never run out of things to say, even when they're by themselves," she declared, taking her customary long strides across the room while Dean watched her with bemusement. He might have been a little left-of-centre himself, but he was damned if he knew what went on this young woman's head.
"Aww, did Deany-weenie hurt himself?" she cooed leaning down toward the bed and pinching his cheek as Dean did his best to resist.
"Didn't you see?" he asked as he finally broke free of her grasp.
"Nope, I was too busy watching what me and my new best friend did to AJ, over and over and over again," Alicia smiled gleefully, almost bouncing on the spot with delight. Manic pleasure from causing another person pain, now that was something Dean could relate to. That didn't make her any less annoying though.
"Well, I kinda had my head wedged between a metal case and the boot of a 220-pound man, it's a little more painful than getting your weave pulled out or whatever," he drawled dismissively.
Alicia frowned, pouted and placed her hands on her hips. Dean smirked, and conceded to himself that this sight was indeed rather cute.
"Excuse me?" Alicia questioned in a disgruntled tone, leaning her face close to his while keeping her hands firmly at her sides.
"I'm tough. I'm really tough, look at..." she trailed off as she flexed her right bicep in his direction, causing his smirk to grow yet wider.
"...Huh, see? And, I'm a former Divas champion..."
"An undefined one, if I recall," Dean quipped. Another frown. Very, very cute indeed.
"Slip of the tongue, it happens, but anyway..." Alicia rambled on.
"...Do you remember Eve? How about Kaitlyn? Or Kelly Kelly? Or Beth Phoenix? They didn't wanna leave, oh no, I made them. They knew they didn't have the guts to face me again."
She nodded proudly with a wistful smile as Dean began to shake his head. He liked to think he'd maintained some sort of grounding in reality throughout his twisted and tortured existence. Here before him stood a bona-fide, 24-carat nutjob. A very pretty an oddly charming nutjob, admittedly; that was becoming increasingly apparent as he watched the disappointment return to her face.
"Why's that so hard to believe?" she spat.
"Beth Phoenix was afraid of you?" he repeated sceptically.
He'd clearly accidentally pushed the red button. Next thing he knew Alicia was astride him pushing him back onto the rest bed and slapping him wildly about the face, making a noise that sounded remarkably like a literal cat fight.
"Why aren't you taking me seriously?!" she cried, now abandoning the slapping to pull at random strands of his gelled brown hair.
"It's... aagh! Not that... ow! It's not that I don't think you're talented..." Dean managed to splutter.
"...it's just that... geez, stop it! I think you might be exaggerating the... are you crying?!"
She was, quite a bit in fact. As typically bizarre an overreaction as this was Dean couldn't help but feel a little moved by her distress, just a little. Did this really mean so much to her?
"I really want us to be friends, Dean..." she insisted in a lost, little-girl voice, allowing him to sit back upright as she remained straddled across his thighs.
"...I totally do. But that won't happen if you don't respect me."
"Well, don't worry. I do. I do respect you, Alicia," he replied, and with no hint of sarcasm. It was hard not to admire someone this comfortable with being absolutely deranged. He'd always said the world would be a much better place if so many people didn't kid themselves into thinking they were well-adjusted human beings.
"For real?" she asked.
"For real," he affirmed.
"Pinky promise?" she added.
"Pinky... wait, what?" he didn't know what that meant. Sounded a little rude.
"I get my little finger, you get your little finger and, voila!" Alicia instructed, linking the pinkies of their right hands together.
"There, now you can't lie to me ever again or I'll hate you forever," she proclaimed. Dean chuckled. Alicia's expression suggested she wasn't in fact joking.
"So, now we're friends..." Alicia began.
"...What'cha wanna do?"
"Well, I don't think friends straddle one another," Dean smiled awkwardly and with a little regret. There were worse socially uncomfortable situations to be in, that was for certain.
"Best friends do..." Alicia answered with a wicked smile, and leant forward so their faces were almost touching.
"Wanna be my best friend, Dean?"
This was so wrong, so ridiculous, so absurd, but romance in the nice and normal sense was oh so overrated as far as Dean was concerned. He wasn't sure what would happen next, but he knew he couldn't wait to find out.
"I think I do," he smiled back, moving his lips to hers.
Alicia met him with a deep, tender kiss, slowly grinding her hips into his middle as their tongues began to touch. Dean roamed along the edges of her tight torso with his hands, while she scooped hers under his tanktop, extricating herself from his mouth to guide it over his head.
"Better lock this door," she suddenly muttered in realisation, dismounting from him and wandering back to pull the catch. Dean joined her on his feet, only for her to turn around and fire up with indignation.
"SIT BACK DOWN! I'M IN CHARGE!" she snapped suddenly. Dean humoured her with a chastised nod as he slumped back down on the bed. He had no problem whatsoever with this.
"Be patient," she cautioned, raising her finger. Dean watched on transfixed as she raised one long, shapely leg and planted her foot on the bed beside him, then the other, to remove her wrestling boots. Then she turned away from him; bending over and guiding her trunks down to her ankles to expose her plump, round bottom. Dean let out a subconscious 'whoa,' causing Alicia to smile at him over her shoulder.
"I know, right?" she beamed proudly. Keeping her back to him, she lifted her top over her head, then strode confidently towards him, fully naked. Dean shook his head in disbelief. Today had taken a very unexpected turn for the better. He definitely wasn't going to follow the doctor's advice now.
As she stood directly ahead of him, he made a grab toward her full, perky breasts, only to be swatted away.
"No touching!" she ordered, before her hungry smile returned.
"It's your turn now," she said.
Only fair, Dean thought, standing up as she took his place sat on the bed. He watched her eyes trace each contour of his sculpted chest and arms, even treating her to a rather uncharacteristic flex of his biceps as he lowered his hands down to his waist, slowly undoing his belt and letting his jeans fall.
Having already dispensed with his shoes during his medical examination, he stepped out of the trousers and finally lowered his boxer shorts mere inches from her face, a blessed relief to his throbbing manhood which had been threatening to break loose almost ever since she first made contact with him. His striptease lacked the flair and panache of hers, he thought, but she seemed sufficiently impressed. Alicia's gaze fell to his crotch and her eyebrows raised appreciatively.
"I know, right?" he quipped, cockily echoing her earlier words.
"Now... sit back on the bed..." having been momentarily waylaid by this sight, Alicia was back to her bossy self.
"...You're gonna show me just what a good friend you are," she crooned, straddling him once again.
"Did Paige have to do this?" Dean queried cheekily.
"In her dreams," Alicia laughed.
"So, what do you want me to do?" Dean asked, softly but eagerly.
"Use your imagination," she replied.
Dean knew where he wanted to visit first; bringing his arms around her upper back he leant her forward slightly as he lowered his face into her firm chest, taking her erect right nipple in his mouth.
"Mmm... good start," Alicia murmured in arousal as he worked his tongue around the areola, only glancing the nipple itself for tantalisingly brief moments, each one appearing to increase the moist feeling against his thighs as her body slowly began to submit itself to him. Once he had repeated the motion with her other breast, she lifted herself off of him once again.
"Now... on your back..." she breathed softly in his ear, followed by a kiss to his cheek. Dean swung his legs around and reclined on the narrow bed; it was the hardly the most comfortable venue but it would have to do.
"I've got a great idea," Alicia suddenly piped up. Dean waited in wonder and a slight amount of concern as she walked to the far corner of the room. She was after all, completely off her rocker, and the room contained all manner of needles and knives. His own tastes in the bedroom were a little unorthodox, but that was a step too far even for him.
He sighed with relief as she produced two water bottles from the fridge, pounding them together in her hands as she often did with soft drinks during her in-ring meltdowns. So long as it didn't preclude her beating the crap out of him, he agreed this was a good idea.
Discarding the caps, she knelt over him and lifted the bottles over her head. So spellbound was he watching the liquid shimmer and glisten across every curve and muscle on her willowy frame, he didn't notice her preparing to douse him in the remaining water.
"Careful! You never heard of shrinkage?" he shivered has the water splashed down his chest and down to his groin.
"Don't worry, Deany, you only need your mouth for this next part," Alicia said as she lowered her abdomen down towards his face, barely giving him a second to contemplate what was about to happen before he found himself submerged between her thighs. Not that he was complaining.
Soon he was working his tongue across her tight entrance, breaching her folds more and more with each lick until he delved right in, his hands reaching behind her and grabbing a hold of the ample flesh of her backside as he brought her right down on top of him, sucking and releasing, pausing occasionally to savour the taste and her ecstatic moans. Every so often it crossed his mind that all this was occurring at an arena, where mere minutes ago his former best friend knocked him unconscious, lending the whole thing an air of utter surrealism.
After a few minutes Alicia lifted herself off of him and knelt either side of his legs. Dean glanced up at her moistened body. She fondled his penis carefully, practically marvelling at it with her eyes and making the bizarre tiger-like growls he'd heard her make in the ring on occasion. It was far from a turn-off, he had to admit.
"OK..." she panted,
"...Main event time."
She spun around and rolled onto all fours, turning her head back to him and almost tauntingly asking:
"Ready?"
Rising to his knees behind her, he grabbed lightly onto her hips as his member breached her walls from behind. He tried his best to pace himself, but she was very tight, and he rather well-endowed even if he did say so himself. It was over in minutes, but minutes were all they needed to drive each other to their frenzied, wild climaxes. He felt her begin to judder against him, her theatrical moans dying down as the pleasure became unintelligible, the added friction causing him to also near his peak, pulling out just before his moment of release and using his fingers to bring Alicia to hers. The last thing he or the world at large needed was Fox-Ambrose offspring.
"Wow... hope no one heard that. Actually, no, I hope they did; that was friggin' awesome. Damn, looks like we've got some cleaning up to do," Dean mused as Alicia turned to kneel opposite him on the bed.
"Yup, looks like it..." she agreed with a girlish giggle.
"...and yeah, it was awesome. You're definitely my boyfriend now."
"Boyfriend?!" Dean echoed in dismay. He knew he should have at least tried to help his brain override his loins. What had he gotten himself into?