Title: Curiosity
Author: THE Kid Hardy
Disclaimer: I do not own any character that is affiliated with World Wrestling Entertainment in any way, shape, or form. The only character I own is the anonymous character.
Author's Note: This is one of my first forays into supernatural erotica, and I had originally intended on molding this into a one-shot fic. Fortunately/unfortunately, my brain went batshit on me, so I ended up with quite a bit more story than I intended, and so I had to break it into a few chapters to get down all my ideas, and I'm still not finished yet! Here is the first chapter of this story; please feel free to tell read, review, and let me know what you think. Thanks!
Ever since I was a little girl, I've always been nervous, and even a little curious about people and things in life. I was always the eager, studious type in school, never afraid to raise my hand and ask a question of my teachers. Even in college, I was always the one who would take charge in a group or team project, always the first to raise my hand, first to meet the professor after class in their office or while they were gathering their things to head to their next class to ask questions about our assignments.
My mother had always told me, even when I was a child, that I was a curious little thing, and that it was going to get the better of me when I grew up. "You're so nosy about everything, it's going to get you into trouble you can't get yourself out of," she would always warn me. But I would never pay attention.
After graduating from college, I began seriously pursuing a career in the wrestling world, my secret dream job. The world of professional wrestling had always been something that had piqued my interest, even as a little girl, and had been something that I had wanted to do my entire life. I had wanted to sate my curiosity, get my feet wet, so to speak, and so I joined a wrestling academy to learn the craft that so many learned, but so few actually got. It hadn't been long after graduating from the academy that I was scouted at a local Indy show by a WWE agent, and offered a tryout down in Florida; within months, I was packing my bags and leaving cloudy, dull, gray, industrialized Philadelphia, for the sunny, warm, lively streets of Tampa, Florida.
During those first few months, it had been hard, of course. The training was intense, and I had lived most of those months in constant pain from learning various bumps and holds, in addition to running the ropes whenever I disappointed my trainers. What had really made it difficult was that I barely knew anyone in the area, and those that I had known on a first-name basis were people I had admired from afar. Chris Jericho and Dolph Ziggler? Yeah, those guys are pretty cool to hang around with, and even good enough to masturbate to in the darkness of my apartment, where no one could hear my quiet moans as I stroked myself to climax thinking of fucking either one or both men at the same time. But I didn't dare think of even attempting to act on my instincts and put the moves on either man, to see which of the two could whet my appetite, sate my curiosity, and get me off. Just as I had gone traveling down the halls of our training facility a few months into training for the big leagues, my eyes had been met with quite the surprise.
I watched, mesmerized, as Jericho had his head thrown back casually against the wall of that empty locker room, a deep, throaty growl escaping through his perfect lips as Dolph sucked him off, taking him all the way into his mouth, until Jericho's balls rested on his chin—literally and figuratively—and blew him until Jericho's knees nearly gave out as he came hard into Dolph's mouth.
I couldn't wait until I got home after practice to get myself off; that night, I'd been so turned on by the two of them, I had to masturbate in the shower in the women's locker room, playing with my nipples and touching myself until I climaxed underneath the cascade of hot water, while I envisioned myself having passionate, untamed sex with a beautiful, faceless, perfect stranger.
Down the road about another year or so, a few months before I got the call to the main roster, my curiosity had gotten the better of me again, this time with the lovely Layla. I had been fascinated with the beautiful woman ever since her days in the Diva Search, and even as a member of that god-awful Extreme Exposé crap. As much as I hated Kelly Kelly and that other random, nameless bitch, I would always tune in, because my attention had been drawn to the vivacious, brown-skinned little hellcat. There had been many a time during my time in developmental where I had envisioned myself between that stunning woman's legs, tonguing her clit and lapping up all her juices while she moaned my name, digging her nails into my scalp, her back arching as she came for me. Every time we wrestled against one another in sparring sessions, I had to restrain myself from reaching out and cupping a beautiful, pert little breast or cupping that perfect ass possessively, because I knew that once I'd had one little taste of the decadent Layla, I had to have more.
Fortunately for me, Layla was curious, too.
Before she returned to active competition, we used to meet in her house every few days, and we would do random things as friends; hanging out, shopping, playing video games, eye-fucking random strangers as we walked the streets of downtown Miami. Afterwards, we would go back to her place, and spend the rest of the night messing around, eating junk food and then eating each other before collapsing, boneless, in a fit of laughter at the end of the night. It was never anything to be taken seriously, because the two of us were never serious about one another; it was fun, plain and simple…a way to sate our curiosity.
Finally, the time came when I was called up to the main roster. I had heard that Triple H himself had been impressed with my work as a face, and that I had outshone even the girls that had been there longer than I. Not long after my girl returned to active competition and captured the Divas Championship from that abortion of a wrestler, Nikki Bella, I joined the main roster as the newest Diva.
That was the night that I saw him backstage… That beautiful stranger that I had been fantasizing about for months, that faceless man who had taken hold of my dreams and holding my lady parts prisoner, under his control, forcing me to think of no other man but him while I played with myself.
I first saw him in Catering, watching him set up a plate for himself at the table where all the food was for the wrestlers and road agents backstage during the show. He had been talking with John Cena, probably over their Nexus angle from two years ago, when his eyes looked up and locked on to mine. My breath caught in my throat, and my panties instantly began to moisten, simply from our eyes connecting.
I knew right then and there, that I had to have this man. There was nothing that I wouldn't do, nothing that I wouldn't say, to make sure that this lovely, breathtaking piece of male was firmly in my hotel room, in my bed, tonight.
Almost as if he could read my thoughts, or could just feel the desire radiating off of my body and feel me literally undressing him in public, he gave a small, smug smile before excusing himself and walking away from Cena, with a promise to meet him later after the show to catch up more.
I'll be damned if I don't make it to meet up with him after the show first.