Finn Balor first noticed Sasha Banks staring as he made his way backstage after he won the title. His paint was smeared. He was breathless and sweaty. She was another person among the throng, but he saw the glint of her glare just from the edge of his own, even through the crowd and chaos. He breezed past her to go shake hands and shower, but he still felt the pin prick of her look on his skin hours later.
He noticed her again days afterward, when he was just in the bandana, not the full paint. She was leaning against a wall backstage as he was rushing out to start his entrance. As he walked past he glanced at her, hoping she'd shy and look away so he could walk on. But she held his gaze, stared right back into him as he rushed past. Whatever she saw in him, she didn't flinch
This time, he was just in the leather jacket and championship belt for a tag match, waiting for the cue on his alternate theme, nervous over the newness. He was way inside his own head, and didn't even notice she was standing right next to him until suddenly he felt thin fingers over his wrist and a little bit of pressure. It was Sasha. He looked over and down at her, but she stared straight ahead as if he wasn't even there, like this wasn't even real. He opened his mouth to say something, but just as he began, his cue hit. She released his wrist unceremoniously and he looked back at her as he walked out.
He was so distracted. All he could think about during his entrance ritual was her being backstage. Did she stay and watch from behind the curtain? Did she walk away disinterested? Would she be there when it was over? What game was she playing? Where did she ever learn to be so bold…
He opened his leather jacket seductively to show off the belt to the crowd, but all he could feel was her phantom gaze burning through him. The residue of those little fingers. Her boldness was stirring the demon deep in him, bubbles of something hot and nefarious ready to burst. But he knew if he let it take over, let it get the best of him, let it blossom into its full blackness, it would just bring pain.
When he finished and walked to the back, breathless and stressed out, she was nowhere to be found. His head was on a swivel as he moved through the hallway towards the locker room, hoping to catch that glare again. He rolled his wrists, feeling wet skin against the edge of his leather sleeves, hoping those little fingers would make another sudden repeat appearance to apply their gentle pressure. But she was gone.
A tinge of relief washed over him. From a distance she had always been cute and a bit mysterious, but now she had stirred the darkest parts of him, and he wasn't sure what would happen if they got close again.
When he finally pushed the door open to the men's locker room, there she was. She was sitting on a bench, legs crossed, leaning forward a bit. Graceful but distant, powerful. Her head was down, and her face obscured by that wall of wavy hair. She was wearing leggings and a sports bra. She must have been in the gym while he was performing. He felt a faint wave of disappointment that she hadn't been backstage hungrily watching him show off in his leather jacket like he had idly imagined.
Just the sight of her, someone either so naive or so unafraid that she would show up here uninvited and unannounced, made it stir in him.
He walked over to his locker and tried to ignore her. Maybe she wasn't even waiting for him. He opened it and started taking out his bag, removing his tape.
Suddenly he felt her behind him, again putting those little fingers on his wrist, squeezing ever so slightly. He turned to face her.
"We can't keep playing this game, Sash."
"Who's playing games? I'm just trying to figure out what exactly you really are, Finn Balor." She said his name with a tinge of suspicion and faint mockery.
He scoffed, turning away again to fumble with his stuff.
"Because sometimes you go out there and you're this…guy. Just another guy, this handsome cocky wrestler. But then sometimes, there's something else. Suddenly, you're interesting. And I know I'm not the only one who notices it."
He dropped his knee-pads into his bag and turned again to face her, "Sash, you don't know. There's something dark in me. There's a..."
"Show me." She cut him off. Direct clear words.
He looked away, trying to steel himself. She's so bold, but she really has no idea. What it does to him. What's in store for her.
"There's some big bad monster inside of you?" She continued, campy and mocking, a bit shrill even, "So. What."
She grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket, squeezing his muscle through the material. She looked up at him and directly into his eyes, "Show me. I'm not afraid."
That glare sent him over the edge. Whatever dam was keeping his desire and the demon at bay finally broke. He grabbed her by her upper arms and slammed her against a locker. She laughed a little bit, haughty, disdainful. He was breathing heavy, looking down at her.
"You're going to have to do a lot more than that if you want me to feel something." As she said this she shifted her legs a bit so that her thigh was between his legs and rubbing against the growing bulge in his trunks.
He pushed her again against the lockers, harder this time, trying to correct her. To make her afraid. The demon was fully in control and everything felt wavy and strange. But the whole time she just stared directly at him, practically right through him.
He pulled her down to the ground, pinning her with all of his weight. The darkness and heat rose up inside of him even more. He wanted to tear her in half, rut deep into her, bruise a narrow neck. She squirmed a bit underneath his weight, and he pressed down even harder onto her to keep her still. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. She was trapped, and he knew there was no going back now. He wanted to make her regret every glance. He had to win this game.
She squirmed again underneath him as he pressed his throbbing erection against her inner thigh.
He was getting lost deeper and deeper, but still she kept her eyes fixed on him. He rubbed his hands across her tits and abs, sliding a hand under her sports bra to graze her hard nipples. She squirmed more, shuddering. Through her leggings, he rubbed her pussy with his whole palm, rough, no subtlety.
He looked down at her as he was rubbing and spoke coolly, almost glib, "There's no going back, Sasha. You did this." He dragged out the first S in her name, saying it almost like a hissed curse.
She whimpered, eyes big and wet, fixed on him. But was it real? This slight display of fear mixed now with his own doubt hit him like a ton of bricks. His weight relaxed, pressure eased, a almost subconscious giant full body exhale. He was taken aback, almost startled. He tried to get his bearings and figure her out. Was she this easy or was the demon just too powerful?
But before he knew it, she rolled, and he was flipped over onto his back. Her strong thighs were keeping his pinned together as she sat back with all of her weight onto him. She had found his weakness and capitalized. All he wanted was to see her afraid, but when she finally gave it to him, he didn't know what to do. There was no skill to that evil in him and she knew it. Guileless, spineless.
She was sitting up straight on top of him, looking down into his eyes with just the slightest dip of her head, satisfied. The sudden change in positions sent a rush of blood to his brain, everything swirling now.
She moved her hips around a little bit, brushing her pussy in leggings against his erection in trunks. All the barriers between their skin made it all that much worse. She was in control. He was stiff and in agony, and every slight movement made him inhale sharply.
She leaned all the way forward on top of him, her hair brushing over his bare chest. He started to move his arms up to try grabbing her waist to pick her up and flip her back over, but she was too fast. She snatched his arms and pinned him back down.
His heart was racing. The darkness thrashed inside of him, shrinking away with each of her movements, drowning a very dramatic death in this sea of control and desire. She breathed hotly into his thick sweaty neck.
"Your demon doesn't scare me, Finn. I know you think I'm just some little girl in way over her head. But I'm still The Boss. And you're just some guy."
Her frankness sent a chill down his spine. He felt like nothing underneath her. Even if he had 100 lbs on her, he was powerless. All his demonic desire was twisted into something else now, desperate for release, useless to fight back. She saw right through the demon and into him.
She sat up again and leaned back, using those lithe fingers to free his hard cock from his trunks. She huffed, holding the base of his cock in her hand, squeezing slightly, again that subtle pressure.
"I'm going to drain all this poison out of you, Finn." He exhaled at the prospect, exasperated.
Pressing his dick up against his stomach, she moved her hand slowly up and down the underside, grazing the head with her fingertips on each stroke. He closed his eyes and gulped, tilting his head back against the unforgiving concrete. All he wanted was to get away from her intense gaze.
Her movements were focused and slow. Those thin graceful fingers were fully in control. The sounds of his needy keening filled the empty room. She watched intently as his chest heaved up and down, watched the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard trying to keep his head above water. He was totally at her mercy, moaning boneless before her.
He opened his eyes just barely to look at her, and she was still staring right at him, still completely unafraid to look, to revel in what she was doing. She caught his glance and held it, staring back, again direct and unflinching, and that was all it took. He started to buck and wriggle.
Immediately she stopped stroking, gently clucking disapproval at his lack of control, instead now just pressing his dick firmly against his stomach. "Come on, cum for me," she cooed in a forceful whisper. And that was it. The pressure of her warm but firm and un-moving hand was the end of him. He had to let go. He shot a thick load onto his stomach with a loud agonized moan as she rubbed up and down his side with her free hand, pulling it all out of him.
She went back to stroking slowly as his sensitive cock went soft again. Every twitch and movement was agony.
He felt small, spent. Panting, dazed. They stared at each other like that for a while, cum pooled on his abdomen, her hair in disarray, damp with sweat. Ambient echoes in a noiseless room. He looked dreamy, half dead. She looked so beautiful and even more mysterious than ever, and he didn't know what to feel.
She stood up deftly, towering above him, lingering there. He sat up, positioned right by her knees, trying to collect himself. He felt the cum dripping down his skin and onto the fabric of his trunks. Ruined. She looked down at hi, right into his eyes. Her gaze was now even more knowing and emboldened than before.
"Maybe someday I'll let you make me cum. Or maybe someday you could even fuck me." His eyes widened at her words, but she turned and left before he could even begin to formulate a reply.
The Demon really was no match for The Boss.