Title: I'll See You At Summerslam
Author: TheVampireLucinda
Featuring: Shawn Michaels/Triple H; Brock Lesnar, Paul Heyman
Disclaimer: Slash! Violence! Language! Rated M!
Summary: Triple H is set to face the newly-returned Brock Lesnar in what will certainly be a brutal match at Summerslam. However, things take a turn for the worse when Lesnar and Heyman drag a certain Heartbreaker into the mix. Will Hunter be able to protect the man he loves? And will Shawn be able to deal with being protected at all?
A/N: Seriously, those two...Even in retirement, Shawn manages to steal the show! And Hunter's eyes tell such a story when he's in the ring with the Heartbreak Kid...I can't help it, haha. I can not resist writing about those two!
The large, muscular man with cold eyes and an even colder smile towered over the shorter, skinnier blond, leering down mercilessly at his soon-to-be victim.
"Shawn...The only reason you think Triple H can beat me...is because you've never been in the ring with me."
A short pause, and the arena filled with sudden tension. No one could guess the former UFC fighter's intentions, least of all the man who had already declared that this behemoth would lose in his upcoming grudge match.
However, two simple words made everything painfully clear, and a collective shudder ran down the spines of everyone in earshot, especially a certain man in the back, who had been watching the scene in the ring unfold, waiting anxiously to see if things would escalate.
"Until now."
He began to slowly advance on the lithe Heartbreaker, loving the growing fear in those deep blue eyes as he instinctively began to back away from the obvious threat.
Even the bold, fearless Mr. Wrestlemania licked his lips nervously, holding a hand out in front of him in some sort of attempt of defense.
They both knew how this would end.
As if on cue, however, before blood could be shed and bones broken, the monstrous man's primary opponent appeared, walking hurriedly and grimly to the ring to stand by his best friend.
Correction: To stand in front of his best friend.
Protecting him.
'Gotcha, Hunter.'
With a devilish laugh, Brock Lesnar looked back and forth between the two men, his ice blue eyes dancing with bad intentions. He lifted one finger and pointed at Triple H.
"I'll see you at Summerslam!" he vowed, expression hardening and grin fading. He honestly and truly wanted to hurt this man, this arrogant bastard who called himself the King of Kings.
However, he could not prevent a slow smile from taking his lips as he unexpectedly pointed to the obviously shaken Shawn Michaels.
"And you...Yeah, you." His smile widened.
"I'll see you before then."
Shawn and Hunter's expressions were a cascade of painful and powerful emotions.
Uncertainty.
Fear.
Anger.
Love.
And as far as Brock Lesnar was concerned, the match was already half-won.
Shawn Michaels sighed heavily, arms folded tight as he watched Triple H pace the floor of his office. They had just made it into the back from the ring, and the entire time they were both on edge, Lesnar's threat hanging heavily in the air over them both.
Though he would never admit it out loud, Shawn had a sinking suspicion that this was what it felt like waiting for an execution.
Hunter was even more upset than Shawn, even going so far as to lock the door behind them, and place a chair in front of the knob, jamming it from the inside.
"Hunt, I'll be fine," Shawn promised for the fifth time in ten minutes, feeling anger swell in his heart even as the fear subsided.
They both knew what Lesnar was doing: he was using Shawn to get to Triple H. He obviously knew that the two men were far more than friends, and that to attack one was to draw the wrath of the other. He was risking facing a Game blind with rage by threatening Shawn, but he was also opening the opportunity to throw the Cerebral Assassin completely off his game.
The question was, just what exactly did he plan on doing...if he'd do anything at all.
"I don't want to take that chance," Hunter explained, worry furrowing his brow and darkening his brown eyes. "Lesnar and Heyman are nuts, and will fight dirty..."
He stopped pacing long enough to notice that Shawn, still sitting atop his desk, was very quiet.
Which meant that he was also very angry.
"Shawn..."
"I'm not some frail flower to be protected," HBK said in a low tone, though his voice was steady and determined. "You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."
Knowing that he could never sway Shawn by horror stories, Triple H knelt by the desk, leaning his forehead against his best-friend-and-lover's knee.
If Shawn wouldn't listen to Hunter's reason, than maybe, just maybe, he'd listen to Hunter's heart.
The proud Showstopper seemed to soften a little at the gesture, and eventually ran a hand through Hunter's long, golden hair.
"I know you don't need me to protect you...or want me to," the Game acknowledged in a low voice. "But please, until this is over...Please don't leave my side. Lesnar is dangerous, and I'm scared as hell just imagining what he might do to you..." He swallowed hard. "He hates me, Shawn, and I know he'll do anything to hurt me...even hurt you...badly..."
HHH looked up at Shawn with pleading brown eyes, eyes that were already misting with tears. The Showstopper's face revealed nothing, but his blue eyes were soft and compassionate. He was listening.
"I couldn't forgive myself if he hurt you because of me...Please, please, let me protect you!"
Shawn was quiet for a long moment. Then, with a small smile, he climbed off the desk and embraced Hunter warmly, pulling the younger man's head against his middle.
"This is ridiculous...You begging me—on your knees, no less—to let you protect me. It's almost comical." He raised a finger when his younger lover began to protest. "But, I understand that there's nothing funny about this situation." His eyes grew hard as he spoke.
"You'll have to give me time to think, Hunt...But, in the meantime, I'll stay by your side. After all, I got myself involved in all this because I know you'll win. I know you'll beat Lesnar...and..."
Now Shawn knelt down, coming eye-to-eye with Triple H. He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, eyes, noses, and lips just barely brushing against one another's.
"Hunter...You keep talking about protecting me, but...Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for not protecting you?"
HHH blinked in confusion. "What?"
"That bastard broke your arm not too long ago...I should have been here..." Shawn sighed deeply. "If I'm honest, I threw myself into your match not just because I know you can win...but also so that I could protect you...if you happen to need me, that is."
Hunter was stunned for a long moment, and then broke into a wide smile. "Shawn...You're insane." He leaned back and sat on his tush, throwing his arms behind him for support. His brown eyes glittered as he looked at the man he loved more than anyone else in the world. "I knew you'd get involved somehow!"
Shawn grinned and shrugged. "Heck, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you take on that monster all on your own?" With a mischievous laugh, he crawled over to Hunter, gently pushing the blond onto his back on the carpeted floor before nimbly straddling his waist. He lowered his head so that their lips just briefly touched, that oh-so-familiar electric shock going through them both at the teasing contact.
"And I'd be an even worse boyfriend if I didn't say hello properly after all this time."
While the two members of Degeneration X enjoyed one another's company, Brock Lesnar sat alone in his hotel room. He shooed Paul Heyman away right after the show had ended, and now he had several hours to himself to think.
Which was just the right amount of time to begin dreaming up ways to torture Shawn Michaels...and, by extension, Triple H too.
"Oh, you sexy little Heartbreaker," Brock growled as he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Should I break your think little arm like I did to your stupid blond lover?
"Nah, that was way too quick...I'm gonna make you suffer, Shawn, make you scream and cry out for Hunter, and he's not going to be able to help you."
A satisfied smile curled on Lesnar's face and he played through several scenarios in his head. In one, he had Shawn helpless, pinned to the ground, and wrenching the older man's bad back in a wicked submission move. In another, Shawn was cowering against the ropes, all pretense of bravery and defiance gone as a large shadow fell over his small form. His golden-brown hair hung loose, and partially covered his handsome face. His bottom lip quivered.
With a gasp, Brock sat up in bed, more than a little surprised to find that he had a raging hard on. He stared at it uncomprehendingly for several moments before shrugging.
"Huh."
Almost non-nonchalantly, he slipped a huge hand into his boxers, grasping his large, aching cock firmly as he lay back down.
Now he was almost fevered in his fantasy. He imagined tearing off Shawn's shirt, and then his pants, stripping the sexy Heartbreak Kid naked in front of his bound lover, who struggled against his bonds. Brock reveled in how Hunter would curse him, and then, at last, beg him to let Shawn go.
To no avail, of course.
As the former UFC champion stroked himself harder and faster, his mind now created an image of Shawn, completely bare, with tears in his terrified blue eyes, as Brock twisted and tortured every limb that he could—arms, legs, back, neck—at last leaving the Hall of Famer in a broken heap on the floor.
In the fantasy, Shawn's left eye had been swollen shut, and his lip split, no doubt the result of his attempts to fight back.
Laughing in his imaginings and in reality, hand furiously working his now rock-hard manhood, Brock leaned forward in his fantasy and kissed those swollen, bloodied lips, hearing Hunter scream, and feeling Shawn tremble as he ran his hand down the length of HBK's body, lingering at the nipples on his hairy chest, and at last going down and gripping his limp dick, squeezing it painfully.
From his corner, still tied up tightly, Hunter had gone very silent. And, when Brock looked over, he noticed the tears that spilled from the overly-large brown eyes.
"Ah, God dammit," Lesnar growled through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he came hard in his own hand, white fluid coating his palm and stomach.
'Of all the things to set me off...Shawn Michael's pain, and Hunter Hearst Helmsley's tears.'
It took several moments for his mind to clear, for the images to fade, and as he at last came down from his erotic high, the monstrous man still had a sick, lopsided smile on his face.
"Shit," he mumbled, climbing off the bed and heading into the bathroom.
"I didn't even get to raping them."
O.o Scary! He's being so scary! Be careful Shawn!
Anyway, I'm curious to see how this story will play out on TV...I'm going to stick as close to it as I can...unless it becomes stupid, which I highly doubt, because of Shawn and Hunter...
Review?