Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
Rating: M, for explicit sexual content and language.
Pairings (because even though this is a predominantly Rollins/Owens fic, Triple H is heavily involved): Kevin Owens/Seth Rollins, Seth Rollins/Triple H, Kevin Owens/Triple H
A/N: Okay, I'm probably a bit weird, but I've been itching for something, anything really, with Owens/Rollins for more than a year. I was trying to hold off, hoping that someone else could do this pairing justice far better than I can, but after Owens' win on EC, I couldn't hold it off any longer. So here's my attempt at this ship. It's really just pure wish fulfillment.
About two hours before Elimination Chamber starts, Kane tells Seth to watch the John Cena match. Kane mentions that Cena's fighting some guy from NXT who the Authority is keeping a close eye on.
So before his match, Seth, along with Jamie and Joey, watch this Kevin Owens guy lay into John Cena.
And Seth has to admit that he's mildly impressed at the dude. And for someone like Seth, mildly impressed is a huge compliment.
He reminds him of Roman a bit in the sheer power and strength he has when he matches up with Cena, and he reminds him of Dean a bit in the way he keeps kicking out and coming back for more.
But most of all, Owens kind of reminds him of himself, with his confidence and pure talent. Seth never sees him slow down and he never sees him back down. Owens talks the talk and walks the walk, just like he does.
When Owens pins Cena's shoulders to the mat, Seth can't help but give a show of respect by starting to clap.
When Owens cuts a promo after the match to put the world on notice and tell them that he has arrived, Seth manages a half-smile.
Brash. He likes it.
He comes up to congratulate him backstage on his victory, but Owens doesn't even turn to look his way. Seth sees him stop to talk for an interview, so he shrugs it off. As the champ, he understands that some professional duties come first.
But when he goes to check on his Twitter feed after the show, he notices Triple H with a huge grin and his arms around Owens in a new picture.
Seth flexes his fingers a bit.
It looks like The Authority's Golden Boy has some competition.
Triple H and Stephanie holds a meeting with the Authority members the next day. They both fawn all over him as they declare Owens the "New Future of the WWE."
"What about Seth?" Jamie interrupts on his behalf.
"Seth holds the title currently. He's the present," Stephanie assures. Jamie nods, satisfied, as Joey remains stoic.
"So what do you want?" Triple H goes on loudly, throwing an arm around Owens at the end of their meeting. "Cars, trips, assistants…you name it. Come on, there's a limo waiting downstairs for us…"
"Where are we going?" Seth asks.
"Oh. We're just celebrating the big victory," Triple H waves him off, as they leave the room.
And Seth knows that dismissive tone. They're celebrating Owens' victory, not his. Seth's not welcome.
"As a valuable member of the Authority," Stephanie adds, "We think it's best right now for you to do what champions do best. Promote out product. Be a part of the community and interact with the fans. Engage them on social media."
"Right," Seth says slowly. "Of course, I need to fulfill my obligations as champion."
"I know you will. That's why Triple H and I hand-picked you to represent our company." Stephanie offers another smile and leaves to follow her husband and the newest member of the Authority.
He doesn't even realize Kane is there until he opens his mouth. "I know you have a tendency to whine and cry like an entitled brat, but try not to drive this guy away this time," Kane warns, fake smile on his face, before turning to leave.
He feels a hand rubbing circles on his back immediately and he turns to see Joey patiently waiting on him.
"Don't worry, Seth. Didn't ya hear Stephanie?" Jamie starts soothingly on the other side of him, as Joey nods in concurrence. "You're the present. You've got nothin' to worry 'bout."
Seth nods numbly. Randy was the present less than a year ago. The face of the company, even. Where's Randy now? Not even important enough to get a match on a pay-per-view?
Kane is loyal and is still a good friend of Triple H on the account of being one of the few wrestlers left in the locker room from their younger days. J&J are, at best, doting lackeys who do and say anything for the Authority. So although dispensable, they are pretty much inoffensive and harmless.
Kevin Owens though…strong, confident, great wrestler…
Seth knows the signs. The Authority is starting to push him out.
He's not going to wait for it to happen.
Later that day, he sees Triple H again with Owens by his side. He watches his hand travel down Owen's back and Seth has to look away.
This is how it always starts.
Triple H has another toy to play with, and it really doesn't sit well with Seth.
Seth pays a visit to Triple H, alone, in his office a few days later. He tells him that there are some things he wants to address about his upcoming rematch against Dean, but really, it's to address his positioning in the Authority.
Now, Triple H has always been very affectionate to his favorites, but there's never been anything beyond some intimate touching and rubbing. Seth doesn't think it's for lack of desire, but rather the lack of offering and what Triple H deems as unprofessionalism.
So when Seth prances in with just the bottom half of his ring gear on, locks the door and begins to lean over Triple H's desk like a shameless plaything, there's no denying what Seth is proposing.
And Seth knows what the risks are, but even if his plan fails and Triple H completely rebuffs his advances, Seth would still be the last person on the totem pole for the Authority regardless. He knows that to stay in the Authority's good graces – to stay on top, there are things that must be sacrificed.
And to be honest, this isn't so much of a sacrifice as a mutually beneficial agreement.
"So I hear that you've been stressed out lately," Seth purrs, with a glint in his eye and gloved finger pulling at his lip. It's what Triple H usually says to him before he takes him to his office and dry-humps him against the wall. This time, he's turning the tables on his boss.
He's always been a great mentor after all.
Triple H relaxes instantaneously and leans back on his chair, a smile on his face. "I have been a bit stressed out," he admits slowly, dropping the pen in his hand and grabbing the top of his pants.
"Well, I would offer to help, but…" Seth trails off.
"But what?" Triple H pushes.
"Well, you see I heard Owens is getting a rematch against Cena at Money in the Bank," Seth starts, sitting up a little and slowly raking his hair back with his fingers.
Triple H licks his lips and reaches out to grab Seth by the arms, but Seth quickly moves out of his reach. He stands up to stretch his arms above his head like a cat.
"Now, I think it would be best for business if the WWE World Heavyweight Champion defended his title there too," Seth continues. He doesn't even bother to look Triple H in the eye; he just stares at the hand moving slowly over the gray suit fabric over his crotch. "You should make it the main event and make it a huge spectacle so everyone will be talking about it, you know? Maybe like a ladder match?" Seth moves over to him behind his desk and kneels down between his legs. Triple H stills his hand over his bulge and grips Seth by the hair to pull him closer.
"And you know," Seth goes on in a hushed tone, his hot breath seeping through the thin fabric of Triple H's slacks. "You should schedule the Cena and Owens match early on,…maybe after the Money in the Bank match, so that people will be really excited by the time the championship match comes on…"
"Hmm…" Triple H considers, unbuttoning his pants, but holding Seth's head at arm's length. He has that dazed look he wears whenever he's pleased with himself. He unzips his pants and Seth bites his lip at the sight of him. Triple H smirks proudly and opens his legs further.
"Can I count on the King of Kings do that for me?" Seth collects himself, staring up at him between his legs, his beard scraping at his thighs. He presses his lips against the inseam right below the zipper.
"Mmm…" His voice sounds miles away and his eyes start to close, and Seth knows that he has him in the palm of his hand.
"Can I count on you?" Seth repeats, as his mouth hovers over him. He barely touches him when he darts out his tongue, earning a groan and an angered boss.
"Yeah, sure, whatever you want," Triple H growls, yanking him by the hair. "Stop fucking around and suck."
Seth's looks at his phone again. He's supposed to be meeting Owens here for lunch, but he's already thirty minutes late.
Kane took him aside two days ago and told him that Seth wasn't making a concerted effort with Owens and that if the Authority was expected to retain Seth's services as champion, he needed to act like a welcoming host to the potential member.
So he's waiting.
And Seth's only going along with this because his plan with Triple H is seemingly working. Triple H and Stephanie once again asked Seth to take the private jet to do media rounds, he had dinner with them the other night, and Triple H personally asked him if there was anything he could do for him.
And maybe it was for repayment of his, ahem, services, but he assumes that means the plan is working. A few more one-on-one meetings with Triple H and there would be no way he would choose Owens over him.
He finally sees Owens casually walking up the street with his perpetual look of disinterest on his face.
"Where the fuck have you been, Owens?" Seth blurts, before he can remember his etiquette.
Owens shrugs his shoulders. "Waiting long?" is all he manages.
"Uhh, yeah," Seth says. "You're the one who scheduled this for 12:30 and according to my phone it's almost 1:00."
"Oops." It's so casual, like he couldn't care less. Seth frowns as Owens opens the door to the restaurant.
He doesn't bother to hold the door for him.
"The Authority wants us to get to know each other," Seth sighs, as they're being seated. At least, he's trying. It's more than he can say about Owens.
"You listen to everything they say?"
"Of course. They run the place."
"I thought you did. Aren't you the champion?" he asks.
"Yes, but-"
"You don't call the shots?" Owens interrupts him, not looking up from the menu.
"Well, I do but…"
"Or did you just get here by sucking everyone's dick?"
"What-I-that's..." Seth stutters.
"Word gets around, ya know. People always talked about you and the Shield being lovers more than brothers," Owens says, putting his menu down and closing it. Seth doesn't say anything to the contrary and looks down at his hands. "Office walls aren't so thick either," Owens continues, as if he's in deep thought. "You might want to make sure some new roster member isn't seeking to talk to his new boss at a completely reasonable time at four in the afternoon."
"I-" Seth starts, but decides against saying anything in response to that particular detail. "That all happened much later," Seth reasons instead. And really, it's the truth. He hadn't even gone down on Triple H until that day. Triple H did not come to him to break the Shield up in exchange for some weird sexual favors that only involved some occasional, fully-clothed petting for almost a year.
"But people expect it to be on the table," Owens says, his voice hushed. He bores holes into his eyes and leans on his elbows to close the gap between them.
There's an unexpectedly weird feeling that churns inside of Seth and he pulls back uncomfortably.
"You never earned anything really," Owens goes on, unaffected.
"Didn't you blindside your best friend to get a title shot?" Seth argues.
"Didn't you?" Owens laughs heartily.
"So we're the same," Seth concludes, managing a small smile.
"Ahh, you see here's where we differ," Owens disagrees, waving a finger in the air. "I win my matches fair and square. You win by cheating," he says, before taking a sip of his water.
"I don't cheat. I do what makes the most sense, and it makes absolutely no sense to fight and possibly get injured and risk your life when you can get help and keep the title by DQ," Seth observes. "I mean, you'll understand when you get to the top, Owens," he adds in a quick jab.
"Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Rollins," he responds patronizingly, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. "The Authority is going to throw you to the wolves when they realize how much bigger of an asset I am and how worthless you are as a champion." Seth purses his lips at the thinly veiled threat.
"I think we're done here," Seth says curtly, getting up to leave.
"Aww, really? I hear their steaks are good here," he mocks.
"I don't think you realize who I am," Seth warns.
"Oh, I'm sure I'll find out."
They run into each other at RAW and with the pleasantries out of the way, Seth realizes that he might actually hate Owens. It had nothing to do with him possibly taking his place in the Authority. He just hated the man.
It's why he hasn't talked to him since that disastrous lunch, and it's why he still doesn't call him by his first name.
"Watch it, bud," he says monotonously, after Seth swears he is the one who pushed into him.
"You ran into me on purpose," Seth accuses.
"Why would I waste my time purposely running into you?" he asks. Seth shakes his head and bites his lip.
"Look, Owens. We're both part of the Authority now-"
"I'm with Triple H. He never said anything about having to be part of your little Baby-Sitter's Club," he says with clear distaste. He starts walking away from Seth, but before Seth can process what he's doing, he grabs his arm.
"Are you looking for a fight?" Owens asks, his interest in this conversation suddenly perking up. "Because I thought you said you don't fight."
"I fight," Seth spits out. "I just don't need to fight you to prove anything."
"I guess I'd be scared, too…" he trails off. "I mean, I already beat John Cena, a man you could never beat alone, so that already means I'm better than you…But look, I'll make it easy for you. How about a Champion versus Champion match just like me and John? No titles on the line. Can you handle that?" he offers, smiling condescendingly.
Seth raises his chin in defiance and steps closer so they're face to face. And despite being a big guy, Owens is an inch or two shorter than Seth. It's a huge boost to Seth's confidence.
"I'm the WWE World Heavyweight Champion. I'd like to see you handle me" Seth states with a newfound arrogance.
Owens chuckles suddenly and smiles predatorily, eyeing him up and down.
"Oh, don't worry," he smirks, putting a hand on Seth's latex-covered abs and pushing him backwards, effectively pinning him against the wall. "I can handle you just fine." Seth swallows, trying to control his breathing and unsure of what's about to happen next, as Owens stares at him with amusement.
He moves his hand down so that it lands on his belt around his waist. Seth exhales slowly.
"But I'm coming for your title, you assuming little prick."
That same week, he sees Triple H and Owens talking in a dark corner of the Smackdown backstage area. He's about to go over to them, when Triple H, facing away from him, suddenly inches closer to Owens and whispers something in his ear. Seth can practically see Triple H move against him, and there's a mix of jealousy and desire pooling in the pit of his stomach.
For whom, he's not sure.
Owens looks over Triple H's shoulder, right at him, and winks.
Motherfucker.
Plan B involves less of Triple H and more of Owens.
It may also be decidedly rash on his part.
"I'm the man here. You can come after me and my title but not Triple H," Seth confronts Owens later that night, once most of the wrestlers have left. He's not sure if it's out of protectiveness for his mentor or jealousy that someone is Triple H's new favorite or sheer dislike for Owens.
But if Seth can't manipulate Triple H into getting what he wants, he's going to make sure Owens doesn't get to Triple H first.
And if Owens is going to play this game with him, Seth is going to make sure he comes out on top.
"Triple H is a big boy," Owens assures. "A real big boy." The insinuation is not lost on Seth, and he can feel himself getting red with anger.
"He's not just there to fuck you. He's respectable, smart and business-savvy. And Triple H and I have a long history you wouldn't understand," Seth hisses.
"You tell yourself that while he blows me in me in his office."
"Seriously? Triple H would never go down on his knees," Seth denies, laughing at the thought. Owens looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
"You sure about that? I mean his NXT champion, his pride and joy, his baby?" And it's so arrogant and he's so sure of himself, that it puts doubts into Seth's head.
Owens just smiles and shrugs as if he's already won this round, but Seth isn't having it. He's not going to be made a fool twice.
"I'm sure of that," Seth goes on, taking a step closer to him.
Owens retreats once Seth calls out his bluff, and Seth grins at being right, at showing him up. Maybe there's still some hope with Plan A, after all. He puts a note in his head to stop by Triple H's office later.
Owens' facial expression is still unreadable though and he just looks down at his fingernails.
"So how about that match? Winner takes the title of Triple H's new favorite, loser concedes that I'm the best?" Owens asks smugly, looking him in the eye.
He takes this opportunity to put Plan B in action.
"Well, we could have a match, or …" Seth lowers his voice, arching an eyebrow.
"Or I could fight you right here?" Owens suggests.
"Or I could make your time here on the main roster beneficial for the both of us," Seth says, tilting his head. He moves closer to him and runs a hand down from the tattoo on Owens' right arm down to his wrist.
And if the implication wasn't clear before, it certainly is now.
"So it was always on the table," he whistles.
"You back off from Triple H and we can call it even," Seth offers. "So what do you say, Owens?"
They engage in a brief, but intense stare down, with Seth's hand still wrapped around Owens' wrist and Owens not budging. Neither one wants to back down.
"I quite like my own option," Owens finally says. Owens draws his left arm back and he slams his fist against the wall next to the side of Seth's head, causing a loud noise and slight indentation in the wall.
But Seth doesn't stumble. He doesn't even flinch.
"What was that?" Seth just smirks and looks into his eyes and dares Owens to touch him.
"That was a warning," he says, cracking his knuckles nonchalantly. "So what's you next move, champion architect?"
He says it as if Seth's plan has been a bust. But Owens hasn't shaken off Seth's hand on his right wrist, and Seth's never been one to give up on a plan until he's sure it's out of the question.
So he responds by pressing his hard muscles against the pudginess of Owens' big body, molding himself into him. Seth trails his fingers down his sides and angles his hips so that he can feel Owens harden under his shorts. It's a subtle shift, and Seth only jerks his hips upwards slightly, but the movement sparks an instant jolt to both of their cocks.
And even though Owens' face gives away nothing, Seth can see his pupils are now dilated and he can feel Owens' heart pounding a little faster against his ribcage.
"Depends," Seth drawls. "What's yours?"
They stumble into a small, abandoned room full of merchandise inventory for some local sports team a few minutes later. They're pulling at each other's ring gear and hair, all the while trying to maintain as much friction and as little space between them as possible.
When the door closes, Seth pushes Owens backwards into the door and pins his wrists, grinding against him without reservation. He swipes his tongue over Owens' lips hungrily, before prodding and caressing every corner of his mouth with it. Owens meets him stroke for stroke.
"Is this what you had in mind?" Seth asks, breaking for air and moving his hips back and forth. He spreads his legs slightly for better positioning and presses himself against Owens, rubbing their cocks together and feeling every groove and curve of him.
Owens shakes out of Seth's grip and lifts him up with one hand by his ass. Seth wraps his legs around his big waist and Owens carries him across the room.
"I don't know," he murmurs, as Seth throws his head back and whimpers at Owens' hand palming Seth through his tights. "You tell me."
They begin pulling off each other's shirts as they stagger to a table, and Owens unceremoniously shoves a couple of boxes and papers onto the floor to clear some space. He pushes Seth, front-first, into the table, and bends him over by digging his arousal into his backside and pressing his hand against the small of his back to hold him there. The sudden weight makes Seth gasp a little.
"You've had enough already?" he half-murmurs, half-chuckles as he leans down from behind, his teeth grazing his earlobe.
"Fuck you" Seth strains, shifting his body against him in an attempt to gain some leverage.
"I hope that's what this has been leading to," he says wryly, easing up on the hand against his back so that he can reach around to twist Seth's nipples. Seth lets out a whine.
"You're so easy," he remarks, yanking down Seth's tights to expose his bare ass, while Seth squirms underneath him. "Stop moving," he orders, digging his knuckle into Seth's back even more during his struggle. "I top," he says, as if it's a foregone conclusion.
"You wish." Seth rolls his eyes and pushes his ass out to force Owens to stumble backwards and give Seth some space to roll out from underneath him. Seth moves to the opposite wall to compose himself a bit. Seth's pants are still halfway down his hips, exposing his full arousal, and his breathing is coming in staccato pants.
But when Seth locks eyes with Owens from a few feet away, only to see him completely flushed with a noticeable tent in his shorts and his chest rising and falling as rapidly as his own, Seth knows that this isn't a one-sided affair.
"The WWE World Heavyweight Champion never submits," Seth refuses.
"Except to Triple H," he says, just as out of breath as him, with his hands on his hips.
"He's an 8-time champion," Seth points out dryly.
Owens laughs. "You know, I've noticed you get pretty funny when you're backed up against a wall." He stalks closer to Seth. "Now, is that a defense mechanism or just plain foolishness?" he asks thoughtfully.
"Neither. I'm just a funny guy," Seth replies with a glint in his eye, matching him step for step.
When they're close enough, Seth slides a hand up Owens' side, burrowing his fingers into the fleshy skin at the top of his stomach. He kisses him slowly and softly, his teeth scraping at the bottom of his lip and his tongue drawing his name into his. It's completely unlike anything someone like Kevin Owens would expect.
But Owens doesn't pull away, and he lets Seth kiss him until Seth's fingers are caressing the sides of his face and Owens' hands are lightly resting on Seth's hips.
"I'm still not submitting," Seth says flatly, pulling away as if the kiss was just that – a kiss.
"You will," he says easily. "Like you always did before," Owens continues with a smirk. He says it as if he knows what Seth used to do or who he used to be, as if he knows who he really is.
It annoys the hell out of Seth.
But before he can reply, Owens gives him a hard push onto the table and takes his cock into his hands.
A small moan escapes Seth's lips at the touch.
He massages Seth's balls lightly as he pulls his shorts down to his ankles. He traces a finger along the vein on the underside of his cock, and stops to grin at Seth as if this is all a game to him.
And maybe it is.
But it's supposed to be a game for Seth too.
Owens thumbs the head and Seth flutters his eyes closed, his mind starting to shut off and his body starting to take over. When Owens teases his cock against Seth's entrance, Seth unconsciously tries to thrust forward in offering.
"Turn around," he orders huskily into his ear.
That's all it takes for Seth, in his blissful stupor, to obey.
He hears Owens spit into his hand and he feels him put two fingers into his entrance. The prep is pretty hasty and Owens only takes a minute or two to stretch him out until he deems it ready. Seth is kind of surprised he bothers at all. Given his reputation for a disregard for others, Owens is actually, slightly, considerate.
When he feel the tip of his cock against his hole, Seth takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes and readies himself.
Groans and grunts simultaneously fill the room as Seth is filled up. He hasn't bottomed in over a year so it's tight and it really fucking hurts initially. It takes a few adjustments to accommodate Owens inside of him, and he's not sure if Owens does it on purpose, but Seth is thankful that he stops once he's completely inside.
He thinks it's just to take a brief breather, but to his surprise, again, Owens leans down and reaches around with one arm to give Seth's hardness a few lazy strokes.
"Mmm…" Seth buzzes.
Seth knows that it's all just cursory – that Owens really couldn't care less about whether Seth feels satisfied after this and that for a guy like Owens, it's all about himself – but he appreciates the effort and any little touch is going to feel like all of his nerve endings are on pins and needles anyway.
Once Owens starts to pull out, Seth spreads his legs further and bend forward some more in response, trying to open himself up more for him.
"Yeah," Owens murmurs, starting to set a steady pace with his hands bracing the table and his belly pressing firmly against Seth's back. "So much for never submitting," he half-chuckles, half-pants.
In retort, Seth clenches his muscles around Owens, who lets out a low guttural sound. Seth grins.
That's always been the good thing about submitting, and perhaps why Seth always enjoyed it before – the finesse and the little details lie with the submissive one. Plus, there's something kind of beautiful in the art of making some tough guy cry out and come to orgasm.
"You like that, hmm?" Seth coos, clenching again, only to hear more indiscernible noises spill out of Owens' mouth.
And Seth would give anything to see Owens' face right now. Someone usually so casual and uncaring, shuddering and sweating and completely falling apart inside of him.
He'd love to see some big guy like Owens taken down a peg or two, reduced to a withering mess because of what he has done to him.
Next time, Seth smirks.
Owens apparently doesn't have the patience for the details right now and he slams Seth hard onto the table so that his face is pressed against the wood and his ass naturally arches up.
"Fuck," Owens curses at the new angle, his voice hitching. "So tight, baby." His thrusts are coming faster and more erratic with every breath he takes, so Seth doesn't know if the term of endearment is just a slip of the tongue or something else altogether, but he's never going to let Owens live it down.
"You call everyone baby?" Seth manages to stammer out. His head is starting to fog up and he knows there's not much more he can take of this.
"Only to the younger ones," Owens mocks, splaying his hands on his upper back for better leverage. "Now, shut up."
"Don't-" Seth starts, as Owens pushes into him harder in response. "Have to –" he gasps, as the cock hits his prostate. "Tell-" Another thrust.
"Ungghh," Seth moans, the sound muffled into the table as he buries his entire face into the table.
"What were you saying?" Owens smirks mischievously, pausing his movements.
"Fuck, Owens…Just…come on," he begs, breathless and desperate.
It's all just a blur after that. Seth just knows that there's a lot of noises – from the sounds vibrating from the back of their throats to the inventory boxes toppling over and crashing to the floor to the slick sound of their bodies slapping together.
It's not until Owens withdraws suddenly that the haze in Seth's mind clears a bit. He almost whimpers at the loss of heat, and he's about to turn his head to protest, when he feels something hot shoot onto his lower back and drip down his ass. He hears a shaky, drawn-out exhale follow.
"Fuck," Owens breathes, collapsing onto the table in a sated haze.
Seth stands up straighter, leaning on one hand on the table for support. He reaches down to touch himself, and he groans on contact. A few strokes is all it takes until he's shaking and shuddering in his hands and cumming all over the floor, next to the mess of overturned boxes and torn-up papers scattered around.
Whatever. Someone will take care of this in the morning. He's too tired to think or do anything about it right now. He just collapses next to Owens on the table, equally exhausted.
"Jesus fuck, that was good, Kevin," Seth sighs, pushing the matted hair out of his face.
"So that's what it takes to be on a first name basis, huh?" he asks amused, folding his hands across his stomach.
"So do we have a deal, Owens?" Seth huffs, ignoring his comment.
"Depends on what your next move is."
A/N2: Thanks for giving this a shot, and reviews are always appreciated!