Warning: Slash

Disclaimer: Read Ch:01

One month later…. Night of April 26th.

For the first time in a long time, the demons rested. They slept, pleasured by the dreams of forgiveness and peace.

Dean Ambrose no longer felt the previously unquenchable need to kill himself.

It did not matter that he had nearly split his skull a few hours ago.

It did not matter that Dolph Ziggler was (undeservingly) made to kiss Sheamus' white 'arse.'

Best of all, it did not matter that Seth fucking Rollins was still World Champ.

Okay, maybe the last one mattered a little.

But he had just competed in one of the longest pay per view matches. Much of it had been of camera, but who cared. He came out victorious in the end.

He put Luke Harper's shoulders down for a 1-2-3.

And therefore, it was an improvement. An as much as he'd hate to admit it, it was only after having the life choked out of him that his body had he been relieved of the tension.

He sat in his hotel room, ice pack to the head and to the shoulder introspecting everything that had happened in the past year.

He'd become the WWE's longest reigning US champ.

He'd been the reason Seth Rollins became a butt of so many jokes.

Through his many feuds he solidified himself into a main event star.

He'd kicked Rollins ass at Hell in a Cell…. Not too long before Wyatt kicked his, but that's beside the point.

He'd had a memorable, albeit painful, Wrestlemania moment.

On top of it all, he'd won his first pay per view match in ten months.

A smile creeped up on his face. A genuine toothed smile.

And, again, as much as he'd hate to admit it, the reason still came to be John fucking Cena.

Now, he wasn't a guy who'd go the extra mile to show his gratitude. Therefore, thinking a simple 'Thank you' would suffice, he began his long journey to John Cena's room.

After all, Cena had to be in some form of pain. People might have thought that it wasn't such a wonderful match, but a steel chain was a steel chain, and when it hit your body, it would result in excruciating pain. And Dean did not want to bother him too much.

At least, that is what he told himself.

On the way, his mind wandered out to all four corners of the world.

Should he apologize?

No chance in hell.

A simple show of gratitude would be perfect.

But he did slap the other guy, and frankly, he did not need to be on the bad side of any more people.

Suite 1103. Of course the business top dog would have the biggest room.

He raised his hand to knock on it, but then decided against it.

What if Cena was asleep? He'd had a hard match after all.

Whatever, Dean thought, Cena wouldn't die. If I can stay alive after getting hit by that Kendo stick a few times, Cena can also take a beating.

If not, he simply couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

Before he had the chance to muster up enough courage, the door opened and revealed a freshly showered John Cena, wearing only shorts, water dripping from his torso.

"Lost your way, Senor Ambrose?" he drew the words out, standing against the door.

Ambrose faltered. John Cena, complete along with his washboard abs, stood tall and mighty in front of him.

But he kept the smile on his face. "What is this Cena, your flimsy effort to try and seduce me? Now, now, what would all the kids say when they see their icon like this?"

To say John's next move was unexpected was the understatement of the century. He jutted two of his fingers in Dean's jeans, and yanked the cloth, pulling the other guy flush on his body.

"Mr. Ambrose, I know you are well aware that 'seduction' is something I was never good at. You know why? Because I've always taken what I wanted, and that's a fact."

"So, what now, huh?" Dean couldn't control the hitch in his breath, but tried maintaining his composure and his cocky attitude. John's own musk seemed to drive him crazy. He gulped, before continuing. "I- I just came to express my gratitude and say thank you. I should be going, like now. We- We have a live show to do tomorrow."

"Don't worry about the live show, Ambrose. You have a match against Sheamus, and you're fighting for the title of King of the Ring."

"W- What?"

"Yeah, I've already spoken to creative, just like I spoke with them one day after Wrestlemania. If I recall correctly, it was an open challenge. Anybody could have answered it. But you did. Not Rusev, not Sheamus, Not Barrett. I wanted you in the ring with me. I got you in the ring with me."

"You act like you own the place. Might as well go around saying you Vince's bitch."

"Like shit he would, son of a bitch once tried to make a move on me. I kicked his ass, like, literally. That's how you earn respect around here. Step up for yourself. I know you think Seth got all he wanted because he got fucked and got passed around but in reality he doesn't have any. I might have a lot of haters and several more in the locker room, but at the end of the day, they know I am not someone to be messed with. You would know this more that several others! Because of your persona, and lack thereof, you get the same. So, am I right or am I right?"

Dean shakily nodded, amazed that he was going to get another chance at a championship that, in his mind, was stolen wrongly from him.

"Exactly. Now then, what had you come to say again?"

Dean suddenly got nervous. He stared at his feet and did not have a single idea as to what he would do.

"Thank you." Somehow, without knowing it, he managed to mumble the two words out, and all of a sudden that made him feel weak and pathetic, making him cringe with disgust.

"Oh, I don't want your 'Thank you' Ambrose," John said, his voice deep, his eyes holding a sly gaze towards Ambrose, who had subsequently been pulled inside.

Ambrose's head jerked towards the big man "What do want then?" he said sharply, more or less challenging the man. Yes, he might be feeling weak on his knees, but there was no way in hell that it would make him parrot out an apology.

"Oh, I think you know so quit stalling." Cena eyed Ambrose like a hawk, as if he were nothing but a piece of meat.

Ambrose wouldn't stoop so low. His morals did not allow him to do so.

"I'm not apologizing if that's what you think!"

"Dean, Dean, Dean… Who would have ever thought that the Lunatic Fringe, one of the sharpest talkers in the industry today, would turn out to be so incredibly… dumb, and naïve?" John coolly gazed into Ambrose's eyes, seemingly to extinguish the fire contained within them.

Dean was fighting a lost battle. He knew he would eat out of John's palm if the older man asked him too.

And it scared him.

Tentatively, he took two small steps back, wanting to put a bit more distance between them.

"Would you stop jabbering around like a madman and simply tell me what you expect of me! You've been going round and round in circles and I am fed up. So unless you want me here for something actually constructive, I would like to go back to my room." Ambrose blasted. Something told him that he would have to go through another choking session when John approached him, but to his surprise, he bent forward, no contact between their bodies and blew into Ambrose's ear.

You know what I expect you to do. I expect you to get on your fucking knees and take my cock down your throat. Then, I expect you to let me push my dick into that tight, probably virgin hole of yours and then I expect you to let me ravish you. Trust me dear, by the time I'm done with you, I want to make you unable to remember your fucking name."

Dean stood there floored. What the hell had he go himself into?

Yes, John Cena had blissfully uttered expletives throughout the night, but this, this was just another level. John Cena had just bluntly invited him to become his bitch.

And, what shocked Dean was that he was considering it.

John circled Dean once, then went and sat on the back of the room, crossing his legs, perching them on top of the coffee table. "I'm not as shallow as you think I am, Dean. If you think that your conscience won't allow it, or you think I am going to flush your career down the drain and make you job at NXT, or you simply don't want to do it, you don't need too. But, if you step in, you're in. There shall be no exits."

One couldn't begin to describe how torn Dean Ambrose was at the moment. He'd always hated labels and therefore, gay sex itself didn't scare him. The thought scared him. He'd been the victim of a tough life. Could he surrender?

After what seemed like a minute, he simply strolled over to Cena, bent down and delivered a huge bitch slap right across the face.

"I'm not a bitch. You better remember that."

That's when John jerked him into his arms into a rough kiss.

I haven't updated for so long. I should stop putting dates up. Sorry for the tardiness. I'll be posting the next chapter in EDF soon. SOON. Like, before 7th May. I hope. Finger's crossed. Again, this is to tell you that I haven't forgotten about it.

Please review! Pwease! Pwease!