"What do you mean you don't own a suit?!" Alicia questioned in horrified disbelief as she rifled furiously through Dean's wardrobe in the hope of finding something remotely formal or stylish.
"I don't have the need nor the inclination to own one," Dean replied in a weary tone, reclining on the bed and smirking at the state she was gradually working herself up into.
"You live in Vegas, what happens if you decide to hit a casino?" Alicia went on.
"I much prefer strip joints. And not the high-end ones either. A guy like me has no place in anything that calls itself a 'gentleman's club.'" Dean replied, taking a little too much delight in the sense of despair he knew he was filling her with. Ultimately, he loved confrontation and pushing buttons too much to let a good comeback pass him by.
"Ah, I've seen you in a suit!" Alicia piped up victoriously.
"...You wore one to the Slammies, and the Hall of Fame. What happened to it?"
"A wild, wild night in... I wanna say San Jose, could've been Oakland, Roman will remember. Long story short, it ended up with several buttons missing and covered in at least two different bodily fluids. I never got round to replacing it," Dean explained, with a fond grin of rememberance.
"Do you know where we're going?" Alicia questioned rhetorically.
"To take selfies with superficial pricks with faces so full of botox they cry through their nipples. Or they would if they weren't on too many different pills to feel any natural emotion," Dean retorted derisively.
"Look, whether you like it or not, this is the world I come from, this is where I met some of my oldest friends. I've bounced in moshpits with sweaty neckbeards for you, the least you can do is dress nice for me this one time and clap when I come down the catwalk," Alicia snapped leaping onto the bed and pressing herself menacingly atop him with her hands.
"You loved the Deftones show. You got to beat up complete strangers without consequence. You were in heaven," Dean chuckled, fondly cupping her cheek in the hope of teasing a conceding chuckle out of her. No such luck.
"Deany, I'm serious. Look, serious face," she said, fixing him with a look of hardened dertermination. Dean's desire to rile her up was made all the more irresistible by the fact that her 'serious face' was also one of her cutest.
"I just think you're better than that now. You've moved beyond all the air kisses and the backhanded compliments and the pretending you don't have any glands. You're an ass-kicker now, you're a maniac, you're my maniac. You're too much for those stiffs to handle," he implored, bringing his other hand to her cheek, heartened that his words caused her expression to soften slightly.
"I can't let Frankie down. If he hadn't given me a chance all those years ago, I'd never have modelled, I'd never have got my WWE deal, and we'd never have met. Think of it that way. He needs ten models for this show, one girl missed her flight, I'm in the area, so I'm gonna help him out as a one-off for old time's sake. Then I'll go back to kicking ass and running wild. This isn't Foxy selling out, I promise you," she said softly, leaning forward and kissing him warmly on the lips.
Living for two hadn't come easily to Dean, but if he had to open his secret, solitary world up to anyone, he was glad it was this wonderful little weirdo. He'd grown so protective of her during the past few months, an emotion he was far from familiar with. She'd risked her life and career in the ring for him that night and he'd forever be grateful.
For the most part, people were a chore to Dean Ambrose. Alicia was many things, but tedious was not one of them. She was the most annoying, unpredictable, clingy person he'd ever met; yet she was also the most loyal, affectionate and vibrant. He couldn't begin to explain exactly what it was they had, why it worked, why he'd let Alicia into places he'd never let anyone normal go. All he knew was that it was special, and that he wouldn't give it up for anything.
"Who is that guy, and what's he wearing?"
"Did they let a hobo in off the street?"
"Where did he get that popcorn?"
"I brought it with me. I like popcorn," Dean shrugged as the sharply-dressed middle-aged couple on the next table realised he'd overheard every word of their asinine, closed-minded disapproval toward him.
"Say, anywhere a guy can get a beer around here?" he asked them, looking hopefully around.
"There's free champagne over there," the painfully-thin woman gestured with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
"Oh, awesome," Dean exclaimed, leaping to his feet, wilfully ignoring the pre-poured glasses and swigging directly from the bottle, before instantly regretting it.
"Eugh, my God. You actually drink this stuff, like, for fun? Like, not as a dare? Tastes like stale piss, and I say that from experience," he proclaimed with a grimace, as the couple's jaws dropped in revulsion. However, before they could reprimand him any further, the lights dimmed and the show began.
Against his instincts, Dean soon found himself spellbound. Alicia moved with such poise and grace, it was almost as if she used to do this for a living or something. However, his new friends clearly didn't agree.
"Look at those arm muscles. This isn't the hammer-throw, sweetie," the thin woman muttered derisively as her husband stifled a chuckle.
"That's a real woman is what that is," Dean hissed violently as he spun round in his chair. He turned back to the stage to find Alicia winking mischievously at him.
"You see that look?" he asked the hecklers.
"That means something awesome's about to happen."
As the exhibition drew to a close and the models took their final bows, Dean saw Alicia hastily moving the other girls to the side. Next he knew, the room filled with gasps and cheers of surprise as she cartwheeled and then backflipped her way to the end of the catwalk, landing split-legged at the end of the runway.
"Ugh, my God, where did they get her from?" the woman continued to despair.
"Don't overshadow the clothes. First rule of modelling."
"Admit it..." Dean began as he got to his feet to applaud.
"...that was fucking awesome. Before that this was just another boring fashion show, now everyone's gonna be talking about it. That's the sort of thing viral sensations are made of."
"That's a good point," the man murmured in agreement.
"Shut up, Eric!" his wife snapped.
"I love you,... Alicia said for about the twentieth time since they'd left the show. Not that Dean was tired of hearing it.
"...You didn't punch anyone, you stayed sober... ish, but you were still you. And that's all I can ever ask for."
He swept her up into his arms and leapt recklessly onto the sofa, with Alicia landing snugly in his lap.
"You looked so happy up there, how could I possibly ruin that?" he smiled with the kind of uncharacteristic sweetness and honesty that only she could bring out in him.
"Awww..." Alicia sighed bunching her shoulders together and beaming, before deciding the best way of expressing this swelling of emotion was to unleash a relentless barrage of kisses about his face and neck.
"You're the best," she concluded when she was through with her assault. Dean grinned smugly at her in anticipation. She eyed him with guarded suspicion.
"What's that look for?" she questioned with playful intrigue.
"I was just wondering what my reward is," he replied, with a sleazy raise of his eyebrow.
Alicia leant back, straddling his middle and tapped her finger against her chin in thought. Dean waited in aroused anticipation. He loved how her mind worked in these situations. Finally she leant forward, one hand on his shoulder as she pressed her lips against his right ear.
"I'm gonna let you do something very naughty with me," she whispered seductively, before kissing him softly on the temple.
"And what exactly is that?" Dean asked excitedly.
"You'll find out..." Alicia proclaimed in a sing-song voice as she pushed off of his chest and sprang to her feet.
"...see you in the bedroom."
And with that she scampered across the apartment and out of sight. Dean slowly clambered off the sofa and began undressing in preparation in front of the mirror.
"You're a very lucky man, Dean Ambrose," he told his reflection.
He proceeded along the corridor and slowly opened the bedroom door. There she was in all her finery, a coy smirk playing on her lips. He'd never been with a girl who was capable of being just as wild and dirty-minded as him, but God was it about time.
"So, what's the plan?" Dean asked, joining her on the bed and moving his lips to hers.
"Look... behind you... on the table..." Alicia breathed between kisses.
Dean wheeled around. Beside the bed lay a condom and a bottle of lubricant. He separated himself from Alicia and clambered over to grab it. When he turned back around, Alicia had rolled onto all fours, presenting her voluptuous behind in his direction. She turned to look at him, taking great delight in the expression of perverted glee that was covering his face.
"This..." she began, gesturing to her backside with a light slap to her right buttock.
"...is all yours."
"Are you sure?" Dean queried pensively, knowing the situation would lose all its attraction if the pleasure wasn't mutual. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way about sex.
"I really want you to fuck me in the ass, Deany, OK?" she cooed, in a tone Dean would have described as innocent if not for the words it was speaking. Words that could not have turned him on any more than they did. And unusually, it wasn't just the act that had him bubbling with excitement and pride. It was the level of trust she was placing in him.
"I fucking love you, Alicia Fox. I mean that," he breathed.
Settling onto his knees, he scooped some of the lotion onto his hand.
"You do know what you're doing, don't you?" she asked, displaying nervousness for just about the only time Dean could recall.
"Absolutely. Do you?" he replied, realising that this situation could be completely new to her, a possibility that made him feel all the more privileged.
"It's been a while, but, yeah, I do," she replied.
"I won't hurt you, I promise," he blurted out defiantly.
"I know you won't," Alicia replied calmly. As if it wasn't even a possibility. She trusted him completely and utterly. Dean wasn't used to being trusted. It should have been pressuring to him, but it wasn't. He had no desire to force her into anything in the name of his own gratification, no desire to cause her any pain, physical or mental, in any scenario.
Using his left hand to keep her cheeks apart, he began thoroughly lining her entrance with the lube, taking great delight in the half-giggle, half-moan she let out as his fingers came into contact with the sensitive flesh. He then slowly, carefully eased his index finger into her back passage, noting with a little trepidation just how very tight it was.
"Hope I fit," he murmured in concern.
"Don't flatter yourself," Alicia fired back, earning her a pointed smack to her behind as the both grinned at each other.
"Damn you've got a great ass," Dean marvelled as he watched the plump flesh jiggle in response to his touch.
"I've been hearing that for ten years, honey. Tell me something I don't know," Alicia countered as Dean shook his head in fondness and disbelief.
"Now who's getting cocky?" he asked rhetorically.
"Hey, we're both really fucking hot, there's no point being shy about it..." Alicia asserted.
"...it's not arrogance, it's just... ohhh God!"
Alicia's proclamations were soon silenced as Dean entered her. In spite of his worries, he fit just perfectly.
"Jesus Christ that's good," he breathed instinctively has he slowly began thrusting and savouring the exquisite friction, grabbing meaty handfuls of her firm buttocks for leverage.
He only lasted a matter of minutes in such tight confines, but they were among the most glorious of his life, and based on the wild, primal cries Alicia was giving out, he wasn't the only one. He pulled out just before his moment of climax. Realising Alicia was not yet there, he manoeuvred her onto her back, laying atop of her as he captured her left nipple in his mouth and lowered his right hand to her moist slit, indulgently manipulating both until she finally peaked with a glorious wail of fulfilment.
He rolled back onto the mattress and leant her head atop his chest. Sex was so much better when you actually wanted to know the other person after it was all said and done. It had taken him way too long to realise that. He'd found something very special here, and felt as if whoever dared try take it from him would instantly become his worst enemy. Little did he know, that theory would soon be put to the test.