They had Sunday night.
Which was unfortunate as, prior to Vince's shitting of the bed, they'd intended to use her extended vacation time differently. Especially his birthday.
But things change.
For all the emotions Steph had about things, canceled plans were hardly anything to bat an eye at; so long as it benefited to the company, their relationship always felt secure enough to withstand a few floated dates.
Plus...it helped that it was his birthday and not hers.
Still, Stephanie did want to shower him with at least a bit of attention. The past year shook them a bit and it would have been a nice place to lave it all behind.
Instead, new titles and responsibilities signified the end of any self-pity.
How badly could you feel for yourself anyways?
When you reach your happily ever after?
Holding tryouts was great. Hardly anywhere else he'd rather be.
Thursday was travel and he did get to see his family, but it was family time. Not he and Steph time.
Which was amazing and he knew he had to start appreciating it as much as possible (he'd been a bit inundated, the past few months), but…
Friday was Smackdown and stressing about Saturday because that was Summer Slam and wow, the universe was really testing them already, huh? Because then they could have that Sunday night, but it was with the understanding
It didn't help that Steph thought it would be fun to wait. She said as much, Thursday night when they were both exhausted, but not too exhausted, he didn't think, when he nuzzled against her neck, but then Steph yawned and said they could if he wanted to, but maybe if she could make it to Sunday night not completely exhausted….
Given he was awfully tired as well, it wasn't hard to sell him on the idea. Friday and Saturday night gave him little to argue with either as the hours he spent in bed with the woman were limited as they were. It felt like he'd just shut his eyes, each night in a different hotel, before she was slipping out of his grasp and he was groaning in a new morning.
A new normal.
Or a return to one.
"It's too early to resent it," Steph giggled over a shared breakfast of some shit from the free breakfast down in the hotel lobby early Sunday morning. Steph peeled her orange thoughtfully, bringing a thumb up to her lips to suckle any residual juice. "And after tonight-"
"Soon," he snickered and they were standing off by themselves, him sipping at his coffee as they waited for their family to finish their own grazing. Steph was taking them back home and he was heading on to Houston for Raw. There was a part of him that wanted to follow her and vice versa, but each knew better than to look for more than then they were given. Her words were true.
It was too soon to be bitter. Irritated. They both claimed they were ready for this, that they were prepared for so many years and while it had to be some of the worse timing ever, Steph reminded him the night she officially gained her crown-
Of course, not before first assuring he regained his own.
"Now everything bad is behind us," she'd grinned as they said goodbye in the parking lot after work, forever logistically at odds. He wanted to take her out to dinner that night. He offered, insisted they could do something, but she was doing something, she promised him, and he knew that he wanted to make good impressions.
Take things seriously.
They were serious.
But she absolutely would have sacrificed the entire company had it all taken place a year prior. Might even have felt it a sign.
"Really?" he asked with a bit of a frown as he bent over her car window, the woman seated inside, buckling her seat belt, finding it difficult in the heat.
"Uh, yeah." She frowned over at him. "My dad gets destroyed in the media again-"
"Rightfully."
"-I get an important, coveted promotion-"
"Questionably."
"-and," she continued, "my husband nearly dies?"
"Absolutely wrongfully." He even shook his head a bit, a soft grin alighting his features. He loved his wife. Even just talking with her. "A saint. Guilt by association."
"I would have thought it was some sort of omen," she insisted with a sharp nod and he could see himself, out of the corner of his eye, in her review mirror. So drawn in. Literally. He needed to leave her, of course, let her go, but…
"But instead," Steph was saying then as, buckling her seat belt, she was ready to finish her thought, "it's behind us. All of it is. Every single bad thing is over and we're in, you know, the happy ending."
"Ending." He snorted. "This is just the beginning."
"Well, yeah, I know, but-"
"No, Stephie, think about it." His smile grew. "I'm out of the way. Your dad's gone. Shit, you toss in something else happening to, say, your brother, and fuck, that's not an omen; that's destiny."
She crinkled her nose. "You think so?"
Paul nodded, glancing at the time scrolling by on her car stereo, knowing it didn't matter really what it said; he knew it wasn't enough. "You're the sole survivor baby. Last one standing. You win. Female empowerment out of the wazoo."
"I dunno." she clicked her tongue, but he saw it as she toyed with the stereo, gaze only leaving him briefly. She'd clocked the time. He was losing her. "Fate removes skill. Earned skill."
"There's always more to the story," he pointed out, taking a step back, never wanting to put the woman on the spot.
Or at least never wanting to find out.
Which one of them would it be?
Work or him?
He knew, but would chuckle a bit, at forcing her to make the decision on a much smaller scale.
It was probably a good way to get him called a jerk.
Or getting told he wasn't taking things seriously…
"If you think of the year not as a calendar year, but from this specific point,' she mused as her hand came to the button to roll up the window, but lingered some, bright blues on her husband, "then all of those things did happen, leading up to all of this. Wow. What a life."
"Inspiring."
"Well, to be born into the family of the most incompetent males on the planet-"
"Not born." He rubbed his knuckles against his chest, insisting to his wife as her finger slipped, surely, he refused to believe otherwise, and the window was rolling up and their moment was done, on an early Monday afternoon. His wedding ring brushed the button of his shirt as Steph mouthed her love of him through the window. "Married."
That afternoon seemed so far from them then, eons past, and it surprised him, Sunday afternoon as he roamed around in the unforgiving Texas summer, that a full week had yet to pass.
What surprised him more was when one of the guys, who'd gotten a delayed flight, came in talking about already seeing Steph in town.
"Uh-huh," he'd agreed, having been ready to just flat ignore the other man, engrossed in something on his phone as he sat around, bored, waiting for a meeting to start. He was hunched over the table, but sat to attention once the other man's words began to catch up with his brain. "Wait… You saw Steph in Houston?"
Though the other guy nodded, he wasn't able to say much else, as someone else was calling out to him, and suddenly, maybe, Paul couldn't really concentrate on anything else.
Where are you?
He was left on read. Even when he added the emoji that looked kinda panicked, maybe? He couldn't really tell. But he'd sent like five of them in a line and after still not receiving anything from the woman, he though that, maybe, they hadn't been panicked looking little smileys, but something else, something…well, that Steph didn't like, apparently, cause she'd usually love an appropriately timed emoji.
Maybe he forgot something at his hotel.
No.
Not something that someone up at the convention hall could get him.
Someone else.
Something else.
Something he just needed to get before heading out to dinner that night.
Something only he could get, not an assistant or anyone.
Him.
It didn't matter what.
He'd have agreed with anything anyone said.
He just needed to get his hotel, desperately.
There were lots of people he knew milling about the hotel lobby (as well as a lot of people that wanted to know him), but none were the woman he was seeking out. Approaching reception, the young guy behind the counter smiled at him warmly and Paul didn't even take the time out to revel in the obvious recognition in the other guy's face.
His mind was that one track.
"My wife come to collect that key I left her?" he asked to which the guy was quick to nod.
"A few hours ago," he offered helpfully and Paul thanked him, but already was diverting his mental focus to figuring his best next course of action.
Of course he wanted to go upstairs.
He hadn't come all the way not to.
But…
If the woman wanted him to know that she was there, surely she would have told him.
And yet, his worse half, the dark side of him, the one that needed her there to keep him in check, reasoned that if she didn't want hi to go to the hotel and find out why she was lingering around so early (and why she hadn't tipped him off on this so he could get out of the stupid shit that he had on deck that day) insisted that he go up there.
Check things out.
Find out what was going on.
Just see Steph.
The dark side won out.
He wasn't sure what he expected to find in the hotel room. A horny thought flashed through his mind of her pleasuring herself, prepping herself, getting ready for him and he fumbled a bit, with the key card, but of course she wasn't.
She was actually bent over her computer, seated at the couch in the corner, laptop on the coffee table before it. An empty tea mug sat beside her and Steph didn't look up as he entered.
Only frowned.
"You," she remarked as she continued to type away at something, "are supposed to be in a meeting.'
"Heading to dinner." He came in further. "That's where I'm supposed to be. And you should still be in the air. Or just touching down. Did you head right back here after taking the kids home?"
"I mean, I went to the house first, but-"
"Why?"
"I wanted to surprise you." Her typing stopped and he got her eyes, but there were behind her glasses. She still wore the same hoodie and shorts she'd yawned through pulling on that morning. Her day sounded hectic, just from the travel, but he could tell from the general demeanor of the woman that she'd found it relaxing.
Even her screen didn't display anything too distressing; just a standard work email.
Steph was relaxed.
"I'm surprised." He turned from her some as he pulled his cellphone from his pocket. "Finish up."
"What?"
"Finish up." He glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. "I'm about to get out of dinner and-"
"No! Paul-"
"Baby, I don't think you get-"
"Go to dinner."
"I-"
"Go to dinner." She still hadn't even risen to greet him. Her blue eyes were cold even as, with a frown, she insisted, "You weren't supposed to come so early."
"I wanted to see you."
"You will. Tonight." Steph's gaze drifted back to her laptop. "Don't be late."
This was a game.
It had to be.
Steph liked some alone time before they fucked usually, preferably, but fuck, this was just to torture him.
Dinner sucked.
Or it ruled.
He couldn't tell.
Depended on who you asked.
Everyone else seemed to have gotten something out of it and that was great.
His mind was elsewhere.
She was different when he saw her next.
While he'd spent the two hours picking at his chicken and veggies and thinking about Steph, the woman herself had spent just as much time thinking about him.
And what he liked.
It was his birthday that they were celebrating.
Sort of.
He hadn't liked when she'd made that joke that morning. Steph could tell. Paul humored her in most aspects, but he'd made a bit of a face, a specific one, that let her know not to make it again.
Even though it was true.
Stephanie had now officially become (co-)CEO of WWE and yes that meant that she deserved, once more, to be lavished with his attention.
Of course.
But her
Still, it was his birthday.
Steph changed before he arrived and was actually lounging in bed, idly flipping through texts and the television. The second he opened the door this time though, the woman was on him. Tossing down her phone and scrambling for the remote, Steph was soon on her feet and jumping into his arms with all that adoration and obsession he'd been missing before.
Maybe for an entire year.
He caught her, easily, lifting her in the air and he felt too good.
He knew better than to get too carried away.
But fuck.
Fuck.
He had his wife for a single night, all to himself.
He hardly knew where he wanted to get started.
"Fuck, I need you," he growled, arms cradled beneath her ass as Steph's legs wrapped around his waist. She pressed her forehead into his and he almost fell back, it took a lot for him to find his balance.
Maybe he didn't.
Stephanie couldn't tell.
As he said that, he kind of just stumbled over to the bed, barely making it. Steph gasped some, but it turned into a laugh because the man was rushing. She wanted to tell him to slow down. Though she didn't want the night over before they could truly enjoy it, she was also reverent, again, of it being his day.
He could dictate the pace.
And at the moment, he was stuck in high gear. He set in immediately on her shorts, ripping the from her body as Steph laughed, accommodating by crawling away, further up the bed. Panting, Paul tossed his shorts to the side before starting on his belt.
"Baby," Steph cooed softly, reaching back out for him. "Let me."
Dipping a knee into the bed, he was more than willing to do as the woman asked. This pleased the woman who only reached further, until she could grab him, pull him closer.
As she started unbuckling his belt, Paul only gathered both the tee he wore and the undershirt beneath in a fist before tugging it up and over his head. As he tossed it to the side, Steph popped the button on his jeans and tugged down the zipper, moaning lowly as she palmed him.
"You know," he puffed as he ran a hand over the top of his smooth head, "I gotta say, I've been with a lotta women."
Her hands had been drifting to his hips, planning to begin tugging at his jeans, but his words stilled them.
"Uh no," she told her husband with a frown. "You didn't have to say that. At all."
"But," he continued regardless, "never a CEO."
"Well," she kept up as well, "an interim."
"That's not as hot."
"No?"
"Not nearly." The sun was setting now, even though the hour was nearing nine, and though Steph had mostly drawn the curtains, he could still see glimpses of the orange rays peeking through. Time was weird. His schedule usually led him to not trusting it. Just the schedule. The order. "What's it like, huh? To be the brightest, most creative, funniest, most beautiful CEO in all the world, huh?"
"Mmmm," his wife hummed as his hands found hers and, pressing down on them tightly, helped guide his jeans down faster. Just enough to better free his boxers. "Why don't you ask Nick?"
Paul frowned at her, releasing her hands as he fell back on his butt then to pull his pants off. "Dunno what you're talking about. The only people that exist in this world until, oh, ten a.m. tomorrow are Paul and Stephanie Levesque."
"Oh really?"
"Got it on pretty good authority."
She giggled, falling over some as she did so and Paul wanted to feel the frilly, nylon and lace rose colored pair his wife wore more than anything else in the world then. Though she'd flicked off the television, Steph had left on the bedside lamp and he wondered briefly how he looked to her, in its unflattering light. If her half-lidded eyes meant anything, the extra bit he'd found to put in that week was paying off.
Or least further helped to stroke his ego.
Laughing some as well, he slipped out of his boxers as well. He was trying to tug off his socks when Steph jumped him and they were a mess of body parts for a few moments, trying to figure out just what they wanted from the other.
His socks were second fiddle to getting that woman out of her tank.
Paul wanted to nip and suckle at her breasts.
Her stomach.
Her neck.
Stephanie had already picked up on his obvious desire what she imagined to be a very vanilla experience.
Which was fine.
Sometimes getting railed by her husband was exactly what she needed.
But...not that day.
She enjoyed his enthusiasm though.
Paul buried his head in his boobs once he'd gotten the tank tossed to the side and Steph was on her knees over him, but this was quickly remedied as his hands found their place on her hips, guiding her backwards.
Resting against the mattress, she blinked in the longing in her husband's stare, reaching up to run a hand across his very trimmed and neat beard.
"I missed you," she whispered even though they'd fallen asleep beside one another nearly the entire week.
Pressing his forehead against the woman's, he needed no further explanation. Her intent was known.
"I missed you," he breathed back and he meant it. Absolutely. The last time he'd had her like this, completely free, she was just happy about getting time off and he was still staring a reduced schedule in the face.
The past few weeks hadn't left much time for one another.
At least not privately.
"You're so perfect." Pulling back some, Paul's knees pressed into the bed at either side of Steph's waist as he pushed up as well. He wanted to stare down at her. Take it in. The moment. Steph looked like an angel beneath him, completely bare, but unabashed as his smoldering stare was met with a curious gaze. Reaching down to ghost curled fingers against her left breast, he whispered, "All mine?"
"All yours."
"Damn." Paul snickered as he shifted, a multi-stepped process to get himself situated just right to lean down and coax a nipple in his mouth. "Stephie."
Everything felt routine.
But nice.
It would have been enough. Sweet. Very her husband. Her hands roamed his body, writhing as he treated the tender flesh around each nipple to the gentle scrapes of his teeth, only to be soothed by the rough pad of his tongue. Steph found him eventually, down below, not fully erect yet, and when her other hand pushed at his shoulder, he knew to fall back.
After all, it was his birthday.
Of course, he knew as he fell back on his butt and the woman languidly followed, but her eye were no longer locked in on his. Rather, their new target seemed to be his dick and it was just as well.
A blow was pretty low on the birthday list back in the day, but it fell right into his seemingly vanilla plans. His head fell back immediately, palms pressing into the mattress as Steph settled between his open legs. As the man loudly groaned, her lips descended his hardening penis, though she quickly pulled back to press the pad of her tongue over the pale, purple tip.
It shouldn't have been this easy, Steph thought, but he'd worked himself up some, in the two hours since they'd last seen one another, and she'd hardly done more than bob on his cock a few times, had just barely tickling his pubes and balls, before the hand he'd tangled in her hair was dragging her back up.
"I want your pussy."
"Yeah?" she giggled and he nodded, shaking his hand free of her tangled locks as the woman, with little more prompting, came to fall into the pillows finally, truly, and they could begin. He was quick to position himself over her.
"Yeah." Paul grabbed of them in one hand, a pillow, before with his other cupping Steph's hip and ushering her up. Slipping it beneath her hips, he breathed, "Good? Or another?"
"Good," Steph assured him and he snickered, reaching down to feel her now, warm and waiting. He wasn't stupid; he knew his digits didn't do all for his wife she claimed, but he reached up for her mouth, letting her suckle at his right index before plopping it from her mouth and instead probing below.
Just feeling Steph could do it for the man. There was something about it, conceptually, that drove him mad. Teasing her. Pleasing her. It was a different vibe, getting nothing out of it, but lying there, curled towards her on his side, struggling between grinding his forehead into hers or his crotch into the side of her thigh.
There was something about parts of himself disappearing in her that did it for the man.
Poetically and visually.
Physically.
His hand retreated some, shifting instead to teasingly ghosting around her vulva and she complained a bit, his name falling breathlessly from her lips in a way that made him snicker and dive back in, now solely interested in plunging a finger fully into her slickened slit. Steph gasped some, but it was with a laugh and he let out one of his own.
"I'm gonna fuck you," he told her plainly and hey, while it wasn't his best, when he withdrew his finger to toy with her clit once more, Steph's cry one a legitimate one of pleading and it wasn't long before it was his cock finding its place there instead.
"Please," Steph asked and he was already so happy.
So fulfilled.
As he slid into position, no teasing, no hesitance, just her legs curling over his waist, Paul couldn't think of anything he'd rather be doing in that moment.
But Steph could.
Though she was always captivated by anything the many gave her, she was cognizant of not getting too lost in their motions. While it was everything she wanted, there was more, she knew, that they needed to get to.
That she at least needed to offer.
They had tonight.
And when it was gone, she wasn't sure how quickly they'd get another this free.
They were so in tune that Steph didn't even need to speak. Not really. Just moan specifically as one of her legs fell from his waist and the man pulled back, nearly immediately, his head pressing into hers roughly as he groaned, "Baby?"
"Switch."
Of course.
He chuckled lowly as he pulled back further, out of her truly, and Steph felt the loss immensely.
"How?" Paul ran a hand over his face and he'd sweat a lot, out in the summer heat that day, but the kind that was dripping in his eyes was different now. Felt better. "Baby?"
"I dunno."Her legs were so long and, as she detangled herself from him, he ran a palm along the underside of one, taking in her firm thighs and tone calves.
He wanted her to squeeze his face between them until his nose turned bright red and popped off.
He had to get control of himself.
"It's your birthday, baby," she reminded as her hips slipped off the pillow and his eyes followed, entranced. Steph tossed her head back, to get her long, brown hair out of her eyes and he hated that he could no longer do the same. "It's whatever you want."
That couldn't be true though, he knew, as she'd been the one to prompt this.
So she needed more.
Something different.
And wasn't taking charge.
Got it.
He'd been with his wife long enough that he could almost always diagnose exactly what she wanted from him.
In the bedroom, at least.
"Turn over," he ordered and Steph giggled as she did what he asked, rolling over on the bed onto her belly. Shifting over as well, he ran a hand down her spin, getting the woman to shiver, and even absently slapped her ass, the sound harsh and the mark that appeared letting him know it was a bit more forceful than intended, but Steph moaned all the same, so he did it again.
And again.
The fourth time his hand came down, Steph recoiled expectantly, but his open palm found the sore cheek, pressing and rubbing into it, deeply, before drifting instead to her hip. Cupping it in his open palm, it didn't take much to get the woman to rise on all fours.
He had the prettiest wife.
From the way her boobs dangled, straight down, erect nipples standing like little thumb tacks, firm and evident, the deep, natural brown flesh standing oppose to the tanned. The way she whipped her head again, hair doing as she wanted and all falling over one shoulder as she looked back at him, expectantly, one eyebrow raised.
"Like this?" she asked, wiggling her butt for him a bit and, as Paul rose up on his knees, he was sure to spank it again, softer now, but intently as the woman's head fell some. "Baby-"
"I know." He leaned down to kiss the abused cheek. "My messy baby."
Mouth drifting, he did little more than press a kiss and breath on her mound, but it was enough for Steph who mewled in kind.
"Look at my pretty little boss." As his right hand adhered to her hip, the other drifted slowly up her side and back down, over and over, taking in every inch of her slender frame, bent over for him. Taking him. Milking him. "Pretty little wife."
Steph threw her hips back when he retreated slowly and didn't return. "Paul…"
"Mmmm?" He pushed forward and they both groaned. Through a puffed breath, he retorted, "Stephie?"
"I want you." She wiggled her ass when he fully withdrew this time and her voice was in a different register, one that made his stomach clench, knowing that for at least two decades, he'd been the only one to hear it. "So badly, baby. However you want."
"I don't think so," he snickered, running a hand over the cheek he'd yet to pay any attention, he could feel Steph tense, assuming he'd remedy this, but he only gave a squeeze before releasing it. "If there's something specific you want-"
"Just you."
"-say it."
"I want you to have a good birthday." Steph fell some, off her elbows as her head ducked down and she glanced back at him with a grin. "Honey."
"Honey," he repeated, agreed, maybe, he didn't know what they were even saying, because he was slipping back in her and they were going to build up a rhythm now.
He wanted a rhythm now.
He wanted to get there now.
Or at least close.
Steph was putting on for him, her moans a bit too loud and a bit too frequent and if he wanted her to get there with him, he had to pull out.
"Change up," he said, requested, ordered, he wasn't sure, but Steph's hips dropped without his hands there to hold them up and he was falling backwards, out of bed with a groan.
"What are you doing?" Stephanie giggled. "Paul?"
His hand was around his cock still, pumping at it, but the man was spinning about slowly, disoriented a bit. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Steph over there still and she ground against the bed, trying to keep her own arousal and fuck.
Fuck.
"I saw…" He kept glancing about. It was when he came in the first time. Steph had pulled out some stuff from her bag and he'd seen a bottle of their usual brand of lube among the stuff. But where?
"Desk," Steph offered without truly knowing, but somehow, when he glanced over at her upturned lips, he felt that she did.
But they were on different wave lengths.
Steph wasn't into it enough. Paul wasn't surprised as he felt a bit stupid, really, for waiting to get some. He dropped himself, even, knowing he needed to take a break. A breath. Calm down.
Lube was just part of things now. He knew that.
It was dumb of him to forget.
Snatching it up, he slicked himself up, over at the coffee table. His back was to the bed, but he could hear Steph moving about it and feared he was really losing her now.
A break for him during sex was a good thing, a great thing; it meant he wanted to prolong it for however long he could.
For Steph, it usually meant she was bored.
She'd never say it that way, of course, but, "Hold on, I need a drink," was one of the worst things in the world to hear and ugh, she was headed over to long, old dresser that aligned the wall. He'd snorted when he checked in, over it's outdated look and purpose (he stayed in a lot of hotel rooms and knew they were falling out of favor), but now hated it for a different reason.
Steph's water bottle was up there.
Watching her over his shoulder with big eyes, he continued to work the lube over his hardened cock as he questioned, "What are you doin', baby?"
Rather than the water bottle, her hand fell to the hard surface of the wooden dresser, pressing into it as her other hand found it's place as well. It was as she was spreading those long legs he loved so much, exposing all of herself to him under the harsh light of the hotel room lamp.
"Reposition," Steph answered incredulously, as if he should have never been in doubt.
The huff of breath that left his nostrils then brought a tingle deep within the woman.
And even still, as he came closer, she knew he had yet to fully connect the dots.
"Look at that." His tone was low and he felt in control. "Just for me? Stephie, you shouldn't have."
Head falling, Steph whispered, "Can I have a kiss?"
The man chuckled, stepping into place behind her. Leaning over the woman, he pressed one first to her cheek and then to her lips before insisting before then, "You can have anything you want."
"Really?"
He assured her of this by pressing against her, but not in, as he leaned awkwardly against the woman, forcing her fully into the dresser as they made out. His tongue invited his in and this was where he belonged.
This was his place.
But...Steph knew not quite.
Close.
Just not there yet.
Pulling her head back from his, she drew in a ragged breath before ordering the man, "Kiss my ass."
Paul's grin fell, but more due to his brain processing power diverting else where.
Ass.
"Yeah?" He slammed his forehead too hard into hers that time, but Stephanie was tough.
She could take anything.
"Your ass?" Paul pulled back as well then. "You want you to kiss your ass?"
"Please, baby?" She felt her stomach flip and he could turn her down.
He wouldn't.
He never had.
To anything.
But he could.
"Eat me," Steph requested and he dropped immediately to the ground to do so.
It wasn't a common thing they did.
There was was a very big push towards eating ass for a hot minute and Steph could get caught up in a trend very quickly.
Not for herself.
But she'd spent a lot of the mid 2010s mentioning this or that celebrity gossip site dropping details on a new couple admitting to such (or at least being pinned to it by social media) and he eventually found himself catching on.
It wasn't his favorite thing to do.
But it did let help him figure out why Steph had wanted to get to the hotel so much earlier than .
She must've soaked in the tub for awhile as her flesh, all of it, had smelled like a specific spice the entire time, but then, as he first pressed his face just against her ass, nose rested on the crack, and breathed.
She laughed.
Like he knew she would.
Stephanie had more than scrubbed herself clean for him, but that didn't stop the man's tongue from bathing the back of her thighs and ass cheeks. Just this alone had Steph's voice actually raising pitch, truly now, as she encouraged him, egging the man on.
"Please, baby." She bit her lip and glanced back there at him, down on the ground, head buried in her ass. Her moan then was involuntary, just from the image. She wanted to ingrained. Burned over. Every other image in her life. "Kiss me."
"Kiss ya?" Both his hands came to her cheeks then, not truly having to pry much apart given how spread the woman was. Laughing lowly, he stared at the tight, bleached and waxed starfish before him and snickered. "I'mma make love to ya."
The sensation was always unnerving for the woman.
It was hardly something that had ever found its way into their more frequent bedroom activities. As he tongued her anus, Steph wasn't quite sure the last she'd even requested it of the man. And it sure was a by request activity.
But she knew not an undesirable one.
Because Paul knew what came back.
He was having to contain himself, stroking softly at his dick as his tongue coaxed at Steph's ass. Now there was an incentive for holding off. More so than just needing his wife to reach climax with him.
In fact that was off the table now.
Steph had changed the game.
Panting, he pulled back some to remind, "Relax, baby. Don't that feel good?"
"Yes," she agreed and he angled his chin to brush against her entrance now, the woman mewling in response. "Paul-"
"Take good care of my wife. My boss." He ran finger from her tailbone to her anus, circling, but not entering. "My CEO."
"Lube-"
"I got it." But before he used it, he leaned in close again to press a kiss against her entrance, the cracked flesh of his lips tickling the sensitive flesh. "Sweetie. Baby. Goddamn, I love you. Forever, huh?" He brought the bottle of lube up to ass crack, squeezing a glob of it out right at the start and then watching it slip down. Running a finger through it, he went back to teasing her entrance as he declared lowly, "Forever."
Steph could only moan.
Anal sex was more common for them than ass eating, but still not by much. It was more time consuming, for one thing, usually, and they rarely had such luxury. Even now, it probably wasn't the best place.
Steph usually liked to be at the lake house, alone for the weekend and bored.
Or just super horny.
They were frequently that.
But they were practiced enough to have it down somewhat. He'd rushed before and lost access before. He had to be gentler. At first. Lube was their friend. Best friend. And try very hard to keep Steph relaxed.
She was a tightly wound person for the most part.
And trying to please him was one of the things that could bring tension to her back.
It's where he always noted it first. Even then, the coolness of the lube caused her to go rigid momentarily and he pressed lazy kisses to the back of her left thigh as his thumb circled three times and then pressed the pad of itself against the starfish opening, teasing.
Hoping.
"I love you," he whispered as she hummed. "I do, Stephie. Please always stay with me, huh? Always love me."
She shut her eyes as her own hand snaked below to play with her bundle of nerves. "Always."
"Always." He nodded, knowing it was true. Letting out a hot breath of air, he assured her, "I'm going to rip your ass apart."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah." His thumb found its way in, but he quickly withdrew it before shift to his slicked index. Disappearing. Into her. His forehead was cushioned by his wife's ass when his head fell forward. "Leave ya bloody."
"No."
Right.
No.
"Leave you all full of cum."
"Yeah."
"Yeah." His finger slipped out and he rose to his feet. "Leaking it."
"All over."
"There's just gonna be so much of it." He was back to fiddling with the lube, needing more. "Hot, slick, just like your pretty little ass, baby."
"That's so good, Paul," she assured him as a finger found her entrance again. "You take such good of me."
"Damn right." Taking in a deep breath, his other hand ran up the length of her back, pressing down slightly as his finger began to glide effortlessly through the barrier. She was almost ready. He had to take a moment out and think. "Sexy wife."
Steph shoved up a bit as both his hands left her body. Glancing behind her, she watched him drizzle liberal amounts of lube straight across the length of his dick. His eyes were fixated down on it, watching himself as he ran his hands over the water based solution, hoping to leave no room for friction.
Smooth.
Gaze remaining down, he turned back to her with his dick in one hand, other palming her ass, before he tapped, gently, with the head at her cheek. He seemed transfixed, hesitant maybe, and Steph knew it wouldn't be long.
"Please, baby," she begged and he nodded, raising his eyes to meet the longing ones peering over her shoulder. She ached for him, in a way this wouldn't fulfill, and turned to face forward once more as she shut her eyes. "Fill me up."
"I want to." He squeezed her ass and took another step forward, so he could better align her entrance to the cock straining in his hands. "But you gotta promise, if it's too much-"
"Shut up, Paul." She drew in a breath as she felt his cap press against her. "Now."
He liked when she was mean. When she finally had enough of him. When she didn't think that all of his safeguards and checking in was so sweet. It wasn't a reaction he could draw from her under normal circumstances; short of directly defying her, he mostly hung the moon in the woman's eyes.
She did the same for him. Light of his life.
But sometimes she didn't want to be.
Stephanie need him to, well, not use her, but just…
Not care as much.
She wanted him to just shove in already; she was ready.
His wife got a bit meaner when she felt like he couldn't turn his assertiveness on and off as easily, between the sheets. He had to be worked up to it, here, and she knew no better way than griping at him.
Paul eased in, regardless, over the course of a minute or more. Steph wasn't sure.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered more than once and she knew from past experience that if she gave any indication of the affirmative, that it would end.
Or he'd go back to slicking her up, maybe, now even more docile, and it just wasn't as good.
Plus, it didn't hurt.
Not really.
Less pain, more...discomfort.
At first.
Unequivocal to it's counter part, the sensation wasn't instantaneous relief or pleasure.
Not for her at least.
She could hear her husband behind her, panting and whispering stuff, voice husky and low as he promised things, pledged them, she had everything she ever wanted, he knew, but if she just asked...
"Just ask," he muttered and he wasn't really talking to her, she knew, just filling air, time, as he sank further into her depths. "Anything, Stephie. Princess. Fuck. Baby. How are you real?"
"Stay," she ordered him at his hilt, but he'd go nowhere else regardless.
"So good." He loved the angle of her spine, bent as she twisted some, trying to find the best place for him. He imagined grabbing her leg and tossing it up there, right beside her hands and fucking her, full on, no concerns at all. "Stephie…"
She thought of it too, separately, as left hand drifted from her hip and stroked slightly down her outer thigh, but didn't voice it.
Wouldn't risk it.
Imagine if she wasn't that flexible.
Anymore…
"Slow," she cautioned softly as she shoved up fully on her palms, elbows bent acutely as her husband did as she asked.
Or at least tried.
The sensation was too much and maybe he withdrew a bit more swiftly than he'd intended. All the way out. Steph moaned, even, when he was gone, and it made Paul lean down to press his face in the small of her back and kiss.
"Again?" he asked and instead of truly answering, she only verbalized as much with a high pitched hum. "Slow?"
That one got a shake of the head in the negative and Paul grinned before reaching back for where he'd left the lube by her hands.
Everything was so slick, he wasn't even sure that he was even doing anything to help at this point, but but he teased Steph with a re-upped finger, to which she griped and oh yeah.
Fuck yeah.
She could hear in his breathing that he finally felt assured of her comfort.
It didn't matter how many times she explained it to the man; he just didn't get it. He couldn't. He thought he did, sort of, because she'd finger his ass before and that felt...different, but Steph always claimed they liked it for different reasons.
"You have a prostate."
"You did not find my prostate," he snickered, when they discussed it. "You hardly would even go a knuckle deep. I slurp your goddamn asshole and you can't even give me a two for?"
That day they were in her office, her finishing up paperwork while he bounced about, finished with his own probably.
The early NXT days.
He was much more brass.
"I've told you," she continued on, ignoring his very valuable feedback, "you're sliding over the back side my vag."
"Vag." He whistled and glanced over at the pic of her dad that hung on Steph's wall, fingers for horns and mimicking his closest counterpart. "We can say vag here now?"
"It's good." Steph blushed though her tone held. They were alone, she knew for certain that evening, given the late hour. They spent a lot of those either alone or together, in the Towers. "Different. I can't explain it."
She couldn't then either, in the moment, all those years later as she allowed the man to do the same.
It was unreal.
Like a pressure that shouldn't be there, building on the other side of her clit and slit and she'd wondered, before, what it would be like if there was something also…
But the best she could manage then, had ever worked herself up to do, was slide a finger between her slit and it was enough.
But Paul's was better.
He could lose himself in a motion and though the initial concern over hurting her overrode it, now it reappeared.
Or disappeared.
His did did, at least.
Into her.
Shit.
Fuck.
Into her ass.
Over and over and again.
The dresser was shaking, banging slightly against the wall, and if he closed his eyes, they were at home and he could take her anywhere in the house. If he pulled out. Carry her down to the couch or the gym. Imagine taking her on the kitchen table. At the lake house. Or fuck, that hotel suite that they stayed at that time, somewhere in fucking Europe, was it Europe? The one with the sunk floor, down to where the bed was, and had a railing around the steps and Steph sucked him off while he leaned against it, but imagine-
Steph was shifting too much. He thought she was uncomfortable before he noted her hand straining underneath to reach her snatch.
"Hold on, baby," he pleaded as she complained when, upon withdrawing this time, he didn't reach for lube, but rather took a full step back from her. "C'mere."
Snatching the lube on his way, Paul led her back to the bed, Steph giggling a bit when he roughly shoved her towards it, trying first to get on all fours.
"Nah, babe." He patted her ass as he re-lubed. "Curl up."
She didn't quite get what he meant at first, but Paul was willing to help. With slick hands he shoved her fully to the bed, until she was resting on her side, and then grabbed her hips and pulled them closer to the edge of the bed.
"You still good?" he asked as a minute or more had passed. He didn't want her to tense on him. "Honey?"
Steph nodded and she looked so good like that, so perfect, fuck.
Fuck.
It felt even better to Steph this time.
The withdraw could feel a little, well….not good, but the upward stroke was worth it. Especially when she reached down this time and the man, noting it, batted her hand away.
"I got you, baby." He roughly pawed at her pussy. "You like that?"
Yes and no.
Mainly, she could see him better now, his face and the constraints it pulled when she clenched around him, rewarding when his hand calmed a bit and he found her clit. As he sucked in a breath though, it trailed further and she got them thing, his thick, calloused fingers, nails always neatly trimmed and each digit soft to the touch.
He took care of himself. Always. To be able to take care of her.
"I love you," she promised and he believed her, as her hand found his arm and squeezed it tightly. "Paul. Forever."
Fuck.
When he pulled from her that time, she knew why and he wasn't fast enough, really, as he finished on her thighs and Steph moaned while he only took steps back afterwards, one hand absently stroking at his cock as the other rubbed any part of his body it could reach.
They both angled to look at it, him straight forward and Steph have to awkwardly twist to see her own back end. Streaks of residue remained, sliding down his wife's tanned thighs and fuck if he wasn't going flaccid…
Steph thought that he was going to get her a towel from the adjoining bathroom. Dropping a hand back down on herself, she planned to finish up (or at least toy a bit) before he returned to praise the ground she walked.
It was her favorite part.
But, through the mirror on the opposite wall, she could see through the opened bathroom door and was equally amused, turned on, and kind of annoyed that he immediately took to brushing his teeth.
It was quick though. He even grabbed the little sampler mouthwash on the hotel sink and swished it around.
"Uh, a rag?" she called out as he returned, yes, with one, but didn't even moved to toss it on her. Just slowly stalk back to the bed. "Paul-"
"Can't cross contaminate, babe."
"What are you talking about?" she asked with a frown as he he grabbed the pillow he'd initially leveraged her hips with and used it to help him settle down at the headboard.
But he only grinned as it was his turn to order, "Sit on my face."
Stephanie giggled, thinking it was a joke. "What?"
"I'm serious." And though he'd said these words to her before, it had surely been in the first decade of their relationship. "Come sit on my face, Stephanie."
The woman was frozen, a blush creeping over her face that was stronger, even, than when he'd knelt between her ass and feasted.
She wasn't quite sure why.
There was something about him asking.
Or….was there something about him asking?
Steph figured a bit of both.
"It's my birthday." He didn't look at her, but the hand nearest her shook the washcloth clasped in it. "Clean up. Or don't. Then sit on my face."
"You're so weird."
"Am not."
"I'll suffocate you."
"It's how I always wanted to go."
"Paul-"
He stroked his beard. "Please, Stephanie?"
Hearing him beg was too much. Much like before, she jumped him now, but with different intent. When she shoved up, he didn't follow. Only swallowed and squeeze the bed sheets between his fists in anticipation.
Each knee even with his ears, she didn't fully bring her pussy to his face, but rather required him to angle his neck a bit and lean up.
It was uncomfortable.
It was the best experience of his life.
He fell asleep at the meeting, was that it? He fell asleep and he was going to wake up and go to the hotel and be glad when Steph let's him take it from behind and pick what they watch on TV.
Right?
"Fuck," he finally got out of her and this was heaven, she was god.
Not a goddess, priestess, she was literally God, he was fucking God and he was at her mercy. She controlled his fate now, truly. It was pretend before. Through a serious of steps. But he'd signed more and more of his life away to the woman; now she also ruled his workplace.
Being a disciple had never held higher dividends.
But it wasn't fully true.
God was at his mercy.
And she was losing control.
It didn't help that it was drive home to Steph, as she bucked her hips slightly and shifted frequently, trying to find some sort of position that made this work, unsure of why she had suck a hard time now.
It was because of his hair.
It had been so long since they were last like this, since he last asked for this, that he had hair then and she'd tugged it and pulled it and….
Her breathing felt too rapid.
Eyes fluttering.
She wasn't even talking to him then, she was singing for him, like she thought he did for her, but no, this was it, this was music, and he thought, Steph was assured of it now, that she was just as worth doing this for, as she was ten years ago.
Because time really didn't matter to them.
They aged together.
With one another.
"Forever," he growled at her, professed his love, whatever he was doing when he said that, shes didn't care, she just didn't wanna fall back on his chest and she was there and it was over so she fell over some, to the side, her toe nearly nicking his eyes.
He didn't even think he would have complained.
A memento.
A reminder.
That the night happened.
As he quickly bundled the woman up in his arms and nuzzled his head into her neck, sighing finally, out of breath, out of shape, maybe, he worried, but shit.
Fuck.
The woman took everything out of him.
"Please don't go," he begged as she rose from the bed, from his arms. Something in his tone broke her will though and he though the won, at least for another minute or two, but as she pressed he head into his and nuzzled, he knew he'd lost her.
At least for a little bit.
"Soon," she promised and he wanted to offer to carry her off to the bathroom, even if she was insistent on him leaving her there, but she seemed like she didn't even want him near her then. While it wasn't quite regret in his wife's eyes, he did understand her a little bit. Lust was sated and now there was a slightly gross undertone to what they'd done. Or at least an oddity for them.
They needed a moment to breathe.
And actually clean up.
"Order us dinner." She turned to press a wet kiss against his fuzzy cheek as her left hand stroked down the back of his head and then his neck, finger curling as they tickled his spine, sending tingles up it. "I know you didn't eat."
"I had a full course waiting for me back here," he remarked and Steph laughed now with no seduction or sexiness. It was loud and obnoxious.
His baby.
It was hard not to pull her back down to the bed.
He knew she'd be in the bathroom for awhile.
Cleaning herself up.
If anything, he was jealous.
Still, she hadn't used that rag he brought back for her and, after pouring some water from the bottle over it, he made do.
Paul felt kind of empty, honestly. He and Steph usually cleaned up together, but he knew that what they done was, well, a bit more intimate and perhaps not only did she want to be alone, but he shouldn't really wanna be around.
It also gave him a chance to claim rights on the TV.
He almost pinched himself when he realized it was still early enough for TV.
When Steph returned, he jumped up immediately, having only tugged on a pair of shorts, but Stephanie shoved him away immediately and ordered him to go shower.
"You're gross."
"You made me gross!"
"Shower." She truly seemed perturbed.
The nerve.
Steph had stripped the thick top comforter they'd fucked on, tossing it in a hype at the foot of the bed while she sat over on the couch, apparently having gotten the room service.
"How'd you end up with the TV?" he griped as he slid in beside her, grabbing his now lukewarm pork chip. "And did you eat some of my spinach? I'll breath test you, Stephie."
"You're really ruining this show for me."
"It's my birthday."
"Is not."
"It's the day we're celebrating it."
"I fully compensated you for any belatedment."
"That's not a word, you know. Hey, what exactly are the qualification to become CEO?"
"Belatedness."
"You're stealing my bits, you know?"
"You're ruining the show."
Paul shifted closer and then closer still until Steph giggled and they had tonight.
He wanted to tell her that tomorrow he'd wake her softly and they'd make love before breakfast and they had to shift back into their current routine.
But...he also wasn't sure how Steph would feel in the morning (or how she'd play up feeling, as she always liked to exaggerate a limp a bit, maybe, he could admit, sometimes) or...him too so…
"When we get up in the morning, I'll take you to breakfast." He loved looking down into her eyes, especially when she smiled so easily for him.
"Well, we do need to celebrate me more, so-"
"I ate your ass woman."
Steph choked and then laughed and he didn't break, but jaw slackened some and he felt the same as the woman.
Relaxed.
"What more," he finished, "do you want?"
"Just you," she assured him and Paul believed her, because she never lied to him. "Always you."
Forever.
So when I conceptualized this, it was just the base act (actually separate of Steph and trips, lol), but then CEO, Head of Creative, and birthday all happened at once and I decided to use them as the template. This is relevant because I didn't know Summer Slam was this weekend and decided to alerted some stuff that think gave it a better feel, anyways.
Was this too much? I really can't tell about those sorts of things, so sorry if it was too much. I've also considered moving these stories off Fanfic entirely and over to Archive (I don't post wrestling shit over there and haven't up to this point, but someone did ask me to once a long time ago and if you guys would like to see these over there instead, I can do that). Or would you guys like them posted on both? It doesn't matter to me. I also used to upload writing a lot on Tumblr and still semi do, so if you wanted them over there, that's chill too.