Her Head v. Her Heart
(Caution: This chapter contains sexual content.)
A/N: I'm gonna be honest with you guys - the first chapter of this story is not, in my opinion, anywhere close to the best thing I've written. I'm okay with it, since I felt like it had the humor that The Emancipation is missing, so I'll be proud of that. But I promise you, it will get better. I drew up an outline today, and now I have a direction, so that's a plus. And mybest friend in the whole world, Arykah, decided to challenge me a little bit further, as well. So I am now going to try to work at least one quote from my out-of-control,off-the-wall, completely randomfriends, into each chapter of the story. The first chapter was easy,because I just wrote out what we (me, Arykah, and our friend Liv) talked about during Wrestlemania this year. I told them that I couldn't explain why I thought Batista was so fuckin' sexy - I just knew he had that certain "something" that made me want to lick him every time I saw him come to the ring - either in a suit, or his ring attire. We were a little drunk, and the rest of the chapter came out of that.
Afterdeveloping an actual outline, though, I think it'sgonna be a harder challenge tomeet, especially in chapters like this one. I managed to do it this time- and I will do it in the rest, even if it kills me. Just in case I run out of crazy shit, though, feel free to send me some random-ness from you and your friends, and I'll try to work it in, too. Here's the catch - it has to be something you guys came up with on your own, because I don't want shit that someone was paid to write (like in a script or a book). When I use your line, I'll give you credit - for sure.
Also,I have no idea who Trish is going to end up with in this story. It's a fifteen-chapter story, and I have everything planned up through fourteen. After that, it's up to you guys. Let me know who you think she should be with, and I'll go with the popular vote. Because Kaos-Land is nothing if not democratic, even if I call myself the Queen.
Finally, I don't own Batista, Stratus, or Cena - as per usual, I'm just using them for my own entertainment and pleasure. And happy belated birthday to TrishOrton. Thanks for all your support. And everyone else who keeps stroking my ego and encouraging me to soldier on, you guys rock, hard-core style! I promise, I am now done yammering - on with the story.
Anticipatory beads of sweat coursed down her neck, caught the flickering light, and began to pool in the hollow of her throat, as his strong hands gently laid her bronzed body against the cool satin sheets. He rested his weight on his elbows as he hovered above her and stared beyond the depths of her dark, desire-clouded eyes. The muted glow from the bedside candles caught the shimmer of her hair, causing a stark contrast between her golden locks and the blood red color of the fabric.
With trembling fingers, she clutched the back of his head, eliciting a hungry growl from the back of his throat as he dipped his head and ran the tip of his tongue from her throat to her chin. Plunging past her lips, into the recesses of her mouth, his kisses probed her deeper and deeper, until she felt herself beginning to fall. Trish sank her nails into his back as she arched hers and begged him to devour her. No one had ever touched her like he did, with expert motions that awakened an animal which had laid dormant in her core for so many years.
As his steady, confident hands slid down her sides, she felt the goose bumps on her arms standing at attention. As he ran a calloused palm over her smooth stomach, a moan she couldn't control escaped her lips. As he moved his lips to her collarbone, and his touch to her hip, she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, determined not to cry out before he had even entered her.
He continued to explore her with one hand as he raised his head and watched the pleasure contorting her beautiful features. She gasped for a quick breath, her chest rising and whispering a suggestion of a touch against his, sending a million tingling echoes up and down his spin in its wake. The slightest hint of her tongue peeked out and touched her lips, retreating before he could capture it as she returned to biting back her pleasure.
"Let it go, Baby," he whispered before his lips enveloped her ear and his tongue circled the lobe slowly. She growled and thrust her hips against his hand desperately.
He withdrew his fingers sharply and then placed both hands on the sides of her face, meeting her hips with his and filling her instantly. She cried out, tears forming in the corners of her tightly clenched eyes and he brushed the blonde locks from her skin, running his thumb slowly over her bottom lip. To feel her, pained by the pleasure only he could give, made him feel one hundred times more masculine than any title or any match would ever be able to accomplish.
She began to tighten around him and he slowed his pase, despite her groans of protest. "Open your eyes, Trish," he encouraged. "Look at me, Sweetheart," he added. She shook her head, and gasped, as he thrust hard and fast and then pulled back again. "I want you to see me."
Trish opened her eyes and smiled into the face that seemed to know her so well, inside and out. She took in every dark, handsome feature – from his probing eyes to his chiseled cheeks to the little patch of hair leading from his lip to the end of his chin. Everything about Dave Batista was forever etched into her mind. And she couldn't let it go.
"Damn, Girl," John grunted as he finally rolled off of her and blinked at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a heavy pattern that mirrored Trish's as she gasped for breath and tightened a sheet around her naked body. "You are gonna fuckin' kill me someday." He rolled his head to the side and winked when he caught her eye. "Or kill me fuckin'."
She laughed and placed a quick kiss on his full lips, before brushing her sweat-matted hair from her face, and resting her head on his chest. She knew it was wrong – fantasizing about one man while lying with another, but her body wouldn't respond to anyone like it had responded to Dave. No matter how enthusiastic, or athletic, or adventurous John was, he wasn't Dave. It wasn't that he was bad – by most standards, he was fuckin' great. And Trish knew that, had she met him first, she would have considered him the best she'd ever had. But she'd had Dave – the man who was mind-blowing and body-numbing on a bad day.
Since she was a little girl, Trish had always believed that she would meet a man whom she could love with her body, soul, mind, and spirit. Instead, fate's fucked up sense of humor gave her body and mind to one man, and her soul and spirit to another. She didn't know how, or if she would be able, to ever reconcile the two. But, as she felt John's body rise and fall with the rhythm of peaceful sleep, she realized that she was okay with the arrangement fate had given her. As long as neither Dave, nor John, ever found out what hid in the darkest corners of her mind.
Credit for this chapter's challenge line goes to my chica, Olivia Dawn, who once told me that her girlfriend was going to fuckin' kill her, or kill her fuckin'. In the next chapter. . . Batista and Trish finally have a conversation - and you get to find out what the hell Trish was thinkin' when she left him high and dry. Oh, the suspense.