Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, do not have permission to use their names.
Clash
Wednesday night. Show long over. Local watering hole. Usually he didn't join the crowd, but tonight was different. Perhaps it was loneliness, or longing. He wasn't quite sure what, but it wasn't enough to make him want to join the crowd. He sat in the shadows nursing a beer. Watching.
Only a few still remained. Basham of course, you couldn't expect him to sit on the sidelines. Cena, Constantino, the Dogg...and the woman. He took another swallow of beer and focused his attention on her.
She had only been down at OVW for a month or so, and already she'd made an impact. She was a hard worker, not afraid to take bumps. Her sparkling eyes, long black hair, softly rounded hips. He closed his eyes. "Stop it," he whispered.
"Hey doll, let me buy you a drink."
His eyes opened at the over-loud, slurred sounding voice. One of the locals hovered over her, standing way too close.
"Lay off," she said, turning her head.
"That ain't no way to treat a fan," the lout persisted. "C'mon Queen Victoria. Let your measly subject buy you a drink."
From where he sat, he could see the man pushing closer to Victoria, rubbing himself against her lewdly.
"I said no," Victoria repeated calmly. She dug into her pocket and flipped some quarters on to the bar next to her. "Now why don't you take yourself off like a good boy and play the jukebox."
"Ahh," the drunkard said, reaching out to close a hand over her hair. "Jukebox isn't warm and willing like you are though." He bent forward and whispered none to softly in her ear, "Can't fuck a jukebox."
His feet hit the floor. Basham should be here looking out for her, but he was off in the corner with some floozy, his back to the room. He prepared to stand, but before he could, Victoria turned toward the man.
"Listen asshole," she said and reached down to close her hand over the man's crotch. She squeezed and the man's eyes got bigger, his mouth opened and he gasped like a fish out of water. She continued in a steady voice, "If you back away right now I won't hurt you. If you're not careful you won't be fucking anything for a while. When I say no, I mean no."
With another squeeze, she pushed the man backwards, and he stumbled to the floor, knocking a barstool over as he fell. The commotion drew the attention of the rest of the patrons, and Basham hurried over to her side.
"What happened?" he asked, gazing down at the man, fists clenched.
"Nothing," Victoria said, turning away. "Go back to your whore."
He sat back, a smile touching his lips. She was fierce. He realized she was the one that had drawn him here, drawn him out of his shell.
The drunkard slunk away, Basham returned to the floozy, and he stood from his table and sauntered toward the bar. He picked up the toppled stool, and sat down next to her. At his nod, the bartender brought him a beer, and another glass of wine for her.
She eyed him for a moment, then murmured, "What do you want?"
He smiled his enigmatic smile again, his voice a soft drawl, "Nothin'. Do you mind if I join you?"
She sighed and pulled the wineglass toward her. "I don't need protection, if that's what you mean."
"I can see that. I wasn't offering protection, just conversation."
Victoria eyed him out of the corner of her eye. Tall, muscular, light gleaming on his shaved head. She'd noticed him before, and deduced that she should just stay out of his path. No one crossed Leviathan, and from what she'd seen, no one talked to him either.
"Conversation?" she asked at last. "You don't strike me as the conversational type."
He smiled, and cocked his head. "Well, what do I strike you as then? Hmmm? A monster?"
She returned the smile and sipped her wine. "Demon of the deep aren't you?"
"Eh," he said, large fist closed around the beer glass, "It's a living. Kind of like you being the Queen."
With a snort she turned her head. "That stops at the arena. Here I'm just Lisa."
"Lisa," he said, turning his head too.
"And what about you? It stop at the arena, or are you still the mysterious demon."
"Dave," he said softly.
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "Dave," she repeated. "I thought it was a secret."
"Nah," he shook his head. "JC has this notion that I should practice remaining in character all the time. Says that's what the WWE stars have to do. He's got some notion that will be me someday."
"It will be," she said fervently, and then blushed. "I mean, that's what everyone says."
He shrugged his large shoulders. "Whatever happens, happens. I'm content to stay in the shadows for now."
"I've noticed that," she said softly. "Keep to yourself mostly." She gave a nervous laugh. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you."
He turned toward her, an intense look on his face, "Not that," he said fiercely.
There was an awkward silence, both gazing at one another. At last she slid from the stool and stood.
"Look," she said softly. "I should go before Romeo bulks up for round two."
He nodded, and remained on his barstool.
"I, uh," she said as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. She extended her hand, "I'll see you on Saturday."
He wiped his hand on the leg of his pants, and took hers, holding it for a moment. "Yes, you will."
St. Therese's gym was always hot. Even in the dead of winter. All those bodies crammed together. Lisa always felt as if the crowd turned into one leering mass of testosterone driven freaks when the Revolution came out. She didn't fear them, but she had to admit that sometimes it made her feel uncomfortable. The set up put them so close she could almost feel them breathing on her as she stood on the apron.
"Coming out for a drink after?" Doug panted as he tagged Damaja in and joined her in the corner.
Damaja walked straight into the massive arm of Leviathan and slammed back on the canvas. Lisa shivered in spite of the heat.
"No, not tonight."
The crowd was loud, so Doug shouted into her ear, "I promise to keep a better eye out this time. Those low-lifes won't fuck with you, I promise."
Her eyes glued to the man she now thought of as "Dave" she shouted back. "Tired. Just going home to a nice hot bath."
Doug shrugged. "Suit yourself."
The match ended with Damaja falling victim to the mighty Demon Bomb. Dave's eyes met Lisa's across the ring as Briscoe counted three.
It was beginning to sprinkle as Lisa hurried across the parking lot. She hunched over, looking at the ground, and didn't see the figure lurking by her car.
"Hey."
"Fuck," she gasped, looking up and raising her arms in defense.
Dave blinked at her, undeterred. "Spotted your Romeo in the crowd, and I know you don't need protection, but I came anyway."
"Dear god Dave," she said, lowering her arms. "You startled me."
"Just like he would have if I didn't get here first," he replied, looking over his shoulder at the man skulking away at the edge of the parking lot.
"Shit," Lisa said, digging out her keys with shaking hands. "Thanks Dave. I'm not usually so oblivious."
"I know," he said with a shrug, standing back away from her car.
She unlocked the door, then looked up, blinking as the rain fell into her eyes. "Need a lift?"
"Actually, I drove over with BJ. He and Damien are headed out for a drink, and I was thinking of just going home. So, if you don't mind..."
"Not at all," she said, shaking off the last of the nervousness. "Just tell me where to."
He rounded the end of the car, tossed his bag into the backseat and climbed in the passenger side. "Head down Bardstown Road. It's close to the mall."
After a few minutes of small talk about the show, they drove in silence, the wipers making a squishing sound on the windshield. Lisa pulled up to a stop and snapped the ignition off.
At last Dave said softly, "Still lost in thought?"
"Hmmm?" Lisa responded vaguely.
"Unless I miss my guess, this is your place."
"Oh," she gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "It is." She turned to look at him, her blush covered by the dark. "I'm sorry."
Before she could start the car again, Dave reached over and put his hand over hers on the key. "Did you...drive here for a reason?"
"No," she said, flustered. "It's like you said, I'm still lost in thought. I -- it will take me five minutes to drive you back."
He inched closer to the edge of his seat, leaning over so that his cheek pressed close to hers. "Care to tell me what you were thinking about?"
She made a strangled sound and shook her head.
"Was it the same thing I was thinking about perhaps?"
The very air in the small car was charged. She whispered, "I...don't know..."
"I was thinking about black hair fanned out on a pillow, and soft moans that rise to a crescendo. I was thinking about how it's been a long time, and how hungry I've become." His fingers caressed the back of her hand gently. "I was thinking about you...under me."
Lisa closed her eyes and sagged back against her seat, barely breathing.
Dave continued the caress up her arm, leaning back so that his cheek was pressed against hers again.
"I'm not like that lowlife in the bar though, so if this isn't what you were thinking, then tell me now. No hard feelings. I'll get out and walk home, none the wiser."
"No," she said, her voice a bare whisper. "I...was thinking that. Not with quite the same flowery language you used. I was thinking of you...fucking me."
His nose edged along her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. His lips caressed the shell of her ear. "Fucking," he whispered.
Her shaking hands were steadied by his. Clothing removed, lights kept dim. Soon she was sprawled across the bed, midnight dark hair fanned out on the pillow, lips parted, neck arched up in need. Gently, he covered her, fitting the lower half of his body in the cradle of her legs. A large hand smoothed against her brow. Tender lips touched her brow, her cheekbone, and the curve of her neck.
"Dave," she whispered breathlessly, "I'm not porcelain, I won't break."
"I know," he whispered back.
Still he moved slowly, gentle hands that belied the fierceness of his outward exterior. He shifted to the side, one leg still between hers, pinning her to the mattress.
His fingers slipped from her face, over the arch of her neck. She gasped when he flicked them across her nipple, and bowed off the bed toward him. He continued down over the gentle curve of her belly and teased against the nest of curls at her center.
Soft moans, her own hands gripped in the covers. He pressed his lips against the taut nipple in a gentle kiss.
"Dave...god...please..."
Her voice trailed away in a gasp when he slid his fingers lower, down to dip in the well of her juices, up to find the nub of her clit. Just as he found it he opened his mouth, the stud in his tongue pressing against the tip of her breast.
For a moment she was frozen, and then in a flash a small orgasm rippled through her, so intense was the dual sensation. Slowly, he stroked her with both thumb and forefinger. He opened his mouth wider, taking more of the mound of her breast.
Her body stiffened as she worked hard to hold herself back from the full explosion she knew was waiting. She concentrated on the feel of him, on the smell of his heightening arousal. She stirred restlessly against the covers, legs widening, silently urging him.
When he drew his fingers away, she whimpered. "Shh," he soothed, rising up to kneel between her legs.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she gazed up at him. The fiery sunburst around his navel, the light in the hallway playing over the dragon on his upper arm. His eyes half closed, watching as she studied him, a shiver when her eyes trailed down to rest on his erection, almost as if she were touching him instead of just looking. It twitched against his belly.
Without urging, she raised her knees, spreading herself before him. He moved with liquid grace, guiding himself to her. Her gasp caught in her throat as he began to fill her.
One hand searched for and found hers, prying it from the covers, gripping it tightly. The other cradled the back of her head. He held himself still, feeling her inner passage flutter around him, adjust to him.
The gasp released when he began to move. Slowly at first, building up momentum. She wrapped her legs around him, rocking up against him.
His lips curved back in a near snarl as the climax neared. Her moans intensified until at last she squeezed his hand, rolled her head back on the pillow and nearly screamed. He stilled momentarily, letting the release course through her, letting her feel it completely.
When he sensed her body relaxing, he let go of her hand, propping himself up over her, and began to slam into her the way he knew she had wanted from the beginning. Deep thrusts, his body slapping against hers.
His release matched hers in intensity, powerful hips stilled for the barest moment, filling her with his seed. Then he pumped against her again, slowing until he finally stopped. His brow dipped against hers.
Outside the rain had increased, they heard it against the window. He rolled to the side, slipping out of her, pulling her against him, and wrapping his arms around her.
"That was..." she said softly.
"Amazing," he finished her thought.
"Yeah."
She settled back against him, pulled his hand up to rest against her chest, her lips pressed against the back of it. They remained curled together, dozing, listening to the rain, touching.
After a while he got up and dressed. He perched on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into his strong arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Next time," he said softly.
"Soon," she replied, pushing up to kiss him.
Wednesday night. Lisa sat at the bar, nursing a glass of wine. It was the same as usual, the same people. Doug had long since given up on trying to drag her into a game of pool.
"Hey doll, let me buy you a drink."
"Listen asshole," she said, the words dying in her mouth when she turned.
He smiled a lopsided smile at her.
"You devil," she whispered softly.
"Demon," Dave countered. He reached for her hand.
She slipped from the barstool and took his hand, following him to the door. They slipped out unnoticed.
Weeks slipped into months, Dave and Lisa slipped into an easy routine. Wednesdays and Saturdays always, the odd day here and there for good measure. Comfortable. On the outside nothing was changed, but inside they both looked forward to their trysts.
Rain gave way to sultry heat. Lisa reclined on the bed filing her nails while Dave finished up in the shower. She still sucked in her breath when he emerged from her bathroom, naked and faintly gleaming.
"That's a pretty picture," he murmured softly, advancing toward her.
She smiled up at him and set the nail file aside.
"You're not too bad yourself," she said, settling back against the pile of pillows.
"Not pretty," he said, climbing up, covering her with his weight.
"Oh, I don't know," she said as she reached up to smooth her hands over his bald head. "Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder."
He moved forward, lips brushing over hers, "You're good for me Lise," he said softly.
Her response was a moan, followed by a deep kiss.
He always started with a kiss, the cool steel tongue stud sliding over the inside of her mouth. The kiss continued along the curve of her jaw, over her pulse point, down to tease along her clavicle. He made her feel so special because he took his time this way, exploring her body with delight as if seeing it, tasting it for the first time.
Her hands cupped the back of his head as he slid lower, and teased at her nipples.
"Mmmm, so good Dave..." she whispered.
Today he didn't linger, but moved lower, trailing wet kisses down over her belly button. Her legs widened and he settled between them. Hands cupping her hips, he ran just the tip of his tongue down her slit.
She rested her heels on his shoulders, her fingers still idly playing over the back of his neck. When he closed his mouth over her more firmly, she gasped and her hands fell back on to the bed.
The stud pressed against her clit always started the fire burning low in the pit of her belly. Wordless moans, it was difficult to keep her eyes open, but she always tried. She was enthralled by the expressions crossing his features.
"N-n-need you...please..." she murmured.
He raised his head, tongue still pressed against her intimately. She gasped when he winked, and her head fell back against the pillow. As much as she loved the feel of his enormous cock filling her, the times when he pleasured her with his mouth alone brought the most earth-shattering orgasms.
Tongue pressed along her perineum, teasing against her ass. Muscles tightened in her belly, her hands clenched in the coverlet. He moved up, flicking the tight bud of her clit with his tongue.
One finger dipped inside of her, he gently nipped at her clit. She arched off the bed, the fire in her belly leaped higher. Another finger joined the first, and another. Not quite the same fullness as his shaft, but coupled with the electric sensation of his tongue she felt the release nearing, but held it back with an effort.
Without breaking the rhythm of fingers and tongue, he groped for her hand, guided it up to her breast. She moaned again, and her fingers teased at her nipple, and that just heightened the overall sensation.
Four fingers now pressed deeply inside her. He pulled back long enough to breathe over her, "Come Lise...come for me now..."
A hard pinch to her nipple, her head arched back, the cry long and keening as she came. He groaned against her, feeling the wild fluttering around his fingers, under his tongue. He slipped his fingers out, and cupped her against the palm of his hand, letting the orgasm ride out.
Slowly he slid up her body, buried his face in the fragrant mass of her hair, and held her while she came back to earth. Finally she turned toward him, bent closer and tasted herself on his lips, and whispered.
"Intense..."
"So I've been told," he said with a smile.
She rose up and straddled him, her hands playing up over his chest, down over muscled arms. His eyes narrowed as he gazed up at her, at her pert breasts peeking out between the inky blackness of her hair.
"Turnabout is fair play," she whispered mischievously.
A low groan was the response. She slid down and parted his legs.
Smooth, everything smooth and hairless. A near daily ritual that he kept up. She tongued the smooth globes of his sack while reaching up to close her hand around his erection. She stroked slowly, working the foreskin back. Her tongue trailed lower, over perineum, along the crack of his ass. His hand tightened in her hair.
While she continued to stroke along his shaft, peel the foreskin back farther, she pressed her tongue against his opening. He groaned again, his hand still tight in her hair. Her tongue dipped in a little.
"Fuck," he moaned, but made no move to stop her actions.
Fully slicking him with saliva, she raised her other hand a slipped a finger inside his ass. His hand dropped away from her hair and he gripped the coverlet tightly, muscles rippling in his abdomen.
She rose up then, took the tip of his cock in her mouth while she rocked the finger in past tight muscles. As she dipped down lower, the muscles began to relax.
Her mouth dipped halfway, then back up again, tongue teasing the ridged head. She rocked her finger, finding the bulge of his prostate. He bucked up slightly, driving a bit deeper into her mouth. She moaned against him.
She began to bob her head faster, grazing lightly with her teeth, never quite able to take him all the way down into her throat. Her thumb braced against his sack, she felt the beginning of his release before it exploded into her mouth.
His cry filled the room, warm cum filled her mouth, the muscles of his ass gripped her tightly. She managed to swallow it all. When he regained himself he gripped her arms and hauled her up. His mouth covered hers fiercely, arms gripped her tightly.
When the tremors left his body, she settled against him, her cheek pressed against his chest, hand cupping his belly. He tucked one arm around her, his hand rested against her ass.
"Dave," she whispered softly.
"Mmmm," he responded, giving her hip a light squeeze.
"Sleepy?"
"No...not yet. You?"
"No," she said, smiling against his nipple. He was the only man she knew who laid awake after, engaging in sleepy pillow talk. It made her feel warm inside. "Can I...ask you a question?"
He curled down and kissed the top of her head. "You know you can ask me anything Lise," he murmured.
"Even a personal question?"
"As long as I reserve the right to ask one in return," he chuckled.
She reached down and toyed with the ring through his belly button. "Of course, I'll tell you anything."
He raised his hand and gathered a strand of her hair, rubbing it through his fingers. "What do you want to know?"
She was silent at first, and at last she whispered, "Have you ever...been with a man?"
He squeezed the strand of hair tightly, "Had sex with you mean?"
She nodded, suddenly shy.
He dropped the strand of hair and tipped her chin up so that they were gazing into each other's eyes. "I have."
"Did you..." her voice trailed off.
"Did I like it?" he asked.
She bit her lower lip between her teeth and nodded.
He seemed to consider for a moment then said, "Yes. For different reasons, but yes."
Emboldened, she slid up so that she faced him, her face on the pillow next to his. "How is it different?"
"Hmmm," he seemed to take a moment to consider. "There's an urgency, immediacy...brutality that I like. I crave it sometimes actually. Sometimes the dance in the ring becomes foreplay, a quick fuck after seems the natural progression of things."
"And you...can't have that immediacy...brutality as you call it, with a woman?"
He smiled. "I could, but it isn't what I want all the time, not even most of the time. With you I crave the fine balance. Soft and gentle, giving way to baser instincts when the situation warrants."
"I bet," she said, blushing a little, "You could have those things with a man too."
"If I wanted," he replied.
She moved forward and kissed him softly.
"What about you?" he asked.
"Have I been with a woman?" Her brow arched. "Yes, once."
"Well, what do you think then...how was it different?" He caressed the side of her face with his thumb.
"Softer, gentler," she whispered. "I...didn't like it as much."
"Why not?" He pressed his lips against her brow.
"Because I didn't feel it the same. It was enjoyable, but not something I prefer."
They fell into silence then, legs tangled together, drifting into a doze.
"How long," she whispered at last, "Do you think this will last?"
"I think," he said softly, "For a very long time."
"Me too."
No boundaries set, no promises made, none needed.
Distribution: TwoIntoOne only.