It's not that Shawn didn't wanna fuck Stephanie.
"I don't wanna fuck your wife, bro."
It's that he couldn't let Hunter know just how badly he did.
Narrowing his eyes in that moment, Hunter fought hard to process the words his best friend had just expressed, but they just weren't computing.
"What?" he asked dumbly. "What do you mean you don't wanna fuck Stephanie? Everyone wants to fuck Stephanie!"
He was being too loud, maybe, considering they were just in a motel room, no doubt flanked by their coworkers, but he couldn't help it. Shawn's denial of his proposal was breaking his brain.
"Steph's just not my type," Shawn offered with a shrug.
"What?" Hunter grumbled. "You don't like big boobs and blue eyes? I mean, what the fuck are you even saying?"
"I like meek women," Shawn said with a shrug. "Quiet, timid-"
"That's a gross way," his friend interceded, "to describe people you wanna have sex with."
"You're the freak that wants people to fuck your wife, man," Shawn retorted. "I'd be careful what you call gross."
Hunter didn't respond that time, just turned a heavy glare onto him and Shawn laughed, uneasily, hoping to inject some glee back into the air.
"C'mon, man, I'm just messing with you," Shawn offered, taking a step closer to the man to gently shove his shoulder. "Of course I'll fuck your wife for you. I mean, if that's what you really want-"
"You're not attracted to Steph," Hunter specified. "You said that."
"I said I didn't wanna fuck her." And Shawn thought it best to end the ruse, if only to calm the man back down some. Honestly, when he'd come into the hotel room talking about the pair fucking, Shawn thought it was some kind of test. Even now he found himself running a hand up the back of his head, across the scar that lay buried under his luscious, regrown locks. "She's your woman. I thought that meant something to you, but-"
"It means everything to me." Hunter turned from him, feel weird in the hotel room, for some reason. Like there wasn't enough air in it. "Steph's my wife. This is forever."
"Then-"
"I wouldn't ask you to do something that I thought would damage that." Shrugging some, Hunter said, "I… I've actually thought about this a lot."
"This?" Shawn took a step closer. "What? Me fucking your wife?"
Not...exactly.
Initially, Hunter and Steph's marriage and relationship was meant to be purely political. It benefited them both to stab Vince in the back, at the time, and between her name recognition and his wrestling accolades, their rise to the top felt inevitable. It was only through late hours, thinking up schemes, that the pair found themselves falling in love.
And even before that portion, there came a lot of fucking.
Late hours and all.
The wrestling world in general was filled with a typical tension that either led to bitter hatred, tight kinship, or a lot of the time, just primal rage fucks.
Hunter had his fair share.
He knew Shawn did too.
And he liked to not think about any that Steph may or may not have been a part of.
But still, it had been the basis for their initial relationship jump. Somewhere between hate fucking after a bad match and exchanging oral after a successful, he found that Steph checked nearly all of his sexual boxes.
He wasn't a deviant, by any means. If anything, she felt more inclined to the lifestyle than him. Still, he did like to venture into a sex shop or two for a new thrilling toy to introduce into the bedroom. Steph was the first woman he'd been with that not only openly enjoyed a toy or two, but had no problem with stating she did much the same whether he was around or not.
"Women like to get off just as much as men, Hunter," she'd chided him at his surprise, when she pulled a slim vibrator from her suitcase after an evening of fulling around led to them discussing such things. At his disbelief, she didn't hesitate to withdraw her pocket rocket from where she kept it buried and zipped away, in her travel bag. Flicking a little switch on the side, she held out the tiny vibrating cylindrical toy to the man, remarking, "Some of us even more."
And they didn't use it that night, had already fucked, but when he pulled it from her hand to take a long, exaggerated whiff of it, the glee Steph had at his openness meant it would definitely be making a reappearance.
It felt like a lid had been taken off their sex life, honestly.
Fucking Steph was great.
Getting Steph all curled up on her back, suckling at his dick as he drove a grooved, gloved fingers into her hole…
One of the hardest parts for Hunter about being in committed relationships was sealing that portion of himself off. The part of him that knew he had all the money in the world to blow on the kinkiest of sex, but couldn't, because he was supposed to be in a committed relationship.
He wanted what he saw on the porn tapes he and Shawn jerked it to, in all those hotel rooms in the mid 90s. He wanted to ram his dick between two big tits by the pool on a sunny day. He wanted to take a blindfolded woman from behind, twisting her arm behind her back as she begged for more. He wanted to wrap both hands forcefully around a woman's neck as he drove into her on the bed.
But every woman he dated, their limits never satiated his own.
And Hunter would never force someone into something. Cajole. That was no fun.
Then he met Stephanie, who was actually the first one to broach the topic of deepthroating, griping the first time he didn't hold her face down on his cock when he came. She wanted facials, loved it when he pulled from her, just to shoot a stream across her belly and up to her full breasts. When he'd asked if she'd ever titty fucked before and gotten a confused stare, it only took showing her one clip before Steph was absolutely down to try.
She was like his third sexual awakening.
If Shawn was his second.
And now, together, they were bringing him into his final.
Because all those times he had her like that, sucking his cock as they lay in bed, each with their fingers probing down below, his driving toys into her puss and hers around her clit, all he could think about was what it would be like, if there was a second dick there, a real person, to actually ram into her.
It was the one thing Stephanie wouldn't do, that she'd been rather up front about with him, when they were hammering out a full relationship with one another.
"I could never," she said one day over shared take out in their hotel room, "watch you have sex with another woman. I don't… It's something about it. You know? Like… You're mine. I want to be the only woman you touch."
And he agreed, echoing the same, because he thought that he did feel that way.
And he kinda did.
He didn't wanna watch Steph rub another man's back when he was sick or smile so brightly when he held the title belt over his head. He'd hate to see caress another's cheek in the way she did his, when she wanted his eyes. To think about her lazing away an afternoon in bed with another man.
But that's not what he wanted from Shawn.
When he asked him to fuck Steph.
He wanted just as he said.
He really, really wanted to watch his best friend and wife fuck.
Same as Steph could accept Shawn now, fucking around with her husband again, because he wasn't another woman and wouldn't bring what she did to the table, Hunter knew that Shawn could never really steal Stephanie away from him. No way. The man didn't have the same heart for the business as she did, an openness to course correction and a desire to wallow in failure, if only because you knew it would bring you back to the top.
Steph didn't want Hunter to ever find another woman who would bend over backwards for him, knowing that's what drew him truly in the first place. Shawn didn't stand to displace her; only return Hunter to a secondary avenue, for release.
But Hunter knew it wasn't sex that had led Stephanie to picking him. Her connection ran much deeper than that. She saw everything when she looked at him, championships and accolades, fine, but also someone brilliant and business savvy enough to one day truly help oust her father. Maybe.
Shawn wouldn't give her that.
So it was okay to let them fuck.
Right?
It was all he'd thought about, since he and Shawn first started hooking up again, that day in the locker room, as Steph sat by and watched. He imagined if he were Stephanie, instead, sitting there, gripping the edge of his seat, as some other man kissed his wife.
No.
Not some other man.
Shawn.
Fuck.
If Steph ran her hand along his jaw, across his stubble, the same way she did for Hunter, then what?
And if she told him, same as she always had her husband, "Let me," when he tried to unzip his jeans and fell to both knees, no hesitation, then what?
And would Shawn have tangled his fingers in her hair and done it right, the first time, holding her head down on his cock as he spilled down the back of her throat?
Would she have liked that?
Would she have felt like a useless slut, still in her clothes, as he was finished and snickering at her, and that was okay, but he was there, Hunter reminded himself, same as he'd fucked Steph before, when his ass was on fire from not too prepped anal sex, but it'd be different then. Because she would be the one who got used, not his ass, and he wouldn't use her like that, but he would taste Shawn's cum on the back of her throat, and would she appreciate his gentle touch and the way he swiped a finger across her slit, to insure she was wet? Or did she want it like Shawn gave it; with no remorse or forethought?
Just ramming his dick right in there?
Would he do that to her?
When they fucked?
If they fucked.
"Look," he told Shawn finally, in the hotel room that day, "I'm just saying, Steph and I are open to...you fucking her. So-"
"You and your wife," Shawn retorted with a bit of a disbelieving laugh, "have to be the horniest mother fuckers on the planet. You know that?"
"I was just floating it out there." Turning to leave, Hunter added over his shoulder, "And you were offered this with the strictest of confidence-"
"What?" Shawn retorted. "You mean you're not going from room to room, hoping one of the locker room guys takes the bait? If I'm the hold out on your threesome, Hunter, ask around; you'll find another pretty quickly."
But he didn't want another person.
He wanted Shawn.
It was as his hand was on the doorknob, but about to turn it, that Shawn seemed to fear his own words. So far, he'd assumed Steph and Hunter to at least having made some sort of a dent in the locker room. Considering he'd only been back a short while and they'd already roped him into two sexual encounters, he struggled to fathom all they had Pac and Dogg doing for them.
But it didn't seem to be the case.
They kept to themselves, mainly, falling out even with the other current iteration of DX and turning more into one another. They were their own entity now, almost. Or at least seemed to be working towards it one day being so.
He'd been given a pass back into Hunter's personal life that others who'd been by his side for years by then still weren't privy too.
Shawn struggled at times to reconcile what it all meant.
But when he thought about it, all those days he'd spent cursing Hunter's name, fuck if he hadn't wanted to absolutely destroy the man's wife.
It didn't feel fair, catching glimpses of shows on televisions while he was rehabbing, sulking, finding himself again.
For Hunter to just move on from his betrayal, to skyrocket to the top like that, with the boss's daughter on his arm…
Oh, Shawn had imagined stealing Steph from Hunter many times.
Maybe, even then, he thought, as he mulled over the offer alone in his hotel room that night. Hunter seemed convinced that he wanted to watch the pair fuck, but Shawn couldn't think of a bigger fuck over than someone watching their wife get railed.
And absolutely love it.
The next morning, when he went down to the lobby to grab some breakfast, he wasn't surprised to see Stephanie around, but was kinda curious as to where Hunter had gotten off to. The pair usually could be found together in the morning, dining together and going over those damn notebooks of plots and schemes Hunter accumulated, but she was alone that day, going over papers, yes, but they looked far more official and had no doubt come from her father.
Snagging a single orange from the lack luster offerings of the free hotel breakfast, Shawn slid easily into the seat across from Stephanie, smiling even as the woman very pointedly refused to glance up at him.
"Morning," he greeted as he took to peeling the fruit. "Your husband around?"
Shaking her head, she didn't raise it, but her eyes did lift a bit from the papers before her. They didn't meet his, but were in his direction as she questioned, "Did you need something?"
"Ah, you know," he said with a shrug and easy grin, "if we're gonna start fuckin', I just thought we should get to know one another a bit more, eh?"
That finally got her attention.
The woman dropped the paper in her hand to first glance around, as to make sure his words hadn't hit the ears of anyone unintended, before her angry glare was fixed on his toothy smile.
"You're the one," she whispered tightly, "that told my husband no. So-"
"Awh, Steph, did he make you think that had somethin' to do with you?" Shawn brought the hand not clutching his half peeled orange to his chest, slamming an open palm over his heart as he insisted, "I'd fuck you raw, right here on this table, right now, if I didn't think it'd get my skull basked again."
Her blue eyes narrowed and her pursed lips parted a bit as she questioned, "Then why did you tell Hunter-"
"I'm playing with him," Shawn told her plainly because he didn't think he could pull it off, really. Tricking them both. While Hunter spent a lot of time toiling on actions, he imagined Steph could read intentions much easier. "Is it not obvious? He fucking tried to kill me; I can at least make him sweat it out about whether I really wanna bone his wife or not. Perceptions everything with him."
Steph frowned, but her eyes dropped back down to her papers, not truly grasping any of the words from them now as she asked, "Then…what? You do wanna-"
"Do you?"
"It was Hunter's idea."
"That's not what I asked." Leaning closer, he kept his eyes on hers, even if she wouldn't give them to him. "I'm a lot of things, fine, but my momma raised me right, huh? You gotta schmooze a woman at least a bit before you fuck her. A nice dinner, maybe even just cover her tab at the bar."
"Oh, you charmer, you," she retorted plainly, but he only laughed, bringing a slice of orange up to his lips.
Slipping the slice of orange into his cheek, he asked around it, "So tell me, Stephanie, do you like me at all? Even a the tiniest bit? Or is this all just you trying to, what? Keep Hunter? I don't know if you know this, but that loser is struggle to even win a tag match."
"It's not his fault," she retorted and her tone was cold, rather than jovial, like Shawn had hoped to draw out. Of course. Silly him. The business, her husband's placement in it, was no joke. "I think I partnered him poorly."
"Oh?"
"Mmmhmm." Shaking her head, Steph said, "Hunter is a natural born leader. In and out of the ring. If you can't fall in line with his techniques-"
"Oh, a leader?" Shawn didn't know why her words mattered so much to him. Stephanie didn't shit about shit. And yet… "You think he's over me now?"
"No," she replied, but before he could further question that, she leaned across the table as well, their foreheads nearly brushing as she insisted, "I think he always was."
Shawn bit back his words, searching her eyes, as Stephanie only continued.
"I think," she kept up, "that it's a good thing he bashed your stupid skull in. You were leading him down. Hunter needed to break free of whatever stupid hold you had on him. Hunter doesn't need someone over him; he needs someone beside him. Below him. To help prop him up. Not steal his thunder."
Shawn fell back in his seat, considering her words as well as he did all the techniques he'd learned over the past few years, for channeling his sudden spikes of anger. Nothing would have felt better in that moment that turning his back on Stephanie- Just long enough to raise a foot to her chin.
But it would have only further complicated the situation.
Plus, as he reworked what she said, removed the obvious leading, intentionally hurtful phrases, he found that she'd actually put into words all he'd been wondering.
"And what?" he asked. "You're that person, huh? At his side?"
"Outside? Of course. But in it?" Stephanie shrugged. "That's what you were supposed to be."
Snorting, he retorted, "I'm not a fucking follower, Stephanie. If this was some sort of long ruse to get me to be your husband's bitch boy-"
"I just wanted to watch Hunter have sex with another man." She said it coolly, softly, only to him, but with a slight red blush creeping up her cheeks. "I didn't know he was willing to do that. And it had to be you. Don't delude yourself, Shawn; you weren't part of some long, master plan. We're reworking to include you, if anything. I got what I wanted out of this, seeing Hunter… If you're done with us, fine. You think these past few years wouldda made it clear; you're not hard to replace."
That one was enough then, too much to compartmentalize, no matter how many calming techniques he'd learned.
"Let's get one thing fucking straight, Stephanie," he retorted, tone more serious then as he sat up straight, squeezing the orange in his palm, sticky juice flowing and covering both his hand and the table below. "I don't give a shit how much control he makes you think you have, how many of those little journals he lets you read. I taught him everything. Me. Hunter's nothing without me. You're not gonna just slot another guy in there. Think about it, huh? How many other women would he fuck? I'm the only cock he'll ever suck. We're connected in a way you'll never be with him. And you know that. You're not gonna bluff me into doing whatever you want; I know my value and when to walk. As your father."
She kept his gaze, no matter how much Shawn had tried to shake it the entire conversation, and as their breathing felt in time, fuck he hadn't lied; he wanted her then, on the table, back in a room, it didn't matter.
Stephanie wouldn't back down to him.
Even when she knew she'd lost.
Just like her stupid husband.
It was scary to know that neither of them knew when to accept defeat.
Maybe need him…
Even then, Stephanie swallowed his words before replying, "Then walk."
And Shawn could only laugh, the tension broken, as he shook his head and replied, "You two made for each other, aren't you?"
"What are you-"
"You got a lot to learn, Steph." Bringing his dripping hand up to his face, he had now broken shove the mashed orange slices into his mouth, gulping them down with hardly any chewing and no fear of choking. "Still."
But she only glared, gathering up her papers before standing and retorting, "You made a mess, idiot."
"Maybe I wanna see you tonight," he said quickly as it seemed like he'd finally pushed the woman truly away. "Stephanie. For dinner."
"I'm sure a lot of people do."
"Steph-"
"You know where I'll be," was her simply reply and, as he stared down at the mess he had very much so made, he struggled at first to figure out what that meant.
But it wasn't a hard riddle to crack.
Steph ate where she always did when on the road; at her husband's side.
When he saw Hunter in passing that afternoon, the other guy didn't seem to be peeved at him, so Shawn imagined Steph had kept their contentious conversation to herself. Hunter mentioned in passing wanting to hit up a steak house that night that he frequented every time he was in town and, well, maybe Shawn decided the same, later that evening, playing up his surprise when he spotted the husband and wife alone, sharing a meal.
"What are you doing here?" Hunter asked with a frown as when he named dropped the place, it had absolutely not been with the intention of his best friend crashing his date. But as the hostess led Shawn over to his table, he feigned surprise at spotting Steph and Hunter before waving the woman off and making his way over to sit with them instead.
Snagging a chair from a nearby table, he took a seat between the husband and wife, snickering, "You mentioned steak and, well, you know me."
"No," Hunter grumbled, "I don't. Why are you-"
"He's already here," Stephanie sighed as she reached for her glass of wine, twirling it before taking a swig. As the alcohol rose to her head, she fought a grin and insisted, "We might as well let him stay."
Hunter hadn't want the night to be about….Shawn. Or their...threesomes. He and Stephanie had been talking about real life, off the show stuff, like their upcoming vacation, when they both had a few free days. He was very busy laying on thick the implications of wanting to go somewhere tropical, with a string bikini or two packed away for when they were just obnoxiously, loudly breaking a villa's bed.
Shawn put a damper on his mood immediately.
Not Stephanie's though.
She'd been listening as Hunter went on and on about their proposed vacation (she'd yet to break it to him that if she didn't see a pretty little title belt wrapped around his waist soon, she didn't see how they would even be deserving of such), but was far more intrigued with what the night now could offer them.
"Yeah, buddy," Shawn insisted with a grin. "Let me stay."
"We just ordered," Hunter grumbled, "so-"
"So, if he flags a waiter down and puts his in, it'll come out around the same time," Steph reasoned. At her husband's glare, she retorted, "I wanted to talk about the tag titles, anyways. With the both of you here."
"I, actually, would not like to do that, so," Shawn began as he feigned standing, but Stephanie reached over to place a hand on his shoulder.
Eyes meeting now, each could still feel that same tension that had bubbled to the surface and broke before, that morning. As he slipped back into his chair, Stephanie insisted, "This is important. You'll both wanna hear this."
"Will we?" Hunter grumbled, reaching out for one of the complimentary rolls sitting in the center of the table. "'Cause-"
"Baby, do you really wanna eat that?" Stephanie asked with a frown. "I thought you were still doing your-"
"I," Hunter grumbled as he ripped the bread in half and shoved some into his open maul, still speaking around the intrusion, "don't wanna talk wrestling tonight. I told you that."
"I know, but that before Shawn-"
"Hey, if it makes you feel better, buddy," Shawn spoke up as Steph's hand fell from his shoulder and he raised his own to pat at Hunter's, "I don't wanna fucking talk about it either. In fact, I think the two of you talk about it too much."
"That's impossible." Stephanie rolled her eyes and reached once more for her glass of wine. Before taking a sip, she said, "It's good to be focused and prepared."
"Sure," Shawn agreed, "but I promise you, you and Hunter and already that. Stressing things isn't going to help anything. When has it? We know what we're doing out in the ring, Stephanie; so why don't you butt out a bit, huh? And let us figure it out in our own time."
"Shawn," Hunter started, but Steph cut him off as, after another sip from her glass, she found words of her own.
"No, maybe he's right," she conceded and Hunter thought to check the evening sky for that blue moon. "I've always thought that the two of you guy's...connection could lead to tag team success. But all I've done is get in the way of it."
"That's not true, Steph," Hunter kept up, but still, she shrugged.
"I've actually been talking to Daddy some too, recently," she went on. "About all the work I've been doing behind the scenes. He really thinks I have an eye for talent. You two are already spotted; maybe I should start looking elsewhere. Where I'm more needed."
"I didn't say not needed, woman," Shawn retorted, but even as this got the glare of both the husband and wife, he merely raised his hand, to flag down a nearby waitress. Still, his words were for the pair as he insisted, "There's always a spot for a third. Especially in the ring. But you have to come back out with us. Like you used to, for Hunter."
They exchanged glances of their own, Hunter and Steph did, before the woman said, "I stopped for a reason. I only get in the way-"
"People target her," Hunter took over, not liking her assessment. "To get to me. It's just better-"
"Yeah?" Lowering his hand as he finally got the nod of the waitress, Shawn replied, "Who the fuck's gonna get her, huh? With me on the apron? Or you? Between the three of us, I think we can watch each other's backs just fine. And then some."
So Stephanie accompanied the men out on their next match.
She'd be lying to say she'd missed having Hunter's arm wrapped around her as all the losers that paid to sit around and gawk at them smoldered in jealousy. It felt good too, when Shawn held the ropes open for her to slip inside, just so she could gloat with them, for a few more seconds, as their music blasted over the PA system.
Kissing Hunter good luck in the ring felt so much better than backstage.
"Win," she insisted and he nodded, but he was nervous, she could tell, because last time she'd been out there, it had ended in not only a loss on his end, but a concussion on her own.
After an altercation and misunderstanding backstage earlier in the week, honestly, Hunter and Shawn really did want to tear into the stupid fucking Hardy Boyz. They were some of the most obnoxious fucking assholes around. Flipping and flopping all over the goddamn place.
Tensions were high in the tag team division and no one wanted Hunter and Shawn's old asses mucking things up. Their opportunities so far had felt unfair and it was only natural that, when the beating by Edge and Christian just wasn't enough to get them out of the division, that Matt and Jeff finally force them out.
Ridding the tag division of DX was main event worthy.
But no one could account for Stephanie there, innocently cheering her husband on, of course, but as Jeff's Whisper in the Wind off the top rope landed the dazed Hunter into the perfect position for the legal Matt's Twist of Fate, all hope seemed lost. Shawn was still out of it from eating a spear earlier and wouldn't make it in time to break up the pin.
As the ref fell for the count though, hands were suddenly wrapped around one of his ankles. It was Stephanie, tugging the confused ref backwards before he'd gotten to three, the man trying to kick her, threatening to DQ the match, but as Steph slipped back out of the ring, tossing her hands up to insist she would be good, no more interfering, Shawn was finally able to get in there.
Matt had jumped up, to gripe about Stephanie's interference, but with the ref still focused in on the woman, it was easy enough for Michael's to catch him in a Sweet Chin music. As the crowd roared with jeer and boos, Hunter came to, just into time to fall over the now downed Matt's chest. And the ref, not to be out done again, fell right back into position to hit the three count before Jeff could even properly understand what was taking place.
They made out like bandits in the night, Hunter rolling quickly out of the ring to the side Steph was, falling into the woman as she helped him, still slightly dazed, back up the ramp, as winded Shawn quick to follow. As the Hardy's griped to the referee, they celebrated, the three of them, at the top the ramp, Hunter's arms falling over Steph's shoulders as she nuzzled into him as Shawn stood at his side, sweaty, fuzzy chest pressed into the side of his arm.
As the show faded out and Shawn hid out from the Hardy's with the husband and wife, in their private dressing room, the bubble of victory popped. Steph was tending to Hunter's wounds and the man was grumbling something about the Hardy's, but looking them over, Shawn knew they could feel it too.
"We won," Shawn ended Hunter's rants for him, finally getting an even nod out of the other two as, yes, they had done that. "It's all that matters."
"They'll want revenge," Steph mused from where she sat on her knees, before Hunter on a chair, holding an ice pack to a contusion on his thigh. "Next week-"
"Next week," Shawn cut her off, "is next week. Tonight is tonight. And we should celebrate."
"Celebrate," Hunter repeated, eyes raising from where he'd been watching his wife before, dutifully caring for him, and onto the Cheshire grin of his devious friend, who could think of far more the woman could be doing, down there on her knees, to ring in their victory. "How?"
Shawn licked his lips, making effort to share a gaze with Stephanie as well when he insisted, "You won the match, buddy. I guess we should celebrate however you want."
