Wrestlemania 18

"Realization"

The crowd was thunderous. The cheers and screams echoed off of the ring and up into the night sky. The roofless arena was alive. The fans' electrified the air as every bone and muscle in his body shook with elation. The weight of both belts rested victoriously on each of his shoulders. He kissed them both with tears in his eyes. Triple H was champion once again. This time, it was after a near career-ending injury. This time, it was after the hardest nine months of his life. This time, it was undisputed. This time, it was earned alone, without aid or interference.

He looked to the ramp. From his position in the center of the ring, belts held high in triumph, he could just make out her and Jericho. They stumbled and staggered, arm in arm as they made their exit. It brought a viscous smile to his face. His success became all the sweeter at the sight. He was free. Alone, at last, without distraction. That's all she'd been for months. A distraction. An annoying, dramatic, nagging distraction.

And now she was gone and he couldn't be happier. His heart pounded inside his chest at the thought. Yes, this was ecstasy, the ultimate satisfaction. To be at the top without her was his hard work's reward. His heart pounded louder in protest, but he took it to mean happiness. He soaked up the moment. Taking his time to walk up the ramp, he high-flved fans as he went, ready to celebrate all night long.

He hadn't partied much since his DX days. Celebrating a win in the ring consisted primarily of fucking his wife senseless for the better part of two years. But that was no matter. There were plenty of beautiful woman to screw senseless after WrestleMania. And he knew the right crowd. So once he'd showered and changed, and after he admired how the gold complimented his all black suit, he went out on the town. Toronto was more than happy to host the new Undisputed Champion.

Hunter joined some old and new friends in hopping from bar to club to strip club. He drank more than usual, but passed on any offered drugs. He tossed hundreds of dollars at the dancing strippers' feet. He spent well over a thousand dollars to secure a private VIP table. He whispered into a particularly beautiful dancer's ear that she was welcome to accompany him back to his hotel room. She bit her lip and nodded without ever stopping her gyrations against his crotch.

His evening concluded with the blonde woman's head buried in the pillows of his hotel bed and her ass high in the air for him to grope while he pounded into her from behind. It was a perfect way to end an already exhilarating evening. It was well past four in the morning when he finally collapsed beside the stranger.

The pair lay on their backs, side by side, panting.

"So I'm supposed to believe you got the nickname "The Game" from the ring, huh?"

Hunter laughed joyfully before offering her a smug smile, "Yeah."

Smacking her lips together, the exotic dancer sing-songed the word okay before turning a bit more serious. "I'll get out of here in just a minute. Lemme get my bearings first."

"You don't have to leave," he said with a frown.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

The woman smiled brightly, "That's not usually the deal with you guys."

"I'm not –"

Her laughter interrupted him.

"Don't worry," she added. "I didn't take it as a proposal. It's just nice that you're letting me stay."

Hunter promptly pulled her to him with a low growl.

"I'm quite the gentleman," he said while nipping at the side of her neck.

She giggled and stroked his bare hip. Both of them knowing the reason he wasn't insisting on her departure was so they could again celebrate his new reign as champion.

He hummed his approval of her ministrations and flexed his fingers before entwining them behind his head. He lay a bit propped up on the pillows so he could watch her hand creep up from his waist to his abs and trace the lines of his muscles with her index finger. Her brown eyes stared absently across the room until her hand rested firmly against his chest and she felt his body abruptly still. His heart sped its beats beneath her hand.

She looked up to him, "Are you okay?"

Hunter didn't answer. His eyes stared intensely at her hand on the center of his chest. He'd been on a high for months. Love and hate and determination all rolled into one. He'd had tunnel vision. All he could see was his return and then the championship. And then revenge. But now, all he could feel was another woman's hand on his chest. He was suddenly a married man in bed with a stranger. And her hand was positioned exactly where his wife's usually was.

Gently, he removed her hand from his chest and got off the bed. He couldn't look at her. He was uncomfortable and guilt-ridden all of a sudden. The stranger's hand had felt foreign and intrusive. He was disturbed by how his body reacted.

Mind and heart racing, he mumbled to the floor, "I'm going to take a shower."

She said nothing as he disappeared into the suite's gleaming bathroom. With the door shut behind him, he was free to sigh and shake his head in annoyance. He pushed his palms against his eyes to try and clear his head. But his mind refused to yield. It was entirely focused on diagnosing his heart's pounding rhythm.

He'd been angry for months. And so happy throughout the night. Why now? Because of a stupid hand? He sighed again. He couldn't believe it. After all she'd done. He was actually feeling guilty for cheating.

But he wasn't really cheating. They were separated. She'd probably cheated plenty of times. Maybe even before they'd separated. He growled at the thought, dropping his hands and tossing aside the shower curtain with a force. He yanked the shower knob to the left and waited just three seconds before stepping in.

The spray soothed his sore muscles. He hadn't felt their tension yet. The high of victory had masked his physical aches and pains. He stepped directly under the showerhead and didn't flinch at the heat of the water. The burn was a sensation he loved. He hadn't always.

She liked the water extremely hot. He'd teased her and called her crazy the first time he ever jumped into the shower behind her. She hadn't let him turn down the temperature, claiming she'd freeze if it were just one degree colder. So he chose burning over losing the opportunity to see and feel her body wet with soapsuds complimenting every curve. Before long, he found himself bathing in comparable water; steaming hot.

Whenever they showered together, the steam and their inevitable, erotic touches made it difficult to breath. Sometimes he wondered if the lack of oxygen added to the pleasure. Every mirror and window in their grand master bathroom would be clouded. Their bodies and cheeks bright red by the time they cried out and their releases echoed throughout the foggy room.

The champion shook his head trying to ignore the memories flooding the back of his mind. But the last time he'd joined her raced to the front of his consciousness.

They'd argued that morning. They did that most mornings since his injury. He was exceptionally irritable that day. He was scheduled to return to Raw the following night. There wasn't much he could do to ease his nerves. But sex would calm him so he crept into the shower behind her when she was beneath the spray with her eyes closed. His hands firmly gripped her hips, anticipating her jump of freight.

"It's just me," he chuckled.

"Sorry."

He shook off her unneeded apology and smiled softly at her big blue eyes looking up at him. She'd been a bitch earlier, more so than usual. He had loved her attitude once upon a time. He'd coaxed her wicked side out of her when they got married, hell bent on ruling the WWE as a pair of monarchs. But the fear and pain of a near career ending injury had changed him. He no longer felt like ravishing her whenever her ego ran wild. Her shrill and high-pitched voice no longer excited his nether regions like before. Her plans and schemes for power did not inspire him anymore. He just wanted to wrestle. And be champion again. Simplicity was what he craved after almost losing everything.

"What?" She whispered, because he hadn't stopped staring at her.

"Nothing."

He said it softly looking into her eyes and he laughed again at the shy smile his stare evoked. Sometimes he forgot, that deep down, she still had that self-conscious, intimidated side as well.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For earlier."

"Me too."

"You're gonna be great tomorrow."

But he didn't want to talk about that. So he kissed her instead. She immediately melted into his embrace like she always did. Soon her back was against the tiled wall and he was lifting her leg to hook it over his hips. They panted in union and helped steam the room over the next several minutes. Despite however much they fought, their bodies never ceased to join in perfect harmony. Their hips moved together effortlessly and their lips twisted and pulled with passion. He felt an extra touch of tenderness from her, however. And when she reached her peak, he saw love and a bit of madness in her eyes. He finished with a groan against her shoulder.

Afterwards, he gently lowered her leg to the ground and massaged the mark his tight grip had created. She placed soft kisses to his neck when he brought his hands up to her hair to wash out the conditioner she'd lathered in before he had joined her. Absently, he worked the substance out of her hair while thinking once again of the following night. Would the fans care? Would he be walking into to a dead arena, people indifferent to one of the company's most hated talents?

"Hey," she whispered, hand cupping his cheek and aligning their eyes. Though her stare was still glazed with satisfaction, she looked a bit sad. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah," he lied. And guilt filled him when she smiled.

"Okay. I'm sor -"

"Things will be better. After tomorrow, things will be better." He watched her scared expression turn hopeful. "I promise."

Hunter took a deep breath and shuddered. He was barely able to inhale with how thick the air around him was with steam. His marriage had seemed like a lifetime ago just hours before. Now he roughly lathered himself with soap, determined to get the smell of the strip club, and the stripper, off of him. The perfect weight of his wife's hand still rested like a ghost on his chest. He scrubbed there with vigor, his imagination refusing to stop projecting countless images of his wife lying beside him, her fingers stroking his sternum.

He rinsed and shut off the water, internal fortitude weakening as he stepped out of the shower to see his reflection staring back at him. He had bathed too quickly. The large bathroom's mirror had not yet fogged. His reflection erased his mind's conflict. He was startled to see the mournful look on his face. He hated his expression. He viewed emotion as weakness, and his lifeless eyes and deep frown projected noting but defeat. It completely betrayed how he felt inside. The anger that boiled his blood since her lie simmered at last. It hurt.

He looked away.

He was heartbroken.

The realization choked him. He ran a large white towel over himself, drying off while trying not to cry. She wasn't ever going to touch him like that again. He'd been so happy to leave her, to have her out of his life. But now that he understood she was really, truly gone forever… he sat on the closed lid of the toilet. They were over.

Her hand wouldn't touch his chest like that again. She wouldn't kiss him. She wouldn't hug him. She wouldn't ever test his patience. She wouldn't yell and whine and complain that he wasn't giving her enough attention, affection ever again. He'd never hold her. He wouldn't pull her by the hips into his lap.

Hunter hung his head and covered his face with his hands. He'd have to marry someone else, have kids with someone else. It wasn't her anymore. She'd done the unthinkable.

He shook his head in rebellion. Standing and wrapping the towel around his waist, he stomped out of the room to bury his thoughts. He stopped abruptly at the sight of the dancer fully clothed.

Sheepishly, she said, "I'm gonna go."

He sighed. "I'm sorry – "

"It's okay. I'm a fan. I know you got a lot going on."

He looked to her seriously. Upset by how everything had come full circle.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I understand."

He watched her walk to the door and remembered that he was now single.

"When I'm in Toronto again…"

She turned her head with a hand on the door, "You'll come visit?"

"Yeah, uh…" He squinted at her face, desperately trying to recall her name.

"Summer."

He rolled his eyes as she laughed. "What's your real name?"

She looked to the floor a bit embarrassed.

"It's Stephanie actually. Believe it or not."

His sense of humor sobered and he looked astonished, but he offered her a small, forgiving smile anyways.

"Good luck with the titles, champ." She waved an additional goodbye before walking out the door.

He stared out of the floor to ceiling window at the Toronto skyline, sparkling and beautiful as the sun began to rise. He walked right up to the glass. The undone bed behind him was an idiom equivalent to an elephant. He was finally beginning to feel tired and his shoulders dropped for what felt like the first time in a year.

He looked down to where his hands had folded against his stomach. He was absent-mindedly rubbing his bare ring finger. He wondered where his wedding band was. He hadn't seen it since he threw it onto the mat the night of their vow renewal. Maybe one of the ring techs had salvaged it. It was probably at a pawnshop, sold for whatever it was worth. Because it meant nothing more than the current price of gold now.

Hunter allowed himself just one more moment of homesickness. Then he steeled his jaw and dropped his naked hand to his side. He pulled up the sheets and comforter of his bed without really looking at it and plopped down onto his back with just a slight twinge of pain. The Walls of Jericho was a hell of a finisher. Restlessly, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to think of anything other than Stephanie. He couldn't help but wonder if she was in pain. And if she was alone.

Across the city, in a hotel room just as luxurious as his, Stephanie McMahon lay above the covers as well. She'd fallen asleep nursing her sore body with several cold and heat packs sporadically placed all over her. There was a deep frown etched onto her features even in sleep. She'd been angry and annoyed, frantically analyzing all of her recent mistakes and how she couldn't seem to get anything right as of late.

Her left hand rested against her neck. She'd been massaging a particularly tight knot created by the Pedigree just before she succumbed to tiredness. Her right hand was balled up on top of her stomach.

Hunter's wedding band rested heavily within her closed fist.