Chapter 18
"Get naked."
Macaria laughed softly, setting her purse down on the dresser and felt Dean come up behind her, his strong hands on her hips. They were warm to the touch, searing through the t-shirt she had on. She'd worn a Dean Ambrose hooded sweatshirt and took it off on their way up to the room. It was a standard room with two beds to give the illusion they weren't having sex, only rooming together. Dean brushed her thick braided hair over her shoulder, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the side of it.
"Mmm, don't you want to eat first?"
Dean smirked at that loaded question, squeezing her jean covered backside and massaged her sides, nuzzling her soft skin. "Do you really want me to answer that, babe?"
"I didn't mean ME…" Macaria's face flamed red, knowing exactly what he meant and bumped her hip against him. "I mean, I wouldn't mind if you eat me first, but…"
Chuckling, Dean turned her around and lifted her to plant her on the dresser, standing between her thighs. "I'll eat you all night long, Maca." His voice had dropped to a raspy, gritty tone, his hands caressing her jean covered thighs. "I think I need a picture of me eating you out, actually…"
"Wait, you want me to take a picture of you eating my pussy?" Macaria blinked, wondering if he was serious and felt her cheeks burn all over again, not sure she could pull it off. "You're serious…"
"Damn right I am. Why wouldn't I want a picture of me eating my woman out and making her scream my name?" Dean captured her open mouth and kissed her hungrily, pulling her to press her chest against his. "It's time to get naked, Maca…"
With swollen lips, Macaria reached between them to unsnap his jeans and slid the zipper down, slipping past his boxer/briefs to stroke his hardening cock. "Mmm, is this all for me, Deano?" She smirked at his groan, not stopping the stroking and his mouth met hers again, this time hotter and more passionate, harder. "Fuck first, food later."
"My sentiments exactly." Dean rasped out, removing her jeans and panties to get them out of the way and lifted her from the dresser, her legs encircling his waist with her hand still stroking him. "Goddamn, your hand feels fucking good on my dick, darlin'…"
"I bet my pussy feels even better." Macaria murmured, her own tone low and seductive and closed her eyes as his mouth teased her neck again.
"I plead the fifth on that one." Dean set her on the bed, removing her hand from his pants and quickly shed them, after kicking his boots off. "Remove your shirt and bra."
Macaria obeyed, tossing her clothes on the floor along with the others and devoured Dean visually as he undressed the rest of the way. There was something about the way he pulled his beater over his head that was incredibly sexy and alluring to her. He guided her down on the bed, hovering over her and pulled the tie out of her hair, needing to see her beautiful honey blonde waterfall of hair. She smiled, letting him unravel it with his nimble, long fingers and kissed her again, taking her breath away.
"Get that camera out. You're gonna snap some of me tongue fucking your pussy." Dean followed her hand pointing at the dresser and pulled away long enough to grab it, handing it to her. Screwing a photographer was the best decision Dean ever made in his life. "I better start hearing that camera, darlin'…"
Her eyes nearly rolled in the back of her head as soon as Dean's mouth began teasing her nethers, the camera snapping pictures repeatedly.
A few hours later, they lay in bed with a box of pizza and some sodas, both naked and enjoying the afterglow of their sex. Dean was busy going through the photos while eating a slice of pizza, their favorite kind of food. It seemed he enjoyed the photos she'd taken, even though she would only develop them in the privacy of her apartment building. Aya wouldn't want them anyway since Dean wasn't the one pleasuring her orally.
"You know, I never did ask you, but what made you decide to get into photography?" Dean's curiosity had finally gotten the better of him and he couldn't hold back the question any longer.
Now her jade eyes glittered, the biggest smile crossing her face as she recalled the first time she ever held a camera. "My grandma is responsible for my passion. She gave me a camera, one of those disposable ones, when I was 5 and…I fell in love with it. Every opportunity I could get, I would grab a camera on family vacations and whatnot and snap photos all over. We went to Disney World one time, and I swear to you, I'm not kidding, my Mom literally had 50 rolls of film she had to develop. That is expensive as hell to do when it's $20 a pop." Macaria giggled, remembering how her mother had a box full of the black rolls that held pictures she'd taken over the years. That was before they had their falling out. "I don't know why I love it, I just do. I love capturing a moment…that one perfect moment when nobody is around or the person doesn't even realize it's happening. The sun rising over the horizon and when it JUST reaches that peak, that momentary grace, and you snap that photo and then develop it, you've created something." While she spoke, she moved her hands to illustrate her point. "Sunsets are even more breathtaking because of all the different colors the clouds become. Here, let me show you something, Dean."
Gently, she took her camera from him, flipping through the photos, which were sorted by day, and found what she was looking for. She had to show him a specific picture she'd snapped a few weeks ago at one of the house shows. It was him, in the ring, smiling at the crowd and clasping his hands together, going in for a bow like he normally did after a match.
"Do you know what I see when I look at this photo?" Macaria asked, gauging his reaction to the photograph and brushed some hair away from his eyes with the back of her hand. "I see a man who is in love with what he does for a living, who is so engrossed with his fans and you can see and FEEL the passion oozing out of his pores. Just from this one picture, and it doesn't matter that he's sweating bullets or his hair is all messy…what matters is the love and admiration in his eyes while he stares out at the crowd cheering for him. I LOVE capturing moments like these because they are timeless. Photos are timeless."
Dean could sit and listen to her talk about her love of photography for hours on end. There was something about the twinkle in her eyes and the way her breath hitched, without her even knowing it, as she described the colors coming alive in pictures. Her love of photography was clearly something she would never give up for anyone or anything on this planet. He also enjoyed the backstory with her grandmother, wishing he had something like that. His background wasn't something to talk about or relive; in fact, Dean tried to keep those earlier years of his life locked away in a box in the far recesses of his mind. From the snapshots, he'd already seen her take, he sincerely hoped she never stopped doing this. It was nice to meet someone who had the same passion for something in life the way he did for wrestling.
"You're right about one thing, Maca. I'm probably going to be 97 and wheeling my old ass to the ring, so I can get in it and beat the piss out of some young buck who was talking too much trash and taking jabs at the old timer." Dean admitted with a grin, biting into his pizza. "I really hope you never give it up because you are damn good at it. I just hope you get a job someplace where they actually appreciate you because the virago doesn't." He was telling the truth after the way he'd seen Aya disregard Macaria's name and the way she spoke to her.
"One day, I hope to own my own photography studio and be my own boss. This is just a job I'm doing now, an internship, to get more experience. You have to have some kind of experience or nobody will take you seriously. I'm sure you understand what that's like." More than she would ever know. Dean had to wrestle in alleys, gymnasiums and spill buckets upon buckets upon buckets of blood in order to get to where he was today. "Everyone is passionate about something in their lives and I'm grateful to my grandma for showing me mine at such a tender age. My parents and I don't speak anymore because of my choice to pursue photography. They wanted me to be in the medical field and I told them to fuck off." She finished off her slice of pizza, grabbed another one and cracked open a soda.
"Well fuck, babe, we are just two peas in a pod. I didn't know my Dad and couldn't stand my mother, so I think we're going to get along just fine." Dean took a soda for himself, knowing he'd be working all of this off in the gym tomorrow. "Hell, I can't count on one hand how many times in my life I had a concussion or had to be stitched up. Here's a story for you – I sewed my own nipple back on my chest one night after a particularly nasty bout." He chuckled at the face Macaria made with that confession, pale blues thoughtful. "That's what happens when you don't have proper medical insurance and you get too impatient waiting for someone to help. In the Indy's, you learn how to be your own doctor, you know, unless your head is accidentally removed and it needs to be resewn back on." That got a giggle out of her. "You develop a high tolerance for pain, and the sight of your own blood being on you, and your opponent, becomes second nature. But that's the price you pay because this is what you want to do with your life. And then you get the infamous call from WWE and they offer you everything from medical insurance to clean socks and a cockroach free hotel and you know you made the big time. And it was all worth it."
This man really had been put through the ringer in his career. It made Macaria wonder how long he'd been doing this. Anyone who had to sew their own nipple back on had a true love for this sport or entertainment or whatever one wanted to call it. "It sounds like things aren't as good around here as they should be though." She pointed out in a quieter voice, leaning over to softly brush her lips against his. "Is that where you got this scar from?" She slid her finger down the jagged line down his right shoulder blade.
"Yeah, barbed wire match in Germany with a good buddy of mine, Drake Younger." Even though they put each other through hell in that match, they remained close friends and now Drake was down in NXT as a referee, after retiring from wrestling.
"Sounds brutal." Macaria murmured, looking up into his eyes again and felt him pull her to where she straddled his waist. "Dean, aren't we supposed to wait a little while after eating before going another round?"
"That's swimming, babe. Besides, I want more pictures…" Dean rumbled in a low, gritty tone and smacked her backside, making her jump to brush against him.
Unable to deny him anything, Macaria gave in and they proceeded to sex each other up with her snapping various pictures.
The Peep Show – Smackdown!
Macaria was able to go down to the ring while they set up the Peep Show and blended in with the other photographers. There would be no match for Dean tonight, which was the reason why she'd been allowed to go down there to snap pictures of him. It was just another different thing Dean did in the ring besides wrestle, a different dynamic. However, there was a certain chill in the air tonight and she kept getting shivers down her spine for some reason. Maybe the building was chilly for some reason and the temperature was off, but she highly doubted it.
There was something in the air – an electricity she couldn't explain.
Dean was a guest on the veteran's show and hadn't waited for an introduction, stalking to the ring with purpose. Christian introduced him, asking him some questions and finally got down to the reason why he was on the show. Bray Wyatt. Christian asked the tough question – what did Bray Wyatt want from Dean Ambrose? Why did he attack him at Hell in a Cell and cost him the match against Seth Rollins?
"I don't know, Christian, you tell me, you've been doing this a long time. Why does anybody go after anybody? Why does anybody have a target on their back? Usually, they have something people wanna take away. And that's the interesting part, I don't have anything to take away." Dean had looked down while speaking and finally back up at Christian, trying to make sense of this situation himself. "Bray Wyatt doesn't want a championship from me or anything like that, so what does he want? See, I think Bray Wyatt likes to play mind games with people who can't handle the volume turned up just a little bit," While speaking, Dean did a hand motion to his temple, as if he was flipping a switch of some kind. "He's a manipulator, who preys on weak-minded people. And fortunately for Bray Wyatt, my mind is a very dangerous place to be." That was an understatement. "Bray Wyatt thinks he knows me…and he doesn't. Nobody knows me. See, I can play games too. You know why I do this, Christian? You know why I do this? Cause it's FUN! I like danger. I like fighting. I like adrenaline. I like riding the edge of a lightning bolt. I get a sick thrill from pulling my broken body up off the mat and spitting blood and teeth, and throwing more punches! And I'm not scared to go down any dark alley with Bray Wyatt!"
Just then, Bray's music hit and out he came to sit in his patent rocking chair with a microphone in hand. He started going on and on about fixing and healing Dean Ambrose. He'd done it with Luke Harper and Erick Rowan and now he wanted to do it with Dean. Bray pointed out about the Shield breakup, how Dean lost all the safety and security he had within that group. In Bray's eyes, Dean had lost everything when the Shield split.
"You can be different, I can fix you! Tell me I'm wrong! What do you have to lose?! What do you have to lose, Dean?" Bray challenged, standing from the rocking chair to start pacing at the top of the stage attached to the ramp. He didn't move down it though. "I mean, your own father turned his back on you."
Dean froze from his pacing, his jaw tightening and his eyes turning to pure ice while staring up at the ramp at Bray Wyatt, lips pursed tightly together. Those words had stopped him dead in his tracks. What the HELL did Bray Wyatt know about his father, his past?
"Tell me, Dean, does he still send you postcards from prison?"
"Oh my god…" Macaria whispered to herself, covering her mouth with her hand and couldn't believe how personal this had become. Dean had NEVER once mentioned anything about his family since they'd gotten together, which hadn't been very long, to begin with.
Bray laughed wickedly. "Tell me I'm wrong, Dean! Tell me I'm wrong! Prove me wrong! PROVE. ME. WRONG!" He shouted into the microphone in his chilling voice.
Dean had heard enough and jumped out of the ring to go after Bray, stalking up the ramp to wrap his hands around the Deliverance wanna-be's throat to strangle him. The lights went out again, making him curse and when they came back on, Bray was right behind him, screaming 'RUN!' in his ear. It scared Dean as he jumped out of his skin, the lights going out again, and when they came back on, Bray was nowhere to be found.
However, his laughter echoed throughout the arena while Dean continued looking all around him, his teeth gritted and his temper on the verge of erupting.
Bray Wyatt had just crossed a line there was no coming back from.
