every bone in your body but mine
wait 'til I can hate you tonight."
I hated working the ring with him. I hated the fact that the audience loved the little whore so much. They cheered his every insane move like he was some sort of rainbow haired god. If only they knew the things I know about him.
I hated the looks he gave me as we put on a show of sizing each other up. The gleam in his green eyes, the knowing smirk resting on those ridiculously pouty lips. To a common outsider, his expression would be read as nothing but simple cockiness, but I knew what kind of thoughts were going through that twisted mind.
He's giving me that look right now. Smug bastard is gloating because he got the upper hand last night. What can I say? I was feeling off, had been all day. A brief flash of weakness, letting my guard down, and he swoops in like a fucking vulture and sinks his talons into me and carries me away.
Well, that won't happen again. No way in hell. And I'll get him back for it tonight.
When the match is over, we head backstage to the locker room to shower and change. I don't even look at him during that routine; he stays close to his brother, like they're attached at the fucking hip. When I get out of the shower, neither of them are anywhere to be seen. Must have gone back to the hotel room already. I hope they didn't decide to go out; I've been planning my revenge all day and I'm more than a little worked up at this point.
Moving quickly, I head out to my car and speed back to the hotel. I consider stopping by his room, maybe listening at the door to see if I can hear him in there, but decide against it. Too risky. He shares a room with that fucking brother of his, and that's the last kind of trouble I'm looking to get into.
So instead, I power walk back to my room and instantly move to the phone. Punching in his room number, I close my eyes and listen to it ring.
The shrill noise invades my head five times, and I sigh. Little bitch must have gone out or something. Guess it's just me and my right-handed buddy tonight. Or, maybe I'll call Adam and see what he's up to.
I hear the phone click right before I'm about to hang it up.
My lips twist into a smirk at the sound of that voice, and I just can't help but taunt him. "Charming phone manner you've got there."
He's silent for a moment and when he speaks again, his drawling voice is quieter. Maybe Matt is in there with him. The thought makes me uneasy, but also sends a shiver of excitement down my spine.
"What d'ya want?"
"I want you to get your ass over here."
"Now." It's not a request.
"Go fuck yourself," he tells me. I hear a click, and then dead air.
Hanging up the receiver, I proceed to pull off my shoes and socks and position myself near the door. I know he's on his way, and I know he'll burst right in without even knocking. He's getting so predictable these days.
Sure enough, not five minutes later, he comes barging through the door. But he's not prepared for me to be standing there, and he yelps audibly as I grab him and throw him carelessly against the wall. I reach out to slam the door shut and then pin him in place with my body weight. He pushes at my chest, scowling.
"What in the hell makes you think you can just call my room and order me around like that?" he rants. "What if Matt had been sitting there? If he knew, he'd fucking take you apart, and you'd deserve it. If you ever do that again, I'll-"
I pull away and hit him before he has chance to finish his empty threat. My cock immediately hardens when he back of my palm connects to his cheek and his head jerks to the side, spilling strands of bluegreenred into his eyes.
He looks back at me with unchecked hatred in his expression. I see him briefly suck the inside of his cheek, probably tasting blood I've just drawn.
He's gorgeous when he's hurting, but this is nothing. I have so much more planned.
I meet his cold stare with my own, lowering my voice enough to growl out a few words. "Don't you ever threaten me, you little bitch. That's your last-"
Before I can get out the rest of my warning, he retaliates with his own stinging backhand. The sensation moves through me and settles straight in my groin. Hmm. I didn't see that one coming. Maybe the kid does still have a few tricks up his sleeve. Good. I'll enjoy the challenge.
We both get the same idea at the same time and lunge for each other. Our lips crash together brutally and we both moan at the pain it causes. While our tongues fight to secure territory, our hands are working as well, leaving our clothing in a shredded pile at our feet.
As soon as I've got him naked, I sweep his legs out from under him and follow him to the floor. He groans as he lands on his back, the air rushing from his lungs. I'm on top of him in a heartbeat, making sure he doesn't have a chance to squirm away. I move in and kiss him again, if you can call what we're doing kissing. It's more an invasion, my tongue in his mouth, conquering every last inch. Every time he tries to move, I bite down on his lip, each nip harder than the last until he moans out loud and I taste blood.
With my body stretched out over his like this, I can clearly feel his hard-on press against me, throbbing every time my teeth or hands inflict pain on him. When I pull my mouth away, he gasps for breath, reaching up to wind his fingers through my hair. I start moving down his body, lips claiming his skin. I linger at his throat, sucking and biting the sensitive skin there. He'll be black and blue tomorrow, but what do I care? He's the one that'll have to explain it, not me.
He's trying not to make any noise as I continue my downward exploration, sucking his nipples and toying with that stupid bar through his navel. He doesn't want me to know how much he loves this, but I do. I know because I love it just as much when he does it to me.
His cock has leaked fluid all over his stomach and I lick it up, purposefully avoiding his straining erection. His hands are still in my hair, pulling harshly, trying to guide my movements. My hands spread his legs open and he doesn't fight the movement, probably thinking he's going to get some sort of satisfaction from it. He growls when I do nothing but suck the flesh of his inner thighs, so close to his balls, but not touching.
Grinning, I raise my head to look at him, a cheeky smile on my face. "Beg."
He glares daggers at me, but with the way he's flushed and panting, it isn't very convincing. "Fuck you!" he manages to breathe out, giving my hair another sharp tug.
"You'll have to beg for that, too."
Suddenly, his hand leaves my hair and his foot is connecting with my chest, sending me backward. But this time I'm ready for him, and when he tackles me, I easily counter. He makes this incredibly sexy desperate sound in his throat when I put him back on the floor, but this time I have to smack him a few times to get him to stop his goddamned struggling.
When I move up to straddle his chest, he spits at me, and continues trying to squirm away. It's my turn to take him by the hair, using my knees to keep his arms flat at his sides. When he realizes he's stuck, he stops to catch his breath, which I find to be a waste of such a perfectly good mouth. I tug his head up and put the head of my cock against his lips, looking down at him through the hair that's fallen in my eyes.
"Suck me off, you little whore. It's gonna be the only lube you get tonight." My hand tightens in his hair and I get ready to yank him backward; in the state he's in right now, he's very liable to bite. However, he doesn't move; just stares up at me defiantly, taking rapid breaths through his nose, refusing to open his mouth.
"You'd better get to work or I'll put you out in the hallway right now. You're no good to me unless I'm gettin' something out of it."
He takes my threat seriously and begrudgingly opens his mouth, letting my cock slide into the hot wet heat. Still keeping my hand fisted in his hair I dare to let my eyes close, relishing the sensation of his sucking and his talented tongue making flicking circles around my head. Leaning over him a little, I start thrusting into his mouth, ignoring the gagging sounds of protest. I know he's loving every second of this. And if he isn't.. oh, well. I sure as hell am.
When I pull my cock out of his mouth, he turns his head, choking and coughing. I laugh when I see his eyes watering, making it look like he's crying. He knows why I'm laughing and tries to wipe his face on the carpet; I know how he hates to look weak.
Saving him from any further embarrassment, I move off of him and flip him over. Kneeling behind him, I grab him by the hips and pull his ass up, grinding against him. He leans his weight on his elbows, head bowed. I'm surprised by his lack of spirit, but he must have finally realized I'd won this round.
I silently debate whether or not I want to prepare him, quickly coming to the decision that it would take too long. Using my hands to spread him open, I place my cockhead against his tight hole and rub it around some, spreading my precum and his spit. When I push in, I do it slowly, at least giving him a few seconds to adjust. I don't want to hurt him too badly, after all; I'd be doing nothing but hurting myself too if I put him out of commission for a few days.
When I'm finally buried balls deep, I stop to catch my breath, blinking the sweat out of my eyes. His hands are grabbing at the carpet and he's damn near hyperventilating, muscles twitching spasmodically around my cock. I guess I stayed still a little longer than he would have liked, because he finally spoke to me, the words coming out as a hiss through his clinched teeth.
"Move, goddamn you! Fuck me!"
That's one order I don't mind taking from him. I immediately start a hard, fast pace, slamming my hips against his ass and pulling him into every thrust. Usually he'd be pretending to hate this, that he loathed being used and just wanted it over with. But he'd already blown it with his desperate words, and now he knew there was no point. He's moaning with every movement of my hips, screaming when I hit his prostate head on.
He rarely makes these sounds, and it's driving me utterly insane. I need to hear more. Winding my fingers back through his hair, I jerk his head back while giving his ass a stinging slap with my other hand. The actions produce more desperate, strangled sounds from his throat and I can't hold back a grin. But even when he's on his hands and knees for me, he still can't help but antagonize.
"C'mon, is that all you've got?! That's fucking weak. Harder! Harder, you fucking cunt, I can barely feel it!"
I know I shouldn't let him get to me, but I can't help it. I pull out of him and get up, dragging him to his feet by the hair. He's wide eyed now and clutching at my hand, not sure what I'm going to do. I shove him face first against the wall and hold him there, my hand dropping to guide myself inside him once more. This time while I'm fucking him, I slam the side of his face and head against the wall a couple of times; not enough to knock him out, but enough to make him see stars.
Continuing to pound into him, I put my mouth against his ear and growl. "Can you feel that, huh? Can you feel that, bitch?" I know he can because I can feel him tighten, and I allow it when he snakes his hand down the front of his body, trying to get enough room between him and the wall to jerk himself off. He's stopped running his mouth off, now. Smart kid.
I can feel myself getting closer to the edge and I'm not going to hold it back any longer. After a few more brutal thrusts, I'm coming inside him and biting down on his shoulder to stop the screams that threaten to escape. In my haze of orgasm, I vaguely sense him tighten and shake against me. He sounds like he's sobbing when he comes and I wonder briefly if he's crying. Couldn't blame him, really. This is pretty fucking intense.
It seems like forever before I can see anything but black spots again, and when I pull out of him, he promptly crumbles to the floor. By some miracle, I make it to my bed before I collapse. I steal a glance over at him; he's curled up on the floor, shaking, covered in sweat, blood, cum, and bruises. I wonder how he'll explain his appearance to his brother. We've never gotten that physical before.
I don't say anything when he finally gets up and moves to his clothes, scowling when he finds them in tattered pieces. He looks around the room and for a moment, I feel sorry for him. He looks so helpless standing there, not knowing what to do. Before I even know what I'm saying, the words are escaping my mouth.
"There's a robe in the closet."
He jumps when I speak, as if he'd forgotten I was there. He looks at me suspiciously for a second before opening the closet door and taking out the standard white terrycloth robe, draping it around his abused form and tying it tightly. I hear him gasp when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that's on the inside of the closet door. He does look pretty well fucked.
He looks at me before he walks to the door, speaking almost hesitantly, as if he's not sure what my reaction will be. "Matty'll come after you."
"Fucking let him," I mumble, turning over.
I hear the door close and know he's gone. I stretch and smile to myself, drifting off into a sated sleep.
Lyrics courtesy of Poison and used without permission