A/N: Please be warned that this story has a large content of strong bad language, terms that may be offensive to some and references to some religious hypocrisy. If you are familiar with the character of Desmond Wolfe from TNA you'll know that he's not reknowned for his demure behaviour or liberal views. Basically he's in this in a very big way so if you've got a problem with any of that, don't read it. Simple as. If you message to flame me after reading the summary and/or this warning/disclaimer then I'll tell you now that I won't be apologising. Just thought we'd better get that clear from the outset. So, for all those willing to read with an open mind, please enjoy the ride!!
Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo. ~H.G. Wells
The last time Desmond had heard the term "Bend over and touch your toes!" had been years ago when he was just a snivelling seventeen year old trying his hand at being a squaddie. He'd not made it past the taster weekend when he'd found himself abandoned in the middle of the North Yorkshire Moors; as bleak and barren a landscape as the Sahara, except colder and with more rain and sheep. For hours he had trekked towards a waiting camp only to find out that he and the hundred other barely post-pubescent wannabes had the job of building said camp. After two days of pissing in the bushes, living off rehydrated scrambled eggs and wearing more face paint than a drag queen he'd had enough. His dreams shattered he'd headed home and decided to pursue other aspirations, principally the one that had been his biggest since he'd first seen pro-wrestling on Saturday afternoon television as a child.
As he stared at the toes of his wrestling boots those were the wild thoughts that ran through his mind as he waited for the next instruction, the next words to break the uncomfortable silence as his body was being inspected. The blood began to flow to his head quickly as he was left bent there, the thud of the building pressure clearly audible in his ears. From nowhere a hot, clammy hand ran along the cool skin on the back of his thighs and up towards where his damp trunks covered the firm cheeks of his arse. His entire body tensed. Having accepted during his time in the business that certain things would happen, whether he wanted them to or not, this was one of the curveball moments nothing could've prepared him for.
Bent over in the dingy backstage office of one of his lifelong heroes with bony fingers touching his more intimate areas was surely not part of the deal he'd found himself considering. Having spent years either in the midcard or with lesser promotions Steve who was Nigel had turned into Desmond and started to make a name for himself. Using every scrap of his Britishness to make an impression had paid off and the gimmick got him over as quick as any of the bigger stars. His abrasive, London geezer, 'fuck-you' persona was not a difficult one to act out. Most of it wasn't an act. Since he'd gotten serious about getting to the top of the game no matter what it took his fairly mild-mannered nature had been boxed up and marked 'to be reopened after retirement'. Wheeled out instead was someone who not only made but truly believed their own hype. That ego-fuelled determination seemed to be what had led him to feel the cupping of his balls through the lycra that tightly encased them.
"So Des, Dessie, you want to be just like my AJ huh? You want a piece of the action? I can get you that belt. You and Styles can take this place by storm, take it down and keep it for your own. My boys will run this place just like me and Hulk did back in the day. An unstoppable combination, you'll be the best there ever was in TNA, brother!"
Ric's voice was slightly gruff and unfamiliar. He hadn't been around long but it was long enough for everyone to fear the power and the influence he had at the top level. He'd been brought in to lead AJ's monster push and raise the profile of the re-launch but, between himself and Hogan, Desmond knew they'd got it all stitched up. If you wanted anything, particularly if you wanted to get on, there were now even more rings to kiss and palms to grease. Having been taken aside by AJ for a 'quiet word' he'd been told that there was nothing to worry about as his talent had been noticed. All he had to do was approach Ric, make his intentions clear and the rest would be done. That clearly was not happening though and as the fingers of the older man pressed roughly into his warm crevice he bit down on his lip and just waited as the silence somehow dominated any attempts he wanted to make to get away.
"Now brother, you help me, I'll help you. I know it was AJ that set you onto me so he will have filled you in on what I expect from my rising stars. I don't do this for nothin' and you get a whole lot more than nothin' out of it so its a damned fair deal. Now you agree to that, we get the contracts drawn up and your new life begins kiddo. I'm gonna make you the next AJ Styles. Cut in the cloth of the Nature Boy himself. Now stand up and get gone kid, go take a shower, get some rest and come back to me after the show tomorrow with your decision. Make it a good one...."
As soon as Ric's almost maniacal laughter began it was punctuated with a loud 'Woooooooooooooooo!' which was the last thing Desmond heard as he clicked the door shut behind him. The first thing on his agenda was to go and get washed and changed out of his ring gear. The second was to go and find AJ and have his own 'quiet word'.
"You fucking wanker. Setting me up like that ...who the fuck do you think you're playing games with...Champ?"
Desmond hadn't made it to the showers before his path had crossed with the man who'd played him into offering himself up to Ric. The red mist had descended and there he stood, screaming obscenities directly and literally into the face of the company. His arm was braced horizontally across AJ's throat cutting just enough of the airflow to send the tanned face before him heading towards a berry red colour.
"I...I don't know... what you're talking a...about Des..."
AJ struggled to force the words out of his mouth, the closure of his windpipe and the impact of his head against the steel lockers were conspiring against his coherency and his consciousness. Desmond was stronger than he looked and AJ knew he was right on the verge of finding out just how strong which made him choose any words he could manage carefully.
"Don't bullshit me Styles. You sent me to Flair saying I could get a quick way to the top. You know I want success in this shitty company more than anyone, fuck, maybe more than a spineless little arsehole creeper like you. I get there, he grabs my bollocks and tries shoving his fucking fingers up my arse. You knew he was going to do it and you didn't have the fucking decency to warn me? You set me up!"
Ramming AJ once more into the steel Desmond fought the urge to start pounding the semi-smugly expressioned face that looked back at him. He and AJ had never been close, never anything more than casual locker room acquaintances. The God complex that AJ had extended way past his place at the top of the pile. His thoughts on homosexuality, and particularly Desmond's own homosexuality were well known and well broadcast. The fact that he hailed from one of the eastern Bible Belt states was public knowledge and half the reason he had more rabid fans that anyone else. That should've made the personal attacks more understandable but all it did was fire Desmond up more to be as open as he'd ever been. Whilst not a flamboyant character he never shied away from just being himself either, something which had served to piss AJ off over a number of months.
Whilst he'd known that AJ disapproved of the way he lived his life he tended to stay out of his way, mainly hearing the disparaging comments from a distance. Most of the guys cut him some slack once he'd made it clear he'd rather touch himself up than anyone in the locker room. Although the communal showers were sparsely populated when he found himself in there after a match, Desmond didn't mind. He'd not come all the way from England to get turned over by what he perceived to be hypocritical closet cases having witnessed and participated in their same-sex debauchery behind his own closed bedroom door more than once.
AJ breathed in hard to try and steady his nerves, get himself back to some kind of organised thought. He had known what Ric would ask of Desmond. It was something that he'd had to concede to himself. It was true that he had success before Ric arrived but he wanted more and saw Ric as the the golden gates to paradise that would cement him his place in the main event for the foreseeable future.
"I...didn't...what? He did that to you? Des...I'm sorry man. I had no idea."
The words tripped off his tongue as easily as the lies to his wife had started to slip off it recently. He'd been having more and more late night meetings, promotional trips, secretive phone calls and clothes torn due to his carelessness or some punk fan picking a fight outside an arena or an IHOP.
"You're no better than he is. You're a fucking liar Styles. Did you offer me up as some kind of bartering tool? "I'll get you Wolfey if I don't have to suck your pathetic senile old cock any more?" Is that it? You spout all this bullshit about the bible but its not me groping an elderly man with a sac so shrivelled a fucking prune would put it to shame is it? And don't insult my intelligence by telling me that its not true. He said I'd obviously known what to expect because you'd sent me there. How fucking stupid can I get, trusting good little God botherer Allen Jones?"
Desmond knew that he was on the verge of losing it altogether. He knew that if he let himself go much further there wouldn't be much of AJ left that would be identifiable. Pulling his arm down he grabbed the collar of the expensive dress shirt he had no doubt Ric had dressed his plaything in. He pulled AJ close, looking into piercing blue eyes that had widened with fear and for a full five seconds Desmond wondered why he'd believed a single word that had been calculated in the twisted brain that hid behind them.
"Des, if I'd told you, would you have gone to Ric? No. If someone had told me I wouldn't have gone. I'd still be heading down the card, watching the younger guys take everything that I worked so hard with this company to build just cos Hogan wants to sell t-shirts more than put wrestling in the show. I had two choices Des and I took the one that made me the better man."
The moment the final words had escaped his mouth AJ knew that he'd said the wrong thing. He'd all but spat them out to try and justify his actions. The sneer on Desmond's face was indicative of everything he felt himself about the situation and the lies it was making him tell. He knew that his deal with Ric meant he'd sold out everything he'd ever stood for. He knew it was the most awful thing he'd ever had to do in his career but he didn't feel he had any choice in the matter. The approach had been made one night when the plans for January 4th were almost finalised. It was left to him to decide where he wanted his future to go but he didn't feel like he could stand by and watch someone else get that opportunity over him.
It wasn't the first time he'd made a sacrifice to get somewhere but it was the biggest sacrifice on the biggest stage, that was for sure. There were some skeletons in his closet. He hadn't taken beauty class at school for no reason. He hadn't been proclaimed the best hand massager in the history of his teacher's career for no reason. Finally, and most importantly, he hadn't gotten married for no reason. His plain and dutiful wife bore their three children, sons and heirs to the family throne. She had no idea that the gesture of giving their first born a middle name tagged as a tribute to a friend meant so much more than that. A gesture that had been reciprocated by the man in question only months later. Children who were born out of a pact made on a lonely night on tour when it was agreed that 'this' had to stop, had to end. That 'it' was over, whatever 'it' truly was.
Releasing the grip of one hand Desmond brought it across to AJ's neck and slipped his fingers underneath the thin gold trace chain that was weighted down by a crucifix and caressed the metal gently.
"You think he forgives you AJ? He sees you getting on your knees and thinks that's ok because you want to get on in the world. Bullshit. He knows what I know about you. He knows about you and Daniels. In fact I'd go as far as to say that he knows that you and your wife are nothing more than a set-up, a sham. Walking round here, quoting the bible, saying I'm the one who's in the wrong, that I'm going to hell...."
Desmond ripped the chain easily, gathering it and the crucifix in his fingers before pressing the cold gold to AJ's cheek.
"...well you're wrong. See, my God doesn't like liars. My God doesn't care who I am or who I fuck as long as I'm honest about it. We all believe AJ, just some of us believe more than others. Some of us use the power to hurt. That's what what good Christian boys like you do. Is that what makes you the better man AJ? Believing that you're only doing this for your wife? For the kids? Fucking hypocrites like you make me sick, you really do."
Desmond dragged AJ over to the full length mirror bolted onto the wall nearby and shoved him roughly down on his knees. He grabbed the short hair that spiked out from the top of AJ's head and forced him to look at their reflection.
"See that's you Styles. That's the real you that God sees but doesn't know. Only now imagine I'm the bloody Nature Boy and I've got my wizened cock in your face. You can kneel down there till your fucking hair turns grey just like his and tell me all you like about how you're doing this for your family or because you truly are the 'better' man. But what I'll tell you AJ is that you're not a man at all while you're offering your arse to Flair like some back street prostitute with a smack habit."
Not that he had much choice in the matter AJ looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had to admit he hardly recognised himself in the hand-tailored trousers and shirt that Ric had left out for him in his dressing room. It was a far cry from the ripped jeans and stock standard Affliction t-shirts he wore after the bell only a couple of months ago. Gone were all the traces of the man he was and in their place were the trappings of being selected to be little more than Ric's bitch.
A flush of shame hit his face. He'd kidded himself on that this was only a short term gig, that he'd be able to cope with a few months of servicing some old guy to ensure long term security for his family and better still, long term contact with the man he'd loved for longer than he could remember. He cast his eyes up to look at the thunderous expression on Desmond's face as he carried on sneering down at him, the aggression palpable in the way the long fingers were tightly laced as far as they'd go into his highlighted hair.
AJ realised that he hadn't really thought it through when he'd given Desmond the nod to go to Ric. He'd supposed that with Desmond being as predisposed to another man's touch as he was that Ric's demands wouldn't be an issue. Not for one second did it cross his mind that it would speak volumes about what he thought of the man now stood over him. A man, AJ conceded, who was justifiably angry at the assumptions that had been made.
Having all but overtly suggested that Desmond's sexuality would compromise his morals he slowly realised that being gay, secretly or otherwise, had nothing to do with succumbing as he had. It was his own desperation that had made take the deal. Now he thought about it his words about Desmond were a bit rich coming from a closet case who called everyone who wasn't screwing five ring rats a week a fag. All this from the married man who was on his knees for Ric every night and wished for stolen moments with the one man who had gotten away for now at least.
"Des, c'mon. I'm sorry. I never meant anything by it. I know you want to do well, I just... well its how I got here. Don't you want that? I know its Ric but its not as bad as it seems. His demands are...well...reasonable and it don't take long to get something done if you catch my drift. I'm a businessman Des. I gotta make this work. I put too much into this show to watch it all get taken away by some 21 year old in a glittery pair of tights. This matters man, matters so much to me...."
Watching the change in AJ's face softened some of the anger and resentment that Desmond felt. He wasn't meant to know about the thing with Daniels but there were one or two of the guys who'd been around at the time who'd mentioned it to him when he was the butt of AJ's gay jokes. They'd taken him aside in the past to beg for leniency for AJ when they'd found out just what Desmond was capable of. A few of the younger stars had ended up in the emergency room getting stitched up one night after nothing short of a bear baiting session. He was nobody's poofter, nobody's shirtlifter or bender. He'd never been able to rationalise how liking men was supposed to make him limp wristed and feeble when he'd been a world champion wrestler. Slowly he loosened his grip and wiped the waxy deposit that had accumulated on his fingers onto the t-shirt he was wearing.
AJ did as he was told, too confused, weary and scared to argue with the man who'd taken him down too easily for his own liking. He felt himself being spun round on his heels until he stood face to face with the man who appeared to tower over him despite only being a few inches taller.
"Just to let you know, I won't be taking Ric up on his offer. I just don't think I can do that to myself, too much self respect us Brits. Don't just roll over and give up like you Yanks. We fight hard for what we want and we get it by the right means or not at all. I've served my time in this business Styles, I've taken my bumps and I'll get there. See, I'll take your belt away and laugh in yours and Flair's pathetic faces as I do it."
As Desmond spoke to him he was unbuckling the belt and undoing the dress pants of the suit that AJ had worn for his promo earlier. Despite there being no restraint, no force, no other contact AJ found himself stood there, playing possum to the man that had spent the last twenty minutes roughing him up. He didn't dare to look away from the stare-down he'd entered into as he felt the zipper being slowly pulled down. A hand snaked inside and he felt the rough and calloused skin of Desmond's fingertips catching on the black silk boxers that Ric liked to see him wear the most. He had to admit the shorts looked good on him and felt amazing against his skin. Coming from such a poor background he'd never experienced such luxury items and even now he still balked at paying $20 a pair for Jockey shorts. The eager digits soon found their way to his hardening erection and he heard his gulp echo loudly in the quiet of the room.
Desmond saw the flush rising up AJ's face and smiled, his lips curled into the almost trademark sly smirk that accompanied most of the on-camera words he delivered. He rubbed his hand up and down, feeling the smaller man's hot breaths quickening as they blew against his neck. He tilted his head down, licked his lips and moved towards AJ, inviting him in for a kiss.
AJ felt the sensations overriding his fear and his anger, both of which had turned to lust as his body reacted to the touching. Leaning forward himself he pressed his lips to Desmond's, feeling the slippery tongue sliding into his mouth. The confusion at the lack of force shocked him. This wasn't like it was with Chris and nothing like what it was with Ric, the thought of the latter more likely to induce a shudder than a shiver. The back and forth nature of the kiss as he got more and more into it caused him to groan, the degree to which he was now hard making him ache from his waist down to his feet.
Before he knew it, the feelings were gone and he stood there with his eyes still closed, the warm sensation down the front of his body slowly cooling and fading. He looked across to the other side of the room where he saw Desmond with his hand wrapped around the the door handle ready to open it, his holdall dumped at his feet. As AJ clamped his hand to the back of his neck looking for some sense of security he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His lips were red and swollen, his eyes half lidded with the lust and desire he'd allowed himself to slip into. The less said about the embarrassing bulge that strained his exposed underwear the better, he thought.
Desmond watched as AJ regarded his image in the mirror and half kicked himself for walking away from what looked like one of the easiest shags he'd have had since arriving in the company. The taste lingered on his lips and he knew it was one of the sweetest kisses he'd shared in a while. It came with a power and a sensation that only being wanted that much could bring; a taste of victory over someone who'd gone all out to ruin him since the day he'd arrived. He opened the door just wide enough to make it clear he was about to leave and delivered his parting shots with less ease than he had hoped, doing his best to control the breathy tremble in his voice.
"And AJ, just so me and you are clear about a few things...yes, I am a dirty faggot as you so readily remind me. Yes, I'm aware that the bible says that I'm in the wrong but frankly I don't give two fucks what that fairytale says. You have a long look at yourself in that mirror and I wonder if you like what you see. Now me, my conscience is clear. I'm not riding anybody's balls for fame, fortune or personal gain. I don't fondle some fucker's bollocks to get where I am. However, if one day you decide you do want to be a better man once you've stopped sucking Flair off then, and only then, come back to me and we'll have this little chat again you snivelling tosser."
As he went through the door and then heard it click closed behind him, Desmond paused for a moment and then propped himself against the cool painted wall of he corridor. Just feet away from him was a man who's halo had just slipped and now it rested in Desmond's own hands; hands that had just been in the pants of the top dog. A dog who's bark had suddenly become as worthless as its pathetic bite ever was.
He started towards the exit, having made the decision to shower back at the hotel. As he pushed the door open he took one look back over his shoulder, half expecting to see AJ about to jump him and punch his lights out. Licking his bottom lip he caught the last tang of AJ's sweat and for a split second considered heading back to the locker room and screwing the champ through the floor. Smiling, he thought better of it. Precious little Allen Jones would keep for another time.
Oh yeah, he'd keep alright.
A/N: So this is my first go at a TNA fic so please be gentle. I've been watching more and more of it since Jan 4th and this latest in my long line of brain!spews is inspired by them turning AJ into the spawn of Flair and Desmond Wolfe amusing me with his rather non-PC attitude. All reads and reviews appreciated apart from flamers lol :)
I've left it open in case I want to do more of the same and I suspect that I might ;) DW Muse FTW!!!
and p.s. Sera – did you spot it? Black silk ftw XD