Title: My Submission is Your Addiction
: Emono
: Wrestling
: Alex Riley/Justin Gabriel
Under The Rose series
Alex Riley has all the tendencies of a master, Undertaker can tell from the first sight of him. Alex has found an interest in Justin Gabriel, but can he pry him from the claws of The Nexus?
: The WWE is not mine nor are any of it's child branches, it is the 96% property of the McMahon's and God bless the bastards that work for them. I respect the sexual preferences and identities of all the wrestlers on WWE roster, and who they share a bed with is really none of my business.
: Slash, D/S, rookie-love

AN: I…have no excuse for this one. I really just came up with it on the spot. I had this vague notion about it, but then I said it out loud and…yeah, here it is.


The moment Alex Riley step foot inside the same room as Mark Calaway, he knew that Mark knew. He was The Undertaker, damn it, of course he knew. Alex had heard the rumors of The Court all the way in FCW, their influence reached even that cesspool. As the Florida Heavyweight Champion and Miz's rookie, Riley was awarded a little more rights than the rest of the rookies in the NXT roster. His pro was a Master, and Riley's job was to follow him around. That meant to every house show, every RAW taping, all that.

But it seemed the moment his foot touched the floor inside the lobby, Alex had attracted the full attention of the Deadman. He gulped, staring across the room to find those bright eyes on his face. He pulled his duffle bag higher up his shoulder, and went to take another step…but he couldn't. He felt like he didn't belong there, even those his fellow rookies and a mixed set of Superstars were there already (too jazzed up from the house show earlier to go to their rooms just yet. Vince must've been feeling rather generous, this hotel was larger than most they stayed in.)

Of course, he hadn't been traveling with this roster very long…but that didn't matter.

Alex chickened out, he backed out of the room and headed down the hall. He wasn't about to face The Undertaker, not by himself and not this late into the night. He just needed to get his room key and get the hell out of there. Who was his room mate again? He couldn't remember, his mind was like a hornet's nest that had just been smacked around by an annoying little kid with a stick. He hurried his footsteps, hoping to get to the elevators. He could hear something behind him, but he didn't dare look.

Alex smacked the elevator button, all but clawing the doors apart to get inside. He pressed his floor and got to the other side, feeling safer by putting his back to the wall. He tilted his head back, sighing in relief when the doors closed on the empty hall. His breath had quickened up, but he relieved that with some focus. Why was he so jumpy? He was powerful, built…there weren't a lot of people who could jump him and win. He raked a hand through his hair, letting his eyes slide shut.

A few moments after the elevator gave a soft thump to signify it stopped, Alex let his eyes flutter back open. The doors started to open, and he moved forward to get on his floor. He froze, staring in horror at a dark clad chest, wider than his own. He slowly let his neck bend back, raising his eyes to the giant that was The Undertaker. Sharp eyes cut into his face, making him wince. He parted his lips to call out, to beg for mercy he was sure, but he didn't get a chance.

Undertaker clamped a hand around his throat, forcing him backward. He gasped hoarsely, smacking loudly off the mirrored surface of the inner-elevator. His duffle bag slid off his shoulder and thumped on the floor, limp. Mark slapped a higher floor, not once looking at the panel. Alex started shaking his head, as if denying the crime he'd committed without knowing it. He kept his grip firm, but wasn't choking the smaller man. He was looking him over carefully, analyzing every inch of him. Alex flushed suddenly, he felt like he was under a microscope. He knew in that moment that all he heard was true, that this was a Head Master of equally deadly men.

"Did you hear, man?" Alex can still hear Slater's voice in his ear "Your pro? Dude, he shot a colleague in the spine and paralyzed him!"

"What? You're fuckin' nuts" had been the logical response then. But this…no, this was real.

Undertaker could see inside him, he could see the darkness that slept inside him. There had always been a side of him that he wasn't too proud of, one that favored handcuffs and biting and clawing and dominating. One that wanted to take someone under his control, shower them with his love…but also keep a tight rein on. He'd always been attracted to fiery spirits, for he'd always wanted to bottle one and keep it to his chest, basking in it's warmth. He wanted someone for him, and him alone.

Undertaker could see that in him, and he was sure that was what attracted him.

The elevator started going up, but it didn't make it very far before Mark reached back and hit the emergency stop. The lights dimmed, the room jerked to a stop.

"Dude, whatever I did…" Alex began slowly, afraid to look away from the older man "I'm sorry."

Mark chuckled, it sounded like gravel beneath car tires. His humor died away fast, making the slighter man blanch in an almost comical way. The Deadman leaned down, looking right into the dark eyes of the man he'd been watching since Shane had chosen him from FCW to compete. He could see that special gleam in those dark glassy orbs, one that he'd seen in a dozen others.

"You are…" Mark tightened his grip, making the boy inhale sharply "…one of us. Aren't you, little one?"

Alex sputtered dramatically as his throat was released, his own fingers coming up to caress his flesh. He realized that the man could've hurt him if he wanted, and this wasn't a violent confrontation. With the way Mark backed up and gave him room, the slight softening around his eyes…this was something different all together.

"I'm sorry?" he replied softly.

"You've got it, that dominant spark" Mark assured him "I can see it, there…in your eyes. You have a remarkable resemblance to Michael…in so many ways."

This warmed his heart. Alex had been striving to be like The Miz, he was an amazing wrestler and he really had a mind for the business. He'd climbed his way to the top with his bare hands, and had made his way into The Court by proving himself. But what Mark was saying couldn't be true…could it? Was he a master? Those desires he had…was that what they were pointing to?

"I…I think you're wrong" Alex stated bravely, though his voice wavered for a moment.

"Oh, kid" Mark drawled, reaching up and patting his cheek sharply "You'll learn I'm never wrong when it comes to these things."

Alex didn't even wince, just looked up at the older man with hopeful eyes, "You really think I am?"

"I do" Mark replied without an ounce of hesitation "The real question is…what do you intend to do with yourself? You know about me and mine, you know what we're capable of and what we'll do to get our way. What you don't know is that we're loyal to a fault, and you'll never be safer than when you're in our ranks."

Alex was surprised by that. In all the rumors about death and deceit, he guessed the truths about the loyal bonds between the men of The Court. In the back of his mind, he'd realized a long time ago that those men worked perfectly in the ring…they made everything work. And this man right here, Master 'Taker, somehow made all these dominantly inclined men work together in a harmony that created beautifully choreographed matches.

"I don't offer spots" Mark stated smoothly "I only grant permission to those who are strong enough to ask."

"I…couldn't" Alex bit his lower lip "Could I? I mean, I'm in FCW…who knows if I'll ever get into the WWE?"

The older man inclined his head, "If I were to put in a few words…"

Mark trailed off, stepping out of the man's space. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking him over once more rather carefully.

"You have the potential" Mark pointed out "But…I'm not entirely convinced. I want to see more from you. If I see the initiative, Riley…then maybe. Just maybe. One day….you could have my good word."

Mark reached back and tapped the lever, the elevator sprang to life and lit up again. Alex breathed a little easier as the shadows were dispelled, but a part of him wanted to stay in the darkness. A large part of him wanted to revel in them, to bathe in them, to drag someone down with him. He shook those thoughts from his head, blinking rapidly as if to clear his vision of fine dust.

"You won't tell Miz, will you?" Alex inquired, trying not to sound desperate "I don't want him to treat me any differently. I don't want anyone to. I'm just starting to earn their respect…and, no offense, but if they knew-" he couldn't say the word "-what I am, or what I could be…they might think I'm trying to ride on your reputation instead of my own."

Mark seemed pleased by this answer. Surprised, but pleased.

"Alright, I won't tell a soul" the Deadman rumbled "But if you ever need assistance…if being alone becomes too much…we're here."

Alex closed his eyes briefly, he was endlessly grateful, "Thank you."

Mark raised an eyebrow, the elevator coming to a stop. He acted as if he was waiting for something. And as the doors slowly slid open, Alex realized what the man wanted.

"Thank you…Master 'Taker."

"Good boy" Mark backed out of the elevator, fingers dancing over the button back to Riley's level "Going down?"

The doors slid shut again, closing Alex back into the elevator. He sighed in relief, resting his head against the mirrored surface. He struggled much more to settle his nerves this time, they had been sent abuzz by the stronger man's mere presence. After a few calming breaths, he snatched his bag off the floor and hauled it over his shoulder.

Could he really do it? Could he become a master? Be under Mark, work with a large group of main cards…all but run the show. He made his way to his room, mulling it all over in his mind. He had to concentrate on making his way in the WWE, then he would worry about The Court. If he'd be let in was also a factor. How would they react to have a new master in the group after all that they'd gone through?

/I'm getting way ahead of myself/ Alex fished his keycard out of his jacket, stopping in front of what he was sure was his door /First, win NXT. Then get a permanent contract. Then…and only then…can I concentrate on getting what I want./

Alex pushed open the door, not even giving a look around before he shed his jacket and tossed his duffle bag onto the nearest bed. He stripped off his shirt, revealing his white undershirt. He was contemplating a shower when he caught the strong scent of vanilla. He hummed in pleasure, his sap rising at the delicious scent. He turned to find the source, surprised to find his roommate standing there.

It was none other than Gabriel, a man he once considered a friend in FCW. He was standing there in nothing but a towel that was slung rather low on his defined hips, water running down his body in thick rivulets. His raven hair was plastered to his forehead, hazel eyes peeking through the tresses and blinking at him innocently.

Alex wet his lower lip, drinking up the sight in great gulps. His eyes followed a particular drop that ran from his neck to his chest, catching on a stiff brown nipple and staying there for a few moments. The man was gorgeous, his hipbones were deep…his skin a deep, natural, sun-kissed tan. His smooth face was a handsome one, his lithe body thinner than Alex's own.

"Oh" Justin was surprised to see him, using the towel he'd been holding to cover his chest. It was a shy, endearing gesture that somehow turned Riley on. In an unconscious show of dominance, he stood straighter and flexed out his chest. It was a movement to accentuate his muscularity, and from the way Justin's eyes wandered - it was working.

Gabriel suddenly tore his gaze away, a flush on his dark cheeks, "I didn't think you would be back so soon. The shower is free."

"Thanks, man" Alex watched the man as he approached, moving to go to the other bed across the room. Lightening fast, Alex moved into his way and snagged his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted the boy's head up, smirking into his pretty face.

"What's wrong, Angel?" his voice came out rather throaty, making the slighter man shiver "You look a little…flushed."

"I'm fine" Justin assured him "Please, I just…need some rest. Really."

"I'm sure."

Alex let him go, walking away for just a moment, just enough time for Gabriel to let his guard down. At the last second, when that little sigh of relief had escaped the other, he leaned in close to the back of his neck and released a puff of hot air. Goosebumps broke out along the tan flesh, muscles rippling.

"Sweet dreams" Alex whispered.

"Thank you" Gabriel replied, an audible strain in his voice.

Alex left the other hot and bothered, going for the bathroom. He paused at the doorway, both standing with their backs to each other. Something slipped out, something he shouldn't have said.

"You smell delicious…you know that?"

With that, Alex shut the bathroom door and enveloped himself in the vanilla-scented air. He took a long, leisurely shower. And if he imagined a pair of tan, thick lips worshipping his cock…who could really blame him? He took a good half hour to cleanse the sweat and grime from the day from his skin. He emerged from the shower cubicle clean, but the vanilla scent had disappeared and was replaced with a much more manly cloud of Axe. He dried himself off carelessly, not caring if he was damp or not. He swiped a hand across the steamy mirror, revealing his reflection.

Alex cocked his head at himself, giving his body a critical inspection. He turned to the side and flexed, he could feel the power laying within him. Hell, he had potential. That showed in the FCW Heavyweight Championship tucked into his duffle bag. He would prove his worth to Undertaker soon enough. He would show them, he would show everyone.

If he thought back hard enough, he could remember the admiration in Gabriel's eyes when he passed him that day in the locker room on FCW. The day he'd won the championship…one of the first times he'd ever really looked at Justin Gabriel (or Justin Angel, as they called him in FCW) and couldn't stop. He'd fought him and Wade Barrett for it, and Angel himself had been the current champion with everything to lose. He'd been beautiful in the ring, quick-footed and sure in his offense. There was one moment, in a pin Riley had wrestled him into, where he'd felt Angel hard through his trunks. He'd leant down then and whispered in his ear, making sure no one else could hear it over the roar of the crowd.

"You look good on your back."

In a rare moment of boldness that came with the rush of adrenaline, Justin had met his eyes with a cocky smirk.

"You don't look so bad on top of me."

Ten minutes later, Alex left the bathroom. The lights were all off but the small lamp mounted on the wall, the one over the long nightstand that separated the two beds. From the bronze expanse of shoulders peeking out from beneath the plain blanket, Gabriel was already in bed and ready to call it a night.

/Another time, Angel./

Tossing his towel aside in favor of some sleeping pants, Alex shimmied into them before plopping down on the mattress. He gave a content sigh, and for a second he thought he saw Justin squirm. It must've been his imagination, the slighter man seemed to have slipped off to sleep already.

"Night, Justin" he muttered, reaching out and flipping off the light. He pulled the blanket up around his hips, burying his arms under his pillow with another little hum. He buried his face in there, glad to find it still had a hint of vanilla laced into it's fibers. He settled down easily, and soon the quiet hum of the A/C was the only noise.

"…good night, Alex…"

We must all remember this is the last story in the universe, which means everything has already happened. Some things are not how they actually are in reality. Like, Ted and Cody aren't wrestling, so Cody's not a rookie. The Motor City Machine Guns are still around, though they don't appear in the story. Nash is here, mostly as a background kind of guy. Shawn hangs around, but he's retired. All that jazz.