Helping Hands - fic
Apr. 25th, 2010 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slashburdTitle: Helping Hands
Author: slashburd
Pairing: The Miz / Christian with mentions of various others
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not know of any of this to be true, I don’t know or own these people (but I'd secretly love to!).
Summary: M/M Slash, semi-smut, if slash offends, please don't read!!
Written as part of the Super Special Awesome Spring Slash Lovers Prompt over at ff.net with a requested pairing. Just thought I'd post it up here too. If you don't like the pairing, please don't read it and hate it.
*
Christian walked back towards the rookie's locker room, fresh from his latest interview with Stryker about Heath's continuing success. When he'd agreed to do NXT he was not expecting anything much to come of it. He had a clear idea of what Vince thought of him since he'd come back from the dark side. He'd accepted that he would be forever kept down, the recent pointless loss of his belt to Zeke had underlined that as Zeke hadn't even been seen since.
That was until his rookie had gone 5-0 over pros and rookies alike and started to look like a really promising up-and-comer. They got on well, and although Heath could be a little bit overbearing at times, Christian knew that there was a lot of potential there and the bookers
obviously did too. They'd also been informed that the identity of the winner hadn't actually been pre-decided which made the entire crew taking part a lot more invested in the project.
It had been assumed that Danielson would sweep the board, be booked almost invincibly and that's why Miz had bent every rule to get him as his rookie. Christian had stood by and laughed as Miz begged, pleaded, footstamped and pouted ferociously until he'd been promised Danielson as his own. How the tables had turned, he thought. Heath was the star performer, his record unblemished and he was getting the respect of the pros in the best ways possible – by beating them.
As he strolled along Danielson came crashing into him, not looking where he was going as his gaze was cast back behind his shoulder.
“Sorry, ohhh God, I'm really sorry Christian....”
The younger man brushed Christian off, straightened out the rumpled white shirt and took a step back. That's when Christian noticed the red mark that burned on the pale skin of the rookie's cheek and he was more than a little concerned as to where it had come from.
“Hey, BDBDD. Calm down. Its just a little bump. I don't bite. So, what's the deal with your face? I didn't see that when you came into the gorilla after your match so how'd it get there?”
Christian crossed his arms across his chest, standing and considering what looked like a hand print that was developing. He had a fair idea having seen more than one of the mentors getting a little but rough but one of them was much more slap happy than the others.
“I, well...I got it from Miz. He was...er...upset with me for...er...'losing' again. I tried to say that I went to the bookers and asked them if I could get a win like he asked me to after last weeks match. Truth is I was just too, well, intimidated I suppose to tell him that they'd said no. When I came back in tonight he just went for me. I got a few shots in but not before he'd done this...”
Danielson brought his hand up and gingerly touched the hot red mark, wincing as he did. The slight puffiness under his eye gave away what a stinging full pelt blow it had been. Moving towards him Christian pulled the younger man's hand away and had a closer look. Blood vessels were spidering across the skin and one or two had burst in Danielson's eye turning it a pinky colour.
“You need to see Vince. He can't keep legit hitting you like this. I mean, c'mon, its scripted. If you're going to get sent on losing streak so be it. That little primadonna should know that more than anyone. So much for him being 'the big I am' and you from the indies. And for what it's worth, bump into me anytime. If anyone here knows what its like to get choked for having a background Creative would rather forget, I'm your guy. You're doing great. You are great. Just, speak up a little more and don't let this carry on, ok?”
On receipt of a nod from Danielson, which Christian hoped would be the acknowledgement that his advice would be acted on, he strode away wanting both to get around to congratulating Heath and have a quiet word with Miz too. He wasn't one for fighting other people's battles but he also couldn't leave things like this alone. Everyone had been a rookie at one time or another, spending years fighting nerves and anxiety which was only ever aggravated by the rough and careless treatment doled out by some of the experienced pros.
He'd spent a lot of time with the often overconfident Heath and talked to him about how to survive in the game long term, how to make his name, how to be strong and negotiate storylines the right way – all the things he thought were key. Christian was not a man who just accepted what people in the industry said to him any more, having fallen foul of that so many times in the past. He certainly didn't like having the law laid down to him when it wasn't justified. It was his hope that sharing stories about some of his errors would help Heath learn and progress. One thing he always liked was a challenge and he sensed that taming the attitude of his rookie would certainly prove to be just that.
He knew however, that all Miz had done inbetween beating Danielson was lead him around like a show pony and try training him on the mic. It was killing Miz that he had the rookie least likely to showboat and he'd even been directly to Vince asking if he could swap for Heath instead or even take Darren from Punk. In short he wanted anyone who he thought was either successful or flashy and preferably with a hero-worship streak inbuilt that would make them totally pliable.
As Christian approached the locker room he heard somewhat of a commotion coming from behind the closed door. He clearly made out one familiar voice but the other he didn't recognise straight away.
“Look, I'm that good, just let me....”
“Get offa me! I don't want this, I don't want you. Just...leave me the fuck alone!”
The loud slam that followed the words caused Christian to swing the door back and as it opened he saw Heath pinned up against the full length mirror by the hips, panting, bare chested, hair messed up and flailing with his arms. Fingers were latched under the waistband of his ring gear; fingers which didn't belong to him. Looking down Christian saw clearly who they did belong to. There was Miz, on his knees, just about ready to take what he wanted and damn the consequences, same as he always tried to do.
“Reso...what...I...you'd left...where the...?”
Christian watched as Miz got to his feet and backed away from the terrified looking Heath but stumbled ass first backwards over his feet and landed hard on the floor. Stepping into the room he went over to the rookie and told him to get his stuff, go to his dressing room and stay there until he'd had a word with Miz. It was a matter of seconds before Heath had gathered up all his belongings and rammed them in his holdall, close to breaking the land speed record as he raced through the door and away to safety.
Turning his attention back to the grovelling wreck in the corner Christian found his eyes drawn to the ridiculously tented lycra that encased the obvious arousal in Miz's groin area. He was known as a notoriously easy lay around the locker rooms and Christian was willing to bet that it was only Heath's inexperience and deference to the man he saw as an established pro that had stopped him from punching Miz clean in the mouth.
“So, Mizanin, nobody else around for you to play with tonight huh? Thought you'd pick on Slater as the latest in a long line of desperate blow jobs you wanted to give, right? Is it the craving for fresh meat or has everyone else finally gotten tired of using you?”
A pathetic look crept across Miz's face, somewhere between shame and annoyance that he'd been thwarted.
“Reso, you're just jealous. You're so old, so battered and broken that nobody wants you. If only you were young and as attractive as me you might not be so bitter 'cos you'd get a little more ass.”
The pout that accompanied the comments gave away more about Miz than he'd ever care to admit. Christian knew that just about everyone in the company, from stage hands to superstars had used and abused that mouth, those hands; just about every part of Miz that it was possible to get off with. He was so arrogant and yet so damned vulnerable that Christian had watched in wonder from afar as the reputation of the younger man had hit the skids, words of how easy he was even reaching the ECW locker room.
“I'm not bitter in the slightest. See Mizanin, I'm one of the elite. I can have pretty much who the hell I want when I want. I turned Jericho down. I turned Copeland down. Hell, I even turned Hunter down. Yeah, that's right, Hunter Hearst Helmsley; son and deviant heir to the McMahon family throne. So why you think I'd be short of offers, I'm not sure. You on the other hand, well, I'm told you're the husky girl that just can't say no. You've had everyone, well, maybe with the exception of JR, Mae Young and me. Hold on, I can only say me for certain. Did you do JR?”
Christian stood with his hands on his hips as he watched Miz clamber to his feet, a hurt look in his eyes and a half-snarl on his lips. The smaller man had very deliberate movements as if he were in the ring expecting to get pounced on or beat down as he moved slowly around the edge of the room. The piercing blue eyes that contrasted against the pointy swathe of brown hair didn't shift their attention from him for a second, the tension in the air palpable. As Miz got almost to the door his expression changed back into its previous cocky incarnation, sure of his escape.
“Like I said, just jealous; jealous of all the attention, all my successes, of all of me really aren't you Captain Charisma. You've never had me, will never have me and will never be me. What. A. Shame.”
Watching the transformation Christian knew exactly how to counter it and began to pace forward slowly, ensuring that the door handle was something he would be able to reach first if Miz made a dash for it. With nowhere to go apart from backing into the wall Miz stood there like a rabbit frozen in the headlights, knowing his way out was blocked and that he realistically stood little chance in any sort of legit fisticuffs. Before long the two men were stood face to face, one looking down at the other, the face of which sported the wicked smirk that had long since become it's trademark.
“I'll never have you? Well, we'll see about that. You know I love being the underdog, not that you're going to be much of a challenge I don't suppose.*
Christian rubbed his hand slowly across the bulge in Miz's trunks and found himself more amused than aroused by the way the eyes of the smaller man rolled straight into the back of his head, his breath hitching as the long slender fingers reached to cup and roll his tight balls through the damp lycra.
“Never be mine...never you said....”
Using the heel of his hand Christian applied pressure to the stiff flesh that was still stretching the trunks and distorting the pattern on the front of them. The drawstrings hung over the top and he used his other hand to pluck at them until they dangled loosely. Slipping that hand into the trunks he worked them down until Miz was totally exposed and he brought both his hands to caress and stroke the painfully erect member that bobbed in the air with every heaving breath that Miz took.
“You'll never have me...that's what you said...and I'm old, bitter and what was that other one? Oh yeah, jealous. And I'm so all of those things that you're here busting out of your trunks because I dared to put a hand on you. Now that, Mizanin, is very interesting.”
Once he'd finished speaking the only sounds in the air were Miz's panting and muttering, both done in time to the rhythm of his hips rocking backwards and forwards seeking more pressure from the hands putting an excruciatingly gentle amount of pressure on him.
“Ja....ay...I didn't mean...oh God...anything by it. You're..just not my...t-t-type....”
The irony of the statement wasn't lost on Christian and he curled the fingers of one hand around the more than adequate shaft, working his hand up and down at a steady pace, knowing with the low keening noises coming from Miz that he was doing something right.
“Not your type? Well I'd better let you go. Then you can go find someone else to play with you. I'll see you around....”
Stilling his hand for a second he watched Miz's brow crease and heard a disappointed sigh followed by a tut. Then the pout crossed the plump, pink lips and the eyelids unfurled themselves from their tightly screwed state. As Miz's mouth was about to open Christian worked his hand again, this time tighter and faster than before with full intentions of bringing their encounter to a conclusion sooner rather than later, enjoying the curious power he had over the smaller man.
“So I might be your type Mizanin after all. I might be the type that for a change doesn't want to throw you over the nearest bench and screw the hell out of you and leave but someone who would rather get you off for a change. Now how many of your other seedy little conquests did that huh?”
Shaking his head frantically Miz bit down on his bottom lip, holding the gaze that Christian bore into him with then focusing on Christian's mouth as he licked his lips just to see the effect on the man who was totally at his mercy. It was clear that Miz, so desperate for release and so unused to being pleasured, was close to losing control whether he wanted to or not after barely minutes of contact.
As he stared on and saw the corners of Miz's mouth curl into a blissful smirk he couldn't help but smile himself. He'd always been good with his hands and had compliments aplenty on their skill. Listening to the breathy pants as they came short and sharp made him start to twitch to life in his own underwear as it always did when he knew what he was doing to someone else. Always a pleasure giver by choice Christian rarely allowed anyone close enough to touch him, let alone anything more. His self defence mechanism was the real reason he turned most offers down. Even he had to admit that the only thing more prominent in his personality than his chronic shyness was his desire to win. Even at sex, he had to win, just like he was winning over Miz.
Feeling the first twitch in his hand Christian tilted his wrist back towards Miz's body and the rapid opaque jets splashed all over Miz's chest making him moan even more loudly and push his head back against the wall. His jaw gaped open, looking every bit the wanton slut that Christian had been told all about. As he rode the orgasm out Miz pushed his hips out, the tanned flesh coated with a sheen of perspiration and the skin above that painted and splattered with silvery trickles of his release.
Gently Christian unfurled his hand and pulled the crumpled lycra back up and over Miz's hips, wiping the sweat from his palm on the material as he patted the front where the softening flesh no longer filled the stretched fabric.
“So, I'll leave you to go get showered. Get the feel of my desperate and bitter hands off you. And while seeing as you're here and you kinda owe me, lay off Danielson and don't ever hit on Heath again. If you do my desperate hands will rip that off and you'll be tasting far more of yourself than you do when you're jacking off alone. Take it easy Mizanin.”
As he turned to walk away Miz caught hold of his arm, spinning him round until they were back facing each other. Before he knew it the younger man had clamped himself to Christian's lips, kissing him like a fishwife who hasn't seen her husband in a year. After a couple of seconds he allowed himself to kiss back, realising how long it had been since anyone had kissed him with such passion, or in fact, had kissed him at all.
A loud laugh in the hallway shook them both back to reality and they split apart, Miz facing the wall where his bag was dumped and frantically wiping at the sticky mess on his chest with his towel. Christian made towards the door and had just got to the handle when it swung back and in walked Danielson, having just said his goodbyes to Evan who was walking away down the corridor.
“Hey BBDB, how did your talk go?”
“Oh, I couldn't find him. It'll keep till tomorrow, right?”
Christian smirked at Miz who was obscured from Danielson's view and had turned on his heel, anxiously looking back at him to see whether or not Christian was intent on giving the game away.
“Sure it'll keep but, maybe he'll go a bit easier on you now. We had a few words, I showed him what I thought of him and if he's got any respect for me, well, he'll cut you a little slack. He's never gonna tie your laces but if he holds off with the hands then me and him will get along just fine.”
The flush that rose up Miz's cheeks was almost enough to start Christian laughing but he managed to hide the cracking of a smile with a cough and excused himself from the room, exiting into the still air of the corridor. He'd no idea how Miz was going to explain the mess he was in or the mess on the floor but it wasn't his problem. He had his own rookie to go and sort out. He'd go and have the bees and the bees talk with Heath but on the way to his dressing room he made a silent wish for Miz to get slap happy again sometime soon.
*
A/N: So, this is probably one of the fics I've found the hardest to write of all the ones I've done so I'm sorry if it sucks. All reads and reviews appreciated :)
p.s. If you're wondering why sarcastic!Christian is calling Danielson by an odd name its because I refuse to call him Daniel Bryan and Christian agreed and found his own way of putting things. I don't ask, I just write XD
Author: slashburd
Pairing: The Miz / Christian with mentions of various others
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not know of any of this to be true, I don’t know or own these people (but I'd secretly love to!).
Summary: M/M Slash, semi-smut, if slash offends, please don't read!!
Written as part of the Super Special Awesome Spring Slash Lovers Prompt over at ff.net with a requested pairing. Just thought I'd post it up here too. If you don't like the pairing, please don't read it and hate it.
*
Christian walked back towards the rookie's locker room, fresh from his latest interview with Stryker about Heath's continuing success. When he'd agreed to do NXT he was not expecting anything much to come of it. He had a clear idea of what Vince thought of him since he'd come back from the dark side. He'd accepted that he would be forever kept down, the recent pointless loss of his belt to Zeke had underlined that as Zeke hadn't even been seen since.
That was until his rookie had gone 5-0 over pros and rookies alike and started to look like a really promising up-and-comer. They got on well, and although Heath could be a little bit overbearing at times, Christian knew that there was a lot of potential there and the bookers
obviously did too. They'd also been informed that the identity of the winner hadn't actually been pre-decided which made the entire crew taking part a lot more invested in the project.
It had been assumed that Danielson would sweep the board, be booked almost invincibly and that's why Miz had bent every rule to get him as his rookie. Christian had stood by and laughed as Miz begged, pleaded, footstamped and pouted ferociously until he'd been promised Danielson as his own. How the tables had turned, he thought. Heath was the star performer, his record unblemished and he was getting the respect of the pros in the best ways possible – by beating them.
As he strolled along Danielson came crashing into him, not looking where he was going as his gaze was cast back behind his shoulder.
“Sorry, ohhh God, I'm really sorry Christian....”
The younger man brushed Christian off, straightened out the rumpled white shirt and took a step back. That's when Christian noticed the red mark that burned on the pale skin of the rookie's cheek and he was more than a little concerned as to where it had come from.
“Hey, BDBDD. Calm down. Its just a little bump. I don't bite. So, what's the deal with your face? I didn't see that when you came into the gorilla after your match so how'd it get there?”
Christian crossed his arms across his chest, standing and considering what looked like a hand print that was developing. He had a fair idea having seen more than one of the mentors getting a little but rough but one of them was much more slap happy than the others.
“I, well...I got it from Miz. He was...er...upset with me for...er...'losing' again. I tried to say that I went to the bookers and asked them if I could get a win like he asked me to after last weeks match. Truth is I was just too, well, intimidated I suppose to tell him that they'd said no. When I came back in tonight he just went for me. I got a few shots in but not before he'd done this...”
Danielson brought his hand up and gingerly touched the hot red mark, wincing as he did. The slight puffiness under his eye gave away what a stinging full pelt blow it had been. Moving towards him Christian pulled the younger man's hand away and had a closer look. Blood vessels were spidering across the skin and one or two had burst in Danielson's eye turning it a pinky colour.
“You need to see Vince. He can't keep legit hitting you like this. I mean, c'mon, its scripted. If you're going to get sent on losing streak so be it. That little primadonna should know that more than anyone. So much for him being 'the big I am' and you from the indies. And for what it's worth, bump into me anytime. If anyone here knows what its like to get choked for having a background Creative would rather forget, I'm your guy. You're doing great. You are great. Just, speak up a little more and don't let this carry on, ok?”
On receipt of a nod from Danielson, which Christian hoped would be the acknowledgement that his advice would be acted on, he strode away wanting both to get around to congratulating Heath and have a quiet word with Miz too. He wasn't one for fighting other people's battles but he also couldn't leave things like this alone. Everyone had been a rookie at one time or another, spending years fighting nerves and anxiety which was only ever aggravated by the rough and careless treatment doled out by some of the experienced pros.
He'd spent a lot of time with the often overconfident Heath and talked to him about how to survive in the game long term, how to make his name, how to be strong and negotiate storylines the right way – all the things he thought were key. Christian was not a man who just accepted what people in the industry said to him any more, having fallen foul of that so many times in the past. He certainly didn't like having the law laid down to him when it wasn't justified. It was his hope that sharing stories about some of his errors would help Heath learn and progress. One thing he always liked was a challenge and he sensed that taming the attitude of his rookie would certainly prove to be just that.
He knew however, that all Miz had done inbetween beating Danielson was lead him around like a show pony and try training him on the mic. It was killing Miz that he had the rookie least likely to showboat and he'd even been directly to Vince asking if he could swap for Heath instead or even take Darren from Punk. In short he wanted anyone who he thought was either successful or flashy and preferably with a hero-worship streak inbuilt that would make them totally pliable.
As Christian approached the locker room he heard somewhat of a commotion coming from behind the closed door. He clearly made out one familiar voice but the other he didn't recognise straight away.
“Look, I'm that good, just let me....”
“Get offa me! I don't want this, I don't want you. Just...leave me the fuck alone!”
The loud slam that followed the words caused Christian to swing the door back and as it opened he saw Heath pinned up against the full length mirror by the hips, panting, bare chested, hair messed up and flailing with his arms. Fingers were latched under the waistband of his ring gear; fingers which didn't belong to him. Looking down Christian saw clearly who they did belong to. There was Miz, on his knees, just about ready to take what he wanted and damn the consequences, same as he always tried to do.
“Reso...what...I...you'd left...where the...?”
Christian watched as Miz got to his feet and backed away from the terrified looking Heath but stumbled ass first backwards over his feet and landed hard on the floor. Stepping into the room he went over to the rookie and told him to get his stuff, go to his dressing room and stay there until he'd had a word with Miz. It was a matter of seconds before Heath had gathered up all his belongings and rammed them in his holdall, close to breaking the land speed record as he raced through the door and away to safety.
Turning his attention back to the grovelling wreck in the corner Christian found his eyes drawn to the ridiculously tented lycra that encased the obvious arousal in Miz's groin area. He was known as a notoriously easy lay around the locker rooms and Christian was willing to bet that it was only Heath's inexperience and deference to the man he saw as an established pro that had stopped him from punching Miz clean in the mouth.
“So, Mizanin, nobody else around for you to play with tonight huh? Thought you'd pick on Slater as the latest in a long line of desperate blow jobs you wanted to give, right? Is it the craving for fresh meat or has everyone else finally gotten tired of using you?”
A pathetic look crept across Miz's face, somewhere between shame and annoyance that he'd been thwarted.
“Reso, you're just jealous. You're so old, so battered and broken that nobody wants you. If only you were young and as attractive as me you might not be so bitter 'cos you'd get a little more ass.”
The pout that accompanied the comments gave away more about Miz than he'd ever care to admit. Christian knew that just about everyone in the company, from stage hands to superstars had used and abused that mouth, those hands; just about every part of Miz that it was possible to get off with. He was so arrogant and yet so damned vulnerable that Christian had watched in wonder from afar as the reputation of the younger man had hit the skids, words of how easy he was even reaching the ECW locker room.
“I'm not bitter in the slightest. See Mizanin, I'm one of the elite. I can have pretty much who the hell I want when I want. I turned Jericho down. I turned Copeland down. Hell, I even turned Hunter down. Yeah, that's right, Hunter Hearst Helmsley; son and deviant heir to the McMahon family throne. So why you think I'd be short of offers, I'm not sure. You on the other hand, well, I'm told you're the husky girl that just can't say no. You've had everyone, well, maybe with the exception of JR, Mae Young and me. Hold on, I can only say me for certain. Did you do JR?”
Christian stood with his hands on his hips as he watched Miz clamber to his feet, a hurt look in his eyes and a half-snarl on his lips. The smaller man had very deliberate movements as if he were in the ring expecting to get pounced on or beat down as he moved slowly around the edge of the room. The piercing blue eyes that contrasted against the pointy swathe of brown hair didn't shift their attention from him for a second, the tension in the air palpable. As Miz got almost to the door his expression changed back into its previous cocky incarnation, sure of his escape.
“Like I said, just jealous; jealous of all the attention, all my successes, of all of me really aren't you Captain Charisma. You've never had me, will never have me and will never be me. What. A. Shame.”
Watching the transformation Christian knew exactly how to counter it and began to pace forward slowly, ensuring that the door handle was something he would be able to reach first if Miz made a dash for it. With nowhere to go apart from backing into the wall Miz stood there like a rabbit frozen in the headlights, knowing his way out was blocked and that he realistically stood little chance in any sort of legit fisticuffs. Before long the two men were stood face to face, one looking down at the other, the face of which sported the wicked smirk that had long since become it's trademark.
“I'll never have you? Well, we'll see about that. You know I love being the underdog, not that you're going to be much of a challenge I don't suppose.*
Christian rubbed his hand slowly across the bulge in Miz's trunks and found himself more amused than aroused by the way the eyes of the smaller man rolled straight into the back of his head, his breath hitching as the long slender fingers reached to cup and roll his tight balls through the damp lycra.
“Never be mine...never you said....”
Using the heel of his hand Christian applied pressure to the stiff flesh that was still stretching the trunks and distorting the pattern on the front of them. The drawstrings hung over the top and he used his other hand to pluck at them until they dangled loosely. Slipping that hand into the trunks he worked them down until Miz was totally exposed and he brought both his hands to caress and stroke the painfully erect member that bobbed in the air with every heaving breath that Miz took.
“You'll never have me...that's what you said...and I'm old, bitter and what was that other one? Oh yeah, jealous. And I'm so all of those things that you're here busting out of your trunks because I dared to put a hand on you. Now that, Mizanin, is very interesting.”
Once he'd finished speaking the only sounds in the air were Miz's panting and muttering, both done in time to the rhythm of his hips rocking backwards and forwards seeking more pressure from the hands putting an excruciatingly gentle amount of pressure on him.
“Ja....ay...I didn't mean...oh God...anything by it. You're..just not my...t-t-type....”
The irony of the statement wasn't lost on Christian and he curled the fingers of one hand around the more than adequate shaft, working his hand up and down at a steady pace, knowing with the low keening noises coming from Miz that he was doing something right.
“Not your type? Well I'd better let you go. Then you can go find someone else to play with you. I'll see you around....”
Stilling his hand for a second he watched Miz's brow crease and heard a disappointed sigh followed by a tut. Then the pout crossed the plump, pink lips and the eyelids unfurled themselves from their tightly screwed state. As Miz's mouth was about to open Christian worked his hand again, this time tighter and faster than before with full intentions of bringing their encounter to a conclusion sooner rather than later, enjoying the curious power he had over the smaller man.
“So I might be your type Mizanin after all. I might be the type that for a change doesn't want to throw you over the nearest bench and screw the hell out of you and leave but someone who would rather get you off for a change. Now how many of your other seedy little conquests did that huh?”
Shaking his head frantically Miz bit down on his bottom lip, holding the gaze that Christian bore into him with then focusing on Christian's mouth as he licked his lips just to see the effect on the man who was totally at his mercy. It was clear that Miz, so desperate for release and so unused to being pleasured, was close to losing control whether he wanted to or not after barely minutes of contact.
As he stared on and saw the corners of Miz's mouth curl into a blissful smirk he couldn't help but smile himself. He'd always been good with his hands and had compliments aplenty on their skill. Listening to the breathy pants as they came short and sharp made him start to twitch to life in his own underwear as it always did when he knew what he was doing to someone else. Always a pleasure giver by choice Christian rarely allowed anyone close enough to touch him, let alone anything more. His self defence mechanism was the real reason he turned most offers down. Even he had to admit that the only thing more prominent in his personality than his chronic shyness was his desire to win. Even at sex, he had to win, just like he was winning over Miz.
Feeling the first twitch in his hand Christian tilted his wrist back towards Miz's body and the rapid opaque jets splashed all over Miz's chest making him moan even more loudly and push his head back against the wall. His jaw gaped open, looking every bit the wanton slut that Christian had been told all about. As he rode the orgasm out Miz pushed his hips out, the tanned flesh coated with a sheen of perspiration and the skin above that painted and splattered with silvery trickles of his release.
Gently Christian unfurled his hand and pulled the crumpled lycra back up and over Miz's hips, wiping the sweat from his palm on the material as he patted the front where the softening flesh no longer filled the stretched fabric.
“So, I'll leave you to go get showered. Get the feel of my desperate and bitter hands off you. And while seeing as you're here and you kinda owe me, lay off Danielson and don't ever hit on Heath again. If you do my desperate hands will rip that off and you'll be tasting far more of yourself than you do when you're jacking off alone. Take it easy Mizanin.”
As he turned to walk away Miz caught hold of his arm, spinning him round until they were back facing each other. Before he knew it the younger man had clamped himself to Christian's lips, kissing him like a fishwife who hasn't seen her husband in a year. After a couple of seconds he allowed himself to kiss back, realising how long it had been since anyone had kissed him with such passion, or in fact, had kissed him at all.
A loud laugh in the hallway shook them both back to reality and they split apart, Miz facing the wall where his bag was dumped and frantically wiping at the sticky mess on his chest with his towel. Christian made towards the door and had just got to the handle when it swung back and in walked Danielson, having just said his goodbyes to Evan who was walking away down the corridor.
“Hey BBDB, how did your talk go?”
“Oh, I couldn't find him. It'll keep till tomorrow, right?”
Christian smirked at Miz who was obscured from Danielson's view and had turned on his heel, anxiously looking back at him to see whether or not Christian was intent on giving the game away.
“Sure it'll keep but, maybe he'll go a bit easier on you now. We had a few words, I showed him what I thought of him and if he's got any respect for me, well, he'll cut you a little slack. He's never gonna tie your laces but if he holds off with the hands then me and him will get along just fine.”
The flush that rose up Miz's cheeks was almost enough to start Christian laughing but he managed to hide the cracking of a smile with a cough and excused himself from the room, exiting into the still air of the corridor. He'd no idea how Miz was going to explain the mess he was in or the mess on the floor but it wasn't his problem. He had his own rookie to go and sort out. He'd go and have the bees and the bees talk with Heath but on the way to his dressing room he made a silent wish for Miz to get slap happy again sometime soon.
*
A/N: So, this is probably one of the fics I've found the hardest to write of all the ones I've done so I'm sorry if it sucks. All reads and reviews appreciated :)
p.s. If you're wondering why sarcastic!Christian is calling Danielson by an odd name its because I refuse to call him Daniel Bryan and Christian agreed and found his own way of putting things. I don't ask, I just write XD
