The Maelstrom's Cup, chapter 3 (WWE fanfic)
Title: The Maelstrom's Cup
Fandom: Wrestling
Pairing: Jon Moxley/Tyler Black (aka Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins)
Rating: M for Mature
Warnings: Sexual content, some violence, references to abuse, and other adult themes some readers may find disturbing. Also, as always, all characters herein are intended to be FICTIONAL and are not identical to the real wrestlers portraying them and have no bearing on their real lives/personalities. Capiche?
Summary: In a 2006 that never was, Tyler Black encounters Jon Moxley in Puerto Rico.
Tyler sank down onto Moxley and they lay like that for some time. Now that the glow of sex was wearing off, Tyler could feel the aches from their match, the scratches Jon had inflicted on him, and the tiredness catching up to him. He hadn't slept in almost 24 hours. He knew they should probably talk about what had just happened between them, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and he had a feeling that saying anything would just ruin the moment. Jon's hand rested in his hair, not exactly stroking him, but touching him much more gently than Tyler had anticipated. He rested his head in the curve of Jon's shoulder and closed his eyes.
A rapping on the car door awoke the pair. Grunting, Tyler sat up and forced his heavy eyelids to open. A police officer was standing outside the car, holding a nightstick in one hand, almost radiating disapproval in his stance. Tyler flushed; it must be obvious what they had been up to. They were asleep in the backseat of Luke's car, their clothes half-undone, one atop the other. "Uh, what's his goddamn problem?" Jon grumbled from beneath him.
"Let me do the talking," Tyler said, before apologizing to the officer in Spanish. The officer gestured for them to step out of the vehicle. Tyler hurridly buttoned up his blue jeans and brushed his hair out with his fingers, but Jon pointedly made no effort to make himself presentable. They shuffled out of the car blinking into the bright mid-morning sun.
"What? Never seen two guys sleeping together before or what?" Jon asked. Tyler prayed the cop didn't understand English.
Stony-faced, the officer demanded to see their ID. Tyler showed him his driver's license and explained that he had been driving. Satisfied that they weren't drunk, the cop waved them off with a stern warning not to let him catch them doing anything like that again. "Fuck that guy," said Jon as he climbed back in Luke's car, slamming the passenger-side door with too much force. "The way he looked at us, you'd think he'd caught us fucking in the backseat."
Tyler put the car into drive. "We got lucky that he didn't actually see anything," he said, thinking back to their earlier activities. He glanced over at Jon, who stared out the window and refused to look his way. So the moment was gone.
They arrived at the office a few minutes later. Jon went to get their gear out of the backseat while Tyler opened the office and checked on Luke. He was right where Tyler had left him a few hours before, sleeping upright in his chair, head tipped back, snoring loudly. Tyler had to shake him several times to wake him up. "I'm up, I'm up," Luke mumbled, rubbing his red eyes. "Wha' the hell yeh want?"
"You should go home, Luke," Tyler told him, pressing his keys in his hand. Luke stared at them, uncomprehending. Tyler did not feel like having a conversation about last night with Luke, either, so he went out to help Jon move the gear. Luke shuffled out behind him and went to get in his car. As Jon and Tyler started up the stairs to the apartment, they could hear Luke yelling, "Wha's this then! Wha's that smell!" The two sprinted up the stairs to the balcony, slung the gear into the apartment, and barely made it inside before bursting into laughter. Jon collapsed to his hands and knees he was laughing so hard. Tyler leaned against the wall, holding his sides, watching him. Jon had a nice smile, he realized. Right now he didn't look like snarling Moxley with the hair-trigger temper from last night. He looked younger, closer to his real age.
Jon swayed to his feet, coming to lean against the wall near Tyler. After a minute, their laughter died down, and the place fell silent. There was no sign of Mikael. Jon looked at him; the bruise around his eye had faded to a pale purple. Tyler swallowed. He was trying to find the right thing to say when, to his surprise, Jon spoke first. "The things I wanna do to you..." Jon's eyes slid shut, his hand curling into a fist. He bit his lower lip, as though lost in fantasy.
"Yeah," agreed Tyler. "But you and me both can barely stand on our feet." Tyler's arms and legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. The quick nap in the car hadn't done much to revive him. And he'd seen how bloodshot Jon's eyes were. Jon was just as exhausted as he was.
Jon pushed himself off the wall with such force that Tyler involuntarily flinched, almost expecting Jon to slap him or something. "Okay, get some sleep," Jon told him. He paused in the doorway of his room, then spun around and pointed at Tyler. "But this thing between us, it's not over." He shook his head. "It's not over by a long shot." He turned and disappeared into his room, shutting Tyler out.
Tyler collapsed on the couch, deciding to forgo a shower for the time being. It seemed like he'd barely fallen asleep when he woke again, this time to the unnerving sight of Jon Moxley sitting on the arm of the couch, staring down at him with his piercing blue eyes. Sitting up, Tyler rubbed at his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Five in the afternoon. We slept the day away." Jon didn't sound like he cared at all. "Mikael's not home yet. I wanna fuck you at least once before he gets back."
"Are you always like this?" Tyler asked him.
"You started this between us," Jon reminded him. He stood up and began pacing back and forth before the couch. "I could've left this thing between us alone. But you wouldn't let me. You came after me. There's no going back now. I'm going to have your mouth and your hands and your body, and you're gonna give it all up to me. Got it?" The look in his eyes was wild. It took Tyler's breath away. Moxley really was like an animal, ruled by passions and hunger, fighting for everything. Fighting against everyone.
Tyler rose to his feet. "You're talking like you're gonna top. I don't remember making any deals about that with you." He couldn't help but laugh at the look on Jon's face. "I'll tell you what - let's wrestle for it. Whoever scores a threecount or submission, tops." He watched a thousand emotions cross Jon's face - Jon was intrigued by the deal but wary. Like he thought Tyler was trying to pull something on him. Tyler had no plans to back out of this. He'd had just a taste of Jon in the car earlier that morning. He wanted more, much more.
"Deal." Jon stalked towards the bedroom, spinning around on his heel after a moment. "You coming or not?"
Jon and Mikael's bedroom was small, hot, and mostly bare. Aside from the two mattresses, there was a small end table piled with miscellaneous items, and a couple boxes on the floor. There was a large, open window, covered by a sheer piece of fabric nailed to the windowframe as a makeshift curtain, leading to a small balcony outside. The doorframe was somewhat busted; someone had kicked the door open at some point, leaving it unable to lock. If Mikael came home, he could walk in on them. The thought sent a thrill down Tyler's spine. Tyler was surprised that the cleaner of the two mattresses turned out to belong to Jon, and felt shitty for assuming otherwise. Jon pushed the mattresses back a little, leaving enough open space for them to wrestle. They stared each other down.
"On my mark, get set -" Tyler said, only for Jon to spring at him. Catching Tyler off guard, Jon slung him to the floor, his hands scrabbling to lock in a submission hold. Tyler nimbly countered, using Jon's own weight against him. Without the ring, he couldn't use any of his high-flying moves, but he had more than enough tricks up his sleeve. They locked up, Jon using his bulk to push Tyler back. The fight quickly went to the ground. Tyler almost had a hold locked in, getting ready to make Jon tap out, when Jon suddenly flipped him over, end over end, holding his legs and pinning him to the floor.
"One, two, three," counted Jon. He sat up, grasped Tyler by the hair, and drug him up to eye level. "I win." He smirked wickedly. Tightening his grip on Tyler's hair, Jon reached down with his other hand and palmed Tyler through his shorts, feeling how hard he was already. "Unless... you wanted to lose. Is that it? Do you want to get fucked?"
Panting, Tyler arched into Jon's touch. He needed more - more stimulation, more friction, more everything. He thought Jon would kiss him, but instead Jon caught and held him under the chin and licked a stripe from the corner of Tyler's mouth almost to his ear. Tyler jerked in his grip, freaking out a little at how weird it was, and Jon growled low in his throat. The rumble made Tyler shake, but not from fear. Jon bit down on the shell of Tyler's ear, delicately, just hard enough to send a jolt of pain racing down Tyler's spine.
Jon released his head, only to put the heel of his hand to the back of Tyler's neck, and shoved him onto the mattress. Tyler rolled onto his back, only for Jon to straddle him, weighing him down, and begin working at Tyler's jeans. Their eyes locked, and as every button gave way, the look in Jon's eyes seemed to get more and more wicked. Reaching up, Tyler unbuckled Jon's belt for him, enjoying the feel of the old leather in his hands, the hiss as the belt slid free of Jon's jeans. Every one of Tyler's senses felt heightened. His hand brushed against the bulge in Jon's jeans, liking the little hitch in Jon's breath as he applied some pressure. In a single, fluid movement, Jon lept off him, grasping the hem of Tyler's jeans and yanking them off Tyler's body. He flung the jeans aside, and then shed his own. Tyler let out a low whistle at the sight. "Commando? Nice."
Tyler lifted his hips and wiggled out of his own boxers. He didn't really intend for it to be sexy, but the heat in Jon's gaze let him know that the sight was appreciated. Jon dropped to his knees on the edge of the mattress, elbowing Tyler's legs apart so he could get a better look.
"Jesus fuck," said Jon. His gaze raked from Tyler's face, to his lips, then down his chest, lingering over his hard body, to between his legs. His hand brushed along the inside of Tyler's leg, up to his groin. Jon's fingers moved in slow, agonizing, delicious circles right at the edge of his groin. His cock stood ready, laying against his belly. "You're a work of art," Jon said.
Of all things, that made Tyler blush. "Not too bad yourself," Tyler told him, unabashedly taking in the sight of Jon's naked body. Jon was hairier than Tyler, and a trail of fine blond hair led down his body, to the junction of his thighs. He remembered the feeling of Jon's cock in his hand from early that morning. Now Jon's cock looked rock-hard, thick, and ready. Tyler went to reach for it, only for Jon to bat his hand away.
"Not now," Jon said. "I want to fuck your ass." He was so blunt that Tyler was a little taken aback by it. He wondered what would happen if he said 'no' to Jon. He decided not to press his luck.
He tried teasing Jon instead. "Are you gonna do it right? Huh, Moxley?" Tyler bit his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows.
Jon inhaled deeply, and breathed out the words, "I wanna destroy you." He grabbed hold of Tyler, manhandling him into position. Legs spread, ass up, face down. Tyler heard a rustling sound, and the click of a bottle being opened. He prayed for it to be lube. Jon grasped one of his ass cheeks slipped a slick finger between Tyler's cheeks, beginning a slow circling of his hole. Tyler exhaled in relief. Of course Moxley had lube at hand; he seemed like the kind of guy who would. Without warning, the finger slid into him, deep, up to the knuckle. Tyler yelped a little in surprise, earning a slap on the ass.
"Shut up before the neighbors hear you," Jon warned him. He began ruthlessly fucking Tyler's hole, introducing a second and then a third finger. Too fast and too hard. Tyler tried to muffle his whines in the bedsheets. This was much hotter than it had any right to be. He could almost feel how impatient Jon was to fuck him, feel him vibrating behind him, the neediness as his fingers thrust in and out of Tyler. The mattress shifted under Jon's weight. He rose up, placed a knee in the crook of Tyler's leg, pinning him down. He braced himself with his free hand on the small of Tyler's back, forcing his face further into the mattress. Jon's fingers slipped out of Tyler's hole, and Tyler panted, desperately trying not to tense up. Jon lined himself up at Tyler's entrance, muttering low under his breath - things Tyler couldn't hear - things that sounded filthy. Like he was chanting to himself. Jon took Tyler by the hips and rammed forward.
Tyler's heart pounded in his ears. Jon was fucking the air right out of him. He wondered for the first time just what he'd gotten himself into. His hands clawed for purchase on the mattress as he tried to press back against Jon's onslaught. The breathy, raspy noises pouring out of Jon's mouth reminded him of the noises Jon made while wrestling - somehow, Tyler got harder at that thought.
Above Tyler, Jon was in heaven. If he'd idly wondered before if Tyler was a virgin, at least with guys, the thought was laid to rest. Tyler definitely knew his way around a ring and a mattress. Jon wanted to show this pretty boy slut what he was made of, but he was well on his way to an embarrassingly quick orgasm. It took all his willpower to pull out of him. Jon wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, trying to hold off. Beneath him, Tyler took the opportunity to reach between his legs and start jacking himself off. Jon leaned back a bit so he could see Tyler's heavy balls swinging between his legs, his hard cock, begging for some attention. He lubed up his cock and then used his slick thumb to tease at Tyler's hole again, caress the pucker, before reaching a little lower and cupping his balls.
"Oh god, oh fuck," whispered Tyler. He began jacking himself off faster.
Jon chuckled darkly. He liked being Tyler's undoing. He wondered if he could get Tyler off just with his cock, fuck him until he was coming his brains out. He'd love to see that. He parted Tyler's ass cheeks again, slipping back inside him and trying a series of hard, slow thrusts. He watched as Tyler's face screwed up, his eyes shut tightly, his lips parted as he tried to breathe through it. Forgetting his impulse to fuck Tyler to completion, Jon reached around and fisted Tyler's cock.
"You like that? My hand on you? My cock in your ass?" He thrust even harder, forcing the air out of Tyler's lungs. With most of Jon's body weight bearing down on him, his cock pounding Tyler's ass, and his hand pumping Tyler's dick, it was a wonder that Tyler hadn't crumpled. He was strong.
"Oh yes, fuck..." Tyler gasped, and his body tensed. "I'm - I'm -" Before he could say any more, he came in Jon's hand, wailing, thrashing his head. Jon kept pumping him, wringing him for what he was worth. Tyler looked more beautiful than ever like this, destroyed, face down in Jon's bed, Jon's cock still pounding his ass as he shook through his orgasm. Seizing Tyler by the hips again, Jon gave him several more punishing thrusts, then dragged his nails all the way down Tyler's back, from the nape of his neck to the crack of his ass, the shout as he orgasmed drowning out Tyler's cry of pain. Finished, Jon pulled out of him, letting Tyler slump onto the bed. He sat back on his heels, sucking in lungfuls of the humid, tropical air. Sweat dripped down Jon's body. Tyler glistened, the red scratch marks down his back standing out sharply against his brown skin. Jon hungrily looked him over. No one should look as gorgeous as Tyler did, fucked out, shaking from pleasure and pain.
Tyler wiped his face with the corner of one of Jon's bedsheets. He rolled onto his side, his dark eyes staring up at Jon. "I thought you were gonna kill me," he said softly.
"Did I fuck you right?"
"Yeah." Tyler wiped sweat from his brow. "Yeah, you did. Goddamn. I don't think I've ever had it like that."
Jon got to his feet, looming over the bed. "Don't think I'm finished with you," he told Tyler. "I haven't got half of what I want out of you. Before this is done, I'm gonna destroy you. Ruin you. You'll never get this from anyone else." He widened his eyes. "Believe me."
Tyler tipped his head back against the mattress. "I can't wait."
They both took showers, seperately. Tyler wasn't sure he was up for round two so quickly. The fresh scratch marks on his back ached in the shower, and his ass and hips felt sore as hell. There had been a moment, right before he came, when he had thought Jon was about to fuck the life out of him. He grunted as he tugged at his own dick under the shower spray. He'd come so hard that the world whited out for a single, blissful second. Such a turn-on thinking that Mikael was going to walk in on them, or that a neighbor might hear or see them out the open window. Tyler was a sense freak, always had been. Nothing was ever enough for him. For the first time, he was unsure if he could handle what he'd gotten himself into, and that made him wildly excited. Whatever this thing was, he wanted to ride it out to the end. He came against the shower wall, then rinsed off and got out. He put on his gym shorts and gingerly walked into the living room to find Jon waiting for him in the kitchenette.
Jon had slicked back his own freshly-washed hair. While Tyler was in the shower, he'd left and brought back a plastic bag filled with colorful fruit. "I, uh, didn't know what you'd want," Jon told him. "So I just bought some of everything." The bag was filled with bananas, papaya, passionfruit, mangoes, and a few others Tyler didn't recognize. He took out a passionfruit and sliced it open, scooping out a mouthful of the juicy seeds. He smiled up at Jon gratefully.
Jon reached up to brush a drop of juice from Tyler's lip. He sucked the drop off his fingertip, then took out one of the larger green fruits and peeled it. "They call this a corazon here," Jon said. "I don't think there's a word for it in English. Anyway, its my favorite." He bit into the flesh of the corazon, his eyes closing in rapture. "I love it. The only good thing about this fucking hellhole is the fruit. Something is always in season."
Tyler caught his hand by the wrist, pulling Jon in a little closer. Jon's eyes slid open, and the wariness was back. Did this guy ever relax? Tyler guessed not. He smiled his most disarming smile and leaned in, planting a kiss on Jon's lips. He pulled back, sucking his own bottom lip into his mouth. "Delicious," said Tyler appreciatively.
Fandom: Wrestling
Pairing: Jon Moxley/Tyler Black (aka Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins)
Rating: M for Mature
Warnings: Sexual content, some violence, references to abuse, and other adult themes some readers may find disturbing. Also, as always, all characters herein are intended to be FICTIONAL and are not identical to the real wrestlers portraying them and have no bearing on their real lives/personalities. Capiche?
Summary: In a 2006 that never was, Tyler Black encounters Jon Moxley in Puerto Rico.
Tyler sank down onto Moxley and they lay like that for some time. Now that the glow of sex was wearing off, Tyler could feel the aches from their match, the scratches Jon had inflicted on him, and the tiredness catching up to him. He hadn't slept in almost 24 hours. He knew they should probably talk about what had just happened between them, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and he had a feeling that saying anything would just ruin the moment. Jon's hand rested in his hair, not exactly stroking him, but touching him much more gently than Tyler had anticipated. He rested his head in the curve of Jon's shoulder and closed his eyes.
A rapping on the car door awoke the pair. Grunting, Tyler sat up and forced his heavy eyelids to open. A police officer was standing outside the car, holding a nightstick in one hand, almost radiating disapproval in his stance. Tyler flushed; it must be obvious what they had been up to. They were asleep in the backseat of Luke's car, their clothes half-undone, one atop the other. "Uh, what's his goddamn problem?" Jon grumbled from beneath him.
"Let me do the talking," Tyler said, before apologizing to the officer in Spanish. The officer gestured for them to step out of the vehicle. Tyler hurridly buttoned up his blue jeans and brushed his hair out with his fingers, but Jon pointedly made no effort to make himself presentable. They shuffled out of the car blinking into the bright mid-morning sun.
"What? Never seen two guys sleeping together before or what?" Jon asked. Tyler prayed the cop didn't understand English.
Stony-faced, the officer demanded to see their ID. Tyler showed him his driver's license and explained that he had been driving. Satisfied that they weren't drunk, the cop waved them off with a stern warning not to let him catch them doing anything like that again. "Fuck that guy," said Jon as he climbed back in Luke's car, slamming the passenger-side door with too much force. "The way he looked at us, you'd think he'd caught us fucking in the backseat."
Tyler put the car into drive. "We got lucky that he didn't actually see anything," he said, thinking back to their earlier activities. He glanced over at Jon, who stared out the window and refused to look his way. So the moment was gone.
They arrived at the office a few minutes later. Jon went to get their gear out of the backseat while Tyler opened the office and checked on Luke. He was right where Tyler had left him a few hours before, sleeping upright in his chair, head tipped back, snoring loudly. Tyler had to shake him several times to wake him up. "I'm up, I'm up," Luke mumbled, rubbing his red eyes. "Wha' the hell yeh want?"
"You should go home, Luke," Tyler told him, pressing his keys in his hand. Luke stared at them, uncomprehending. Tyler did not feel like having a conversation about last night with Luke, either, so he went out to help Jon move the gear. Luke shuffled out behind him and went to get in his car. As Jon and Tyler started up the stairs to the apartment, they could hear Luke yelling, "Wha's this then! Wha's that smell!" The two sprinted up the stairs to the balcony, slung the gear into the apartment, and barely made it inside before bursting into laughter. Jon collapsed to his hands and knees he was laughing so hard. Tyler leaned against the wall, holding his sides, watching him. Jon had a nice smile, he realized. Right now he didn't look like snarling Moxley with the hair-trigger temper from last night. He looked younger, closer to his real age.
Jon swayed to his feet, coming to lean against the wall near Tyler. After a minute, their laughter died down, and the place fell silent. There was no sign of Mikael. Jon looked at him; the bruise around his eye had faded to a pale purple. Tyler swallowed. He was trying to find the right thing to say when, to his surprise, Jon spoke first. "The things I wanna do to you..." Jon's eyes slid shut, his hand curling into a fist. He bit his lower lip, as though lost in fantasy.
"Yeah," agreed Tyler. "But you and me both can barely stand on our feet." Tyler's arms and legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. The quick nap in the car hadn't done much to revive him. And he'd seen how bloodshot Jon's eyes were. Jon was just as exhausted as he was.
Jon pushed himself off the wall with such force that Tyler involuntarily flinched, almost expecting Jon to slap him or something. "Okay, get some sleep," Jon told him. He paused in the doorway of his room, then spun around and pointed at Tyler. "But this thing between us, it's not over." He shook his head. "It's not over by a long shot." He turned and disappeared into his room, shutting Tyler out.
Tyler collapsed on the couch, deciding to forgo a shower for the time being. It seemed like he'd barely fallen asleep when he woke again, this time to the unnerving sight of Jon Moxley sitting on the arm of the couch, staring down at him with his piercing blue eyes. Sitting up, Tyler rubbed at his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Five in the afternoon. We slept the day away." Jon didn't sound like he cared at all. "Mikael's not home yet. I wanna fuck you at least once before he gets back."
"Are you always like this?" Tyler asked him.
"You started this between us," Jon reminded him. He stood up and began pacing back and forth before the couch. "I could've left this thing between us alone. But you wouldn't let me. You came after me. There's no going back now. I'm going to have your mouth and your hands and your body, and you're gonna give it all up to me. Got it?" The look in his eyes was wild. It took Tyler's breath away. Moxley really was like an animal, ruled by passions and hunger, fighting for everything. Fighting against everyone.
Tyler rose to his feet. "You're talking like you're gonna top. I don't remember making any deals about that with you." He couldn't help but laugh at the look on Jon's face. "I'll tell you what - let's wrestle for it. Whoever scores a threecount or submission, tops." He watched a thousand emotions cross Jon's face - Jon was intrigued by the deal but wary. Like he thought Tyler was trying to pull something on him. Tyler had no plans to back out of this. He'd had just a taste of Jon in the car earlier that morning. He wanted more, much more.
"Deal." Jon stalked towards the bedroom, spinning around on his heel after a moment. "You coming or not?"
Jon and Mikael's bedroom was small, hot, and mostly bare. Aside from the two mattresses, there was a small end table piled with miscellaneous items, and a couple boxes on the floor. There was a large, open window, covered by a sheer piece of fabric nailed to the windowframe as a makeshift curtain, leading to a small balcony outside. The doorframe was somewhat busted; someone had kicked the door open at some point, leaving it unable to lock. If Mikael came home, he could walk in on them. The thought sent a thrill down Tyler's spine. Tyler was surprised that the cleaner of the two mattresses turned out to belong to Jon, and felt shitty for assuming otherwise. Jon pushed the mattresses back a little, leaving enough open space for them to wrestle. They stared each other down.
"On my mark, get set -" Tyler said, only for Jon to spring at him. Catching Tyler off guard, Jon slung him to the floor, his hands scrabbling to lock in a submission hold. Tyler nimbly countered, using Jon's own weight against him. Without the ring, he couldn't use any of his high-flying moves, but he had more than enough tricks up his sleeve. They locked up, Jon using his bulk to push Tyler back. The fight quickly went to the ground. Tyler almost had a hold locked in, getting ready to make Jon tap out, when Jon suddenly flipped him over, end over end, holding his legs and pinning him to the floor.
"One, two, three," counted Jon. He sat up, grasped Tyler by the hair, and drug him up to eye level. "I win." He smirked wickedly. Tightening his grip on Tyler's hair, Jon reached down with his other hand and palmed Tyler through his shorts, feeling how hard he was already. "Unless... you wanted to lose. Is that it? Do you want to get fucked?"
Panting, Tyler arched into Jon's touch. He needed more - more stimulation, more friction, more everything. He thought Jon would kiss him, but instead Jon caught and held him under the chin and licked a stripe from the corner of Tyler's mouth almost to his ear. Tyler jerked in his grip, freaking out a little at how weird it was, and Jon growled low in his throat. The rumble made Tyler shake, but not from fear. Jon bit down on the shell of Tyler's ear, delicately, just hard enough to send a jolt of pain racing down Tyler's spine.
Jon released his head, only to put the heel of his hand to the back of Tyler's neck, and shoved him onto the mattress. Tyler rolled onto his back, only for Jon to straddle him, weighing him down, and begin working at Tyler's jeans. Their eyes locked, and as every button gave way, the look in Jon's eyes seemed to get more and more wicked. Reaching up, Tyler unbuckled Jon's belt for him, enjoying the feel of the old leather in his hands, the hiss as the belt slid free of Jon's jeans. Every one of Tyler's senses felt heightened. His hand brushed against the bulge in Jon's jeans, liking the little hitch in Jon's breath as he applied some pressure. In a single, fluid movement, Jon lept off him, grasping the hem of Tyler's jeans and yanking them off Tyler's body. He flung the jeans aside, and then shed his own. Tyler let out a low whistle at the sight. "Commando? Nice."
Tyler lifted his hips and wiggled out of his own boxers. He didn't really intend for it to be sexy, but the heat in Jon's gaze let him know that the sight was appreciated. Jon dropped to his knees on the edge of the mattress, elbowing Tyler's legs apart so he could get a better look.
"Jesus fuck," said Jon. His gaze raked from Tyler's face, to his lips, then down his chest, lingering over his hard body, to between his legs. His hand brushed along the inside of Tyler's leg, up to his groin. Jon's fingers moved in slow, agonizing, delicious circles right at the edge of his groin. His cock stood ready, laying against his belly. "You're a work of art," Jon said.
Of all things, that made Tyler blush. "Not too bad yourself," Tyler told him, unabashedly taking in the sight of Jon's naked body. Jon was hairier than Tyler, and a trail of fine blond hair led down his body, to the junction of his thighs. He remembered the feeling of Jon's cock in his hand from early that morning. Now Jon's cock looked rock-hard, thick, and ready. Tyler went to reach for it, only for Jon to bat his hand away.
"Not now," Jon said. "I want to fuck your ass." He was so blunt that Tyler was a little taken aback by it. He wondered what would happen if he said 'no' to Jon. He decided not to press his luck.
He tried teasing Jon instead. "Are you gonna do it right? Huh, Moxley?" Tyler bit his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows.
Jon inhaled deeply, and breathed out the words, "I wanna destroy you." He grabbed hold of Tyler, manhandling him into position. Legs spread, ass up, face down. Tyler heard a rustling sound, and the click of a bottle being opened. He prayed for it to be lube. Jon grasped one of his ass cheeks slipped a slick finger between Tyler's cheeks, beginning a slow circling of his hole. Tyler exhaled in relief. Of course Moxley had lube at hand; he seemed like the kind of guy who would. Without warning, the finger slid into him, deep, up to the knuckle. Tyler yelped a little in surprise, earning a slap on the ass.
"Shut up before the neighbors hear you," Jon warned him. He began ruthlessly fucking Tyler's hole, introducing a second and then a third finger. Too fast and too hard. Tyler tried to muffle his whines in the bedsheets. This was much hotter than it had any right to be. He could almost feel how impatient Jon was to fuck him, feel him vibrating behind him, the neediness as his fingers thrust in and out of Tyler. The mattress shifted under Jon's weight. He rose up, placed a knee in the crook of Tyler's leg, pinning him down. He braced himself with his free hand on the small of Tyler's back, forcing his face further into the mattress. Jon's fingers slipped out of Tyler's hole, and Tyler panted, desperately trying not to tense up. Jon lined himself up at Tyler's entrance, muttering low under his breath - things Tyler couldn't hear - things that sounded filthy. Like he was chanting to himself. Jon took Tyler by the hips and rammed forward.
Tyler's heart pounded in his ears. Jon was fucking the air right out of him. He wondered for the first time just what he'd gotten himself into. His hands clawed for purchase on the mattress as he tried to press back against Jon's onslaught. The breathy, raspy noises pouring out of Jon's mouth reminded him of the noises Jon made while wrestling - somehow, Tyler got harder at that thought.
Above Tyler, Jon was in heaven. If he'd idly wondered before if Tyler was a virgin, at least with guys, the thought was laid to rest. Tyler definitely knew his way around a ring and a mattress. Jon wanted to show this pretty boy slut what he was made of, but he was well on his way to an embarrassingly quick orgasm. It took all his willpower to pull out of him. Jon wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, trying to hold off. Beneath him, Tyler took the opportunity to reach between his legs and start jacking himself off. Jon leaned back a bit so he could see Tyler's heavy balls swinging between his legs, his hard cock, begging for some attention. He lubed up his cock and then used his slick thumb to tease at Tyler's hole again, caress the pucker, before reaching a little lower and cupping his balls.
"Oh god, oh fuck," whispered Tyler. He began jacking himself off faster.
Jon chuckled darkly. He liked being Tyler's undoing. He wondered if he could get Tyler off just with his cock, fuck him until he was coming his brains out. He'd love to see that. He parted Tyler's ass cheeks again, slipping back inside him and trying a series of hard, slow thrusts. He watched as Tyler's face screwed up, his eyes shut tightly, his lips parted as he tried to breathe through it. Forgetting his impulse to fuck Tyler to completion, Jon reached around and fisted Tyler's cock.
"You like that? My hand on you? My cock in your ass?" He thrust even harder, forcing the air out of Tyler's lungs. With most of Jon's body weight bearing down on him, his cock pounding Tyler's ass, and his hand pumping Tyler's dick, it was a wonder that Tyler hadn't crumpled. He was strong.
"Oh yes, fuck..." Tyler gasped, and his body tensed. "I'm - I'm -" Before he could say any more, he came in Jon's hand, wailing, thrashing his head. Jon kept pumping him, wringing him for what he was worth. Tyler looked more beautiful than ever like this, destroyed, face down in Jon's bed, Jon's cock still pounding his ass as he shook through his orgasm. Seizing Tyler by the hips again, Jon gave him several more punishing thrusts, then dragged his nails all the way down Tyler's back, from the nape of his neck to the crack of his ass, the shout as he orgasmed drowning out Tyler's cry of pain. Finished, Jon pulled out of him, letting Tyler slump onto the bed. He sat back on his heels, sucking in lungfuls of the humid, tropical air. Sweat dripped down Jon's body. Tyler glistened, the red scratch marks down his back standing out sharply against his brown skin. Jon hungrily looked him over. No one should look as gorgeous as Tyler did, fucked out, shaking from pleasure and pain.
Tyler wiped his face with the corner of one of Jon's bedsheets. He rolled onto his side, his dark eyes staring up at Jon. "I thought you were gonna kill me," he said softly.
"Did I fuck you right?"
"Yeah." Tyler wiped sweat from his brow. "Yeah, you did. Goddamn. I don't think I've ever had it like that."
Jon got to his feet, looming over the bed. "Don't think I'm finished with you," he told Tyler. "I haven't got half of what I want out of you. Before this is done, I'm gonna destroy you. Ruin you. You'll never get this from anyone else." He widened his eyes. "Believe me."
Tyler tipped his head back against the mattress. "I can't wait."
They both took showers, seperately. Tyler wasn't sure he was up for round two so quickly. The fresh scratch marks on his back ached in the shower, and his ass and hips felt sore as hell. There had been a moment, right before he came, when he had thought Jon was about to fuck the life out of him. He grunted as he tugged at his own dick under the shower spray. He'd come so hard that the world whited out for a single, blissful second. Such a turn-on thinking that Mikael was going to walk in on them, or that a neighbor might hear or see them out the open window. Tyler was a sense freak, always had been. Nothing was ever enough for him. For the first time, he was unsure if he could handle what he'd gotten himself into, and that made him wildly excited. Whatever this thing was, he wanted to ride it out to the end. He came against the shower wall, then rinsed off and got out. He put on his gym shorts and gingerly walked into the living room to find Jon waiting for him in the kitchenette.
Jon had slicked back his own freshly-washed hair. While Tyler was in the shower, he'd left and brought back a plastic bag filled with colorful fruit. "I, uh, didn't know what you'd want," Jon told him. "So I just bought some of everything." The bag was filled with bananas, papaya, passionfruit, mangoes, and a few others Tyler didn't recognize. He took out a passionfruit and sliced it open, scooping out a mouthful of the juicy seeds. He smiled up at Jon gratefully.
Jon reached up to brush a drop of juice from Tyler's lip. He sucked the drop off his fingertip, then took out one of the larger green fruits and peeled it. "They call this a corazon here," Jon said. "I don't think there's a word for it in English. Anyway, its my favorite." He bit into the flesh of the corazon, his eyes closing in rapture. "I love it. The only good thing about this fucking hellhole is the fruit. Something is always in season."
Tyler caught his hand by the wrist, pulling Jon in a little closer. Jon's eyes slid open, and the wariness was back. Did this guy ever relax? Tyler guessed not. He smiled his most disarming smile and leaned in, planting a kiss on Jon's lips. He pulled back, sucking his own bottom lip into his mouth. "Delicious," said Tyler appreciatively.