Title: Running With Foreign Objects
Genre: Slash fanfiction
Length: Ca 4300 words.
Fandom: Professional wrestling.
Rating: Teen and up (explicit).
Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins.
Tags: Wrestling, humor, sex toys, first time, rimming.
Summary: “If he hadn’t had as much practice in keeping a straight, if deranged, face, he’d have buckled over with laughter, but as it was, he kept his find below the rails and straightened up again, crazed snarl in place.
“Now, Rollins, you’re really going to get it! You’ll get it so hard that you’ll see stars before I’m finished with you!”"
AN: The following is of course damned lies and all made up by me, without any claim of knowing much about the persons or characters this piece of fiction is built upon. But it was fun to write, and fun to try to fix it onto a believable base. I hope you’ll like it too.
It is sadly unbetaed, but I thought the idea was good enough to deserve posting anyway. If you’ve found annoying parts of any kind, please send me your points an e-mail (my address can be found in “About Koe“) and I’ll seriously consider fixing it. Thank you! Comments here are welcome too, of course.
Also thanks to transemacabre who got me hooked on professional wrestling (slash) in the first place. What a nice addiction.
The last red rays of sunlight spread prettily over the far wall. It would be dark out very soon. The huge and too warm training gym smelled of sweat and eroding rubber. By this hour the corner with the ring in it was the only area left lit. The ring mat they were practicing on was graying heavily towards the middle, probably stained by every kind of bodily fluid in existence.
The two of them were circling each other, practicing attacks, holds and throws. There would be a televised show two days from now and it wouldn’t do to come unprepared. The audience demanded the very best and the company was delivering. The headlining wrestlers would be the ones putting on the wildest show and before that: the longest hours of practicing; so here they were.
They hadn’t been told yet what kind of match it was going to be, but the managers were surely having something spectacular in mind. The goal was, as usual, to make it that more exiting and brutal looking than the last one without any of them actually getting badly hurt or killed. It was a fine line to thread.
They didn’t know who they would be fighting either. The company had this irritating, but tension building, habit of keeping the details from them until the very last minute. The last time they had headlined together they got notice only the day before. And while Dean was glad to headline – who wouldn’t – it was stressful to be kept on edge all the time. He was used to it of course, as were the other top wrestlers, but still. At least there were established coping mechanisms; like training. Exercising, practicing, training, training, training. They were both doing rounds with whomever willing, whenever they could. The company could set up their routines and wave their preferences and rule-sets high, but Seth and he shared the belief that broad experience, and a lot of it, would always be the best way to prepare.
There were good sparring partners and less so, of course. Seth was one of the better, with a style that resonated with Dean’s own. It had been a while since they faced off now and Dean had missed it. A lot, he admitted to himself when he got aware of the feeling.
It was not that they were alike or even liking or doing the same things, it was more the opposite; like they filled out and extended each other in the ring. They could read the other perfectly and predict every move, even when they themselves would have chosen a totally different tack. It was liberating too, in that it gave great flow, time to spare and overview in the midst of what seemed like chaos to a bystander.
That stuff, the structure of chaos: their signature moves, the big match turning elements and all that fast, rhythmic tension increasing filler had to be practiced. Practiced and practiced until every muscle, every fiber remembered: until doing it right was an automatically trigged nerve reflex. No more winging it like they could without much thought when they were younger, more lightweight and limber men. Now it was hard work through and through that allowed for perfection. It had to do with their current status too, of course: there were different standards for small time indie wrestlers and professional worldwide superstars.
Their shared indie background was probably some of the reason why they clicked so well in the ring and why they liked to hone that rhythm against each other. Their palpable chemistry was also why the company had had them both teaming up and feuding and now they were – both likely going up against other opponents in their next matches – probably meant to keep their personal feud at a low simmer; preparing for an even more spectacular blow out in the future.
At least they knew each other like the back of their own hands. They were on the same page professionally, if not always personally. The way Dean’s promoted character was seen as brooding and unstable and Seth’s keen and impressionable wasn’t that far from the truth: their temperaments were somewhat clashing. They were just so much more professional colleagues than sworn enemies out of the camera.
Seth’s and his fighting relationship had been some of the most fun and profitable of Dean career so far. Not that he wasn’t pleased with his career anyway: getting this far in wrestling was really very, very far. And it made for good income. Perhaps he’d even manage to get out of it when the going still was good; his savings account was reassuringly healthy nowadays. Another hard earned lesson of life right there.
The two of them were repeating especially challenging moves for the ‘nth time tonight. What they were practicing: the in-between moves, the filler, was mostly Seth’s choreography. He might not be the most inventive when it came to the larger story arcs (perhaps he was one of the worst there actually), but he had real flair when it came to in-game unpredictable nerve and fluency.
Bray and Daniel had been here too earlier on, working out and discussing and testing out finer points, but they had left long ago. Dean couldn’t remember what had been their excuse for backing out, but they had looked bored. Besides, Dean knew they both had stuff they’d rather do this late in the evening. Everyone had their vices. He himself was still having fun with tonight’s training, even if he knew he was getting slowly worn out. But it was a good worn: an accomplished and warm feeling of fulfillment.
Dean had his vices too of course; one of them his preference for fighting Seth. Which was obviously good for chemistry, but a drag when it came to management whims and PR schemes and how the company played them. He tried to be professional around Seth and not make a big deal out of it, but he knew he slipped out of character at times, feud or not. Good that his Lunatic Fringe persona gave him reason: smiling when he was supposed to be sneering was typical madness after all.
But right now they were both here and he could keep it happily going as long as Seth was willing. And it seemed Seth was having a good time too, if his current broad and shit eating grin was to be trusted. With the number of repetitions they had been through tonight, most of their series had by now been elevated from rows of single moves to smooth, high speed, loud and somewhat painful dance routines. Perfection was near and he felt the energy that had made their earlier fights such huge events, flow exhilaratingly in the air between them.
Once he had heard himself compared to a lion cub with a bloodied muzzle; playful yet undomesticated. If so, Seth was more of an Aristocat: groomed and cultured, only showing his claws and true nature when he was pouncing on the mouse. Or Dean, rather. It was the best part of the marvelous energy they got going between them: between holding back and taking precautions they could eke out the absolute maximum of artful brutality. It was an exhilarating game played by strict boundaries, where the exact keeping of the rules made the victory possible. Wrestling still felt like fun more than a chore to Dean and he swore to keep it that way as long as he possibly could.
Time to up the ante and add folding chairs to the mix, Dean concluded. Both were warm throughout and had the sharpest edge worn out of them, yet not too tired to handle the hard core moves they were needing to keep up the momentum of the fight.
Dean nodded towards Seth and moved towards the edge of the ring: wordlessly signaling that he was moving on to the next course on the menu and getting a nod in return. He took off running, first into the ropes for extra momentum, then towards Seth again; arms out signaling a threatening clothesline and then hoisted by Seth’s arms: over the ropes in an impressively high suicide dive. Which he easily countered by a rolling landing. In the real match he might aim for his opponent’s team mates or requisites in a particular set up, but this was practice: it wasn’t necessary tonight. Bray and Daniel would not have volunteered had they still been here, for certain.
For good measure, Dean lowered his brows and shouted, with enough force to be taken seriously if you hadn’t seen his face: “You’re in for it now, you backstabbing bastard! Now I’m angry for real!” before ducking below the ring.
In the real arena there would be plastic skirts around the sides of the ring, but here in the gym there were just open sides displaying a bunch of stuff in varying states of decay. Requisites damaged to a degree that made them dangerous to use were usually thrown away, but some dents in a ladder or half the legs missing of a table didn’t necessarily render them useless for training. As a result the collective storage of items was looking much like a dusty scrap heap. Dean knew this of course, and had thrown a fairly good chair on top before they started. It wouldn’t do to get hurt between matches. Seth would be pissed at him, for starters.
He was just about to grab the chair, when a patch of unusual color caught his eye and he blinked, before realized what he was looking at. He immediately leaned in and grabbed it, leaving the chair where it was. If he hadn’t had as much practice in keeping a straight, if deranged, face, he’d have buckled over with laughter, but as it was, he kept his find below the rails and straightened up again, crazed snarl in place.
“Now, Rollins, you’re really going to get it! You’ll get it so hard that you’ll see stars before I’m finished with you!”
Seth looked a little bit exasperated, as he surely had to be thinking that Dean was laying it thick, practice and all, but replied in tune: “Give it to me baby, I’ll take whatever you can throw at me and give you worse right back!”
A perfect reply, really, as Dean raised his arm and slammed, not a chair, but a hot pink, arm-long double dildo, into the mat.
Seth held his intimidating posture for about two seconds before going slack with laughter. “Oh God, Dean! I didn’t see that one coming!”
Dean was also crying with laughter by now, no way to keep his berserker grin on when Seth was as threatening as limp spaghetti.
“Tell me you planned this!” Seth hiccuped. “And please explain to me your further choreography ideas here!”
“I didn’t put that under there, promise! But I wonder who have. Bray wouldn’t have the fantasy for it, I think. Daniel? Maybe.”
“Maybe Jimmy’s been through here?” Seth was still snorting.
“That would fit, it’s his colors,” Dean snickered, “but he wouldn’t have hidden it.”
“No, he’d have flaunted that thing, for sure.”
They laughed more, grinning at each other, starting up again every time their eyes fell upon the pink abomination. It wasn’t only long, but had serious heft too. It had got to be what, at least an inch and a half thick?
“Should we get at least one round with the chair done tonight? It’ll be that much easier tomorrow. We can drop it for tonight of course, I’m still warm, but won’t be much longer.” Dean asked at last. They’d have to either call it off for tonight or continue soon.
Seth replied, sobering up: “Of course. One more time and then again tomorrow,” and waved his fingers inwards in a “get on with it” motion.
Dean ducked below again and grabbed the right item this time: the folding chair, threw it onto the mat and rolled himself after. Two long steps and he was on top of Seth again: chair a-swinging and Seth was rolling away, setting up his answering move in perfect timing.
He managed to hit Seth twice over the head before Seth had got him pinned to the mat on top of the very same chair. It hurt like heavenly hell and Seth was grinning wildly at him from an angle near Dean’s armpit. Dean had a serious ring chubby going and he couldn’t quite be bothered to knock out of the pin. It was a blissful place to be, fulfilled by a good day’s work and achingly warm and tender in every limb, yet no broken bones. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Seth’s forehead. “Thanks, Princess, I think you got me.”
Seth started to roll off, but Dean’s chubby acted much like a road block thwarting Seth’s escape, which in turn brought a groan from Dean. Seth arched his brows and turned around to see for himself, then went for the opposite route and climbed up Dean’s chest instead, dragging his own boner along Dean’s stomach. Then he reached for something above Dean’s head.
“I think we need a final showdown before we’re quite finished tonight, dear enemy,” he exclaimed while simultaneously hitting Dean over the head with heavy pink rubber.
“Ouch! That stings!” Dean replied and tried to wrestle Seth for it, but Seth just kept hitting him randomly and Dean again couldn’t be bothered to really try that hard, not with Seth’s much nicer meat boner rubbing against him like it was. A different heat kept spreading all over until Seth suddenly jumped to his knees with a: “Fuck this!”
At first Dean was at a loss, but then his trunks and jock strap were being dragged down and off entirely. That explained something at least, even if he couldn’t quite work it out just then. He blinked up at Seth, who was repositioning between Dean’s legs, and allowed his ass to be pointed up in the air while Seth yanked the chair away and showed a booted ankle in under his lower back. It had to make for an uncomfortable position, he thought, as Seth leaned forward, but Seth was just that flexible. Lucky him.
Then Seth had Dean’s dickhead between his lips, pushing forward and forward until sweaty blond curls met salt’n'pepper mustache. Dean felt like his top was going to pop off. Seth, seeing Dean’s dazed look, grinned around the base and let out again leaving saliva dripping and Dean’s mind swimming. His cock was probably salivating too and he offered no protest when Seth shoved his ass even higher up in the air: his knees spread wide on either side of his torso, and truly and thoroughly exposed. He wondered at the grunting noises he heard, only to realize they were his own, near and far, bouncing off the hard walls of the gym.
Dean was already beyond paralyzed when Seth shifted the wet cock into his hand and showed forward and lowered his head until… “Oh fuck! Oh, fuck, you’re a dirty fucker!” Not very inventive, but Seth rimmed him so good, over and around his hole and pushed in, as far as he could go, tongue probing and probing until Dean let his head fall back with a thud and shut his eyes: he just had to to concentrate on the exceptional sensation.
This of course, made him miss out on what Seth was holding in his other hand and also unprepared for the shocking girth of the dildo, as Seth put it to his asshole and started to shove in with a loud grunt of his own. Another “Oh FUCK!!!” was squeezed out of Dean, as he instinctively wanted to shove back, but he managed to force himself to keep his ass up, wildly taking whatever that Seth was dishing out. The wide rim of the dildo’s head hitched in his untrained ring muscles and he wondered for a second if this would be manageable at all. Dean wasn’t a virgin, not by far, but he certainly felt like one at that moment.
Seth looked pretty wild himself there, with a two handed hold of the dildo now, wide eyes straying between Dean’s arching brows and bulging eyes and his poundingly red and leaking cock tracking precum all over Dean’s incredibly tight and shapely abdomen.
After testing the waters for what seemed like an eternity, Seth finally seemed satisfied with the depths he was reaching and Dean was surely not complaining, even groaning and whining and bitching and swearing as the rubber fright was showed way down into him and achingly dragged out again. It made everything seem incoherent and he felt like he had to just let it play out: let Seth play him to the final note, as he had proved to do time and time again in the ring. Being a good reader of body language was really proving to be a handy skill for sex: was Dean’s last coherent thought, as Seth shifted the dildo over in one hand again and leaned forward.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m..!”
And he was: coming and coming and coming into Seth’s throat and Seth hung on to his wild bucking like he’d been training for it. Which he might, Dean had no idea, but people got up to all kinds of stuff. As demonstrated.
Seth finally let him down and eased the monstrosity out of his ass, to more loud groaning on Dean’s part. He faintly wanted to wonder how he could accept this insanity so easily, but he knew himself too well: a challenge was a challenge and his body was there to be used and abused. He also realized that there were more body parts to feel sore in than he’d ever known, and what a bliss that was too. He hadn’t felt this well fucked in – or outside – the ring, in any sense, ever before.
Seth rose to his feet and offered a hand with a wicked grin: “Get up, you damn slacker.”
Little Seth was standing at attention too, and Dean eyed it and wondered how he could return the favor. It was a favor worth returning. Even if his experience was a bit lacking at this, he was certainly willing to try new things. But Seth just turned, jumped out of the ring and headed for the locker rooms. Which left Dean, trunks, chair and dildo behind.
He threw the chair back under the mat and after some brief consideration, brought the dildo with him. The poor bastard who had left it under the ring would just have to manage without.
There was no-one by the lockers, but Dean could hear the shower running. So he peeled off the rest of his training clothes, threw them and the hurriedly washed dildo into his gym bag, before jogging over to the showers.
Where he was met by the most tantalizing sight: Seth was facing him, standing under the crossing sprays of several shower heads, slowly stroking his amazingly pretty penis. Dean didn’t know that he could cut recovery time short any more, it had to be years since he last managed to get hard again in less than ten minutes. But now it wasn’t only stirring, but actually rising to the occasion once again.
In two steps he was over in Seth’s space, grabbing Seth’s cock out of his fingers and slinging his other arm around Seth’s shoulders. He pressed in as close as he could get and sucked Seth’s lips in an intense kiss. Had he remembered to use tongue he would have, but lacking experience, remember? No ingrained reflexes in his repertoire any more, just winging it like a youngster and with agreeable results too, to his mind, as Seth groaned, leaned into him and hugged back with both arms. One hand placed notably close to Dean’s aching asshole too. The result was great all around.
Coherent thoughts had somehow managed to resurface in Dean’s mind after he came, which was good since Seth looked to be out of schemes for the moment: content with rubbing into Dean’s body and getting roughly wanked by Dean’s strong hand. But Dean had figured out a truly great idea and didn’t waste one minute setting it into action, fully hard as he was by now and so very ready. God, he loved being this fit!
Consequently he drove Seth backwards, shifted his grip to spread Seth’s thighs wide and hoisted him upwards against the wet, tiled wall. Seth boggled at him, but moved along, until he was shaped fairly into an u and Dean had his crotch up at head level. Dean tried to get his nose all snuggled into Seth’s pubes like Seth had done with him, but it was impossible, be it from the angle or his now somewhat irritating lack of experience, but rimming; that turned out to be a breeze.
Seth whined. He had a a frantic grip on the water pipes above his head and hips and waist securely fastened in Dean’s sturdy arms; his thighs fluttering wildly around Dean’s ears as Dean dipped in and eased out, licked around and dipped in deep again.
Goddamn, this was nice! Dean hummed and pressed in again as far as his tongue could reach and Seth squealed like a girl, threatening to pop Dean’s eardrums with begging alone. Dean could just go on and on, but Seth was starting to sound really agitated up there.
One look above hairy balls revealed a near crying Seth above a just as pitiful purpled cock head. Good that Dean was such a kind and merciful guy. He just had to make the tinyest little taunt first: “Can I help you with something, beautiful?”
“You got to let me come! Are you deaf, you big oaf? I can’t stand any more! Fuck you, Dean, you are torturing me!”
Dean was sure that Seth was going for threatening, but he was so pretty at that moment that Dean went soft around the heart strings. “Aw, baby, shsss, I promise, just let me …”
So he lowered Seth carefully down and Seth let go of the pipes (which looked a little bent out of shape, much like Dean himself) and soon they were both on the floor, Seth on his back and Dean hovering over him, gasping as he positioned his cock right over Seth’s – goddamn, so pretty – pink and rosy asshole.
Seth gasped back, “Oh yes, Jesus, do it, oh God!” and Dean sunk in, sunk and sunk into that perfectly velvety tight heat, blood pounding in his head and crotch so hard he momentarily blacked out, only to come back when Seth used his incredible physique to grind up into him, pushing Dean’s cock a few more unbelievable millimeters IN.
“Oh, goddammit, oh goddamn!” He stuttered and Seth whined and Dean realized that it was his move and move he did.
He rolled out and pushed in again until he got a rhythm going and then he just upped and upped the speed and the pressure and how wonderful Seth took it, rolling with him, gasping and drooling and shaking his wet hair about and whimpered incoherent words with traces of “Dean, Dean, Dean” sprinkled throughout. Dean could do this all night.
But of course, it was already late, his body was going to hate him in the morning and Seth seemed ready to explode, so he raised Seth’s hips even further in the air to really lay it into him; gripped Seth’s cock and bent forward when Seth’s balls started to visibly rise and his hips started to stutter, and drove his tongue deep in between those gasping lips. Rewarding sperm immediately pumped fast and hot past his fingers and onto their chests, throats and chins and he came himself, deep and perfect inside Seth’s body.
“Goddamn, you taste good!” he managed to wheeze while his dick slipped out of Seth’s still twitching asshole. Seth didn’t reply, just wiggled his brows at him and let his cramped limbs flop down in the water running all around them.
It was Dean’s turn to offer a hand and Seth accepted it. Also the tug into the spray afterwards, letting himself lean against Dean while they both caught their breaths and enjoyed skin against skin as the afterglow rolled through them.
Finally Seth smacked a kiss on Dean’s cheek: “You don’t taste too bad yourself.” He got a grin in answer, and stretched for the shampoo bottle on the floor. Dean certainly enjoyed the view, but couldn’t be assed to do anything more than admire it. He was just too sluggish, too well beaten, battered and fucked for one night.
Later, after they had washed and dried and dressed slowly, oh so slowly, Seth leaned against the door, waiting for Dean to tie his sneakers, and asked: “Wanna come back to my place? Not for more fucking, I’m totally worn out, but…” He looked a little wobbly around the corners of his mouth and seemed to know it, as he followed up with: “I’m not trying to make a thing out of this, but I did have a good time tonight. So if you should happen to want to hang out a bit, no strings attached, I’d like that too. I even think I have a pack of low-cal beer sitting around in the fridge.” It was said in his softer voice too, not the purposely rough & low promo voice he used when he wanted to impress.
Dean, beside being a master cuddler, had no one waiting for him at home tonight. And more importantly: he had yet to learn to let down a challenge. So he coughed and looked coyly down before stating with his best wild glare and promo voice: “Show me your worst!” – which made Seth snicker all the way to the taxi.