We're Finally Home (Shawnter)
Paring: Triple H/Shawn Michaels
Summary: Shawn and Hunter have been together for years, but due to the circumstances of their job they've been forced to keep it a secret. During Triple H's solo induction to the WWE Hall of Fame Hunter decides to show the world to whom Shawn Michaels truly belongs to.
NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Tags: Fluff and Smut; Established Relationship; Coming Out; Old Married Couple; Old man yao; iBlow Jobs; Anal Sex; Creampie; Top Triple H; Bottom Shawn Michaels; Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Notes: As you can notice from the setting this has been in the works since last year's HOF, but it's finally done and just in time for Shawn's birthday. So Happy Birthday Shawn!!!! English is not my first language and I'm dyslexic af, so feel free to correct anything. Comments are always welcome.
Word Count: 2,865
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Shawn had just finished his induction speech for Hunter. He was extremely proud of his husband for finally getting his solo induction to the Hall of Fame, but a part of him was quite sad about the fact that they still had to keep their relationship a secret. One would think that after so many years of hiding it, it would’ve gotten easier, but it was quite the opposite.
Although society grew more accepting of same sex couples, management wouldn’t allow them to go public with their relationship. First it was Vince and his insistence in maintaining ‘kayfabe’, he constantly told them it would confuse the viewers because Hunter had an on screen relationship with Steph. Now it was the board, especially TKO, who claimed that it would alienate part of their viewers, and therefore it would be bad for business.
So Shawn wrote his speech and changed every reference to his and Hunter’s real relationship into friendship, the words “husband” and “lover” were changed to “best friend”. Their true love for each other masked into nothing more than a friendship, a powerful one, sure, but still not the truth.
When Hunter’s music hit Shawn was overcome with a mix of emotions, still as he heard the first few cords of the song he felt relief. Hunter’s theme was probably the one song you never wanted to hear while you were standing at a WWE stage, but for Shawn it had always represented something else, it meant that the love of his life was there, that his safety net was right below him in case he fell. Even when they were supposed to hate each other, Shawn couldn’t help but swell with happiness as the song played.
As the final chords of his theme music faded, Hunter didn't walk straight to the podium. Instead, he stopped right in front of Shawn. The crowd was already cheering, expecting the usual DX antics, the playful jokes they had shared for decades.
Hunter reached out, his large hand cupping the back of Shawn’s neck, his thumb brushing against Shawn's hairline just beneath his cowboy hat. Shawn looked up, expecting a quick, performative peck on the cheek or lips, the kind they used to tease the crowd with to get a reaction.
But when Hunter leaned in, it wasn’t a joke. It wasn't a quick play for the cameras.
Hunter pressed his lips firmly against Shawn’s, deep and lingering, holding him in place with a possessive intensity that made Shawn’s breath catch in his throat. It lasted too long to be a DX stunt. The arena's cheers faltered for a second, replaced by a wave of confused, sudden whispers as the camera caught every detail of the raw emotion on their faces.
When Hunter finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with a lifetime of unspoken promises. He didn't let go of Shawn's neck right away.
He then walked to the podium speaking right into the microphone, while Shawn was still standing in the same place in shock. Hunter’s voice boomed through the entire room as he spoke.
"For thirty years, you all watched us out here. You laughed when we pushed the boundaries, you cheered when we kissed on screen, and you thought it was just an act. You thought it was DX being controversial," Hunter said, his voice steady, sending a shockwave through the corporate executives watching backstage.
He looked at Shawn, whose eyes were wide with a mix of terror and overwhelming love.
"But tonight, I want to clear something up," Hunter continued, a proud, defiant smile touching his lips. "Those kisses were never a joke. They were never a storyline. They were the only moments in this ring where I was allowed to show the world the truth. Every single one of them was real. And it’s time everyone knows that the man standing in front of me isn’t just my best friend. He is my husband."
Shawn practically fled the stage, leaving Hunter on stage to finish the rest of his speech. His boots clicked loudly against the concrete floor of the hotel corridors, his mind spinning so fast he could barely breathe. He ignored the stunned stares of the production crew and the referees. He needed to be in a closed room. Now.
The moment he slammed the door of Hunter's private dressing room behind him, the silence hit him like a wall.
Shawn tore off his cowboy hat, tossing it onto the leather couch, and immediately began pacing from one side of the room to the other. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He was shocked. He was furious. But underneath the terror, a terrifying wave of relief was trying to break through, and that only made him more anxious.
Twenty minutes later, the heavy electronic lock clicked. Hunter walked in. He looked completely unbothered, loosening his silk tie with one hand while closing the door with the other.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Shawn exploded before Hunter could even take a full step into the room. He stopped his pacing, pointing an accusing finger at his husband. "What the hell was that, Hunter? What did you just do out there?!"
Hunter didn't answer right away. He just leaned his large frame against the door, a faint, incredibly soft smile playing on his lips as he watched Shawn.
"Don't you look at me like that!" Shawn snapped, his voice cracking slightly with pure adrenaline. "TKO is going to lose their minds! They explicitly told us no. The board is going to have your head on a spike by tomorrow morning! We could get fired, Hunter! Do you understand that? Fired! Blacklisted from the very company we helped build! They can erase us from history if they want to!"
Shawn started pacing again, his hands moving wildly as he laid out every single nightmare scenario. "And you didn't even tell me! For twenty-five years we protect this, we protect us, and you just blow it all up on a whim? You should’ve talked to me! You should’ve asked me if I was ready to face the fallout of…"
"Shawn."
Hunter’s deep voice cut through the room. He didn't sound angry or defensive; he sounded completely at peace.
He crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between them. Shawn stopped talking, his chest heaving as he stared up at his husband, his eyes wide and defensive. Hunter didn't say another word. He simply reached out, his large, warm hands coming up to cradle Shawn's face, his thumbs wiping away a stray tear Shawn hadn't even realized had fallen.
"Let them try to erase us," Hunter whispered, his smile widening just a fraction as he looked down at the love of his life. "Let's see them try to run a WrestleMania without us."
Hunter didn’t give him a chance to overthink. He leaned down and captured Shawn’s lips in a kiss so deep, fierce, and dripping with raw passion that all the corporate anxiety in Shawn’s mind instantly evaporated. Shawn groaned into the kiss, his hands instinctively flying to Hunter’s shoulders, gripping the expensive fabric of his suit jacket as he kissed his husband back with everything he had.
Shawn tried to look stern when they finally broke apart for air, their foreheads rested against each other, both breathing heavily, but his eyes were dark with desire.
"I’m still angry at you," Shawn whispered, his voice trembling slightly, trying to hold onto his remaining defenses.
Hunter’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, his hands sliding down to Shawn's waist. "Of course you are, sweetheart."
Shawn pulled back, taking Hunter by the hand and leading him over to the leather couch. He pushed Hunter down onto the cushions, stepping back just enough to strip off his own vest and loosen his shirt.
"Strip!" Shawn said, his voice sharp and commanding. Hunter did as his husband wished, taking off his shirt and laying bare on the couch, with a relaxed pose, his arms crossed behind his head.
Shawn got on top of him, moving with deliberate slowness, his actions designed to keep Hunter suspended in a state of restless anticipation. Every touch was light, every movement calculated to maintain his position of power. He followed the lines of Hunter's chest with a focused intensity, relishing the way he could make the usually composed man lose his breath.
Shawn kissed his husband's right peck, then took his nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly causing Hunter to groan. Then he moved to his left peck, once again Shawn kissed it, very careful not to disturb the pacemaker, whispering "Thank you, for keeping him safe" to the machine.
Hunter’s chest heaved, his heart hammering right beneath the skin Shawn had just revered, entirely undone by the depth of his husband’s love. But Shawn wasn't done torturing him yet.
Shawn smirked, sliding his body down along Hunter's length, pushing Hunter's trousers down to fully expose him. Hunter’s hips twitched upward in anticipation, but Shawn placed a firm, warning hand on his thigh.
"Don't move," Shawn whispered against his skin. "You just lay there."
Shawn lowered his head, finally taking him into his mouth. He started with agonizing slowness, taking in just the tip, swirling his tongue around the head until Hunter let out a ragged, low growl. Shawn looked up through his lashes, his eyes locked onto his husband’s face, enjoying every twitch of Hunter's jaw.
He didn't take him all at once. Instead, Shawn used a devastating combination of deep, wet strokes followed by sudden, cruel withdrawals. He would slide down, letting Hunter feel the warm contrast of his throat, but just as Hunter’s hips began to instinctively lift from the couch to find a rhythm, Shawn would pull completely away. He would leave Hunter glistening and cold in the dressing room air, smirking as he trailed a wet finger down the length instead.
The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the wet, rhythmic sounds of Shawn’s mouth and the ragged edge of Hunter’s breathing. Shawn hummed against him, the vibration sending a jolt straight to Hunter’s hips. He sucked with a firm, relentless pressure, his hand wrapping around the base to restrict him, controlling the pace so perfectly that Hunter was completely off-balance, suspended on a knife-edge of pure frustration.
Hunter’s knuckles turned white as his large hands gripped the leather edges of the couch, his entire body tense, trembling from the prolonged anticipation. He wanted to thrust, he wanted to take what he needed, but every time his muscles flexed, Shawn would stop entirely, staring him down with that cold, challenging gaze until Hunter forced his hips back down.
Knowing he had pushed Hunter to the absolute brink, Shawn took him deep one last time, swirling his tongue aggressively before pulling away with a soft, deliberate pop. He crawled back up Hunter’s body, leaning in for a wet, breathless kiss to allow Hunter to taste himself on Shawn’s lips.
That was the opening Hunter had been waiting for. Driven past his limit by the relentless teasing, Hunter's restraint completely shattered.
With a sudden, fluid burst of movement, Hunter regained the initiative. He reached out, his massive hands locking around Shawn's waist, and in one agile motion, he flipped them over on the couch.
The transition from control to raw urgency was instantaneous. Hunter didn't waste time trying to match Shawn’s slow, calculated torture; he didn't have the luxury of patience anymore. Their bodies weren't thirty anymore, they were older, weathered by decades of physical abuse in the ring, their skin bearing the permanent maps of scars, surgeries, and time. They didn’t have the stamina for hours of endless rounds, and they both knew it.
Hunter immediately hooked Shawn’s knees, pulling his pants off and pushing his legs wide over the leather armrest of the couch.
"Look at you," Hunter growled, his voice thick and rough as his eyes scanned Shawn's body. Shawn’s abs were still remarkably defined, a testament to his strict discipline, but his skin was softer now, beautifully mature, and dusted with silver-flecked body hair. Hunter leaned down, the rough texture of his thick beard scraping against Shawn’s skin, making Shawn shiver. "Fucking beautiful. You’re still the most beautiful thing in this entire industry, Shawn. My perfect husband."
"Hunter, please..." Shawn gasped, his fingers immediately clawing into the muscles of Hunter’s back. The adrenaline from his backstage lecture was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, heavy ache between his thighs. "Don't tease me. Just... I need you."
"I've got you, sweetheart. I've always got you," Hunter murmured, quickly holding Shawn’s hand, his thumb rubbing over the gold wedding band on Shawn's finger before he quickly grabbed a bottle of lube from the dressing room drawer. He prepped them both with frantic, wet strokes, his breath hot against Shawn’s neck. He wasn't gentle, but he was incredibly thorough, his large fingers stretching Shawn open just enough to ensure he wouldn't hurt him.
Shawn arched his back, a breathless sob escaping his lips as he felt the heavy weight of Hunter’s massive frame settling fully between his thighs. He looked up, his vision slightly blurred, taking in the sight of his husband, the broader waist, the heavy chest, the silver in his beard, and those dark, fiercely possessive eyes that had looked at him the same way for thirty years.
"Take it, Shawn. Open up for me, baby," Hunter whispered, a heavy command wrapped in pure worship.
With one deliberate, powerful thrust, Hunter buried himself inside his husband.
Shawn’s eyes rolled back as a loud, undone cry ripped from his throat, his hands tightly gripping Hunter’s broad shoulders. The sheer fullness of it was overwhelming, sometimes Shawn felt Hunter had gotten bigger with age, girthier.
Hunter let out a deep, guttural groan, freezing for a second as his muscles clenched, absorbing the intense, tight heat of Shawn wrapping around him.
"God, you feel so good," Hunter panted, his hips beginning a heavy, punishingly deep rhythm. Each stroke was deliberate, a brutal mix of age-defying strength and desperate affection. "You grip me so perfectly. Still mine. Every single bit of you is mine, and now the whole world knows it."
Shawn couldn't even form words anymore. He could only nod, his hips instinctively moving to meet each of Hunter’s deep thrusts, the slaps of their skin echoing sharply in the quiet room. His older body was pliant, completely surrendered to the man who had just risked their entire corporate legacy just to call him husband in front of millions.
The heat in the room surged to an unbearable peak as Hunter increased the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, and desperate. They were both running on pure adrenaline and decades of pent-up restraint, their bodies nearing their absolute limits. Shawn’s chest was slick with sweat, his breath hitching with every heavy hit against the leather of the couch.
"Hunter... Hunter, I'm close," Shawn cried out, his voice cracking as he arched his back, his fingers digging so deeply into Hunter's shoulders that his nails left red crescents on his skin. "I can't... please..."
Hunter growled, a primal, fiercely possessive sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. He didn't slow down. Instead, he leaned all his massive weight over Shawn, pinning his arms above his head and burying his face into the crook of Shawn’s neck.
As his own climax rushed over him like a tidal wave, Hunter bit down on the soft skin right above Shawn's collarbone. He sucked and nipped with an intense, unyielding pressure, deliberately leaving a dark, unmistakable mark. For twenty-five years, they had been so careful, checking each other in the mirror, using makeup to cover any trace of their intimacy before going live on television. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, every camera backstage and every fan on the internet would see exactly who Shawn belonged to.
With a final, shattering thrust, Hunter let out a loud, undone groan, completely losing his composure as he came deep inside his husband.
Shawn screamed into the empty locker room, his own release spilling over their stomachs as the intense, white-hot friction of Hunter filling him sent his body into helpless spasms. The sensation of Hunter releasing inside him, hot and completely unrestricted, was overwhelming.
For a long time, the only sound in the room was the ragged, desperate panting of two men completely spent. Hunter collapsed forward, heavy and exhausted, burying his face in Shawn’s neck, his body still twitching slightly as the aftershocks subsided.
Shawn’s arms slowly came around Hunter’s broad back, holding him tightly. His throat was raw, his body throbbed, and his neck stung where Hunter had marked him, but as he looked up at the ceiling of the locker room, the overwhelming terror of the TKO board completely dissolved.
Hunter lifted his head, his dark eyes soft and vulnerable as he looked down at his husband. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against Shawn's lips, savoring the reality of their newly conquered freedom.
"They can't touch us anymore," Hunter whispered, his thumb gently tracing the fresh mark on Shawn's neck. "We're finally home."
