Strapped Up
Pairing: Dean Ambrose x AJ Styles
Summary: AJ’s just wrestled his match with Finn at this year’s TLC and his dance belt has been rubbing him a certain way since he got into his gear. He thinks Dean might be able to help him out…
Notes: I have never written Dean before, so I just based him on how goading and sassy he was to AJ during their programme last year. The WWE Live in Manchester (November 2016) mentioned near the start of this fic was one I was lucky enough to go to – AJ’s gear was SO LOOSE that night (like this). Btw, here is the evidence of AJ’s slutty black dance belt at TLC this year.
Warnings: SMUT, and a bit of nasty talk, humiliation, and roughness. And maybe typos. And if you’re too young to read this and I tagged you by a mistake, please skip it and pretend it never happened.
Also: There are some AMAZING AJ/Dean fics on AO3, particularly by @cruxcantare and @scriptor (oh, and ‘Soft Styles’ – WOW). If you haven’t read them yet, you should.
Tagging (peeps who’ve been nice to me about my shit-fics before/or who said they wouldn’t mind reading this one. But please do just scroll on by if it’s not your thing): @llowkeys @castielscamander @unabashedwwesmut @scriptor @omegaweaponx @toosweetme @shoo-chan @casualgoldenribbon @roaring-storm @blacknovafox @im-tops-bottom @thereluctantguardian @stilinskiimnotahero @samizaayn @cruxcantare @bigpixiefoot @athoughtfulmindwrites @the-geekgoddes @your-darkdiva @secretagentfangirl @deanammbrose @idle-vanity @wrestlingbabe @tvrnbvckle @kingslayers-angel @wweshesaro @violas87
Strapped Up
“Great work out there, AJ!”
“Thanks, man.”
“What a match, dude, seriously.”
“Means a lot, thanks.”
“You guys tore it up!”
“Well, we sure tried to.”
So many congratulations as he stumbles backstage after his match with Finn, feeling like hammered shit after all the throwing up he’d been doing with the stomach bug, then the last-minute flight to get here, then scrambling to get the match planned out and publicised in time. But he doesn’t care about the gushing plaudits he’s getting from the crew for pulling it off, or the pats on his back and the handshakes from his peers. There’s just one person his eyes are searching for right now. He needs him, bad. Dean.
AJ’s in pain from the bumps and slaps he’s just taken, and so worn down. He should have hung back to celebrate with Finn and tell him how great it was to work with him, but… he can’t be around normal people, acting like a normal person. Not when he’s feeling like this. He’s like a raw nerve, exposed and hurting, and he needs what Dean can do with that. Because his body is beyond tired. It’s nervous, and wanting too, and can he even do this? He doesn’t want to – or rather, his mind doesn’t want him to do this. It’s not him, to want this so bad. But the feeling that’s been building in his body since he strapped himself into his ring gear earlier tonight tells him he can do it; he should try it. Push himself, and goad Dean into pushing him even further.
God, when did he turn into this; such a slut? Stalking around backstage, looking for dick? Looking to beg for it?
No, he won’t beg. He’ll just… he’ll just offer what he’s got. And, maybe Dean will go for it. Maybe Dean will laugh at him. Or, maybe he’ll punish him for offering this up the way he’s been wanting to.
Humiliation or punishment – either is good right now.
Since being asked to fly back from the overseas tour to do TLC again, AJ’d been paranoid about another gear rip. People make fun of him for his stupid beliefs and superstitions, but he keeps to them, pays attention to them and does what he can to stop things from happening that he can’t plan for. But, he’d sure tempted fate tonight by wearing the back-up ring gear from last year’s TLC match with Dean, hadn’t he?
He’s been thinking about that. Did he want it to rip again? Did he want to show himself off some more?
Maybe.
Maybe he really is a slut.
Okay. He was maybe hoping for another rip. Wanting it. Planning for the possibility. He’d even prepared by wearing an athletic support underneath his blue lycra; a black dance belt, just in case. The audience would see flesh if there was another tear in the seat, but nothing more than that. Maybe AJ’s a little immodest, but he’s not stupid enough to get himself fired.
Usually, he avoids wearing compression gear whenever he can, though. He’s been doing it for years. The reason he gives is that he hates wearing it underneath his tights; that he can’t focus or move the way he wants with that holding him in, all strapped up. But that’s not strictly true… Deep down, if he’s honest, he likes having what he’s got out on display in a way he can get away with. It feels good. He’s only been able to get away with it at house shows for a while now. No TV cameras to catch it at those. No one from the production team pressing dance belts, jockstraps, or thongs into his hands as he heads to the locker room to change. No one to tell him to strap it down and keep it neat and Ken-doll-firm in front.
House shows have always been his favourite.
And Dean had known why. He’d figured it out when everyone else just thought a dislike of compression gear was one of AJ’s odd quirks, that he’s such a dumb dad-type he doesn’t realise how it looks. Like, maybe he’s completely oblivious to everyone staring at his cock and balls moving around loose in his ring gear, how his dick starts to stiffen up when he takes a particularly hard hit.
How stupid do they think he is?
But Dean knew.
“Like everyone seeing what you’ve got for ‘em, huh?” he’d murmured into AJ’s ear one night in Manchester as they walked back through the curtain after a match, back when they were still on the same brand. They’d been getting on okay during their programme through No Mercy, but he’d never quite been able to figure out Dean’s rhythms – in the ring and outside of it. Dean didn’t seem to think that much of him. Probably thought he was boring.
AJ wasn’t used to the sudden familiarity; outside of scripts, him and Dean didn’t talk much.
“What was that?”
“You like them looking at it, don’t you, what you’ve got in your tights?” Dean’d said in a stage-whisper, prickling AJ’s skin in shock. He’d walked around to stand in front of him then and had just… looked. Down between AJ’s legs, right at it. Looked for a good long time while AJ flushed in anger and disbelief.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he’d managed to whisper, torn between the urge to break Dean’s nose, cover himself with his hands, or stumble off, all at the same time.
Dean, in comparison, was unconcerned about the warning in AJ’s voice; body loose and relaxed. Just like their in-ring personas – not impressed with AJ’s attempts to intimidate him at all.
“I’m just giving you more of what you like, aren’t I?” he’d asked matter-of-factly, looking like he’d decided to start having some fun with the other man. Eyes sharp with curiosity and growing interest.
“I have no idea what you mean, but I’m about to break your freakin’ face if you keep it up.”
“Think about me looking at it when you’re playing with it later, if you want,” had been murmured back, sending a shot of pure humiliation through AJ.
“And that’s a lot to play with, huh?“ Dean had continued confidently, stepping closer to look some more, making AJ heat up where he was staring, making his heart speed up in panic. If anyone had walked past, they wouldn’t be able to hear what Dean was saying, him pitching his voice low and just for AJ’s embarrassment.
“I sure do love looking at what you’ve got down there in front, boy… Yeah… made a whole bunch of babies with it, huh? I sure hope your ex knew how lucky she was to have access to that thing.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” AJ’d finally been able to hiss through his humiliation with a hard shove against the taller man’s chest, still so hurt from the divorce.
Dean just stumbled back and laughed.
“You won’t stand for it, huh?” Dean’d sniggered. “But, you are,” he’d tutted, crowding close again. “You’re standin’ pretty still to let me get a good look, aren’t ya? Yeah… because you like that,” Dean said in a sing-song voice, swiping his tongue over his own bottom lip. He’d stopped to look into AJ’s eyes again then, as if gauging how he was feeling, maybe judge how far he could go. Seeing AJ wasn’t having as much fun, he let out a breath, regretful. Adjusting.
“Ah, hey… man, I’m, uh, sorry about your wife. Shouldn’t have said that. Was mean.”
AJ had only been able to manage a weak and confused, “It’s okay… forget it…”. Shifting on his feet, messing with the Velcro on his gloves, he’d tried to calm himself enough to walk back to the locker room without cowering, not show how rattled he was by the ribbing. Hoped the other man would leave first.
Dean’d reached to stroke a strand of hair out of AJ’s face, earning another shove away in response.
He’d smirked, eyes twinkling. “Hmm. I knew I was right about you, though,” he said with a shake of his finger, looking down once more, just as a reminder that he could and that AJ wouldn’t stop him. And he hadn’t.
“You better hope I don’t tell anyone what you’re up to, sweetheart,” Dean said with a small smirk as he’d walked away backwards, almost bouncing on his heels. “See you in the showers…”
AJ had been so excited and scared by the interaction he’d left the arena as soon as possible, sweaty and terrified.
He’d tried to avoid Dean outside of the ring after that. Decided not to think about why he hadn’t punched him, why he’d let him look. Tried to get used to compression gear for a while, too. Had to put up with being touched slightly too much, Dean taking liberties with what was appropriate when the cameras were on. Could be played off as a joke then; patting AJ’s legs down, putting his fingers slightly too high up on his inner thigh. Just straight-up laying on top of him for pins, too. Humiliating him in front of everyone, laughing about it. Them sneaking into each other’s rooms after house shows had been instigated by AJ soon after last year’s TLC – him going to Dean for a fight, but ending up being pinned to the bed with Dean’s hands in his hair and their mouths and tongues pushing sloppy against each other.
Every night they came together after that was a negotiation through AJ’s stubbornness – Dean pushing and AJ resisting at every step. Pretending to himself he hadn’t come to Dean’s room to be persuaded further along each time.
“I’m not kissing again, I don’t like it”
“Don’t pull my hair like that”
“I’ll jerk you off, but I won’t put it in my mouth”
“I’ll suck it, but warn me before you’re gonna finish, okay?”
“You can shoot in my mouth, but let me spit it out”
“I won’t do that; no way”
“I told you – I’m not doing anal. Ever”
“Just fingers, but promise me you’ll take them out straight away if I say I don’t like it”
“Don’t ever tell anyone I let you”
The first time AJ had let Dean fuck him had been one of the most confusing sexual experiences of his life. He’d let Dean put his fingers inside him after weeks of coaxing and pushing from the other man, enduring the sickening internal stretch, the feeling of a barrier breaking, while Dean had kept his tongue firmly in AJ’s mouth to take his mind off of what was happening, desperate to stop him backing out. He’d gritted his teeth through Dean working his cock inside of him, lying on his back with his legs spread wide to make way for Dean’s hips; wanting sex, desperate to fuck, willing to stand the discomfort just to cum again that night.
Dean promised he’d like it once they got going, that it would stop feeling so unnatural and he’d rock his world. And it’d made AJ cum alright, him tipping quickly over into a grunting orgasm with Dean’s hand on his dick and a jabbing thrust against something good deep inside. So raw and intense a feeling, not quite registering as pleasure at all.
He’d felt hollow and almost sick after Dean had pulled out, afraid to move in case his insides wouldn’t stay where they should, face wet. He thought his body would never go back to how it was before – that he’d never feel whole and unbroken again. Dean had mockingly cooed over him while he stewed on it, stroking AJ’s chest and hips and looking so smug to have broken the other man down to the kind of sex he’d thought he’d have never said yes to just a month before.
“Pretty good huh, champ? Let me cum inside you next time, you’ll like it.”
“I’m not doin’ that ever again.”
“Sure, darlin’,” Dean’d said with a lazy smirk, flopping over onto his back, dick still half-hard. “And when I met ya, you were a happily-married man with kids who’d never taken a load. But here you are, covered in mine. We’ll see.”
AJ had done it again. Sneaking back to Dean a few weeks later with no words – and again, Dean had known. The second time, AJ’d been fucked on his knees like a dog, stuffing the corner of the hotel duvet into his mouth and grunting and growling through it. Focusing on the push in and pull out, the give of his body’s interior muscle. Feeling himself clenching and trying to expel Dean as he hit his peak, shooting streams of pearly white onto the bed underneath, helpless to stop it, so turned on. Hot and ruined inside, he’d spit the wet material out of his mouth and pushed his flushed face against the bed while Dean had pulled out to finish on his back, whispering disgusting, humiliating things AJ could barely stand to hear.
He hadn’t liked it, he hadn’t wanted it. Like and want are the wrong words.
That’s where the shake-up had stopped it. Them being split across two different brands meant no more negotiating and no more confusion, just AJ left alone with an unfinished, dead feeling. He always wondered if anyone could tell he was different inside – had anyone picked up on what AJ had let Dean do?
He’s still frightened for people to figure it out; that’s always with him. But it’s not enough to stop him from asking where he can find more.
“Hey, hey – Arn!” he quickly stops the other man with a yell, stopping him from rushing past in the busy corridor. He’ll know where Dean is before his match.
“Well, hey there, AJ – good job, son. Not heading back to your locker room? You’re going in the wrong direction…”
“Looking for Seth before he goes out there, you seen ‘im?” He won’t ask for Dean.
“Their locker’s down there, to your left – Jason’s match got cut a little; got about 20 minutes ‘til they go out there.”
AJ gives a nod and a grateful smile, pulling the dance belt up over his ring gear slightly as he walks faster, feeling it splitting him apart even further in the back, with nobody around him noticing, too busy to care. If he’d worn a jock, maybe he wouldn’t want this so bad. Every move he’d made in that ring just now had made the strap rub between his cheeks, making him so aware of that part of his body, hot right where Dean had opened him up and fucked into him all those months ago.
But he hadn’t worn a jock – he’d chosen a dance belt. Maybe he’d planned for this, too.
As he turns left; there Dean is, walking down the corridor towards him with Seth. Dean looks so different – already in his Shield gear, and looking down at his hands to unwrap a piece of candy. Popping it in his mouth, dropping the wrapper on the floor and mumbling something, laughing. AJ feels the old irritation towards the other man flare up as well as shame for what he wants, and what he’s going to do to get it. He feels light-headed with it, so excited.
Taking a breath and turning towards the wall, he leans forward and down to adjust a kneepad, slowly, deliberately. His pulse and breathing speed up at what he’s doing, putting himself on display like this. He can feel the sweat-damp lycra of his gear stretch around the muscle of this legs, so tight, and the strap of the dance belt riding up over his gear even further in the back – it feels so good, so slutty and not like him at all to pay attention to this feeling instead of pushing it away and walking it off. He closes his eyes in panic and wishing, trying not to shake with the embarrassment he’s fighting, trying not to get hard yet.
You can do this, you can do it. Just make him look; he’ll give you what you need. You need it so bad. He’ll know what you’re doing – he knows what a slut you are.
He’ll help you; he’ll do it like you want.
He hears Seth and Dean approach, and Dean’s distinctive shuffle stop, so he pulls himself up again and flicks his wet hair back, reaching his arms up against the wall in a stretch, curving his lower back out with a grunt of exertion. He can’t help but give a satisfied grimace to himself underneath the hair covering his face, feeling nasty and good; waiting.
“What’s this?” he hears Dean slur around the candy in his mouth. He’s suddenly snagged by the white and blue belt of his tights and tugged backwards, flush against the other man’s body.
“Goddang it, Dean-” AJ huffs, not expecting to be grabbed so quickly or so rough.
Dean gazes down at him, holding firm onto the belt, making AJ stand still. He looks calm but delighted, while AJ’s body starts to tingle at his proximity, remembering. “Good match out there, sweetheart,” Dean rumbles with a smile fighting at his mouth. “We’re gonna see if we can out-do you, though.”
“Get the hell offa me, Dean,” AJ forces out, slapping at Dean’s hand to make him let go. Even though AJ wants to be pushed around, he has to fight it a little. Just for his own pride. What’s left of it, at least. And Dean knows, raising his eyebrows and looking amused.
“Okay, darlin’; okay. Hmm, nice dance belt – wearing it a bit high, ain’t ya? Tribute to Lita?” he says, turning AJ by his shoulders so he can dig fingers underneath the black elastic and snap it against AJ’s lower back, making him curse and push him away. Dean just reaches forward again to tweak his left nipple with a laugh, earning another shove and curse. Seth stands next to this with his arms crossed, tutting and rolling his eyes at what he’s seeing.
AJ grits his teeth and tries to stop his voice shaking. “Don’t mess with me in front of everyone, Dean; I’m not in the goddamn mood-“
“So you’re in the mood to be messed with in private?” Dean interrupts, pulling the elastic even higher to make AJ hiss and try to reach back to cuff his hands away. Dean just grabs at the strap snaking between his cheeks, pulling that too, like a leash.
“Fuck-“
“Shh – don’t struggle, handsome,” Dean growls down into AJ’s ear through his sweated-out hair, making him shudder. “I’ll find a place where I can rip this right offa ya, sound good?” Dean picks up on the effect he’s having on AJ’s body – AJ can feel it, the satisfaction.
Dean breathes into his ear some more and hisses, quieter, “Or, maybe you want to keep it on while I fuck you? Does it feel good, feel tight against the right places?”
AJ wishes Seth at least looked a little shocked to see him – AJ – shaking with Dean pulling at his underwear and whispering into his hair, making his dick thicken up in his damp tights. Seth just seems irritated by the inconvenience, hardly looking at him at all.
Dean pulls his mouth away from his ear but keeps hold of the elastic. “Hey Seth, buddy – how long me’n this slut here got?”
“Don’t you call me tha-“
Seth sighs, dark eyes angry. “Less than 15 minutes, you jackass.”
“Hey, don’t be like that – I’ve gotta teach this little whore a lesson about walking around with his thong pulled up at the back; don’t I, pretty man?” he says down to AJ, tugging at the elastic again and making AJ growl in irritation. He turns back to Seth, unconcerned.
“Give us a two minute warning, huh? Let me pull my dick out of this guy in time to go out there,” he says down at AJ, shaking him by the grip he’s got on his underwear, earning a seething look up through messy hair.
Seth is disgusted, shaking his head. “Goddammit, Dean.”
“Thanks, bud. See, AJ,” He says in a loud whisper to the shorter man, roughly dragging him by the elastic back towards The Shield’s empty locker room, making him stumble. “Seth knows you need the lesson, too.”
***
“Advertising yourself to all the crew now, huh? Walking around like that, showing off how much you like that thong stuck up your ass. You lookin’ to get that slutty hole pounded by the whole ring crew against an equipment truck out back? That what you want, huh? Remind you of the trailer park?”
AJ’s stomach roils and he shifts on his feet at the humiliation of that, Dean using the poverty of his childhood for this. How dare he.
He fights to keep still.
“My, my, my,” Dean continues in a disapproving voice, “just look what happens when you haven’t been getting what you need”.
AJ’s panting against the wall in front of him, gloved hands up against the tile either side of his face. Dean’s made him stand slightly bent over, black elastic still stretched up over his gear, now undone and loose at the front. He wants to curl himself up against the cool tile and hide, so exposed. But there’s a dark satisfied feeling deep in his guts as well to be getting what he wants. He needs this. He’s needed it for months now.
Dean’s pacing back and forth just behind him, calmly talking.
“Someone’s misbehaving, seems to me. You’ll be punished for this – can’t have you showing yourself off like a piece of meat, can I? Everyone can already see what a whore you are, but what would people think of me? Them getting to think you’ll let just anybody stick it in your ass, when I’m the one that got you to accept that.”
AJ moans at hearing Dean talk about anal sex again – about him. Dean likes to remind him what he’s let him do. And AJ likes hearing it.
“And now you’re walking around with elastic jammed up your crack in front of everybody.”
Dean’s suddenly up against AJ’s back, shoving him against the cold tile and breathing heavily against his hair. Dean’s dick is hard and hot in his combat pants, mashed up against AJ’s lower back. AJ starts to tingle where it’s pressed against him, groaning in his throat.
“I think you’re feeling too good, too hot,” Dean hisses, stroking AJ’s hair away from the back of his neck. “Think I better mark you up a bit, right here where people will see-”
“Fuck – don’t! Please,” AJ hears himself pleading, swaying on his feet and clawing at the wall, feeling Dean drop to his knees behind him.
“Where shall I bite, where shall I bite?” Dean mutters to himself, breathing over AJ’s lower back hotly. “Ah, I know,” he says before sinking his teeth into the meat of AJ’s right butt cheek, right through the blue lycra, biting so hard into the muscle that AJ can feel skin breaking. He swears and squeezes his eyes shut, pounding the wall with a gloved fist.
The throb of pain makes his eyes roll back in his head and the place above his groin tighten up and ache. He can feel the bruising start, the teeth marks.
Dean stands back up and spits against the wall by AJ’s face, pushing his head towards it. “Fucking lick that up.”
AJ sticks his tongue out as far as it’ll go to slowly lick Dean’s saliva from the cold tile, his dick pulsing even harder in front. Dean spits again, the saliva dripping down the wall. “And that. Suck it off, make it clean.”
As AJ opens his mouth to get to work, Dean steps back to get on his knees again, roughly pulling the blue tights down to AJ’s calves and forcing him to bend further forward, still licking and sucking at the wall through his gasps. He feels the air hit him as Dean pulls his cheeks apart, tugging the black elastic splitting them to the side, spitting his candy out and licking up against AJ’s twitching hole. He hisses, having never had Dean’s tongue down there before, just fingers and cock. Dean spits and drools, leaving him wet, hole clenching as he pulls him further apart.
“You taste so good back here, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, AJ feeling his breath against his ass and trying to stop a growl in his throat, pushing his cheek against the tile, sucking in air through his teeth. His dick is straining against the black material stretched in front – he’s leaking against it. It almost hurts, pulsing along with the bite to his cheek. “Imagine if no one ever found out how raunchy you taste inside. Wouldn’t that be sad?”
Dean stands back up and pulls AJ away from the wall by the back of his dance belt again, AJ nearly stumbling with his gear down around his shin guards. He’s pushed backwards over a massage table, Dean tugging his left boot and pad off to rip his tights off that leg, too – leaving him strapped up in his compression gear, the tented dampness at the front obscene. Dean quickly licks against it, getting eye contact with AJ as his tongue hits the sensitive head through the black material. AJ jolts against the table and moans – it’s been so long since he’s had his dick sucked. And to have a man’s mouth do it would feel so wrong, so bad.
“Ah; no, no, no. You’re not getting that tonight, sweetheart. No time for that. I’m going to put my dick in your ass, and then I’m going to go out there and give the crowd a better match then you did, with me stinking of you – what do you think; sound good? That’s how you deserve to be treated, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” AJ shakily lets out, staring up at the strip lighting above him and licking his lips, trying to catch his breath and not beg too much. He grits his teeth again, making himself say it. “That’s what whores like me deserve.”
AJ flicks his eyes down to check he’s doing it right, and Dean nods up at him with a smile, encouraging. “That’s right, you do. I haven’t forgotten last year’s TLC, either – showing everyone your ass, just like a slut would. But that ass is mine, isn’t it? You that gave that tight hole over to me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” AJ breathes out, keeping his eyes locked with Dean’s. “It’s yours.”
“Then show it to me,” Dean says with a grin, backing off and kneeling down to wait, jerking his head to where he wants to look. AJ sighs and grins, showing teeth and closing his eyes, his body flushing. He’s so hard – Dean wanting to look at him between his cheeks, where no one else has seen. He thrusts his hips upwards, and puts his hands underneath himself, tugging the elastic to the side and spreading himself open; feeling Dean’s eyes on him, his opening, still wet with saliva and sweat. It makes him hot all over, writhing with the feeling of being stared at where he should be hidden.
He can hear Dean’s growl, and feel him launching forward to push his tongue up inside him, squeezing at the thick muscle of AJ’s thighs and moaning. AJ flexes his hips and feels his lips peeling back over his teeth; it’s so dirty and disrespectful to be licked there, but just what he wants, just what he deserves. When Dean pulls away and stands up to undo his fly, sucking at his lower lip, AJ tries to push back the want Dean’s started up just inside and moves to get up and away, stuttering “You can’t – not yet – you can’t fit-“
“What? You think you can’t take it? Nah, guess not. Gotta make this a smooth ride. Good job I knew you’d come crawling around for my cock, right?” he says, pulling a small sachet of lube out of his pocket.
“No condom, though,” he whispers. “I’m takin’ your ass raw, just like always. I want lube and cum dripping down those meaty thighs of yours when you walk out of here tonight. I’m gonna ruin that dance belt-“
“Do it,” AJ hears himself begging in a deep voice. “Ruin it.”
“Oh I will, sweetheart,” Dean replies, stroking AJ’s hair back from his face once he’s climbed up onto the table with him, forcing AJ’s legs apart with his knees. “Now, we’re gonna have to do this quick – I’ve wasted enough time already, haven’t I? No yelling, okay? This might feel really bad before it gets good.”
When AJ feels Dean’s thick fingers rubbing and stroking around between his legs, he sucks in a breath at the coldness of the lube, then the pushing against and into his hole, fingertips jabbing and forcing themselves inside, the black elastic digging into the meat of his ass. First one, then two fingers inside; scissoring apart and making him recoil at the unnatural feeling, still not completely used to the violence of penetration into a body not accustomed to it.
“Shh, shh,” Dean soothes above, breathing against his hair and kissing his forehead, the gentleness intended as a humiliation, and taken that way – AJ growls and turns his head away from the affection. “There, there. There it is,” Dean says with pride as he sinks two fingers all of the way in easily, AJ whining in his throat and squeezing his eyes shut. His dick is so hard now it’s straining up against the fur of his belly, the leaking pink head of his cock poking out over the top of the black lycra that’s been tugged down off of his hips slightly and moved to the side to get access.
It’s what makes Dean start to take him rough, pulling AJ down to the edge of the table and forcing himself in from a standing position, making AJ’s teeth clash together, growling at the start of the slow push. His thick body pulled further and further onto Dean’s hardness, hands gripping into his waist, leaving nail marks and bruises behind.
AJ’s eyes roll and he arches down onto what’s steadily impaling him, pulling at his own hair and gritting his teeth when Dean starts to thrust inside his ass. He tries not to let out the words he wants to yell as Dean gets into a hard rhythm, harder than AJ’s been able to take cock before. Biting down how good it is, how badly he’s needed it. How much he wants Dean to cum inside him, shoot it right up inside his body so it never comes out, so he’ll always feel ruined inside. The relentless rub Dean’s started against that place in him that’s so needy makes him feel desperate, hot and stuffed full of cock – too much.
He’s nasty, and Dean knows that like no one else ever will.
“Fucking cum inside me – fill me up, goddammit” he lets himself growl.
“You don’t fucking deserve it, you slut,” Dean grunts, spraying AJ’s insides with cum – the nasty wet feeling triggering the start of AJ’s own orgasm. Dean was right; he likes it. He groans and writhes against the metal of the table, his body gripping Dean inside while his release shoots out to hit his flesh, seeping into the black material still digging into his hips. His whole body tingles with sharp pulses of pleasure as it gives little reflex jerks, aching and finally satisfied.
“DEAN! TWO MINUTES!” Seth’s voice yells through the door, cutting through their panting and the quiet moans.
“Woo, just in time, huh?” Dean shakily laughs, sniffing and gently pulling out of AJ’s still-clenching body, struggling to pull his combat pants back up, getting himself back in order to go out there and wrestle. AJ slumps back against the table and stretches a leg, breathing like he’s run for miles, gasping oxygen into his throat and feeling salt tears leaking out of his eyes – fucked and hurt so good, left so wet.
“Wish me luck, darlin’. How the fuck I’m supposed to wrestle a full match after that, I don’t know,” Dean says, slapping and squeezing at AJ’s thigh and enjoying the jiggle and groan he gets back. AJ’s too well-fucked to be irritated or push back. AJ can feel Dean likes him like this, wants more of it.
“Come to my room later, huh – like old times?”
AJ nods, licking his lips and flexing his hips to see if he can move yet.
“And don’t take off that dance belt, okay?” Dean whispers, gaze taking in what AJ made him do, noting the lazy smirk across his lips, and smiling right back.
“Fucking you through it sure was fun… but I’m gonna rip it off of you later, just like I promised.”
