Waiting for Time

Shawn's POV

I've been sitting in this armchair, in the dark and watching, for twenty minutes now. I know it's been twenty minutes because one of things I've been watching is the luminous numbers of the clock on the bedside table.

The other 'thing' I've been watching just shuddered again and cursed the best blue streak I've heard since he last moved five minutes ago. All of this he manages to do without waking, of course.

I silently snort. Oh yeah, this is a natural sleep.

I'll get up in a second, go find out exactly what the big guy took to give him this completely blissless and totally restless night's sleep.

But in the mean time, I just sit in the dark and watch.

Fuck, I wish this 'job' had fallen on somebody else's shoulders, as my mind continues to wander I realise it's now been twenty-two minutes.

~~~*~*~~~

"Yeah, I heard Hunt. Please tell me this didn't involve a fucking Fed Ex delivery."

"Wish I could, Shawn. That alone had Sean wild enough to want to remove Seigal's balls with a rusty bread knife. Never let it be said that the fuckwits at WCW don't know how to grind that pain just that little bit more."

"Who's with Scotty now, Hunt?"

I can hear the 'well-duh' right through Hunter's next words.

"Who do you think, Michaels? Kid, of course."

Hunt's right, that was the dumbest question I've asked for at least twenty-four hours.

"Have you heard from him?"

"Sean?" I know Hunter can't see my nod but I do it anyway. "Not yet, but it's cool. You know him Michaels. From the minute this whole fucking mess left the starting gate, Scott has been his one and only thought. He'll ring when he can. Which'll be right after he remembers we exist."

Fuck, Hunter amazes me. He said each and every one of those words with out the slightest drift of bitterness. He just admitted his lover to all intents and purposes has forgotten he's alive and he couldn't be less disturbed.

I wish I had that in me.

"But anyway Shawn, that's where you come in."

"Where I come in what?" Why do I get the feeling I blacked out during a vital part of this conversation?

"Shawn, try to keep up, will you! Kevin's back in the country as of two hours ago. Sean's where he needs to be, if I could leave here I would, but I can't. So that leaves you to-"

Don't say it Hunter, please don't.

"Go hold Kev together until Scott's ready to leave the dark hole he will have dug himself into."

Ah fuck.

I'd gotten no further than opening my mouth when Hunter continues.

"There's no one else, Shawn. You have to go."

I decided against begging, but only just, and only because Hunt was expecting it.

So, one plane flight, and one incredible HBK smile to a fairly average looking desk clerk later brings me back to sitting in the dark, watching Kevin roll and twist and the red numbers ever so fucking slowly change.

I finally move from the chair, quietly stepping over the bag I ever so carefully dumped at my feet when I sat in this chair exactly thirty nine minutes ago.

Snatching up the bottle of pills from where they sit on the bedside table just behind the clock, I head for the bathroom. Shutting the door before I turn on the light, I then slam my eyes shut against the harshness.

Not bothering to open my eyes, I head for the sink. After all, a hotel bathroom is a hotel bathroom. If I didn't have to read the label on whatever pain pills Kevin's ingested I wouldn't have had to turn the light on at all.

Of course, then I wouldn't have had to move from the chair I was beginning to take root in in the first place.

Okay, a quick look at the words written on the bottle in my hand explains the whole 'cursing without waking' thing.

Also makes me wonder if he'll wake at any time during what I've got planned, and it won't be half as much fun if he doesn't. Rethinking what I've got planned doesn't even cross my mind.

Turning the bathroom light off, I open the door again and just stand in the doorway, looking in the general direction of the bed and clutching at the small bottle.

Hold Kevin together, says Hunter. How the fuck do I do that? I'm yet to master holding Michael Hickenbottom together. Shawn Michaels, on the other hand, is stuck together with super glue.

I've re-acquainted my eyes to the dark now, so I move to stand at the side of the bed. I put the bottle back where Kevin left it, knowing that he's put whatever medication he's on in exactly the same place for as long as I've known him.

A glance at those numbers tells me I'm up to forty-eight minutes.

Kevin's sprawled across the bed, face down, both arms above his head like a 5 year old who has a finger in his back and someone whispering 'stick 'em up' in his ear. He's managed to bunch the covers partly around his waist while at the same time entangling them within his legs. I see one bare ass cheek. I'll be seeing more than that before the night is through. Maybe. Hopefully.

Deciding against going back to my chair, I sit at the foot of the bed in the one corner Kevin doesn't fill. Bringing my knees up so I can rest my chin on them, I go back to watching.

From here I can see the big guy's knee, see the swelling, see the bruising. He's gonna be none too happy at having to go under the knife again, but even I can see he's got no fucking chance of avoiding it.

Fifty-eight minutes.

Hold Kevin together? I glance back at the bag that's laying by the chair, almost like I'm surprised it hasn't grown legs and walked away. Or maybe it' s just that I wish it had. Or maybe I'm wishing it had just come closer. After all, I know what's inside it. I'd better, I packed it.

Hold Kevin together, huh? Well, it is me, so I guess I'll hold him together the best way I know how. And for me, that's to make him shatter beneath my hands and mouth, and around my cock.

I'm still sitting and not so much watching now as just letting my eyes float... over Kevin, around the room, back to the red glow of the numbers.

Sixty-two minutes. *Well, this is fun* flits through my mind, but oddly enough I'm not bored enough to actually think about moving yet. Fuck, would kid laugh himself sick and the notion of me curled up, still and watching Kevin sleep. I wonder how he'd feel if he knew how often I'd done exactly this, only it was him I was watching over.

Those fucking numbers keep blinking over, and they tick through 5 more minutes before the one thing I've been waiting sixty-seven minutes for happens.

Kev finally rolled from his stomach to his back. And I think he invented a couple of new variations of the word 'fuck' at the same time.

Guess I have to move now. The rest of this ill conceived, unthought out, tactile nightmare of a plan needs that duffle bag.

I move gently, quietly, even though Rikiski dancing on the bed probably wouldn't wake drug induced sleeping beauty at the moment.

Or I was moving silently until I trip over Kevin's boats, sorry, boots, that I failed to notice in the dark. Well, at least we know me dancing around the room muttering 'fuck' none too quietly won't wake him.

And yet again I can just see Sean laughing himself sick.

I finally get over my rendition of the chicken dance, and I kick those fucking boats somewhere where I'll forget and probably do the same thing in the morning. Only then there'll be the added bonus of an audience. Fun.

I bend down to pick up the bag - and two things happen. One: my back cracks, will I never learn to bend at my fucking knees?! And two: I hear more creative cursing from the bed.

With the way my luck has been running lately, I turn around fully expecting Kev to have rolled back over and I'll be back to red number watching. But no, for a change my luck is holding. All that's happened is Kevin finally managed to untangle the sheets from his legs, and from the rest of his body. One incredibly naked Big Sexy lays there.

Maybe I won't suck at the 'hold the Kevin together' thing after all.

Heedless of the way my back twinges, I grab the bag and walk back to the unfilled corner of the bed, though this time I lay the bag there. Unzipping the thing without even taking my eyes off Kevin, I start to pull out the items, stashing them where I know they'll be in reach when I need them.

One goes under the pillow Kevin's head should be laying on.

Two go on top of that self same pillow; I'll be needing them presently.

Another goes on the floor, so close to the bed it's almost under it, but still within easy reach.

And finally the item that gets flung over the clock on the bedside table, hiding that fucking red time. Thank christ.

After I've finished my unpacking (what, you thought I brought clothes?), I chuck the empty bag roughly in the same direction as I kicked the boats. Something else for me to fall over, I guess.

Then, it's time to fish or cut bait.

Right now I can still turn back, still just curl up beside Kev and be there when the drugs wear off. Or I can continue my way down the less than wholesome path I've begun.

I guess the fact that I've lost my shirt, socks and boots and my hands are at the waist band of my jeans by the time this thought crosses my mind tells you my decision.

And so I stand in my boxers listening to a few more 'fucks' from Kevin's mouth. Then he settles again and it's time.

I'm kicking the boxers in the general direction of who the hell knows where even as I'm reaching for one of those enormous hands I gently shift it up till it's close enough to my target for what I have in mind. As my hand reaches for the pillow's bounty, my mouth is leaning towards the wrist I hold. My tongue circles around it, and for the first time tonight the noise leaving Kevin's mouth is a whimper, not a curse. As my tongue leaves his skin, the handcuff replaces my mouth. Its kiss is a little firmer than mine, though. The other end fastens damn nicely to the bedpost.

I walk around to the other side rather than crawl over the prone body. I don't want to jar his knee. I have no qualms about handcuffing Kevin to the bed, but I don't want to jar his knee. I don't even want to think about how sick that could quite possibly be.

There's one bonus to this being Kevin and not kid... the whole handcuff-arm-post reach factor doesn't even enter the equation.

As I reach for the second handcuff, my mouth passes up his wrist in favour of the crook of his elbow. My mouth slowly marks his skin and I guess I should be worried that I can lock in the metal without even paying attention. I'm not.

The sight of this beautiful giant spread before me makes *me* whimper. I may truly be ratshit at the 'hold together' thing, but the sex thing? Now that I can do, and I can do it to perfection.

Finally I crawl onto the bed, then onto Kevin. I move so that I straddle my knees either side of his hips, feeling a cock that isn't as flaccid as it should be beneath me. I can't resist a slow grind for a couple of seconds, but then in a somewhat controlled move I fall forward, sliding my hands up his arms as far as I can, holding tight, making sure the stupid prick won't hurt himself because now I begin the can-we-wake-Kevin campaign.

And of course with my hands kind of busy that only leaves my mouth and tongue free. Oh well, I've learnt a trick or two from Sean over the years.

Brushing the hair aside with my nose my tongue starts tracing the shell of Kev's ear - slowly, very slowly. And continually. My brain has decided my tongue stays put until he moans, or whimpers, or sighs. Hell, I'll even settle for a half-hearted groan. My brain made up this game, I never said I agreed with it.

I'm on my third circuit when the sounds comes, one of Kevin's 'yes please' sighs, and I finally get to drag my tongue down his neck. Then back up, then down. Damn, he tastes good. The whimper hits just as I'm about to head back up those tendons again. Thank god. Collar bone next. This time I'm kissing my way across, laying gentle bites on the bone. I barely get two bites in when yet another 'Fuck' leaves Kevin's mouth. The previous ones didn't quite come out on a breathy moan, though.

I feel the gentle, not so rhythmic thrust of Kevin's hips, then hear the subtle change in his breathing pattern. Time to make my face known.

Making sure I hold his forearms as firmly as I can, I raise my head till it's directly above his.

Slowly, Kevin's eyelids flutter and flick and even when they open I wait.

The blinking continues and I can almost see the fog roll back.

"Hey, Kev."

"Michaels?" Okay, the fog hasn't completely rolled back.

Either that or Kevin thinks there's more chance of finding a leprechaun sitting on his chest than me. 9 times out of 10 he'd probably be right.

Of course, just about then he tries to move; still unaware that something other than me is holding him down.

"Shh Kevin. It's okay baby, just settle down." I'm still shh-ing as I lean down to stroke my nose over his cheek.

"Why the fuck am I handcuffed to the fucking bed, Michaels?"

I guess the fog's all gone now.

"Because I thought it'd be fun?" Even though I know it's a major waste of time, I flash a grin in Kevin's direction.

"Go sell to someone who'll actually buy it, Michaels. Get off me and get these fucking things off me!"

Up until now I'd actually forgotten what a bitch Kevin is when he's woken. How does Scotty put up with it?

But I didn't come here with the idea that this would be easy. Good thing I'm kind of persistent, or is that stubborn? Or maybe just plain stupid. I think I've more than qualified for all three at various points in my life.

Oops, Kevin bucking his hips reminds me he's there. I know most people wouldn't have forgotten in the first place. Okay, getting back on track now.

Kev knows the handcuffs are there now, so I slide my hands down his arms and then along his sides, dragging what nails I have along his flesh and making the touch count. My lips go back to the bone they were rudely interrupted from however many minutes ago.

"What the fuck are you doing, Michaels?"

Trying to get out of this whole timespan with as few words as possible was what I was trying to do. Looks like I'm failing miserably. So what else is new?

I move my hands so they're just spanning Kevin's chest, then lay my forehead on the bone I've just about given up on teasing. Three grounding breaths and then I raise my head, sitting back on Kevin's hips.

One look at Kev and I know HBK ain't going to cut it, looks like Michael has to come out and play. Fuck.

Now is not the time to be questioning my resolve.

"Please baby, let me do this. Let me do this this way, I'm not kid, this is the only way I know how."

Pleading wasn't really the emotion I was going for, but it's too late to take it back.

Kevin looks like he's ready to verbally rip my head off, but when he opens his mouth I don't think I'm the only one surprised by the gentle tone.

"We can still do *this* without me being staked out like some crucifixion re-enactment gone so incredibly wrong."

Yeah we could, but...

"Please Kevin, I want to play. Let me play with you? It's been such a long time."

The silence that follows is filled with both of us thinking the same thing - there's no one else to blame for my lack of both playtime and Kliq time but me. But I will not admit to failures or mistakes and Kev must be either too horny or sleepy to rise to the bait. That maybe he sees the pain that flashes in my eyes and loves me too much to mention it doesn't even occur to me.

"Okay Shawn, you win."

You're handcuffed to the bed big guy; I was never going to lose.

"But before I inquire what else 'playtime with Shawn' contains, kid's with Scotty isn't he?"

Since the beginning of that statement Kevin's been moving his hips beneath me. I can feel the swell of his sex increasing, but even then his thoughts are for Scott. Fuck, I'd murder and maim to have somebody, anybody, love me like that.

I move my hands to stroke over his face as I answer. "Yes, Sean's with Scotty. The only reason he wasn't with him as soon as he hung up the phone was that, contrary to popular belief, he isn't Superman and he has to wait for the plane to do the flying."

The soft smile that passes over Kevin's face is for Sean; the nod is for nobody in general. The words are for me.

"Okay, I'm all yours Shawn. So baby, c'mon and tell me all about this plan you obviously have half formed."

"I get to play." I've gone back to feathering his chest with my fingers, though I'm purposely ignoring his nipples, "and you get to be played with."

"Are you planning on using something other than me as a toyyyyy - oh fuck Shawn. Again."

I've stopped avoiding his nipples. The second fragile tweak earns me another moan.

A quick stoop for a fast hard kiss and I grab the item off the clock, the numbers don't even register, and I sit back on those hips. The flicking and rolling movement I do with the item is a familiar movement - but not from me.

I look at Kev's face when I have a narrow folded piece of fabric in my hands.

"Kid's bandanna? Why the fuck do you have one of kids-"

I've laid the cloth over his eyes. I think he figured it out.

"Lift a little."

It takes a couple of seconds but he does it without a word. A nice tight knot at the side of Kevin's head lets him lay back down in some kind of comfort.

I go back to raking my fingers over that chest, though this time the touch is much stronger and I'm making sure I scrape his nipples more often than not.

If it wasn't for the fairly insistent and increasing size of my own cock, I'd almost be happy to just sit here and listen to all those Kevin noises. Almost.

But the grind of Kevin's hips is becoming anything but gentle and I decide there is something else I want. Maybe not the same something I started out with in mind, but something none the less.

"For fucks sake Michaels, do something!"

I didn't realise my fingers had been in motion through out my whole little thinking time out.

"Shawnnnnn!"

Oops, did it again.

With one final pass over, I remove my hands, then myself from Kevin's body.

"Can I play, baby?"

Another whimper, only this time it's frustration through and through.

"Michaels, look at me!"

I'm looking. I'm looking.

"If you aren't going to touch me, I will hunt you down and they will be finding pieces of you hidden from here to Texas!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Right about now I'm glad I can't see those flint coloured eyes shooting sparks at me.

"And trust me baby, I'm looking." I can't help myself, I snarl "and tasting, too" as I bend, meaning just to swipe my tongue over the head of his sex, just to taste the precum, not wanting it to go to waste.

But once I'm there the taste and life that is Kevin draws me in. Or more to the point I draw him in - to my mouth. I feel the gentle slide of his cock in my mouth. He feels the not so gentle slide of my tongue down his cock, around the base and back up again as I start to bob my head. Oh fuck that's nice.

"Oh fuck, Shawn, that's nice.'

Great minds - or is that fools never differ? Whatever. My hand is creeping up the inside of Kevin's legs, gently spreading them as I go, then continues upwards to play with his balls. Damn, I love those non-words that are being prised from that mouth.

"Shawn-"

I'm not paying much attention to Kev's words, just the horse, sleepy, sexy tone.

"Baby, please-"

*Please what, Kev?* is what I think, but hey, my mouth is kind of busy, my mind rapidly emptying of anything that resembles lucid thought.

"SHAWN! STOP!" The screech, not to mention violent bucking, finally diverts my attention.

With one last fast hard lick down his complete length I finally lift my head. Then, with a voice full of my best smirk, I ask rather inanely, "Why?"

Did I mention my hand's still happily rolling his balls, my fingertips dancing over the soft sensitive skin that his sack hides.

"Why?" Kevin echoes on a breathless moan. "Stupid prick wants to know why," he grumbles to nobody. Of course, the whole time he's bitching he's trying to hump my hand, fresh air.

"Shawn, if you don't stop, this will be game over before either of us wants."

An evil elf inside my mind dares me to make the next comment, I know it's completely childish, but I never back down from a dare.

"The Game is over, the other side of the country that is."

This time it's a groan while humping.

"Michaels, you are a complete fuck, but I love you. And if you don't get your fucking hands off me the only game you'll be playing is 'let's lick Kevin clean!'"

My hand is gone in the space of a heartbeat. One word that will always be used to describe Kev is blunt. And fucking blunt at that.

I'm standing now, silent and still watching that body move. Not much admittedly, after all his hands are tied, his knee is fucked. But his chest is still heaving with the need to draw in air, and his hips are still rising and falling though the motion is less demanding now, it's gentle, hoping the touch will return.

I seem to be channelling Marcel Marceau tonight, I've never been this quiet, this often since... well, since never.

"Shawn?" Kevin breathes my name with more effort than sound.

"I'm here." I answer as I reach for the one thing I left beside the bed. I have it in my hands, now I get to play.

"Where's here?" The lack of site and the left over fog is disorientating Kevin, good. "And why doesn't 'here' involve touching me?"

This is the same guy that just told me to remove that self same touching, isn't it? Well, actually, it was my hands I had to remove, so I can still do the touching.

A lazy roll of the wrist and the tentacles of a velvet whip are now splayed across Kevin's chest.

"Oh, fuck."

Nice summary, Kev. "We'll get to that big guy, in a bit, I promise, but you did say I could play."

Another flick of the wrist and Kevin's back to humping and I'm watching the velvet lengths curl around that torso like love starved fingers. I hold the whip upright so the strands dance on his stomach, before flicking again and they land across his pecs, teasing his nipples as I drag the whip away.

There's 3 more velvet lashes to those erect nubs before I head back down to Kevin's stomach. If I wasn't hard before I am now, just watching him undulate beneath the whip and trying not to pull too hard on the cuffs, while listening to the nonsense noises he's mewling. Fuck, that's hot. It doesn't even occur to me that this the first time my pleasure has even drifted into my mind tonight.

"And the reason we don't let you play more is why, Michaels?"

I think it took everything Kevin had to get that sentence said.

With more bitterness than I meant to let go of, I answer, "It's not you that doesn't let me play." But I don't give him time to form thought, let alone speech, to answer my slip up as I flay those tentacles again, this time getting dangerously close to somewhere I shouldn't. But I will anyway.

I hear "Shawnnnn" as I swish the tendrils across his navel, then "Fuck me" as I flick them across his thighs. I'm getting lost in the rhythm I'm setting when I finally hear, "For fuck's sake baby, do something!" Somehow, I don't think that was the first time he's growled that.

"I am doing something." Lazily I whip across his sternum. "I'm playing." The lashes land across his thighs.

"I think I just remember why we don't let you play. Fuck, Michaels, do something, but most of all do me!"

Just for good measure I twirl the velvet lengths around Kevin's rock hard length for a few stray instances then heave the whip towards that mountain of junk I seem to be intent on building and I'm on the bed crawling to Kev before even I realise it.

In one movement I'll never figure out how I mastered, I free Kev's eyes and grab the lube from under the pillow. I've reseated myself on his thighs while Kevin is still trying to bring back his focusing abilities.

He seems to have it as he watches me squeeze what I need onto my fingers, then yelps as I proceed to warm it, not on my fingers, but on his cock. My hand plays up and down his length, twisting as I go.

"Shawn, baby, please I need to be inside you. Please baby, ride me like there's no dawn coming."

This is the bit of the plan I changed as I went along. I had every intention of fucking Kevin so hard and so slow tonight that he'd be begging for that dawn to come. But this'll be a hell of lot more pleasurable for both of us if Kevin's not screaming the wallpaper off the wall in pain. That knee of his has sweet fuck all give in it at the moment. I'll catch up with why it strikes me as odd that I can't figure out what bothers me about that thought later.

I raise myself till I'm perched on Kevin's cock and feeling it's insistent pressure. It's been a while since I've done this and maybe doing it without any preparation isn't the best idea I've ever had, but none the less I start to slide down Kev's length, controlling how little I take at a time. To take my mind off the pain flitting across my senses, I meet those incredible hurricane grey eyes.

"Watch me."

If he was being a prick he'd point out he doesn't have much of a choice. He doesn't.

I bring my hands to my nipples. Playing, pulling, pleasuring while I continue to sink. By the time I'm fully seated any pain has long since gone and all I'm left with is need, mine, Kevin's, it doesn't matter. I wake up to the fact that it never did.

"Fuck, Shawn! Move! Your hands, your hips I don't care, just move something! Please, baby, I need you!"

I can't and won't dwell on those last three little words right now, so I don't. But I can deal with the 'move' part of the sentence, so I do.

Slowly I begin to rise above Kevin, then anything but slowly, I slam myself back down. I seem to have lost the urge for slow and gentle and calm, Kevin doesn't have seemed to have noticed it was there in the first place.

My eyes hold Kevin's. There are no words as my hand travels down to wrap itself around my sex. I doubt either of us could tell you if words just aren't necessary or we aren't capable of forming them Both of us seem happy with the sounds, the whimpers, groans and near shrieks. Of course, Kev's hardly quiet, either.

Those eyes are screaming at me now, begging me to do something. Fuck, I haven't had a clue as to what I'm doing since I heard Hunter say 'It's me' on the phone however many hours ago it was.

But from the way Kevin's hips are starting assert themselves I do actually know what he wants now.

The hand around my cock, pulls harder, wraps tight, strokes longer. My free hand starts to stroke anywhere that belongs to Kevin I can reach. His thigh, his hip, his navel. And just when I damn sure I'll be diving off this cliff alone, I Kevin's choice word for tonight is drawn out the way only he can.

"Fuuuuuuucccccck."

I feel the first fluid rush, then I'm too involved in staying upright as I feel my own seed on my hand, see it splattered across Kev's chest, much like those whip's fingers earlier tonight.

Again I'm wordlessly watching those eyes as they glide down my chest to rest of my hand, still wrapped around my softening sex.

I lean forward holding the cum covered hand within reach of his mouth, then release another whimper as he proceeds to lick it clean.

The next whimper is entirely Kevin's as I raise myself away from him and he slides free of my body. Deciding he's had enough, for tonight at least, I gently crawl over him, making my way back to the headboard.

I'm releasing and gently kissing the vague red marks on his wrists where I hear Kevin slur, "I do love you Michaels, you know that, right?"

I sit myself in an uncomfortable half sitting position back against the bed head, tenderly but firmly coaxing Kevin's head into my lap. "Yeah big guy, I know it, and return it. Sleep now Kev, I'll still be here in the morning."

I stroke his hair and watch him fight sleep like a kid afraid he'll miss on something at his parents' New Year's Eve party. Though I think most five year olds last longer then the 3 minutes it took Kevin to lose consciousness. I know I'll sit and watch him sleep most of the night and pay dearly for it with my back in the morning. But Kevin is comfortable and that's all that matters.

Then, suddenly, as if some short circuit in my brain finally kicked in, I realise why it struck me as odd that I no longer wanted to fuck Kevin. Oh, fuck. His knee. His pain. His comfort. Since when have I given a thought to others? Even those I know I love beyond any life on this earth. It's always been about me, for me, because of me. When did that change? Why did that change?

Oh, fuck.

A loud rush of air takes my attention back to my lap and I watch Kevin try to burrow closer, to seek that magical something from me that seems to have delivered him a form of peace. I find I don't know the words for the measure of peace that small wriggle brings me.

Oh, fuck.

When the hell did Shawn Michaels grow the fuck up? I laugh silently to myself. Even I have to admit it's about fucking time.

Or I would have.

If I hadn't dozed off.

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