Authour's Notes (there are a rather lot of them):
1. I'm trying to stick to character, which means the Rock will never refer to himself with first person pronouns, I hope *crosses fingers*, bring out a few vital emotions, read anger, and incorporate dialouge into this fic. It's also my first NC-17. It's a learning experience for me, or rather several. Please enjoy!
2. I'm notorious for my hatred of main events, I can't stand them. I didn't see the ending to the 8-man tag between the "un-Americans" and HHH and Rocky et al. In my mind, for plot continuity, Hunter's team has won. So there!
3. As I mentioned this is my first attempt at NC-17. I'm aware it's probably the worst piece of literature you've ever read. If you feel the need to tell me that, however, you can email me at [email protected]. We don't need to be filling the board up with negative feedback.
4. Could someone please tell me whether locker-room is one word or two? This cautious hypenating stuff is getting really old.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, unless Vince decides to trade them for the lint in my pockets, which is my way of saying if you sue me you'll get nothing.
Distribution: Myst, Darkflame, my site. Anyone else please ask.
Dedication: For all the usual suspects. Written especially for Kay though. Happy belated birthday :)
Rating: NC-17, at least I think. So there :P
Let the Games begin (1/1)
by lirpa
*Hunter's POV*
I can't believe that man, acting liek he owns the arena, just because he's the WWE champion. Hell, I was the WWE champion and I don't go around interupting speeches, well actually I do, but who cares. I am the Game and I'm that damn good. I can do whatever I want and no one can stop me.
My locker-room door bangs open and he stalks in like the bull he's adopted as his totem. And the Brahma Bull looks angry. Gee, what'd I do?
"What, exactly, was that all about, Helmsley?"
"What are we talking about Rocky?" I try and sound sweet and innocent.
He snarls. Pint to me.
"That thing out there with Brock."
"There is no "thing" between me and Brock, Rocky. Rest your feeble little mind."
He gnashes his teeth. This game is almost too easy. Hey, I said almost.
I roll off the sofa I'm lying on, "You wanna know why, Rocky? You wanna know why I'd never help Brock win, Rocky?"
He snarls something unintelligable that I think was, "Enlighten me."
"I'm gonna tell you whether you want to hear it or not, Rocky. I won't help Brock Lesnar for one reason only. The person who defeats you, who takes that belt, is going to be me."
He stares at me hotly. Gee, I think I hit a nerve. Two points to me. How many am I at anyway?
"I'll tell yo what, Rocky. If you win tonight you and I will talk, I'll even consider making a deal with you."
"And if the Rock loses, not that the Rock will, " he added arrogantly. Nice try Rocky, but it'll take more than that to get under my skin.
"Then I'll stil consider it. Now if you'll excuse me I have a tag match to get ready for."
He gives me the evil glare but stalkes out of the room. What was the score, 4 to 0 for me? I wouldn't pgo so far as to say that's the final score, not by any means. I think it's just first intermission in what promises to be a very long and interesting game. too bad for Rocky he can't win. No one can, not against me. If Rocky wer to say that I'd call it arrogance, but I know I can say it truthfully. After all, I am that damn good. Just bring it Rocky, let the games begin.
*Rocky's POV*
I didn't lose the match, my did. So what if it's another L on the Rock's record. It's not like thereweren't already hundreds of them. I practically walk into Hunter, stopping just in time to avoid a collision.
He smirks and I can almost see the wheels turning in his manipulative, backstabbing mind.
"Hello, Rocky."
"How can one man's voice annoy me so god damn much?
"Let's see, we wrestled, I won. Now onto Summerslam," he continues.
"You said you had a deal for the Rock?"
"I said I might."
"The Rock doesn't have all night, Helmsley." I move to push past him.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Rocky. You might wanna hear this."
"Then speak, Helmsley, The Rock has other things to do tonight. he doesn't want to spend the whoel night listening to you whine.
He gnashes his teeth. Oh yes, two can play at this game, Helmsley. I may not be as good as you are, btu I know I a few tricks.
*HHH's POV*
Point to him. Score 4-1. Possibilities: endless, if he takes me up on my offer that is.
He's staring at me agian, waiting for me to speak. God, I love being in control.
"What I'm proposing is a bet."
"A bet? You want to be against the Rock? The Great One?"
"Now, now Rocky. I never said I would be bettign against you."
"You wouldn't be betting with the Rock, Hemlsley."
"Rocky, I'm hurt."
He just raises that damn eyebrow at me. I control my reaction. No need to let hi score.
"On the outcome of Summerslam," I continue.
"Yes?"
He's interested. Good.
"Should you win you get whatever you want. Should I win I get whatever I want."
He eyes me distrustfully.
"Come now Rocky, I'm not askign you to fall on your sword."
"For how long?"
Ahh, time. A night, a week, a year, does it matter? When I'm done with you you'll be mine.
"Does it matter?"
"Hell yes."
"A week then."
"Too long," he almost snarls.
"Half a week," I arue. I cannot lose this. I cannot.
"A night," he continues.
"A night," I agree.
We shake on it. The game is on. You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, little boy. I am the Game, and soon you'll know that
After Summerslam...
he lost, he lost, he lost. I wasn't expecting him to lose. But if he lost then I won. This game is mine, game over.
*Rocky's POV*
Hunter thinks he's won thi game, a game he started with me I might add. The thinng is that the game hasn't even started. The game had nothing to do with that piece of monkey crap, Brock Lesnar, it didn't even have anything to do with the championship. This game has to do with HHH. Just because he won the bet doesn't mean he's beat the Rock. Now we're entering a whole different playing field, the Rock's playing field, and the Game doesn't stand a chance. Iwill walk out the victor because this is one game HHH can't hope to win.
*Hunter's POV*
I've been waiting for Rocky for what seems like hours. In reality it's probably only been twenty minutes. I've paced the length of my hotel room ten times. The damn thing seems to get smaller every circuit I complete. Finally there comes a knock at the door.
I stomp over and throw the door open with enough force to tear the door off its hinges. Miracously, the door is still attached to the frame when it hits the stopper.
"You're late," all my anger and frustration rolled into two words. Two little words.
"So? Do you tink the Rock cares about your schedule?" And then he smiles, the smug bastard.
He walks into the room with a confident swagger,like he owns the room, and everything in it. I'll show him, the bastard.
"Do you know what I do to people who're late?"
"Does the Rock care?" Again that damnable arroganec, th one thing that defines Rocky more then anything else in the world.
"You should care, Rocky, you should care." I'm sure I sound sinister and frigtening but the bastard laughs. He laughs. He's not intimidated in the least by me. damn it, this is not the way I saw this night playing out.
Before I knwo exactly what's happening I'm colliding with the wall and he's kicking the door shut with his foot. I have this undeniable urge to slug him a good one, hoping to remind him exactly who's in charge tonight.
His head snaps back.H elocks one hand around my neck while the other is reflexively brought to his ip, where I punched him. I'm happy to see his fingers come away bloody. Good, let the bastard bleed.
*Rocky's POV*
I bring my fingers away from my lip and raise them to eye level. they're red, rivulets of blood running down them to pool in my palm. Bastard's gonna pay for that.
I smile, a predatory baring of teeth.The game isn't over yet. we're at the second intermission or playing hard in the third period. But make no mistake Hunter, the game is on. I'm playing to win.
He swallows. I think he' sjust realized we're playing for keeps. tehn he smiles, that same predatory baring of teeth. the game is on.
he tries to pull out of my grip but I tighten n my fingers around his throat, cuttin off his air supply. I'm in control he's not going to forget that, not ever again.
His body is growing weak, his eyes showing fear. He's afraid I'm going to strangle him to death. It is such a wonderful, tempting idea, but no. I have other plans for the Game this night.
When he can no longer fight back, when hsi body has gone lax from oxygen deprivation, I toss himonto the bed. He just lays there for a moment, taking gasping breths, sucking air into his starving lungs. He can fel my eyes on him though. The way he moves telss me that . It's a fearless, reckless movement, all so he can meet my stare. It's a challenge. Teh Rock never backs down from a challenge. Helmsley can just bring it.
He's up, standing next to the bed, looking like he's going to head for me. I cut him off before he can get more than half a dozen steps away from the bed. I'm in front of him, backing him up until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls back.
Before he can drah himself into a sittign position I'm on him, ripping his clothes off, ripping my own, not acring as buttons from both our shirts go flying across the room. All I care about is the feeling of skin on skin.
Finall I've got hi completely naked, us completely naked, clothes strewn about the room; shirts hanging off a potted plant a a floor lamp.
And he's kissing me, or I'm kissing him, out tongues meeting on a battlefield, a continuation of out game, a game I was destined to win. I can feel him squirming against me, his erection pressing into me. I can feel his arousal, see it in his eyes, as I'm sure he can see it in mine.
He bucks me off, but it doesn't matter because I've already won this game, all that's left is the victory celebnration.
He's kneeling on all fours, his hair hiding his face. It's okay though, i know what I'll see if i pull back that curtain of hair.
"I'm ready."
He sounds so sure, so confident, I find myslf reaching for te lube on the bedside table. By the time I realize what's happening, that Hunter's told me, the Great One, what to do I don't care anymore. All I care about is being buried to the hilt inside Hunter's sweet, tight ass.
*Hunter's POV*
What the hell is taking him so long? Then I feel it, his long, hard cock slowly puching into me. This is what heaven who feels like I'm sure. he pounda away,so completely in control,s o masterful. Oh God.
I see white for a moment and while I'm shaking the cobwebs from my head from my own release I hear his roar of completion behind me.
I feel sticky and sweaty and I've never been happier in my life. I fall to the mattress and he collapses on top of me, until I elbow him that is, then he pulls back up. We're still connected and it's incredibly erotic.
"I'm not ready for round two, Hunter," he whines.
"There won't be a round two unless you get off me, asshole. You nearly killed me. Do you know how hard it is to breathe with a 270 pound man on your back?"
I swear he sounds sheepish as he apologizes, "Oh, sorry."
And then he's pulled himself out of me and rolled onto the other side of the bed.
"Hey!"
"What now?"
"I'm not sleeping in the wet spot."
He looks at me with those smoldering chocolate eyes and replies, "Who said anything about sleeping?"
Several hours later...
"Rocky?"
"Yes, Hunter?"
"Why do you choose such phsycological games?"
"Dunno, they're fun."
"They're hard. You have no idea how hard it is to to be the Game all the time."
He doesn't say anything, he justs laughs.
A few minutes later...
"Rocky?"
"What now, Hunter?" he sounds angry,or at least annoyed.
"Next time I choose the game."
He laughs, "Whatever you say, Hunter. Now go to sleep."
And I do.
The End