Title: Care Package

Author: Lyndelle (BizGirlCharlie)

Distribution: Angel's Realm. Others please ask.

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Vince McMahon and the company that may still be called Titan Sports??? I don’t own them. Frankly, I don’t own much.

Rating: NC-17. It’s not quite a PWP but it is porn and the plot’s rather irrelevant. If that’s not your thing, please don’t read it.

Content: m/f sex, and coarse language

Characters: Bubba Ray Dudley/Trish Stratus, cameo by the voice of Spike Dudley

Summary: Trish goes to Dudleyville to give a concussed Bubba Ray some real TLC…or is that T & A? Actually, the real story is that I felt sad when Bubba got concussed in that TLC match and decided he needed some fic-ish action. My first real smut fic so please tell me what you think!

This must have been hell, because it sounded like a symphony. Huge steel kettle drums pounded out a tribal beat, clashing discordantly with the wailing of an out-of-tune brass section. The music built to a crescendo, deafening those who’d come to witness the horror - all of his half-brothers and their families. And then, up on the stage, the lone figure in a Trojan helmet and muumuu opened his mouth and began to sing. This was worse than a symphony. This was opera. His mouth opened wide, wider still. But then a sound issued forth, so loud it outdid even the orchestra. It wasn’t a song. This sound was a scream.

Bubba woke with a start, his hands almost immediately flying to his head, a position he’d assumed far more than once these past few days. The striking familiarity of it had him wondering whether or not he was even awake. He looked down. No, he wasn’t dressed in drag. That was always a good start when initiating reality. He could still hear the music, though, but now the kettle drums had been replaced by the ominous booming of his own head. And the brass section? Gone. No, wait. There it was. The phone. The phone was ringing.

Bubba groaned and flopped back down again. The machine could get it. What he needed was more sleep. He’d slept almost constantly since he’d gotten home, except for when he’d had his scan done yesterday. But no matter how much sleep he got, he always woke up feeling even more tired, as though he really had been using his sleep to sing opera, run marathons or do any of the other things that had featured in his dreams these past few days, scaring the living shit out of him.

He groaned again, wondering why the hell the machine hadn’t picked up yet. New item for his shopping list - a silent phone. It wasn’t until he was seriously contemplating using up all the energy he didn’t have either shoving enough aspirin to kill a horse down his throat or unplugging that damn phone, that the machine finally picked up and he heard the voice.

"Hi Bubba, it’s me again, Trish. I guess you’re not screening after all. Or maybe you just don’t wanna talk to me, eh? Whatever. Anyway, it was supposed to be a surprise, but what I would have said if you’d picked up is that I really want to see you and I would have asked if that would be okay. Then if you said yes, I’d ring the doorbell. I’ve been outside your place for two hours now, casing the joint in a rental car, but it’s getting late, so I’m going to have to go find a place to stay. Anyway, I’m no good on machines, I just wanted to tell you why I’ve been stalking you all day. And I’ll be here until Thursday, if you want to give me a call on my cell. Well, I hope you’re feeling better. Bye, Bubba."

From the moment he’d heard her voice, Bubba has been openmouthed and transfixed on the machine. Trish Stratus, the hottest women in the WWE and possibly the world was here in Dudleyville? He must still be dreaming his fucked up concussion dreams. Only one thing. Those dreams were never this good. So that must mean…

"Trish!" he boomed, just pausing long enough to throw on the clothes he’d worn yesterday and had left on the floor of his bedroom, before he sprinted down the stairs and out the front door. "Trish!"

There she was, just getting into a blue coupe.

"Trish!"

She saw him and smiled, giving Bubba proof that he was indeed a Dudley boy. Instant wood. And then she was getting out of the car and walking towards him. Bubba’s head was still pounding, but surely the phrase ‘a sight for sore eyes’ had been created just for this moment. He’d never wanted to see anyone more in his life.

He watched as she unselfconsciously sashayed her hips, a hot little denim miniskirt giving him a great view of her legs to go with the cleavage shot he got from her tight, scoop-necked T-shirt. Like him, she dressed similarly both in and out of the ring, just toning things down a little for day to day wear. Toned down, or not toned down, she was hot!

"Hey table man," she grinned, before wrapping her slender arms around him. She moved closer and kissed his cheek, making him pray she couldn’t feel his hard-on. Still, he doubted that any straight man could possibly be this close to Trish Stratus without getting hard. She was walking, talking pure sex and he’d wanted her for as long as he could remember, but even more so since their simultaneous feuds with Molly Holly and Chris Harvard had made them more or less a team.

Trish released him with a sensual little smile.

"So, how are you?" she asked. "Feeling better?"

"I feel like shit," Bubba told her. "But at least I can walk without falling over now."

"Well, that’s something," Trish nodded. "Now, do you know why I’m here?"

"Not many people come to Dudleyville on purpose," Bubba announced, somewhat cryptically.

"And that’s why I have a purpose," Trish smiled. "I’m here to see you, to make you feel better, and I guess to cheer you up because you look like you need it."

"Have you been talking to Spike?" Bubba asked tiredly.

"Yes," Trish confirmed. "And Tommy, and Rob. Even Booker. They all miss you and are worried about you."

"I know," Bubba replied succinctly. "I have cable. I watched Raw."

"Well, I’ve been elected spokesperson, and official care package, so here I am," Trish smiled, spreading her arms.

‘Care package,’ Bubba thought. ‘You’re one hot little package, that’s for sure.’

He gave her another sweeping glance. Tighter curves than a driving school obstacle course, long blonde hair that would feel amazing trailing along his bare skin if they fucked…and those lips - full, perfect. He’d put money on the fact that, combined with the rest of her mouth, those lips gave incredible head. Just thinking about it made him groan out loud.

"Oh wow, you really are in pain, aren’t you, poor baby?" Trish cooed, but still with an ounce of teasing that stirred Bubba right through. Sympathetic, motherly Trish would have been good enough, but sympathetic spunky Trish was like a dream come true.

"Uh, yeah," he grunted, rubbing the back of his head. "You wanna come in?" He stepped back to open the door.

"Sure," Trish smiled. "Only I left the rest of the care package in the rental. I’ll go get it; you make yourself comfortable, then I’ll come find you, okay?"

"Alright, Trish," Bubba muttered, heading back inside and making it to the living room, where he flopped down on the couch.

This whole situation was one big brainfuck. Trish Stratus, right here in Dudleyville, playing nurse to him in his fragile state, and of course he was too fragile to take advantage of it. His head was a pressure cooker of agony that even his raging hard-on couldn’t dream of overwhelming. Moaning quietly at both of his throbbing heads, he slipped his hand down his body to gently cup the bulge in his pants.

"Trish Stratus," he sighed painfully. "What you do to me."

"Bubba?"

"In here, Trish," he called and she soon appeared, holding a carton that was loaded with shopping bags. She set it down on his coffee table and perched on the very edge of the couch, the rest being taken up by a horizontal Bubba Ray.

"Cute house," Trish commented. "More tables than usual, but I guess that’s a Dudley thing, eh?"

"Housewarming gifts," Bubba hissed as a new wave of pain crashed against his skull.

"You know, most people get toasters," Trish joked, before noticing his grimace. "You’re really not doing so hot, are you?" she asked worriedly.

"It…comes and goes," Bubba replied disjointedly.

"Oh." Trish reached out to lay a comforting hand on his lower leg. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No, never," Bubba blurted, before swallowing some of the pain. "What I mean is…I think I need some aspirin."

"Oh, well I brought Nurofen," Trish told him, springing up. "It works better than aspirin."

She bent at the coffee table and began digging through the care package. Bubba’s gaze instantly fell on her ass. With her bent over like that, he could almost see her panties. He wondered if she was wearing a thong, or maybe a lace bikini. Oh, that ass. Just as curvy and sexy as the rest of her.

"Here you go, table man," Trish said, turning around and handing him a couple of tablets along with a bottle of water, bending over as she did so and giving Bubba the perfect view down her shirt. Oh boy.

"Would you like a foot massage?"

Bubba looked up, wondering if she’d be okay with him staring down her shirt for a few hours instead, before it clicked. Massage. Trish’s hands on him. Soothing massage…erotic massage…Trish…erotic.

"Sounds good," he told her, swallowing down the pills.

"Okay. I’ll just get started."

Soon she sat down again, pulling his feet into her lap. He was too sore and dazed to be self-conscious about his feet as he normally would be, content to feel the coolness of massage oil and then the warm, gentle pressure of Trish’s hands, her fingers working carefully.

"Massage is underrated, you know," Trish was saying. "Especially foot massage. You see, the foot has certain pressure points that act as extensions of all the different regions of the body. By stimulating the rights areas, a good massage can be soothing, healing, or sensual…or maybe all three."

Bubba was gone. In his mind, Trish had stopped with his feet and had begun with her soothing, sensual massage, on his hardened cock. Her hands worked carefully up and down, up and down, and then those full lips of hers surrounded him, wrapping him up in the moist heat of her mouth, giving him the best blowjob of his life.

"You have nice feet, Bubba," Trish told him. "And believe me, that’s a compliment. As far as men’s feet go, yours are very nice. And your legs…I love men’s legs. Long and lean."

Bubba drew in a breath as Trish’s hands moved upwards, gently squeezing his calves.

"Does that feel okay?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "It feels good."

"Good," Trish went on. "And how about this?"

Her hands were on his thighs, on top of his shorts, firm, steady and moving upwards all the time. It just felt so fucking horny, Bubba felt sure it wouldn’t take much more for him to come in his pants, then and there, but that wasn’t to say he wanted her to stop. Oh no. He never wanted her to stop.

"Oh yeah," he sighed.

"Yeah?" Trish echoed. "Feels good?"

"Oh yeah," Bubba said again.

"Uh huh," Trish breathed. "And this? Oh…wow."

Bubba jumped, his face crimson. Trish’s hand had just brushed his erection. She knew. Holy shit, she knew.

"Trish," he gasped. "This isn’t…it’s not…"

"Bubba," Trish called, reaching out and grabbing for his head. "Shut up."

And then she slammed her mouth against his, making him moan again. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, wandering, exploring, teasing and she climbed right on top of him, settling with her legs either side of his waist and her hands moving over the back of his head until he wanted to scream. Bubba kissed her back, only slightly more tentatively, his hands trailing through her thick silken hair even as it tickled the sides of his face while her mouth moved over his.

It seemed like hours before she pulled back, leaving him breathless and hornier than ever.

"Wanna know why I’m really here, Bubba?" Trish asked, sitting up and sliding her hands down to the bottom of her shirt. "I’m here to seduce you." With that, she pulled her shirt off to reveal a hot pink bra, before bending to begin kissing him again, her hair flowing all over the place.

"For months I’ve been staring at you, waiting for you to make a move, to kiss me or grope my ass or anything! But you didn’t and then you got hurt. And I was there last night and you weren’t and I thought, what if this is it? What if you’re really hurt, so bad you can’t come back? What if I never see you again, never get to tell you how much I want you? So now I’m telling you. I want you, Bubba. I wanna fuck you. I want you to fuck me. And right now I’m going to take advantage of you. Okay?"

Before he could even reply, she’d caught his lips in another searing kiss as her hands moved again, this time to his shirt. He went to warn her, went to tell her that his body probably wouldn’t live up to expectations, but his shirt was off before he knew it and she could see for herself.

"Oh Bubba," she sighed, taking him in, her gaze darting up and down.

"I know," Bubba groaned. "I’m a whale."

"A whale?" Trish cried in surprise, breaking into a giggle despite herself. "You’re gorgeous," she stated, kissing him. "And fucking sexy. Mmm, Bubba…" She nibbled on his bottom lip as her hands roamed down his body, the body that embarrassed the hell out of him most of the time.

Bubba sat up, crushing Trish against him.

"You’re so hot," he told her, kissing her harder as though physically trying to fit his entire body down her throat. One of his hands slid down her side to her waist, gently squeezing, but then she placed her hand over his, moving it up to cup her breast.

"Oh, Jesus," Bubba groaned as the swell of her breast filled his hand. Trish’s own hands moved to her back, undoing the clasps of her bra and freeing her breasts into the firm caress of Bubba’s hand.

"Oh Bubba, I want you so bad," Trish blurted, climbing further into his lap and rubbing herself up against him, one hardened nipple teasing its way along his chest with every movement as she ground into his erection until they were both moaning with need.

Bubba bent to kiss Trish’s breasts, his hand sliding up her thigh to squeeze her ass even as she strained against his cock, the friction of their clothes charging him with frustrated impatience. Trish reached down to unzip her boots and kicked them off as Bubba worked on the zip to her skirt, yanking it down. He hauled it off her, then moved his hand over her panties, sliding it between her legs. He palmed her first gently, then more firmly and she wriggled against him, high pitched little moans coming from her throat. Bubba moved his hand again, creeping his fingers inside her panties and over her dampened curls, before slipping between the folds into her moist heat, her internal muscles resisting him. His finger moved, stabbing upwards and she let out a moan, gripping his shoulders tightly. He added another finger, causing her to moan louder, encouraging him on and on…

"Stop."

Bubba froze and lifted his head from Trish’s breasts to find her staring at him, red faced and indignant.

"If I wanted to be finger fucked I’d do it myself," she told him bluntly. "What I actually want is your dick pounding into me hard and fast until we’re screaming each other’s name. Okay?"

She didn’t even wait for his reply, instead urgently undoing his shorts and tearing them off him, letting his achingly hard cock spring free.

"Commando," Trish breathed, running her hand along it just once. "Fantastic. Now, fuck me."

Bubba leaned forward to trap her lips in another intense kiss as he grabbed her hips and lifted her carefully, before lowering her down and making them both moan.

"Oh Bubba," Trish gasped as they began to move into a slow, rolling rhythm.

His hands were on her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust up into her, the resistance wrapping around him with every stroke.

"Uh…so good," he grunted as she quickened her movements, rocking against him hard, harder still.

Trish rode him, tightening her legs around his waist, drawing him in further, her hands alternately grabbing his shoulders, rubbing his chest, pulling him in, deeper, harder. And then she shoved him and he fell back onto the couch, his head bouncing off the arm.

"Arrrgh!" Bubba screamed as the pain devoured him. His hands flew to his head, knocking them both off balance so they rolled off the couch and onto the floor, their bodies still joined.

"Ow," Trish cried out as her side struck the leg of the coffee table, stopping them from rolling further. Bubba was on top of her now and again she wrapped her legs around him so her ankles were joined and her heels dug into his flesh.

"Oh…feels amazing," she gasped, hands now tightly gripping his back. "Oh…more…harder…fuck me harder…"

But all Bubba could feel was the pain, attacking him mercilessly, beating against his brain. But somewhere, somewhere there was pleasure. He could feel it; tiny fragments of ecstasy, a mosaic inside his head. Somewhere…so close. He just had to reach…reach past the pain…

His eyes shot open, wild and agonized. He met her gaze and then they were kissing again, hungrily, furiously, as their bodies slammed together faster, harder. From inside Trish’s mouth he could feel her moans, hear her moans becoming louder, more intense.

"Oh God," he groaned, pleasure and pain waging their war inside his mind. Pain, so much pain, but he kept on pushing, kept on fighting…so close…

"Oh, Bubba!" Trish squealed, squeezing him, compressing him...and the pain was searing, agonizing, but he charged on forward. He could feel it, the barricade…so much pain, tremendous pain. It pulled him down, down, but he raced on ahead. The wall was there…he slammed into it…more, more, harder…

"Oh God, Trish!" he roared, bursting through, bursting forth, the mosaic of ecstasy splintering along with the debris of the barricade, tumbling down until it, like him, found its rest.

He rolled off Trish partway, his arm still slung across her chest and his fingers came to life as warm, gentle waves of pleasure continued to flow through him.

"Trish," he panted. "I’ve wanted you for so long."

"You have?" she asked, languidly stroking his back.

"Oh…yeah."

Suddenly, she shoved him and he fell back against the couch, slightly jarring his head once more.

"Hey," he protested, sitting up with head in hands. "What was that for?"

Trish sat up too, her normally full lips made even fuller from all the kissing they’d done, as well as the fact that she was pouting indignantly.

"If you wanted me so bad you could’ve asked me out."

"Yeah," Bubba muttered, rubbing his head. "You know what girls like you do when guys like me ask them out? They laugh, that’s what."

"What?" Trish cried. "Bubba, you freak. I just fucked you, didn’t I? If you can’t see how sexy you are, that’s fine, but don’t generalize about girls like me and what we want."

"Look, I’m not in the mood for this," Bubba stated, getting to his feet. "My head is throbbing like a damn jackhammer. I’m going to bed."

And with that, he started for the stairs.

He wasn’t even halfway up before she stopped him, grabbing his hand, then slipping past him so she was one step higher and they were practically eye to eye. Slowly, she snaked her arms around his neck and they kissed tenderly as their eyes drifted closed. Bubba lifted her off her feet and into his arms, blindly carrying her right up the stairs and into his room before either of them even took a breath. Still kissing, they fell onto the bed, hands exploring each other’s bodies.

Trish sighed happily as Bubba began kissing her neck.

"You know, I had to stop you," she stated. "It’s not safe to let a concussion patient fall asleep."

"Mmm," Bubba grunted. "So what should we do?"

"Oh, I’m sure we can think of something," Trish told him. "Lie down."

Bubba lifted his head and stared at her curiously.

"Okay, sit up then," Trish ordered, crawling out from under him. "I’m here to make you feel better, remember?"

She rearranged all his pillows so that, when he lay back, he was still propped up, the back of his head not pressing into anything.

"Now," she went on, crawling on top of him. "You relax. Let me make you feel better."

Bubba closed his eyes as Trish kissed him briefly, then began working her way down his body. It felt so good, so relaxing, he could easily imagine himself falling asleep like this…except for one glaring issue. He was hard again already. Well, at least he knew now that a concussion didn’t affect your sex drive. Mind you, anyone would get a hard-on if they had Trish Stratus sucking on their stomach. And then her hands were on his dick and he jumped, startled by how amazing it felt. Her lips brushed across its tip; her tongue tasted him experimentally and then, suddenly, she took him right into her mouth and he nearly screamed.

"Holy shit, Trish!" he cried as she sucked hard and then released him, only to take him down again. She was fingering his balls, alternating fast and slow, hard and soft and Bubba bunched his fists, the intensity not even letting him breathe.

And then the phone rang.

Trish immediately raised her head, leaving Bubba empty and desperate to feel her sucking him again.

"You gonna get that?"

"No," Bubba grunted, shifting his legs. "Machine."

"Oh, okay. Guess I’ll get back to it. But don’t thrust, okay? You’ll choke me. Just let me do the work."

"Okay," Bubba replied as she lowered her head again. "Oh Jesus, Trish. Oh God…oh…so good, Trish. So fucking good…"

Still the phone rang. This time, Trish didn’t lift her head, just her gaze, although she slowed down enough for Bubba to notice a difference.

"Machine," he insisted, burying his hands in her hair, twining them through urgently. "Ah, yeah…yeah…"

Seconds later, the machine clicked into life.

"This is Bubba Ray. I’m not here. Talk to me."

BEEP!

"Hey, big brother, it’s Spike. I’m just calling to see how you’re doing, but I guess you must be receiving some treatment or something like that. Oh, I wanted to tell you. Trish is gonna come see you, bring a care package…"

Just then, Trish stopped what she was doing and sat up against the pressure of Bubba’s hands.

"You know what?" she asked, flipping her now messy hair over her shoulders. "I hate machines."

And with those words, she leaped over to the phone, grabbed the cord and yanked it from the wall, silencing Spike.

"Now," Trish smiled, turning back to Bubba, who was lying on his back and moaning quietly, rendered speechless by an overwhelming need to come. "Where were we?"

Raking her hair back off her face again, she climbed between Bubba’s legs and got back to work.

THE END