Left Inside But You

Wasted thoughts of you
Desperate prayers to you
Give me back my mind
I'm empty inside
What have I become?
Everything's undone
A candle burns here in your honor
My soul a shrine I've built for you
There's nothing left inside me
Nothing left inside but you

Can't seem to pretend
This night needs to end
I can't fill this hole
You are all I know

It's so wrong that I need you
It's so wrong that I need abuse
It's so wrong that I need you
So wrong that I'm scared I'll die alone

I'm waiting for him.

It seems I'm always waiting for him.

I hold my breath to wait and see what his next move will be, but I always end up letting it out when my lungs start to scream for air. It's not just my lungs anymore. Every part of me screams for him, screams for the way he makes me feel.

Alive.

So very much alive, while at the same time, every time he looks at me and calls my name, I feel another part of me die. Soon there won't be anything left. But I know that he'll keep on playing with me, sifting through the ashes left behind until he tires himself and moves on to someone else.

"Kurt."

He says my name with a tone that clearly states ownership, as though no one else could say it correctly. I didn't even hear him come in, but he's standing right in front of me, dark sunglasses over his eyes and long strands of his silky blonde hair falling forward. He bends down, and I automatically turn my face up to him. His hair falls down into my face, sending my way a dose that dark, delicious scent that is his all alone.. Those gold tresses threaten to suffocate me just as he clicks his tongue, leans back, standing up straight again.

"What? No hello kiss?"

I smile a little and stand to kiss him hello, but he shakes his head sternly and pushes me back down roughly. A hand snakes around the back of my head, and he curls his fingers around the back of my neck, pushing me forward until my cheek rests against the bulge in the front of his jeans.

"I want you to kiss me there."

My cheeks flush hotly and I move to pull back a bit, but his hand holds me fast, his fingers clenched and digging into my neck slightly. I have to force to lean back, but he finally gives in and allows me to pull away enough to lift my trembling fingers to undo the button on his jeans and pull down his zipper. He watches me closely, his head tilted to the side slightly, and I hate that I can't see his eyes as they are hidden behind his sunglasses. His eyes always assure me when I start to feel afraid.

I push his jeans down over his hips, sliding my hands over his bronzed flesh, and he groans softly as his semi-hard cock is freed from its restraints. He's absolutely huge--long and thick, with curls slightly darker than the hair on his head around the base. I've seen it a million times, but every time, I wonder how in the world I'm going to be able to fit him all down my throat. He'll make sure I do. I feel his hand cupping the back of my head as I lean forward and pull the tip of his cock into my mouth.

He thrusts his hips forward suddenly and I gag as his cock touches the back of my throat. I can't pull away, his hand holds me fast, and all I can do is relax and try to adjust as my eyes water. He fucks my face insistently, groaning and letting his head fall back as he pushes my head down on him farther. I close my lips around him and let my tongue drag the length of him when he lets me pull back.

I have to struggle to breathe, and I close my eyes as the tears roll over my cheeks. I rub my thumbs over his hip bones and hold on for dear life. His rhythm is fast and erratic, and I fight to adjust every time he rams himself inside my mouth. His groans and grunts are the only sound that breaks the cold air of the room, and I feel my stomach start to churn a little.

It's over a moment later. I feel him tense, and he rips back from me abruptly, one hand still on the back of my neck as he moves the other to stroke himself feverishly, giving a gutteral moan as the first spurt of his hot cum splashes out onto my cheek. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, knowing what he wants. He groans again as his creamy fluid shoots out of his spasming cock, and I can feel it landing all over me. He puts his hand against my lips and I cautiously open my eyes.

He's looking down at me, and I can finally see his eyes because his sunglasses are laying on the floor beside his feet. The hazel eyes that burn with such intensity are glazed over with lust as he looks down at me, and I flick my tongue out to obediantly clean his hand. He doesn't even have to tell me anymore. I immediately know what to do, what to do to keep him happy.

Which is the only thing in my life that I know I have to do no matter what.

Once his hand is clean he tucks himself back in and zips up his jeans, bending to fetch his sunglasses from the floor. He gives me a look before slipping them back over his eyes, a look of approval mingled with disgust. He pats my cheek lightly, like he's looking down at a child.

"Good, Kurt. Very good." His hand slides over my cheek, smearing the remains of his cum that are still there. "You're such a pretty little cum slut, aren't you? My pretty little cum slut."

I nod my head weakly, my eyes never leaving his. "Yours, Hunter. All yours."

His fingers clamp down hard around my neck and he pulls me forward for a rough, brusing kiss that leaves me aching for him and panting breathlessly as he pulls away. I utter a soft whimper before I know what I'm doing, and I feel the stinging slap against my cheek an instant later.

He glares down hard at me, and I can see him shaking with fury. "You fucking know better than that, Kurt. You deserved that. You know that, don't you?"

I nod, my cheek burning from where he slapped me. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and I realize that I bit down hard on my tongue. "I know it, Hunter. I'm sorry."

He just stares at me, then shakes his head and pushes me away roughly. "You disgust me. I can't even look at you." He stalks to the door and throws it open, slamming it hard behind him.

He's long gone by the time the sobs rip through me.

They all look at me in the halls and they all give me this look of pity and shame, then quickly avert their eyes. I don't have to have "Property of Hunter Hearst Helmsley" tattooed across my forehead for them to know what goes on behind the closed doors of hotel rooms and locker rooms. They can see it in the way I walk and talk, in the way that my eyes darken slightly when his name is mentioned, the way I slink away from physical contact with anyone but him. I know better than that. No one touches me because Hunter would go postal on them.

It's a frightening thing to wake up and know that you don't live your life for yourself anymore. I take each breath knowing that it's Hunter I'm living for. I belong to him mind, body, and soul, and the fact that I know that makes it so much easier for him. He broke me down slowly, until all that was left of me was a shell to hold him in. He's inside me as sure as the blood in my veins, and no matter how much I cut myself to get him out, he only leaks and drips in small amounts before I heal and he's trapped inside again.

I'll never get him out of me totally. He's there for good, and I've learned to live with him being there.

I knew from the beginning that he was out to possess every part of me. That first night, under the pretenses of a casual dinner, we wound up back in his hotel room, me pressed up tightly against the wall as he fucked me ragged for the first time.

I wanted it...I screamed and begged for it, and when I got it, I knew that I wanted it over and over for the rest of my life.

He'd take me whenever he felt like it, no matter where we were. I could be walking down the hall on my way out to a match, and he'd come out of nowhere, slam me up against a wall, or a door, or bend me over a catering table and fuck me til I could barely walk, let alone go on through a match.

He'd just ram himself inside of me and fuck me until I couldn't breathe. And when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he'd just keep going, ripping me apart and searing me down to the very bottom of my soul, leaving an indelible mark that branded me as his.

I knew from the moment he asked me to dinner that it wasn't going to be a normal relationship. It couldn't be, not with someone like Hunter. He's commanding, he's dangerous, he's aggressive--he wants and needs someone he can control and use the way he wants. He wants a punching bag to fuck senseless.

And leave it to me to be just that for him.

Sometimes I feel totally alone in the world because of the isolation he's forced me into. I can't ride with anyone else. I can't sit and eat with anyone else. Aside from sanctioned matches, I basically can't associate with anyone. Hunter says it will give me ideas. He says I'll forget that I belong to him.

It's a little hard to forget someone when you've got their symbol burned into your skin.

On the inside of my left wrist, there is a faint scar in the shape of three H's placed side by side. He has a pin, and one night, he grabbed my arm, heated the pin with a lighter and pressed it into my skin three times, leaving me with three perfect representations of his namesake. It healed nicely and now every time I look down, I see the scar staring back at me.

I know my place, I know who I belong to, and I know that I will never forget it.

"Kurt?"

The voice that calls my name isn't Hunter, and it's almost strange to hear another voice saying it. I look up and find myself staring into the fierce blue eyes of Steve Austin, and I smile up at him wearily. "Hey, Steve. Do you need something?"

He gestures to the chair beside me. "Is anyone sitting here? I'd like to talk about our match tonight."

I look around a bit nervously, then shake my head. "No one's sitting there. Please sit."

He smiles, showing a hint of dimples then turns the chair around backwards and sits in it, absently rubbing at the black tape around his wrists. "So you clear on how it's supposed to go down tonight?"

I nod. "Pretty much. It's nothing I can't handle."

He nods and then tilts his head to the side a little. "You okay, Kurt?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answer much too quickly. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

Steve shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know. You just look nervous, that's all. Anxious, sort of."

"No, I'm fine, really," I reply, fidgeting in my chair. That's when I decide to look up and across the catering room, and see Hunter standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me and watching me intently. My heart drops onto the floor and bounces back up, making me feel light-headed. "Steve...I have to go..."

He looks up at me in confusion. "Why? What's the matter?"

I don't even have a chance to answer him before Hunter stalks around the table and stands in front of me, glaring down at Steve. "What the fuck are you doing, Austin?"

Steve looks up at him and visibly swallows, shifting uncomfortably under his hard glare. "Nothin', Helmsley. Talking to Kurt about our match tonight."

Hunter doesn't look convinced, and I look away, biting my lip. "Yeah, well, your talk is over. Move the fuck along."

Steve stands up, shaking his head, but doesn't say anything more. He gives me a slight nod, then disappears into the crowd of people filing in to eat a quick dinner before the show. I don't even look up at Hunter. My punishment will come later.

All I can do is wait for it.

"I hope your little talk with Austin was worth it, you little bitch," Hunter growls into my ear as he pins me on the bed with his weight. I'm on my stomach, my cheek pressed hard into the mattress and he nips roughly at my earlobe with his teeth. "I hope you really fucking enjoyed it."

I close my eyes as I feel the head of his cock nudging against me. I know what's coming, but still some part of me says that he won't do it. It's the same part of me that believes that Hunter is a good person behind all that anger and agression. He really does love me, but this is the only way he can show it. Behind those flashing hazel eyes is the heart of a man who can't love himself, so he can't allow himself to love anyone else. He does these things to me because it's the only way he knows how to let it out.

He pushes into me quick and hard, and I can't contain the wail that escapes my trembling lips. It hurts so bad...so fucking bad, but I bite my lip so hard I feel the gentle flesh tearing and soon I'm tasting my own blood again. Hunter buries himself deep inside me, and it feels like he's tearing me in half. The pain is hot and sharp, and it shoots up my body until I can feel it exploding behind my eyes. I moan into the bed covers and this only drives him harder.

"You're such a fucking slut, Kurt. You know that? You're a nasty goddamn slut, and you're going to get fucked like one! You hear me!?! You're a slut, Kurt! Do you fucking hear me!?!"

He thrusts into me pointedly as if to get my attention, as if I can ignore the searing pain that shoots through me with every movement he makes.

"Answer me, bitch! You fucking answer me!"

"I hear you," I whisper, though the words come out half-choked. He thrusts into me hard again. "I hear you!" I say louder, lifting myself up off the bed a little so the words aren't muffled.

"Say it, Kurt! Fucking say it! Say 'I'm a slut!' Say 'I'm a dirty fucking slut!'"

His voice is scratchy and rough, and the sound of his words sends shivers through me. "I'm a slut," I say through clenched teeth.

"Louder, goddamn you!"

"I'm a slut!!" I scream so loud the whole hotel can probably hear me.

He's thrusting again, setting an fast, grinding pace, and I feel myself start to bleed. I close my hands around fistfuls of the comforter, trying my damnedest not to cry. I can't cry. I've got no tears left to cry for him. My tears will come later when he's left or finally fallen asleep. My tears are the only thing I've got left that I can keep private from him. He doesn't deserve them.

My luck it would only piss him off more.

I can feel his nails raking down the flesh of my back, and I involuntarily arch into his touch, not from pleasure, but from the intense heat his nails create against my flesh. He does it again and again, scratching my skin raw. I can feel his hair brushing over my shoulders as his head falls forward and he lets out a loud groan as he quickens his thrusts and then slows them, pulling almost all the way out of me each time and then ramming himself back in.

"You want to fuck Austin, Kurt? Is that what you two were talking about? You want to fucking leave me for him?"

"No," I answer, and then I feel his fist connect solidly with the base of my spine.

"You shut your fucking mouth! You're a lying bitch! I saw the way you were looking at him! You want him to fuck you, Kurt?!? Is that what you want?"

"No," I whisper again, and I feel him drive his fist into my spine again. The pain is dull now, and it slips up my body, resting in the pit of my stomach. I want to cry from the intensity of it, but I don't. I won't.

"Yeah, you want him to fuck you, don't you, Kurt? You want his big cock inside you instead of mine, don't you?"

He falls silent for a few long moments, thrusting hard and fast into me, and I can feel that slow burn building inside me, the bittersweet pleasure he's coupling with blinding pain.

"He wouldn't want to fuck a disgusting slut like you, Kurt. Not after I get done with you. Nobody will want to fuck you." I feel his stomach pressing against my back, and he's pushed in farther than any of the times before, so far I feel like he's thumping against my gall bladder as he gives a few short, quick thrusts. "You're mine, bitch. Mine until I say I'm done with you. It doesn't end until *I* say it ends."

A few more quick thrusts into me, each of them ripping me further, and then I feel him tense and the warmth of his cum floods through me. He immediately pulls out and rolls me over, and I wince as his weight pushes me into the mattress. He crawls over me like some furious predator, a huge golden cat that wants to tear me to shreds. His eyes slide over me slowly, and I fight not to fidget under his gaze and look away.

I want to scream and kick when I see him lean over to the nightstand and pull out the heavy leather straps, but I don't make a sound or move a muscle as he winds them around my wrists and secures them to the headboard. They dig into my skin terribly, and I have to lay totally slack so they don't pull. It makes my shoulders so sore it's nearly unbearable.

All those thoughts disappear when he levels his eyes on me again, lowering his head so that our faces are inches apart. His breath is hot on me, and for the first time, I notice that he smells like tequila. That explains it. He's always more intense when he's been drinking. The smell makes my stomach churn, but I know better than to look away.

"You brought this on yourself, Kurt. You forced me to do it. Why do you always make me hurt you like this?"

I don't answer because I know he doesn't want one. I know why I always make him hurt me though. I know exactly why I do it.

It's the only way I know I'm still alive.

Just as I expected, the next morning, I can barely move. Hunter stayed and slept beside me, then freed my wrists sometime before he left. I wake up sprawled out across the bed, my shoulders as stiff as they've ever been been, and every other part of me in just as much pain. I manage to stumble to the shower, and I stay under the nearly scalding hot water for almost half an hour, hoping it will ease the screaming in my muscles and joints.

I barely make it to the arena, and I manage to make it to Vince's office to explain that there's no way I can handle my match for the night. I make up some excuse about a nagging back injury that has bothered me for a while, and thankfully he bought it. I get to run in and smash Steve with a chair during a promo and that's it. That's probably the best thing for the situation anyway. The less contact with Steve, the better.

Hunter comes in late and stalks down the hallway toward me. I freeze immediately and my mouth goes dry. He stops short in front of me and kisses me chastely on the lips. "I had too much to drink last night. You know that, right?"

I nod, unable to look him in the eye as I try to ignore the looks from the people around us. "I know, Hunter. I understand, and I deserved it. I'm sorry."

He smiles a little, and honestly, that is sometimes scarier than the look he gets in his eye just before he screams at me. Still waters run deep, I guess. "It's good you realize that." He shifts his duffel bag on his shoulder a little. "Dinner after the show."

I nod again and finally manage to swallow the lump in my throat. He smiles again and gives me another quick kiss. "See you later, baby."

I have to take deep breaths not to throw up when he calls me that. My shoulders start to ache again, so I take my leave and head to the locker room where I can sit and groan in pain with no one to look at me. I can't stand them always watching me like that, like I'm some damn science experiment gone horribly wrong.

The fact is they don't know what it's like to be in my shoes so their opinions don't mean a damn thing to me.

They act like I can just pick myself up and walk away--like I can wake up one day and say, "You know, Hunter...I just don't feel like being your toy anymore. Find someone else." Oh, yeah, that would go over just perfectly. I can see Hunter now, and frankly I'd rather not imagine it.

Because I know that if I tried to leave him, he'd kill me.

He's told me that a million times, and somewhere along the line, I started to realize that he was serious. It doesn't end until he says it does. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll get tired of me and send me on my way. Then I might get to live a normal life again, though it's been so long that I hardly remember what a normal life is like.

"Kurt?"

That scratchy voice breaks through my thoughts and I look up toward the door to find myself staring at Steve in horror. "Steve, what are you doing here!?!"

He slips inside the door, shutting it behind him and clasps his hands in front of him like he's nervous. "I just wanted to come and see if I caused you any trouble with Hunter yesterday. He seemed pretty intent on kicking my ass."

I look down, pretending to adjust my kneepad. "No, you didn't. It was nothing. He was just having a bad day." I look back up, trying to get him to notice the urgency in my voice. "But you've got to get out of here before he comes back here and sees you."

He sighs and immediately disregards my words by sitting on the bench across from me. "Kurt, I'm not going to run and hide every time I come to talk to you just because Hunter might get mad. Let him try and beat my ass. I don't care."

It's not your ass I'm worried about, I think bitterly then lean foward to pick the roll of tape up off the floor, groaning loudly as I stretch my shoulder farther than I'm able. I see Steve sit up straighter and look at me strangely.

"Kurt, are you all right?" he asks in a quiet voice.

I panic for a moment before straightening up with another, more quiet groan. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. My shoulders are just a little sore. Worked them too hard in the gym yesterday."

When I finally have the nerve to look at him, he's watching me with skepticism nearly dripping out his eyes like tears. "Let me see your wrists, Kurt."

That's when my stomach drops to the floor. "What!?!"

He holds out a hand and stares at me intently. "Let me see your wrists."

My hands are shaking as I extend them palm down, chewing my lip and wincing slightly as I'm reminded that I nearly bit it in two the night before. He takes my hands gently, barely touching them and turns them over. The red marks from where the straps dug into my flesh run all the way around my wrists, and I hear him suck in his breath. "Jesus, Kurt. I'm sorry. I didn't think about him using the straps. I'm so fucking sorry."

I just stare at him, my heart pounding so loud I can barely hear what he's saying. "How...how did you know?"

He turns his eyes up to me, suddenly looking very guilty. After a deep sigh, he reaches and tugs at the tape around his wrists, wadding it into a ball before tossing it a side. It takes him a moment, but then he extends his arm and turns his hand palm-side up.

I can see the three H's neatly printed across his wrist, a little faded, but still plainly visible.

And this changes everything.

I just stare at him, blinking and hardly believing what he's just shown me. "You? You and Hunter?"

He nods slowly, his blue eyes looking so much darker than when he first came in. "Yeah, a while back. Just before the two of you got together. He let me go when you and he started."

I look down, so close to tears that I can almost taste them. "Steve...I had no idea..."

He shrugs, reaching for the roll of tape in my hand to re-wrap his wrist. "Not many people did. I don't even think about it now--at least, I didn't until I realized that he was doing the same thing to you. Then I started to think about it all the time, and I could remember what I felt like when it was happening to me."

He looks up a little, something akin to mortification settling over him. "I always felt so guilty about being happy that I was away from him because I knew that you were going through the same thing. I felt like a piece of shit for being glad that it wasn't happening to me anymore."

I shake my head. "Steve, you're not a bad person because of that. It's natural to feel that way. If I ever get away from him, I'm sure I'll feel the same way."

Steve shrugs. "I guess you're right, but it don't make me feel any better about it."

There is a long pause before he speaks again, and when he does, his voice is laced with concern, and I don't feel the shame anymore when I looks at me. "If you want to talk to someone who understands, you can talk to me, Kurt. I'm not going to tell anyone, and I know what you're going through. It might help."

The tears are closer now, just behind my eyes. "How did you get through it?"

He lets out a long breath. "I honestly don't know, Kurt. I really couldn't tell you. I just did."

Now I look at him differently. Steve and I have a bond now, a bond that separates us from everyone else. He knows what it's like to be so thoroughly possessed by someone that you don't remember belonging to yourself. He doesn't give me those intrusive eyes of all the others who look at me and shake their heads with a patronizing click of the tongue. I can trust him. I can relax around him.

"Well, isn't this just a pretty little sight?"

Oh, God.

We both turn to look at the door where Hunter is standing in just his wrestling trunks, his wrists heavily taped. He throws his hair over his shoulder and stalks into the room, his eyes on me. "And I actually thought you learned your lesson, Kurt. You're more stupid than I thought."

"Helmsley, just cut the shit," Steve says suddenly, standing up so that he's between Hunter and me. "You know nothing is going on. Kurt and I are friends, and you're reading too much into it."

The smack that Hunter lays across Steve's cheek sounds like a gunshot, and I gasp, my eyes going wide. Steve turns his head back, the corner of his mouth bleeding, and Hunter glares at him. "You might not be mine anymore, Austin, but you're still a bitch. You always did have a smart mouth. Now get the fuck out of here before I give you more than just a reprimand."

Steve's eyes flip to me, and Hunter lays into him again, this time leaving a dull red mark across Steve's face. "Don't look at him. Just leave."

Steve doesn't try him a third time. He gives him one last deadly glare before walking out, his head and shoulders high, but the humilation still apparent. I jump when the door shuts and force myself to look back at Hunter. His eyes are blank and empty, and I just want to run out into the hall and pray someone finds me before Hunter gets a hold of me.

"Get changed. You're not doing your run-in. You're going back to the hotel right this fucking instant."

"But, Hunter, I can't. Vince said--"

His hands shoot out and he shoves me hard, a wince escaping me as I slam into the wall, tripping over my gear. My head smacks against the cold concrete of the locker room walls, and a pain shoots forward to the front of my skull, making my stomach turn over. He pins my shoulders back with his fists, and I have to fight not to scream as the dull ache turns into sharp, stabbing agony, my muscles wailing as he puts pressure on them.

"You've got a smart mouth, just like your wannabe fuck buddy," he growls, kissing me hard and biting down on my already split lip. I taste the blood mixing with our saliva as he shoves his tongue nearly down my throat, and I know that I'm trembling against him. He pulls back and licks my blood off his lips with another growl that sends shivers up my spine. "I'll just have to teach you the same way I taught him, though I doubt that you'll be missed if I put you out for a year the way I did him..."

I shudder uncontrollably at his words, and finally he releases me, my shoulders already stiffening again. "Get your shit and get your ass back to the hotel. You'd better be ready for me when I get back. We've got a long night ahead of us, Kurt." He drops his voice to a pitch just above a whisper but deadly enough that I don't question it. "And I assure you, after tonight, you won't ever want to see Steve Austin again."

As soon as he's gone, the tears start, and by the time I'm scrambling out of the arena to my rental car, I'm sobbing hysterically. I'm crying because it's the only thing I know to do. I think about missing the exit to the hotel and just going, driving until I run out of gas so Hunter can't find me. I almost laugh at myself--Hunter would find me anywhere I tried to go. He's inside my skin, and I can't escape him. He knows me better than I know myself.

I park the car at the hotel and blindly stumble up the stairs to my room, already worried about what Hunter is going to do to me. I'm afraid to reflect too much on his words--he has a way of getting into your head and staying there long after he's left. His words bounce around in my head, pinging the back of my skull like the balls in a pinball machine. Somehow I manage to find my room, sliding the key into the lock and stumbling inside as I throw my bag down and collapse on the bed.

I can't breathe. My lungs are screaming as my chest heaves, and I can't calm down. It's gone too far this time. I've let it get so out of hand and I'm going to pay dearly for it. Then a part of me says to just let Hunter do his worst and get it over with. Then I can pick myself up and start over, only to repeat the whole vicious cycle again. There's no way out of this one for me.

I've got to die to escape him.

I've thought about suicide before, but I don't want to die. I love my life, at least I did before Hunter made it *his* life. I was happy until Hunter and I started, and I think if I could just get away from him, I could be happy again. I just don't know anymore. The lines have become so blurred that it's hard to see where one half ends and the other begins. Black and white simply don't exist anymore. It's all gray--ten different shades of it, but gray all the same.

The knock at the door is so sharp and sudden that I nearly fall off the bed in suprise. I pick myself up and look in the mirror, sighing miserably at my red eyes and hope that whoever it is will just go away. I cross to the door and throw it open, my hands still shaking slightly.

They start to shake even more when my eyes meet Steve's as he stands in the hallway.

"Are you crazy!?!" I shout immediately. "Hunter will kill you and me both if he finds you here! You've got to leave."

He shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Kurt. There's something that needs to be done first."

"What are you talking about--"

My words die in my throat as he steps forward and kisses the hell out of me.

I don't even try to fight it. I can't fight it. I want it, and I need it, and goddammit, I think I deserve it. He's all I've got to hold onto now. He's the only one that understands, that knows what it's like, and he knows that I need to be held and loved just the way he needed it when he was in my place. We need each other, and at the moment, that need far outweighs any sense of reason that would be telling us that we were making the only mistake left to make in the situation, and coincidentally, the worst one to be made.

Hunter is probably going to hurt us for this, but I'd rather him do his worst after Steve makes love to me than without having the chance to do it at all.

A soft moan rises up in my throat as he walks me back into the room, his hands cradling my face gently as he pushes his tongue past my lips slowly, and he kicks the door shut with his foot. My aching muscles are screaming but I ignore it. I hardly notice it as Steve kisses me and gently eases me down to the bed, pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing it aside before going to work on my track pants.

I immediately know that I'm too sore for this. Hunter really did a number on me, and Steve knows it, too. He can see it in my eyes, and I've got a feeling he remembers what it was like. "Don't worry, darlin'. I'm not going to hurt you."

At this point, I'd rather him hurt me. The pain would be worth it. But I see it set in his eyes, and it's not going to go that far tonight. My disappointment is immediately forgotten when his hands start to slide over my skin, so gently that I can barely feel it, but enough to send shivers through me. His touch is slow and delicate, as though he's afraid I'm going to break beneath his fingers. He watches me the entire time as I writhe and moan, wanting more than just his hands on me.

"You're beautiful, Kurt," he whispers, his lips suddenly moving against my throat. "You deserve so much better than you get."

As much as I'd love to respond with something just as moving, I can barely concentrate on what he's saying as he touches me. It's been so long since someone has done this to me. I can't remember the last time sex was about pleasing me, and I'm enjoying this without feeling guilty or selfish.

Steve is still fully clothed, and the feeling of him pressed gently against me like that is too delicious for words. The demin of his shorts scrapes against my thighs, and I just can't get enough of him. His smell, the way his blue eyes sparkle as his lips travel across every inch of my skin, the soft way he sighs every so often and looks up at me to smile--he's everything that Hunter isn't.

He's everything I wish Hunter was.

"Darlin', are you all right?" His voice cuts through my moment of reflection, and I look down to see that he's wedged himself between my knees and is looking up at me with obvious concern.

I nod. "I'm wonderful, Steve. Absolutely wonderful."

He smiles brilliantly and then rubs his hands down my thighs, kneading them gently. I swear, every nerve ending on my body is standing on end, and I want to scream and beg him to just do *something* before I go crazy. Finally...*finally* I feel him lean in closer, and when I feel that first swipe of his tongue up the length of my twitching and aching cock, I want to sing the "Hallelujah Chrous." My fingers dig into his shoulders lightly, and I fight not to arch my hips into his mouth.

I can feel him smile around me, and his fingers lightly grasp the base of my cock, stroking it as he begins to bob his head, swirling his tongue around the head. My eyes involuntarily roll back slightly in my head, and I can't contain the moans and groans coming from me. I almost don't know how to act because it's been so long since this has happened to me. I feel every movement his tongue makes along my cock, savoring each one then moving onto the next.

I try to hold out to enjoy it as long as I can, but I'm too on edge to do anything but wail harshly as I come hard, flooding his mouth, and he drinks it down slowly and eagerly, then cleans every bit off of me, murmuring things I can hardly hear, but don't really have to. I feel him slide up my body, kissing every part of me he can reach, and I purr and moan, relishing his every touch. He kisses me long and hard, and the taste of my own essence mixed with that dark, rich flavor of his mouth makes me a little light-headed.

He pulls away and looks at me, those blue eyes searching my features. "I wish I could make love to you."

I smile and nod and kiss him lightly. "Just hold me tonight, Steve. We can get to that another night. Please, just hold me. I need it. I need you."

He nods and rolls to my side, spooning against my back and wrapping his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. I can feel his heart beating and it vibrates against his chest, through my back until I can feel it rattling my rib cage. His lips play along the back of my neck and he nuzzles me affectionately, pulling the blankets up over us and giving a soft contented sigh. When he finally does speak, it's in a voice just above a whisper but I hear him clear as day.

"I love you."

I stiffen immediately in his arms. "What?" I reply, knowing exactly what he said, but not sure if he actually said it.

"I love you, Kurt," he repeats, his lips moving against my shoulder. "I've loved you since the moment I saw you, and that's the reason Hunter wanted you so bad. He wanted to make me miserable, and the quickest way to do that was to get what I wanted for himself."

My heart starts to beat more quickly, and I suddenly find myself fighting to breathe. He's telling me he loves me, and Hunter is probably going to walk in at any minute and find us here. The words mean so much, but what timing he's got. "Steve..."

He shakes his head, cutting me off. "You don't have to say anything back, Kurt. I don't expect you to love me back. I just had to tell you. You had to know why I've done everything I have, and put you in danger with Hunter. It wasn't just because I'm a concerned friend, Kurt. I love you, and I couldn't live another day without telling you."

He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

And I think I might love him back.

Could things get any worse??

Hunter didn't show up last night. I'm relieved by that and unsettled by it at the same time. It's not like him not to show up, especially with how mad he was. It's a little too strange for me, which only adds to the surreal feeling of the whole day. Steve left my room early in the morning, and when he left, I wanted to beg him to stay. It felt so empty sleeping in my bed alone, when I should be used to it by now. My heart left with him, and I'm sure that it will only come back to me when I see him again.

This is not good. It's so not good that it's beyond bad.

By the time that I arrive at the arena, I have decided that I'm going to come clean and tell Hunter what happened the night before. I have to. I've got to get away, and now that I've got someone and something worth getting away for, it's got to be now or never.

I don't know if it will work out with Steve, but hearing him say he loved me--that makes me want to take the chance and try. I've got to be able to at least try to make myself happy, and after so long in misery, it's about time that I try to do it.

I'm expecting the worst. I've prepared myself for anything he might do. I'm expecting one hell of a beating at the very least. Beatings I can take. I've taken them from him for so long, it's second nature now. I can handle his name-calling and his harsh words because that's basically all I've ever heard from him directed at me. I can do this. I can beat him.

I can play the Game and win.

I find out that he's already in his dressing room, relaxing before his match, and it takes me fifteen minutes just to screw up enough courage to knock on the door. His gruff voice beckons me in, and with a shaking hand, I turn the knob and push it open. He's sitting across the room, and when his eyes fall on me, he immediately looks away. "What the fuck do you want?"

I slip into the room and shut the door behind me, my heart thumping against my ribcage so loud I'm almost sure Hunter can hear it. I take a few steps closer to him, my eyes focused on the floor and my cheeks burning. "I just came to see if everything is all right. I waited for you all night, but you didn't come over."

He lets out a short laugh, lifting his eyes to stare at the wall across from him. "Did you miss me, Kurt?"

I know better than to answer that. I swallow hard and shift from one foot to the other, clasping my hands behind my back. "I was just wondering what happened to you, that's all."

"I got tied up with Vince if you must know," he answers shortly. "He wanted me to talk about an upcoming storyline with him and we ended up going for drinks." He finally does look up at him, his eyes cold and hard. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

"Well...I didn't know...I mean, something could have happened to you..." my voice trails off. He's not listening anyway. It takes me another moment to find my voice. "I didn't spend last night alone, Hunter."

His eyes narrow to thin slits and he peers at me, looking almost puzzled. "Oh, and let me guess who you spent the night with..."

My hands start to shake a little more, and I squeeze them together more tightly behind me. "I spent last night with Steve."

A low hiss comes from him, and his eyes narrow even further until they almost seem to disappear. "Do you do this shit *just* to piss me off, Kurt?"

It's that voice that terrifies me, the one that scratches the back of his throat and tickles mine. This time, I don't feel the tickle at all, and I'm not half as scared as I usually am. "No, Hunter. This is not about that at all."

"Oh, and what's this about then?" He sounds almost as though he's mocking me, as though what I'm saying means absolutely nothing to him. It doesn't mean anything to him, I realize, because I'm not a person in his eyes--I'm a possession, and possessions are nothing more than things to set aside until you're ready to play with them. It seems he's not in the mood to play with me.

Well, that's just too fucking bad because he's going to play with me whether he likes it or not.

"It's about the fact that you're not going to use me anymore, Hunter," I declare boldly, my blood starting to flow faster. It's that adrenaline rush that keeps me going when the look he gives me would otherwise make me stop dead in my tracks like a deer in the headlights. "I'm done being your play thing, and I want out."

"You want out?" he echoes, a smile tugging up the sides of his mouth. "You want out, Kurt?"

I nod firmly. "We're done. I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm going to see who I want, when I want, and I'm not going to be seeing you anymore."

"And you just think it's over like that? You think that you're just going to walk out of here and that's that?" he asks, standing up to his full height, which makes me a little nervous. "And let me guess, Austin is going to be your knight in shining armor, and he's going to drive you off into the sunset in his pick-up truck? You two are going to live happily ever after and all of that bullshit?"

"I don't know," I answer immediately. "I don't know what's going to happen, but I want the chance to find out. Steve wants me, and I want to be able to find out on my own if I want him back."

"Austin doesn't want you," he replies, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Nobody wants you, Kurt. You're damaged goods. You're not worth the lube it takes to fuck you. Austin doesn't want you, Kurt."

"You don't know anything about he and I," I answer, shaking my head. "You don't know a damn thing."

"I know that nobody really wants a pathetic little slut like you," he snarls. "They want you for the only thing you're good for, and that's being flat on your back, and once they get that, they move onto the next. Austin sees you for what you really are and that's a good piece of ass that's already trained to stare at the ceiling and not say a word."

"He loves me, Hunter!" I shout, my words cutting through the air so sharply I can almost feel it. "He loves me, and I think I love him! He wants me for everything you never cared about, and I don't give a good goddamn if he does leave me once he gets what you say he's after. If that's what happens, then I'll deal with it, but I'm going to get the chance to find that out, and you're not going to use me any more! This is my fucking life, and I'm going to live it. He loves me, Hunter. God knows you never did because I don't think you're capable of love. He loves me."

He blinks and stays silent for a few antagonizingly long moments. I just stare at him, a feeling of victory surging through me. My heart is racing faster than before and I have the urge to bounce off the walls. I've done it. I've managed to shock him into speechlessness. It's almost over. It won't be long now. He lifts his head and locks eyes with me.

And laughs.

He nearly laughs his fucking head off, the sound of it bouncing off the lockers and hitting me square in the chest. My cheeks flush and I feel like a complete idiot, and all the while he just keeps on laughing.

"What's so funny about that?" I ask, gritting my teeth as the fury inside me threatens to bust out of my eyeballs.

His laugh turns into a soft chuckle and he steps toward me. I move to defend myself until I see that he's pulling up his sleeve. He's not going to hit me, and I feel a moment of relief.

That is until he pulls up his sleeve and turns his arm toward me, showing me the plain as day light scars of the letters SCSA imprinted on the inside of his wrist.

And it is rather funny, now that I think about it.