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Shelley spits at him and he sees red. It’s bad enough going up against someone who won’t fight fair, all low blows and underhanded tactics, but Sabin feels like a little respect is the least he could ask for. Spitting at him like a fucking child is just uncalled for.
The rest of the match is a blur of rage, red tinged and brittle, but he makes sure to make eye contact with Shelley as he pins Divine for the win, his animosity toward Nash overruled by the urge to repay Shelley’s pettiness with a little of his own. The only way it could have been sweeter was if it was Shelley himself on the mat below him, but the look on his face was almost as good.
And then they’re backstage and the rest of the locker room has already cleared out but he can still taste that anger on his tongue and he finally gets his hands on Shelley, one on his shoulder to spin him around and one on his chest, slamming him back against the lockers.
Shelley yelps, an undignified sound that he visibly regrets as Sabin leans his weight into the hand that’s almost but not quite at his throat, and he thinks maybe that’s a bit of real fear in Shelley’s eyes as he realizes they’re alone, the rest of the locker room empty. Sabin has the upper hand for once.
Part of him is tempted to shift his hand the last inch it would take to wrap it around Shelley’s throat, really scare him, but even this angry, that’s not his style. He contents himself with getting in his face, almost nose to nose.
Shelley’s hands are up, a half aborted attempt to push him off. “Hey! Dude, what the fuck?” He sounds scared, and like he’s trying to hide it, layers of false bravado, a performance of his usual arrogance. Sabin basks in it for a moment, savors having one over on the man who has been the bane of his fucking existence for months.
“What the fuck was that? Gonna spit in my face? What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” He uses the hand on Shelley’s shoulder to shake him a bit.
“Whoa, whoa! Don’t you think this is a bit of an overreaction? It was just a joke, y’know? Just fuckin’ with you a bit, hey?” Shelley keeps trying to wriggle free until Sabin leans more of his weight into the hand on his chest, at which point he freezes with a deer in the headlights look on his face, and goes almost limp against the metal behind him.
Suddenly he smirks, and his posture gets a little looser, less like he’s cowering and more like he’s lounging, fear abruptly replaced with a smug self-confidence that Sabin wants to punch off his face. “Oh, I get it. You want me to make it up to you? Stroke your uh, wounded ego?” He darts a glance down, as if there was any mistaking what he meant.
For a second Sabin genuinely thinks he will punch him, and then he has to lean back out of Shelley’s space because he’s laughing so hard he almost can’t stay upright. Shelley looks offended, which just makes him laugh more.
“Man, there is something seriously fucking wrong with you. What the hell, bro?” Shelley quickly goes from offended to a look that is best described as pouting, and Sabin is near hysterical just looking at him. “No, really, what the fuck? Did you just offer to, what? Give me a shitty hand job in the locker room as repayment for spitting in my fucking face? Dude, you are messed up.”
“You’re the one that got all up in my space, who am I to deny you what you clearly wanted.” Shelley shrugs, aiming for derisive but still looking a bit like someone just kicked his puppy. “Or maybe you had something else in mind, huh? Want me on my knees? I’ll be a good sport about it.” And there’s something about his face when he says it, like maybe it isn’t entirely a ploy to fuck with Sabin’s head, like maybe he’s thought about this before, that brings Sabin up short for a moment.
“Oh, fuck off, man.” But now the thought is there, rattling around in his head. Shelley at his feet, smart mouth occupied with something productive for once, how satisfying it would be to see him choke—
He cuts himself off there, shaking his head like he can physically dislodge the image, and Shelley smirks like he can read Sabin’s mind.
“That’s it, huh? Wanna put me in my place, work out a little of that anger? After all, I probably deserve it after all the trouble I’ve caused you.” They’re roughly the same height but Shelley is still managing to look up at him, and the way he’s still leaning against the locker at his back is unmistakable. Sabin should walk away, pretend this conversation never happened, but the look on Shelley’s face is bordering on needy, like he wants what he’s offering, and Sabin knows he isn’t going to say no.
Doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy either. He had no idea Shelley wanted him like this, and he intends to use this new knowledge to get a little of his own back after the months of frustration.
He moves back into Shelley’s space and he sees the way Shelley starts to smirk, that infuriating smug little smile that never fails to piss him off, and it’s more than satisfying to see it drop off his face when Sabin speaks.
“Ask me nicely.”
Shelley had been opening his mouth to say something and the click of it snapping closed again is audible in the quiet of the empty locker room. He looks bewildered and Sabin shows him a sliver of mercy.
“Ask me nicely to fuck you. That’s what you’re angling for here, yeah? So let’s skip the bullshit, just ask me.” He pauses like he’s thinking and then adds, “say please,” and Shelley looks gratifyingly thrown by that.
“I thought this was about me repaying you for my naughty behavior, shouldn’t you be the one asking?” It’s an obvious attempt to save face, sarcasm that fails to hide the way his voice isn’t quite steady anymore. Sabin barely acknowledges it, moving another step forward until they’re chest to chest, pressed together down the whole line of their bodies, and he can feel exactly how interested Shelley is.
He grinds his thigh against Shelley’s cock and watches the last of the arrogance slide off his face as he gasps, cheeks flushing and eyes sliding half closed.
“No, I don’t think so. You want this, you can ask me for it. Otherwise, I’m more than happy to walk away.” And he punctuates his statement with another step, back this time, and Shelley has to catch himself as his legs fail to hold him for half a second. He glares at Sabin for a moment before he gives in, head thudding back against the locker behind him. “Fuck, man, sure. Fuck me, please.”
It’s short, almost pissy, and Sabin is shaking his head before he’s finished. “Nah, you can do better than that. Ask me like you mean it.” He doesn’t know where this is coming from, but god, it’s good to see the hint of desperation creeping in on the edges of Shelley’s expression when he finally looks him in the eye.
“Please, fuck me, I want you to. Fuck, I need you to, please.” He sees nothing but open want in Shelley’s gaze, all that brash arrogance from earlier gone in the wake of the need in his voice and Sabin gives in.
“Not here. You got a hotel room?” The words are barely out before Shelley’s in his space again, hooking a foot around his to spin him so that it’s his back against the locker when Shelley kisses him like he’s trying to eat him alive.
It’s the most aggressive kiss he’s been on the receiving end of in his life, and also one of the better ones. Shelley knows what he’s doing, and it doesn’t take long for Sabin to forget where they are, to pull him closer, and he can’t help grinding their cocks together through their clothes.
Shelley pulls back for air with a gasp and then he’s biting kisses down Sabin’s neck, rocking his hips in something resembling a rhythm. Sabin really doesn’t think he can be blamed for needing some time to gather his wits under this onslaught, but eventually he manages to push Shelley away. Shelley fucking whines when he does, a desperate needy sort of sound, and he almost loses his train of thought again.
“Hey, I wasn’t kidding when I said not here, I’m not having someone walk in on us, come on man.” Shelley still looks dazed for a moment before he shakes his head, stepping back a little farther to put some distance between them. His lips are already red and Sabin has to fight the urge to kiss him again.
“I’ve got a single, you’re driving.”
—
Shelley lets them into his hotel room, tossing his bag on a chair by the door and turning to face Sabin as he does the same. He looks less sure of himself now, and Sabin is the one who pulls him in for a kiss that quickly turns heated. He decides to test a theory, biting at Shelley’s lip a little harder than he normally would, and the sound Shelley makes is confirmation enough for him to spin them around and pin Shelley against the door, almost the same position they were in that started this whole thing, except for how this time he has Shelley’s wrists held tight in one of his own hands, pressed against the door above his head.
Shelley turns away from the kiss to gasp for air, pupils blown wide with obvious arousal, and Sabin tightens his grip experimentally, earning himself another of those desperate whines.
“Fuck, man, what are you, some kind of sex god? You do porn on the side or something?” Shelley’s go at sounding indignant is ruined by the way his voice has gone low and rough, already sounding fucked out and they haven’t even done anything.
“You’re the one glued to the camera, I should be asking you that.” And that thought gives him pause, because the image of Shelley, on his knees for him, in front of that stupid fucking camera, sends a hot jolt down his spine.
He doesn’t ask, doesn’t know if Shelley will go for it and that’s maybe a bit much for whatever this is, but it’s almost like he’s reading Sabin’s mind, because he smirks and nods toward his bag. “Never been on this side of the camera, not like that, but maybe you wanna change that, huh?” And there’s no hesitation, only a challenge in his eyes when he looks at Sabin, and that settles it. He lets go of Shelley’s hands, backing up to give him room to move, and he can’t help the possessive tightening in his gut at the way Shelley’s wrists are red from his grip. Shelley doesn’t miss the look in his eye, or what caused it, and he grins as he rubs at the marks.
He leans into Sabin’s space more than is really necessary to get the camera out of his bag, and Sabin realizes abruptly that they’re both still fully dressed, down to the shoes they never bothered to kick off when they came in, both of them with other things on their minds. He sets to undressing while he watches Shelley set up the camera, and he’s just stripping his shirt off when Shelley turns around with a triumphant little sound.
The light on the camera to indicate it’s recording is lit up red, viewing screen flipped out to show a wide shot of the bed and the floor in front of it, and Sabin forgets about getting his own clothes off in favor of pushing Shelley back the few steps it takes to get him in frame.
Shelley smirks, like he can tell what this is doing for him already, and then he drops to his knees, and Sabin can’t help imagining what they look like, Shelley looking up at him from the floor and running his hands up the outside of his thighs before reaching for his belt buckle with that insufferable look on his face that Sabin has to admit has started to work for him, and maybe it kind of always worked for him, now that he’s thinking about it.
He lets Shelley pull his belt loose but stops him from unbuttoning his fly, does it himself, drags it out until Shelley gets impatient and yanks his pants down with a sound that might generously be called a snarl but is definitely more of a grumble. And then he’s laughing and Shelley’s glaring up at him, all that smugness wiped clean in the wake of the naked want on his face.
He stops laughing when Shelley leans up to mouth at him through his boxers where he’s already fully hard and straining at the fabric. He gasps as Shelley licks over the head, wet heat through the rough material, and then Shelley gets his hands on him, pulling his cock out and stroking it once, twice, black nail polish flashing in the light from the overhead fixture, tongue flashing out over bitten red lips before he swallows him down with no warning.
Sabin hears a shout and it takes him a moment to realize it came from his own mouth and then he has a hand fisted in Shelley’s hair and Shelley moans and pulls back just far enough to take a quick breath before he goes back down. He sets a brutal rhythm and does something with his tongue on an upstroke that almost has Sabin coming before they’re even really started. Shelley clearly knows exactly what he’s doing, working his cock like he’s done it before, and often.
He goes a little too far down a little too fast, choking a bit, and he groans like this is working for him just as much as it’s working for Sabin and it takes every ounce of control Sabin possesses not to use his grip on his hair to hold him in place and thrust into his mouth until he comes down the back of his throat. At this point, he’s starting to think Shelley would be one hundred percent onboard with the idea.
Instead, he pulls Shelley back roughly by his hair, and that earns him an indignant look that is immediately belied by another groan, a sound that is definitely more pleasure than pain, and Sabin files that away as final confirmation of his theory. Shelley pouts at him from the floor, and his voice already sounds wrecked when he opens his mouth to complain.
“Hey, I was doing something there, don’t interrupt a master at work.” He tries to lean back in but Sabin tightens his grip, pulling his head back until Shelley is forced to look him in the eye.
“Get on the bed. Now.” His own voice isn’t the steadiest either, but he still gets that gratifying moment of shock on Shelley’s face at his tone, before he scrambles to comply with what is unmistakably an order, and Sabin allows himself a moment to be smug about having so clearly read him correctly.
Shelley’s still fully dressed, wearing one of his ridiculous ripped shirts and jeans that look uncomfortably tight against the obvious bulge of his cock. He crawls awkwardly onto the unmade bed and sprawls artlessly across it, all semblance of performance gone in the wake of how desperately he obviously wants this. Sabin wastes no more time following him and getting his hands on him, kissing him deeply while he slides a hand up the planes of his stomach, digging his nails in just a little to feel him squirm. He pulls away long enough to pull Shelley’s shirt up over his head but it still earns him a whine and he’s quick to lean back down, biting at the hinge of his jaw and down his neck while he works at the button of his absurdly tight jeans.
Shelley bites at his shoulder when he finally gets his pants undone, sharp teeth digging in when Sabin’s knuckles brush over his cock as he pulls them off, throwing them off to the side somewhere unimportant. He’s forced to let go when Sabin gets a grip on him through his boxers, throwing his head back against the pillow instead as he gasps like a man dying.
“You like that? So responsive and I’ve barely touched you. Did you get yourself worked up for me, on your knees with my cock in your mouth? Did that get you going?” He doesn’t really know where this side of him came from, but Shelley responds beautifully to his words, whining again and trying to thrust up into the grip Sabin has on him, and he can’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed.
Abruptly he remembers the camera and he shifts to the side, out of the line of sight. He kisses Shelley again and the angle is a little less comfortable but the thought of getting this on tape makes it worth it. He leans down when the kiss breaks to bite at Shelley’s neck again, retaliation that earns him another drawn out whine as he sucks a bruise into his collarbone where his shirt will cover it, and then he pulls back completely.
Shelley looks wrecked, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused, and his cock leaking against his stomach and Sabin wants to eat him alive.
“What do you want?” Because he knows they discussed this sort of in the locker room, but he needs to make sure they’re both on the same page since he’s not actually an asshole.
Shelley smirks at him, because unfortunately for Sabin he kind of is an asshole. “Thought you were gonna fuck me. As punishment for my bad behavior or whatever. Although if you wanna go with a more literal punishment, I hear spanking is traditional.” He punctuates his statement with an obnoxiously appealing little shimmy.
“Shut the fuck up, do you even have lube?” He’s not going to acknowledge the spanking thing, he’s not, but Shelley’s still fucking smirking at him like he can read his mind.
“You, my friend, are much kinkier than I expected. Lube’s in my bag.”
He finds the little bottle and a pack of condoms in a front pocket and tosses them on the bed before climbing over Shelley and pinning his hands up above his head in a horizontal mirror to how he held him against the door. “Don’t really hear you complaining, do I?”
Shelley licks his lips, eyes wide as he tries to shift his hips up to get contact. Sabin presses down for a second, kissing him roughly, and then leans back.
“Don’t move. I want you to keep your hands above your head, can you do that for me?” Shelley freezes in the process of reaching for him and slowly, like he’s putting up a show of resistance, reaches back up and wraps both hands around the slats of the headboard. Sabin gets a hand on his cock as a reward, stroking him once, twice, before he smiles at him. “Good boy.”
It’s like a switch flips, all of the tension leaving Shelley’s body, that nonstop energy gone in half a second and replaced by a languid sort of calm even as his cock leaks over Sabin’s hand. He’d have to be an idiot to misunderstand that response.
“Oh is that it, you want me to tell you you’re being good?” Shelley whines and half-heartedly shakes his head. Sabin ignores him. “You are, you’re being very good for me, keep behaving just a little longer and I’ll give you what you want, okay?”
“Shit dude, when I offered to blow you in the locker room this really was not what I had in mind.” Shelley sounds half drunk so Sabin chooses to ignore the attempt at a complaint, popping the cap on the lube and warming it against his fingers.
Shelley jerks a little when he presses the first finger in but immediately relaxes, and it doesn’t take long at all for Sabin to be able to slide three fingers in with ease while Shelley writhes against the bed.
Shelley talks the entire time, alternating between praise and gasped profanity. Still, his hands never leave the headboard, and Sabin rewards him with another filthy kiss as he lines himself up.
“You can touch me.” And then he’s thrusting in, slow and steady, and Shelley gasps beneath him and grabs at his shoulders like a lifeline, head thrown back and red mouth open. Sabin can’t resist sucking another mark to his shoulder, and Shelley’s going to spend the next week wrestling in one of his stupid shirts to cover the bruises and it makes some possessive part of his mind happy.
He gives him time to adjust but eventually Shelley kicks him in the back, which he chooses to take as silent (and obnoxious) encouragement to move. He pulls almost all the way out before sliding back in and Shelley moans in open satisfaction. “Fuck yeah, thats it, do that again. Get a fucking move on before I die of old age.” Sabin gets a fistful of his hair again and pulls in retaliation, earning a ragged moan, but he also sets a steady pace. Shelley immediately tries to get him to move faster, thrusting his hips up into Sabin’s strokes until Sabin is forced to let go of his hair and pin him to the bed, hold him in place while he fucks into him steadily.
“God, fuck yeah, I knew you would be good. Knew you couldn’t actually be as fucking boring as you looked, huh? I had no idea you were kinky though, that’s a pleasant surprise.”
Sabin chooses to ignore the first part of that statement. “I’m not, not usually.” And maybe that’s too much of an admission, that Shelley is the first person he’s fucked that brought out this controlling, possessive side of him, but Shelley just grins up at him before grabbing him by the hair to pull him down into a rough kiss, and if the sound he makes at the sharp pain isn’t entirely displeasure, that’s no one else’s business.
They only break the kiss when they’re both gasping for air and Sabin reaches down to wrap a hand around Shelley’s cock, just to feel the way he gasps against his lips when Sabin starts to stroke him in time with his thrusts.
It doesn’t take long after that for Shelley to come between them, burying his face in Sabin’s shoulder as he does and Sabin only needs a few more thrusts to follow after him.
He manages to control his collapse so that he falls to the side, rather than directly on top of Shelley, and neither of them say anything for a quiet few seconds as they catch their breath. The companionable silence doesn’t last, of course.
“Fuck, man, that was fantastic. Really, give yourself a pat on the back, I don’t think I’ve been that well fucked in a while. Didn’t know you had that in you or I’d have tried my luck sooner.”
Sabin rolls over onto his back and aims an exhausted kick at Shelley’s ankle. “Do you ever shut up?” It’s lighthearted, and Shelley clearly hears the joke in his voice because he laughs.
“Nah, probably not. You gotta get going?” And it should be like cold water, snapping him back to the reality where they kind of hate each other, but instead he finds himself thinking about a potential next time, wondering if Shelley would be interested.
Instead of waiting for a reply, Shelley gets up and starts throwing his clothes at him from where they’re scattered around the room. “Go on, go get cleaned up, I’m letting you have first dibs, mostly because I still can hardly feel my legs.” And as an afterthought, he walks over to the camera, which is still recording until he shuts it down and takes the tape out, and then he tosses that to Sabin as well, and the look in his eye is unmistakably an invitation, like he’s once again on the exact same page as Sabin. “Don’t forget that, huh?”
Sabin gets up, leaving his clothes in a pile on the bed, the tape tucked into the pocket of his jeans. He backs Shelley into the wall outside the bathroom and claims his mouth in another kiss before dragging him with him into the bathroom while Shelley smirks in that insufferable way like he’s getting exactly what he wants. It’s really starting to grow on him.