Chapter Text
being scruffed doesn't exactly feel good. it's not bad, per say, but it makes his skin feel hot and an almost constant itch bloom under his skin. the urge to shake it away is just out of reach and the way his thoughts go so slow make everything seem stuffy and far away.
regal knows all of this.
he knows all of it and yet mox doesn't expect him to actually do anything.
the itchy feeling he gets after matches, especially after bloody matches, is incomparable to the way scruffing makes his skin buzz and his brain shake. the way regal says something, maybe something important, but all mox can pay attention to is the way his legs feel like almost worn out rubber bands ready to snap and how his arms are made of springs.
regal's sandy blond hair swims into his vision every now and then. mox tries to keep track of him, tries to get his eyes to follow the way regal is moving, but the feeling of lips and teeth on his throat and the sudden sensation of nails on the base of his tail makes everything fuzzy.
he tries his hardest not to just crumble, he does. always tries to fight the way scruffing makes him feel small and docile and stupid. he used to hate it when roman would scruff him, used to nash at his wrist as he tried and growl the entire time. used to glare at seth across the room, the audacity to stand there and let roman scruff him like a child. like some type of misbehaving cub who needs to have his nose smacked with a paper.
now though, with the way his lordship is rubbing the soft spot behind his ear and digging his nails into the base of his tail, mox lets his body slump the way it wants. lets his eyes slip close and allows the small step forward into regal's chest. feels the way the edges of his fangs rub against the fabric of regal's suit and shivers at the urge to bite and suckle. it feels good. it feels heavenly.
the slow, slow, slow uncoiling of everything feels right, like he's full of adrenaline but without the twitching and the panic. what a fucker, regal, his lordship. he still feels blood on his teeth, still sluggishly dripping down his face. the hand on his neck almost makes him bite his tongue, the feeling traveling down his spine feels hot and burning, everything feels liquid and searing.
he stays like that, leaning on regal’s chest, breathing heavily. the mouth on his neck leaves, but the small strokes to his tail continue, smoothing the sweat soaked fur into place. it brings him down, low, until the events in the ring stop coming back and nothing else matters but the way he can feel regal's arm around his waist and the feeling of his cologne in his nose.
he’s always liked how lordship smelled. even in the ring, he’s always smelled deep and good. like something old and extravagant.
at some point, mox realizes there’s not a hand on the back of his neck anymore. the cool air of the locker room brushes against the skin there and a high noise bubbles up his throat. chuffs for something, not really identifiable beyond nails and blood and regal. he gets a pull of his tail for it, making the fuzz clear slightly, enough to still him rubbing his forehead into regal's jacket. enough to feel the way regal's chest buzzes while he speaks.
“come here, boy.” his lordship says.
but mox is already here, he’s already there. regal is petting him, grooming his tail. letting him smear his sweat and blood on his shoulder. why would he need to come closer? he’s already here. mox tries to chuff again, but the sour smell of rot comes to his nose, making the sound hitch in his throat.
old apples and wet soil, something smoking covering it all. that's what he gets when he opens his mouth, tongue glancing over regal's suit and sliding over the sides of his fangs. oh, those are still out, still pink with blood.
“i am not happy i had to come out there like that.” his lordships voice is tight, the rumble in his chest low and crackling. mox shifts to peak an eye out, wanting to know what it is he’s doing to make regal's sound this way. but then-
but then bryan is there. still dripping from the ring, still flushed from the fight. mox feels his tail quiver at the sight of him. he’s looking at regal, head held stiff and straight. mox kind of wants to see what would happen if he dragged a nail down his chest, just to see if he would break.
“i expected as much from jon here,” regal pulls on his tail, startling a groan from his chest. even with it, he stifles a smirk at the way bryan flinches slightly. “but i thought you had more sense than to start a fight after a loss, regardless of the circumstances.”
mox won, that's right. rolled up bryan, even while in a triangle. the moments directly after blur a bit, the feeling of hands pulling him off bryan, the way his fangs ached to bite and tear. the way the acrid smell of displeasure hit his nose like a wall and the sight of regal standing there made his head spin.
the slap felt expected, felt like something normal for regal to do. mox remembers the way the stinging feeling ached in his jaw and made him twitch and stumble. the way the surprise of it had him cast his gaze to the floor and huff. mox didn’t really care that he won, but he knows it will make bryan ache inside and that sends a zing through him. chuffs as the thought and brings a hand up to regal's side.
“im sorry, sir.” he hears bryan whisper. the words make mox’s tail halt. the flicking movement stops, just for a moment. fingers brush against his lower back, he smells the way bryan’s scent gets even more rotten, like it's close to catching flies.
“we'll see.” mox thinks if regal was part cat, the words would have been growled out. he can tell it won’t be his last thought on the matter, knows that his lordship always has a string of words to say. itches to get them out and make others see what he sees. “i'm going to need another minute with jonathan here, go start cleaning up.”
mox keeps his gaze on bryan, lowers his eyebrows as bryan looks right at him, and breathes in deep, despite the way his ribs ache and his jaw hurts. danielson is, scared. mox can tell by the twitch of his eye and the way his fists clench.
regal scratches at his tail again, crosses the wires between what happened in the ring and what regal is doing to him right now. his fangs throb, the gums around their base dry and itchy. mox remembers the way bryan kept kicking and kicking, he thinks about how his sides are sure to bruise all purple and nice. thinks about the way his stripes will shine. his blood is still on bryan's arms and hands.
he thinks about putting some more on him.
but his brain is still abuzz and regal's hand on his tail makes his top priority the smoky smell of an angry lordship and the pulse of his fangs.
mox doesn't watch bryan walk away, but he hears the soft sound of zippers and the slap of bryan's feet as he heads to the showers. mox wonders if regal would let him go tend to bryan, wonders if bryan would even let him after the loss.
he doesn't know if he wants to, but he keeps his word. they've bled together. that means something.
the fingers at the side of his neck make him flinch, lurching sideways from regal's chest and something close to a growl slipping from his lips.
“still on edge, i see.” regal has that smirk he gets. laughs and then takes mox's shoulder in his hand. the one not still on his tail, mox can feel him rubbing the fur there between his fingers.
“you heard what i said to bryan, yes?” it's not a question, mox knows this. can tell from the way regal digs a thumb into this collar bone and how his smirk fades. he nods anyway, head hung low. “i don't like it when my pets fight.”
my pets.
mox hasn't been called one of regal's in years. has sort of forgotten what it felt like, to be called that. pet. it makes the buzz in his brain get stronger, makes his ears ring. the ache in his teeth spreads into his jaw, the tingle of wanting to bite, to naw, to sink his teeth into something.
regal digs his thumb into mox's skin harder, into one of his stripes. mox bends to him, lets his head fall back as regal pulls his tail again.
“pay attention.” regal snarls. he's trying, mox is trying, he is. he looks at regal, head still tilted back, mouth open a bit. he's sure his eyes are wide, pupils large and dark. the way regal smirks again as they mark eye contact sends a shiver through mox's back. “there you are. you can go down in a minute, listen and you'll get what you want.”
mox doesn't really know if that's what he wants, almost wants to take a nail to regal's eye and give him a matching scar to his lip. wants to maybe bite as his ear like he did all those years ago, make him bleed.
his pet. i'm his pet. it's very hard to listen when there's a promise of being his again. of somehow being his and bryan's.
bryan's here. mox wants to make him bleed again, wants to see how he looks with mox's teeth in him. he wants to see how bryan and regal look with matching bites.
“jonathan.”
regal said to listen. he said to, mox is trying. he's trying. but regal's hand keeps inching up mox's neck and his fingers are right at the edge of his hair and even if it kind of hurts and makes him so slow, mox really wants his lordship's hand back on his nape.
“listen, boy,” regal shakes him a little, like he did before. mox sees the faint red on his forehead. he's still wearing my blood. “whatever it is that led to that fight out in the ring, bury it.”
“bry started it.” the hand on his tail is suddenly gone and there's a quick thought of nonononono- before there's another smack to his cheek. his growl is cut off by regal speaking again.
“and i ended it.” regal has always switched so easily from smugness to anger. mox has always marveled at it, has always had trouble going from one thing to the next. the look regal is giving him is nothing short of pissed. “you're a team now, i will not have the two of you at each other's throats under my watch. continue to indulge in foolishness and there will be consequences.”
mox's tail flicks side to side, he can feel the tip of it bat at regal's trousers. he can’t tell if it's at the threat, the promise, or at the way regal has finally re-established the hold on his nape. that slow slow feeling is back, tugging at the edge of his mind and making his beard itch.
behind the twitch of his tail and the buzz in his ears, mox knows there's nothing to say. he knows there's no option to refute or argue, knows that as soon as bryan is out of the shower and regal allows, mox and bryan are linked. intended to wrestle together and fight together and bleed together.
he knows all of this so he stays quiet. let's regal squeeze at his neck and run a knuckle down his jaw, because mox is his.
his pet.
“do you think you can behave for me, pet?” there's a blunt nail being dragged down the last of mox’s beard and the length of his neck. it catches on the patches of dried blood and tensing muscle underneath pebbling skin. mox closes his eyes at it, doesn’t know how to handle what's happening while still looking at regal and the smile sliding across his lips.
he wraps his tail around regal’s ankle as an answer, the tip still swaying while it rests against the black fabric. chuffs once, quietly, as regal’s finger heads towards his chest. the hand on his neck, that's wrapped so tightly that he can feel regal’s fingers on each side of his jaw, moves his head. guides it until mox’s head is up and back, surely if he opened his eyes, all he would see would be the gray ceiling of the locker room.
mox can feel regal’s suit against his chest, the buttons are snagging in the hair on his belly. the man's large barrel chest slotting between mox’s shoulders and pressing. regal licks a stripe from the divot in mox’s collar bone to the edge of his beard. his tongue leaving a trail of wet in its wake that cools instantly. mox shivers, right down to the tip of his tail and chuffs loud in regal’s ear. he feels the way his throat vibrates against regal’s tongue and chuffs again for good measure.
“hhegh-” mox gurgles as regal leaves a quick kiss to his ear. tries to dislodge his nails that have somehow ended up in the edges of regal's suit jacket. tries to stop the way his tail is now shaking, flicking wildly about behind him. tries to lean further into the hand holding him by the neck.
embarrassingly, mox realizes that he is terribly hard. he can feel the way his dick is rubbing against his underwear and how the front of regal’s hip keeps nudging the tip of it while they move against each other. he opens his eyes and looks at regal through his bottom lashes.
“please, sir-” he can try. he listened so well, he listened and regal said he’d put him down, he said. “sir, you said-”
“i know what i said.” there’s that smug smirk again. “i didn’t say i would give it to you immediately. i want you to go shower,”
“but-”
“i want you to go shower.” regal tugs his head back more, thumbs at the back of his ear. “without touching yourself, and when we get back to the hotel, i’ll give you what you want.”
and then there are no more hands on him. the suit against his chest leaves, the grip on his neck is no more. mox feels bare, in a way that makes his stripes tingle and his fangs dig into his tongue as he licks them clean.
he staggers for a second, sways on his feet before they start moving him to his bag next to bryan’s. he still feels it, the way the spot on the back of his neck is hot and achy. the itch is still there, traveling down his fingers as he unlaces his boots and tugs at his gear.
he suspects that it's eating away at bryan just the same as him. the way regal walks and talks and commands. the barely there sting of his slap, the ghost feeling of his hands touching. the shower is still running, the wet patter of water and feet on tile is still there.
mox spares a glance at regal, still standing in the middle of the room. there’s a dark spot on his shoulder, a few wrinkles down by his pockets. but his eyes are just as steadfast as they were in the ring, as they were a few seconds ago.
there’s no reason to grab a towel, so he doesn’t. just stands, track pants and boxers falling to his ankles, and goes to shower. there’s no reason to be embarrassed, in front of regal, after being scruffed twice in one night. there’s no reason to pay attention to the way his dick drips against his thigh, not when there’s a promise in the air.
there’s no reason to go into an empty stall, when there’s already one perfectly warm and running, occupied by someone mox hopes is his prize for following directions.