“Fuck!”
He hit the wall, just barely hard enough to hurt.
“God dammit!”
He leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.
“God fucking dammit!” he shouted into the brick.
He had been so certain of victory, yet here he stood, devoid of the title. It burned him that Cena had been able to take the title from him. Cena had been so unable to control his passion, yet somehow he had managed to pull it together for just long enough to steal Edge’s gold.
“Mother fucking bastard,” Edge cursed, standing up straight and running a hand through his disheveled golden locks. He strode to the door, his fists clenched tightly. He was going to find Cena, and he was going to…well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do, but he had to do something!
He marched stiffly to the new champion’s dressing room, kicking open the door. He blinked, startled out of his anger for a moment at the shocking sight before him. John lay on the couch, naked, on top of an equally naked Rey Mysterio. Rey had his arms around John’s neck, and they were sharing a sweet kiss. From the smell of the room, the main event to this show had already taken place.
Rey and John both turned to look at Edge, John hastily grabbing a towel from a nearby bench and covering Rey with it. “What do you want?” he demanded, putting an arm around Rey protectively.
Edge’s eyes narrowed, his anger flooding back in a rush. “You stole my fucking title,” he hissed.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Rey interjected, standing and fastening the towel around his waist. He leaned down to give John a quick kiss, then stood and strode out of the room.
Edge watched him go, his head spinning back to glare at Cena the second the diminutive wrestler was gone. “You two - ” he began.
“Had a nice post-Rumble celebration together,” Cena interrupted. “Not that you give a fuck about my love life,” he added, frustration boiling up inside him over the fact that, despite having just shared a beautiful love making session with Rey, he was still barely containing his desire to pounce on Edge.
“You fucker,” Edge spat. “I fucking hate you!” Before Cena could even respond, Edge was on top of him, mashing their lips together, heat sizzling between their bodies.
“Fuck me,” John gasped out, spreading his legs in invitation. His eyes narrowed, and he smirked. “I’ll feel so much better around you than some belt!”
“Fucker!” Edge snarled, ripping open a condom with his teeth and sliding it on. “Stealing my fucking title, stealing my fucking lines!”
“Yeah!” John’s nails dug into Edge’s back as he was penetrated. He wanted to be fucked, and with the title in his possession, he felt invincible. “Fuck me!”
“Fuck you! Fucking bastard!”
It was frantic, driving, scaldingly hot sex. It left both panting, content in a fleeting moment of post-coital bliss. John wrapped his arms momentarily around Edge’s back, closing his eyes and savoring the sensation of the other man inside him. Then Edge was shoving him away, glowering at him as he pulled off the condom, throwing it down on John’s chest so the contents splattered across his pecs.
“Go to hell, you fucker!” Edge growled, stomping towards the door. He slammed the door hard behind him, didn’t get more than three feet, turned around, and banged back into the room. “Fuck!” he exclaimed as he hurtled his room key at John, then stormed out again.
John caught the key before it took out his eye, letting his head
fall back against the couch. “Fuck,” he echoed quietly, clutching the
key in his hand.