Miz was riffling through his gym bag, trying to find a T-shirt to wear for the trip to his hotel room. Fuck, he was messy. It was something John was constantly bitching at him about, and it was John that his mind was on, not the match he’d just been forced to have with Raw’s resident rednecks.
“What? It’s my fucking fault that you two are to stupid to scout your opponents. All you gotta do is turn on the TV. They do have that invention in the South, don’t they?”
Miz chuckled to himself, not even looking at the two of them. He’d just closed his hand on the T-shirt he’d been looking for, when a hand grabbed his throat and he was forcibly turned around, then slammed up against the wall. He looked down into Lance’s eyes, more shocked than anything, though he never particularly enjoyed being thrown against hard objects.
“You think you’re funny, boy?”
Miz would have said ‘yes’, or at least nodded, but having such a meat-hook closed around his neck, rendered any response impossible.
“Hey, this don’t concern you!”
Miz heard Trevor’s voice raised in complaint, but Lance’s big, fat head blocked his view, at least it did until someone grabbed Lance’s free arm, and pulled him away, forcing him to let go. Miz doubled over, sucking in a lungful of air. Damn, that redneck had a powerful grip.
Whoever had grabbed Cade, was now making both him and Murdoch exit the locker room, despite their vocal protests. Miz heard the door slam shut, then footsteps coming towards him. He recovered himself enough to stand up straight, and found himself eye, to not quite eye, with Mark.
“I don’t know what that guy’s damn problem is” he paused. “Well, tha-“
“Don’t sweat it” Mark interrupted him, with an expression that was mostly a smile, but with something else mixed in, something that Miz wasn’t quite sure he wanted to identify. “You can always thank me later”
And with that, he turned around and left the locker room, leaving Miz completely confused on all but one point. He wanted to be with John...now.
“Fuck, what happened to you?”
John had been lying on the bed, watching TV, but as soon as Miz entered, he leapt up and rushed over to him, taking the gym bag from his hand and dropping it on the floor, out of the way.
“I don’t really know” Miz responded, the confusion from the locker room still with him.
“What?” John peered at the bruise across his throat, then lifted his hand and touched it gently with his fingertips. “How could you not know how you got this? Did it happen during your match?”
Miz rolled his eyes.
“Of course I know how I got it. That fucking redneck Lance Cade tried to snap my neck. No, it’s what happened afterwards”
John’s brows drew together in a quizzical expression.
“Okay. You’d better tell me about it. Just lie down on the bed, I’ve got some stuff I wanna put on that bruise”
John didn’t wait for a response, instead he headed off into the bathroom. Miz quickly shut and locked the door, then went and lay down on the bed, as ordered. He really didn’t feel that his bruise required that much attention, but he could humour John. Usually an invitation to lie on their bed, however couched, could only lead to good things happening, but his mind was still on Mark…mostly anyway. It was hard not to think about sex, when you had a lover as hot as John.
It was thinking about John that had got him into this trouble in the first place, though sex hadn’t been in the equation….for once. He’d been thinking that he and John had been together for like….five months now, and……..
“I always pack this. Wrestlers and bruises go together like-“ John began, coming back into the room, with a plastic container in his hand.
“Like chocolate and vodka” Miz supplied, unable to suppress a grin.
“Yeah” he perched on the edge of the bed, next to Miz and unscrewed the cap off the container.
“What’s up with that peppermint smell?”
John discarded the cap, and dipped his fingers into the container’s contents.
“It’s just the ointment. It’s a home-made recipe”
“Great, so I’m gonna smell like a giant peppermint lollie”
John bent over and kissed him briefly on the lips.
“Just makes you even tastier to lick, babe”
Miz lost his frown, and even felt himself blush, just the tinniest bit. Sometimes, for all his brashness, he wondered how John could seem to care about him as much as he did. John was smoking. He could have had his pick of the locker room……still could………
John put the container down on the nightstand, and reaching out, began smoothing the peppermint smelling stuff on his bruise.
“So, what’s the story?”
Miz let himself relax, appreciating the feel of John’s gentle touch on his skin.. “It was the fucking weirdest thing. That jerk-off Cade was going all ape-shit on me, and then……..out of fucking nowhere Mark shows up, and throws him and that moron partner of his out the door. Then he comes back, and……..well, I was trying to say thank you, but he interrupted me, and……”
John finished applying the ointment, and sat back a little.
Miz looked up at him.
“He said, I could always thank him later……and he had the fucking strangest expression on his face, when he said it”
“What do you think he meant?”
Miz shook his head.
“Damned if I know”
“Wait……I’ll be back in a sec”
Miz had known this was coming, because he’d seen that John still had some of the ointment on his fingers. John was not your, just wipe the stuff off on your jeans, type of guy. Rather he was a major ass clean freak, which was no doubt why his messiness pained John so much.
John got off the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom. Miz let his gaze wander over to the TV screen. That was weird. John had been watching that Blade Trinity movie, a movie they’d already seen like three times, for reasons really beyond his comprehension, unless maybe it had been a part of one of their vampire movie marathons. It did have Triple H in it…..he wouldn’t go so far as to say the guy had acted in it, but he was in it nonetheless. That couldn’t be why John was watching it again though, could it?
“Are you worrying about him?” John asked, coming out of the bathroom, walking over to the bed and resuming his perch.
“Huh?” Miz just got his brain back on track in time to give the right answer. “I don’t know what to think about him. How come you’re watching this again?”
“Huh?” John glanced over at the TV screen. “Oh….I don’t know. It’s probably just the best thing on”
It was a fairly lame answer, not that that made it untrue. Miz sighed.
“Come on, babe” John got the TV remote from the nightstand, switched the TV off and set the remote down again, then he crawled on top of Miz and kissed him lingeringly on the lips. “Don’t worry” he said, finally, lifting his head. “I’m here. You think I’d let anyone hurt you?”
Miz grinned, lifting his hands and running them along John’s back.
“What was that thing you said about licking me?”
“Mmmm……let me show you”
“Looking good, Miz”
Miz looked up to see the slim blonde walking along the corridor.
“Right back at you, Michelle” he responded, even managing a wink.
Michelle smiled, tossing her head flirtatiously.
“See you tomorrow” she waved goodbye, as she exited the arena.
Miz waited until the glass doors had slid shut behind her, before releasing the shudder that he’d been holding in. Fuck, he hated having to flirt with the divas. It was one thing playing to the female fans in the ring, and even on the “Dirt Sheet”. That was all “The Miz”, all part of his chick magnet persona. It was a persona he’d developed even before he’d broken into the WWE. It was his shield, a way to keep certain things about him hidden. Like his relationship with John……who was taking his sweet time in the bathroom. Not that that should surprise him. Miz had never known John to meet a mirror that he didn’t like. He went back to reading his book, a well worn copy of “I, Vampire”, and had just got settled back into it, when he heard footsteps. “Finally” he said, sliding his bookmark in between the pages to mark his place. “I thought we were never going to leave”
Miz stood up, turning around to face John, and finding a pair of cold green eyes staring right back at him.
“Mark……what….what are you doing here?”
Mark walked towards him, and Miz was uneasy to see that same odd smile on his face.
“This is my show”
“Of course, I….” Miz began, but trailed off.
Mark had already closed the distance between them, and something in Miz’s instincts told him to get up. Yet even as he did, he was aware that it was to late.
Mark’s hand clamped down on his left shoulder, and a strange, heavy feeling descended over him. As though from somewhere far off, he heard the thunk of his book hitting the floor, just before he followed it, sinking into a well of darkness.
“Huh” Miz slowly opened eyes that felt weighted down. “Where am I?”
He heard a merciless laugh.
“In Hell, boy”
“What?” Miz sat up, with difficulty, trying to shake off the heavy feeling of confusion. He felt like he’d been drugged, but knew he hadn’t taken anything. He’d just been waiting for John, and then……
“At least you can sit up, that will make this a hell of a lot easier”
Miz blinked his eyes into focus, and found himself in a room, alone, with Mark, who was standing over him, in a less than friendly way.
“Where am I?”
“I’m pretty sure I answered that question already” Mark said, he reached forward and grabbed the back of Miz’s head. “I never took you for being slow, Miz. Lucky for you, it don’t intelligence to do this”
“Do what?.....why have you got me here? Where’s John?”
“That pretty boy…..don’t worry, son. He can’t interrupt us. Just relax…..it’ll make this go a lot faster”
Miz still had no idea what he was talking about, until Mark used his free hand to undo the zipper on his jeans, and pull his cock out from his boxer shorts. Sudden realization made his blood freeze in his veins.
Mark laughed again.
“You ready to thank me now, boy?”
Miz swallowed back the dusty feeling from his throat. He felt terrified, incapable of speech.
Mark’s lips stretched in that weird smile.
“I’ll take that as a yes”
Slowly, using his vice like grip, he lowered Miz’s head down to his cock.
“Miz! Are you in here?”
Miz felt relief flood his body, as he heard John’s voice through the door. He opened his mouth to respond, and found that he couldn’t. Terror still gripped his throat, keeping him silent, and suddenly his relief gave way to despair. What if John decided he wasn’t in here? What if the door was locked? What if John thought he’d left the arena already?
Mark glanced at the door.
“What the fuck does he think he’s doing?”
It was a second of inattention, but with it came the slightest weakening of his grip, and Miz, a mixture of terror and adrenalin surging through his body, yanked himself free of Mark and lunged away, screaming out John’s name with all the volume he could muster, before his legs completely gave out under him, and he collapsed to the floor.
“Miz! What’s going on?”
Miz couldn’t answer. He’d done all he could. He could only hope that it would be enough.
Mark shook his head. He looked back at Miz, and actually took a step towards him, then John started pounding on the door, and Mark whipped his head back around.
He strode over to the door, reaching it just as it flew open and John burst into the room.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Mark didn’t answer, at least that Miz could hear, but he did hear the smack of something hard hitting flesh, followed by what sounded like a violent scuffle, then feet running, that he hoped belonged to Mark….then finally, footsteps……approaching him.
Miz was to afraid to rise, or even move, fearing it was Mark coming back for him, that John had been forced to run, to get help….to leave him, but then a gentle hand touched his cheek.
“Ohhh” Miz opened his eyes, looking up at John’s face…..and the blood in a crimson streak across his forehead. “Fuck….what did that bastard to do you?”
John shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter” he knelt, and gathered Miz up in his arms, holding him close, tightly to his own body. “You’re okay…..you don’t know what I was fucking going through… Jesus..” he stroked his hands down Miz’s back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank God you’re safe. If I’d even thought he would try……I’d have never left your side”
Miz laid his head on John’s shoulder.
“I’m sure there are better places to be” he said, in a weak attempt at humour.
John stroked his short hair, pressing another kiss to his temple.
“Not for me”