Miz took the ice baggie away from his jaw.
“Physical or moral?”
John placed his necklace down on his championship belt, that Miz had carried all the way back from the ring for him, despite his battered jaw.
Miz shrugged a little.
“My pleasure, baby”
“God” John half sat, half fell onto the couch opposite him. “I can’t believe Finlay hit you with that……whatever the hell that thing is called”
“Fuck, it’s hard……that’s all that fucking matters” Miz put the baggie back against his jaw, wincing slightly.
John looked at him with concern.
“What did the doctor say?”
Miz rolled his eyes.
“Put ice on it. It’ll be fine by tomorrow……..oh, and, not to put anything hard in my mouth, in the meantime”
John shook his head.
“No lessons tonight then, huh?”
Miz somehow managed to crook a lecherous eyebrow, despite his discomfort.
“Oh….I think you’re ready to graduate, Mr. Morrison”
“Yeah?” John bent over, taking off his wrestling boots. “God knows I could use the hot water…..damn, Punk worked a stiff match” he stood up, shucking off his tights, and then wearing nothing but his pair of blue jockeys, came around the coffee table, and held out a hand to Miz. “You sure I’m ready…..master?”
Miz took his hand, standing and abandoning the baggie to the couch.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine” he swallowed back the dryness from his throat, feeling the first frissons of lust. He wasn’t sure whether it was seeing John virtually naked or his use of the M-word that produced them…..it really didn’t fucking matter. “You know I’m always here…..to give you pointers, you know, if you need them”
“What would I do without you?”
Next: M/M Moments: Part Two