Work Header

Match Drabbles

Chapter Text

Sonny couldn't put him on his back in the ring in ten whole minutes and Ricky was proud of that, but once they were in the locker room it was a different story. He was on his back now, bent in half with his trunks down around his knees and his knees up around his ears, with Sonny's beard scraping his thighs. His old mentor had an extravagant streak at times, and right now he'd decided to show off by taking Ricky's balls in his mouth alongside his cock, sucking on Ricky's whole package like one of his damn lollipops.

Chapter Text

The Dog held Ted's hand in both of his. Visiting hours has passed, but the doctor was a fan. It was quiet in the hospital, no sound but the beeping of machines. Teddy wasn't snoring, and if he started JYD would get a doctor as quick as could be. Another time it might just be a sign that time and pasta were catching up with him. Tonight it'd more likely be a brain bleed.

They took his eyes, they took his tag partner, they damn near killed his best friend. "I'm going to end this," he promised, kissing Ted's fingers.

Michael didn't wait until they got to the next hotel. Not with seven inches of blue steel demanding his immediate attention. Just as soon as Buddy peeled out of the parking lot he climbed between the seats into the back, right on top of Bam Bam.

He guided Terry to his back, laying between his legs. Not too cramped for some celebratory dry-humping while Buddy did eighty down the backroads.

"You'd kill for me, wouldn't you?" He couldn't keep his hands off Terry's thighs.

"'Course I would." Big blue eyes blinked innocently up at him.

Goddamn but he was flying.

Chapter Text

"And furthermore," continued Lord Littlebrook, "I'll thank you to keep your repulsive advances to yourself!"

Cowboy Lang leaned against a locker and grinned insouciantly. "My advances?" he drawled.

Infuriating man. "Don't try to deny it. Every man, woman, and child in attendance will refute you! Shall we consult the video record, and see the evidence inscribed in film? I am referring, Lang, to your fascination - nay, obsession! - with my bottom."

Lang shrugged. "Lot to be fascinated with."

"The least you could do," seethed Littlebrook, shrugging off the straps of his singlet, "is make good on your lewd suggestions, you beast."