PROGRESSIVE Championship Wrestling was a dream come true for Brad Fraser. From early days of pounding his brother to a pulp in the name of research to that first dive off the balcony onto a mattress, from the first tryout all the way through to making it up to the main roster, he was proud of his accomplishments. Wrestling was the one goal he’d relentlessly pursued.
In a word, Brad was beautiful, and he did not fit the mold of the typical wrestler. Blond haired and blue eyed, he had boyish good looks. He was slightly built, and in the early days, his stature had put him at a disadvantage. It had been insinuated to him by more than one promoter that he was too short to ever make it to the big leagues. He had happily proved them all wrong.
Things happened inside the pro-wrestling circuit that people outside never knew about. Brutality was a way of life for these men. Many people thought what they did was fake, but the wrestlers knew the difference. The mat was solid, and the ring was strung with steel ropes. Chair shots were performed with real chairs. In essence, these men made a living beating others and being beaten in return. Behind the cameras they were nothing more than a group of friends and enemies. In countless backstage areas around the country, they lived their lives with no off-season.
Brad embraced the life wholeheartedly and never complained about the pain. It wasn’t that he was a glutton for punishment; he just had a genuine love for the sport. The things that bothered him tended to be more of the creature comfort variety. He found he had to be creative in coming up with ways to balance the unending travel and inherent pain that came with tossing his body around, and the boredom of the nomadic life on the road. Many times this creativity bit him in the ass, and too much of a good thing turned bad in a heartbeat.
There is no crying in wrestling, and as much as Brad knew that, he still fought back tears as he struggled with the sugar packet. They were in some nameless arena in a town he had already forgotten the name of, but everything else was the same as it always was. Tonight hadn’t been a televised show, fortunate because he knew the cameras would have accentuated the bags under his eyes. All he wanted to do was get a coffee in catering and disappear into the woodwork. If he was honest with himself, he knew he got into these messes because of his incessant risk-taking behavior. Never content to read about the thrills, he felt he always had to experience them firsthand. Whether smoking a joint behind the dumpsters or falling from one bed to another, his next fix was always right around the corner. The excesses of the previous night were creeping up on him now with a vengeance.
Sugar exploded from the packet, spilling all over the table. “Shit,” he said, and as he reached for a napkin, his sleeve brushed against the Styrofoam cup and spilled coffee all over the table and the floor.
The tears spilled over as he knelt down to mop up the coffee, and his vision blurred as a pair of heavy boots stepped right into the mess.
“There you are.” The voice above him was low with menace. Without looking up, Brad knew that it was Bruiser, a veteran wrestler that all the men knew they could go to when they wanted to score drugs. Younger, pretty boys like Brad were expected to pay with sexual favors. Brad raised a hand to dash his tears away, and whispered, “Please.” Although he had expected to pay for the joint with a blow job, he hadn’t been expecting the rough treatment afterward.
Bruiser reached down and fisted his hand in Brad’s hair, hauling him upright. “Please,” he mimicked. “You weren’t this eager last night, but I told you that you’d come around.” He had the audacity to wink before he leaned in closer and said, “You ready for more?”
“No,” Brad said, “I just….”
“You just what?” Bruiser lifted his hand slightly, unmoved by Brad’s wince.
“Leave me alone,” Brad whispered, “please.”
“Ah, now see, it don’t work like that,” Bruiser said, his lips drawn back in a humorless grin. “Now take that sweet little ass down to my dressing room, and wait for me.”
Even with Bruiser’s hand tangled painfully in his hair, Brad sagged forward and didn’t care if he fell back to the floor when he was let go to carry out the command. In his peripheral vision he saw someone approach, and he closed his eyes in misery.
“I think he’s had enough,” said a cool voice.
“Stay out of this, O’Doul,” Bruiser snarled, “it don’t concern you.” And he released his hold on Brad’s hair, letting him tumble to the floor.
“Ah, but it does,” Scott said. “I distinctly heard him tell you no.” He stepped in front of Brad’s prone body.
Bruiser shifted his gaze from Scott down to the trembling Brad, and then straightened up to his full height. “This ain’t over,” he growled softly.
“I think perhaps it is,” Scott replied.
The encounter had not gone unnoticed, and several people watched surreptitiously. Bruiser clenched his hands into fists, not willing to let Scott get the better of him in front of a crowd.
“Listen, you little prick,” Bruiser said, his muscles rippling under his tight T-shirt. “Just because you dress in suits and gel your hair, don’t mean you own this joint.”
Scott tipped his head to the side and spoke softly enough that only Bruiser heard him. “Try me, but run the risk of me besting you in front of the rest of the boys. I won’t hold back the way I do in the ring.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Bruiser growled.
Scott clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and raised his voice so that all heard. “Find someone else for that.”
Bruiser raised his hand, and Scott caught it neatly. With a growl of outrage, Bruiser tore away. “You ain’t seen the last of me, Scott O’Doul.” He turned and stalked down toward the row of dressing rooms.
Once he was gone, Scott bent down and helped Brad stand. Side by side, Scott was several inches taller than Brad. At a glance, Scott’s muscular build fit the mold of wrestler far better than Brad’s smaller frame.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
A bit of Brad’s natural spunkiness returned. He attempted a smile and said, “Fine, thanks.” But as he took a step, he stumbled and would have fallen had Scott not caught him.
“You’re not fine.” Scott put his arm around Brad, supporting him. Affixing a smile to his handsome features, he turned to those still idling about and said, “Nothing to see here, move along.” He then guided Brad out the back door of the small arena.
In the parking lot, Scott settled Brad into the front seat of his car.
“Where are you taking me?” Brad asked, his cheeks trembling with the effort to hold back the tears that threatened once again.
“Try and sleep,” was all Scott would say.
Brad leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger window and fell silent. After a while he closed his eyes to block everything out. Before long he did in fact drift into a light doze.
By the time they reached the hotel, Brad was for all intents and purposes unconscious. Scott carried him from the car to the room, cradling him gently in his strong arms. With almost clinical detachment, he stripped Brad’s clothes from his body and stood back to note the bruises that peppered his torso and thighs. Although he knew Brad would be out for a while, he was gentle as he shifted him under the covers.
There was a small coffee maker in the room, and Scott brewed the coffee strong. He drank several cups, refilling the machine once as he watched over Brad’s sleep. He sat in a chair along the wall of the room, far enough away to resist temptation.
When Brad finally woke, he was disoriented, and when he shifted, he discovered he was naked under a rough sheet. His eyes fluttered open, and he found Scott sitting in a chair watching his confusion.
“Where am I?” Brad asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.
“In my room,” Scott said.
Soft color covered Brad’s cheeks, and he said, “I… did we…?”
“Not yet,” Scott said. He dropped his hands to his lap and sat forward. “Bruiser forced you, I take it?”
Brad struggled up in the bed and sat against the headboard, making sure to keep the sheet pulled up tightly against his chest. “Yeah.”
“And you did some drugs?” Putting one hand up to cover his face, Brad nodded. “Look at me,” Scott said, his voice soft with command.
Slowly Brad dragged his hand away from his face and looked forlornly at Scott.
“While I agree that drugs and sex can be quite pleasant when done right, every man has his limits.” Scott tipped his head to the side, then said softly, “Everyone wants something, Bradley. Sometimes it’s as simple as a nice soft bed, but other times it’s a bit more complicated. What is it that you desire most, hmm? Is it something I can give you?”
A frown puckered Brad’s brow. “I don’t know what you mean. You already gave me what I wanted, protection from that asshole.” He shifted away from the headboard and ran his tongue over his lips as he moved a bit closer. “The way this usually works, there’s something I can give you, you know, to pay you for the favor.”
“I’m not interested in the way things usually work,” Scott said. “I didn’t bring you here to take advantage of you.” He sat forward in the chair. “The truth is that I’ve had my eye on you for a while, just waiting for you to break free from that cycle on your own.” He paused and ran his gaze over Brad’s body. “I’m only asking you what you want so that this first time is pleasurable for you.”
Smirking, Brad let the sheet drop. “Maybe you figured this out already, but I like things a little rough. The thing I can’t figure out is, if you wanted me, why didn’t you just ask me?”
“Define rough, Bradley. It means different things to different people,” Scott said.
“Are you going to answer my question?” Brad asked.
“When you answer mine,” Scott countered.
Brad shifted back to lean against the headboard again, the sheet riding dangerously low over his growing erection. “A little bite of pain with my pleasure, a smack on the ass, pull of the hair. Nothing really over-the-top, I just don’t like it when people hold back.”
Scott smiled and stood. He walked closer to stand beside the bed. “If anything gets over-the-top, will you tell me?”
“I will,” Brad said.
His hand a gentle caress on Brad’s hair, Scott said, “If you agree, then this isn’t just for tonight, and you won’t have to give in to Bruiser or anyone else like that ever again.”
“I’ll agree,” Brad said, “after you tell me what it is you want because there are lines I don’t cross.”
“What I want,” Scott said, “is the illusion of control.”
Brad squinted as a shiver chased down his spine. Scott’s eyes were in the shadows so it was difficult to read his intent. “And if I say stop?”
“We stop,” Scott said. “I have given you that promise.”
Turning his head to press his lips against Scott’s wrist, Brad said, “Why just the illusion? You could have complete control if you wanted.”
Scott looked at him in silence for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “The traditional way one takes control over another is mundane. I don’t want complete control over your life in that way. I’m a rule-breaker, not a follower. I’ve been looking for someone who has balls enough to take the risk of illusion. I think you are that person, Bradley.”
“I got the balls,” Brad said, “and I’m willing to take the risk.”
“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” Scott said with a catlike smile.
“So, are you going to answer that question now? If you wanted me,” Brad said, “why didn’t you just ask me?”
“There’s something more satisfying about this conquest,” Scott said. “Like I said before, I don’t like the mundane, and asking you would have felt that way, at least for me.”
“So, you just waited for me to fuck up?” Brad asked.
“I waited for the time to be right,” Scott replied. “Besides, you weren’t the one that fucked up, Bruiser was. You won’t be sorry for taking this chance.”
“I get the feeling that you’re right,” Brad murmured.
Still clad in the black suit, white shirt, and red necktie he’d worn earlier for his bit on the PCW show, Scott began to unbuckle his belt and open the fly of his pants. Brad’s eyes widened when he saw that Scott wore nothing beneath. The pants were spread open wide, and Scott reached in and withdrew his already hardening cock. He stroked himself as he tipped Brad’s head back. Gently, he rubbed the ruby tip of his cock over Brad’s lips.
“Open your mouth.”
Stifling a small gasp, Brad opened his mouth and snaked his tongue out to touch the underside of Scott’s shaft. Scott twined his fingers through Brad’s hair and guided his cock into his mouth. Hollowing his cheeks, Brad sucked him down about halfway.
“Ah Bradley,” Scott said. “Such a talented mouth.”
Shifting closer, the sheet falling away completely, Brad braced his hands against Scott’s hips and began to suck him in earnest. He used every trick he knew, tongue circling the head, pushing into the slit, grazing lightly with his teeth. Scott’s belt buckle jingled next to his ear as he increased the rhythm.
“That’s it,” Scott groaned. He continued to support the base of his shaft with one hand and grip Brad’s hair tightly with the other.
His fingers digging into the wool of Scott’s trousers, Brad sucked him in even deeper, and hummed gently as Scott’s cock lodged in his throat. Scott’s breathing became more labored, hitching in his throat as his climax neared.
Finally, with a stifled roar, Scott tightened his hand in Brad’s hair, yanked back, and began to stroke himself firmly. His hand slid easily on his cock, slick with Brad’s saliva.
“So… fucking… good,” Scott said.
The first glob of cum landed on Brad’s cheek, the next on his brow. Scott milked every last bit of the release from himself, head thrown back, moaning in pleasure, covering Brad’s upturned face.
Brad licked his lips, searching for a taste of Scott’s salty release. As the tremors subsided, Scott straightened and pressed the tip of his cock against Brad’s lips again. Eagerly, Brad licked him clean, as Scott watched.
“Good boy,” Scott growled. He untangled his fingers from Brad’s hair and stepped back. Gracefully he stripped out of his clothes. Brad watched, lips parted and bruised, eager to see what came next.
Sculpted pecs and abs, taut ass, muscled calves, all were revealed to Brad’s hungry eyes. Scott turned away to lay his clothing aside, and when he turned back, the silk necktie still in his hands, Brad saw he was beginning to stiffen again. He shuddered with a mixture of awe and anticipation.
Scott’s grin was almost feral as he approached the bed again. “Give me your hands.”
With a small gasp, Brad held his hands out and watched as Scott skillfully bound them together with the necktie, then tied them to the headboard of the bed. Brad eased down against the sheets, gazed up at Scott with trust in his eyes.
“You promised to tell me if you wanted me to stop,” Scott said.
“Haven’t wanted to yet,” Brad said.
Scott stood back and looked down at Brad’s prone body, the creaminess of his flesh, the well-defined muscle, the concave dip of his belly, the length and curve of his cock. He frowned again at the bruises that marred the surface of his skin, and he whispered softly, “He will pay for those marks.”
Brad gasped, and Scott turned away. When he returned, he held a small length of leather in his hand. He climbed up on the bed, kneeling by Brad’s side. He reached over and closed his hand around Brad’s cock, squeezing gently before stroking up his length. Brad bowed up off the bed, his heels digging into the mattress, his knees falling open.
“So hard and ready,” Scott crooned. His hand fell away, and quickly, he caught up Brad’s cock and balls and fastened the leather strap around them.
Brad pulled against the secure bond of the necktie.
“Easy,” Scott soothed. He sat still for a moment, allowing Brad to adjust, and then said, “Roll over, on your hands and knees.”
His cock throbbing against the band of leather, Brad managed to roll onto his knees. His arms crossed above his head, and he spread his legs to balance a little better.
“That’s it,” Scott said. His hands smoothed over Brad’s ass and down to tease against his balls.
Brad whimpered and hunkered down, pressing his burning cheek against the pillow.
“How does that feel?” Scott asked solicitously.
“Good,” Brad managed, turning to look over his shoulder.
“Does it hurt?”
“Good.” Scott backed off the bed again and retrieved a tube of lube and a condom from his bag. He laid them both on the edge of the bed, and then turned to retrieve his belt. While Brad watched, he doubled it over and smacked it against his palm experimentally.
Brad gasped and turned his face, burying it in the pillow.
“Don’t be afraid,” Scott said.
“Not,” Brad replied, his voice muffled in the pillow.
With a wolfish grin, Scott pulled back. The slap of the belt was loud in the room, and Brad arched up off the pillow with a small cry.
“Let me hear you,” Scott urged, smacking him again. “Tell me how it feels.”
With each smack, Brad moaned, finally finding his voice. “Hurts good… so good.”
Scott dropped the belt and climbed up to kneel behind Brad again. He bent down and pressed his lips against Brad’s reddened ass while he groped for the lube. Brad collapsed back against the bed, moaning softly into the pillow.
Nudging Brad’s legs farther apart, Scott opened the lube and let a bit of the cool gel slide down the crack of Brad’s ass. As he slicked his fingers, he whispered, “You please me very much, Bradley.”
“Oh…,” Brad moaned, his face pressed against the pillow.
Scott moved behind him, kneeling between his outstretched legs. One hand steadied Brad’s hip; he bent the index finger of his other hand and pressed his knuckle against Brad’s puckered hole. Brad arched up off the bed again, mouth open in a soundless wail as Scott pushed inside.
“Scott,” Brad groaned at last. He pulled hard against the necktie.
“Hmm?” Scott said, pressing the knuckle deeper, rocking it in and out several times before extending one long finger and gently probing inside.
Brad moaned incoherently as Scott added another finger and prodded against his spot. The leather band cut into his throbbing cock, and the sound of the condom packet tearing just sent his desire to greater heights. Just when the sensation became too great, the fingers were withdrawn, and Brad’s cry of disappointment turned into a shriek of ecstasy as Scott slammed against him, cock buried to the hilt.
Hips rocking furiously, Scott reached up and yanked on the end of the necktie, releasing Brad’s hands. His body slapped against Brad’s ass, the prickly hairs on his abdomen teasing against flesh already sore from the belt.
“Fuck,” Scott growled, “so tight and hot….”
Brad balled his hands in the sheet and pushed back against each thrust.
Scott arched himself over Brad’s back, pressing him down against the pillow, hips still thrusting hard. He nipped lightly at Brad’s neck. One hand still supported Brad’s hip while the other closed over Brad’s, clenching in the sheet.
With one final, hard thrust, Scott rose up and arched back. His growl filled the room as he came powerfully. He thrust against Brad over and over.
Brad whimpered and writhed below him, his cheek sliding on the pillow. Scott finally slowed, held against him as he caught his breath, and then slid out and smacked Brad’s hip, urging him to roll over. Reaching down, he unhooked the leather strap and stroked firmly, his hand slipping easily through Brad’s precum.
Digging his heels into the bed, Brad arched up, and with a prolonged groan, he came. His entire body shuddering with the force of the release, his hands fluttered against the bed, and his eyes rolled up with the intensity.
“Beautiful,” Scott said. “So beautiful when you come, Bradley.”
The climax passed, and Scott continued to hold Brad’s cock. He bent down and nuzzled at Brad’s lips gently, said into his mouth, “You are every bit as exciting as I imagined you would be, Bradley.”
Brad raised a hand and laid it on Scott’s shoulder. “Never imagined anything like this, Scott, but….” He was silent for a moment before he said, “Perfect balance. Rough and gentle. I could get used to this.”
“I think you should,” Scott said as he released his hold and eased down on the bed. “Sleep now.”
Rolling away from each other and then settling back so they pressed their backs together, they drifted into a satisfied sleep.