Every week after the slam, there were always the participants who wanted to talk about it. Like, actually talk about the slam itself. Maybe why it happened, maybe how it happened, there was always something that “needed” to be discussed somehow.
Every year, the one participant who insisted on gathering everyone together to have an actual discussion about the slam and its events would emphatically tell people that this time things were serious. It wasn’t just a joke anymore, and they would make this happen if it killed them.
Of course, the discussion never would happen. It was just kind of nice to be able to humor whoever it was.
Charlotte won. Charlotte fucking won, because of course she fucking did. And Becky lost. Again.
But she wouldn’t lose anymore. She let that part of herself out and when that part took over, things happened. She likes what she did to Charlotte tonight. She likes Carmella riding her thigh even more.
“You’d love it if I choked you out, wouldn’t you?,” Becky whispers. “You love that fucking hold I put on you all the time. That’s why you kept picking fights with me, isn’t it? Hoping I’d put you in it, you little slut.”
Carmella moans and tightens her grip on Becky’s shoulder. Her hips twitch a little.
“You and me are on the same side now, right?,” Becky murmurs. “We’ll go get Charlotte, bring her down, get that title, and then you’re gonna ride my face till you scream.”
Carmella whimpers at that, and tightens her legs so hard around Becky’s thigh she almost loses feeling in it.
Sure, she liked being friendly and unassuming. But she likes this much, much better.
Alexa elbows another shelf and curses. “Come the fuck on,” she hisses. “Keep your damn claws to yourself or we’re not doing this!”
The demon looks at her slightly dolefully. “I said I was sorry.”
“You’d better fuck like a damn machine to make up for all these bruises.”
The demon presses her against the door. “Oh, trust me,” it breathes, “I’ve never had any sort of complaint.”
“Bring it on,” Alexa says defiantly. This was almost certainly going to be good.
“So basically everyone just loses it?”
“Yup,” Sasha confirmed to Zelina as they turned a corner. “If you compete, it’s pretty much overwhelming. You just find the nearest suitable person and fuck their brains out. Case in point,” she adds, nodding at AJ Styles and Randy Orton, who are viciously making out and rolling on the floor. Orton already has two fingers up AJ’s ass.
A few feet down the hall, Corey Graves is sucking off both members of the Revival, who are fastidiously avoiding eye contact with each other until Dash mumbles something that sounds like “fuck it” and kisses Dawson.
The sound of a door opening causes Sasha to tear her eyes away. Trent Seven and Tyler Bate stand in the doorway, both pitching obvious tents.
“Occupied?,” Bate asks loudly.
“Oh, yeah,” Sasha says emphatically as she backs Zelina into the wall. “So’s she.” Zelina smiles sweetly at them as they leave. It’s always good to be polite.
Charlotte is sitting on a box in the area outside the locker room when Owens comes up behind her.
“Heard your BFF beat you up,” he says to her tartly.
“Heard Braun ran you over.”
“Heard you hate the slam.”
Charlotte spins to face him. “Heard you’re packing a Coke can.”
Owens’ smirk is a mile wide. “Heard that supply closet’s empty.”
She grins back. “Lead the way.”
God, Nikki fucking loves the slam.
She walks out through the parking lot, passing Shayna eating Ember out on the hood of her car and Adam Cole pounding Dolph in his passenger seat. Everyone is just so occupied. Things are serene, calm almost.
“Hey, pretty lady.”
It’s the one guy from NXT-the dude who calls himself Dream.
“Aren’t you into dudes?”
He uncrosses his ankles and stops leaning on her rental. “The Dream is very attracted to the male form. But, the Dream likes pretty things. And you are very pretty.”
“So you want to slam with me, Dream?”
“The Dream likes pretty things,” he repeats, openly ogling her chest. Okay. That’s an answer.
“I’m driving. We’re waiting until we get back to my room-none of this backseat stuff-and you are not gonna go early on me.”
Dream grins at her as she unlocks the door. “The Dream was not expecting anything less.”
God, Nikki fucking loves the slam.
Ronda edges along one of the walls of the hallway. She just has to make it back to her locker room. Then she’ll be safe from all the-she falters as Liv Morgan drags Braun through a nearby door.
The impulse to find someone-anyone-and do everything to them rises once more. Everyone who warned her about it called it the “slam”. Several had offered to spend her first one with her.
She winces as a moan that sounds alarmingly like Liv emerges from behind the door. Just a few more steps, she wills. Just a few more-
That train of thought dissapates when she collides with something solid and warm and big-no. She can’t think about it or even make eye contact.
“Why don’t ya watch where yer goin’,” an accented voice comes from next to her. “Someone might think yer runnin’ away from somethin’.”
Great. Drew “I’m incredibly hot and can manhandle Roman Reigns and I’m single and smell good and have a crap ton of people talking about how good I am in bed oh and my accent is way too attractive” McIntyre.
God, she’s not making it out of here alive. Or at least with her dignity intact.
“You avoidin’ the slam?”
“Yes,” she says with some effort, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” she adds as somewhat of an afterthought.
“Pity. We would be good together.”
The double doors at the end of the hallway swing open. Ruby Riott and-is that Curtis Axel?-stumble in. They take no notice of McIntyre or Ronda as they start to undress. Ronda throws up her hands and starts to walk back the way she came.
McIntyre catches up to her, strolling alongside. “So, just to be clear, there is no chance of sleeping with the baddest woman on the planet, hmm?”
“Nope,” she says flippantly, even though every atom in her body is telling her to kiss that stupid smile off his face. “Nobody can handle this.”
“Shame. I had some ideas. Do you have any idea at all how hot it would be to lick you out till you cry?”
Ronda stops. She can feel her own heartbeat in her ears. “You mean that?”
“I give as good as I get,” she warns him, finally making eye contact.
“Oh, I’m counting on that.”
A strangled groan from Axel echoes down the hall.
“I’ve got a rental for the next four hours,” he offers.
“You really think you can make me cry in just four hours?”
“I know I can.”
“Fine,” she says, taking the keys out of his pocket. “But just so you know, if I cry, you’re coming till you can’t anymore. Let’s go.”
Maryse tugs Lana into the bathroom.
“Look,” she whispers. “I get why you’re nervous. But your husband is sulking and my husband is getting pinned to the wall by Daniel Bryan. They’re busy. It’s okay. You even got permission.”
One of the stall doors bangs open. Renee, Charly, and Brie stand there.
“My husband’s fucking yours, yes?,” Brie asks calmly. Maryse nods the affirmative.
Renee’s grin is wicked. “Care to join?”
Lana has never locked a door faster in her life.
“Think they believed it?,” Tommoso mutters to Johnny.
“Definitely,” Johnny mutters back.
They’re sitting in Johnny’s car. They can’t be seen together, it would destroy everything they’ve worked so hard for. So they hide. Soon, they won’t have to anymore, but for now, hiding is important.
“Next step’s a go.”
“All right, next step.”
“Candice sends her love. Says that when we come back to Florida you aren’t leaving the bedroom for days.”
Tommoso’s grin is sharp. “Can’t resist me.”
Johnny’s expression is one of pure joy.
“Okay. Now,” he instructs, “you will take me back to my room and fuck me like you hate me.”
“Why’s everyone jonesing after the evil so hard?,” Tommoso complains, but he starts the car anyways.
Kaitlyn waits around. Her backstage pass gleams in the light. It’s been awhile since her last slam, but she certainly hasn’t forgotten what she wants out of it. She just hasn’t found quite the right person yet.
There’s suddenly a figure across from her. She can see him out of the corner of her eye.
“Kaitlyn,” she says loudly and clearly.
“Pete,” the reply comes back, softer, but clear still, and slightly British.
“Actual last name or done talking?”
And once again suddenly, he has his arms around her waist. Pete is solid and stands his ground when she leans into him.
Much later, Kaitlyn decides, as Pete grips her hips so hard he leaves obvious bruising that leaves her gasping, that she might have to keep him.
Billie holds the phone up to her candle, on the floor in front of her. “The dark is good tonight,” she tells Aleister. Video-Aleister nods.
“Tu me manques, my love. There is no dark like the one I share with you.”
She can feel herself blush. “Tu me manques to you as well. You are missed.”
He inclines his head slightly. “The eye.”
Billie moves the camera up to her neck. “It’s changed. I’m not sure who, but it’s very strong. They would be highly compatible with both of us.”
There’s no response from him. She rolls her eyes. “Are you staring at my tits again?”
“They’re nice and I haven’t been able to get it up in three weeks! What am I supposed to do?”
“Well,” she murmurs. “We’ll just have to fix that, now won’t we?” She can feel his gaze as she takes her top off and he disrobes as well.
The lights flicker. Billie can feel someone else behind her now. She whirls around to discover EC3.
Everything becomes so much more clear in about a millisecond.
“Oh,” he says, leaning casually against the wall. “This was just getting good. Don’t stop on my account, please.”
Billie and Aleister lock eyes and instantly agree. She stalks over to him and hesitates just a moment from his lips. “I’m Billie,” she breathes.
“And you are-interested?”
“I am highly interested in both of you and your little gothy thing. You’re both hot. I am very, very into you. I am also very, very into him.”
Billie nods attentively. “Aleister!,” she calls.
“Yes, my love?,” the phone on the ground issues.
“Do you have any ideas on what to do to our new friend here?”
“A few,” Ethan whispers into her ear. “I’ve got a whole damn list for both of you.”
Billie pulls back a bit so she can wrestle him onto the ground, which he lets her do.
“How sizable of a dent could we make in that tonight?”
“Please tell me you took the paint off before this,” Kairi pants into Jeff’s shoulder.
“What if I told you I didn’t-” He’s cut off as she clenches around him. They both moan.
“We could stop.”
“Except that we can’t,” he voices. “I mean, we definitely could-”
“No. Don’t you-oh right there-dare stop.”
“But you’ll have paint all over. It might stain your clothes.”
“Why are we having this conversation while you’re two seconds away from making me come?”
“We could stop.”
“Don’t you dare stop.”
Dean and Seth are just talking, thanks very much Roman, when the door to the room bursts open and Kyle O’Reilly and Roderick Strong fall in, mouths gripping onto each other greedily.
Seth rolls his eyes. “Hey! Guys! Taken!”
The two abruptly freeze and fly apart as if they were set on fire. They’re both rapidly turning red.
“You can’t tell,” O’Reilly says quietly. “Adam. You can’t tell Adam. It’ll make things weird, and we swore it wouldn’t make anything weird. Okay?”
Strong hasn’t moved his gaze away from the ground.
“Yeah, man, we won’t tell long as you don’t tell anybody bout us,” Dean drawls, sweeping his gaze over the humiliated duo.
O’Reilly’s eyes get really big after that, like saucers, and he nods vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. C’mon, Roddy.”
“Remind you of anyone,” Dean says to Seth drily as the door shuts once again. It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
He smiles a little. “Us. That time we got caught by Taker and we were so damn scared. You were absolutely pin-silent and I was talking like crazy. And we made him promise not to tell Roman.”
Dean’s expression becomes amused. “Who knows. If they turn out anything like us, we might have competition for hottest trio.”
“Enough reminiscing. We have a champion waiting for us.”
“He knows I get first crack at you, right?”
“Yep, but I’m still not sure how us winning translates to you fucking me first.”
“It just does, that’s how.”
And they all ended up where it always ended-tires.
Their usual target had already left in a haze of shame and bad tattoos.
“Thoughts?,” Charlotte said, surveying the group.
Dean’s eyes lit up a truly dangerous amound, the way they got when he thought about tacks or caskets or chainsaws or setting someone on fire (or the way Seth looked at Roman). “I may have an idea or two.”
Kurt found them next to the car. “Fuck that guy, huh,” he said, leaning against the wall.
“Yep,” said Charlotte. “Fuck that guy.”
There a few silent moments passed.
“You know what,” Kurt said. “He’s never done me any favors. Fuck that guy and his cue ball head.”