Page 24 of False Comeback
“If you knew what you were doing, you’d know that you don’t fucking go off-script,” I shouted. “We rehearse for a reason. You can’t just start doing whatever the fuck you want in the ring. It’s fucking dangerous.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he snarled again, flinging the towel to the floor as he stalked closer and glared at me. “Get over it, Vince. You lost.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I yelled, my head pounding with fury and frustration. “Holt could fire you for being a liability. Was it really fucking worth it, you asshole? Just to get a win over me that wasn’t even real?”
“It was real, though.” His lips spread into a vicious smile, showing off his short fangs. “I pinned you for real. If you’d broken free you could’ve continued the match as planned, but you couldn’t do it.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, stepping closer so my heaving chest brushed his. We were both covered in sweat from our match, heat pumping off of us. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole. God, I can’t fucking stand you.”
“I can’t stand you either,” he snarled back.
“Oh yeah? You didn’t seem to mind me when you were choking on my dick,” I heard myself say, wanting to make him feel small. Pathetic. “Couldn’t swallow my cum fast enough.”
Two angry spots of colour bloomed on his cheeks. “Shut up.”
“You were moaning like a fucking whore for it,” I said in a rough, mean voice. “Did it make you feel better to pin me, Crossbody? Make you feel all big and powerful instead of the desperate, pathetic slut you are?”
“Shut. Up,” he said again, his breaths shallowing, that flush spreading down his neck and over his heaving chest.
“Can’t find someone willing to fuck you?” I continued in a condescending voice, because I could see that I was getting to him, even though my gut churned with guilt as the cruel words tumbled from my mouth. I knew I was going too far—being too much of an asshole, even to him—but I was so fucking angry. So I kept going. “You have to settle for the guy you hate just to get a cock in your mouth?”
“I do hate you,” he snarled. “I fucking despise you. The thought of what happened makes my skin crawl.”
“I don’t believe you.” I smirked up at him. “I think you loved it. I think you loved me calling you a dirty little cumslut and fucking your throat. I think you want to do it again.”
“I’d rather cut off my own hands than touch you again,” he snarled.
“Then why are you hard?” I jerked my chin down at the erection pressing into my stomach, pulling his tiny briefs taut.
His entire face turned deeper purple in a rush as he stumbled back.
“It’s adrenaline,” he snapped, his voice wavering a little. Then he blurted, “You’re hard too.”
“No I’m fucking no—” I looked down and froze when I saw my dick straining against my silver shorts, trapped uncomfortably in my jock. Jerking my head back up, I glared at him in fury. “Yeah, well, it’s just adrenaline. Like you said.”
“Get the fuck out of my dressing room, Burke.” His face was still flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“Make me,” I heard myself say, taking a threatening step closer.
He did the same. “I will.”
“Do it then.”
“I will.”
When he didn’t move, I laughed roughly and gave his chest a tiny shove. “Where’s all the fucking confidence you had when you were pinning me in the ring? Make me fucking leave.”
He shoved me back, then kept on shoving me until I stumbled and landed on my ass on the couch. His nostrils were flaring with his furious, ragged breaths, lips peeled back from his teeth. And his dick was still hard.
So was mine.
“What are you going to do?” My heart was beating even faster than it had been in the ring. “Suck my dick even worse than last time to get rid of me?”
“I made you come so hard your legs were shaking,” he snarled, looming over me.
“No, I made myself come.” I shot him a vicious smile. “You were just the hole I used.”
His dick bucked in his briefs, and then he was suddenly climbing aggressively on top of me, straddling my lap and shoving my shoulders back into the couch. His wings snapped open wide behind him, shivering rapidly with his anger.
