Work Text:
"He-ello." Shawn tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder so he had both hands free to plant on Diesel's hips. Nobody, but nobody, was going to make the Heartbreak Kid interrupt this good of a fuck.
It was Vince, blathering on about whatever bee the brass had in their collective bonnet today, so Shawn didn't bother to be too careful. If Vince heard the slide and slap of him bouncing on Diesel's big cock, that was what he got for calling at this hour of the morning. He ought to know the Heartbreak Kid would still be partying from last night.
"Ah! No, no, just stubbed my toe, Vin Man. No need to be concerned for your Intercontinental Champion, the Heartbreak Kid is doing juuuust fiiiine." Below him, Diesel rolled his eyes and Shawn slapped him on the chest. If Big Daddy Cool still had the energy to give him guff, he could stand to put a little extra effort into giving Shawn what he needed.
Diesel flipped them over and Shawn barely managed to avoid dragging the phone off the nightstand. He couldn't hold the reciever away because one of his earrings had wrapped itself around the damn cord in the shuffle, so he bit his lip while Diesel pounded him through the mattress, trying to avoid giving Vince too much fuel for his pocket rocket to handle.
He gasped out a "Sure! Great!" when Vince proposed they meet at Titan Tower, knowing even a nimrod like Vince would have no trouble guessing exactly what was going on. Finally, once Vince was done blathering and had probably gotten himself enough spank bank material to see him through to the new millenium, he got off the line and left Shawn free to scream in peace.
"Oh, fuck! Diesel! Harder!" He raked Diesel's back with his nails. "Come on, big man, ruin me!"
Diesel kissed him hard. "You're insatiable."
He grinned. "I'm irresistable. Oh!" He clamped his knees tight on Diesel's hips as he came.
Diesel took his sweet time finishing and Shawn's dick was starting to get interested again by the time he pumped another load into him. But he was already late to Vince's stupid meeting and, after last night, he was worn out enough that a quickie wouldn't be too quick. So, once he detached himself from the phone, he threw on a low-riding pair of jeans and a cut up crop top from his tag days. Something that would show his hickies, just to make sure Vince knew what he was interrupting. After a moment's consideration, he added the IC strap to his ensemble. There. Perfect.
From the bed, Diesel cast an amused glance at him. "You gonna shower?"
Shawn laughed. "I'll just tell him it's my new cologne." He grabbed a pack of gum off the nightstand, then paused to trail a hand down Diesel's chest. "Order yourself some oysters for lunch, big man, I ain't done." Diesel's chuckle followed him out the door.
He sauntered into Vince's office a fashionable forty minutes late. It was a pretty ritzy setup for a second string announcer, but Vince was heir to the throne, after all. "Vin Man!" Shawn slid up close, relishing the flare of Vince's nostrils. "What's the news?"
"Well, Shawn, it's about your match with Razor Ramon." Vince adjusted his tie and Shawn liked to think it was him, and not the mysterious news about the match, that had him all hot and bothered. "Well, quite frankly, there's been a bit of a mix-up."
"Aw, did ol' funny Tunney forget to put my title on the line?" Shawn snapped his fingers in an exaggerated gosh-darn-it motion, then patted Vince's belly. "That's okay, Vin Man, I play for love of the game, you know that. Me and Razor will go out there and tear the house down, and may the best man win." He smiled winningly.
"As a matter of fact, it was regarding an additional stipulation." Vince cleared his throat. "The 'loser leaves town' stipulation. Nonwithstanding, President Tunney has decided that the typo will stand."
"What typo? And since when is this a loser leaves town match? Not that I won't enjoy sending Ramon packing."
"We discussed it over the phone prior to the signing." Vince gave him a disapproving stare. "What you said to me at the time was 'oh yes, that's good.'" He probably had. This morning wasn't the first conversation with Vince he'd ignored while getting ploughed. "But, in point of fact, what the contract actually stated was that the 'looser' of the match must leave town." The brush of Vince's boner against his hip didn't seem so comical anymore as Vince repeated, "The looser."
He popped his gum and tossed his hair, just to make sure Vince knew he wasn't rattled. "And just what do you mean by that, Vin Man?"
"I think you know what it means. If you wish to forfeit the match, that is, of course, your prerogative." Vince paused like he was letting Shawn consider the option. Like he didn't know there was no way in hell the Heartbreak Kid was going to forfeit his title. "I've been asked to perform the, ah, physical examination, as it were. If you'll just step this way." Vince took his elbow in hand and Shawn shook him off irritably. He followed Vince to an empty conference room. Well, almost empty.
"Hey, Boy Toy." Razor leaned against the table, chewing on a toothpick. Shawn saw his grin widen as he looked him up and down. "Busy night?"
"Wouldn't you like to know. If you want the juicy details, you'll just have to use your imagination like everybody else, pal." He stuck his gum to the underside of the conference table and made a show of taking out his earrings. "Well? Way I see it, you can either forfeit the match now, or stop your grinnin' and drop your linen. Ain't that right, Vin Man?"
Barring a miracle - a seven foot giant with three hands and a thing for machismo, maybe - Shawn was about to lose his belt and his place in the WWF thanks to stupid Jack Tunney's stupid typo. But he'd damn well steal the spotlight while he did it. He unhooked the belt, shimmying his hips as he pulled it off, and planted a reverent kiss on the face before he set it gently on the table.
"That, uh, that is correct, be that as it may," said Vince, staring as he started to slide the hem of his shirt up.
Razor just snorted and shook his head, shoving his jeans down around his thighs. Those thighs, as far as Shawn was concerned, were the best thing about the guy these days, so he took a break in his own strip tease to catch an eyeful. He decided he might have to re-evaluate his estimation of Razor's character - his dick was pretty nice too. Shawn leered openly, wondering if he might be able to coax Razor into giving him a taste after this was all over with. They used to be pals, Razor might go for it.
"Come on, McMahon. Let's get this over with."
Seeing Vince pull a pair of latex gloves and a tube if KY jelly out of his suit pocket made Shawn's heart pound. This was really happening. Vince had prepared for this, had probably discussed it with the rest of the office when they'd decided he should do the honors.
Vinced used one gloved hand to lift Razor's cock and balls out of the way while he reached farther back with the other hand. Disappointingly, Shawn couldn't catch a good view of Vince's finger sliding into him, so he just had to use his imagination while he watched Razor's jaw clench.
He met Razor's eyes then took a long, deliberate look at his crotch, watching the slow movement of Vince's wrist between his legs. Razor's cock was still soft in Vince's hand and Shawn could see the tension in the muscles in his thighs. He wondered if Ramon'd ever even had a finger up there before, surely enough people had gobbled the Bad Guy's gorgeous cock that one of them had to have shown him that old trick? Well. Maybe Shawn could be the lucky first.
Finally, Vince withdrew his hands, leaving a shiny smear of lube on Razor's shaft, and stepped back. He turned to Shawn.
"You know, this isn't fair at all," said Shawn, not realizing he was backing up until his butt hit the table. "Funny Tunney has it in for me. First the tag titles and now this. The man has some kind of sick vendetta against me, Vin Man, and it's your duty as a broadcast journalist to expose it!"
"Shawn."
"Fine, I see how it is." He slid his hands up from his hips to the hem of his shirt, arching as he dragged it up his chest and finally tossed it aside. "Is this what you wanted, Vin Man?" He ran his hands back down his chest, over the bite marks and bruises Diesel had left on him, to the waistband of his jeans. "Is this why you took the job?"
Vince made no reply as he slowly worked them down his hips, exposing himself by inches. Finally, he kicked off his shoes, let his jeans drop, and scooted back onto the table, lying back with his feet planted apart.
It took Vince's hands on his knees to remind him that he needed to spread those too. He let them flop apart and felt blood rush to his face when he heard Razor's laugh. That wasn't the only place blood was rushing, either, knowing the view Vince and Razor must have right now.
"I gotta say, chico, the Bad Guy is almost impressed." Ignoring Shawn's indignant cry of "almost?!" Razor went on "Who'd you make it with, a football team?"
The cool touch of Vince's gloved fingers on his hot, oversensitized hole made him flinch. "For your information it was a private party."
"Then I wish him luck in the Kentucky Derby."
Shawn just bit his lip to keep from whimpering as two of Vince's big fingers slid into him with no effort at all.
"You trying to take up a second sport, chico? You're gonna need to learn which side of the horse to ride." Razor paused, probably to watch Vince slide another two fingers in, filling Shawn up to the thumb joint. Then he added, "but at least you'd be the right size."
Shawn wrenched himself to a sitting position and lunged at him. "Big enough to kick your ass!"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Vince had a grip on him from the inside and when he tried to grab, thumb on Shawn's pelvic bone and fingers digging into his prostate, Shawn saw stars. He fell back, head spinning, thighs clamped around Vince's wrist, and he couldn't tell if it'd made him come or go soft. "One more outburst like that and I will disqualify you. Besides," he added, in an eminantly reasonable tone, "you are unquestionably on the small side for a WWF Superstar. Now. Shall we continue or would you prefer to forfeit the match?"
Cheeks burning with humiliation, Shawn spread his legs for Vince again. He could feel Vince's fingers wiggle inside him.
"Well, you certainly do have some... capacity, as it were," Vince said sounding, to Shawn's ear, more than a little disappointed. Two fingers from Vince's other hand slid into him and Vince grunted. "I must admit, even considering your reputation, I expected a more competitive matchup."
"Hold the color commentary, Vin Man, you're supposed to be the ref." He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, not wanting to show that Vince's hand inside him, his fingers probing around, were getting him hot. Of course, with his cock filling up right in front of Vince's eyes, there probably wasn't much hope of that.
"I apologize, you're right." He withdrew his fingers slowly then, with both hands palm to palm, pushed them slowly, inexorably into Shawn. His fingers scrabbled on the table and he spread his legs wide to keep from closing them instinctively.
He stared up at the lights, panting ang trying desperately not to moan. Vince's hands weren't as big as Diesel's but they were big, and he wasn't content to just fuck Shawn with them, he was pulling them apart, stretching him.
"Vince?" he gasped, barely able to find the breath with Vince's huge hands prying him open like a speculum, letting Vince and Razor look deep inside him. "Did the contract say - is the title held up?"
"No," said Vince, calmly, like Shawn couldn't feel his breath tickling his insides.
He pulled one knee up and stomped down as hard as he could on Vince's face.
Vince reeled back, stretching Shawn painfully wide as Vince yanked his arms out for balance.
After some incoherent sputtering, Vince shouted, "Razor Ramon, you are the winner as the result of a disqualification. And you, Shawn-"
He struggled up to sit on the edge of the table and was gratified to see Vince checking his nose for blood. "Yeah, yeah, barred from competing in a WWF sanctioned match for a period of no less than blah blah blah." He spat at Vince, hitting him on the cheek. "And I'm still Intercontinental Champion. So suck on that, Vin Man."
He could see the veins standing out in Vince's neck. He wondered if Vince was going to try to fuck him. He wasn't sure if he wanted it or not. Just in case he decided he didn't, he slid one hand back to grab the title so he'd have something to bean Vince with if he decided otherwise.
But instead of throwing him back down on the table, Vince just stormed out. Probably going to go jack off thinking about him, Shawn thought, since he didn't have the stones to handle the real deal.
Wincing, he slid off the table. His legs were shaking too badly to bend over and grab his jeans, so he held himself steady with the table while he snagged them with his toes and kicked his knee back so he could grab them.
"What?" he snapped at Razor. "See something green?"
Razor chuckled, chewing his toothpick and slowly stalking towards Shawn. "You putting those back on already? Way you were looking before, Boy Toy, I thought you might have something you wanted first."
Now that was more like it. Shawn tossed his hair and turned to grin at Razor. "Well, I don't know, 'Bad Guy.' What did you have in mind?"
Razor flicked his toothpick aside and dragged Shawn to him for a hard kiss. Abandoning his jeans on the table, Shawn threw his arms around Razor and buried his hands in his hair. Eager to get at that beautiful cock, Shawn slid one hand down Razor's chest to the waistband of his pants, unhooking the button and zipper with ease and reaching inside. Razor's dick was hot and hard in his hand, dripping already.
"You like what you saw?" he breathed against Razor's lips.
"You already know you're sexy," Razor said with a smile, "I heard it in a song somewhere." He kissed Shawn some more, holding him, stroking his hair, letting him play with his dick.
"What are you so friendly for anyways?" Shawn panted as Razor lifted him up and sat him on the table. "I got news for you: You didn't beat me, and I still got my belt." Shawn nipped his ear and got a slap across the face, not too hard, just enough to get the message across. No teeth. Fine.
Razor brought a hand up to cup his cheek where he'd hit him. "Because in thirty days, when you haven't defended the championship in all that time, Razor Ramon is going to take his belt anyways, chico."
He hadn't thought about that part. "I'll burn that bridge when I come to it, you just wait."
"Uh-huh." Razor grabbed a double handful of his ass and pulled him closer, hanging half off the table. The cool air where Vince had left him gaping open made Shawn feel empty and desperate. "We'll see."
"You just here to jaw or are you gonna do me? 'Cause, if you're wasting my time, there's plenty of other dicks in the sea."
Razor laughed. "Boy Toy, I'm already in you." He squeezed Shawn's cheeks together and Shawn felt him, just the head, but still. He moaned helplessly and wrapped his legs around Razor's waist.
"God, Raz."
"I know, chico." Razor kissed his neck almost tenderly. "You know, Shawn, we ain't been so close these past few months, but right now, Razor Ramon is gonna take care-" Razor pulled him close, sliding the rest of the way in "-of you."
Shawn clung to him and tilted his head back. "Mark me up some, let everyone see." He rocked his hips, rubbing himself against Razor's abs. The feeling of Razor's dick inside him was good but not enough, not after what Vince had done to him.
Razor sucked his neck obligingly, hiking Shawn's legs up higher and leaning him back a little, adjusting the angle of his thrusts. Oh God, that was better. It was so much better. Shawn moaned and brought a hand down to jack himself frantically, hanging on to Razor for dear life with the other arm.
Every thrust made his hips jerk like he'd been shocked. God, Razor was good. How'd he ever go so long without getting into his pants? He came screaming and hoped Vince's office was close enough he'd hear it.
Razor fucked him a little while longer before he pulled out and set Shawn gently on his feet. "Hey. Heartbreak, you think you could give a guy a hand?"
Shawn gave him both, wrapping them around his thick cock. It was already slippery with KY and Diesel's jizz, so Shawn's hands glided easily up and down. "Hey," he panted, leaning his cheek against Razor's shoulder, "you wanna try something?"
With a cocky smile, Razor shrugged. "Show me what you got, chico."
Shawn sank to his knees and slid one hand back, over Razor's balls and up to his hole. He cast a questioning glance up and, when Razor nodded, licked a long stripe up his thigh while he slid one finger into him, other hand still working his cock. He didn't go ass to mouth but if he didn't get to swallow Razor's cock then, by God, he'd take this opportunity to get a taste of those thighs.
Groaning, Razor sank a hand into his hair and inched his legs apart. Shawn fingered him expertly - you could bet your bottom dollar anyone who didn't like getting fingerbanged by the Heartbreak Kid didn't like getting fingerbanged by nobody - and the gentle rocking of Razor's hips told him the Bad Guy was appreciating his efforts.
Shawn sucked the soft skin of Razor's inner thigh. He and his belt might be banished, but Razor'd have a nice bruise to remember him by. He could tell how close Razor was and he squeezed his cock, jacking it faster and aiming for his face. "Come on, give it to me."
He caught a lot of it in his mouth and swallowed it down, but they weren't kidding when they said Ramon was oozing machismo. Ah, well, he thought, licking his lips, he'd heard somewhere it was good for your hair. Like an egg conditioner. He eased his finger out of Razor and out of his pants.
Chucking Shawn under the chin while he tucked his dick back in his pants, Razor said, "You know what, Boy Toy? When you get back to the Fed, I'm gonna give you a title shot."
Shawn rolled his eyes. "Right back at'cha. If I feel like it."