Simple Truths

Jackson dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the blood that welled from the split in his lip. The grin on his lips was predatory as he stared at the woman across from him. He was a foot taller than her, and on a good day that might have been an advantage. Any other day but today, that is. Barefoot, he was dressed in nothing but a pair of black workout shorts that looked like they'd seen better days.

They had an audience on Ragnarok's dance floor even though the club had only been open for an hour. A few patrons had taken a break from their beer swilling, watching as Jackson and the ebony haired woman beat each other up. She returned his grin, her eyes filled with bloodlust-- like a Valkyrie, she got off on this sort of thing. "You're holding back," she sounded angry, "don't hold back because you think Buttercup over there's gonna pass out if I make you bleed."

"Her name's Alyvia," he snapped, circling away from her. He took a deep breath, pulling the cool air into his lungs, feeling the twinge in his side. She'd kicked him hard enough to nearly crack his ribs. Already a bruise was forming."I don't think you want me to go full bore at you, Kitty. I'm wound a bit tight." His voice was harsh and bitter, filled with more gravel than usual.

"Aww, what's the matter? Did wifey-poo number seven kick you outta bed already?" Kitty's smirk was pure acid.

"Five, not seven, and that's only if you count Aurora," he rolled his eyes, "which I don't simply because I had that shit annulled when she turned out to be a fuckin' psychopath. Trying to poison me like that Dixie Chicks song wasn't quite what I had in mind for the one month anniversary. But yeah, Lyv's the fourth, alright?" Anyone else he would've flattened for the mere mention of his pathetic love life. But they'd been friends for years, despite the fact that they never had managed to make that five year travesty of a marriage work. There was a lot of give and take between them, there always had been.

"Touché!" She snorted in derision, "alright so hit me like you mean it, Jax." She goaded him, her green eyes sparking with anger now. "Don't fuckin' hold back on me! You think Amy Campbell's gonna give you a free ride out there? No, fuck no!"

"You sure you want to do this?" He gave her one last chance to back down. She knew he needed to work off the yips, clear his head so he could do what he was born to do in that ring. They both knew that, but he was still caught up in the real world where it wasn't quite kosher to beat the shit out of the women you used to share a bed with.

"Can't believe you divorced Ryann after only eight months of marriage." She was trying to get under his skin. "Although lookin' at her, I can see why you did. She's definitely an upgrade, Jax. I like her."

"An upgrade?" His eyes drifted to where Lyv watched from the VIP lounge, removed from the sound but still able to see quite well through the glass. "Yeah, she's more than that. She makes me feel alive."

Seeing that smile on her face, that even calm in the face of the violence that he called a profession made him feel warm. There was a grin on his lips that lit up his eyes. He'd known she was a keeper from the first message he'd gotten back from her on Twitter.

---

A few hours after the flirting via the Internet had begun for the second day in a row, Alyvia Nouvelle (or Lyv as she was known to go by), was on her way to Jackson Avenue in Long Island City. As she sat in the back of the cab clad in a silky red dress with a warm winter coat over it, she felt nervous. In her stomach she could feel the flutter of butterfly wings as her fingers went instinctively to her blonde hair, brushing through it. After going out for a few innocent drinks with him the night before, she knew she'd have a good time. Jackson had been nothing but charming the night before and while she knew that she would eventually loosen up, it was just the time leading up to it that was playing around with her nerves.

"Here ya go, ma'am." The cab driver said as he put the cab into park and glanced back at her. "This here's the place I was told to bring you to."

"Thank you." She said politely and handed him some money to pay her fare. It was more than she owed, but she didn't care. "And keep the change." Before he could thank her, she had already grabbed her overnight bag and exited the vehicle.

The lavish apartment building loomed in front of her, causing her eyes to go wide as his words to her replayed in her head. He'd called it cozy, but the twelve stories that stretched towards the night sky looked anything but. "Cozy? Yeah this is cozy, alright." She said to herself in disbelief and then laughed a little. As she walked, the heels of her open-toed red pumps echoed on the concrete and when she made it to the door, the doorman let her in, smiling in welcome as though he'd been expecting her. She gave him a nod as a greeting and continued on towards the elevator that he pointed her at. Lyv was taken up to what she now knew was his penthouse and the whole time in the elevator she played with a strand of her hair.

The elevator doors opened and she was let out. Thanking the other man who had brought her up to the correct floor, she walked down the hall until she came to his door. Before she entered; she slipped off her coat, rolled her shoulders a little, and ran a hand through her hair for the millionth time. She'd touched up her make-up in the cab and felt it was either now or never.

Putting her hand on the knob, she turned it and swung the door gently open. Peering in, she could see that his penthouse was anything but cozy. The central living room was gigantic, bracketed by floor to ceiling windows that gave an impressive view of the Manhattan skyline. "Holy shit..." she managed to say to herself as she eased the door shut behind her. Clearing her throat and setting her coat and bag down by the front door, she looked around.

"Hello?" She called out, feeling the pit of her stomach drop. It was go time.

In answer to her voice, there was a squeak somewhere in the huge loft apartment and then the white noise of falling water cut off into an abrupt silence. A few seconds later the unmistakable sound of bare feet on the hardwood floor came to her ears before the nearly naked and heavily tattooed Jackson appeared from the direction of what was likely the bedroom. Wrapped in nothing more than a towel around his waist, he left nothing to her imagination.

"Hey," he said softly, stopping in the middle of the giant living room as he stared at her, letting lose a low whistle, "wow. You look amazing. That picture definitely didn't do you justice."

Once her eyes set on him in just the towel, her face went beet red and she bit down on her lower lip. After about five seconds of silence and staring on her part, she shook her head and gave him a smile. "Yeah, you said you liked red and I thought you might like this." She crossed her bare arms against her chest and glanced around the penthouse.

"So this is your cozy place?" She asked with a smirk, taking a few steps closer toward him. "It's not quite what I pictured, but I like it. And the street name... was it named after you?" She asked honestly.

His grin was teasing, but she didn't know him quite well enough to get that, "oh yeah. They definitely did. I'm a pretty big deal, you know. Could probably get you those reservations at <i>Dorsia</i> any night of the week." Closing the gap between them, he bent down and picked up her coat, somehow managing to keep that towel from slipping. Acting like a perfect gentleman, he went to hang it up in the closet beside the door. With his back still to her, he started talking again, "I wasn't sure if you were hungry or not, so I took the liberty of ordering some Chinese from the place around the corner. If you're not, it'll keep."

"I don't really feel like eating right now." She glanced around, taking the whole place in. Inhaling, she let out a deep breath and gave a smile his way. Her eyes were also taking in the tattoos on his back. The picture he'd shown her definitely had not done him justice, either. "I'm getting kind of thirsty though," they both knew she needed something to loosen her up a little and she needed it fast.

After locking the door, he returned to her side and caught her hand, giving it a squeeze before leading her into the kitchen. "I've got Corona, Bud Light and some vintage Beaujolais. Or..." he shrugged, "I can make you a drink. One of the perks of owning a bar is that you get to sample all sorts of shit. I've got lots of liquor, so whatever you want, it's yours." The last few words were said with a twist that made it clear he wasn't just talking about beverages.

"Something kind of strong, I think." Hell if there had been a bottle of Tequila in front of her; she would've taken a swig of it just to get things going. "And you know that whole whatever I want thing? Well it goes both ways." She straightened up and rolled her shoulders back. "So... yeah..." She placed a hand on the counter and kept her focus on him. Yeah it wouldn't take much for him to seduce her. He pretty much already had.

"Well, you were enjoying the Cuervo a bit too much last night," he said with a wink, moving away from her to open a cupboard, "but I've got some lemons in the fridge if you want to do a few shots with me. I know I've got an unfair advantage over you on that. I've got to have at least two hundred pounds on you." That smirk grew as he set down three shot glasses, uncapping the bottle of Tequila as if he'd read her mind. He filled all three and then set down the bottle, going over and opening up the fridge to pull out some wedges of lemon that had already been cut up and were rested in a little glass bowl.

"So here's what we're going to do: I'll drink two to your one. Fair enough?"

Lyv gave him a soft little grin and nodded. "I think it sounds very fair." Without hesitating, she placed a hand on his bare shoulder and looked up at him. "How could I say no to that?" Taking her hand off of his shoulder, she reached over and grabbed one of the glasses. With her other hand, she took a lemon wedge. Holding her shot glass out toward him, she thought for a moment. "Well here goes nothing."

Bringing the glass to her lips, she threw the shot back and slammed the glass onto the counter. Quickly, she put the lemon wedge in her mouth and sucked on it for a moment. Tequila wasn't her favorite drink by any means, but it did get her buzzed quickly. This way she'd be relaxed for him. Wincing a little, she took the wedge out of her mouth and looked back up at him. "Your turn, Sweetie Pie." Yep the aftereffect was good.

His eyes didn't leave hers as he picked up one of the lemon wedges and rubbed it across her lips. Before she had time to react he shotgunned both of the glasses and then leaned in to kiss her, licking the taste of lemon from her lips. "Nice," he murmured, hesitating for a few seconds there before pulling back, leaving her hanging.

She stayed frozen for a moment, her lips still pursed as she looked up at him. Disappointment flashed across her face for a split second and then was replaced with a smile. "Yeah, I'll say." Grabbing the bottle, she poured herself another shot. "Real nice in fact." Another lemon wedge went into her other hand as she did what she had done before. Luckily for her, this one went down a little smoother.

Once her glass had been put back into the countertop, her eyes drifted back up to focus on him. "So..." a flirty grin crossed her face, "your turn. Think you can keep up?"

"Fun fact," he said as he picked up the bottle and filled his glasses, "this is what got me through my first couple years as a wrestler. Couldn't afford painkillers. Didn't have any insurance... so I got loaded every night after I wrestled and slept it off. Guess what I'm saying is: I can handle it."

He downed the first one, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. The second one followed right after and then he shuddered, reaching for the lemon wedge he'd rubbed over her lips. This time he put it into his mouth and bit into it, sucking out the sour juice. "God," he said as he spat out the rind, "that stuff still tastes like shit, even after all these years."

"Then..." she put her hand back on his shoulder and slowly slid it down 'til it met with his hand, "how about if we take a break with the shots? To be honest I wanna get a little more comfortable." She leaned in closer to him so that their arms were touching. "That is unless you had any other ideas." She couldn't stop herself from glancing down at his towel and then back up at him. "Though I'm thinking maybe not?" A little giggle escaped her lips as her head rested against his arm as well.

"Oh, I'm easy, babe." He chuckled, the sound more a deep rumble in his throat, "if you wanna get comfortable, you can. If you wanna sit by a fire and sip wine and listen to jazz, we can do that, too." His hand closed over hers and he lifted it to put it against his chest. "But I'm starting to think you're afraid of me, and that's not good."

"I'm not." She said softly, looking back up at him again. "I'm just kind of nervous, hence the shots. I can talk a really big game on a computer, but now that it's happening-- just kind of anxious." Her body turned so that she was now facing him, hand still in his. "But I'll be fine and to be very honest with you, I'm really happy to be here with you." She blushed a little as she revealed this next little fact. "kind of haven't been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"Good." He said with a grin, "since we're being honest, you've been on my mind pretty much nonstop since that first DM a couple days ago." He took a step back, still holding her hand and led her from the kitchen, towards the black leather couch that rested in front of the floor to ceiling windows. "Sit down. Take off your shoes... and whatever else you might like. I'm going to slip into something a bit less... wet."

"Okay, sounds good." She made her way to the couch and took a seat, unstrapping her red pumps and slipping them off. It felt good to free her feet. She brought her legs up underneath her and sat on them, contemplating whether or not she should do away with the dress or wait a little bit. "So are you going to put on pants or I thought there was your house rule about no pants after ten pm?" She said to him with a wide grin, obviously getting more relaxed.

He paused in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against the jamb as he turned to look back at her. "No pants then. Can't break all the rules on our second date, now can I?" Before she could say anything else, he disappeared into the darkened room, leaving her all alone with the view of the Manhattan skyline beyond the windows.

As he disappeared, she thought for a moment and quickly hopped off of the couch. He had surprised her before when he came out in just the towel. Now it was her turn to change things up on him. Slipping out of the red dress, she tossed it on a chair and sat back on the couch, dressed in nothing but a crimson silk bra and matching panties. Only this time, her back was propped against the arm of the leather couch and her legs were in front of her, one crossed over the other. "This couch is really comfy." She said in his direction as she shivered a little. The leather was cold against her skin. "I may have to try to bargain it out of you to let me take it home." She was obviously joking.

"As much as I'd love to give away my-" he fell silent as he reappeared in the doorway, dressed in a pair of black workout shorts. Eyes widening, he took in the sight of her posing on his couch and then grinned as he reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his BlackBerry. He snapped a picture, still smiling, "now that's a view I want to commit to memory."

He crossed the room in a few long strides and held out the phone to her, letting her see the picture he'd just taken before the screen went black. "You ever thought of modeling? I mean, hell, could you imagine how quickly this couch would sell if this was the image in the commercials?"

"Nah, I think there's only one guy I wanna model for right now." She lifted herself off of the couch and got to her feet. "And it looks like he just got his first shot." She took a couple steps in his direction and grinned up at him. It faded slightly as she looked up at him seriously. "Hey just do me a favor and make sure that just stays with you, 'kay?" She bit down on her lower lip. "Please?"

"Like our little game of secrets," he said, powering off the phone and tossing it on the coffee table, "just between you an' me." Looking down at the screen as it darkened, he nodded before meeting her eyes again, "I'm all yours. No interruptions. No outside world or Twitter. Nothing on my mind right now other than making you the happiest girl in the world."

She stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "How about if we go into the bedroom? I'd say the couch but it's kind of cold." She took both of his hands in hers and turned so that she could lead him backwards toward where she had seen come out of before. "And on that making me happy subject, you're doing a damn good job of it right now. Ya know a girl could get used to this kinda treatment."

"I hope so," he said with that rough laugh, "because the way things are shaping up, I'm gonna want to make you mine." As they passed through the door, she saw that there was a red lava lamp going on the night table beside the bed, just enough to provide mood lighting. Cocking his head in that direction, Jackson made an attempt to explain it, "I'm big on nostalgia... so don't mind the lamp. It's as much a part of me as my muscle cars."

The bedroom was huge, and so was the bed-- it had to be at least a California King-sized, maybe bigger, and it had half a dozen pillows arranged at the top of it. Like he'd told her on the Internet, the sheets were black and white. Other than the red lamp, the entire room was black and white.

She looked at the lava lamp and grinned, looking back at him. "I absolutely love it, Jax. It just fits, ya know?" After a moment of silence, once she had a chance to look around, she sighed. "Look, I just want you know that I don't expect anything. I know you have other things to deal with and if after tonight you just want this to be it-- that's okay." She didn't want him to feel pressured into them being anything, knowing that he already had a wife. She liked him; actually she was liking him more and more with each passing minute.

"So I just wanted to tell you that." She gave him a little smile and walked over to the large bed, hopping onto it, her legs hanging over the sides. Her hands went palm down onto the surface of the bed and she looked at the floor. "I like the bed." She said softly.

"In the interest of continuing this trend of honesty," he began, sitting down beside her, "I should probably tell you something." He stopped, reaching out and touching her shoulder before letting his fingers drift across to her neck before delving into her hair. "Do you want to know what it is?"

"Yeah... I do." She said with a sigh, his hand on her felt good. Her head tilted to the side-- her eyes staying on him. "You can tell me anything and I promise it'll stay right here." She rested a hand on his leg and leaned against him.

"Goddamn," he murmured, looking deep into her eyes, "you keep looking at me like that and I'm having a hard time remembering my name, let alone what I was going to tell you." His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. He took in a slow breath and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling, "honest truth, Alyvia," the way he said her name gave her goosebumps, "I've never brought a one-night-stand home, and I'm not about to start now. The fact that you're here right now means something more than that." Bowing his head, he leaned towards her and kissed her softly.

When his lips met hers, Lyv's eyes widened in surprise even though she'd known it was coming. Returning the kiss, her hand slid up his leg as the other went to his arm. Her head was swimming with all he had just said. If she had been standing when he had said it and then kissed her, her knees would have given out for sure. Breaking the kiss, her forehead went against his. "So what umm..." she closed her eyes for a moment, taking him in, "what does it mean?"

"That," he kissed her again, "is up to you. I could tell you," another kiss pressed against her lips before he pulled back to look at her, "what I want, but that's irrelevant. What do you think it should mean?"

She had an idea of what she wanted but thought it was way too early to say it. After all they had technically just met less than twenty-four hours ago. He was great though, really great in fact. "I hope it means that..." she stopped herself, not sure that she could even word it right. Rolling her eyes at herself, she shrugged her shoulders. "Honestly I dunno. I know I like you and I trust you with my life. I think you'd keep me safe and take care of me. I know that's saying a lot because of how fast things are moving but it's what my instinct is telling me." She leaned in and gave him a kiss this time. "I just don't wanna put any pressure on you or send you runnin' for the hills."

She kissed him again and this time her forehead rested in the crook of his shoulder and neck. "I just wanna give you what you want, whatever it is." Her hands went around and rested on his back so that she was hugging him.

"Right now, I want you. Every stunning inch of you." His arms wrapped around her and pulled her down to the mattress as he chuckled softly, kissing her neck, "and don't worry about the running, alright? I've got bad knees."

She thought for a moment and sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. "I know I came here tonight and we had plans to... ya know... but I was wondering..." She stopped herself and turned on her side so that she was facing him and rose up a little. "You think I might be able to just lay with you tonight and you hold me?" It was something she was cautious of asking. She'd actually never asked anyone that before. "We don't have to though if you don't want and we can get this show on the road." She felt safe with him, almost like she could be a little vulnerable, which was a relief for her but also something new.

He was quiet for a few seconds, long enough for her to worry that she'd said the wrong thing and completely ruined the moment before he nodded. "If that's what my girl wants, then that's what she'll have." He pulled away from her, getting off the bed and untucking the perfectly made blankets. He crawled in and scooted upwards until his head rested on the pillows. "C'mere, then, Lyv. I've got it on good authority that my chest makes an excellent pillow."

A wide grin split across her face as she crawled up toward him, feeling completely at ease and relieved. Pulling back the covers on her side, she slid underneath and put her head on his chest. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to agree. I've been told mine ain't too bad either so maybe you'll have to try it out." She snuggled against him and knew there was no way that the grin was leaving her face any time soon.

---

An elbow jabbed into his side, startling him. "Ow, shit… what the fuck?!"

"Wake up," she snapped, backhanding him hard enough to split his lip and bring his attention back to their little brawl. And here he'd been worried about hurting her?

"You want a piece of this, huh?"

She nodded. Hands curling back into fists, she shifted her weight, watching him for a cue. There was a collective intake of breath around them as he moved towards her. Kitty nodded. In a moment like this she knew better than to talk. For both of them, this was better than foreplay, infinitely better than sex. He half-turned, keeping her in his peripheral vision as he rolled his shoulders.

She could tell by the way he carried himself that his young wife was going to get quite the workout in the bedroom later.

<i>I don't want to spar to work my nerves off</i>, he thought, <i>I want to take out my frustrations; prove that I'm still the best in this damn business, especially after losing to that shitstain who calls himself Sexton Hardon. Dangerous Games is a big deal. The biggest. Have to retain that title. Have to go out there and win that free-for-all. No pressure, huh? No. Never.</i>

Even the voice in his head was sarcastic.

"Scared?" She taunted, laughing mockingly.

"Nope. You don't scare me. Harmless as a pussy cat." He said it with ringing conviction.

"Then hit me, you pansy." She charged at him, slipping past his dodge attempt and getting right up into his guard. One of her fists went for his face and he sidestepped, catching her arm with an underarm hook takedown that sends her crashing to the floor. Jackson blew out through his teeth, and then went down as Kitty swept his legs out from under him. A knee slammed into his groin, and then she slapped him across the face, mocking him. "Fuck, actually try," she grinned, and stepped off him.

Anger rose in the back of his mind, breaking loose from the place he kept it under iron control. His hand closed over her wrist, and he pulled so hard he nearly popped her shoulder out of joint. She staggered forward and he rose up from the floor, slamming his fist into her chin. Blood and spittle flew from her mouth, and she fell back. He'd gotten too angry. Pity, it would be over too quickly.

His face was blank of expression as he stomped on her stomach, driving the wind from her lungs. "You give?"

"Fuck you," she spat, wiping the blood from her lips, "don't do me any favors."

He shrugged as if to say it was her funeral as a few more bodies trickled into the room, drawn, no doubt, by idiots blabbing on all social media outlets about two professional wrestlers beating the shit out of each other in a middle of a New York club. Someone was recording it on their iPhone.

The silence was split by the sound of flesh impacting with flesh, and her ferocious battle cry as she sprang up from the floor. She collided with him, driving him back into the metal pillar beside the stairs to the DJ booth. He hit hard enough to shake the ceiling as her knee caught him in the ribs again. His left hand closed around her throat as she completed the move, and he tossed her backwards. He charged, scooping her up and nearly breaking her in half over his knee. She fell, gasping for air on the ground. "Kitty," he rasped her name, trying to catch his breath; "no more. This is suicide."

"Hit me, you bastard!" She shrieked in outrage, knowing full well he needed this as much as she did. "Prove to me that you DESERVE to wear that belt, you fuckin' usurper!"

He saw red and launched himself at her with a snarl, colliding with her as she got to her feet. Her back crashed into one of the dark mirrors that lined the far wall, glass splintering at her back. She bit his neck, drawing blood and he staggered back. "Jesus Christ, you bit me!"

"Never said I played fair," she smirked at him, stepping gingerly away from the cracked glass. "Way to bust the place up, Jax." Her hands curled into fists and she stepped towards him again but he waved her off, shaking his head.

"No more. I'm done." Shaking with exertion, blood still trickling over his chin, he held out his hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her up, into his embrace. Sweaty and bloody, he hugged her tight, whispering words in her ear that weren't audible to the onlookers. "Thanks for that."

She nodded her head, sighing in exhaustion, "no problem." She replied, "you know I'm always there to help."

He nodded, not bothering to speak.

Doesn't matter much now; I wasn't supposed to win that American Dream match. Wasn't supposed to win this time around. Last two times in this godforsaken promotion were washes. Whatever. I can still sit backstage and brood in some dump, tape up my wrists and jettison the baggage when the music hits. That much is automatic as breathing even if the headspace is horribly fucked. It's not a big deal. It really isn't. In the long run, it's better that way.

An arm snaked around his waist and she pressed up against his side, looking up at him with concern. "You ok, sweetie?"

"Yeah." He muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I'll be alright. Long as you're here, I'll survive. Love you, Lyv."

Simple truths were enough these days. This late in the game that was the only thing he STILL had…

---

"Damn, babe… you know the violence gets me goin'," he ran his hand down her back, feeling the cool cotton of the button up shirt she was wearing-- one of his that she's liberated that first week, turning it into loungewear. He didn't mind, really. She looked so damn cute in it, especially when it did nothing to camouflage those incredible legs of hers.

Clicking the last button to send his brain droppings out there into the aether of cyberspace, he closed the lid of the laptop. "I don't wanna go." He mumbled the words so low she didn't quite hear him.

"Mhmm?" her reply was nothing more than a sleepy purr as she relaxed against the press of his palm against her back. Her hair spread over her shoulders, a tousled mess of blonde waves, tickling his fingers as he lifted it, running his fingers lightly over the back of her neck.

The GCW US Title belt was sitting atop his duffel bag, gleaming in the low light, drawing his attention. His handycam was waiting to capture an improvised promo should he choose to put his face on camera, but right now he had no desire to bother with that mundane shit. His eyes shifted to the bloodstained baseball bat, lips curving into a smirk. An idea was starting to form, but he knew better than to wander into Dangerous Games with such a stupid gimmick up his sleeve.

Still, there might be some merit to the idea. "Hey, you wanna come with me to the arena?" He leaned back, pulling her with him, bringing her head onto his chest.

She didn't protest as she fell against his solid bulk. She could hear his heart beating, its slow and steady rhythm so comforting. "If that's what you want, sure. What were you thinking?"

He shrugged, "was thinking of the same stunt we pulled tonight, but I'm not so sure that's going to work." He pressed his lips to her temple, smoothing her hair back in a gesture that was possessive as well as comforting, something he did all the time. She didn't mind, in fact, she loved his touch, craved it, really. "Fuck, I'll think about it some more… something'll come to me. Always does, right?" He sighed, "I love having you on the road with me. I mean, this is perfect. This place... you by my side like a wicked little devil. It's good, Lyv an' you know what?"

She inclined her head, looking up at him, urging him to continue without a word. Sometimes she knew better than to say anything.

"I need you so bad." The understatement of the year, but those words had come from his heart.

She opened her eyes, looking up at him through the tangle of her hair as it flopped over her face. She tossed her head, and then smiled. His eyes were deep blue, gleaming strangely as he looked down at her. "I know," she said softly, running a hand over his bare chest, tracing the contours of muscle, skimming across the scars that marred the smooth skin below his collarbone. He shivered slightly when her light touch skimmed his neck, trailing up to cradle his cheek, before plunging into his thick hair. "I need you, too." Sounded like a confession, but the words conveyed so much more.

She pressed a finger to his lips, feeling their softness, the touch enough to make her smile, as the thought of kissing them rose in her mind. As though picking up on the thought, he turned his head, pinning her with his hungry gaze. He found her mouth with his own, and kissed her deeply, his tongue conquering the sweet depths, plundering and pillaging her with his passion.

She pulled away with a low chuckle, pressing a hand against his chest, holding him at bay. "I think I know what you need," she whispered, entwining her fingers with his before she rose to her feet, dragging him with her.

He nodded, his arms encircling her waist and crushing her against him. His eyes closed as he held her for a second, that inner gaze already fixed on the future, conjuring images of a wrestling ring and screaming fans. His blood sang just thinking about it. It'd been too damn long.