Chapter 1: Rejection

Sometimes I lay in bed at night, hands quivering as I reach down to stroke myself, thinking of him, fantasizing about him, straining to hear him say my name in that soft, sweet voice of his.

Every time he walked into the arena, I catch the smooth, sporty aroma emanating from his body, his scent lingering for a brief flash as he or I leave the locker room for a match.

And sometimes Jackie would catch a lustful gaze from me in his general direction. She'd ask me who I was looking at.

'No one. Just thinking of you, dear, ' I'd smile.

Secretly I'd hope to get one night away from her, just to talk to him, just to see if he'd feel the same way.

'Charlie, ' I'd imagine him saying, 'fuck me. Fuck me hard.'

And when I think of that, I sport a hard-on in an instant. It's not from pure lust. No, there's more to it than that. It's the way he acts, the way he moves, the way he talks... It's more than just heated desire from between these loins of mine.

She probably doesn't know it, but many times I've imagined Jackie were he.

She wonders why I buy the magazines every month. 'You don't need to read those, you know exactly what's going on, ' she says.

I just chuckle, telling her that I want to see what the fans are supposed to think of us. And sometimes I take it into the bathroom at night, locking the door, masturbating over his picture. Sometimes it's hard to keep quiet while I shoot my cum into the toilet, but somehow I always manage not to wake her up.

And then I hide the magazine away, slip back into bed. She doesn't even know what's going on.

'Sleep well?' she'll ask in the morning. Answer with a 'yeah' and a nod and go about scrounging for food. Go to work again and wash, rinse, repeat.

And then a day comes where he and I are alone in the locker room. I take a look around in disbelief, cock already growing hard beneath my trunks, then say his name voicelessly. I take a deep breath and try again, this time managing to get it out. 'Rey.'

He turns around and my world comes to a dizzying standstill. He grins over at me and says my name in that voice that turns my knees to jelly. 'Hey, Charlie, what's up?'

He's wearing nothing but a white towel. No mask, no pants, no boots. Just that white towel. My eyes quickly travel over his frame as I nearly drop the one in my hand, almost losing my words. 'Not much, ' I answer with a shrug. 'How 'bout yourself?'

I glance over to the door, and with a brief lick of the lips, note that it is closed. 'Not a whole lot, just gettin' ready to shower.'

'Cool, ' I answer quietly, looking over at him and sitting down to remove my boots.

Folding up his clothes, he speaks again, creating small talk. 'Ya did a good job out there tonight, Haas.'

'Thanks, ' I respond, pulling the socks off underneath. 'You did pretty good yourself.' I look up and see him from the side, a slight bulge visible beneath the towel. Unconsciously, my movements slow, and words spill out of my mouth in a soft whisper, not inaudible to him. 'God, if I could suck that cock of yours... '

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. 'The fuck did you just say?'

I meet his eyes in surprise. 'I said you did pretty good out there tonight.'

He shakes his head with a laugh. 'Nah, nah, man, after that.'

Shaking my head, I answer, unaware of what I'd said. 'I... didn't say anything after that.'

He walks over and crouches down with a smirk, meeting me at eye level and a laugh. 'You said somethin' 'bout suckin' cock, Haas.'

My mouth fishes open and shut in disbelief. 'You... You're kidding, right?'

He grins with a chuckle as his hands move to his navel, thumbs inserted just inside the towel line. 'Your words, not mine, bro.'

I turn my face away, blushing in shame and embarrassment, muttering, 'Fuck.'

He simply shrugs and stands up. 'Damn, was hopin' maybe ya meant it.'

I slowly turn to stare at him in utter shock as he turns, walking to the showers and pulling off his towel, setting it aside, his naked ass jiggling slightly with every step.

'Wait!' I called out to him. He turned, a hand loosely wrapped around and erect shaft. I stood and walked over to him, wordlessly falling to my knees in front of him, looking up into his eyes, my own pleading for permission.

He looked down, seeing the want in my eyes, studying my face for a moment, a soft smirk playing across his lips, fingers playing over his length.

My breathing weighs down upon me as I sigh out the single word, 'Please... '

He begins to grip his cock firmly, pulling on it, fondling himself as he nods mockingly down at me.

I hear the word escape my lips a second time. 'Please, Rey... '

He turns and walks into the showers, his answer simple. 'No.'

My wanton need never to be fulfilled, I bow my head, hands splayed on the floor between my thighs, dejected, rejected.

I never knew it could hurt so bad, and I wondered what would be said in the days to come.

All I know is that Jackie wonders if something happened to me that night.

Chapter 2: Denial

It had been two months since he'd approached me. Nothing was said of the event, but even so, it was still weird, it being so long since I'd spoken to him at any length about... anything, really. I'd wanted to talk to him about it, but every time I'd gathered the courage to do so, something came up, or someone stopped in. Usually, it would be that bitch Jackie. She made me sick, with all that sweet talk she did, sliding her hands over his face and body, her lips touching his, whispering in his ear with a smile... things I'd longed to do.

It had been two months since he'd approached me. That night I went to my hotel room, realizing what a bastard I'd been. And so far, it had taken two months to try to talk to him, each effort worthless and in vain.

It had been two months since he'd approached me. In those two months, there had been several nights where I'd woken up from a dream covered in sweat, the bed cool with perspiration and lightly crusting with salt. Many of those nights I would dream of the two of us fucking. It wouldn't matter who was on top or on bottom, I just knew it was hot. I knew I wanted it. And I wanted it bad.

It had been two months since he'd approached me. His vision began to consume me, that look of sadness that night. The guilt plagued me, his face torn and contorted in anguish. Sometimes I wondered how I, as a man, could have done that, denied that, refused that.

It had been two months since he'd approached me. Maybe I was starting to understand where he was coming from. Maybe his lack of response to all the hints I'd tried to drop had gone unnoticed. Maybe I'd started to feel the way he'd had... rejected. Every time I'd pass by him, a few drops of sweat beaded on my forehead, and I'd swallow hard, ready to talk to him. But every time I tried, I'd lose my gut or something would get in the way. I'd vowed that that night I would talk to him, one way or another.

That night, I came into the locker room after the main event and waited for him. He was in the shower, I was told. I sat on a bench, leaning back and stretching my arms to either side, clasping the edge of the bench. My glance darted around the room for a few moments when I heard the water discontinue. He stepped out, wearing just a white towel. His fingers combed through his hair and a few glistening drops of water slid down his slightly freckled chest. I took a deep breath, silently, and spoke. 'Charlie. What's up, man?'

He gave a cordial smile and a nod. 'Not much, how about yourself?'

I shook my head as he turned to a locker to pull out some clothes, my eyes looking over the round bulge of his ass. I licked my lips briefly as I did so. 'Not a whole lot. Was just wonderin' if I could talk to ya a minute.'

He stood and shrugged. 'Sure thing.'

God, he had a beautiful back, the way it curved, the placement of his shoulders. I didn't mean to, but I stared. I felt a hot burning as my stomach wrenched inside me. He turned a little bit reaching down to pull up a pair of boxers. The towel opened, revealing what lay underneath. Not having said anything, he raised an eyebrow as he pulled up the boxers, snapping the elastic against his waist. 'Well?'

I blushed then, his words pulling me out of the void that was he. I moved my gaze to meet his with a smile. 'Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you about... well, what happened a couple months ago.'

'Oh, ' he said softly, turning away again and dropping the towel to the bench next to him. 'I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean--'

'No, ' I interrupted. He cringed a little at the word, and my voice lowered as I continued. 'That's what I wanted to talk about.'

He turned back, clenching a red shirt in his hand. 'I'm... I'm confused.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I spoke. 'About that night. I'm sorry 'bout that. I didn't... I shouldn't've done that to ya. I... '

He waited a moment before speaking, pulling his arms through the sleeves of the shirt. 'You... ?' he asked. He began to buttong up the buttons on his shirt, bottom to top.

I watched his fingers, speaking slowly, noting the curves in his abdomen, burning the image of the definition in my mind and filing it away. My voice came out hoarsely. 'I... wanted to know if you... would ever want to, y'know, do something?'

He grinned and chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a little, the top three buttons left undone on his shirt, showing the line down his chest. 'Do something?' He shook his head and chuckled. 'Two months, and that's all you could come up with?' He smirked.

I looked into his eyes, softly yet a little bitterly. 'And what do you want me to say?'

He shrugged. 'Whatever's on your mind.' He sat down to pull on a pair of black slacks and his fingers traveled over the curves of his calves as he pulled them up. 'If you're talkin' about fucking, just say something.'

He stood again, and pulled his pants up, the fly resting for a moment around his crotch, his cock neither flaccid nor erect, but creating a largeish bulge there. My glance flickered to meet his again, jaw dropping a few times before I found the words. 'Er... uh... somethin' like that, yeah.' He simply shook his head and zipped his pants, having tucked in the shirt. 'What?'

He chuckled, a hand moving to his crotch, readjusting himself, the shape of his member evident behind the slacks, then turned to zip his bag. 'Maybe you can see how I felt now. No.' I chewed on my lower lip angrily as I watched him stop at the door, hand on the knob. His voice carried over in an almost inaudible whisper as he looked down over his shoulder, 'Don't mean never, though.'

I watched him leave, curiously, wondering what he'd meant by that. I wasn't angry at Charlie, I was at myself. For preventing everything in the first place. And now that whore Jackie was going to get it all to herself. I swore that night that she'd be a dead woman.

Chapter 3: Loss

Six months ago, Charlie came home distressed. I was never sure what happened that night, but I know it disturbed me.

Four months ago, Charlie came home and practically fucked the shit out of me.

Two months ago, Charlie didn't come home at all. That didn't worry me so much that night, but it became more and more frequent.

That last day, Charlie went out. I had just gotten out of the shower and put some clothes on when there was a knock on the door. I quickly wrapped my hair in a towel and went to the door and answered it. There stood Rey. I tried my best to smile and say 'Hello, ' but I was unnerved by the large knife he held in his hands, picking under his nails.

'Hey, ' he said with a broad grin, 'Charlie 'round?'

I shook my head, glancing back and forth from his eyes to the steel in his hands. 'No, ' I said, putting on a facade of cheerfulness. 'Come on in, can I get you anything?' I asked, stepping aside, almost hiding behind the door to allow him room to enter.

He shook his head and stepped inside, twirling the tip of the blade on his fingertip. Something about his smile seemed wrong, dangerous, but I closed the door anyway. 'Charlie'll be back in about half an hour.'

His lips turned wicked and I took a hard swallow. He stepped closer, pushing the point against my belly. 'Good, ' he said slowly, 'because that gives me time to do what I need to you.' His laugh was primal, dark, and it left me unable to speak. 'Bedroom, ' he commanded. 'And if you so much as make a peep, this knife... ' He lifted it, sliding it up the center of my torso and pressed it to my neck, drawing a drop of blood, and then he winked with a chuckle. 'I think you get the idea.'

I lifted my head in a slight nod and backed up toward the bedroom. He followed, keeping the pressure of the blade constant against my neck. 'On the bed, ' he growled as we made our way into the bedroom. With another hard gulp, I followed his order, sitting on the edge of the bed. 'Lay back.' I slid onto the bed, resting my head on a pillow. He crawled up on the bed with me and removed his knife from my throat, leaning over and planting a soft kiss against my collarbone.

Softly, he spoke. 'You know, Jackie, your fiancé is a really good fuck.' A mysterious and impish laugh escaped his lips. My eyes grew wide with terror as he turned, pressing his lips against the other side of my collarbone. He slipped the knife into his back pocket and leaned over me, pulling two pillows from my left side. He shook the pillowcases off wordlessly, but with an evil-looking smirk. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought he'd earned his nickname, 'Rey Mysterio.'

'Put your hands up, ' he whispered with disturbing tenderness. I nodded and did as he asked, reaching my hands up. He wrapped the pillowcase around my wrists in a figure eight, then tied the pillowcase to the headboard. 'Lift your head.' I swallowed and took a deep breath, arching my neck forward. He placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of my jaw and squeezed, forcing it apart with a smile. I left my mouth open, figuring he'd want it that way.