Temperance [CW]

[Cyrus Daniels]

Content Warning: Sexual Content, Nudity, BDSM themes.

If Cyrus Daniels had known that their early morning training session would have ended with a thoroughly worked up Vivienne propositioning him with a suggestive bump and grind, he likely would have dealt with the Intercontinental Hotel’s lacklustre fitness centre rather than taking her to a higher quality gym nearby. The short walk back to the hotel which Vivienne adored for its spectacular harbour views and under-utilised rooftop garden was filled with soft touches and even softer kisses.

True to the loving nickname he had christened her with after their first time together had left her practically purring in his post-sex embrace as she had laid her head on his chest and traced lazy circles into his chest hair, his beloved Kitten was in a most playful mood. She used the excuse of a full elevator to press herself against him, her hand slipping down to tease his crotch. Her breath hitched as her eyes sparkled, locked in their loving gaze. A low groan escaped him as he stiffened to even the mere suggestion of her touch.

He smirked as his own hands slid down and cupped her right buttock and gave it a firm but playful squeeze that made her half jump and half shiver as she let out a squeal. They were now evenly matched in their little game which was being played out in a little metal box that became less elevator and more cage with each floor it ascended.

The other people in the elevator did their best to look away, as the couple seemed to be mere moments away from tearing each other out of their clothes. As intense as their electricity was, few people wanted to be an audience to the primal instincts of tigers in heat. Cyrus marked Vivienne as his, biting her neck hard enough in front of a smart Japanese businessman, who cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes, muttering something likely disparaging about foreign tourists in his native tongue.

His bite, and the ecstasy of being claimed in public ignited within Vivienne a fresh spark of unbridled passion that now danced hand in hand with her residual rage. She threw her head back and let out a breathy moan just as the elevator bounced to a stop. The doors dinged open and the Japanese businessman and his two associates were relieved to be getting off before the couple did, in every sense.

A few more floors were ascended whilst Cyrus kissed her cheek, nibbled her ear and caressed her inner thigh. This was their floor and that only inspired Vivienne to jump into his embrace and wrap herself around him. He carried her down the hall, locked in a passionate kiss to their room. Their passion was only momentarily disrupted by their need to swipe into their large suite.

Once inside, they were carried away by a flurry of eager, breathless kisses. They parted only as much as was absolutely necessary to shed the restrictions of their clothes around their sheer sexual magnetism in the moment. Once they were both liberated of their civility entirely, Cyrus slapped and groped her behind as Vivienne once more threw herself into his uncompromising embrace, arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

He carried her into the luxury of the en-suite bathroom and into the shower cubicle. He slammed her back hard against the cubicle wall, and then under a warm shower, they bathed together, washing and caressing each other intimately as they stopped infrequently to taste each other’s tongues. Driven by mutually primitive urges, Vivienne reminded him to not hold back and he obliged, pounding her hard and fast, restraining her right arm above her head as she was pinned against the cold wall tiles. Her breathy moans of “Harder, Daddy!” encouraged him to hit her deeper and faster, until she lost herself entirely to pleasure. Her deep moans first became ecstatic squeals and then unhinged screams.

Soon after, she babbled his name like a prayer, and whispered she was close to being undone. He pressed on, as new bruises bloomed across her back. She took the pain and continued to chase her pleasure. Eventually, it was too much, she shook and she shivered but Cyrus withheld her blessed undoing from her. Without his permission, her denied climax continued to twist and turn violently inside her, thrashing against her most intimate walls, and she pleaded with him for mercy. Their agreed safeword ‘Stallion’ flirted with her lips and set fire to her heart but she held on. She wanted to prove she was his equal and true to her word. She wouldn’t give in until he allowed it.

He felt her shake and convulse with every thrust, her breathing rapid and shallow and her eyes squeezed shut as he wrapped his mouth around one of her breasts without breaking their rhythm. “Now, Kitten,” he commanded with a raspy whisper as his tongue ruthlessly exploited more of her most intimate sensitivities, until everything inside her finally exploded. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and her vision was beset with stars. She surrendered entirely to not only her own absolute bliss in the moment but also his complete control of her at even the most intimate level.

He anchored her firmly in place as she was rocked to her very core by the most intense climax she’d ever experienced in her life. Nobody had ever touched her as deeply before and nobody would again. Cyrus was unique and every day she seemed to fall deeper and deeper in love with him. At the edge of her climax, Cyrus found his own release deep inside her.

“Oh, oh, thank you, Daddy,” she whispered hoarsely, addicted to the sensation of having him inside her. As her eyes refocused on the beautiful dusky brown of his, thoughts of having more children with him, specifically a baby girl next, suddenly clashed with her desire for retribution against Dean Harper. For the moment she blinked those personal future hopes away.

“Good girl,” he praised as he looked up and fed her his tongue again in another primal and animalistic kiss. She had never tasted anything sweeter, especially as every time Cyrus kissed her, he did so as if it was her first and so kept the butterflies chained to the walls of her stomach. No matter how wildly they flapped their wings, they would never leave her, just as Cyrus would never leave her, the love of his damned life.

***

A few hours of complete sexual surrender later, Cyrus uncuffed Vivienne’s hands from around her back and lifted the blindfold from around her eyes. She blinked rapidly as her vision readjusted to the light and she saw the patchwork of uneven bruises and intense love bites he’d marked her with. The bites and bruises clustered as islands across her skin, as if she was a living, breathing map of his most carnal desires. Appropriate then that she was his whole damned world, Cyrus thought, as the opening credits of the Disney classic animated Cinderella started to roll.

Vivienne rubbed feeling back into her wrists before she snuggled against him and into the sheets, utterly content as he gently rubbed her back in smooth circular motion beginning the gentle comedown of their aftercare routine. Whilst some may have considered one of her favourite comfort movies since childhood to be stupid, Cyrus understood the unique comfort of the intimately familiar and delightfully predictable that was valued by all trauma survivors and so never judged her for any of it.

As the end credits rolled, he kissed her neck before slipping out of bed and quickly into a pair of jeans and a black tank top. He made certain to put the wristband she had gifted him back on before he left her to go and film his promo. He leant over and kissed her quickly, promised to meet her for dinner in the evening after he was done.

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Cyrus Daniels sat at a small circular wooden table, an unopened bottle of Haku, Japanese Craft Vodka and shot glass to his right. Likely just for the aesthetics given he still had a job to do.

The Russian Lion, Tytus Rost - Privet, Tovarish!

There are few blokes in this biz I respect, and even fewer I consider ta be anythin’ approachin’ a true blue mate of mine, but you Rost are about as close as anybody is ever gonna come around here. We’ve only been workin’ together a few months, but in that time you’ve shown me the most respect I’ve ever gotten in this company, an’ for that you’re a top bloke in my book, for now at least.

I’ve been around the block a few times in my life though mate, an’ I know how quickly things can turn around here, especially if the carrot is big enough. I have no doubt that ya won’t think twice about stickin’ the knife in my back as soon as I do what needs ta be done, an’ beat the piss outta ya, eliminatin’ ya from the single biggest tourney either of us have ever been in.

Brick shithouse blokes like us don’t get opportunities like this every day.

Smaller, safer, more family friendly spot monkeys are favoured much more than they used ta be even a decade ago. An’ so we’re reduced ta bein’ the token big man in most situations. Now, on the surface that kinda thing don’t really phase me.

If the money’s good, I’m good.

The thing about bein’ a token though is only one is ever needed, an’ this tourney is no exception. They only need one big bastard ta slap the shit outta the most popular ragdolls an’ that mate is why you are so tragically surplus ta requirements an’ why I have ta do what I do best once again - take people outta the game, usually just ‘cause I can.

But in your case Rost, I’m doin’ it for your own good, mate.

We both know ya ain’t cut out ta be any kinda real challenge ta Warren Harper. He is on a whole other level these days, thanks ta me. He already kept ya from embarrassin’ yourself in the Extinction Event, I know ‘cause I trained him to myself.

He still owes me big time for that, an’ the World Championship would be one hell of a way ta settle our debt. The way I see it Rost, only one big nasty bastard is built ta handle the challenge, an’ it’s the bloke who already took one title from him eight years ago.

Not the one with the bum shoulder and the bum knee.

Harper needs a challenger at the top of his game, an’ the first few weeks of tag team matches in this very tourney have already shown that ain’t you, mate. I’m sure somebody, somewhere still has a use for you, but it’s not anyone around here.

So ‘cause I like ya, an’ ‘cause I respect ya Rost, I’ll give ya one chance ta do the real smart thing an’ go home with all your shit still intact. I don’t care if it’s to your farm in Texas or to your nippers in Norlisk, I just know ya need ta pack up your shit before I do it for you, mate.

An’ you know better than anyone that I’ll bloody do it too, not necessarily ‘cause I wanna but ‘cause I need to. Not just for me, but for my Kitten. I need ta prove a point ta both Harpers so much more than you do mate.

It’s my bloody wife they’ve upset an’ disrespected with all their shit.

Warren and Dean wanna rock my world?

Fair enough boys, I’ll fuckin’ tear yours apart then.

It’s real simple, Warren.

It’s your world for my world, Harper.

Her tears demand your blood.

An’ sooner or later you will pay up, Bitch!