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The water pressure was a bit high, stinging his skin. Dolph didn’t mind. He had already washed and really was just indulging at this point; long, hot showers were a guilty pleasure of his that was well-known among the locker room. Some teased him for it, but he didn’t really care. He certainly wasn’t going to escape enjoying the nice shower room this arena had. There were individual stalls with plenty of room, although the ‘walls’ were really only half panels akin to what was in public bathrooms and there wasn’t door, just a curtain. Still, the low shelf each stall had where one could place their shower gear and the room to maneuver made up for those issues. He wasn’t the biggest guy on the roster by far, but even he felt cramped by the tiny cells that locker rooms sometimes had or even hotels.
He sighed, ducking his head under the spray and breathing in the steam. His adrenaline rush from winning earlier hadn’t wore off yet and was making its presence known through his half-hard cock. One benefit to normally taking long showers was that no one noticed when he indulged in something else in the shower as well. It was bit risky jerking off in a semi-public shower, but it wasn’t like he was the only one that did it and if he was a little bit honest with himself the chance of discovery made it seem even more pleasurable. He wasn’t really into exhibitionism, but the thought of it… well, that was something else entirely.
He lightly stroked himself, letting his mind drift through different faces and fantasies. He purposefully ignored the images of leggy blondes, shoving them aside. No blondes this time. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on someone else. A flash of red hair caught his imagination. For a split second he thought of Becky, but her lovely face was quickly replaced by snarling man with a mohawk. He groaned, and not entirely in pleasure.
Another well-known fact about Dolph was his love of the ladies, in all shapes and sizes, but what wasn’t as known was his love of men, too. Only his close friends knew that sometimes it wasn’t a kind of warm paradise he hungered for between someone’s legs, but rather a hard, hot cock. That really was an indulgence and one he usually curbed while on the road, minus the friendly handjob to work off extra adrenaline. It had been, no pun intended, much harder to curb the last several months because a certain man had turned his imagination and dreams afire and there was no smothering those flames out.
Sheamus, that six-foot-four pale jackass that returned from injury with violent hair and a grudge, had made a certain part of Dolph’s anatomy sit up and take notice. He always had a physical appreciation of Sheamus before he could admit, a nice bit of eye candy and even ear candy with that accent of his, but it wasn’t something profound. He had missed the man while he was away injured, but it wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of eye candy to take his place. He hadn’t thought much about the man at all until he had returned.
Dolph had laughed at the new look as much as anyone, but it soon became apparent that look came with a new mean streak. It wasn’t long before he watched one of Sheamus’s matches where the redhead was practically growling in the ring, soaked in sweat and his carefully spiked mohawk now a wreck, sticking out in a dozen different directions. There was a heat in his eyes that made Dolph lick his lips and his dick twitch. He was a goner.
He hadn’t stopped stroking as he reminisced. He should stop this train of thought, but his dick was aching against his belly and it had been so long since he had any kind of real, non-solo fun with it. Sheamus had made him kiss his ass and he should hate him for that, should despise the fact that he was a bully and a jackass. He couldn’t bring himself to that, though. He didn’t quite like him, either, but he definitely didn’t hate him. He couldn’t hate someone that he really wanted to fuck or be fucked by.
His dick jumped at that second thought, and he gave in and stroked harder now, imagine strong, pale hands on his hips, holding him in place while he was thrusted into, an accented voice whispering filthy things into his ear. He bit his lip to keep from keening as a wave of want crashed through him.
A moment later he was glad he did, because he heard the shower room door open, echoing loudly across the room. His hand stopped and he felt like screaming in frustration. He had been alone in the shower room, damn it, the perfect time for this, and now he had unwanted company. A few stalls down from his, it sounded like.
He gritted his teeth and ignored the ache in his cock. He’d wait until the other guy got his shower going and then he’d finish up as quickly and quietly as he could and get the hell out of here.
Focused as he was on listening for signs that he wouldn’t be heard, he didn’t miss the rumble of low cursing. Before he could parse out what was being said, he felt something hit his foot and he jumped a bit. He looked down to see a bar of soap. He stared at it for a moment, his horny mind working a little sluggishly, before the voice spoke again and he registered just who it was.
“Damnú! Hey, you! Give that a toss back, will ya?”
Dolph froze. There was no way-- but no, he wasn’t hearing things, that was Sheamus himself calling. Just his damn luck. He grabbed the bar of soap, intending to just throw it back without a word. Jerk off be damned, he was getting out of this shower immediately.
He wasn’t sure what made him look at the name imprint on the soap, but he did, and before he could stop himself he spoke up.
“Irish Spring? Really?” He snapped his mouth shut, hoping the Celt hadn’t heard him over the sound of the shower, but luck was not with him.
“Ziggler.” His name was practically spat out, followed by what sounded like ‘fuckin’ figures.’ “Give it back.”
It was like he wasn’t even in control of his body as he used the low shelf as a step so he could look over the top of the partition. He could only see the top of Sheamus’s head from this angle, mostly the mohawk that was as wild as it ever was after a match. Dolph’s neglected cock twitched hard, but he just swallowed roughly and ignored it.
“Seriously, though? Irish Spring? I didn’t think you were that stereotypical.”
Sheamus apparently realized that he was easier to hear, because he caught a glimpse of blue eyes over the man’s own partition before they disappeared. Obviously using his own shelf as a step up as well, an annoyed face quickly appeared. His beard was still braided and his expression made him look so much like Grumpy Cat that Dolph should have been doubled over laughing at the image presented, but instead a heavy rush of lust had him licking his lips and staring.
“Give it back, Ziggler, before I Brogue Kick you into the wall and take it,” Sheamus snarled, and oh, fuck, that went right to Dolph’s dick, which was now straining and leaking all over his stomach. Bad idea, he thought, very bad idea.
“Okay, okay,” he said, and chucked the soap at the man, not even aiming for his head, despite a small childish part of him really wanting to do that.
Sheamus caught the soap easily, glaring at him, then at the soap, and then back at him. He was just about to turn to step back down when the Irishman spoke again.
“Barrett’s idea of a joke,” he said.
“Wait, really?” Dolph couldn’t resist replying. “What is he, five? Does he crack leprechaun and Lucky Charms jokes, too?” The murderous look on Sheamus’s face pretty much answered that, and Dolph was damn glad he wasn’t Barrett right about now. “You really need to get better friends.”
“He’s not a friend.”
“Good, I’m glad you have better taste than that.”
“He’s just an ally.”
“And you put up with those jokes from him? Doesn’t seem like you.”
“Piss off, Ziggler.”
“At least tell me you’re going to get him back,” Dolph said, and for fuck’s sake, he was bantering with Sheamus in locker room shower while he was hard as rock. What the hell was the matter with him?
“Oh, I will, I guarantee that,” Sheamus told him, his face promising all sorts of trouble for the Englishman.
“Well, ah, good,” he stuttered out. Goddamn the man, that look had no right being sexy. The redhead looked at him oddly, then turned, presumably to step down, but Dolph still felt possessed and stopped him. “Wait,” he called out. Sheamus looked back, his eyebrow raised. What now, Dolph yelled at himself, and then the words were out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. “Want to use my body wash instead? It’s gotta be better than that.”
“It’s probably some Axe shite, so no.” Sheamus’s expression was that he was a bit insane for the offer, and Dolph definitely felt like it, but he couldn’t stop.
“It’s not Axe. I have better taste than that.”
“Doubtful.”
“It’s Tom Ford.”
“Don’t know the bloke.”
Dolph sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere, and it would just be best to let Sheamus start his shower and get out of here as soon as possible, back to his hotel room where he could jerk off in peace and then forget any of this happened. He mentally got a hold of himself, but not before one last parting offer.
“Well, if you change your mind…” he said, and that practically threw himself down off the shelf and back under the spray to mentally curse at himself.
He had just been a colossal idiot. He bit his lip and clenched his fists, willing his erection to go away already so he could leave. He’d almost risk being seen with a tented towel, but he pretty much had had his fill of embarrassment for the day. Unfortunately, his mind had locked in on the fact that Sheamus was naked about twenty feet away and his erection was not cooperating. He felt like he wanted to scream in frustration or just jerk off anyhow, to hell with being heard. Goddamn that man!
He heard the curtain behind him being whipped open, and he started to turn around in alarm before stopping and spinning back near fast enough to give himself whiplash. Sheamus was behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the man wasn’t wearing a towel, either.
“What are you doing?” he strangled out.
“Change me mind.”
“What?” As if he had been embarrassed enough, he was pretty sure his voice just jumped an octave.
“You offered your soap, remember?”
The Irish burr was lower and a lot closer now, and his fantasy from earlier slammed back into him. He swallowed hard.
“Right,” he said, staring at the shower head. “Well, it’s right there on the shelf, so help yourself.”
“What’s the matter, Ziggler? Can’t face me?”
The amused tone told him that he had been found out. He grit his teeth, embarrassment giving away to anger. Damn Sheamus, fucking with his head for months now. He was fed up and so what, he had a hard on, big deal, it was his shower stall that Sheamus had wandered into, what did he expect? He steeled himself and turned around, forcing himself to look the man in the eyes.
Not that Sheamus kept his eyes up, no, his gaze traveled all over Dolph’s body, lingering on his swollen cock a moment before returned back up to his face.
“Like what you see?” growled Dolph.
“Yes,” Sheamus said, softly enough that he thought he had hallucinated the reply for a moment. He stared and realized the blue eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide. He looked at Sheamus’s mouth and saw a tongue flick out to wet his lips. Unable and unwilling to stop, and he realized that Sheamus was hard as well, pale cock bobbing against flexing abs, the tip a deep pink. He couldn’t stop the harsh intake of breath as a pearl of fluid leaked out of the slit.
“Fuck it,” he gasped out and launched himself at Sheamus, grabbing the man’s beard with both hands and yanking him down into a kiss.
He moaned as their cocks touched, a fissure of pleasure rocketing through his body. Sheamus’s hands grabbed his hips and shoved him back against the wall at the same time as Dolph felt a tongue in his mouth. He threw himself into the kiss and thrust his hips against that beautiful, pale body. He was tingling everywhere, nerves alight. The hands moved from his hips down to his ass, and he felt himself being lifted up. He instinctively wrapped his legs around Sheamus’s waist, breaking their kiss to take a deep breath of air. He hadn’t stopped thrusting, didn’t think he could even if for some unfathomable reason he wanted to, because he hadn’t felt this good in so long. Sheamus dropped his head to Dolph’s neck and nipped him, hands tightening on his ass in a way that was almost painful and certainly would leave bruises. His left hand fisted into that blasted mohawk while his right dropped down, grabbing both of their cocks to begin stroking.
Sheamus stuttered something out, something he couldn’t understand, but it was followed by a nip to his earlobe and hips thrusting up into his hand so he didn’t think it was anything bad. His grip tightened and held still, Sheamus thrusting into his fist and against his own cock and Dolph wanted to cry in ecstasy. It felt so good, rough without any slick except their own sweat and the steam from the shower that was still running by his head, but so damn good.
“C’mon, Ziggler,” Sheamus rasped out into ear, so close that Dolph could feel his breath. He buried his face against the redhead’s shoulder, muffling the keen that was building up in his throat.
“Faster,” he ordered, and for what was probably a first in their entire tension-filled relationship, Sheamus did what he was told. His hips snapped up in heavy, fast thrusts that left Dolph feeling like was burning up and breathless. He stroked them again, once, twice, and then he was gone, crashing over into orgasm and nearly screaming a name as thighs tightened around Celt’s waist.
“Sheamus!”
“F-fuck--”
The feeling of something splashing on his abdomen barely registered at all. His heart was doing its best to slam out of his chest, his breathing so labored that he felt as if he had just run ten marathons. The grip on his ass weakened, and slowly his thighs loosened enough for his legs to let go. He stood, the wall holding him up more than his own power. Sheamus leaned against him, head resting against the Dolph’s neck and breathing just as heavy.
“Holy shit,” Dolph mostly breathed out. Sheamus grunted in response.
They stood there for several moments before Sheamus leaned back. Dolph took the opportunity to kiss him again, less forceful this time, but no less full of desire. He hummed a pleased sound as Sheamus kissed him back, tongues tiredly dueling for control. He wasn’t sure how long they kept at it, breaking only for quick breaths, but eventually they slowed and stood apart.
Sheamus looked wrecked, his mohawk now plastered down from the shower, lips swollen and red, and eyes a bit wild. He looked a little confused, probably wondering how in the hell they had ended up here when they didn’t even like each other, and Dolph was admittedly wondering the same thing. And as the silence stretched between them, he had a small epiphany-- he didn’t care how it happened, he just wanted it to happen again.
“So,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ve got two choices. Could finish cleaning up, leave, and never speak of this again, or…”
“Or what, Ziggler?”
“Or,” he said, stepping forward. “We could finish cleaning up, leave, and meet up at my hotel room...” He leaned up to put his mouth right next to Sheamus’s ear. “And we can spend the rest of the night with you fucking me through the mattress.”
Sheamus inhaled sharply, before reaching up to grab Dolph’s head and jerking him back into a kiss that held a lot of promise. He was pulled back abruptly, his scalp aching, and he shivered as his dick twitched in anticipation.
“Get dressed,” Sheamus ordered.
Fuck yes.