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That night they celebrate. Orton's eyes are splinters of ice, his knife-slash smile unimpressed, and Seth, tipsy halfway through his second glass of wine, can't tell what the pecking order is in this new faction and if he still has any leverage now that the deed is done. There's a hairline tremble in his hands that he can't shake. He blames it on the adrenaline crash.
Hunter is smug, pleased with himself and with his victory. The way he looks at Seth, like a hard won title belt, long coveted and long overdue, makes Seth feel desired in a way he hasn’t in a long, long time. Stephanie’s running the conversation with effortless grace, but there's a charged undercurrent between all four them, a mounting tension that has to break somehow. Seth's good at going after what he wants but he's out of his depth here, unsure of what's being offered.
Orton excuses himself early. Seth's relieved and disappointed to see him go. He's not sure what he'd hoped for, except there had been something like avarice in Randy's eyes and Seth can't think of anything he wants more than to be wanted.
When Hunter steps outside to take a call, Stephanie refills his glass and says: "Let's play a game."
Seth likes Stephanie, but he’s not sure he trusts her. He suspects it’s only natural that it’ll take a while to get used to thinking of them as anything but the enemy. Twenty-four hours ago, he was in a seedy little bar on the other side of town celebrating a second win against Evolution, and now…
Around them the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses and cutlery against china continue, and when he glances at the table to their left he catches a glimpse of himself mirrored in the dark window behind it; black on black suit, hair slicked down and neatly pulled back, cufflinks glittering. He barely recognizes himself. Dean would give him so much shit for this.
"All right,” he says.
It makes her laugh. "Don't look so scared. Hunter can be a bit heavy-handed, so let me make something clear for you. We're thrilled to have you. All of us. But just how we have you is up to you."
Seth's stomach flips at the words. He wets his lips, tries to ignore how dry his throat is. "You mean...?"
There's nothing subtle about the way Stephanie looks him over. "We have an arrangement, my husband and I. Sometimes we fuck other people and tell each other about it. And sometimes, when we find someone we both want and our schedules permits... " He must have looked startled, because Stephanie laughs. ”Well, we are married, Seth. I don’t believe it’d be a first for you.”
He can't tell if she means the first time with a married couple or the first time with two people at once, and only one of those are true but that’s hardly the point. He glances at his own reflection; suave, successful, up-and-coming, perfectly at home in a place like this. Fake it till you make it. ”No, of course not."
Hunter returns, slipping his phone into his pocket. ”Sorry about that. We’re negotiating to bring in new talent and the lawyers are making it more of a pain in the ass than usual.” He leans down to kiss Stephanie's cheek, a hand sliding along her arm. ”What did I miss?”
Seth’s pretty certain Hunter knows exactly what he missed. He thinks he’s being manipulated, just a little, and it probably shouldn’t feel as good as it does. ”Stephanie said something about a game.”
”I did." Her smile grows sharp. "We’d like to see how obedient you can be.”
It sends an illicit thrill through him. If he were younger, more reckless, less famous, he’d say yes now and ask questions later. But they’re in a public place and he knows what a scandal will do to your career and your peace of mind. Stephanie and Hunter would come out unscathed, probably, but him? His gaze flicks to the other diners, mostly corporates, one or two couples, all of them quietly minding their own business.
”We’d be discreet,” Hunter says, as if to reassure him. ”Nothing indecent in public. It’s all about control.”
No one’s ever asked this of him before. He's always been the one to hold all the cards, to be three steps ahead of the opposition. But the bridges he lit only hours ago are still burning behind him, probably together with all the things he couldn’t smuggle out of the hotel room before the show. If there was ever a night for trying new things, this would be it.
”Yeah.” His voice sounds weird to his own ears, like it’s coming from somewhere far away. ”We could do that."
”Good. Hands in your lap, then. And keep your back straight.”
He obeys, shame twisting his gut and making his face burn, but there’s something else there too, something sweet and enticing, and he wants more of it. He hadn’t been aware that he was slouching until he feels his whole posture change. Stephanie says something, but he can’t hear it over the whooshing of blood in his ears.
”…going to need a new look. I’d say put him in another color, but he wears black well, doesn’t he?”
Seth's throat goes dry, his heartbeat picking up. Having both Hunter and Stephanie's undivided attention seems too much, all of a sudden. But even as their gazes burn through his skin he has the strange feeling that they're not really seeing him, but the man they could turn him into. Someone clever and vicious and triumphant and obedient and theirs.
”I’m thinking shirtless. Black pants. Seth, look up. To the left.” Stephanie reaches out and touches the patch of blonde hair. ”We could have this dyed. Make him look more professional, less like a rebellious brat."
He's lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with the wine, and when the dessert arrives and he's glad to get a moment out of the spotlight to remember how to breathe. He reaches for the fork.
”Seth." Hunter's voice dips low with rebuke.
His stomach drops. Hands in your lap, he remembers, sudden and vivid, but it's too late to fix. "I'm sorry, sir. I forgot. I'll do better."
Hunter gives him a long assessing look and somehow Seth manages not to squirm. Finally he nods, letting Seth of the hook.
It makes no sense at all to be disappointed. Disappointed, and more than a little turned on. He thinks he might be fucked up, and he wonders if that’s always been the case, or if what he did tonight in the ring changed something in him.
The rest of the dessert passes in a haze, their discussion interspersed with absent-minded commands. Have a bite, Seth. Spread your legs a little. Look at me. Move your glass to the left.
He’s vaguely aware that he’s not holding up his part of the conversation, but they seem content to talk above and around him. Nothing they’ve asked of him is difficult, but it adds up, and it takes all of his focus to remember. Back straight, hands in your lap, feet apart, sit still, eyes down, fork like so, glass right there...
He has no intention of fucking up again. If they want obedience, he's going to up the ante and make it flawless, unhesitant, immediate.
Out of the corner of his eye he steals little glimpses of their razor-smiles gentled for each other. They’ve got a silent language of gesture and touch, Stephanie flicking a speck of dust off of Hunter’s cuff, Hunter wiping a crumb from her lip with his thumb, a kiss to the knuckles, intertwined hands, and he knows they’re allowing him to see it, to get an inkling of who they are away from the board rooms and the cameras.
It's never been like this before. With Roman and Dean there was always tension, a fight waiting to break. The Shield was a unit only because Seth was determined to keep them that way, holding them together by the skin of his teeth.
Hunter and Stephanie are rock solid. They don't need him. It feels like being able to breathe for the first time in months.
”Have a sip, Seth.” Hunter’s voice is warm with approval.
He murmurs a thank you, and the simple expression of gratitude sends a jolt to his groin. When he puts down the glass and returns his hand to his lap it feels like every movement is lauded with meaning. The air is so thick he can barely breathe.
Hunter's phone chimes. He looks down and grimaces. "I have to take this. I'm sorry."
"Go ahead, honey. We'll just entertain ourselves for a while." Stephanie gives him a kiss and stands. ”Seth? With me.”
Seth rises quetly and follows her through the dining area.
”I love this place,” Stephanie says softly, once he catches up with her. ”Did you know we celebrated our fifth and seventh anniversary here? Good food, great staff. They have a knack for knowing when to be around and when to politely mind their own business.” She opens the door to the ladies’ room. ”In here.”
Seth almost balks but it’s not like Stephanie’s forgotten that he’s a man. He enters into the most ridiculous luxurious restroom he’s ever seen. It’s all black and chrome and leather, reflective surfaces, wash basins that look like works of art, low, ambient lighting, a low couch by the wall. He catches a glimpse of them in the mirror before she takes his tie and pulls him down for a kiss.
Her lips are glossy and soft, softer than Dean's, and she tastes like lipstick and coffee and wine. With Roman, Seth would drag his fingers through his hair or grab his hips, pull him closer. With Stephanie he keeps his hands carefully to himself.
The kiss is good, sweet and sharp with enough bite to excite him, and he gasps into her mouth and remembers his place. He's never kissed like this before, without taking anything for himself. It's exhilarating.
Behind them the door opens. Seth tries to pull away and Stephanies hands become talons digging into his flesh. "Eyes on me, Seth.”
Her voice is calm, certain. He listens to the click-click-click of heels against the polished floor. They come to a full stop somewhere behind him.
"Really.” The voice is caustic.
Stephanie gives him another lingering kiss, and he can’t tell if it’s a deliberate provocation or a reward for good behavior. Then she pulls back and arches an eyebrow at the stranger. "Do you mind?" she says, icily polite. He doesn’t hear the response, just the steps retreating, the door falling closed with a low thud.
He wonders if the woman's gone to complain to the staff and if Stephanie will care if they get thrown out. But Stephanie takes his hand and leads him into one of the stalls. 'Stall' seems like the wrong word; it's bigger than the bathroom at home and ten times as luxurious. She pushes him down on the black toilet seat and steps out of her black panties, handing them to him.
”Hold these. Don’t get them wrinkled.”
They’re sheer and lacy and damp at the crotch. He holds them carefully as she straddles him, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him breathless. She's rolling her hips against him, making him gasp.
"You're hard." She palms him through his pants and he chokes back a groan, hips jerking. "Is it for Hunter or for me?"
"Both, ma'am."
"So polite." She kisses him again, briefly catching his lip between her teeth. "Good. I like that in a man. Polite, and eager to please. Are you?"
Seth's head is reeling. "Yes, ma'am," he manages, struggling to keep still as she teases him with touches too light to bring relief but too firm to ignore.
Once she's got him gasping she removes her hand and works loose the cord holding back his hair. "Such a beautiful man. And all ours. Aren't you?"
He nods, not trusting his voice to carry.
"Good. Because we don't share. Ever." She smiles, devilish, and brings his hand to her mouth.
"Oh god," he hears himself say as she takes two fingers in her mouth, tongue swirling around them. Then she guides his hand under his dress, between her thighs.
”Now, Seth. Please me.”
It's surreal. He hasn't slept with anyone since Roman, since Dean, and no one he slept with was ever like this: pushy, demanding, and one hundred percent in it for themselves.
She shows him what she likes, guides his hand until he can give her exactly what she wants in the exact way she wants it. Her sex is hot and tight, slick around his fingers as he pushes in. She groans, laying her head back. "Mmm, yes. I've been wanting this ever since you grabbed that chair. Do you know how hot you looked tonight? How determined, how powerful? I've been wet for hours, thinking about your hands inside of me."
He's not sure he's supposed to answer, and even if he is, he's not sure he could. He twists his hand a little, finds her clit with his thumb, and she gasps and pushes down harder.
"Yes, come on, like that. Make me come."
No one's ever told him what to do in bed before. Not like this. He's keenly aware that she's using him and is surprised by how it makes his stomach tighten and his blood surge straight to his groin.
Afterwards she touches up her make up and fixes her hair while he tries to catch his breath. His erection's a noticeable bulge in his dress pants, but he hasn't been given permission to touch. His gaze keeps traveling to the hem of her dress and the curve if her thigh.
Once finished, she looks flawless once more. She takes one look at him and shakes her head. "No. That won't do. Stand up."
Stephanie adjusts his tie, straightens his collar, then ties back his hair. She folds the panties and puts them in his chest pocket, then gives him a little shove. "Wash your hands, Seth."
By the time they're back at the table Hunter has wrapped up his phone call and settled the bill. There's a taxi waiting outside. No one asks if Seth wants to come along, and by now he's so accustomed to following their lead that it doesn't occur to him that he might have a say in it. Hunter guides him into the back seat with a hand around his neck like he owns him. Seth thinks that maybe he does.
Stephanie joins him in the back while Hunter sits up front. He startles as her hand lands on his thigh, fingers brushing against his cock.
Back straight. Eyes down. Hands in your lap. Be still. Good boy.
His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, his breath high in his throat. At first, he thinks her touch might be accidental. Then she leans forward to ask if Hunter remembered to call the electrician about some work they’re having done at the house and her hand shifts a little higher and she starts caressing the line of his cock, casually, lightly, and he digs his nails into his palms and bites back the whine that threatens to escape his lips.
Be good. Be still.
Hunter catches his eyes in the rearview mirror, and Seth’s stomach lurches at the knowing intensity of that gaze. He feels trapped between them, and it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, that Stephanie McMahon is touching his dick in the back of a cab while her husband’s watching. He’s probably going to get in trouble for this. This isn’t - it doesn’t happen. It can’t happen.
He breathes shallowly through his nose and tries not to do anything to draw the driver's attention.
The car stops. He waits for the door to open, not because they told him to, but because he can’t get his limbs to function. He fumbles with the seatbelt. His legs are shaking. They bring him in with them. He catches a glimpse of some coworkers in the hotel bar, Sasha and Bayley, Cesaro, Xavier and Big E, but not Dean or Roman, and he’s sickly relieved.
If they saw him like this, they’d know.
It feels like everyone around them knows.
They take the elevator up. Hunter whispers something in Stephanie’s ear, and she laughs. Her black panties are still folded in Seth’s pocket. Her sex is bare under ten inches of skirt and she walks like a queen, head held high.
Inside, they undress him. Both of them, at the same time. There are hands everywhere. He hasn’t been this drunk in years. When he’s naked and they’re still fully dressed, Stephanie takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom. Hunter helps her with the zipper and she lets her dress fall and steps out of it, settling on the bed.
”Come, Seth. Use your mouth.”
"Wait." Hunter opens his belt and pulls it out of its loops. ”Arms behind your back.”
Seth can’t hold back the little moan when Hunter wraps the supple leather around his arms and pulls, bringing his elbows together until they’re almost touching. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of pain, the sweet burn of a hard workout.
It gets a little hazy. He’s never felt so present and so far away at the same time before. Stephanie's no less demanding now, and it takes every bit of his attention just to please her. Hunter's got two fingers inside of him, driving him insane, and he doesn't recognize the sounds he makes.
Later he's on his back. Stephanie's pinning him down. He's stronger than she is, but she told him not to move. Hunter almost folds him in half as he pushes inside. It's so, so good. He's scrambling, clutching at air to keep from disobeying a direct order, from --
Stephanie kisses him, filthy and deep. She's got to be able to taste herself on his lips. It makes his dick twitch.
"Hunter likes it when they beg," she whispers in his ear. "He likes to know how bad they want it."
Seth begs. He's not sure what he's begging for but it flows out of him, a litany of pleas, and Stephanie laughs sweetly and holds his wrists harder while Hunter keeps pounding his ass, the sound of grunts and gasps and flesh smacking against flesh filling the room.
When Hunter comes Seth mourns the condom. He would have wanted to feel the hot seed fill him, then trickle out of him again. Dean always liked to watch it. Roman used to call it filthy, but it never failed to make him wild.
"My turn," Stephanie says. "Hands and knees, Seth."
He lays gasping for a few moments, watching Stephanie slip a little vibrating bullet into her harness and put it on. Her cock is a sleek dark blue thing, and the sight of her lubing it up makes his dick twitch. He wishes he could take it in his mouth, but he can't remember words beyond 'please'.
He's shaky, arms and legs trembling as he gets into position. Stephanie doesn't bother with prep. The bed dips under her weight. Her slender hands are cool against his burning skin. Then she slides right in.
The sensation of going from empty to full in a heartbeat is amazing. He cries out, rocking back on her cock. He's already loose and wet from the pounding Hunter gave him, but her cock is longer, thinner, and fills him in a different way. Her pace is slower, more measured, and sometimes she stops with her entire length buried in his ass and just grinds against him. He can feel the buzzing of her vibe, and if he can feel it-
"Oh god oh god oh god please god please please please-"
"Good boy." Hunter offers Seth his thumb and Seth takes it greedily, drawing it into his mouth. "Look how well you're taking it. You were born for this, weren't you? How many times do you think we could fuck you? How many hours could you last?"
Seth whines around his thumb, pushing back on Stephanie's cock. He's chasing a climax he's not sure they'll allow him, and that desperate aching need is the sweetest thing he's ever felt.
When Stephanie pulls out of him he's afraid it's over, but they only reposition him on his back, wrists tied to the headboard.
"Should we let him come?" Hunter is stroking Seth's dick almost absent-mindedly, not even trying to get him off. Seth's moaning, hips jerking despite his attempts to be good, be still, be patient.
"Mmm. Not yet, I don't think. We don't have to be in bed for another hour." Stephanie has removed her harness and dropped it unceremously by the bed. She "You want his mouth?'
Hunter laughs. "I'm not getting it up again. You go ahead. If we have time later, I want to see how close I can get to fisting him."
Seth's breath catches in equal parts fear and excitement and his hips snap upwards of their own accord.
"Oh, you like that?" Hunter smears the precum across the head of his dick with his thumb. "Of course you do. Slutty little thing like you."
The mixture of approval and condescension is intoxicating. Seth closes his eyes against the sweet burn of shame and spreads his legs wider.
"Jesus." Stephanie sounds breathless. "Every time I think this can't get any better. I bet I could use my purple dildo on him. We've got to see if it'll fit the harness." She straddles his hips, and he opens his eyes in time to see her sink down on his dick, smooth and easy. "Oh, Seth, fuck. Don't come. Don't you dare come until I say you can."
Stephanie's riding him, slow and langorous, her and Hunter trading lazy kisses. Seth's sweaty, exhausted, too tired to work his hips, and when he tries too hold back, but he can't. His climax makes his toes curl and his whole body shudder. He's half-aware of Hunter stroking Stephanie through one last orgasm beside him, but his mind is empty, his body spent.
They clean him up, give him water, but leave him tied to the headboard. It's good. Means he doesn't have to worry about overstaying his welcome.
"I'm thinking we could use a cock ring next time," Stephanie's saying. "Or you could tie his balls? He'd look pretty in rope, wouldn't he?"
Somebody's petting his hair. It's nice. He feels sated and happy and safe, everything anxious and jittery mellowed out, gone.
It was a good decision, he thinks. They'll understand. They always knew he was destined for other, greater things.