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neontheweenie · 2 months

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Princess

Hello! This is my first story on here and my first time writing smut (for others to see), so please tell me what you think and give me feedback! I try to add a little plot in here to make it interesting! I do not give the MC a name, race, height, or any other defining features other than She/Her pronouns for ambiguity and inclusivity.

{Disclaimer- I own only the characters I create, do not own any part of the WWE, and am merely writing this for entertainment.}

{Warnings- Semi-public sex, use of the 'princess' nickname, praise kink, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, and aftercare.}

"Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends."

-Hafiz

There's blood on my teeth. It's thick, hot, and sticky in a way that reminds me of syrup doused on a stack of pancakes.

When Rhea said she wanted to spar, I thought she meant playful, almost gentle jabs filled with flirty commentary like we usually have. Not... this. For some reason, she is ticked off today and won't tell me why.

You know it's bad when you won't even tell your best friend of the past 20 fucking years.

My fingers smear the hot drip of blood cascading down the front of my lip, the sticky substance shoving itself into my fingerprints. The ring's initial squish has worn off, allowing me to feel all the hard springs press up and into the thin skin of my knees.

"What's got your panties in a fucking bunch today?" My hands shake a little as my fingers wipe the dribbles of blood away. I can feel it, still oozing into my mouth, staining my teeth, and tainting my tongue with the taste of iron.

"Nothin'." What a load of bullshit. Something is up, and she will tell me what it is.

"Uh-huh. And I'm just going to believe you socked me in the face for funsies." Her lips curl into a sneer, her hands on mine to help me up. With one tug, I am on my feet, launched so close to her that I can feel her breath on my lips.

"We are sparring. I am supposed to sock you in the face, princess." Her Australian twang crawls under my skin, her word choice making the hairs of my neck stand.

I won't lie. I love her a lot. I like being called a princess by her a lot. She has always called me that ever since she had to push Ahmed Okonkwo off the swings in the fifth grade for me to get a turn.

"Yeah, but..." I pout a little, anger sparking in my chest. Usually, she treats me like I am special, and refuses to hit me too hard. She treats me like a princess.

But if she wants to be a bitch, she'll be getting the special bitch treatment. "Whatever." I push away from her, missing the crackling tension before putting my legs in a wide stance.

Rhea circles me, her blue eyes trickling over every inch of my sweats with eager interest. She isn't wearing any makeup, but her face's sharp angles shine under the ring's yellowish lights.

Sweat emanates from every surface in here, tainting the air with a gnarly smell and making everything two shades darker than it should be. Even the air seems dimmed from shadows, making it seem like a noir film.

I bounce on the floor, feeling the circular springs press on my socked feet.

"Come on, princess," She entices, getting close to my back until I feel her breath rushing down my neck. Her hands rushed along the curve of my waist, and I found myself wanting to know why she was being all touchy-feely again.

That is when I felt it. Her hands were trying to sneak under my arms so that she could pick me up and slam me down without my knowing it. Why is she being such a bitch today?!

All my life for as long as I can remember, Rhea has been a part of me, and we always got through our moods and stages together. I don't like this bitchy mood. I even preferred her fuckboy stage over this.

Once I can feel her shit-eating grin over my shoulder, indicating that she thought her plan worked, I shove my foot into her shin and spin out of her hold. When I turned, one of her legs was hoisted up to her chest and she was bouncing on the other.

"I can't believe that you were going to try and distract me!" I whine, returning to my wide stance on the other side of the ring. The synthetic material of the ring's ropes scratched against my shoulder and made my skin itch.

Rhea is still bouncing around on one foot, her bottom lip clenched between her sterling white teeth. Something about that view made me go hot under the collar, seeing how the subdued grime of the gym made her shine.

"It was working, wasn't it?" Through the pain, her Australian accent was exemplified. I grimace at her words, watching her put her foot down and stand before me. She doesn't look like she is trying to play offense or defense. She just looks tired.

"Dude, seriously, what the fuck crawled up your ass? Did I do something?" I ask, genuinely concerned that I may have done something to irk her. She usually tells me flat out if she hates something I did, but maybe I did something really bad this time.

"You did do something!" She chuffed, and I have to admit that I was surprised by her answer.

"Is this about the cake pop?" I know I ate her cake pop the other day, but she stole my french fries at lunch before that! It was a cake pop for a french fry, and it was a brutal hostage situation!

"No, this isn't about the goddamned cake pop!" She snips, her hand flying up in the air in pure frustration. "It's you, princess!" Her hand slaps back onto her thigh, the resounding smack echoing in the completely empty gym. The reason that Rhea and I picked this gym, even with its grime and old equipment, is because no one goes here.

"What do you mean me? Did I say something or do something you didn't like?" I get closer to her, not daring to touch her, but just close enough that I can feel her breath on my face. I stare directly into her eyes, the cold blue shards amongst the stormy gray making me realize how intricate she truly is. How human she is.

"No, you just... you are too much for me." Is she calling me a handful?!

"What do you mean too much?" The question comes out too stern like I am demanding a reply instead of requesting one. Our whole lives, Rhea has been fidgety about her emotions and thoughts, never truly coming to terms with how deeply she feels them and tries to hide them away from even herself.

But never, ever, in a bajillion years did I think she would have the nerve to call me 'too much.'

"Sit." She demands, tugging me until we are on the edge of the ring. I can feel the heat coming off her body, and our thighs are almost touching as we sit. Almost. "I need you to take this seriously and not make fun of me for this."

"Yeah, of course." She hasn't been this serious since she lost her match against Charlotte Flair. Anxiety balls in my stomach and jams itself in my throat like a thick ball of sludge, refusing to move but making me feel sweaty and impatient for it to leave.

"You have too much muchness for me. That muchness is what fucked me over here. That muchness is what makes you too good for me in every way." Her fingers trickled onto my sweatpants-covered thigh as her eyes dashed slightly over my head to avoid my gaze. "I love you. I love you and I love your muchness."

I feel that ball of sludge forming even bigger. Rhea motherfucking Ripley loves me? Me?! My 'muchness' is what made her love me like I have been wanting her to for years?

My cheeks are so hot that the bloody residue from earlier has baked onto them, forcing them to be crispy and cracked and annoyingly itchy.

"I have loved you for a really long time but it wasn't until recently that I realized it wasn't the kind of love I thought it was, princess." My eyes are so wide that owls must be jealous of me. She looks so scared to be admitting this, her normal bravado and confidence scrubbed away from her.

Her hand hasn't left my thigh, and the tattoos there have become the object of my attention. That is, until it moves to my jaw and pulls my gaze to her pleading, scared eyes. "Princess, I am admitting the most terrifying thoughts of my entire life right now. I need you to fucking look at me."

Her voice was gravelly and deep and heavenly. It was also really hot, but we don't need to mention that right now.

"I love you too," I whisper, voice shaky as I do so. I always have loved her too. I was just conscious about what kind of love it was and where it came from. Do I love her platonically? A million times yes. Do I love her romantically? A bazillion times yes.

"Really?" I have never seen her so scared. She is so precious.

"Yeah, really." In all honesty, I am just relieved that she wasn't calling me a handful. I think if that happened, I would literally snap her in half right now.

"Oh, thank you." Her head hangs on her shoulders, and the tight grip that was on my thigh loosens. Her fear is seemingly gone, with every ounce of it washed away like it was never there. Her confidence comes back, glowing through her toothy smile.

"I should be thanking you." My voice is soft as I rub my hand over her shoulders until I am draped over her, "You did what I haven't been brave enough to for years."

In one split second, her lips were on mine, her teeth nibbling on the edge of my bottom lip. Her hand forced my head to turn at an uncomfortable angle until she could consistently keep us connected. My neck ached as I strived to keep up with her fast pace and keep my head how she wanted it.

My chest was fizzing with every riotous emotion that I knew kissing her would result in. We have flirted before, (what pair of best friends haven't flirted with each other?), but it never felt as good as this.

We don't have to worry about being ridiculed or gawked at because the old man working the front desk is the only other person in here, and he is fast asleep. His snores are small, almost inaudible amongst the chatter of Audrey Hepburn's voice that is streaming from his small T.V.

"Come here, princess." She pats her lap, and I move so that my legs are on either side of our hips. At this angle, I have to lean down to kiss her, but it lets me dig my fingers into the roots of her black hair.

She tastes like vanilla chapstick and pineapples, but her hair smells like sea salt and feels smooth as silk. Her hands race all over my waist, touching and pulling as much fabric as she could into her greedy hands.

With every push of my lips, she leans farther back into the ring ropes, the tough material digging into her muscular back. Her hands hook on the tops of my sweatpants, igniting a fire deep in my belly from how good this all feels.

Her lips pull away from mine, and I whine from the loss. "Get into the dressing room." Her finger points to the small room as her demand leaves her perfect lips. "Now."

I crawl off her lap, making a proper show of it as I do by allowing my fingers to teasingly run down her thighs, and walk to the dressing room.

The door leading in is black and foreboding of what is to come, but the dressing room itself is nicer than the rest of the gym. It is recently remodeled, with 1 stall on the back wall and green benches amidst the tiny lockers. The floor is clean, white tile, contrasting the dark green of the benches and the navy blue of the lockers, and it reeks of lemon cleaner in here.

Altogether, it's not the most romantic hookup spot in the world but oh-fucking-well.

I hear the lock of the door click solemnly before I feel her lips on the nape of my neck. Her hands find purchase on my hips, digging into the skin with a pinching need.

She is devouring me, absorbing every inch of skin with little nibbles and even tinier kisses. I can't help the breathy moans that escape my lips, or how my hands reach back to hold the loose fabric of her t-shirt.

Her lips touch the rim of my earlobe, leaving behind traces of her chapstick. "Be a good girl and take off those sweatpants for me." She whispers, her body fluidly trickling out from behind me to sit on a bench. She leans against the lockers, using one hand to cover her mouth and the other to support her elbow.

"You want me to do a fucking strip tease for you?" I ask, my tone indicating how incredulous the idea sounds.

My hands are already pulling the material down my thighs. Once they are off, I leave them in a discarded pile on the floor and pull my shirt over my head. I don't feel like I am being sexy enough, but I just want her to see what she wants and make her happy.

I don't take off my bra or panties, though. I leave those on and scuffle back over to her pondering gaze. I reach out to touch her again, but she stops me with a hand on my wrist.

"Do I really have to ask you to take those off too?" Her eyebrow is cocked, daring me to object.

"No. I guess not." Does she care that I like being bossed around? No.

With a slight pout, I unclip the light pink bra, feeling the lace brush my sensitive breasts before it's gone. The undies come off too, and I thank myself for forgetting to do laundry so I couldn't wear my 'comfy' undergarments today.

"Goddamn, you are so fucking pretty, princess." She mumbles, ripping my body down until I am straddling her sitting form. It isn't gentle or calm, but it makes me so wet that I feel like a fucking river down there.

Her lips find mine again, and my hands go back to her hair. She rakes her fingers over my left breast, stopping only momentarily to tease by pulling my pebbled nipple, and then continues down to my stomach.

At this point, I am groaning into her mouth, my hips shuffling above hers as the air in here cools the slick between my thighs. It all feels like too much and not enough all at the same time.

I get bold enough to jam my hands under the bottom of her shirt, feeling the tense muscles of her stomach and the hard bones of her pelvis. It's her turn to groan, even if her hands are still sliding around the lower part of my torso.

"Switch me." She demands, and I clamber to get off of her. She stands, stripping herself of her t-shirt and shorts until she is only left in her sports bra and undies. The more I see the more I want.

She pushes me back so that I am lying down on the bench, splayed in front of her and allowing her to see every inch of me. She looks like some kind of Greek statue, all muscle, and imposing angles.

Her lips smooth over my neck and chest until she is at eye level with my pelvis. She kisses the skin of my stomach, gently sucking to create hickeys only she will see.

Her hand travels up to support my slightly craning back while the other spreads my legs farther apart until her shoulders can fit between them. I am a sweaty, blushing, moaning mess but I can't stop to compose myself.

"Rhea, please?" I breathlessly mutter, the friction between my legs becoming too much to bear. I need her, and I need her quickly.

"Please what, princess? What do you want me to do?" I can feel her hand ghosting over my folds, teasing me and making me whine.

"Don't tease!" I beg, but she doesn't care. She likes this, the little sadist. "Just, p- oh fuck." Halfway through my thought, her fingers jammed themselves up to rub at my clit. They weren't rubbing hard or fast, they were slow and smooth, which made me feel every racket of pleasure even more.

If I could have done anything other than hold my breath, I would have screamed in pleasure. But, instead, I sucked in the air until my chest felt like it would explode and dug my nails into her shoulders. I know that crescent moons formed on her skin from my nails, but I don't think either of us gave a flying shit about it.

She took her fingers away for one moment, wiping the slick that was on them onto the skin of my thigh. All the air I was holding deflated from my chest in a whine.

"Rhea! You are teasing again!" This time, I am lucky enough that she lets me finish my thought before literally fucking me with something.

Just after I finished my whining, her tongue cruised over my wet folds before lightly racing over my swollen clit. I could feel the hot metal of her tongue piercing, and she somehow managed to use the metal ball on the end to add pressure wherever she wanted to.

Spasms of pleasure forced my legs to jitter around her head, and her hands pushed the insides of my thighs as open as they could be.

"You taste just as good as I thought you would princess." Oh.

"Thank you?" I squeak out, moaning when her fingers easily slip inside of me. The intense pressure that has been building in my stomach feels dangerously close to imploding, and I chase it with all my might. My hips buck up to meet the rapid, bruising pace her fingers set, but her shoulders don't let my thighs clench like they want to.

She brings her tongue back to the party, teasing me by lapping at my clit and looking up at me with her sharp blue eyes. She is a sight to see, her determination plastered over her face.

All this playing and toying and teasing got me so close to the edge that I could taste the overwhelming pleasure. Tiny rockets of explosive euphoria alight in my brain, and I just need a little push.

She pulls away, taking away one of the major sensations. I huff, my head leaning up to look at the dressing room's ceiling in pure annoyance and shock that she actually took something away from me.

Rhea, of course, looks mighty satisfied with herself for edging me like that.

"Rhea, please, I was so close." I turn to begging when her fingers set a slow pace and her tongue hasn't come back yet. She almost looks like she is going to cave and give me what I want, but then her evil little smirk comes back.

"OK. I'll give you the princess treatment, but just know that princesses have to deal with a lot all at once." Wait. What does she mean?!

I can't ponder the thought any further as her fingers return to their fast pace and her tongue is doing what her tongue does. How the hell does she make me feel this good?

The metal ball on her tongue ring swivels around my clit in a way that forces my back to fully arch and my hips swivel to accommodate the onslaught of pleasure. Her hand moves from supporting my back to pinning my hips down to the bench.

"Rhea, I'm gonna-" I trail off, feeling my hips shake and the tiny sparklers in my stomach turn into lit fireworks.

She pulls away for one second to mumble, "Fucking do it, princess." Her tone is dipped in desire and double-fried in lust, and it makes me pop my top.

Every muscle, joint, and bone in my body is on fire and tight with too much goodness. I feel like I am suffocating, holding my breath as I frantically moan and try to stop squirming. It's so overstimulating and so much to handle.

Oh. That's what she meant by a lot all at once.

Once the waves of pleasure calm themselves and my body relaxes, she kisses her way back up slowly, stopping at the previous hickeys she placed to make them even darker.

"I love you." She whispers into my ear, both of us sitting up on the bench. I am sticky with sweat, among other things, and looking at her reveals that she is just as much of a blushing mess as I am.

"I love you too," I mumble back. Her shoulders are littered with crescent moons, her chest is rapidly moving with short, deep breaths, and her hair is fluffed up and poofy. I lay my head on her shoulder for a few minutes, simply sitting there and absorbing her.

She stands after a long while, washing her hands and gently maneuvering my thighs to clean me off with a wet paper towel she got from the dispenser. Not only is she still a total smoke show, but now she is taking even better care of me than when we were 'just friends', and it makes me smile.

"I hope you aren't smiling because you think it is over. I still have so many things I have been dying to do to you, princess." She says, throwing her shirt and pants back on.

"I know it's not over, you little dork." I tease, following suit and getting my clothes back on. "And who said you get to have all the fun tonight?"

She laughs, grabbing my hand in hers and carrying both our gym bags.

"Let's go home, princess." We walk out of the gym, not daring to wake the front desk man, but our routine of walking out seems different. Better, in a way.

It might be just because I got my brains fucked out, but goddamn it I love tonight and I love her and she loves me. It's all I have ever wanted, and I finally have it.

---

Fin.

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