Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 30, 2010 6:02:57 GMT -5
His thick, rigid body was pouring with sweat. His breaths hollow pants and his face beat red. He was speaking to himself in huffs, as he continued pushing his body up and down. She had never understood it. Surely he could just think everything he felt the need to say?
It was empowering, perhaps. His voice. Echoing for the world to hear. That he was in command. That he could not be stopped. That what he wanted would be his.
Such denial he lived in.
“Nine… hund… red… nine… tee… eight…”
Cara Costello put down her pink Nintendo DS and turned her attention to Declan Prescott, who seemed only moments away from heart failure.
“Nine… hund… red… nine… tee… nine…”
There was only one more to go, as his body shook and his arms trembled. She was glad he was almost finished. Whenever he would begin a workout session, she’d find her eyes fixated on him. With no self-control at all, she simply could not stop staring at him. His round, tight muscles clenching in and out, like iron turned to flesh, never failed to make her incredibly flustered.
But by the time he was finished, she mourned for him. His body would always be in extreme amounts of pain. The perfection he maintained came with a price.
“One… moth… er… fuck… ing… THOUSAND!”
He collapsed on the gym floor, his tongue hanging out of his head and panting rapidly. Cara attempted to help him up, as she always did, but he declined… as he always did. He took his workouts rediculously seriously. It was the one thing he would never accept her assistance on.
“I need to do everything myself when I train. To be completely dedicated is how I get the most out of my sessions.”
Cara felt a ball of sadness swell up in her gut. He was still training. Six days a week, like he always did. Even though he wasn’t wrestling anymore. She knew he wanted to step into a wrestling match and compete more than anything else in the whole world… except for one thing. He wanted to be with her above all else. And she was the one preventing him from doing what he loved once more. It made her feel like a monster.
She was shaken from her thoughts, as Declan had taken a water bottle from the cooler at her feet and was moaning with pleasure, as the icy cool liquid flooded down his throat. She ran her hand down his uncovered abs, his sweat enveloping her palm as she went. She found herself not only accustomed to his sweat now, but actually quite fond of it. The passion that drove him in everything he did was so comforting to her.
“So what’s on for the rest of the day?” he asked, rubbing himself with a towel. “I mean, I need to shower first, but after we can do whatever you like.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I sort of just wanna go home and sleep, but we can’t, because eD, Skinny and the fucking penguin are probably still there, playing Gamecube. I just wish they'd leave us alone...”
“You really don’t like having to share, do you?”
She stared up at him, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“I mean, we could ‘sleep’ in my office, but after what that deranged paedophile, Crimson Ghost did to it…”
“That’s not what I meant! Besides, you have another office at the HQ.”
“Hey, I do too. And Austin hasn’t even had sex on the desk in that office! At least I don’t think he…”
Declan trailed off, clearly disturbed by the mental image he had unknowingly forced upon himself.
“We could always crash at Roberts’ place,” he began again, seemingly having successfully shaken the mental pictures of Chris Austin. “His place is huge. There has to be at least one room that doesn’t reek of pot…”
He, again, trailed off.
“What is it with you and that guy?” she asked, poking Declan sharply in the stomach.
“Ow!” he barked, grabbing his rock hard stomach. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Cara, but… I love Travis Roberts.”
“WHAT?!” she roared, leaping to her feet and turning the attention of every person in the gym squarely on the married couple. Tears were already forming at the bottom of her eyes.
“Like a man loves his God,” Declan continued. “Travis Roberts will return honour to this company and to the memory of the greatest wrestler of all time - Jeremy Sprock. He’s my saviour. Proof that, for all my failings and all my unreliability, my master can still be proud of me.”
“I don’t want you to ever use the words ‘love’ and ‘Travis Roberts’ in the same sentence again… ever!”
Declan smiled kindly at Cara. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… well, I’m excited, sweetheart. In less than three weeks, I’ll have the chance to see Komosube put down like the worthless dog that he is in front of the entire world, while in the arms of the woman I love. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“You’re still mad about that time he stomped you?” she mocked, unsure whether she was upset by his comments regarding Roberts or flattered by the words concerning her.
“No, no,” Declan said. “A stomping I can handle. It’s the charade that bothers me. All these… fake… people, like Komosube, acting like the world is theirs to command. Look at the chunky ass. What was he before Global Domination? He was a fat guy, who the fans didn’t even recognise. Then, he beats me up - which he was supposed to do - is chosen, by me as a glorified puppet Champion and these fans treat him like some false idol. Now he struts around with a belt I nearly died trying to protect, as if he ever accomplished anything. All his anger and arrogance, gushing out of him like a broken dam. I despise monsters. Especially those who can’t see their manufacturing label.”
“And how do you define a monster?” she nervously inquired, biting her glittering bottom lip in dread of the answer.
“A monster,” he replied, smiling. “Is just a dog, with falsified wings.”
He now took her by the hand and quickly raced out of the gym, dragging her along.
“Where are we going?!” she squeaked.
“I’m going to show you that you don’t need to fear monsters anymore.”
Cara’s stomach turned, as the words echoed silently in her head.
“Not even the one inside me?”
It was empowering, perhaps. His voice. Echoing for the world to hear. That he was in command. That he could not be stopped. That what he wanted would be his.
Such denial he lived in.
“Nine… hund… red… nine… tee… eight…”
Cara Costello put down her pink Nintendo DS and turned her attention to Declan Prescott, who seemed only moments away from heart failure.
“Nine… hund… red… nine… tee… nine…”
There was only one more to go, as his body shook and his arms trembled. She was glad he was almost finished. Whenever he would begin a workout session, she’d find her eyes fixated on him. With no self-control at all, she simply could not stop staring at him. His round, tight muscles clenching in and out, like iron turned to flesh, never failed to make her incredibly flustered.
But by the time he was finished, she mourned for him. His body would always be in extreme amounts of pain. The perfection he maintained came with a price.
“One… moth… er… fuck… ing… THOUSAND!”
He collapsed on the gym floor, his tongue hanging out of his head and panting rapidly. Cara attempted to help him up, as she always did, but he declined… as he always did. He took his workouts rediculously seriously. It was the one thing he would never accept her assistance on.
“I need to do everything myself when I train. To be completely dedicated is how I get the most out of my sessions.”
Cara felt a ball of sadness swell up in her gut. He was still training. Six days a week, like he always did. Even though he wasn’t wrestling anymore. She knew he wanted to step into a wrestling match and compete more than anything else in the whole world… except for one thing. He wanted to be with her above all else. And she was the one preventing him from doing what he loved once more. It made her feel like a monster.
She was shaken from her thoughts, as Declan had taken a water bottle from the cooler at her feet and was moaning with pleasure, as the icy cool liquid flooded down his throat. She ran her hand down his uncovered abs, his sweat enveloping her palm as she went. She found herself not only accustomed to his sweat now, but actually quite fond of it. The passion that drove him in everything he did was so comforting to her.
“So what’s on for the rest of the day?” he asked, rubbing himself with a towel. “I mean, I need to shower first, but after we can do whatever you like.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I sort of just wanna go home and sleep, but we can’t, because eD, Skinny and the fucking penguin are probably still there, playing Gamecube. I just wish they'd leave us alone...”
“You really don’t like having to share, do you?”
She stared up at him, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“I mean, we could ‘sleep’ in my office, but after what that deranged paedophile, Crimson Ghost did to it…”
“That’s not what I meant! Besides, you have another office at the HQ.”
“Hey, I do too. And Austin hasn’t even had sex on the desk in that office! At least I don’t think he…”
Declan trailed off, clearly disturbed by the mental image he had unknowingly forced upon himself.
“We could always crash at Roberts’ place,” he began again, seemingly having successfully shaken the mental pictures of Chris Austin. “His place is huge. There has to be at least one room that doesn’t reek of pot…”
He, again, trailed off.
“What is it with you and that guy?” she asked, poking Declan sharply in the stomach.
“Ow!” he barked, grabbing his rock hard stomach. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Cara, but… I love Travis Roberts.”
“WHAT?!” she roared, leaping to her feet and turning the attention of every person in the gym squarely on the married couple. Tears were already forming at the bottom of her eyes.
“Like a man loves his God,” Declan continued. “Travis Roberts will return honour to this company and to the memory of the greatest wrestler of all time - Jeremy Sprock. He’s my saviour. Proof that, for all my failings and all my unreliability, my master can still be proud of me.”
“I don’t want you to ever use the words ‘love’ and ‘Travis Roberts’ in the same sentence again… ever!”
Declan smiled kindly at Cara. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… well, I’m excited, sweetheart. In less than three weeks, I’ll have the chance to see Komosube put down like the worthless dog that he is in front of the entire world, while in the arms of the woman I love. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“You’re still mad about that time he stomped you?” she mocked, unsure whether she was upset by his comments regarding Roberts or flattered by the words concerning her.
“No, no,” Declan said. “A stomping I can handle. It’s the charade that bothers me. All these… fake… people, like Komosube, acting like the world is theirs to command. Look at the chunky ass. What was he before Global Domination? He was a fat guy, who the fans didn’t even recognise. Then, he beats me up - which he was supposed to do - is chosen, by me as a glorified puppet Champion and these fans treat him like some false idol. Now he struts around with a belt I nearly died trying to protect, as if he ever accomplished anything. All his anger and arrogance, gushing out of him like a broken dam. I despise monsters. Especially those who can’t see their manufacturing label.”
“And how do you define a monster?” she nervously inquired, biting her glittering bottom lip in dread of the answer.
“A monster,” he replied, smiling. “Is just a dog, with falsified wings.”
He now took her by the hand and quickly raced out of the gym, dragging her along.
“Where are we going?!” she squeaked.
“I’m going to show you that you don’t need to fear monsters anymore.”
Cara’s stomach turned, as the words echoed silently in her head.
“Not even the one inside me?”
