Broken Handcuffs [III]

iv.

It was never personal.

It was never in the room, either. Cars, bathrooms, closets, a dark area of the arena where they knew WWE wasn't operating in. It was quiet and messy— low whimpers, lipstick smudged by their teeth, sweat running over foundation and highlights, ring gear soaked from their orgasm with little to no time to change.

They never kissed. It made things personal if they kissed, and it was never personal.

They were prideful, too. Even when they were getting fucked with the adrenaline still pumping (which was their favorite) and one of them kept hitting a certain spot, they never gave the other the satisfaction of moaning their name.

When the ceiling lights are no longer blurry, they adjust their appearances and leave without words. It was just fucking.

It was never personal.

In other words, the push-and-pull relationship of two coworkers.

"You should dye your hair red," She said, a side remark after releasing the choke hold she had on her partner through their very intense orgasm. There was a scoff in response, it was pretty breathless but she also rolled her eyes to further her point.

"You should mind your business," Was also added to the response. Her hands were deliberately rough, pulling the other woman towards her with the intentions of repaying the favor. However she was stopped with a shove.

"I have a match in 5."

"Uh, so do I. We're in the same match!" The hands are back again and slapped away. "Will you-"

"Shut up. You're not touching me tonight." And the statement was a little jarring because they always make sure they come, at least once during any of these trysts.

So that is the reason why she seems so exasperated when she asks, "Why not?" And clears her throat because that tone makes it sound like she wants her, and God forbid she actually does want her and gets teased for it. There is no response however, but her hands are back in familiar territory (the other woman's ring shorts) working her up to a fever pitch again. "Fuck," She leans forward and their foreheads are touching, cool sweat on her brow as she tries this time to remain quiet without the encouragement of not breathing. "O-our match is coming," She prolongs the -ing when her lover's hand works faster, rubbing her the right way and making her toes curl.

"I know," Is all that is said.

"I'm so close, fuck," She breathes, head dropping to the other's shoulder.

"You get five seconds. Five."

"Don't stop-"

"One." The hand is removed and its owner has an evil grin lighting up their face. "I want your hair red by next week. It's showtime." She leaves the closet first, with the other woman following behind, fixing her appearance as she walks past the gorilla curtain.

"And their opponents, the team of Sasha Banks and the RAW Women's Champion, Alexa Bliss!"

____________

"Oh, Mercedes going back on the darker side of the spectrum?" Pam (Bayley) hummed in delight as she twirled the fresh burgundy locks of her best friend. Mercedes gave a smile, eyes cutting over to a small smile on Lexi's face while she's typing on her phone.

"Yeah, it was an impulse decision. I think I'm gonna do like a pink soon. The red was a stupid idea." Sasha doesn't need to glance to know that she's gotten Lexi's attention and glare. It's funny riling that little one up.