Flames

On Mondays We Wear Leather, part 2

Some people were natural heels, at least in terms of wrestling; others were born faces. A select few could play both roles well, but they were rare. Outside of the ring, Seth couldn't be less of a heel, but inside the squared circle his dark side seemed to thrive. Sometimes he wondered if he came across as too earnest or needy when he was trying to be a face. Maybe it was just that being a heel was so easy—and satisfying. It gave him an outlet to say everything he had thought and felt over the past few months and do it with relative impunity. His frustration with the fickle fans, his passionate defence of WWE, his bitterness over the Brock Lesnar situation: now he could spout off about it all and be justified.

If tapping into his dark side started to feel a little too good, a little too comfortable, now he had the reassurance that Becky was there to draw him back.

As long as I keep the all-black wardrobe, he thought, grinning as he spotted her waiting for him outside the men's locker room—wearing leggings, as promised. When she saw him, she hopped down off the equipment trunk and smiled, cheeks already flushed. Even though they had been together for almost a year, he could still make her flustered and he loved it. He stopped right in front of her and kissed her before she could bite her lower lip. "I just need to get my bag," he murmured against her mouth, "and then we'll go."

"Okay." Her voice shook the tiniest bit, the way it used to when they had first started dating and were trying to hide it from most of the roster. When he stepped away, he heard her breath hitch.

Becky had barely moved in the time it took him to get his bag from the locker room and say his goodbyes to the guys who were getting ready to leave. Rather than holding her hand like he usually did, Seth wrapped an arm around her waist, letting his fingertips sneak under the waistband of her leggings. "Much easier than leather pants."

"I'm pretty sure you bought me those leather pants. . . ." Becky's voice lacked some of its characteristic edge when she replied, though. Since she wasn't quite sure what to do with her free hand, she mirrored him, sliding her arm beneath his jacket.

"I did." Seth let his fingers brush against her hip, making her swear under her breath. "Pretty sure I bought you these too," he added, strumming a finger along the side of her panties.

Becky chuckled. "Maybe. I can't remem—"

"We can check." Without warning, Seth grabbed her around the waist, swung her into a recessed doorway, and kissed her, sliding her leggings down over her hips. Glancing down, he smiled. "It's the red and black pair," he reported, tugging her leggings back into place. "I got those for you in Hawaii."

Becky looked like she was torn between smacking him and shoving her leggings down so they could fuck on the spot. She settled on giving him a gentle shove and retreating to the hallway, grabbing her bag with both hands to keep herself from giving in to temptation. "We're supposed to behave on site, remember?"

Seth merely grinned. "Heels don't have to behave, remember?" He caught up to her easily, keeping his hands to himself but letting their arms touch. "But if you want to behave all the way to the hotel, that's up to you."

"It's not like the hotel is far." As soon as Becky realized how she sounded, she swore again. "You're such a bad influence."

Seth didn't reply. He didn't need to. They had finally reached the parking lot and from the way Becky could barely hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, he knew it wouldn't take much to make her rethink their policy against having sex when they were at an arena. Once they reached their rental, Seth held out his hand for her bag. "Get in. I've got it."

Becky had barely buckled herself in by the time Seth was getting in the driver's side, and she had almost regained her composure when Seth settled his right hand on her thigh. "What are you doing?"