#(nothing against breakdancing i am sure it will also be very cool to watch) (and also i imagine takes a lot of athleticism)

[michaelgovehateblog]

Actually while I'm talking about sports, I can't believe that things like breakdancing and whatever flag football is are going to be in upcoming Olympics but not cheer

[concussed-to-pieces]

Quiet; Prologue

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Happy Thirst Party Saturday, everyone! Been working on this prologue for a little bit. Tagging our usual suspects, @tox-moxley, @oraclegazes, @hardcorewwetrash and @writergrrrl29. Enjoy!

Baron figured he would never find his mate. He was getting up there in years, after all. Most of the other wolves he knew were mated up by their early twenties and yet here he was still alone. Lone Wolf Baron Corbin, in more ways than one.

But then, oh, but then. He woke up one morning with a strange taste in his mouth. Sometimes around the full moon he would grind his teeth in his sleep, but this was a different taste. He wondered if he needed to start wearing one of those mouth guards while he slept. Huh. There was a commotion outside the door to his room, that was probably what had roused him. He could already smell Corey (he seemed to bathe in cologne) and...BlissBayley, never alone.

He pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on. His hearing wasn’t the best. Too many concerts.

“I’m so glad you’re becoming one of the team! How cool is that, ‘Lexa?”

“What’s your name, cutie? Who are you rooming with?”

The voice that must have answered Bliss’ question was too quiet for Baron to hear. A strange smell tugged his attention. It was faint, like it was blocked. New person smell. But…captivating. Baron suddenly realized he was drooling and quickly wiped his mouth off on his shirt. What the hell? He took a step back from the door and the smell faded, filling him with a sense of relief. Then, his chest started aching. Well that was weird.

...

You were so small, and you had the too-tense look of someone who knew they were small. Being friends with tiny fae Bliss had taught Baron a few things about short people (mainly, that they’ll kick you Daniel Bryan-style in the shins if you say anything about it). He was…he knew how large he was, and how threatening he could seem with his deep voice and dark eyes. What big teeth you have…

Baron shook his head, returning to his pushups after his momentary break. Get them out of your head, man.

Being who he was, what he was, always made things more difficult for Baron out on the road. There weren’t many safe spots for him to either shift or sweat it out, and now for whatever damn reason he felt an intense urge to keep you close. He chalked it up to being lonely. You weren’t hard on the eyes by any means and he had been solitary for quite a while. Also you seemed like you could use a little protecting and he was a goddamn sucker for that.

Baron wasn’t sure what was wrong with him when he woke up on a full moon night, seemingly for no reason. He slid back down in his bed, a bit startled at being awake and quietly luxuriating in the sounds of the night that he could finally hear again, even through the hotel walls. Full moon was good for something every once in a while.

Then, there was a soft noise from the room adjacent to his own. His ears pricked up of their own accord; that was your room. Carmella had gone out for the evening, maybe she’d returned? There was another sound and then that smell again, wrapping around his senses like a velvet glove. Baron bit his lip, his body a suddenly-confused mess of scent reactions and anxious energy. He got up and got a glass of water, running a hand through his hair. What’s wrong with me? Am I broken somehow? He wondered, not without a touch of fear. Broken meant he wouldn’t be able to succeed. Broken meant he could kiss this dream goodbye, even after essentially reshaping his body from the ground up.

Baron shook his head at himself. Damn quick to panic, Jesus. The sound was a little louder this time. It was a gentle sort of whimper, but it made Baron’s stomach drop out. What…? Your scent hit him full force and he choked on his next swallow of water as a surge of intense longing caught him off guard. Baron felt like every bone in his body ached, like his heart was being split in two and without meaning to he opened his mouth. His responding whine was low and long, a searching noise. Where are you, where are you? Baron’s eyes widened as the gravity of the situation hit him. Uh oh.

You?! Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t attractive to him, to say the least. But…you were scared of him! You hadn’t made eye contact yet, for fuck’s sake, always ducking your head if he so much as glanced your way. It…was this a joke? Was the universe really that hell bent on fucking with him that it would give him his mate, someone who was supposed to be his life, and make it so that they were terrified of him?

Baron sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. Fuck. Bliss and Bayley would have answers. He would talk to them. Keep the panic at bay. There was no need to lose it just yet. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe there was something wrong with him. He picked up his phone.

-Need to talk, Alexa. Or Bayley. Please.

Barely two minutes went by before there was a knock on the door to his room. Baron padded to the door and opened it, pausing and raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t Alexa, nor was it Bayley. It was Carmella, standing there with her hands on her hips. “Carm?” He asked cautiously. “Something wrong?”

“You tell me, sugarcube. My roomie was in a fuckin’ tizzy, said they heard a noise from ya’ room like ya’ in pain.” Carmella looked suspicious, standing on her tiptoes to see over Corbin’s shoulder. “Ya’ got someone else in there or what?”

“N-No, I uh. I got up to get a drink and tripped in the dark.” Baron’s panic increased tenfold. You had heard his fucking pitiful noise, his where are you noise. “Kind of a klutz, Carm. All legs, y’know.” He forced a chuckle.

Carmella didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, pursing her lips and fixing Corbin with a stern glare. “If I find out ya’ been sneakin’ chicks in here…” Baron couldn’t help the snicker that escaped and after a second Carmella joined in. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I’m used to ‘Zo, y’know how it is.” She apologized, patting his arm.

Baron nodded. “I’m not like that, Carm. I’ve got nothing to prove in that department.” He said, leaning easily against the doorframe. “I’ve gotten no complaints.”

“Ya’ have to actually hook up with someone ta’ get complaints, Corbs.” Carmella teased.

“You figured out my master plan! Cass always said you were smart.” Baron rumpled her hair carefully, fully aware that it was a dangerous game to mess with the hair of the Staten Island princess. She swatted his fingers away with an annoyed noise as Alexa made her usual sound to alert him of her presence, like a tiny bell chiming high enough that only he could hear it. “Alright, yeah. Let them know I'm okay, Carm. Just hit my shin on the coffee table. Sorry if I woke them or anything.”

Alexa was behind the door when he closed it, but Baron was so used to her cropping up wherever she wanted that he couldn't even muster up a flinch. She looked tired yet still somehow managed to shimmer just the tiniest bit, fluffing her hair out over her shoulders as Baron slid the deadbolt. “What's up, Big Bad? Dragged me out of a nice warm bed with the wife for this so it had better be important.”

...

Baron knew the stories. He had heard them from some of the other weres; Alexa and Bayley had read him some things. What people like him did to people like you, how he could prevent losing his mind over this shit. You were scared of him, damn it, and not much could be done about that except what he was already doing. It was exasperating.

Roman in particular had been raised very strict and always seemed to have a helpful tip to calm shit down when it started swirling. The constant ebb and flow of alpha posturing could get a little exhausting, especially since most of the time it came from people who weren’t what Baron was.

Also he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong in a past life to gain the friendship of the walking nuclear explosion of energy that was Mojo Rawley. Zack Ryder was decent, polite and on the quieter side. Mojo was everything but. The definition of “life of the party”, Baron couldn’t count how many times he’d turned down offers to teach him how to breakdance. Since Ryder usually roomed with his girlfriend and Baron was…well, solitary, Mojo ended up more or less Corbin’s permanent room partner. Which could have gone much worse than it did, honestly.

Sometimes he wondered if Mojo knew. The Hype train rarely slowed and never came to a stop, but occasionally Mojo seemed to have oddly precise insight. “Full moon tonight, Big Banter, can’t wait to watch you go on the hunt!” It might have made Baron uneasy if he’d ever displayed any other signs of lucidity. He chalked it up to Mojo just going along with his gimmick.

The taste he woke up with in his mouth every morning had become commonplace. The urge to have you close was kept at bay with the morning group workout sessions. You were in the same room as him and apparently that was enough for Baron to retain his sanity (if only just). His turns were the hardest part to deal with; they had never been all that regular to begin with and now for some reason they were even more off-kilter than ever before.

He could hazard a guess why. The critter tended to roam a little close to the surface. He hadn’t noticed how close until he almost bumblefucked his way through Cass like a hot knife through butter, scaring the shit out of not only Carmella but also himself. He hadn’t been this out of control since he was a teenager and it was terrifying. Colin and Enzo had laughed it off but Corbin felt awful, he could have seriously hurt the larger man.

Bliss had threatened to have Bayley Hugplex him to within an inch of his life if he didn’t get his shit together, and Corbin knew he definitely would have deserved it. He just didn’t know how to go about this without turning into someone even worse than he already was.

Wonder of all wonders, an opportunity was practically gift-wrapped and delivered to him in the hands of Big Cass and Zack Ryder. First, Ryder offered to switch places with him during the next hotel stay, something about Emma not being with him. Ryder had been staying with Cass, who then asked Baron if he would switch with Carmella. “You know how it is, man. If she can be here, she wants to be here.” Colin had rolled his eyes, but Baron saw right through him. He had agreed with little thought, overly used to working around his fellow superstars who actually had boyfriends, girlfriends, and significant others.

It hit him as he was tucking his clothes into his backpack and Baron slowed to a halt, one of his shirts falling out of his hands. Carm usually rooms with...oh. Oh no. It was too late for him to take it back, Carmella was already on her way over. Shit, shit!

She looked smug when she arrived. Too smug. Like she was in on a secret that Baron didn't know about. He wondered fleetingly if you were interested in him too, if this was an elaborate scheme to get you and him together. “Be nice to them.” She said sternly as he slung his pack over his shoulder. “Don't scare 'em, got it? I'll kick ya' ass if ya' do.”

“Why does everyone think I'm so fucking scary?” Corbin grumbled, feeling a little peeved. First Alexa and Bayley, now even Carm was ganging up on him. Christ.

She was having none of his attitude though and Colin chuckled when she caught Baron by that pesky lock of hair that wasn't quite long enough to get wrapped up in his bun. Corbin yelped, halting. “Because ya' a king-size professional wrestler, slash former football player, who looks like he has the brain to match. They're also kinda' quiet. Shy. So play nice. I know ya' smart, big guy. Be smart now, or ya' gonna' be in trouble.” Carmella warned, finally releasing his hair and handing him the keycard to her room.

Baron resisted the urge to slam the door behind him, irritated beyond belief. Didn't anyone understand how difficult this was for him?! You were his mate and he hadn't even so much as touched you, fuck, made legitimate eye contact with you. He had an inkling of how those overly-territorial psycho weres everyone whispered about came into being and the thought made him shudder and suck in a few calming breaths. No way in hell was he going to do anything that would lump him in with the likes of those fucks.

You looked even smaller alone in a hotel hallway at one in the morning. Baron fought a wince when your eyes landed on his boots and then widened. He could smell the panic coming off you in waves and it made his skin crawl. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Your distress threatened to send him into a tailspin of his own and he slowed down, doing his deep breathing and trying, trying so damn hard to just be calm and collected and not nervous, I'm not nervous.

“Oh.” You said softly when Baron finally managed to get his legs to function properly again. Your eyes traveled up his chest, up, up, up and oh-!

Baron was transfixed, certain he must look like an idiot. His jaw had probably gone slack. Was he drooling again? Fuck it. You were his, you were his, oh God, it was you--

“Room with you?” He realized he was speaking, mouth forming words his brain wasn't awake for. “Thank fuck.” Oh God no, he was trying to be smooth. Somebody kill him, stop it stop it!

You were apologizing as he fumbled with the door, Baron wasn't entirely sure for what. His hands were shaking so hard, Jesus Christ. Is it hot in here? The pet name slipped out unintentionally. You had been 'little one' to him for such a long time in his head, it just seemed natural that he call you that. You didn't seem to mind and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.

“I-I'll be quiet, I promise.”

Your stutter made Baron's heart thud painfully in his chest and he had to clear his throat before he could attempt to smile, try to give an answer that would drown out the chants in his brain of I ruined everything, I ruined everything.

Baron couldn't sleep. Not surprising. Trying to get comfortable on the small bed plagued him until the wee hours of the morning, while half-dreams full of you in said small bed saying his name in your sweet little voice ran rampant. He had heard your voice, finally. You had made eye contact with him. It should have been enough, damn it, it should have.

It was a struggle to wait until you woke up and slipped out of the room in the morning, your movements almost totally silent like you were trying not to wake him up. Baron knew someday he would appreciate your consideration, but today he could barely hold out until you were gone before he lunged for your bed, grabbed your pillow and buried his face in it. He knew he had to work fast. He didn't know when you would be back and his body was a frothing mess, his cock stiff just from your scent.

Baron retreated to his own bed, your pillow in tow.  The ache in his chest felt like it was multiplying, his body in such a state of longing it bordered on physical pain. He couldn't bite back the whine that bubbled in his throat as he crushed your pillow to his chest. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been this desperate and out of sorts, couldn't remember what his own scent was as yours took over. Fuck. It was over almost before it began. He'd barely gotten his hand into his sleeping pants and then he was coming, his hips shuddering and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Fuck.

Baron panted for breath, startled that he'd come that fast. Jesus, he was fucked something fierce. He staggered back up, hastily replacing your pillow and then going to the bathroom to wash his hands. He splashed some water on his face and braced himself on the sink, still breathing a little heavier than he would like. I’m okay. I’m okay. It's not a problem yet. Yeah, right. Maybe someday he’d believe it.

Something was pinching the skin of his palm. Baron looked down, confused. It was your room key pressing into his hand, probably dropped while you were getting ready to leave. Oh. The relief that he felt was almost enough to make him laugh, even while a territorial rush flooded him. This room was his den now, and he would welcome you back to it as best as he could. God, more than anything he wished for a nice nest of sheets and soft blankets to surprise you with.

Baron Corbin was the last person who would call himself, ‘smooth’. He knew he was woefully out of touch as far as relationships went, shit, as far as flirting went. He had no idea what he was doing. So he sat on his bed, twiddled his thumbs. Waited nervously for your return.

He could smell the food before you even reached the door. He could smell the sleep still on you in the  yawns you tried to stifle in the hall. You'd obviously slept about as well as he did. Baron ached to fix that. But he reined himself in, opened the door before you knocked (only a little creepy, great job) and a goddamn miracle happened. The scent of interested caught him completely by surprise. It was brief. Baron almost believed that he imagined it but then your face pinked up. Oh?

Being near you during your morning workout was a huge mistake. You made these little determined noises of exertion that had Baron's mind running rampant, his body screaming its approval inside his head. He ended up having to crank his music way louder than normal, doing his damnedest to get through his workout before he did something stupid. He really, really wanted to hold you. And also maybe slam your back against the wall, grind his hips into yours until you came just from the friction, then he would slide down, peel your workout shorts off and eat you out until you begged him to--

Christ!Baron snorted in disbelief at himself. You had offered to push the beds together so he would actually fit, and he'd given his goddamn word that he wouldn't touch you. You had brought the pack food this morning. He wished you were his with all his fucking heart but he wasn't going to force it. When you felt safe. When you were ready. He was plenty strong enough to endure this.

He had to be.

The sheets were almost Baron's undoing. His throat threatened to close up as he realized you had made a nest, a den of soft things for he and you to sleep in. He doubted you understood the gravity of your kind gesture to someone like him.

You slept like a rock, obviously over your new-person fear as you were this close to crowding his side of the bed when Baron drifted off. His dreams were less fitful than the previous night, probably calmed by the closer proximity of your presence. He could tell that you were looking at him even before he opened his eyes in the morning, his skin feeling twitchy. It was the tattoos, of course it was the tattoos. The way you asked to come along when he got his next one made him want to hope and Baron was barely able to keep his voice steady when he answered.

The breakfast run was the perfect method to escape and he took it, rubbing a hand over his face while the elevator descended. I didn’t think you would warm up to me like this. It was okay to admit it to himself, right? Fuck, what do you even like for breakfast? You had a muffin yesterday. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The elevator doors pinged open and Baron straightened up. Jason and Chad were the only two actually getting breakfast at this early hour, both young men waving at Baron as he headed for the muffin plate. Abruptly (and Baron thanked God for his sensitive nose because otherwise he would have been caught completely unawares) Mojo was on his back, whooping when Corbin barely moved.

“It’s big breakfast time for Big Banter, whoo!”

Gable, the goddamn traitor, was laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair, while Jason just looked amused. Corey (who eschewed elevators, something about having perfectly good legs) strolled in from the lobby with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Morning, cupcake!” He said cheerily to Baron, who just grunted in reply and carried on his task of loading up more food, albeit a bit slower now with Mojo clinging to his back. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d had to haul the Hype Train around. Corey elbowed Corbin in his ribs. “So? How’d it go last night?” He stage-whispered.

Baron raised an eyebrow at the other tattooed man. “Excuse me, Graves?”

“Oh don’t play fuckin’ coy with me, man. Are they into you or what? I know you’ve been fucking mooning over them.” Corey was apparently much more observant than he let on. Either that or Baron was really bad at hiding his feelings.

Probably the last one.

“Dammit Graves, you can’t just ask me that shit.” Baron grumbled. “I don’t know if they’re into me, okay? I’m a huge, scary, weird…I just don’t think I’m their type.” I’m a fucking werewolf, Corey, not something you shack up with fucking lightly!

“But you’re bringing them breakfast! That’s pretty hype.” Baron had forgotten Mojo was still gripping his spine like the world’s strangest backpack. Mojo continued, “If I dig someone, I am all about that bed breakfast stuff. Also I don’t sleep, so every meal is breakfast to me!”

“Mojo can you maybe let me go, kinda’ got shit to do.” Baron didn’t really have time for a fucking seminar from Captain Concussion and Hype Bro Number Two, barely managing to weasel his way out of Mojo’s grip without dropping his plate. “If you guys will excuse me.”

Corey, the fucking juvenile that he was, started making kissy noises at him (to Baron’s complete chagrin). Corbin stormed back to the elevator, grumbling swears under his breath for the duration of the ride up to your floor. He hated the dumb flush that had stained his face. He hated how easy it was to wind him up when it came to you. It wasn’t fair for fuck’s sake, why did he have to be so fucking scary?

All his irritation was forgotten when you welcomed him back to the room. You’d made the beds while he was gone and you smelled like happy, bouncing in place when you realized he’d picked up your favorite kind of muffin (entirely by accident, but Baron would take the victory). Watching you eat soothed the ache in his chest a bit. At least he could do this right, provide for the pack. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself from here on out and maybe…Jesus, maybe you would love him.

He felt like such a piece of crap, hanging onto every little scent signal or nervous gesture. He didn’t know what else he could do though, nothing was enough for his insides to stop fucking screaming.

“You should just tell them.” Bayley, ever the optimist, spoke as she cinched her hair down tight enough to give Baron phantom pains in his scalp. She didn’t shimmer quite like Alexa, she was more like a…radiator. Putting out waves. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Christ, do I even need to say it?” He didn’t mean to snap but shit, if it was that easy he wouldn’t need help! The fact that he’d been able to snap even while near her, was enough to make Bayley fix him with a stern look.

“Baron, do you need me to…?” She put her hand on his arm just for a second. “Let me take some of it, okay? Stay still.”

“No, Bayley. This is my goddamn mess to deal with.” He said grimly, sliding out from beneath her fingers. “I need someone to talk to, okay? Not necessarily magically fix what I’m dealing with. My heart and my brain playing tug-of-war is probably something I should learn how to handle.”

Bayley nodded in understanding, patting the bar on the weight bench. “Spot me and you can talk to your heart’s content. I’m all ears.”

Corbin did feel a little better after essentially blowing through his word allowance for the damn year, his voice somewhat hoarse when Bayley finally finished her workout and sat down to take a swig of water.

“They offered to push the beds together so you’d be more comfortable. So obviously, there’s no fear. Or at least, little enough that they can work through it and your keen nose doesn’t pick up on it.” She mused. “They got you breakfast, and they liked when you returned the favor. They want to come with you when you get another tattoo. I don’t know, big guy. I feel like you have this all wrapped up and you’re worried about nothing.”

“I’m just so scared I’m going to fuck it up, Bayley.” Baron confessed. “I’m so huge and…shit, my heart hurts so damn much when I think about what I could do, how fucked up I could get. We’ve all heard the stories, y’know?” Corbin felt a headache coming on and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. “I promised not to touch them when we're in bed together but all I wanna’ do is hold them.” He mumbled through his fingers.

“So do it. Instigate some contact, doesn't have to be in the bed. They wouldn’t still be in that room if they felt unsafe.” Bayley pointed out. “I can’t help explain away your need for tactile stimulation, Baron. I can’t take it away either. That’s something that’s built into you. All I can do is calm down the frenzy every once in a while.”

Baron nodded, even though the motion felt like a prison cell door slamming shut. “I know. I…thanks for listening.”

“Hey, anytime.” Bayley squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “We have to stick together, after all. 'Lexa and I want you happy, got it?”

…

He had promised to keep his hands to himself. That was the one thing he could do. He wanted to fucking touch you all over, rub your shoulders after your grueling training or stroke your hair when you tucked in for the night. But he promised, fuck he had promised. You made noises in your sleep sometimes, like you were having bad dreams. It was the hardest thing in the world for him to stay still when your hands wandered, and one time you had a different kind of dream.

It started with the whimpering, like all your other dreams. Baron rolled over to face the wall, his palms suddenly sweaty. He was absolute shit at dealing with this, having to practically lay there with his arms folded so he didn't touch you. He froze when your fingers grazed his shirt, choked as a soft little moan issued from your throat. Oh no. He felt like he was on fire, the scent of your arousal lighting his nerves up. Your fingers were back, clumsily dragging down his spine before you dug them into the sheets. Another whimper and Baron was so close to shattering his own ribs with how hard he was hugging himself.

I'm stronger than this. I'm not some weak, piece of crap alpha. I'm okay. I'm fine.

Baron inhaled deeply in a valiant attempt to keep himself under control but all it did was fill his senses with you, you, squirming on the bed beside him and Jesus Christ he was only human, damn it, damn it-

He flopped onto his back, half-hoping he would wake you up with the motion. But all you did was mold your body to his side and make a pleased humming noise. Despite the air conditioner and fan running in the room you were warm, your skin hot where it touched his. Baron flexed his hands, desperately grabbing the sheets to keep from touching you. Oh God, is that...?

Your groin pressed to his thigh and Baron found himself biting down on his fist to stay quiet. His body was in total chaos, man at war with wolf as one half of him screamed I promised! and the other half shouted back mate wants me!

The only good thing was that whatever you had been dreaming about seemed to have faded away. Your smell relaxed into good and sleep and Baron began the slow, careful task of untangling you from his body. It would help no one if you woke up now, especially with the raging hard-on he was sporting.

He finally escaped to the bathroom, bracing one hand against the wall beside the mirror as he wrangled his sleeping shorts down around his thighs and held his shirt up out of the way with his teeth. Quickly jerking off seemed to be a way of life for him these days. It was nicer to visualize you helping him out though, the idea of you on your knees for him too pretty to pass up thinking about.

“C-come for me, alpha?”

Baron was grateful for the shirt in his mouth to stifle his groan. He couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about imagining you doing things to him. It was the only solace he had, damn it.

“Please, Baron, I-I need you.”

If you ever wore anything like the little skirts he pictured you in, he was pretty sure he would outright die. Kneeling in front of him, pressing your tits together in invitation. Maybe wearing one of his shirts. Or a skirt and nothing else. Baron felt like a damn bitch in heat, panting through his teeth as he stroked his cock to the idea of mating you one day, of finally claiming you when you actually wanted him. Your hands on him, touching him, owning him, your mouth...

Corbin came with a muffled growl.

That lonely ache flared back up in his chest while he cleaned himself off, cold washcloth doing little to soothe down the feverish heat of his skin. He wanted to howl more than anything in the world. Get the damn sad out of his rib cage before it ate him alive. Baron had never been good at handling feelings, too volatile with his hot temper and hard fists. He usually just ignored everything, balled it up inside, worked himself into a lather at the gym or in the ring until he couldn't export the pain quick enough and everything exploded.

He'd also never had someone like you at stake.

When he finally shuffled back to the bed, he almost laid on top of you accidentally. You had rolled to his side of the bed and wrapped yourself in the blankets, snoring away peacefully without a care in the world. Baron sighed, climbing over you and tucking the flat sheet around his legs. He ran pretty warm anyways.

He didn't expect to wake up with your head on his chest. Baron fucking panicked, apologizing left and right then fleeing as fast as he could. Mojo was more than willing to bring him along to the gym for a morning sweat and it was there that Baron stayed for most of the day, going rounds with the bag, lifting weights, deep-breathing his way through push-ups and muscle spasms. In the back of his mind he knew he was just fucking himself over, wrecking his body before his match tonight. But Baron couldn't have cared less if he tried. He deserved to lose, deserved whatever pain he inflicted on himself because he broke his promise. Shit, he clusterfucked that promise to high hell. You probably hated him, probably never wanted to see him again.

...

He didn't mean to be so pissed off after his match. He knew he was going to lose so he was just being childish, inches away from throwing shit and pitching the mother of all tantrums and then...

You pulled him close, your head resting on his chest. Baron finally gave in to the urge of smelling your hair, feeling the shiver than ran through your body when he did. “I promised I wouldn't touch you.” He breathed, almost convincing himself to pull away. Almost. “Can't even do that right. And now I'm getting all this grubby ring shit on you. Not fair to you, little one.” He hurt all over. Rhyno hadn't exactly been gentle with him and Baron knew he deserved every bruise that plagued his body.

Your fingers gripped his ribs tighter and he instantly surrendered. He wondered wildly if the lack of fear in your scent was a sign. You weren't scared or excited, just radiating comfort at a rate that put Bayley to shame. You were in full-blown soothing mode and it was like being wrapped in the warmest blanket on a cold night, covering his skin with a tingling sensation.

He was so fucked. If he didn't get away now, he wasn't sure what he might do to you. All those stories came rushing to the front of his mind, all the cautionary 'too much of a good thing' tales that ended in mates being trapped or worse, fucking killed because some weak werewolf couldn't handle that they were still people. Baron didn't want to be one of them. He hoped he couldn't be one of them. But the way he felt around you was unlike anything else. He was completely lost.

You were speaking again, your voice so soft. The order to shower was a surprise, as was the offer of a back rub. And Baron, the pitiful son of a bitch, jumped at it. Maybe your hands all over his back would be enough to stave off that painful ache in his chest, enough to make his skin stop crawling with worry. He forced his mind blank during the shower, just doing his deep breathing while the hot water undid some of the tension in his shoulders.

I am calm. I am in control.

His control went out the window the second your thumbs dug into the base of his neck. Baron felt his cock start to harden and he couldn't bite back his groan, burying his face in his arm. He could do this. He was strong. So were you, if your hands were anything to go by. Jesus Christ, he wasn't sure if he was going to last until the end of this back rub. The shifting onto his back at the end hadn't been intentional. Baron already felt vulnerable enough for fuck's sake and now his body was betraying him, exposing his belly to you like he was a fucking pup. But...

But you were interested, your smell intoxicating to him. You were interested and excited and even when he put his hands all over you, moved you, asked you questions, you weren't scared. Baron got the feeling that he may not be in as much trouble as he had thought originally. Your body welcomed his touches; when he slid his fingers into you your slick trickled down his arm. Obviously you had been waiting for this and that sent a hot wave of satisfaction through Baron's body. Waiting for him. You liked being praised and it was a damn good thing, because he had nothing but praise for you.

You had already come once, leaving a wet stain on the front of his boxers. Baron snarled into your ear as you rolled back against him, begging for him in a voice that was a thousand times sweeter than anything he could have imagined. He realized that the taste he'd been waking up with in his mouth was you. His brain felt thick and foggy at that, the fucking joy in his chest threatening to cut off his breath. You were his, you were his, wonderful, thoughtful mate. It was almost too much.

“Anytime you say stop, I'll stop.” This was one promise he refused to break. He wouldn't be the beginning of another horror story if he could help it. You could be as willing as you wanted, but the out always needed to be there. He knew he was...a lot to handle, and if you didn't feel safe refusing him no matter what then he had fucked up from the start.

The few and far between older werewolves that Baron had met in this line of work were usually all too happy to share the knowledge of their own experiences. For some damn reason this included mating. At least there, the answer was always the same.

“You'll know when you find them because it won't feel like anything else you've done. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Baron had been pretty sure that it was all horseshit. Regardless of who it was, the motions were the same. He'd only fucked a few people in his lifetime, honestly disinterested in the whole thing before he'd met you. It was so much damn work for someone he had no emotional connection with, and not only that but someone he knew he would have no emotional connection with.

Mounting you for the first time shattered every perception he had when it came to sex. Baron felt like his whole body was suddenly awake, like he'd just been sleepwalking through life until this second. “You'll know when you find them.”

Jesus, they were right.

You responded in an incredibly positive manner, whimpering and fucking back against him like you were the one who had been waiting for him. In a way, you might have been. Your body was so fucking hot, so wet and ready, a chorus of good and want and mate. Baron felt your walls shudder down onto his cock and he wanted to go to pieces when you begged, “More.” Your hand held his own, his fingers cradling your stomach carefully, so carefully.

The only problem Baron was having at this point was his stupid fucking brain screaming at him, this doesn't mean they'll stay! Which was true, this wasn't a relationship by a far cry. This was a mindless rut, this was him losing his self-control and mating you because you were willing. But holy shit were you willing, the way you fucking cried his name when you came almost making him howl his approval. He barely bit back the noise in time and thank God, imagine trying to explain that shit.

Baron wanted to dig his teeth into your shoulder, wanted to mark and claim you as his own in a visible area. His fingers cupped your stomach again and he got the insane visual of your belly swollen with his pups, claim! He almost choked on his next breath. Shit, Baron didn't even know if he wanted kids, but the wolf in him only knew one end to a mounting and it made him moan with a need that wasn't entirely his own.

Would that make you stay?

That was dangerous, Baron hated himself for even being capable of thinking such. He would never do that to you, that was fucking medieval shit. He was more than the needy, affection-starved wolf for fuck's sake. “I won't, but I want to. Maybe I'd get to keep you then. See you like this more.” His words were hard to get out, his jaw all but locked with the effort of not biting. He was better than that, God fucking damn it.

Your soft permission was what did him in. “You have me. As long as you want. You don't have to leave me if you don't want to.”

Oh fuck-! Corbin barely managed to pull out in time, his whole body shuddering as he realized how close he had been to...

No, no, it's alright. You're safe. I'll be more careful next time. Jesus.

He abruptly felt weak, slumping onto his side and pulling you to him for a long kiss. Fucking from behind had its benefits but it made kissing incredibly difficult, and if there was one thing Baron loved it was kissing. Kissing you. Hopefully a lot. “Let me just go get something to clean you up with. I kinda' made a mess.”

You caught that pesky stray curl of hair and Baron went along with your grip, a pleased shudder running through him. “It's okay. I enjoyed every second of it.” Your stammer was barely there, nothing but a little hiccup at the end of the sentence.

Baron was pretty sure he must look like a fucking idiot, probably still all red from exertion and hazy from coming harder than he had in years, but he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He brushed his nose against yours in an almost-kiss, your smell still wrapping him in comfort. Mate. Good.

Mine?

“Really?”

“Really.”

Baron knew he was red now, unable to do anything about the pleased flush that pinked his face. His legs felt like he may have overdone it a little bit, never mind the rest of his body, but you weren't going to sleep all sticky. He could offer that much help, at least.

“You really like that wolf stuff, hmm?” You murmured as you tucked yourself into his chest, your fingers back to tracing his tattoos.

You could say that, little one.

Part One