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winedwords · 7 years ago

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Adam| Gasoline ½ | Cole

Title; Gasoline Part 1/2

Pairing; Adam Cole/reader

Words; ~3,200

Summary; You’d do just about anything to win. And you really did mean anything. Part ½

A/N: Repost from the old blog.

And being accompanied by The Most Dangerous Woman in the World, (Y/N), the challengers from Detroit, Michigan, Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, the Motor City Machine Guns!

This was it. This was the big one. Everything we had been working for was tonight.

The shot at the Ring of Honor tag team titles, currently held by Bullet Club’s Young Bucks.

Chris and Alex were overjoyed when they became the number one contenders. I had been a little bit more reserved. The Young Bucks meant Bullet Club members, at the very least Adam Cole, at ringside.

I could game plan for the Young Bucks, but having the entire Club at ringside to hold on to their last gold? That proved more challenging.

Getting Hangman Page out of the picture had been easy. Just had to say the right words to both the Hangman and Bobby Fish, two notorious hot heads, and they became embroiled in their own vicious feud. It didn’t 100% remove the Hangman from ringside, but if shit went pear shaped, I knew I could count on Bobby flying down the ramp to get involved. He’d even said as much when I had run into him at the airport as we were traveling to this show.

The two Gorillas of Destiny were thankfully called to Japan by the head of the Japanese Bullet Club, Kenny Omega. Rumor had it that there were going to be shenanigans at one of the tournaments the Club was in.

Cole was the wild card, the one I wasn’t entirely sure how to plan for. When the Machine Guns became the number one contenders, he was beside himself, trashing the Bullet Club locker room. Cole had already had a thundercloud following him after the loss of his title at Final Battle to Kyle O'Reilly. Now? He stalked around backstage like a lion with a sore paw and an even nastier disposition. The former champion had been prone to snapping at the stage hands in the back even on the best of his days, now he snarled and lashed out at everyone for the smallest of things.

Adam Cole was not a man that appreciated or would respond well to being manipulated. He was like fire; all consuming, mercurial, and passionate to the point of obsession in his pursuits. He was ruthless, reckless, charming, and cocksure and damned if that alone wasn’t catnip to me.

Even given his faults, I’d be remiss in saying he wasn’t beautiful. Tall and strong, long dark hair and too-blue eyes, with high cheekbones and a jaw line sharp enough to cut glass. Top it all off with the scruff along his jaw and a cocky smirk that made my stomach do backflips…

I shook my head, trying to get those kinds of thoughts out of my mind. The tense game of cat and mouse that had been played between myself and Adam Cole for weeks now. What had started as flirtatious smiles and winks had steadily progressed into sly games of grab ass. I wasn’t sure who was the cat and who was the mouse. I knew he was doing it to get under my skin and I was strong enough to admit it was kind of working.

This is why I had brought a couple… equalizers to ringside.

The roar of the crowd in Las Vegas made my blood sing and the brass knuckles in my jacket pockets clinked against me with every step that I took towards the ring, between Chris Sabin and Alex Shelley. The brass knuckles were only there if things went really bad, because I was counting on this ridiculously skimpy ring gear I had poured myself into to help serve as a distraction for Adam Cole. Chris had raised his brows and Alex had wolf whistled when I had met them at the gorilla because of the neckline I had cut myself into my Machine Guns shirt, the amount of midriff and tits showing, and the particularly risqué pair of hot pants. The only thing that provided even a hint of modesty was my trademark leather jacket.

The crowd had noticed too. The pop we normally got was intermixed with wolf whistles and catcalls. Both Chris and Alex chuckled under their breath as I hammed it up, winking at members of crowd and adjusting my shirt suggestively.

It was during this playful interaction with the crowd that Bullet Club’s music hit and the crowd lost it.

Being accompanied by Adam Cole, representing Bullet Club, they are the ROH Tag Team Champions of the World, Nick and Matt Jackson, the Young Bucks!

And so it begins. I turned towards the ramp, just to be met by a heated stare from Adam Cole. He was trying hard, very hard to not give a visible reaction to my appearance, but he was betrayed by the rapid clenching of his jaw and the pupils of his too-blue eyes were blown out. I schooled my face into a taunting smirk but my knees were a little weak and my stomach was filled with butterflies of anticipation.

As the three members of Bullet Club made their way to the ring, I climbed onto the apron and motioned to both Alex and Chris that there needed to be a quick team meeting.

“This is it guys. The match for the titles. I need you all to kick ass and not worry about Cole at ringside. I’ll handle him but I’m not gonna be able to do much else. Whatever happens, and I do mean whatever happens, unless I’m knocked out cold or being choked out with barbed wire, do not react to what’s going on at ringside."

Both of the men from Detroit looked like they had swallowed a lemon.

"Are you sure about this, (Y/N)? He’s a piece of shit and he won’t have any issues hurting you,” questioned Chris, his brows furrowed tight together.

“Let me worry about Cole. I promise I have him handled, just take care of business. ” That half truth sounded convincing even to me. I was 75% sure I could handle this.

Both of them still looked unconvinced but they begrudgingly nodded.

“You be careful out there, (Y/N). If shit goes bad I want you to get out of here.” Alex said as he pulled me into a quick side hug.

“Don’t worry about me. You got this. I’m gonna make this playing field as even as possible, by any means possible. ” With that, I hopped off the apron to the floor so the match could start. I looked towards the opposite corner of the ring, to be met with three pairs of eyes. The Young Bucks were staring at me with curiosity, like I was a puzzle to be figured out. Adam Cole’s face was practically thunderous and I wasn’t sure why.

I didn’t get time to ponder as the bell rung. It was gonna be Alex starting off against Matt. They circled each other once and then locked up. It was a couple moments of grappling before Alex brought his knee into Matt’s abdomen and Irish whipped the Young Buck into the corner. I slammed my hands twice into the apron and crowed my approval. Across the ring, Adam scowled and I made sure to preen and blow him an exaggerated kiss. The crowd, having caught the exchange, cheered and his scowl deepened as he began to pace in the Bucks’ corner.

This continued throughout the early moments of the match. Momentum shifted both to the Machine Guns and the Bucks, but never for very long. Adam and myself would trade flirtatious taunts whenever the momentum shifted but we stayed to our respective corners. The closest we had gotten to each other had been when Nick had landed a super kick on Chris; Adam had come to my side of the ring and had yelled at me to suck it while thrusting his hips at me. I didn’t even get a chance to respond in kind because Alex had charged in front of me after breaking up the count in the ring. Adam had backed off and moved to his corner of the ring, his hands up in mock surrender and an insufferable smirk on his face. Nigel himself was standing at the announce table in indignation. I couldn’t hear what the British man was saying over the raucous chants of “Super kick!”

It was too good to last.

The Machine Guns had finally had the momentum swing their way for more than a couple sequences. Alex and Chris had dived through the ropes from the ring onto the Bucks and Adam Cole, who were attempting to regroup at ringside. The men from Detroit pushed their opponents back into the ring and Adam decided now was the time to make a move. He’d jumped up on the ring apron and began screaming absolute filth at the referee. The ref was too distracted to see Alex pinning Nick and I took off towards Adam Cole. He must not have seen me, as I was able to get behind him, grab both ankles, and with using most of my strength, I jerked Adam from the apron to the floor. He hit his head on the apron with a crack and I froze a couple feet away from him. It wasn’t until he swung his head towards me with a glare that I shot back to my corner, with Adam hot on my heels. I had almost made it to the announce table, where I was hoping to hide behind Nigel, the Matchmaker, whom I knew was a little sweet on me.

Emphasis on the almost. I was maybe fifty feet away when I felt two arms wrap around my waist in a steel like grip and I was wrenched around. Chris Sabin saw as well and he made his way towards us from the other end of the ring, but he stopped and returned to the match at the subtle shake of my head.

Every nerve ending in my body felt like a live wire. Adam was practically wrapped around me like a turtle shell and I’ll be damned if the feel and heat of his body against mine didn’t make me wet. He picked me up and practically frog marched me away from the relative safety of the announce table to a neutral corner.

“I didn’t wanna do this sweetness. Especially with you looking like a fuckin’ wet dream,” he murmured into my ear, the iron like grip loosening around my waist as he set me down. It was enough for me to break the hold the former champion had on me and stumble backwards, to get a couple feet of distance between the two of us. I had the shake the fog from my brain that his touch caused. I needed to be aware of my surroundings both for my sanity and safety, given that both teams in the ring were prone to flying over the ropes.

“You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to, handsome. This is all in good fun.” I flicked my hair back with a wink, “fixing” my cropped shirt by pulling it down a little farther to expose more cleavage. Adam’s stare was hot as his eyes dragged from my face, to lingering on my chest, down my bare legs, and back up again.

“You just gotta name the time and place for us to have some fun bay bay. You and I could be real good together. You didn’t need to ruin it by pulling me off the apron,” His smirk was predatory as he began to take slow steps towards me. A rapid glance into the ring revealed that my Machine Guns had the upper hand yet again versus the Bucks.

Just a little bit longer.

I stood my ground and maintained eye contact, mainly because I wasn’t sure if my legs would cooperate given how they felt like jello. “I can’t let you interfere in this match Adam. Though I am very, very sorry that that face of yours hit the apron. I’d hate for something to happen to it. ” Was that really my voice sounding so husky? A glance at Adam though left me reassured that he was just as effected by our little game as me. The pupils of his too-blue eyed were almost completely blown out, leaving just a sliver of blue, and the bulge in his wrestling trunks seemed to be more pronounced than usual.

“I’m sure we can find a way for you to make it up to me, sweetness. I’ll only make you beg for my forgiveness a little.” He was now so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body and his hands skimming the sides of my hips. My skin broke out in goose flesh at the touch of his fingers and I began to panic through the pink haze that was taking over my brain.

His hands were dangerously close to feeling the brass knuckles stashed in the pockets of my leather jacket. I had to do something extreme to distract him.

“Do you promise?” I asked coyly, inching a little closer to him and making sure to tilt my head up to look at the former champion. The licking and biting of my lower lip was unintentional, but the glancing at Adam’s lips was intentional and exaggerated. Victory flashed in his eyes, accompanied by promises for much more pleasurable activities. “Oh sweetness, I would never joke about something like this.” He said as his left hand started to travel upwards, inside my jacket and up my rib cage.

Fuck it. I had to break out the big guns. I leaned in just a touch closer and let my right had begun to wander up Adam’s right arm in itsy bitsy spider motions, then across his shoulder towards his neck. Wherever my fingers went, the corresponding muscles in that area contracted and my mouth went a little dry just watched those muscles tense. I was always an arm girl. It was now or never though.

Mustering up all my courage, I grabbed Adam Cole by the base of the neck and pulled him towards me. Then it was just a little flex onto my toes and our mouths met. I only heard the roar of the crowd for but a moment before it was drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears. The warring sensations of both the scratch of his facial hair and the softness of his mouth felt like a sensory overload. Just the touch of our mouths together felt like a lightening bolt straight to every erogenous zone and suddenly every article of clothing I was wearing felt entirely too constricting.

A microsecond later, Adam’s arms dropped low, to the swell of my ass, tugging me a little bit closer to deepen the kiss. I wound my left arm over his shoulders to tangle in his hair. The kiss didn’t stay chaste for more than a couple moments.

Say what you will about Adam as a person, but fuck, the man could kiss. Just enough tongue to make me tremble and teeth to make me whimper. The first time he caught a whimper over the din of the crowd, I could practically feel his self-congratulating smirk and the proverbial puffing of his chest. Feeling a little spiteful, I grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged. The ensuing moan I got from his lips was absolute filth and Adam pressed even closer to me. It took almost everything in me to not drag him to the back when I felt the growing hardness in his trunks. I had to shake the heated fog from my brain, I had to make sure that the Machine Guns won this.

I cracked an eye open, mouth still feverishly attached to Adam’s, and surveyed the ring as discreetly as possible. Alex and Chris has taken my advice and ignored what was happening at ringside; Nick Jackson appeared to be knocked out cold and Alex and Chris were setting up Matt for the Made in Detroit - a vicious sit out powerbomb facelock combination from the top rope. I glanced back at Adam, eyes screwed shut, and knew I had to make my move and soon.

I gave him one last nibble of his lower lip and a brush of my tongue against his in apology for what was to come, before I pulled back just enough so there was a fraction of space between us. I thought I even heard Adam whine at the back of his throat as I pulled away.

“Sorry ‘bout this handsome.”

He didn’t have time to react before I brought my knee up hard into his groin. The air in his lungs rushed out of his body and the mostly male crowd “oooh’d” in sympathy. Adam was doubled over in pain, his hands moving to guard his groin. My hands shot to my pockets to try to get the knuckles on. Based off of the fading pain and growing rage on Adam’s contorted face, I only had a couple of seconds before he recovered enough to retaliate.

I fumbled too long for my comfort with the knuckles, pulling the right one out of my pocket and finally sliding it onto my hand.

“Again, I’m real sorry handsome, I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be sweet-”

He couldn’t get the endearment off of his tongue before I hit him with a brassknuckled right hook. Cole’s body went limp as the referee got to 3 in his count. The crowd went wild.

The Motor City Machine Guns did it. They were tag team champions.

I wish I could say that I was happy on that moment, but it felt like my body temperature had dropped below freezing and every endorphin has just rushed out of my body all at once. It took everything in me to slide into the ring to celebrate with Alex and Chris, my body shaking as I pulled myself up to my feet. I like to think that even in the glory of the win, both Alex and Chris could sense something was wrong, as I was rapidly pulled into a sweaty group hug.

“We’re gonna talk about it later, (y/n).” Chris murmured as he pressed his lips into my hairline.

“Guys I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I need to get out of here. ” I whispered shakily, my right hook was good even without brass knuckles, but Adam was tough son of a bitch and he would be up any minute now. Alex’s arms squeezed around my shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s get out of here doll."

With Shelley’s arm over my shoulder and Sabin’s arm around my waist, we made our way out of the ring. I felt like I was in a fog and I didn’t even see who held the second rope for me to hop out to the floor. Our entire way from the ring, the Machine Guns flanked me on either side, an arm from each supporting my shaky legs and I up the ram.

"This isn’t over, (y/n)! Not by a fucking long shot!"

The bellowing from the ring was enough to make the three of us turn. Adam was in the ring, flanked by the battered Young Bucks, his jaw already turning colors. Even from the top of the ramp, I could see the nuclear heat in his eyes practically searing into me as he was leaning against the ringpost and turnbuckle. Alex began to tug me towards the curtain, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away, even if my feet were begrudgingly cooperating. Adam’s final words were echoing into my ears as we moved behind the curtain.

"You can’t run from me, (y/n)!"

#adam cole imagine #adam cole fic #adam cole smut #repost from the old blog

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