Fandom: All Elite Wrestling
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Kenny Omega/Fuego Del Sol
Additional Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent, Anal Sex, Abuse Of Authority
Summary: As an EVP, Kenny has the final say if Fuego's good to wrestle after a botched piledriver.
Original Date Of Publication: July 28, 2023
Notes: An AEW Kinkmeme prompt fill.
"How's that feel?"
"Fuck--!"
Fuego's voice splinters off into a whine at the end. This isn't what he thought he'd be doing today, when he was directed to check with Kenny for clearance. All he did was pull a muscle in his neck, and now he's got the Best Bout Machine balls-deep in his ass, and one leg pushed up to his shoulder. He's about to have another pulled muscle in his thigh from the stretch.
"You gotta talk to me, I can't let you in a ring if you're not in fighting shape."
There's just the barest rough edge to Kenny's voice. Like it's nothing. Like it's just paperwork to pound a wrestler into the floor of the EVPs' dressing room. He holds himself up with one hand, the other digging into the meat of Fuego's thigh, testing the straining muscle. His thumb presses a bruise, and Fuego grits his teeth against the dull pain.
"You-- you're doing that on purpose! Come on!"
Kenny smiles. Pushes harder. leans in closer.
"Of course I am, I have to test your injuries."
"My leg ain't even injured!" Fuego spits, trying to squirm away. "Lance dropped me on my neck!"
"Oh, really? My bad."
Kenny drops his leg. He gets a moment to rest and breathe, finally. Just a moment. Kenny picks him up and deposits him, on the couch in a roll-up, and this position is a problem for two reasons now. First, his weight is almost entirely on his shoulders and neck, where he's still so sore. Second, the angle drives the head of Kenny's dick straight into his prostate, and it's suddenly a lot harder to think. He's fucked around as much as anybody else on the indies. Got a few rides and motel rooms that way, too. But it's been a while, and there's a big difference between a quick round on a cheap mattress, and being methodically picked apart and tested by one of the heads of the company. Kenny's still asking questions (he thinks) while fucking him upside down. Fuego can barely get a whole word out.
"Still doin' okay down there?"
'Okay' isn't one of the words he'd use, with both legs over Kenny's shoulders and his own dick hanging over his face. Dripping into his open mouth with every thrust. There aren't a lot of words left in his head, to be fair. Just various combinations of 'fuck' and 'oh my god' and unintelligible grunting.
"Sounds like you're in good shape," Kenny pants, finally showing some kind of exertion. He wraps a hand around Fuego's cock and jerks him off quick, pulling a high keen from his chest.
"Fuck-- fuck, please--!"
"I got you. Go on and come for me."
With a couple more strokes, he does. He paints his own damn face in thick white stripes, and Kenny follows just a moment later, grinding his dick deep in his clenching hole. He stays hunched over his limp body while he catches his breath, and while Fuego comes back to earth.
What just happened?
"Well, I think you're fine to get back in the ring."
Kenny's so casual as he pulls out and grabs a couple towels. He cleans himself up with one, and the other he tosses to Fuego, along with a water bottle. Fuego slowly straightens up. He shudders at the feeling of his own cum cooling on his face, smearing on the towel. By the time he's picking his gear and mask up off the floor, Kenny's already tucked back in his pants and headed out with a spring in his step.
"Don't forget to lock the door on your way out. Great job out there tonight, by the way."
What the fuck just happened?
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