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It was hard to hate Carmelo. Even back in the NXT days when some would call him and Ilja enemies, he still had a thing for him.
There was a lot to like about him, that was obvious. Ilja could appreciate the way Carmelo took care of himself, the way his skin was so smooth and free of scars. His hair always so neatly braided, his facial hair well groomed. He dressed well, wearing pieces that were tailored to his body perfectly and accessories that complimented his style. Plus, and this is what drove Ilja the craziest, crazier than he already was about Melo:
His scent.
Not just the expensive colognes he wore, those were nice, never overbearing or offensive. No, it was the way those colognes mixed with the absolutely intoxicating smell of his sweat. Maybe that was why he worked him so hard in their earlier matches, to get as much of that scent as he could. They would toss each other around the ring, Carmelo heaving and pissed off at Ilja’s devastating blows while Ilja was frustrated from his smug attitude. How could a man that made him so painfully hard, from the way he smelled to the way he dressed to the way he even spoke, also upset him so badly?
That was a few years back, though. They had grown up since then, venturing off to new opponents and enemies to despise. After a while, those old feuds didn’t seem so important. The tension had simply fizzled away, leaving behind a mild mutual respect that led them to at least being able to stand in the same room with each other. Even better, they could laugh at each other’s jokes and share a drink together without feeling the need to rip each other’s throats out.
Another Smackdown challenge for the United States Championship brought Ilja into the ring with his dear Carmelo again, and as usual, he was going to make it count. They were getting close to the end now with Ilja doing his missionary pin that Melo refused to admit turned him on. The camera quickly shifted off of them in the ring (Too hot for TV, Ilja chuckled to himself), all eyes on a rapidly approaching Sami Zayn running down the ramp. No one was paying much attention to them any more, but that wouldn’t last long. Ilja decided, in that split second impulsive way that occasionally possessed him like an evil spirit, that he should take advantage of the prone position he had Carmelo locked into. Dropping his head into the crook of Melo’s neck, he took a long inhale of that scent he held so close to his heart. That fancy cologne, the light wafts of his skincare, his sweat from working so hard and so passionately for Ilja, fuck it was enough to make him—
Carmelo pushed him off abruptly, rushing to get into position for Sami. Ah, moment over. Probably a good thing though, this wasn’t that type of show. Ilja remained on the mat, thankful that the camera didn’t give a shit about him for the time being so he could will his raging erection down to a more socially acceptable semi-hardness. Then it could be blamed on the adrenaline of the match and the excitement of the crowd’s screams echoing in his head, oh everyone could understand that, right? After a minute, he was ready to leave, ready to hear how Carmelo would react to his very public display of affection.
“What the hell were you doing out there, man? I almost forgot my cue.” There was no anger in Carmelo’s voice, just breathlessness. His lips were fixed into a frustrated sort of pout that never made him look tough, but it was very cute to see him try.
“I’m sorry,” Ilja said, sounding far from apologetic. He received an impatient sounding noise from Carmelo in response. “I got carried away.”
“You could at least try to make that sound believable. For my sake.”
“You’re right, you’re right. That’s not fair to you at all. Okay,” Ilja raised his hands up, hoping to placate the handsome man standing before him. “I’m so sorry, Carmelo. I didn’t mean for my cock to get that hard being pressed against you. Will you forgive me before or after you let me fuck your brains out tonight?”
A little upward twitch of Carmelo’s lip, the slightest glimpse of his dimples, light squinting of his hazel eyes behind those dark sunglasses…
“After.”
Ilja’s laugh echoed backstage, full and hearty and not deranged at all, as Carmelo headed to the locker room to gather his things.
Several hours later, after they both went their separate ways, Ilja found himself in Carmelo's hotel room. With a short talk about the rest of the show, urgent undressing, and a barrage of touching, he finally had Carmelo right where wanted him— on his back, once again. Only this time he was balls deep within him, trying to keep his composure from the pure pleasure that was Carmelo’s heat.
“Jesus, look away or something. It’s too much.”
“Too much? Oh, this is just the beginning.” Ilja let a slow smile spread across his face.
Ilja granted his lover some mercy, trying to keep him in his good graces. He instead let his eyes shift down to Carmelo's lips, pink and kiss bitten. If he kissed him again he'd come, and it was much too early for that. Ilja didn’t want to close his eyes, how could he when there was so much to look at below him?
Carmelo breathed out a whimper that sent a jolt so powerful through Ilja’s body that he dug his fingers, nails clawing roughly, into the supple skin of Melo’s upper thigh. The marks would look ugly, the only ugly thing on Melo, but at least he was a tights man instead of trunks.
“Shit, that fucking… it kinda hurts, Ilja.”
Ilja realized that he was too far gone. There were times when he forgot his own power and its effects on others. He shook his head quickly, trying to get himself out of the stupor Carmelo had put him under. This wasn’t a match, there was no need to grab and hold the man quite the same way he would during one.
“Can you do it a little harder?”
Sweeter words had never been spoken from such a beautiful mouth.
It was a request unlike anything Carmelo had ever asked for. Along with that, it was asked in such a soft, pleading way that Ilja’s hips stuttered in surprise. His eyes were already half-lidded and heavy from the exertion of fucking Carmelo so deeply, yet hearing him want more pain, more hurt… the icy ocean blue in his irises that shined so brightly turned into nothing but slivers from the way his pupils expanded.
Ilja raised Carmelo's leg further up his shoulder, bending him into a position that elicited a wanton moan out of him. He was freshly renewed with energy as he fucked up into Carmelo. To his shock, Carmelo was staring right back at him, lips parted as he grabbed onto Ilja’s hand still gripping his thigh and made him press his fingers in even harder. This was the end, this man would be the death of him.
Slowly, like he was in a dream, Ilja moved his head down closer to Carmelo. He was still powering though, his thrusts pistoning forward, even though he was moving with less precision. Carmelo's gaze didn’t seem to know where it wanted to land as Ilja approached him, moving from his lips to his neck to his eyes as Ilja pressed their foreheads together. There was nowhere to look but into each other’s eyes, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
From the very corner of his vision, far off in his periphery, Ilja saw a blur of Melo moving his free hand off of the bed. Fingers brushed past his flushed forehead and he wondered how Carmelo had the wherewithal to be considerate, maybe he wasn’t fucking him hard enough, when suddenly he felt sharp and blistering pain from his hair being tugged on. Carmelo grabbed right at the roots too, no half assed pulls at his ends or clumsy fumblings, this was The Real Thing.
Ilja let himself get pulled. He reveled in the tight hold Melo had on him, completely over the moon that he didn’t even have to ask him to do it. He’d heard the old song, how it was never as good as the first time, and he was inclined to believe that.
“You’re perfect Carmelo, fucking perfect.”
As soon as the words tumble out of Ilja’s mouth, his eyes widen. He had to see all of Carmelo now that he was so close. Plunging his cock as much he could inside of him, trying to drag out more loud curse words and panting breaths from Carmelo, Ilja placed his head back in that familiar place from earlier. Carmelo is just as sweaty as he was in the ring, probably even more so, but the scent of his cologne had faded considerably to Ilja’s disappointment. There were still light traces, enough to send Ilja right there, right to the limit…
“Inside me, do it inside—“
Ilja smashed his lips against Carmelo’s to keep him quiet as he cames inside of him, sloppily swirling his tongue. Carmelo liked to kiss a lot, maybe because it got him out of the eye contact, and Ilja loved to oblige him. So he gave him what he needed, slowing down with each pulse of his release spreading inside of him. Ilja would’ve rather heard him talk just see what he’d say mid-orgasm, but it would’ve got him all revved up again and he was out of energy for the night.
Carmelo’s grip tightened to the point that Ilja thought he’d rip some hair out, then immediately loosened along with the rest of the muscles in his body. The familiar warm, sticky spread of release coated both of their lower stomachs with Carmelo making a groaning noise from finally getting to the point of no return. He once again pushed Ilja off, less force this time with no urgency. Ilja, content to lay on top of him forever, certainly wasn’t going to get off him any time soon without the nudge.
“Where did all that come from?”
Ilja was not very sly, and it wasn’t from a lack of social awareness. He was absolutely dying to know the source of Carmelo’s sudden urges.
“I don’t know. Guess it just…”
Carmelo was out of the bed now, looking in the bathroom mirror at some microscopic blemish on his cheek. The soft amber lighting that emanated from the vanity mirror was quite flattering to him. He didn’t seem in any particular rush to get cleaned up, which only served to turn Ilja on again.
“I see how excited you get. When I hit you harder, when I push you into the ropes with more force than usual… you get this look on your face like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. I guess I just wanted to know how that felt. How you felt.”
Well. Ilja didn’t know how to feel about Carmelo’s words. Flattered? Seen? Appreciated? All of the above and more. He also felt warm too, sort of fuzzy inside. It was quite strange to think that Carmelo Hayes made him feel like that.
“What did you think about it?”
Carmelo finally stepped away from the vanity, giving up on the fruitless effort to find a flaw in his stunning visage. He turned to Ilja, casual as ever, and smiled. Ilja loved the way his dimples got so pronounced when he was amused.
“I understand what you get out of it. As a matter of fact, I think I kinda like it.”
Ilja bum rushed Carmelo with a bear hug, picking him up off the cold tile of the bathroom floor to spin him around. Carmelo’s laugh rang in his ears and he set him down, smiling wide with a look of excitable intensity written all over his face.
“Wait a minute now, I said kinda. I don’t think anyone will like all that as much as you do.”
“‘Kinda’ is good enough for me. It’s more than nothing! We will have to explore this together, see what your limits are.”
Ilja grabbed Carmelo’s face with an iron grip to ghost his thumbs gently across his cheekbones. The unexpected shift in demeanor threw Carmelo for a loop. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and his chest seemed to rise and fall more slowly from deep breaths. The way Ilja can be so… on all the time, so unabashed with his emotions both good and bad… It was disorienting and addicting to wonder when that switch would flip.
“Oh Carmelo,” Ilja whispered, his voice filled with wonder and awe. “You’re a dream come true.”