Time To Play The Game by Dark Alpha Wolf

Time To Play The Game

Dark Alpha Wolf, Bad Language, Dragon, Fox, Knot, M/M, Music, Party, Violence (Not In Yiff), Wolf, Wrestling, dirty talk, wwe

My first honest attempt at a yiff story, so please be gentle! I'm not perfect (Damn humanity...why can't I be the creature I was born to be? A loving, fierce wolf! Not some fleshbag human! lol...sorry, I have issues *picks up a spoon* YOU WANNA MAKE SOMETHIN' OF IT!!!? WELL DO YA, PUNK!!!?)

I guess as an author I must note that this contains material not suitable for anyone under 18 years old, but seriously, why am I trying? No one reads these, anyway. So for the sake of not getting your tail-end punished by snooping adults, read it when you're alone. Or not, your choice.

So, allow me to present:

Time to Play The Game (started 2/9/10 - ended 3/27/10)

Oh, by the way, I should probably note that a lot of the inspiration for this story comes from my life and from fantasies that I've had since I was a little child. Also, I have to give credit to the WWE for their awesome source of inspiration. I couldn't have done it without. And to not say anything about those fantastic performers, the WWE superstars who put their bodies on the line time and time again day in and day out just to entertain us, their fans, would be a crying shame. To you, the Michael Shawn Hickenbottom's (the Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels) and the Paul Levesque's (The Game, Triple H) and the Mark Calloway's (sorry if I spelled that wrong) (The Undertaker) of the business, I salute thee. And I have to also say that there was a lot of inspiration from a dear friend of mine, whom, one day, I hope, may become more than just a friend over the 'Net... But until then, I guess I'll let you guys get to the story.

Thanks for reading!

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Ace's Theme: "The Game" by Motörhead - Triple H's theme (for anyone not familiar with professional wrestling)

Luke's Theme: "Sexy Boy" by Jimmy Hart, lyrics by The Sensational Sherri and Shawn Michaels - Shawn Michaels's theme

Quicksilver's Theme: "Invasion" by Christian Poulet/Jean-Yves Rigo (otherwise known as "Who's Next?") - Goldberg's theme

Nero's Theme: "Voices" by Rev Theory - Randy Orton's theme

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I wonder what this is all about... I thought, re-reading the note in my hand for the third time. I had been told to stay away from the house for about two hours, on pain of disappointment, signed "Those Who Are About To Rock." Nice, guys...very nice...

I could only fathom why they would want me away from the house for this long. Surprise party was my immediate reaction when I first read the note this morning after bringing in my mail. Yeah, it was my birthday, but really? They were going to throw me a surprise party, even when they knew this whole note thing would immediately tip me off to it?

Of course, not one to refuse favors by friends, I'd done as the note said. Of course, I'd left the house in my best leathers and adornments, chains jangling and various metal pieces catching the light. I must have looked like a six-foot black disco ball with appropriately black hair and fur, but hey, it's my style. If they were keeping eyes on me as I left the house (and knowing my crafty friends, they were), maybe this would tell them I knew.

I'd basically just gone to the gym to work out a bit (sorry to say, but these muscles don't sculpt themselves, and I do enjoy the results, thank you very much), then stopped by the local supermarket to do some shopping. I ran into a bunch of local furs who I knew well (the town is pretty small, so this isn't exactly surprising), and they all said "Happy Birthday" to me, with high fives and claps and all of that. I even recieved a custard-filled eclair from the head baker behind the bakery counter (I was a regular customer, which I bet he appreciated) as a free (and may I say very delicious) birthday present.

As I came home in my sleek black and red Corvette, the silver wolf design that I had so named Fenrir racing past the traffic like lightning, I noted that the street was full of cars, many of them recognizable as belonging to my friends. There was Rafe's massive Hummer H6, and Trevor's Pontiac GTO Judge (fully restored, might I add), and even Tommy's old-school '69 Impala. Seriously, guys? You couldn't even think to put your cars away so that I wouldn't suspect that you were here? You people plan parties like crap I mentally chuckled.

As I opened the door to the front stairwell that led up to the living room, any noise from the room beyond ceased with deathly efficiency. I chuckled slightly. Well, here goes nothing...

I started walking up the stairs and suddenly I heard something loud and clear coming from behind the door...

"And finally, the birthday wolf himself and the reigning Undisputed World Champion: From here in the snowy clutches of northern Wisconsin, weighing in at two-hundred fifty-five pounds, I present to you The Alpha Wolf to Rule All Wolves, The Ace of The Game, The Wolf King of Kings: Triiiiiiiiiple Ace!!!"

That was the cry I came up the stairs to, opening the door to the massive living room as the stereo speakers began to blast a masterful rock piece through the house and the theatrical lighting I had had installed into the place began to strobe in rapid multi-color, throwing me from darkness to reds and blues and greens and every other color one could think of. On one wall had been cleared a space that now showed a massive titantron of fast-paced images of my favorite wrestler, Triple H, beating the living tar out of his opponents and celebrating his many victories. It felt almost as if I had stepped into the WWE itself, not my own house. But I didn't have time to think on this.

My friends started cheering and clapping as I came into the room, lupine howls and draconic growls and shouts of "The Champ is Here!" from a myriad of different animalistic voices, all trying to compete over the music as I smiled wide. Well a happy, happy birthday to me. I wonder how big the cake is if this is just the opening celebration...

Suddenly my best friend of all of them practically tackled me in a hug with all five feet, eleven inches and one-hundred eighty pounds of him. His vulpine strength was very noticeable as he basically crushed my arms to my sides and brought me to the ground, wrapping me in a massive coat of his warm, soft, brown fur.

"Good to see you, too, Luke!" I shouted over the music, grabbing him and hugging him back, inhaling his pleasing scent.

"Happy birthday, Ace!" he shouted into my ear. "Hope everything is good enough for you!"

"You idiot, it's perfect!" I chuckled, letting him go. "Come on, let's get this party started!"

The whole house was filled with colorful decorations that were alternately shaded and brightened with the still-strobing lights that had transformed the entire house into a very party-like atmosphere. Friends from all around me congratulated me, slapped me on the back, called me "Old-Timer" (among a wide variety of other jesting names), and just helped me have a grand old time as I started to fully get into the swing of celebrating. There was dancing (dirty and otherwise), singing (and, dear gods, karaoke...I'm sorry, but some of my friends cannot sing, but I didn't tell them that), video games (Assassin's Creed II for the win!), and - my personal favorite - wrestling.

Now before anyone starts, my friends and I had pulled some strings and we'd gone through professional wrestling training (TNA, WWE, UFC, you name it...thank you affluent parents!), so we knew the risks and we knew how to handle ourselves. And trust me when I say that we've all experienced moments where "Do not try this at home" really smacked us in the face.

Really matches didn't consist of much more than simple moves and basic to intermediate holds, but a jack-load of taunts and finishers (attempted and executed) helped keep the crowd interested. Finally, as some kind of tournament had apparently been set up without my knowledge, we came to the last round where I had to go up as defending World Champion against the winner of previous matches, who just happened to be a massive dragon, silver-scaled and crimson-eyed with a fierce sense of pride to boot. He was also another of my group of great friends, but he could be deadly serious in the ring. He went by the name of Quicksilver (both in the ring and in reality, ain't that a kicker?), and he and I had been friends for quite a long time since he'd moved up here. Now it was time to lace up my boots (metaphorically, anyway, since I'd had my attire on the entire time, not to mention my boots) and go claw-to-claw with him.

"This match will be an Extreme Rules match, and it will be for the Undisputed World Championship!" Luke shouted into the microphone, to which the crowd erupted in return. "Entering first, the challenger! From the former Soviet Union, weighing in at three-hundred and fifty pounds, here is...Quiiiiiiiiiiiiick-silver!!!"

An imperious, intimidating almost battle march pulsed from the sound system, no vocals distracting from the intense "bum, bum, bum-bum-bum" repetition that got louder as Quicksilver made his way to the ring (set up in a spare room that most people would see as more like a small warehouse), clad in only a pair of tight-fitting black wrestling trunks and matching boots and gloves with a fierce, predatory look chiseled into his features. Half the crowd was chanting, "'Silll-ver...'Silll-ver" with the music as the lights flashed in time with the music - black/silver, red, black/silver-red-black/silver, and so on. Even behind the curtain to the "backstage" (which was just another name for the walk-in closet with the outfits and make-up), I felt a bit intimidated. But I was the champion, and I didn't have a choice in the matter.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you, your Undisputed World Champion!" Luke cried out as Quicksilver's music died away and the lighting was once again normal. The crowd now went absolutely nuts. "From here in the snowy clutches of northern Wisconsin, weighing in at two-hundred and fifty-five pounds, he is The Alpha Wolf To Rule All Wolves, The Ace of The Game, The Wolf King of Kings: Triiiiiiplllllllllllllle...ACE!!!"

The low growling of my theme began and the lights were all dark but for my titantron (a custom tribute to The Game, The Cerebral Assassin, The King of Kings, Triple H - by me, thank you very much), and I walked out on to the stage as the early roar of the music began and I was backlit by the alternate titantron behind me in the walkway (a massive 3-D Maltese cross, the iconic symbol of The Game) and many of the lights began their multi-colored rapid strobe effect. I smiled and held up the objects in my hands: a water bottle in my left, and a sledgehammer in my right. The crowd practically roared itself hoarse over the music as I lowered my arms and began to walk to the ring.

I've said before that I was all decked out in my attire and had been most of the day. This was true...to an extent. I was wearing the leather pants and boots that I traditionally wore in the ring, and my gauntlets and cut-up undershirt did belong with this set of attire. However, I had added a deep black leather jacket, emblazoned on the back by three crimson spades and my wrestling name over the outline of a howling wolf. Oh yes, I was comin' in looking like I was headed into a street war. I was deadly serious when it came down to looking good for a job. This job just happened to have a "dress as you like" statute in effect... Brilliant.

The ramp down to the ring (yes, I had personally installed it...gods, that took some time, especially with the lighting both in and around it and the floor) was alive with strobing colors, just like the ceiling, and you could definitely tell that I was showing plenty of fang as I stalked a steady, vicious pace down to that ring, my amber eyes locked on Quicksilver's the whole way down up until I was forced to turn my back to him and mount the apron as the music dropped to a guitar-riveted decrescendo, pulsing as I turned to the audience, a drink of water already in my mouth as I readied myself, my neck muscles tensed.

The music came in its blazing crescendo and I released a fountain of water, a howl ripping its way from my throat as the crowd cheered like crazy, returned howls and deafening roars coming from their wide array of muzzles and gaping maws. I turned my attention back to Quicksilver, who hadn't quit staring at me since I had entered the arena area, and ducked under the top rope, entering the ring proper, clutching the sledgehammer like a warrior would his sword, smiling as I ran a paw over the sleek surface of the wooden handle and my other gripping just below the metal head. As I ducked under the top rope, all my focus was on him, and all of his focus I could tell was on me. It would be an interesting battle.

The lights went up and I let the head of the sledgehammer fall away from my hand to grip behind me as I released the clasp for the title belt around my waist, holding it up high for the audience to see, a massive sense of pride flowing through me. It was a magnificent-looking replica of the old WWF Undisputed Champion belt, with real metal and intricate carvings adorning its surface while the name plate was embossed with my name on it. My pride and joy. I would defend it with all I had.

The strobing lights finally stopped glinting off of it as the lights came up to normal and handed it to Luke (who was the referee). I snarled at Quicksilver, a deadly grin on my face. He matched it.

My music finally died off and the bell rang for us to start.

"Don't go easy on me," I growled at Quicksilver, "gimme all ya got. No holding back. Winner takes all."

"Like Hell am I goin' easy on you, birthday boy," he grinned ferally, his smile holding much more ferocity than friendliness. It was more a baring of teeth than anything else. "You better get ready to give up that belt, buddy boy," he chuckled.

"To quote you, like Hell," I growled, tossing out of the ring my jacket and shirt, then went into a basic lock up with him, dropping the sledgehammer for now.

We exchanged blows back and forth, closed fists, knife-edge chest slaps, elbows to the gut and more which only set the crowd up for the ramp-up. Next we started pulling out the submission holds, barely pulling out of them at times, which kept the crowd oohing and aahing. Suddenly, however, Quicksilver had pulled out a chair and smashed me a good one right between the eyes, which sent me down easy, seeing stars. The crowd roared as he roared in confidence, flexing his guns (at least I think he was...those stars were kinda annoying for seeing past, if you know what I mean).

He tried to pin me. Like Hell would I let a flimsy chair shot stop me. I kicked out strong, only letting a one-count pass. The crowd cheered, though I think it might have been a good idea to wait for a two-count. Build up the drama, y'know?

I got up, teetering slightly (that chair shot was hard), and as I turned to face him again, I felt a massive pressure hit me at high speed and I went down again clasping my gut. He'd speared me, damnit! And damn, did he go all out on that one! The crowd cheered again, some chanting "'Sil-ver, 'Sil-ver!" while others were chanting my name in response, trying to will me to my feet. Trust me when I say I was glad for every supportive voice.

I struggled to my feet again, facing away from him, but this time I played it smart. I could hear the cheer of the pro-Quicksilver crowd increase two-fold and the pro-me crowd going, "Oooooooh!" in a warning that I had heard all too often as a sign of oncoming trouble. I knew he was preparing to spear me again. It was a trademark of his. Once the opponent got hit with one, they thought they were okay and were lulled into a false sense of security, which is when he pulled out the second one to blindside them.

I turned just in time to see him coming and quickly let myself drop and roll out while he slammed shoulder-first into the ring post, which I had learned from personal experience hurt like a mother_sunnovabitch. I knelt for second to get a second wind and I saw him on the canvas, clutching his shoulder in pain. _That'll teach you to underestimate me, bud I thought. I'm the undisputed champ for a reason.

I pulled the apron up and started reaching under the ring, searching for something to smash between his eyes and felt a good, solid object hit my hand. Pulling it out into the light, both I and the crowd were pleased to see that it was a two-by-four...wrapped in barbed wire, I added mentally, growling in a fanged grin. The crowd roared once more as I raised it for all to see and turned to see Quicksilver's eyes widen in what I had to consider was basically pure shock. He didn't figure that we stocked these kind of weapons under the ring. Exactly. Surprise! I chuckled as I rolled under the bottom rope and rose to my feet, clutching the two-by-four like a baseball bat.

He was holding his hands up in front of him like I would put it down if he pleaded. He was mouthing, "Please, please, don't do this," and backing up toward the edge of the ring while I stalked toward him, the crowd raising a ruckus like never before.

I charged with the weapon and he put up a massive foot, which I promptly ran face-first into, putting me on my back and disarming me of the two-by-four. He chuckled and took up the weapon, raising high above his head like a sword. He swiftly brought it down on my stomach and I cried out in pain, feeling the barbs ripping through flesh and fur. Again he raised it up, and once again I cried out as it came down on my stomach. He laughed a loud, growling laugh and tossed the thing away, then ducked out of the ring while I could only hold my gut, feeling the pain tearing through me.

The crowd was chanting a combination of "Let's go, 'Silver!" and more "'Sil-ver, 'Sil-ver!" as I wormed my way to the edge of the ring and basically fell out, still clutching myself as I hit the padded floor. I turned and gaped at what I saw Quicksilver doing.

He had set up two tables side-by-side next to the ring and was quickly setting up another on top of them. Good gods, he wanted to put me through them! But that wasn't all I noticed. I also could smell the pungent scent of...gasoline.

Ho-ly shit.

I quickly got to my feet and back into the ring, trying to pull myself to my wits as he came in and gave me a shot to the face, trying to soften me up for the massive blow he was ready to deal. He locked up with me and dragged me to that side of the ring again, then gave me a low blow, which sent me to the canvas again. Y'know, when you see that stuff on television, don't just think they're pretending it hurts. It hurts like a bitch, no lies.

He stepped through the ropes on to the apron and turned to the tables, then did the unexpected and released a gout of flame that set the tables ablaze in what now looked like a pyramid of flames, which got the whole crowd about ready to blow the roof off the place with all the cheering and roaring. He didn't expect, however, that I had no intentions of going through those flaming things. Like...motherfucking...Hell.

I swiftly got to my feet, still staggering, and as he turned to get back into the ring, I howled, "SUCK IT!!!" and delivered a massive superkick right to his jaw, which sent him backwards, flying through the air for a split second like a falling angel, and directly through those fiery tables, which was followed by a whole bunch of oohs and aahs and "Holy shit!" and a whole load of other things. The smell of burnt wood and of singed anatomy (in this case, hair, eyebrows, any of his more vulnerable flesh - since, hey, he is a dragon after all, and, ergo, kinda resistant to fire, among other things). I didn't care, though. He'd taken it to the extreme, and I was just going to bring it up about twenty notches.

I rolled back out of the ring and started digging out a whole bunch of weapons. Stop signs, trash cans (along with lids), Singapore canes (also known as kendo sticks), crutches, more two-by-fours (regular two-by-fours, though, sans barbed-wire), cookie sheets, more chairs, a fire extinguisher, a steel pipe here and there, and finally what I was looking for...a ladder.

The crowd practically howled with cheers as I pulled (at least it looked like) a twenty-foot ladder out from underneath the ring and pushed it inside (with a bit of difficulty...man that thing was huge!). I saw Quicksilver still writhing in pain on top of the now demolished tables and I laughed with a loud growl as I set up the massive ladder facing his direction. The crowd roared as I began to climb, but then was confused as I backed off of it. I suddenly turned around and left the ring again, only to take a few objects and promptly beat them into the skull and torso of Quicksilver, including in that array one of the chairs I had dug up, a cookie sheet (in his face!), a massive set of steel steps from the side of the ring, and a metal baseball bat (to his face and his chest!).

I snarled and howled as I choked off his air with a wire from some monitor I had dug up from underneath the ring from behind him, my emotions and adrenaline running like liquid fire through my veins as I drew his strength from him. The pro-me crowd roared their agreement, chanting, "Tap! Tap! Tap!" I, however, didn't have plans to make him tap...

I set him up with an absolutely devastating powerbomb on to the steel steps and let him lay there in angonizing pain, his face a surely painful mess and his torso full of many assuredly nasty red marks, as I got back into the ring. Trust me when I say I didn't envy him at that moment. (I think I may have broken one of his ribs...but hey, what's the thrill without the risk?)

I swiftly looked around and spotted something that really got the crowd riled up: the sledgehammer. I picked it up amidst the massive roar of the crowd and began to climb the ladder, the applause getting louder as I neared the top. When I finally got there, I could almost feel the electricity in the air, it was almost tangible.

Now I should probably mention that I'm not the most avid fan of heights, so when I found myself at the top, I was plenty nervous. I mean it, I was practically quaking. But, as the legendary Shawn Michaels had shown me (may the gods bless his human heart), it was all about the landing, not the flight. If you stuck your landing, your flight didn't really matter. You didn't really have time to think about it anyway. A second doesn't last as long as some may think, what with the dramatic descriptions of those moments that seem to last forever when they're really only an instant (mind you, I've had those, too, but this is an entirely different story...but I digress...).

So as I looked down at the still-writhing Quicksilver from high atop that ladder with that crowd ready to blow the roof of that place, I had to smile. I raised my sledgehammer into the air like my icon, Triple H, and let them have one last roar, then leapt.

As it turns out, even when you land correctly, flying hurts.

I impacted Quicksilver's chest with the head of the sledgehammer, but didn't really think about where my legs were going to land, and so I landed upon the ground and crumpled into a ball, feeling the pain shooting through my body as I held my legs and tried to keep them from cramping up and quitting on me. I could definitely tell Quicksilver had had the worst of the pain, though, considering the moans and the groans amid the growls I could hear beside me. I could also hear Luke shouting at me if I was alright (the first time I'd really bothered noticing him all match), and I gave him a weak thumbs-up. The crowd was chanting "Ho-ly shit!" along with my name, though, and I knew that the match was working out just fine. I'm hurt, but I'm okay I thought. That helped keep me moving.

I slowly regained my footing and pulled myself to the edge of the ring, working my way in and staggering to keep my footing, apparently also bleeding as I saw blood trickling to the canvas (and not just from my stomach where I'd gotten torn up earlier from the barbed-wire bat). I put a paw to my face and felt the blood on my forehead, and I groaned loud, feeling the pain shoot down from there through my body as soon as I touched the wound. A suddenly twinkling caught my eye, though.

I looked to my right and saw a bed of thumbtacks laid out on the canvas. Did I do that? I wondered as it took me a few seconds for my brain to register the reality. Interference.

Suddenly from out of nowhere, my head was gripped by a person who had suddenly shot out from my right (the blood having flowed into my eye and distorted my vision partially) and I was suddenly slamming into that bed of tacks via an RKO, feeling the pain spread like wildfire through my chest as the tacks worked their way wicked-fast into my skin and embedded themselves there. I rolled on to my back, feeling more tacks work their way in back there as well, but just wanting to get off of my stomach. What I saw through the pain and the blood was Nero, grinning a very lupine grin down at me. He was playing a heel (a bad guy, the opposite of a babyface - or face, for short - which is what I was playing) tonight and he was grinning at my suffering.

And now, his belt came from his waist and came down on my chest and the already-imbedded thumbtacks with a massive "slap!" that forced me to cry out in pain. Good gods does that ever hurt! And again it whipped me, and yet thrice more, until my chest had basically gone numb when I saw him drop the thing through my squinted vision. I was holding myself, snarling obscenities, when I felt a wad of spit land on my face. Okay...now he had gone too far.

Just as suddenly as the spit had hit me, though, I saw Luke's foot come out of nowhere and give Nero a real Sweet Chin Music (unlike just the superkick I had used on Quicksilver, since this was Luke's trademark finisher), which put him up and over the top rope to land hard on the floor. The crowd cheered highly at that one and I smiled at Luke, silently thanking him for his intervention, to which he smiled back.

I quickly got my wits back to me and rolled out of the ring slowly, the pain of the tacks combined with the damage that belt had done hurting like a motherfucker as I struggled to keep myself up and moving. Suddenly, however, I was sent back to the ground as Quicksilver came like a freight train and smashed me in the face with...no way! He hit me with my own title belt!

I fell like a ton of bricks and felt myself land hard on something big and cylindrical, forcing another moan of pain out of me as I rolled off of it. Wait...big and cylindrical... Fire extinguisher! I thought victoriously as I saw the bright red beside me. I quickly grabbed it as I saw Quicksilver approaching me again and fired a burst of cold white into his face, the desperation working the adrenaline in my veins like fire through a drought-stricken forest. The crowd hooted and hollered as they saw Quicksilver overtaken by the massive burst of chemicals in his face and I ramped it up by throwing the thing at his head, which prominently smashed into his face and sent him down holding his muzzle. I chuckled through the pain and tried to get up, but the thumbtacks still hindered my movement and I couldn't get up past getting to my knees.

Suddenly, though, I saw a massive foot coming at my face and, with all my strength and the crystal-clear vision provided by the adrenaline (despite all the blood), I caught the massive foot, glaring up at Quicksilver with snarling eyes directly into his own, practically terrified ones.

"You...son...of a bitch..." I spat venomously, ready to break him at a second's notice. "You tried...to put me...through three tables...and now you're trying to take my head off..." I rose and tossed him back on to his back, swiftly grabbing the metal baseball bat from the floor. The red haze I had come to know and respect fell over my eyes and I lost all control for just a second...

I swear at least I just thought it was only a second, but when I felt my limbs come back under my control, I saw that I had deeply laid into Quicksilver with that bat, my arms raised in preparation for a final strike.

I quickly dropped the object and staggered back, holding my head. Luke, the ever-loving guy that he was, was asking me like a frantic fox if I could continue.

"I'll be alright, but let's finish this up soon," I panted, shaking my head to help clear my thoughts.

I picked up Quicksilver like a rag-doll and easily decked him in the face with a fist, which staggered him backwards to the steel steps I had laid him out on previously. Suddenly, though, I heard the crowd get excited and turned to find Nero attempting to put me on the ground again with another RKO. This time, however, I had the sense to reverse and, in true Triple H fashion, as he turned to respond, I picked him up and put him on the ground with a huge spinebuster that left him cringing in pain on the not-so-well-padded floor. I shot him a Hellish glare that clearly stated, Don't interfere again, lest it cost you your life.

I turned to confront Quicksilver again, when I saw the head of my sledgehammer plowing into my face (covered by part of his fingers, obviously, since if it had been a plain hit, he would've probably permanently broken my face in) and immediately felt myself hit the deck again. I saw the pro-him crowd crow at this and he smiled far too toothily. Then I saw him raise the hammer up over his head. My eyes widened.

Then...it was all pain.

My right leg felt like someone had decided to test how far forward the knee joint would go and then had hyperextended it until the break happened. The pain was basically indescribable beyond that, and I won't even begin to try. Let me just say that the hammer may have lost its head after that, but I believe my leg was much more worse for the wear.

I howled, the pain closing off every other emotion I could muster at that moment other than the massive need for something other than my own tongue to bite down on as it spread like wildfire up through my body.

Luke quickly rushed to my side, pushing 'Silver away - to which he just laughed - and leaning down to help me.

"Are you okay, Ace?" he asked in that ever-lovin' way only he could, like the world would end if he couldn't help.

"God-damn, I think it's broken!" I snarled in Hellish pain, clutching at the leg, but at the same time trying not to move it at all. "I think he fuckin' broke it! God-damnit, I think he broke it!!!" was all I could scream, like a broken record.

"That's it, I'm callin' off the match!" he said, getting up, but I reached for his wrist.

"No! Just...just let me finish, damnit," I moaned, the pain not as intense as it had been a few seconds ago, which allowed me to see his almost teary-eyed face. "I can do it...I can beat 'im...but you have to let me do it on my own..." I panted out.

He nodded, gulping audibly, and pulled himself back together as he stood up, glaring a look that could melt steel at 'Silver. But then he did something I would have never dreamed: he pulled back his right fist and socked him right in the jaw, sending him to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The crowd gasped at that, as did I, but 'Silver wasn't about to let that go without a little payback, and he immediately rushed to his feet to return fire, only to feel the massive pain of a Sweet Chin Music almost shatter his jaw and knock him on his ass. I swore I saw blood fly. Luke, looking down at him, held his striped referee shirt out, pointing to it and snapping something out at 'Silver, as well as pointing back at me during his verbal beat-down.

I had to get up... I had to put an end to this now.

Gingerly, gingerly I pulled myself to my feet and attempted to put as little weight on my right leg as possible as I got into the ring for the final confrontation...with my title belt (which I had picked up from the floor). This was it.

Quicksilver was basically thrown into the ring by Luke - yep, he was quite assurely bleeding - and gave no resistance as I kicked him in the gut and set him up for the Pedigree on the exposed title face (extra pain!). I howled out a final, "SUCK IT!!!" taunt to the crowd - which the supporters of me responded to infinitely well - and did the DX crotch-chop over 'Silver's back once, then executed the damn Pedigree as the crowd went absolutely wild.

I fell to the ground and managed to hook his leg up and hold his shoulders to the mat with my last remaining strength - I kid you not, I had nothing left in the tank at that point. Luke dropped to the mat with us.

One, two, three. The bell rang, my music roared, and it was over... Thank the gods, it was over...

"Here is your winner and still the Undisputed World Champion: TRIIIIIIIIIIIIPLLLLLLLLE ACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Luke had apparently shouted into the microphone right after the bell rang.

I'd passed out by the time he got to "still."

When I finally awoke, I was lying down. That much I could tell for certain. Everything else was still kind of hazy at first.

The first thing I really noticed was that I was in my room underneath the covers, with a sleeping Luke in the chair on my right, his face tear-stained. Damn...I must've really scared the poor guy...

I groaned as the pain worked its way through my body as I sat up. I tried to move my leg, and found it to be fully fine. I guessed it wasn't broken after all, and silently said a thanks to the gods above, only to notice that my title belt was draped on top of the blanket. I smiled.

"Hey, Luke," I said, trying to wake him up.

"Wha..." he groaned groggily, his eyes trying to open after sleeping for a bit.

"It's me, I'm awake," I said, smiling at him.

He finally looked up and smiled wide, coming to me and embracing me in a hug, which I let him despite the pain that worked through me as his grip held me. I held him back and sighed, content with his caring presence and a friendly chest to lay my head against.

"You okay, Ace?" he asked gently, letting me go to look me in the eyes. "You took a Helluva beating."

"Yeah...but hey, I had to defend my title. I'm the Undisputed World Champion for a reason," I chuckled. He chuckled back. "Well, I assume I won?" I asked sarcastically, motioning to the belt on my lap.

"You didn't just win, you freakin' destroyed!" he laughed. "'Silver went out of there on a stretcher, for the love of all that's good. That superkick through the tables? Massive! And that huge sledgehammer shot from the ladder was the bomb! I mean, I swear I thought you were gonna basically break him from sternum to spine and everything in-between! That shot was huge! And don't even get me started on that huge mother-lovin' Pedigree you gave him! That was the coup de grâce, man! Massively awesome!"

I chuckled again, blushing a lot this time. "It wasn't that great..."

"Like Hell! That was awesome! Man, I wish I could've gotten that on tape!"

"Don't worry, I think Rafe was taping the whole thing. Bastard...if he was the one who got the close up on me when I got laid out on those thumbtacks, I swear I will break his face in," I laughed.

He chuckled back. "I would, too. It did feel good to smash Nero in the face, though."

I had to laugh at that. "He did look pretty shocked at that."

"By the way, I should mention that none of this was scripted. 'Silver really was going out there to take the title. But you beat the living tar out of him. That was shocking."

I was stunned for a second, then laughed. It was all I could do. "I seriously beat him with no scripting? He wasn't taking a dive? Wow..." I laid back with my head on the pillow and sighed. "It makes this win a whole lot more worth it..."

He smiled. "Happy birthday, man. You deserve this win. You showed a lotta heart out there."

"Thanks. And thanks for that little intervention you pulled on Nero, too. And on 'Silver, which shocked the Hell out of me, may I add," I chuckled back.

"No problem," he smiled.

We both smiled at each other and hugged again, despite the pain.

"I can definitely tell why you take after Triple H..." he said into my shoulder, "you can really play 'The Game' quite well."

I laughed. "Well you're not exactly the polar opposite of HBK yourself, sexy boy," I murmered into his shoulder, smiling.

He stiffened slightly in my arms. "Did you...did you just call me what I think you called me?" he asked.

"Damn right, sexy boy," I smiled, pulling back to see his slightly shocked face. "What, you're my friend for all these years and you think I never noticed why you decided to pick HBK as your icon? You got the moves and the style, sexy boy!" I laughed, slapping him on the chest lightly.

He smiled, blushing heavily. "Th-thanks..." he said, turning away slightly. I suspect he was trying to hide the intensity of the blush on his vulpine face, because even through his dark fur, it was clearly visible.

For those interested, yes, he's gay. He's been gay ever since I met him and, to my recollection, he told me he'd never really been into girls, so I'm assuming it's been a lifelong thing. I, on the other hand, am bi. I was straight for a good part of my life until I really hit that rebellious phase and started really heading into the social world (thanking the Internet for that one!). I discovered my like for guys and decided one day to myself, "Hey, it's not just a nicer, more accepting viewpoint of the world, it's also the best of both worlds, so take that you bigoted assholes of the world!" I should also note that I didn't say any of this out loud, and that I kept myself in the closet away from the attention of my parental figures and most of my friends until I was out of school and out of the house.

To my knowledge, neither of us had significant others that we had tied the knot with (though I was currently involved in a relationship with a girl whom I'd known since the year before I started high school), but I'd always wondered if Luke and I would ever...well, test the bonds of our friendship.

Well...here went nothing.

"Luke..." I started slow, trying to work both him and my self-courage up to the statement, "I...I don't exactly know how to say this...but you know we've been friends for so long...and we both know the way each of us swings..."

He put a paw to my lips and shushed me, his eyes caring and warm. "I do love you, you know that?" he smiled. "I love like only a great friend can love another great friend. And I also know that you're with V (short for Victoria, the name of my female significant other), and that you two love each other in a way I may never fully comprehend. But I also know that I've loved you from afar for a long, long time...and I've always wondered if you'd let me prove it to you... So would you, my best friend in the world, do me the honor of letting me prove my love to you?" he asked, his eyes big and wide and pleading, like a great big puppy dog.

I smiled and nodded.

He raised himself on to the bed and leaned into me. I leaned into him and our lips met in a gentle caress, like velvet almost. Gods, it could drive any guy wild! We pulled back for a few seconds, trying to get enough air to breathe with the adrenaline running hot in our veins. I smiled and he smiled back. We let our lips meet again and this time I opened my muzzle enough to let his soft, searching tongue into my mouth as I attempted to do the same with my own in his. Dear gods, he could kiss! Wow...

We both pulled back, panting yet again. We were smiling like fools, and blushing like 'em, too. I took a look southward and saw that he'd gotten plenty excited with all the attention, and I should note that I, myself, felt the same way, my leather pants feeling quite tight against my member. Naughty foxy I thought. You want to play with wolfy? Well I do aim to please...

I murred lightly and licked him from neck to jawline, drawing a moan from his throat and feeling him shiver in my grasp. "Does foxy wanna play with wolfy?" I murred, nuzzling his neck and nipping lightly at his throat-fur, which basically spilled him into my lap, his teeth nibbling at my lower lip like a massive puppy, his powerful arms grasping me around my chest like a drowning man's to a piece of driftwood.

"Gods, yes, foxy definitely wants to play with wolfy," he growled, his grasp making its way down to the fly of my well-tented pants, eliciting a well-enjoyed moan from me. He undid the ties that held the fly open and I groaned at the feeling of my member being set free from that constricting leather prison, even though my jet-black boxers still kept it from fully enjoying the open air. Luke murred in response, his paw deftly wrapping around my shaft, coaxing a growl from my throat. Damn, did he know what he was doing...

"Ooh, foxy's got a quick paw..." I murred, working a paw of my own down to his zipper, slowly clutching the tab and drawing it down, revealing sexy, tented white briefs. There was a prominent wet spot right where the sumptuous tip of his good-sized cock met that delicate fabric. Oh gods, I wanted so bad to take that into me... First a delicate few licks, then letting that salty-sweet pre run down my throat as I would take him fully into my mouth, and then...oh good gods, and then...

I lowered myself to his tented briefs, my vision filled with the sight of the massive bulge, just so achingly set against that stretched fabric. I let my tongue run across that wet spot, reveling in the taste of that delicious, albeit slightly bitter, pre in my mouth. I began to gently suck him off through the briefs, slowly so as to maximize the pleasure I could give him. He, on the other hand, was humping his shaft into my mouth with his hand on the back of my head, trying to keep me there (not that I had any intention of leaving him so wet and hard, and aching with lust and need...).

I pulled back and smiled a predatory smile at him, lust filling both our eyes. "Eager, are we?" I chuckled, slipping a claw under the waistband of his briefs on either side of his hips. "Gods, you've gotta be one big foxy underneath that bulge of yours," I said, licking my chops. He blushed, idly scratching behind my ears as I began to slip down the fabric seperating me from that sweet staff of flesh. "Oh gods, was I right or was I right?" I murred as my eyes took in the sight of his throbbing nine-inch shaft, pulsing with the sweetness of that heavenly musk filling and overwhelming my senses. I leaned forward and gave him a tentative lick, which forced out of him a pleasured gasp and gave to me an absolutely addicting taste upon my tongue, as if it were something I should have been born naturally to.

I growled now, trying to act the fierce, feral predator, and slowly took him into my mouth, tasting and feeling all of his subtle curves and the warmth of that pulsing, living organ, the musk so heavy and pleasurable now as my nose brushed his groin fur. He groaned and scritched at the back of my head much more enthusiastically now, his face a mixture of pure lust and pure love, though I couldn't tell which was dominating at that moment. But that didn't matter now. What did was giving him the most pleasure that I could.

I began bobbing my head slowly along his length, working my tongue up and around that delicate rod of flesh, paying special attention to the knot that had already partially formed at the base. I took it easy there, though. Didn't want him to come too early now, did I?

"Oh good gods," he moaned above me, practically holding my head where it was with a grip of iron, so far was he in the throes of passion, "by the powers that be, you are so fucking good. Yes, you are such a good wolfy," he growled, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, so far as I could see. I smiled wide at this and felt myself grow a bit harder - if such a thing was possible at this point - at those words. I had admitted it very little, but I was turned on immensely by dirty talk, and Luke's words thrilled that part of my brain that contributed to my arousal. Dear gods, I wanted him so badly, my member was aching with the need...

I released his shaft from my mouth, raised myself up on my arms, and acted on that lust deep down within me, taking a hold of his well-muscled shoulders and rolling us both upon the bed, ending with myself on top and straddling him, a feral growl releasing itself from between my lips. "Now wolfy wants his attention," I growled, fondling myself through the silken boxers that were all that kept my shaft from the warm, open air.

"Yes, sir," Luke said, scritching at my thighs, then moving his paws to the massive bulge in my boxers, which felt soooooo good... He delicately pulled the fabric down my waist and exposed to the world (or at least, the room) my ten-inch cock, which was still aching with that need that, somewhere deep in my primal instinct, knew would soon be sated. Luke blushed visibly, even beneath his fur, at the sight of my shaft, and murred deeply. "Such a big wolfy... Is all that for me?" he asked in a voice that held such lust, yet such tender care, and still yet such pure passion that my body could only respond with a semi-unconscious nod, my tongue hanging out of my own mouth as I readied myself for pleasure of unimaginable scales. "Is all this delicious seed for me?" he asked, dipping a paw down below to fondle my balls, and I whimpered from that inexplicable pleasure. "Does wolfy wanna fill this little foxy with all his sweet seed? Does he?" he murred, letting his free paw stroke gently over my member, which set me all a'tremble with the feel of his soft-furred paw caressing my tender member.

"Oh dear gods!" I gasped, panting as the pleasure roared through my nerves. "Oh gods, foxy...foxy...wolfy's gonna...gonna..." I whined and whimpered, feeling the rush of climax loping at full speed through my body, about to pounce...

And suddenly, there was no more of that blessed touch.

I whined piteously, feeling that rush of seed that had built up to be released ache even more so now for being held back. Luke was smiling above me while I was assuredly cringing in agony.

"Ace...please...take me..." he asked of me, and though he'd just pulled one of the worst tricks in the world - worse than any low blow or any poke in the eyes - I could see that he wanted it, that the true desire to consummate the furthering of our friendship was definitely there. I agreed with every fiber of my being, and I pulled myself off of him so as to let him adjust himself while I removed the rest of my garments from my body.

After a minute, now feeling much better in just my fur and flesh, I watched Luke go down on all fours in front of me, lifting his tail like a lovesick bitch in heat. His eyes that gleamed back at me held nervousness, however. This is his first time, too I thought, and I couldn't help but smile. He was letting me, his friend, with no experience of my own in this area of sex, take his virginity... To say the very least, I was honored and humbled and now felt the pressure to make absolutely sure that I did not screw up this moment.

Grabbing a bottle of lube from the dresser drawer (hey, you never knew when you might need it), I squirted a good amount on to my open palm, and, with great ecstasy, stroked myself lightly, coating my shaft liberally with the cool solution. It took all my might not to come right there, but I had to save it. I had to make this night the best of both of our lives, and I'd be damned if I let it go down like that.

I then squirted more lube into my palm, and gently began to work it into Luke's hindquarters, coating my soon-to-be prize from the tight outer ring to deep inside with a pawtoe, then two, massaging the lube deep. He groaned deeply at the treatment I was providing, and replied in my own way, "Don't worry, this wolfy's gonna make sure foxy's all nice and wet and slick so I can make you all mine," with a growling bass drop at the end, my pawtoes touching especially deep for emphasis. He shuddered appreciatively in response.

I lined myself up with his hole, holding him by the stomach in true doggystyle, and hesitated. Could I really do this? Was I going to chicken out? (Not likely! But that, of course, wasn't what my mind was saying...) What if I was too rough? What if I messed up and really hurt him? I'd never forgive myself if that happened.

Luke looked back at me and smiled. "Well, wolfy, aren't you gonna take me? Aren't you gonna rut me like your bitch? Aren't you gonna fuck me senseless and claim me as your own, like you said you were gonna?" he asked, almost mocking me, daring me to just throw caution to the wind. I snarled in response.

"Damn right," I snarled, and thrust deep.

I could feel his gasp as he was split open by my member, and I immediately stopped, my emotions forcing me to ask him, "Are you alright? I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean it to hurt so bad," in a whimper.

His face, lifted toward the ceiling, was a mixture of pain and bliss. "Oh gods..." he gasped. "Oh good gods, you're big, wolfy. So big and thick...and awesomely sweet for considering my well-being," he chuckled in addition. "But come on, let's move on. I'm fine now, and you've a mate to make of me, don't you, wolfy?" he asked, his eyes glimmering with that hopefulness and those unshed tears of both pain and pleasure (hopefully more of the latter).

"That I do," I replied, and so we began our consummation.

After a few odd movements this way and that, we began to find a rhythym. I noted that, despite being on the edge of coming right before I entered him, I didn't feel that way at all now, and I had to bring myself back up to that edge. But as our hips thrust in time with each other and our souls became ever so intimately linked through this delicate bond, I could easily feel that edge approaching again.

"Oh gods, you big wolf, you," he would growl out, just to tease me, "yes, fuck me like the beast that I know you are. Come on, give me all that you've got, don't hold anything back." Oh man, his voice held such a tauntingly sensual tone. Even as he called on me to go faster or whatever some such, I felt like I was melding with him, melting the bonds that kept our two beings separate, and his voice was just a stimulant, a catalyst in the reaction...a very addictive catalyst, might I add. "Oh gods, you horny wolf, you. You big, naughty wolf, oh gods... You're such a beast...ooh...such a big, sexy beast... You've got such a heart...oh dear fucking gods...and such a nice body to go with it... But you're soul is so pure...and so is your hot, bestial lust..."

Gods, if that voice and all of those compliments aren't just a massive turn on, may the gods strike me down.

"Yes...yes, pound me you hot, sexy wolf. Fuck me hard, make me all yours. Don't let anyone else try and take me away from you. Be my Alpha, my protector, my big, loving wolfy..."

That was it, it was all over now. I heard those words, and in a rush of elated joy, I lifted my head in a primal howl that had to shake the very supports of the house and of several houses in the distance. I barely was able to lock in my knot before the rush of cum flowed from my body and through me into him, filling him with hot seed as my hips continued to pump, shooting jets of cum deep into him, lovingly, ferally, bestially, but more lovingly than anything else. My jet of seed barely started to taper off until after about a minute, and all the while I was holding Luke's body close as I locked my jaw down on his shoulder in a mating bite. I could hear Luke, too, cry out as he began to come, shooting a grand stream of cum all over the blanket, which quickly turned into a fair-sized puddle.

We eventually collapsed, however, as the rush of our orgasms finally came to their end and our strength left us, and landed together in the puddle of seed that he had created on the bedspread. I don't think either of us cared, however. We were just happy to have been together to give our love to each other. And as we curled up together on the bed, me pulling the cum-covered cover over our tied bodies, Luke whispered something to me:

"Happy birthday, love."

"Thanks, love. For everything."

And it was like that, that sweet blackness took us.

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So, after all this time, I finally finished it. THANK...THE GODS!!! This was a culmination of a lot of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears...and, let's not forget, Helluva a lot of cum. Yes, I must say, I'm quite proud of it...even if it took almost two months (holy wow, this thing took a while) to get it done.

I'm sorry if my sex scene is basic and kind of underdeveloped. This, like I noted in the beginning, is my first real attempt at a yiffy story, so please forgive me if it's not up to the same level as those of some of the greater authors on this awesome site. I thank all my newfound friends for their support, including the dear Myron The Otter. YOU RULE, BUDDY! Thanks for reading all of my stories and giving me such nice comments. I really appreciate it, and I hope this story will be a fitting piece to thank you along with all of the generous, awesome people of this super-awesome place. Thank you all for everything.

So I will leave you with a little quote of mine: "They say life is naught without love, and love naught without life; but without friendship, all the world is darkness." Thanks be to you all for your great friendship.