Seth Rollins prided himself in a lot of things. His fearless approach to high flying stunts was at the top of that list, of course. The way he could turn the crowd's mood with a perfectly-timed facial expression. His tight, toned body that he maintained flawlessly, that made even those that hated him swoon. The sleaze with which he spoke down to just about everyone.

But he was particularly proud of how damn good he looked in a nice suit. Not only did it look great, it was perfect for his character. The streamlined, corporate style cemented his place as a cowardly, sell-out heel. Linked him to the top dog whose heels he was constantly nipping at. A perfect visual parallel to all that he stood for as the self-aggrandizing future of the WWE.

Truly, the tailored suit was what put the icing on the cake that was the villainous Seth Rollins.

A complete contrast to what he liked to wear underneath it.

As a top star, he was always given his own dressing room for every show, no matter what. It wasn't anything he expected to get, but he certainly didn't complain about the extra privacy. In fact it made it far easier to indulge in some of his odder little pleasures.

Just another reason Seth loved to wear suits. They made it so unbelievably easy to blow off steam, even when he was working.

Especially when he was working.

If anything turned him on more than slipping on a pair of lacy panties and fishnet stockings, it was being able to wear them in front of other people without any of them being the wiser.

And so he arrived on what seemed to be a typical morning at the arena. With everything necessary for the show in a large duffel and a garment bag, he was led from the employee entrance to his private dressing room.

Through the months he spent as a member of the Authority, he'd gotten very confident in his ability to sneak his private indulgences past everyone's radar. Cocky, even. One or two shows every single week, wearing lingerie underneath his suit, absolutely nobody knowing about his wilder side.

Overconfident, perhaps.

Which is why he neglected to lock the door to his dressing room before setting down his things, hanging up his garment bag, and stripping off his street clothes. No one would dare to come in without knocking, not when he was at the top of the company.

Unless they were just stupid. Or rude.

Or both.

Now completely naked, his street clothes in a pile on the bench, Seth dug through his duffel bag to the very bottom. From there, he pulled out exactly what he was looking for. The panties were red, created entirely of soft, stretchy floral lace. Designed to hug curves and accent the hips and ass. The stockings were of a matching color and a wide and downright pornographic netting, topped with silky lace to keep them high up on one's thighs.

His lower lip became clamped under his teeth as his heart began pounding. He slipped his feet through the leg holes on the panties, pulling them slowly up his thighs and up to his hips. The fabric caressed him at his most intimate parts, hugged his soft cock and balls, revealed the very bottom of his ass cheeks.

He took a moment to look himself over in the full-length mirror before he sat down to slip on his stockings. The front of the panties bulged tantalizingly outward. Seth turned and looked over his shoulder, admiring the seductive manner that they framed his hips and backside. He couldn't help but also appreciate the dimples on his lower back – a feature he thought was attractive on others, as well.

Seth sat down on the bench and pulled on his stockings. They slipped easily over his legs and their tops embraced him mid-thigh. The little strip of bare skin between the stockings and the panties made his heart skip. He lightly traced his fingers against the uncovered parts of his thighs and reveled in the shiver that it sent up his spine.

Once more he stood to gaze at his image in the mirror. His cheeks grew hot at the sight of his body in such feminine attire. His hand laid itself on his tight stomach and slipped downward. Fingers traced against the curve of his thigh meeting his hip and his light brown skin quivered. He felt the warmth of his inner thigh, the tightly-wrapped package at his groin.

He shot a glance towards the clock on the wall. He realized then just how early he'd arrived. There was a lot of time to kill before he had to be absolutely ready to perform.

He squeezed himself gently, letting out a long and shuddering sigh. The air about him seemed so much warmer, his blood pumped through his ears and eliminated most of his ability to hear.

And this was the exact moment that someone very stupid, or very rude, or both, opened the door without knocking.

Before he knew to react, Seth was standing face to face with Dean Ambrose, former teammate, current rival, scruffy as ever. The two of them stared wide-eyed at each other for several moments, Seth's face going beet red and Dean's slowly gaining an ecstatic grin.

The door shut on its own. Dean, not taking his leering eyes off of Seth, reached back to lock it.

"Fuckin' awesome," Dean muttered, mostly to himself.

Seth nearly reached for something to cover himself up, but quickly realized it was no use. There was no getting out of this clean at this point. The damage was entirely done.

But he still had to try. His pride wouldn't allow it to end this way.

"The fuck are you doing in here?!" Seth couldn't help but shout. He was bent over in front of the mirror, covering his hardened crotch. "You don't just walk into somebody's dressing room--"

"Door was unlocked." He spoke pointedly in the past tense.

"Like I give a shit!" Seth tried to wave him off, hoping even Ambrose would know when to get out of a situation like this. "Didn't even knock, what the fuck, Ambrose? Don't you have some petty crime to commit or something?"

"Funny you should ask. I was planning on borrowing something from ya. You're real easy to fuck with, Rollins." Dean's voice lowered to a sensual growl. "Well. You're easy, for sure."

Seth pouted at the floor. Their time in the Shield was certainly unforgettable, on stage and behind the curtain. There wasn't much that he could deny on that front. Life on the road was lonely, they got desperate...

No. He couldn't kid himself about that.

They were all up for it. Enthusiastically up for it.

Him, especially.

The pride that was spurring his reactions earlier was crumbling rather quickly in his grasp. Ambrose had him by the balls at that moment, almost quite literally. What else could he do?

Except grow harder at the thought of how humiliating this situation was.

Seth's face was practically steaming. His heartbeat pulsed through his entire body, warming him at every end. He felt himself swallowing hard as Dean looked him over with intrigue and satisfaction. The lace at his crotch was stretching against his growing arousal, which was becoming very difficult to hide. His vision was beginning to fog over, turning Dean into little more than a smirking blur across the room.

"Look at you." Dean's voice lowered to a sensual growl. "If the panties weren't enough, getting caught parading around your locker room like the little slut you are... I can tell how bad you're hurting right now. You couldn't hide it even if you were dressed in that full suit of yours. It's written all over your face."

Dean was approaching him slowly. Seth backed up against the mirror, shuddering at the cold on his back.

He went on, narrowing his eyes. "What would your daddy Triple H say about this? I doubt he'd be happy to see his golden boy like this."

Seth was really sick of hearing Dean call him that. Made his stomach twist in anger every time. But he didn't have time to retort.

"I think he'd be real mad," Dean snickered. "In fact, I think Daddy Trips might even spank you for something like this."

Seth snarled, "You've had your laugh, Ambrose, now get the fuck out before I call security."

Except he didn't want him to leave. He didn't want to call security. He didn't want to be alone like this.

He wanted him to see.

His pride didn't.

But with his back pressed against the mirror, goosebumps springing up on his arms and legs, one hand covering his crotch and the other pressed against his mouth, he ached not only for Dean to see him, but to touch him.

And Dean could tell. He could always read Seth like a book. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a wider grin on his hungry lips.

"Well?" Dean raised his eyebrows at him. "Go ahead. I'm not stoppin' ya. Call 'em here."

Another stalemate. As if to change his answer, Seth let his hands drop to his sides, glaring at the intruder but allowing him to see his arousal all the same. His erection was straining against the soft lace, stretching it out, the head threatening to poke out from the top.

"Turn around. Let's see the back."

Well, that was it, wasn't it? This was happening. They both wanted it, clearly.

Seth turned his back toward Dean, revealing just how nicely the panties framed his ass. His toned thighs looked just as good, just as tantalizing underneath the stockings. His muscled back tensed under Dean's gaze as he turned his head back to meet his eyes.

Dean looked absolutely ravenous. He ran his wicked tongue along his grinning lips as he measured Seth from top to bottom. One large hand drifted to his lower stomach, rubbing just above the waist of his jeans. His fingers slipped down into his pants, forcing a groan from his lips.

"That's real nice," Dean complimented as he fondled himself. "What else ya got?"

"Is this not enough for you?" Seth grumbled, nonetheless walking over to the bench where his duffel bag sat.

"Oh, it's enough, believe me." Dean squeezed himself hard and let out another moan. "But perfect little golden boy Seth Rollins doesn't do anything halfway. I knew you'd have something to match. And lo and behold."

The so-called golden boy growled as he pulled out what he was looking for. Sighed as he held it up for Dean. A short babydoll negligee composed of red silk and a border of lace along the hem and the top of the bodice.

"Knew it. Put it on."

Seth turned towards his own reflection in the mirror and slipped the garment over his head. There was no arguing at that point. Everything from then on would just be inevitable. The silk caressed him about the chest and stomach, his hardened nipples showing through the bodice cups. He turned back to a very happy Dean.

"Even nicer." Finally Dean approached him, setting his hands on Seth's hips and fingering the hem of his top. "You're such an easy little slut, Seth... I like that about you. Always have."

Without warning he turned Seth around and pushed him against the mirror. Seth laid his hands up at about shoulder level, pressing them against the cool glass and beginning to fog it up with his body heat. Dean then pulled Seth's hips towards him, leaving him bent over and panting against the wall.

He heard some familiar sounds behind him – Dean's breath in his ear, the undoing of a zipper, the rustling of fabric. And it was mere moments before he felt Dean's bare arousal pressed hard against his ass. Their skin just barely met between the lace of his panties.

Seth breathed harder at the feeling, and his hand drifted away from the mirror to relieve some of the throbbing in his own groin.

But he was stopped by the disapproving click of a tongue behind him.

"Uh-uh," Dean scolded. "Lemme take care of that for you. You're the one who gave me such a lovely little show." He reached around him and laid his palm against Seth's crotch, enveloping it in his grasp.

Seth's head was swimming at that point. There was little he could do besides return his other hand to the mirror and breathe out a whimper as pleasure radiated throughout his crotch and stomach. He felt another hand snake upward from his chest and stroke his chin. And then two fingers poked at his lips, becoming wet from his saliva.

Seth opened his mouth almost involuntarily, allowing Dean's fingers to touch and fondle his tongue. At that, the bigger one breathed his pleasure into Seth's ear and ground his crotch even harder into his ass. As he gained some sort of rhythm in his hips, Dean slipped his fingers even deeper into the waiting, panting mouth.

Though he gagged once as Dean's fingertips nudged against the back of his tongue, Seth moaned around his digits, allowing saliva to drip from his lips and run down his chin. He was out of control by then, twitching and spasming between Dean's hand and his cock.

He then felt lips against the back of his ear. Wicked, grinning lips.

"Thaaat's right," growled Dean, his words boiling against Seth's neck. "That's a good little slut, isn't it? I knew it, I knew you still hurt for this. Needed somebody to touch you and make you feel good. Nngh," he pounded his own cock against Seth's soft backside, ground himself into the lace, dotted his back with his wet, sticky precum. "Pretty little boy, huh? Doll yourself up like a damn stripper, just to dance in front of the mirror. I bet you wanted somebody to come in and see ya. Me or Roman or Dolph or just about anybody, right?"

Seth let out a mirthless laugh through his nose, not sure what else he could say to that. Dean removed his fingers from his mouth to allow him to respond.

"No, Dean. Just you."

"I knew it," Dean repeated.

His hand dropped and then slid underneath Seth's top. The slick fingertips reached up and squeezed around Seth's nipple, teasing it, sending electricity throughout his body. Seth desperately rut against Dean's hand in return, positively itching in his core for some relief of his burning excitement.

"Ohh, there ya go, huh?" Dean just couldn't shut up throughout. Seth couldn't stand it just as much as he needed to hear more. "There ya go, you needed this, you need to get off so bad, don't you?"

"Yes, god fucking damn, yes." The words spilled out of him, overflowed from his whining mouth, grinding out in the bite between his teeth and his lower lip. "Yes, Dean, fuck, I need it so bad, I need you, make me come, please, just... make me come."

"Oh, you're gonna come all over those panties, aren't you? Filthy little boy."

As Seth thrust hard against Dean's squeezing hand, the man behind him nuzzled against his neck. His stubble burned so sweetly on his skin. But what burned even sweeter was his teeth sinking into the tendon connecting his neck to his shoulder.

Pleasure exploded through Seth's entire body and released through his throbbing member. Semen pumped out of him and soaked into the red lace surrounding his cock. His orgasm dripped down his softening cock as he rode Dean's palm through it, whimpers shuddering out of him at each moment.

And as Seth shook in his arms, Dean let a satisfied grunt escape from his lungs as he pressed just once more against his ass, harder than ever before. His muscular body twitched lightly as his hot pleasure oozed onto Seth's back and down onto the hem of his panties.

Moments passed as they both panted with a happy exhaustion, Seth leaning his cheek against the mirror. Dean unceremoniously detached himself from Seth and left him to slide down to the floor. The golden boy of the WWE was splayed undone against the misty glass, his chin and neck wet with drool and his crotch and ass damp with cum.

His ears pounded with blood, leaving him unable to hear as he watched Dean walk over to the bench. And he observed helplessly as the other one rummaged through his bag.

Dean pulled out an additional pair of panties, these ones silky and black and even smaller than the ones Seth had on now. The big man whistled and ran a hand through his wild blond curls.

"I think I'll just borrow these." He stuffed them into his back pocket. "Insurance, yanno?"

He clicked his tongue, shot him a mocking salute, and excused himself from the room.

"Fuck," Seth huffed as he tried to get to his feet on quivering, jellied limbs. He only made it as far as the bench before he collapsed. His eyes wandered over to the mirror as he leaned back against the locker. Fog, sweat, and sticky white fluid was smeared messily all over the glass, leaving a clear picture of what had happened.

"Fuck," he repeated, making a mental note to grab an extra towel after the show.