Categories > TV > WWE
Meeting Dean is a story of a fan winning a contest that allows her to go backstage at a Smackdown taping and meet Dean Ambrose. Written in first person.
“If I wasn’t, would you not do it?” She replied.
“No, I still would. But I would feel bad.” I said.
“Exactly.” She laughed.
When we bought our tickets, for both the Raw near our hometown and the Smackdown a couple of hours away, we entered a contest for a VIP package that included a backstage pass and a chance to meet the Superstars and Divas. I won, and it was only one pass, so she was going to grab some dinner while she waited me to call her for a ride back.
“There’s no way in hell, I would stand between you and your chance to meet Dean Ambrose,” she teased as she stood next to me at the mirror.
“It wouldn’t end well.” I agreed.
We both knew that is what I was excited about. There were many Superstars it would’ve been cool to meet, and Divas, like Paige, too. Although, there was only one I was crawling out of my skin over. As I turned from the mirror for her inspection, I wore short, cut-off jeans, and an Explicit Mox Violence tank top. Paired with my girly combat boots and Unstable Dean Ambrose sweatshirt, I thought I looked pretty good. Jen, apparently, thought I needed to do something different with my hair. Since, that’s what best friends are for, I let her do whatever she wanted to it before we left. It turned out, it needed to be straightened a little bit and left down. She was right, I looked pretty awesome when she was done. When it was time to leave, I shoved my ID, cell, and debit card in my pockets, because I hate carrying a purse if I don’t have to. Plus, she had hers so anything else I needed, she could hold for me. We jumped in her SUV and headed to the arena.
Naturally, we stood outside for a while before the doors opened, and we stopped at a concession booth to buy a couple of overpriced Cokes before we made it to our seats. Ringside, of course, because we went all out for this experience and called it a vacation too. In fact, we’d be staying in town a couple of days and doing who knows what before we had to return to normal life. The show was great, there were lots of great matches, and we had a blast. When it was over, we walked out of the seating area together, and she walked as far as she could with me, before we went our separate ways. “Be careful,” she said.
“Always. You too. I’ll call you a in a little bit,” I replied.
After she walked away, I turned around and gave the security guy my backstage pass. He looked it over, and opened the door behind him. Another guy, also security I guessed, was waiting to give me my tour. He seemed pretty unpleasant, and I was pretty sure he just wanted me to hurry up so he could go home. A few minutes into the tour, this became blatantly obvious. I met Natalya, which was pretty cool, and shook hands with a couple of the superstars before I saw him.
Dean Ambrose was standing in the hallway, drinking a bottle of water, and my heart stopped. This was it. I was really going to meet Dean Ambrose. I hadn’t realized my feet stopped moving until Mr. Hurry Up asked me what I was waiting for. Dean must’ve noticed the guy was a jerk, because he walked over and introduced himself to me. After stuttering out an impressive, “Hi, I’m Melinda,” I shook his hand. Then, I stood there and stared at him like an idiot.
Noticing, my tour guide's impatience and/or my incompetence (I couldn’t say which), Dean asked him what we were doing.
“She won a contest, gets to come backstage and meet some of the talent.” He said, rolling his eyes.
“I’ll take her,” Dean said, causing an involuntary squeaking noise to leave my throat. Hopefully, he didn’t hear that.
“What?” Mr. Hurry Up asked.
“You clearly don’t want to be here, and I have nothing better to do. I can walk her around the hallway just as easily as you can. Besides, I think she likes me better,” Dean answered with a wink in my direction at that last statement.
At this point, I almost died. Which was only more imminent when my lovely tour guide said, “alright. Whatever,” and walked away.
Suddenly, he spun toward me grabbing both of my wrists and slamming me into the nearby wall. Before I had a single thought he was kissing me with all the force I could've imagined. The feel of him against me and his display of control nearly undid me, and I forgot we weren't in a private place as I kissed him back. After a moment his right hand slipped from my wrist and worked its way up my arm. Slowly he trailed that magnificent hand across my shoulder and up my neck, when he paused I thought he would squeeze, but he didn't. Continuing to my face he held my cheek and the strokes of his tongue slowed to an aching sweetness. He stroked my face with his thumb, and my mouth with his tongue until I thought I would die. Then his hand slid into my hair, and the game changed again. The sweetness was gone as he gripped my hair and wrenched my head to the side. Letting go of my other wrist he grabbed my thigh and hitched my leg over his hip. Now, with my left hand still on his pec, I was able to lace my right hand through his curls. Growling, he reached for my other leg and used the wall as leverage to hold me up without breaking his stride. My legs wrapped around his torso, my hand in his hair, his tongue dancing with mine, I was completely unaware of the world around us. At least, until I heard the half laugh/ half cough coming from behind him. Slowly coming back down to reality, I saw Roman Reigns standing in the hall with a smirk on his face, “Seriously, Dean?”
Realizing what just happened, I slid my feet to the floor, face flushed from both Dean and embarrassment, and tried to be invisible while I waited for Dean to finish talking to Roman. I was only a few moments before he grabbed my hand and tugged me down the hallway. I wasn’t entirely sure where we were going, but at this point he could have dragged me into a cellar and chained me up without much of a complaint. Approaching a rental car, which I assumed was his, he opened the passenger door for me. After I climbed inside, he shut the door and got in the driver’s seat. Without saying a word, he drove to a nearby hotel, parked and opened the door. Still following him in silence, he led the way to a room on the second floor and held the door for me to enter.
I barely had time to take my jacket off before his hands were in my hair and he was kissing me again. This time, only slightly more prepared, I was able to grab hold of his biceps and return the violent strokes of his tongue a few seconds quicker. Wasting no time at all, he backed me up to the bed, until my feet could go no farther and I fell backwards. Slipping his leather jacket off, he followed me down, crawling over me and not ever losing his focus. As he continued to crawl forward, I was left with no choice but to slide back onto the bed, and when I was where he wanted me, he pulled my arms out from under me, forcing my head to fall back. Again holding my wrists, he shifted them above my head, and held them both in his left hand. His right hand, gliding down my arm and my ribs to rest on my hip. He looked down at me, the fierceness in his eyes making me gasp. Then, with a cocky grin, he resumed the kissing. As his mouth moved from mine, down my jawbone, and to my neck; I could feel the warmth pooling between my thighs. I wanted to touch him, but he wouldn’t let go of my hands Arching my back, as he his teeth scraped across my collar bone, I groaned in either pleasure or agony, I’m not sure which. Finally, he released my wrists, but before I could reach out for him, he was up and dragging his shirt over his head. When he reached for me again, it was only to repeat the action with my own shirt. For a moment, he just looked at me, and I was mesmerized by him; his defined abdomen leading up to nipples that begged to be licked. Broad, strong shoulders, followed by toned arms; but the most amazing thing, by far, was his smile and the way he was looking at me. After what felt like forever, but was probably about 10 seconds he leaned in to kiss me again. This time, with the aching sweetness I felt only briefly back at the arena, and I could swear I heard him whisper, “Beautiful,” just before his lips met mine. Putting his weight onto his left arm, and sweeping his right hand down my torso, stopping only briefly to finger my belly ring, he made his way to the button on my shorts. Flicking it open he continued to the zipper, and proceeded to slowly push them down my hips. He stopped there, and moved his hand back up to my bra, opening the front clasp and freeing my breasts, he growled as he cupped one breast in his hand and sucked the nipple into his mouth nipple into his mouth. My breathing hitched as I wrapped my fingers in his hair and arched my back, giving him easier access. After a moment of suckling and licking, he released that nipple and went to work on the other. As the cold air completed the torture on the now went and sensitive peak, he slipped his hand back down my stomach and into my open shorts. I cried out as he reached that most tender spot, and he bit down gently as he began to rub small circles with his fingers. He kept up the pace and the pressure until it was almost pain, before he lifted his head and slowly kissed me again. The orgasm came fast and hard, and I cried out as I dug my nails into his shoulders. After the waves of ecstasy subsided, he took his hand back long enough to finish pulling my shorts off of my legs and over my boots tossing them only God knew where. He undid his own jeans as he moved over me again, and I couldn’t help but bite my lip as I watch the denim slide down his muscled thighs. His erection standing thick and tall between his hips, I wanted to reach out to him, but he had made it clear that he was the one in charge. As he climbed back onto the bed, he spread my legs and settled himself between them, and when the weight of him rested on top of me I knew that I would never feel so good again. Slipping one hand under me and arching my back, he leaned in and began kissed me with all the sweetness and control I could take. Just as I was about to die from wanting more, I felt the pressure of his tip between my legs. I broke the kiss on a gasp and pressed myself against him. Dropping his head down to my shoulder, he slowly began to slide himself inside me. Too slowly. I bit down on his earring, and what control he had over his body seemed to snap. Once again growling, he slammed into me so hard I yelped, and slid his free hand around my throat. His body pounding into me, mine struggling to keep up with his pace, his hand cutting off all but the faintest intake of air and holding my head angled directly toward his face, he stared down at me as he thrust. It only took a moment for the pressure to begin building within me, and as my breathing became faster his thrusts came harder, I let out a strangled cry and the world exploded around me. He didn’t stop though, didn’t even slow down. Sliding his hand from my throat, he moved down my body, pinching my nipple on his way to my thigh. His other hand snaked out from under my back and wrapped into my hair. I wrapped my legs around his hips and matched his furious pace thrust for thrust. When I came again, he only drove into me twice more, before he stilled; his muscles clenched, his pleasure pouring into me.
When he collapsed on top of me, I wound one hand through his curls and stroked his back with the other. I knew I was going to be sore in the morning, but it was definitely worth it.