As Ben watched him, John started getting warmed up. The lights overhead started dazzling, showcasing a higher focus on the ring itself than the crowd now, a telltale sign that the match was nearing its start. John began bouncing lightly, staying light on the balls of his powerful feet, shaking the energy from his cannon-like arms before reaching each one up to punch powerfully against the opposite shoulder. His pecs bounced along with him, sheets of beautiful glory rising and falling as if dictating the pace of Ben's heartbeat. He then dropped his fists to punch down lightly over those incredible thigh muscles, each contained in his tight, grey cargo shorts. He was fired up and ready.
Ben was like a small flower in the shadow of an oak tree, barely comparable to the corner post that he was in front of, let alone the titan bouncing before him. He was scared, but excited, nervous, but eager, unsure, but never felt so right in his life. He belonged here. Not the ring, necessarily, but with John. He belonged with John. Yet, with every passing moment, watching John's body on glorious display in front of him, seeing that predatory and dangerous gaze coming his way, his heart pounded harder.
The referee got into position and Ben knew it would start soon. What had he agreed to? His breath was short, his legs weak, his cock like granite. He was going to lose the match if he couldn't pull himself together, if he couldn't calm his dick down. The arousal was too much, it had been since John Cena first showed up, and it was getting worse the further along the evening went. He wouldn't stand a chance in the match if he accidentally came without being inside John's ass. He couldn't do this, he was too weak, too horny. He'd lose strength and get pinned immediately, and he knew if he was under or against John too long, he'd cum too early to secure the win. He had to run or be made a fool in front of everyone.
Ben was doubting himself, and John recognized it immediately. Every second he stared into Ben's eyes, the more John could see even the slightest hint of obscure emotion. He was beginning to memorize the boy, and he saw the fear creeping in, the fight or flight. And unlike when Ben agreed to the match, this time John recognized the desire for flight. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Like an eagle waiting for their prey to scamper off in fear and desperation, John waited for Ben to move.
Ben ran.
He tried to turn, to make a mad dash for the nearest exit, any exit. In his heart he knew he wanted this, he wanted John, but he couldn't face the reality of the pressure. Fear took hold and his legs broke into a desperate rush. He was on the opposite side of the stage; maybe if he was fast enough he could get away before John could catch up to him. But then, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end right as he got under the ropes and jumped down from the ring. He could feel his own body tense in anticipation, instinct mimicking that of a prey animal that knows it's too slow, too weak to escape the inevitable jaws of its hunter.
John ran.
It was almost unfair, but that didn't matter. The way John bounded forward was like a lion out of its cage, sailing through the ropes and off of the stage. He landed right in front of Ben before the boy could even truly register what happened. He got to watch as Ben's eyes went wide with surprise and shock, how Ben's pupils dilated upon seeing him. It gave John satisfaction to bring this primal energy to Ben's life, he loved it.
Ben let out a sharp gasp, bending at the knees on instinct to try and evade the predator hunting him down. He tried to dodge right, to dodge left, but everywhere he tried it was as though John could anticipate every move, read his every thought. Holding up his hands in surrender, Ben tried to bring some thought out to reason with the hulking beast in front of him, but nothing came from his mouth, agape and trembling. Ben's eyes roamed over every inch of the man in front of him once more, never tiring or taking for granted the vision before him. He watched John's massive, gorgeous arms harden and bulge, his chest rise and fall, every movement caught. Finally a yelp, like from a puppy, fell from his lips as John lunged forward and both arms exploded towards him, grabbing him by the shoulders again. The taunting smirk that painted over John's face at that moment was something Ben would never forget.
Ben was led like a sheep by a cattle dog back into the ring. The crowd laughed, cheered, tried to encourage him to continue; they wanted their underdog to come out on top, to topple the reigning titan, to upset the balance. Still, they laughed right alongside John after he ushered the boy back into the ring and to the proper side of the ring, while Ben watched his smile widen in ridicule. Somehow, despite the humiliation, Ben couldn't help feeling like John was teasing him in an affectionate manner.
He watched as John scanned from one side of the crowd to the other. The lower vantage point gave him a glorious view of John's sharp, squared jaw from below, and right as that gaze crossed the crowd behind him, Ben could see John look down into his own eyes before pulling that stare away to the rest of the men. A laugh fell again from John's lips before he settled into his proper position once more for the match to begin.
Ben had no choice. He had accepted the challenge, had no way to escape and nowhere to run. He huffed out a hot breath, nervous and shaky, then bent over slightly to get ready for the match to begin. His eyes couldn't focus, his mind couldn't settle, and then he looked into the deep blue of John's gaze, where everything felt right. His heart calmed, his eyes focused and he knew, no matter the outcome, he needed to see this through. He could do it; John had chosen him.
The match started with a roar from the crowd, drowning out every other sound as John exploded forward without missing a beat. His body hunched forward, his bulging pecs hanging forward in the air and his shoulders tensing into spheres of perfect muscle as powerful legs carried him forward like a missile aimed right at Ben. It was surreal for Ben to watch those muscles, the mountain of a man getting closer, growing bigger and bigger and bigger in his vision as the distance between them shrunk. By the time Ben realized that he was in danger, it was too late. His body shifted to the side in an attempt to escape, turning to try and dodge, but then he felt John's immense grip fasten to his body.
He felt an incredible warmth as the mass of bicep muscle he'd been staring at all night quickly wrapped around his head and neck, squeezing down. It was harsh, and he was already taken aback by the growing intensity of the match. But still, there was something there; some sense of care and gentleness in the way his head was locked in under John's glorious, glistening arm. He tried to scrape, tried to pull and push. He felt his dick throb as his fingers and palms rubbed and pushed against John's sleek body, trying not to focus on how good those rock hard muscles felt under his hands.
Right as Ben reached the point of not being able to breathe, as though John could sense the very limits of Ben's body, he let go and instead grabbed Ben by the waist, lifting the boy like he weighed nothing at all and tossing him hard to the other side of the ring. The resounding thunk of Ben hitting the ring floor and rolling twice from the landing made the crowd gasp again. Ben had to shake his head to get his focus back. The only reprieve he was allowed, however, was a couple of seconds that it took for John to flex at the crowd in triumph before running over and sweeping down into a slide, the sheen of his muscles in the white lights glistening like the reflection off a new car's freshly washed paint job.
His body slid down next to Ben's, and Ben cried out again as those huge, perfect biceps effortlessly wrapped around his neck once again. John used the momentum to swing around Ben's body and lock his head right into the underside of his armpit. Ben’s cries were muffled as his face was pressed into the concavity of John's armpit, his nose smushing deep against the skin and warmth there. Volumes of John's natural, heated scent filled Ben's lungs, his eyes fluttering shut from the intensity of the headlock.
As soon as his body slumped from the pain of the hold, John took the opportunity to readjust, shifting up onto his knees and dragging Ben up with him, turning so that Ben's head was pulled back against his right pec, that enormous bicep still wrapped like a snake around Ben's neck. The boy tried to reach back, tried to grab at or grip John in any meaningful way to escape, but John had him in a vice of muscle, sweat, and heat. Everyone could see Ben's shorts fully tented now, his legs scrambling to try and free himself as John laughed with a cocky grin on his face, lifting his eyebrows tauntingly at the crowd.
Ben could feel the air escaping, the huge bicep of John's arm choking him to where the edges of his vision were fading black, stars and colors swirling around, then suddenly he felt a rush of warmth fill his chest as John's arm released him and he took a gulp of masculine scented air. He coughed, eyes dazzling as John moved from behind him. With the support no longer there to hold the boy up, Ben's body fell back, prone and panting on the ring floor. John stood up and walked a confident circle around Ben's body, building anticipation for his next move, and right as Ben tried to get up John surged down upon him.
The air was knocked from Ben’s lungs again as a wave of pain and pleasure struck him at the same time; the thick, powerful muscles of John's pecs and arms rammed him back over like a bulldozer, pinning Ben down to the ground with his enormous chest. John growled, his voice like a beast from the wild as he pounced on his meager prey. The body pin made sure that Ben could feel every single point of contact. His chest was rubbing against John's, only separated by Ben’s shirt. His throbbing cock was pressing up against John's hips, only separated by their shorts. He could feel John's arms holding him down, muscle against lean skin and warmth radiating all over Ben's body as it wafted from John's flesh. Then, in another pained cry, Ben felt John lean forward, grabbing one of his arms into that dangerous vice grip again. Using all of that strength, John growled again and yanked Ben's arm over and into his hold, Ben’s vision flashing white with pain as he was flipped over onto his belly, his arm surrendered to the titan’s abuse as it was twisted up and backward.
“Ahhh!!” Ben cried out, but John knew it wasn't too much. He could sense every single feeling in his boy, he knew how to keep Ben safe while still playing with his meal until he was broken. John let out a harsh groan, his own cock still quite at attention from manhandling the boy in his grasp, throbbing at the underside of his shorts. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was satisfied, however, and with Ben so easily compromised, he was looking forward to it.
Ben's shoulder exploded in pain and tension, his eyes clenching shut with tears as they and his cock leaked. John had completely flipped him, leaning back against him like a recliner, just holding his arm completely hostage, and he thought for a moment about tapping out. This was how he would escape the pain, the pleasure, the humiliation. His free arm shot out and he looked up in desperation at the hunky referee circling around the both of them. His fingers tapped, slapping on the floor of the ring to quit. He felt bad, he felt ashamed, but he couldn't take more… Or so he thought, anyway. He tapped out and the crowd gasped again, crying out in frustration. The match had only just begun.
But the referee didn't budge. He watched the hand tapping out, and he didn't make a single move to call John Cena off. That was when it dawned on Ben again, and the crowd as well; there was only one rule in the entire match. The only rule the referee would look out for, call for, at all.
“First one to shoot his load into the other wins, kid. And I've got my eye right on you. He can't help you. You're all mine now, and I'm going to claim every single inch you've got.” John's voice was dark and husky, the words hitting Ben like hailstones. He had no way out. Not until he fucked John or John fucked him. He'd lose his virginity today, one way or another. “Now let's give these hunky fucking men in the crowd something to really get hard for.”
With Ben's arm still in his hold, John started to rise, the compromised joint forcing Ben to get up on his knees with yet another pained cry. The hurt was like fire running up his arm and shoulder, but despite its red hot flare, he could sense something else. Despite John's ferocity and strength, Ben could sense a warmth. It was in the way John looked into his eyes, even while yanking and pressing his body to its limit, he could feel affection, a sense of caring…maybe even love. Could it be too much to wish that John could be capable of the same feeling he felt in return? He hoped.
That hope was pushed to the side by yet further pain, however, as John bent Ben's arm up again, the boy howling in need of relief. John had gotten up to his knees, both arms completely wrapped around one of Ben's, cranking it into a sharp upward angle in threat of it popping free. His muscles were hardened with effort and straining to force Ben into position. Ben thought his arm would rip off under the weight of John's boulder-like biceps and the thick, corded muscle of the man's forearms, but right before the pain grew unbearable, John shifted.
Ben's arm was released, and he gasped out in relief, far too absorbed by the release of pain and pressure to be able to defend himself as John moved to his front. For the briefest of moments, John Cena's bulging shorts were right in front of Ben's face as he panted on his hands and knees. John bent over, and once again those hard arms, beautiful and wrapped in heat and sweat, slung around Ben's neck and he got locked under John's chest in another headlock. He tried to pull back, to headbutt the underside of John's pecs, arms reaching up to grab John's in an attempt to pry them open for escape. John's muscles, his pecs and the magnanimity of his huge arms were too strong. The hold was too tight.
Ben needed to pivot, he couldn't get completely obliterated, he had to make a move of his own. He could see John's tented shorts still as the both of them were bent over on their knees, and it made his mouth water. He reached his hand forward and, instead of trying to get those arms off of him, he did the only thing he could think of. The only thing he'd wanted to do for so, so long. If he could get John to cum early, he might have a chance. His hand reached forward and, in the most glorious moment of his life, even in the face of being dominated by the man of his dreams, he wrapped his fingers around the huge bulge in John Cena's shorts.
John was caught off guard, he even let out a moan before realizing that Ben was getting desperate to go for the dirty play. His dick throbbed and he almost thrust into the boy's grip, but he knew better; he wouldn't go out like that. He had to surrender his hold, arms instantly unlocking from Ben's head as he pulled his hips back and his cock head left Ben's grasp. He got to his feet and reached down to readjust his dick in his shorts, eyes creased with a devilish smirk down to Ben's exhausted face.
But in Ben's expression was a hint of triumph as well; he knew how he'd need to approach the match now. He was going to make John cum, then he was going to find a way in the aftermath to fuck his ass and cum inside. He wanted to win. He wanted to beat John Cena, or get fucked trying.
To counter the new confidence, with the same hand that had adjusted his rock hard cock, John reached up towards his face. His palm spread and the crowd went into a frenzy as he spread his fingers wide and shook his hand in front of himself. Ben could see that powerful smile between the fanning fingers, disappearing repeatedly as it waved. Ben knew what it meant, but he didn't let it demoralize him. He could see John just fine now.
Getting up, Ben didn't bother readjusting the tented bulge in his pants. He couldn't shake the new excitement building within him, and while he wanted to win, a deep part of his soul and his entire being wanted to submit eternally to the man in front of him. He wanted to be John's slave, to lick over those beautiful arms and legs, those huge pecs and abs, that throbbing dick he'd felt with his fingertips. He'd touched John's bulge; next was getting it in the flesh.
He wanted to try and take John by surprise, so as quickly as he could, he lunged forward and tried to get a punch in. He was punching up, so it never had much of a shot, but he had to try. Surprisingly, his fist came pretty close to John's chin, but right at the last second the man smirked and pulled his head back and away from the blow, reaching out and grabbing Ben's outstretched arm, turning it and twisting the boy over before throwing him down to the ground, bearing down upon him.
In the pin, he felt John's hands suddenly move and go down to his waist. He was exhausted, and his panting breaths couldn't rejuvenate him fast enough before he realized what John was doing. His jeans were unbuttoned, his zipper unzipped, and he felt John's hands dive in under his waistband before shucking his pants from his legs like the ears off a corn. The rush of air finding his now nearly bare legs made him gasp, and John got up from pinning him down, those jeans in his huge hand like a trophy; like the championship belt itself. Ben had been helpless to stop any of it, stripped of his pants.
John laughed and shook the pants in Ben's direction, his smile wide and eager as he stared down at Ben's helpless body. Ben curled his legs up a bit, only in his boxers and with a clear wet spot at the front where his hard dick was still throbbing. John even held the pants out for the crowd to see, to witness that dark spot at the front before he laughed again and slung the jeans out into the crowd. They cheered, the mass of gay hunks all lunging to try and grab the pants where they were thrown, a burly man with a mustache being the lucky man to claim Ben's bottoms.
