Take It To The Limit

“More.”

“It’s one of the first things we learn. Mom gives us a little cookie or a fruit snack, our baby brains go crazy, we start banging on the high chair ‘cause we don’t have the word yet for what we’re feeling. Nowadays parents teach the sign for it, so when those little fingertips come together they know exactly what the kid wants.”

“More.”

“Once we learn our words, we realize that idea can cover more things. We make requests. We make demands. Snacks. Toys. Screen time.”

“More.”

“In our teens we start using it on other people. We want independence from our parents. Money from our jobs. Time from our friends. A little bit of action in the back seat. And when we get that, what do we always want?”

“More.”

“Every step of the way, others push it on us. They show us shiny new cars, big houses, fancy clothes. They make us want what we don’t have, just so they can sell it to us. And we never stop to wonder what the point is, because in our hearts we already know.”

“More.”

“Some folks never outgrow that mindset. They spend their whole lives kicking, screaming, throwing tantrums until everything in the world is handed to ‘em on a silver platter. Funny how many of that type end up in our line of work. Can’t throw a rock without hitting some loudmouth jackass who thinks the world owes them something and they’re gonna raise hell until they get it. Whether or not they do, they’ll be out there on the next show, making demands all over again. Doesn’t matter what; in the end they all want the same thing.”

“More.”

# # #

Quiet.

Calm.

Peace.

They were in short supply lately.

Nate Colton’s life had been a whirlwind since the Tropical Turmoil lineup came out. The number of interviews, photo shoots, and autograph signings had easily tripled, which ate up most of his free time and even threatened to cut into his training regimen. Not that Colton would allow that–his workouts had become even more intense, considering his opponent.

A man who was arguably the most accomplished wrestler of the ReVival era. Who took special delight in choking opponents into unconsciousness. Who undoubtedly knew about his noise sensitivity, after the earplug fiasco in the Hanlon match. And who already had a massive hate-boner for the New Diamond, even before Colton made a point of pissing him off.

Good job, Nate.

For his lone rest day before Tropical Turmoil, he just wanted a moment of tranquility…because God only knew when he’d get another one.

This is amazing

Fully submerged, isolated from the world around him. Free from pressure, from demands.

The moment could not last, and was all the more beautiful for it.

He broke the surface, taking in a lungful of salty air. Waves pushed him closer to the beach, and unlike so much of his professional life, he chose not to fight against the tide.

Costa da Caparica was absolutely idyllic–beautiful beaches set against brilliant blue waters, just a little bit south of Lisbon. The perfect place to spend a day off…so perfect that a lot of other people had the same idea. The beach was packed with humanity; locals and tourists, adults and children, sunbathers and surfers and everything in between. Still, a crowd provided its own kind of isolation. Most of them were too focused on their own relaxation to pay him any mind; they probably didn’t even know who he was.

“NATE COLTON É A CADELAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Most of them, anyway.

Nate ignored the shout, refusing to confirm that he was either Nate Colton or A Cadela. He didn’t have to understand Portuguese; he’d heard the same cadence enough times in English, Welsh, French, German, Spanish, Catalan, and somehow Bulgarian.

Fuck you very much for that, FLAMBO

Besides, he got more welcome attention as he picked his way through the beach blankets and umbrellas toward his own base camp. Nate saw a few heads perk up, a few pairs of sunglasses come down. Famous or not, he was still a handsome young man clad only in swim trunks that clung to his thighs. He could hardly be surprised if people looked at him like a steak that just came off the grill.

Nate didn’t acknowledge any of them, either. There was only one person on this beach whose attention he wanted, and she was right…

Shit.

He scanned the beach for a bright pink umbrella. He thought he saw one in the distance, but there were a lot more obstructions than when he went into the water.

I couldn’t have drifted that far. God, how long was I out there?

“Nate! Over here!”

Colton wheeled around and saw Kohime Mori waving to him, about thirty feet in the other direction. Even with her sunglasses, she was obvious from the sheer amount of pink she wore, from her one-piece bathing suit to her flowery sarong to the band on her sun hat. The Posse would approve.

“Ahh!” he hissed. The dry sand seared his feet with each step, driving him forward until he reached the shade of their umbrella. He sat down on a striped beach towel and brushed off his feet.

“The water is incredible, ‘Hime,” he said. “Want to join me?”

“Maybe later,” she said as she laid back down. “Right now I’m enjoying the sun!”

“OK, but you’re missing out.” The Atlantic was an entirely new experience for Nate, and he felt a stirring in his soul to return even though he’d only been out of the water for two minutes. “I might go back in pretty soon.”

Mori smiled at her beau, amused at his retriever-like excitement, but made no move to leave her towel. She merely slid her left foot back, raising her knee and causing the split in her sarong to fall on either side of her leg.

“Actually…I could use a bit of sun.” Nate picked up a nearby bottle of sunscreen and applied it to his chest. As he did, he looked at Kohime…and saw her looking back, just like others on the beach had done earlier. Their eyes met, and she smirked a little…but she didn’t look away.

When they first started spending time together, Kohime could barely look at him. Now she was looking at him…like this.

Shame we’re not at one of the nude beaches–nah, Savannah Scandal’s probably waiting with a waterproof camera and a snorkel

“What should we do tonight?” he asked, capping the bottle and dropping it back into the sand. “Not that I’m in a hurry to leave.”

“I thought maybe we could…stay in?”

Oh?

“Oh?”

“Well…Miss Ria is in America, so I’d just be in our room by myself. Or I could come over, and then…”

She trailed off, almost as if she couldn’t bring herself to say exactly what she was thinking. But there was a look in her eye, and a slight blush spread across her cheeks. He knew exactly what that meant.

It means a big-ass Dune-lookin’ worm with Skye’s face jumps out of the sand and eats me, I fuckin’ hate this one, the tongue always goes right up my

He closed his eyes and waited for his certain devouring, complete with tongues in unwelcome places and agonizing pain that would only end when he finally woke up.

# # –

“...Nate?”

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes again, suddenly finding himself…still on the beach, completely undevoured, and lying next to Kohime…who looked a little more worried than she’d been before Nate tuned out.

“I love that idea,” he said, smiling as he caught back up with the real world. Relief flashed in her eyes, and she sidled closer and planted a kiss on his cheek…then another one just below his ear, giggling softly as she did.

Jesus babe if you do that again we won’t make it to the hotel

“You need some more sunscreen,” she said, reaching beyond Nate’s head to grab the bottle. “Let me get your back.”

Nate dutifully rolled over, folding his arms and laying his head across them. He shivered as a dollop of sunscreen landed on his back, but that tension melted away as soon as she started rubbing it into his skin. Her hands were strong but gentle, providing a blissful massage along with protection from UV rays.

Dunno what I did to deserve this…but if I ever figure it out, I’m gonna keep doing it

“Thanks, babe,” he said, the words escaping his lips almost like a groan as he rolled onto his side. “You probably need some too. I can get your legs if you want.”

“I can do that myself.”

“I know…but do you want me to?”

Kohime blushed again, but didn’t go as fully red as she used to. Instead she looked down, and started untying the knot at her waist.

# # #

“I admit, it feels good to catch a break now and then. But some people seem to catch their share and then some. I try not to let it bother me ‘cause that’s life, and there ain’t a promoter born who can see a mouse without thinking, ‘I’ll give him a cookie; I’m sure it’ll work out this time.’”

“To your credit–and this is the one you get, so I hope you appreciate it–you don’t make so many of the demands yourself. But you’re more than happy to let other people do it for you, ain’t you? And why not–after all, you’re FLAMBERGE! You’re God’s gift to Jesus! Why shouldn’t you get to jump right into a title shot while everyone else grinds themselves to death in the Almasy? Why shouldn’t PRIME do a show in your hometown instead of Berlin, or Rome, or Athens, or a dozen other places? And after all this company has given you already, why wouldn’t they also hand you the only thing that makes you happy?”

“More.”

“Jealousy? Maybe a little. But honestly, most of what they give you…you can keep it. All I’ve really ever wanted is what I’ve earned…but after two years of busting my ass against the best wrestlers in the world, I’d like to think that includes a little bit of goddamn respect.”

“But even that’s too much to ask, isn’t it? ‘Cause you can’t bear the thought of me having a single thing to my name. Why else would you walk into London bitching about me being behind you in some bullshit ranking, then turn around two weeks later and talk like I don’t even matter? Miss me with that shit.”

“I knew I had to rattle your cage a little…and you made it really easy with your Necks Like Pokémon bullshit. That’s how we got your full-blown tantrum in Barcelona, complete with a whole new set of motivations. Now I’m the last thing you need to unfuck your life, or something…honestly, I don’t think you even know why you want this. Or what you want at all, except…”

“Well. You get the idea.”

“The FLAMBERGE of last year was on another level, start to finish. I would have loved that fight…only, that guy disappeared right after he won the Uni. Since then, all we’ve had is this self-important douche, high on his own glue. Expecting the whole world to bow down and kiss his ass. Whenever he talks, I can only hear one thing, over and over.”

“More. More. More.”

“Miss me with that shit too.”

“I ain’t your stepping stone, or your fresh start, or a sacrifice to the altar of your greatness. I am Nate By God Colton–here to fight the Ace, not some entitled toddler in a man’s body. So don’t you dare waste my time. If you spend so much as two seconds counting your necks or daydreaming about Brandon Youngblood, I will embarrass you.”

“You come correct to Lisbon, or you stay the fuck home.”

# # #

Nate sat on the bed, looking fresh in his green shirt with the floral pattern, smelling great with the new cologne Kohime bought in Paris. Constantly checking his phone for messages or his armpits for sweat.

He hadn’t been this nervous since his first time: a fumbling, awkward affair that both parties agreed never to speak of again. Just like that night, he felt like this needed to be special.

No, this wasn’t his first. But it was hers.

A hand rapped lightly on the other side of his door. Nate took a deep breath to compose himself, then opened the door…and quickly decomposed again.

“Uh…hey.”

Those were about the only words he could manage. Kohime obviously wanted to make this a special night as well, and dressed for the occasion. Her maroon dress clung to the contours of her body, sparking a race between Nate’s imagination and his libido.

She looked, in a word, stunning. Nate was, in a word, stunned.

“Hey. May…may I come in?”

He stood aside, allowing the young woman to make her entrance while desperately searching for words that wouldn’t make him sound like a goober.

“You look amazing, ‘Hime.”

“Th-thanks. You look really good too. That shirt brings out your eyes.”

They stared at each other in silence, and Nate watched the desire build in Kohime’s eyes. No doubt she saw the same in his own.

They silently agreed to drop pretenses. No point in calling room service; they knew what they wanted.

Nate broke the stalemate, stepping forward and pulling Kohime into a tight embrace, savoring the warmth in her body, the taste of her lips.

“I’m…new at this. To this. I don’t…”

Nate allowed her to step back, but gently held on to her hands. “It’s all right. We’ll take things easy…I’ll lead the way, but nothing happens without your permission. You can say yes or no to anything…and if you feel uncomfortable or just want to stop, we will. All right?”

Kohime nodded, then said, “Yes,” almost as an afterthought.

“Okay. Do you want the lights on or off?”

“...Off, please.”

“Music?”

“...No, thank you.”

He turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

“I can hardly see you!”

“Should I turn it back on?”

“No…I like this.”

The padding of footsteps, as one walked back to the other.

“May I kiss you?”

A demure giggle.

“Nate, you kiss me all the time.”

“May I kiss you?” The question was more insistent, not for a result but for an answer.

“Yes, you may.”

The subtle friction of silk on cotton. A soft bonk of foreheads meeting.

“Ow!”

“Sorry…it’s really dark. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay…let’s try that again.”

A soft kiss. Another.

“Mmmm.”

More kisses, trailing down the neck and across the shoulder.

“That feels so good. Can I…do that to you?”

“Please. Should I unbutton my shirt?”

“No…let me.”

A rustle of fabric. A kiss, and then another. A satisfied exhale.

“Would you like me to bite you? Not hard, just a little bit.

“Really? Is that a thing?”

“Sometimes. A little bit of pain can feel good.”

“...I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Then I won’t.”

The dance of consent. Granted for some things, rescinded for others. Hearts beating faster.

“May I unzip your dress?”

“Oh…umm…oh-okay…”

Hands reaching behind and touching shoulders…but not a zipper.

“Nate? Why aren’t you–”

“You didn’t sound sure.”

“I…I do. Please.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

A slow metallic ripping, a sharp intake and an almost inaudible squeak. A garment falling to the floor. Exploring hands and heavier breathing.

“Is this all right?”

“Yes…oh, yes…should I…”

“Do it.”

The rattling of a buckle. Another zipper, another discarded garment. The click of an undone clasp; hands roaming freely.

“Just a second.”

Padding footsteps. An opening drawer. The crinkle and tear of a foil wrapper.

“Would you like to help?”

“I…I–”

Breathing that becomes faster, ragged.

Scared.

“Wait!”

One pushing the other away. Another sharp breath, marked by chagrin rather than anticipation.

A body turning, punctuated by a soft whump.

Teeth clamping down on a frustrated tongue. Hard.

“I’m so sorry!” she said, her voice muffled. “I just–-just–”

Kohime practically gulped for breath, and Nate went through a massive shift in priorities in a matter of seconds. He moved to the bed where she’d thrown herself and put his arms around her. He coaxed her into a seated position, though she brought a pillow with her that now wedged between them.

“Shhhhhhhh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He rocked back and forth slightly, hoping that she would move along with him.

“I tried to…but then…then I couldn’t…”

“‘Hime…it’s all right, I promise.”

“I got so scared,” Kohime whimpered, finally moving with Nate as he stroked her hair. “You must think I’m such a baby…”

“Never,” he said, gently resting his forehead against hers. “I was scared out of my mind, my first time. Most people are, I think. Everyone treats it like it’s this huge deal…it’s easy to get overwhelmed. You were doing great…but you didn’t feel right, and that’s okay.”

“I just wanted to make you happy tonight…”

“You always do, ‘Hime. This other thing…it’ll happen when the time is right. When you’re ready. And if that takes a month, or a year, or it never happens at all…it won’t change anything. I will still love and care about you.”

Kohime finally relaxed her grip on the pillow. “That…helps. Thank you. Do you mind if…if I spend the night anyway? Just to sleep?”

“That would be great.”

The slip of sheets as they peel away from the bed. Bodies coming together for a different purpose. Not as intense, but still very pleasurable.

“I love you, Nathan.”

“I love you too, Kohime.”

They shared another kiss, then she nestled her head against his shoulder and caressed his chest with her left hand. Just as on the beach, Nate was amazed at how her touch could be so strong and delicate at the same time.

Deep, relaxing breaths, falling into a shared rhythm.

Drifting thoughts. Stillness and comfort.

A sigh, breaking the syncopation. The tensing and release of muscles, building resolve, mustering courage.

A shifting hand.

“‘Hime?”

“Yes?” she whispered, her breath hot in his ear.

Her hand now brushed against his stomach, her fingers lightly tracing a line around one abdominal muscle, then another. Her hand shifted again…

“You don’t have to–”

“I know. I…want to.”

A soft kiss, just behind his earlobe. A small tug of elastic.

“Do…do you want me to?” she asked.

The question was hesitant.

The answer was not.

“Yes…”

# # #

“More.”

“It’s the only idea you understand. The only concept that fits in your mind. The word that defines you, more than any other.”

“Well, I know another word. A stronger one.”

“I know it’s stronger, because none of you selfish pricks can bring yourselves to say it. First you’d have to acknowledge that other people aren’t just toys for you to break or prey for you to devour…and wouldn’t that just kill you.”

“No, you’ll never say it. That’s why I have to…and I will.”

“You’re about to hear it loud and clear at Turmoil, when I give you the fight of your life…and nothing else. You can bitch and moan and hold your breath, you can yell the one word you know all you want, and it won’t do you a damn bit of good.”

“That will be the day that someone finally tells you…”

# # #

Quiet.

Calm.

Peace.

They hung over the darkened hotel room…but only half of the bed.

Kohime Mori was sound asleep, her breaths slow and soothing.

Nate was entirely unsoothed.

He stared into the angry red digits of the alarm clock. The stiff lines burned into his retinas, lingering as afterimages when he closed his eyes.

Not that he was brave enough to do that. He knew what–who–waited for him.

It won’t be like that anymore, he thought. It won’t fix everything, but it should at least take the edge off.

But the words felt flat in his head; any semblance of comfort crumbled and dissolved like a clump of sand between a child’s fingers.

There was no sense in lying to himself. Illusions are useless in the dark.

After all Kohime had given him–not just tonight, but through their whole relationship–he still carried her in his heart, just like the year-old playbill in his travel bag.

A burden so heavy that he couldn't put it down. So painful to hold that he didn't dare let go.

Am I so fucked up that I can only love someone who walks all over me? Proves at every turn that she doesn't give a shit?

Kohime is gorgeous and sweet and thoughtful, she's a genuinely good person, she's not going to disappear without a second fucking thought 

Why can't I be happy with that? 

It should be, it should be MORE than, but it isn’t…

why

isn’t

this

# # #

“Enough.”