Guys, it's done. This is the last chapter and I hope that you'll enjoy it.

Come meet me at the end of this chapter if you're interested in some more SheaPunk ;)

Epilogue

Sitting down on one of the many boxes which were standing in the backstage area at the gorilla position, Phil wiped his face with a towel while still trying to catch his breath. He'd just had a match against Stephen and that match had been... it had been, erm... different. More of a... foreplay. Starting out with Stephen coming down to the ring to interrupt Phil's segment, wearing a pretty tight fitting shirt that he peeled off of his body as if he was the star in a strip show. Slowly, making sure his muscles were flexing as he stretched and...

Jesus fuck. Goddamn sexy bastard.

And then that smirk, stretching his Irish man's kissable lips and Phil had no other word for it than naughty. Now add that mischievous twinkle in the baby blues and there you have a perfect opener for a foreplay. But that hadn't been enough, no. Stephen had made sure that there was enough body contact. Phil couldn't remember a match with so many groin to ass contacts, so much having hands all over his body. Ever. And for sure there had never been someone whispering dirty little things into his ear. The pin attempts, too. More like a of trying out new sex positions than anything else.

Who would have guessed that Stephen was this... horny? Oh well, actually Stephen wasn't the only horny one in their relationship but in the middle of the ring? Naughty. And then Stephen's scent and fresh sweat... it had taken him all his will not to sport a boner out there.

He'd lost to Stephen, just how it was scripted. After a pin missionary style and a hissed you and me... shower while punctuating the referees three by bucking his hips ever so slightly, he'd made his way backstage to wait for his man, who took his time celebrating his win before Big Show went out to interrupt him by beating up his pale Irish ass.

Phil swore to himself that Stephen would pay for this match.

But to be honest, he hoped that it hadn't been the last foreplay match because... he'd never felt so thoroughly fucked without having fucked at all.

Really, it left him so horny and goddamn needy that he couldn't wait to get his hands on this oversized leprechaun. In the shower. Just like his lover had suggested while millions of people had been witnessing it without actually knowing about the soft porn talk between them. It would be a long shower, too, that he was sure of. Probably long enough for them to grow webbing between the fingers.

Christ, what this man made him think.

Snorting into his towel, he rubbed it down his face and stared at the entry to the arena.

An oh so soft smile tugged at his lips as his mind decided to wander off to this very morning. A hum climbed up his throat as his body remembered it, too, gracing him with the memory of gentle fingers brushing loving circles on his skin. It was so vivid that he could have sworn that Stephen was right here with him, caressing his back and shoulders...

Calm twilight, surrounding him. It was peaceful here and warm. Cozy. Softness was there, too, touching his neck and shoulders. His face. Like caresses, ghosting over his skin. Cinnamon... and a voice, speaking to him words sweet as honey...

Stephen...

Slowly he drifted towards the beloved voice, the twilight getting lighter as he emerged from it. A firm softness... pressed along his body... and softness cocooning him. Touches wandering over his back, drawing aimless but loving patterns.

His name was being whispered, the accent heavy even in that barely there sound and hot breath flowing over his ear, tickling the short hair in the back of his neck as he felt arms pulling him in a little tighter, holding him firmly pressed against a broad chest. With a hum he tried to get even closer, humming as he felt a kiss being dropped to the top of his head. Sneaking an arm around his lover's middle, he sighed in contentment and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"Morning," Stephen murmured, placing another kiss on his hair. "Did yer sleep well?"

"Mmhyeah," Phil breathed into the other man's chest.

Though his brain was still on parking position, the memory of the past night was sitting on the co-driver's seat of his mind and for a cold second Phil felt like this had to be a dream. A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, causing his eyes to fly wide open and maybe he'd even tensed up a little, because he felt Stephen's caresses falter briefly and his hold on him got even firmer. Involuntary Phil did the same, tightening his hold on the other man as if he could vanish into thin air.

But... the body under his touch was real. Stephen was real and this wasn't a dream, he was really here with him in this bed and...

Wait. Bed?

"Phil?" Worried. Stephen sounded worried. "Phil, you okay? What's wrong?"

His memory jumped back to the last saving point. Load. Play.

They had been on the couch and he'd been fucking Stephen's hand and then Stephen had told him to get some rest. On that couch.

"Bed?" Wow, eloquent, are we? "How...?" he added, pulling back a bit to seek for those eyes which looked at him in the most beautiful of ways.

"Yer've been so fast asleep tha I didn't wanna wake yer," Stephen smiled, brushing a few stray hair out of Phil's face before kissing his forehead. A soft kiss. "I carried yer up here." Another kiss, a goddamn loving one. And the fact that Stephen had carried him to bed made him smile like an idiot. "How are yer feeling?"

Like a lovesick puppy.

"M'feeling good," Phil whispered, gently pushing at Stephen's shoulder to roll him onto his back. His lover let him have his will, pliantly following the unspoken request. "Can't remember having ever felt this good actually," he admitted quietly, speaking nothing but the truth as he climbed on top of the big man, settling down and resting his head on the broad chest with his ear on the spot above Stephen's heart.

Arms came up around him immediately, holding him close, holding him safe while he listened to the heartbeat of the other man, its rhythm slow and steady and his own heart fell into step. This was new and good, so very good and perfect yet in a way it was not new because everything about Stephen was familiar, wasn't it?

"So... you carried me, huh?" he mumbled.

Thud. Thud. Thud...

"Couldn't let yer sleep on the couch all night," he heard him hum. A brief moment of silence. Then: "Would carry yer to the end of the world if necessary..."

And while once more those arms around him tightened their hold, he could hear Stephen's heartbeat getting a bit faster while his own heart stumbled at the statement that itself wasn't much spectacular... it was the way it had been spoken, so softly yet rich with sincerity and heavy with determination.

His heart missed a few steps again as he locked gazes with the man he loved, finding those three words written in the baby blue, bright and shining...

Blinking slowly, Phil returned to the here and now. Smiling. There was a wide smile plastered all over his face and he was probably looking love struck dopey as he sat here, staring into the recent past.

God knew he would have given his right arm to stay right there in this bed with Stephen, the whole fucking day and the night, too, but eventually they needed to crawl out of their nest. It had been John and Randy's guest room after all. The expression on their faces when they finally came down to the kitchen... really, he'd seldom seen an I told you being written so clearly on someone's face. And then... smirks. That very moment he knew that they had heard their little live action on the couch.

And there had probably never been a chance or a universe in which Randy would not have put a bowl of cereals in front of their noses with that smug expression in his eyes while dropping the comment that they sure were needing a little strengthening. Brat.

While the breakfast had been great, it had been equally annoying that Stephen and he didn't have much chance to use the day for being lovebirds because they had to get their asses to the company much too soon. Thing was they didn't want to make their new status public yet. No kissing, not even touching.

Well... no touching except Stephen molesting him in the middle of the ring. He was sure that when he was going to re-watch their match later, that he'd see nothing more and nothing less than a soft porn.

Shaking his head slightly, he snorted a soft laughter that got lost though in the sound of a voice he had no interest in hearing it at all.

"Punk," that voice addressed him, its owner stepping up at his side.

Lesnar.

Things the world didn't need, like Lesnar trying to play his weird game again. Phil didn't look up, staring straight at the gorilla position. Maybe ignoring would help making him leave.

Yeah, right. As if that had ever worked.

For a second Phil pondered if it was a good idea if he just got up and left but that was probably the worst idea possible. Lesnar would follow him, that he was sure of, so staying here in the middle of half of the company until Stephen joined him was the plan. The worst that could happen was that Lesnar mocked him until his ears bled.

"Congrats to the gayest match in wrestling history," the other man scoffed while wrapping tape around his wrists.

Usually Phil would have objected now and pointed out that the masters of gay wrestling were Randy and John, because really, John's face and Randy's crotch had been happily married long before the two men only remotely considered being more than just friends. It didn't mean though that he would admit it here. The last thing he wanted was talking to this man or acknowledging his presence at all.

And so he kept his eyes trained on the entrance. Shouldn't Stephen be here already? Casting a quick glance around, he looked for someone else he could go to, preferably John or Randy or best, both his friends.

"You were pretty eager to get your ass close to his dick, huh? Last time I saw you, you seemed as if you wanted to kick his ass, not him having yours."

Pursing his lips, Phil tried not to shoot back with... whatever. Something. Oh well, ignoring was obviously not his best disciple. Keeping his pursed lips pressed together tightly, he slowly stood, still not gazing at Lesnar, but just as he wanted to walk off and towards the entrance to the arena, a hand closed tightly around his shoulder, holding him back.

"Let go," was what finally made it past his lips, lowly but sharply spoken as he tried to pull his shoulder out of the hold.

Without much success. Instead he found himself being turned around to face the other man. A smirk on his face and smugness in his eyes was what greeted Phil. And suddenly the hand was gone and Lesnar went back to taping his wrists.

"Is this turning you on, Lesnar?" he asked, wiping over his shoulder with the towel, before throwing it over one shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm just having some fun, Punk," Brock replied, the expression on his face never wavering. "It's amusing to see you run off with your tail tucked in."

He was about to bite back when he noticed Brock faltering in taping his wrists and looking at something behind Phil. The smugness faded with the smirk. And maybe it wasn't something... but someone. Only a second later Stephen appeared at Phil's side. Looking over to his lover, Phil found him still panting hard and all sweaty, the milky skin painted with slightly reddened marks, the cheeks flushed and his hair tousled. Actually he was the picture perfect post sex image.

If it hadn't been for the shadow that was cast over Stephen's eyes.

"Thought I've made myself clear, Lesnar."

Stephen's voice was bordering on a growl but what made Lesnar back off was the fact that Stephen took a step towards him and maybe it wouldn't have been only that one step if Phil's hand, being placed on the Irish man's belly, had stopped him. The blond man held his hands up in a peace offering but Phil could have sworn that even now it was mockery lying in the gesture.

"Lesnar just stopped by to tell me how much he enjoyed watching our match," Phil said, leaving his hand right were it was just to make sure this wouldn't escalate and also because it was a nice place for his hand to be.

"Not as much as the two of you obviously enjoyed it," Brock snorted, lowering his hands while eyeing Stephen and him warily. "Is his ass nicely tight, Farrelly?"

There was pressure against Phil's palm as Stephen shifted his stance, leaning forward a little as if he wanted to pounce on Lesnar. Instead an arm was slung around Phil's shoulder and a smile grew on his Stephen's lips. A sharp, dry and dark smile, as dark as the shadow that lingered over the baby blues. A threat. And a promise.

And then Stephen gently steered Phil away and towards the locker rooms without another word.

"Thought you'd never get finished out there," Phil complained half-heartedly after they had walked a few meters, glancing over to his friend.

"M'sorry," Stephen apologized although they both knew he'd just done his job out there.

"You know that I'll make you pay for the show you pulled in our match, Farrelly, don't you?"

Phil watched as the threatening expression vanished from his lover's face, being wiped away by the naughty smirk and the mischievous twinkle returned to the beautiful blues.

"Tha's what I hoped for."

The arm around his shoulders pulled him a little firmer against his Irish warriors side and fingertips ghosted over his upper arm accidently, it all in the disguise of a companionable gesture between two buddies. There was the intoxicating scent of fresh sweat and Stephen and the barely there touches of Stephen's digits brushing over his skin left a tingling in their wake and fuck, never had the way to his locker room seemed longer...

Only a few minutes that had felt like hours later water was falling down on them like warm summer rain, swallowing their muted sounds like a living soundproof wall. Heat washed through him as he felt a throbbing hardness press against his hip and with a sharp hiss he pressed against it, trapping his own aching cock between their bodies. More, he needed more but then again was there ever enough Stephen?

His name was a low growl on his Stephen's lips, matching his own groan that wrapped around his lover's name. Hot lips on his neck, sucking, marking him... teeth, grazing soft skin and an eager tongue soothing it... hands on his hips, sliding down to his thighs... fingers, digging into the think muscles there in a way that almost screamed MINE... Phil's arms wrapped around Stephen's shoulders as those hands lifted him up easily, his legs circling the thick waist. He faintly registered the coolness of the tiles as his back made contact with the wall but it was the burning gaze of those beloved baby blues that sent a heavy shiver throughout him. This gaze, it was cocooning him.

Nine months. Probably the longest foreplay in history and there were moments when he wished that it hadn't taken them so long to get from he and I to this perfect us they were having now but then there were moments when it felt that missing even only one of those moments before would have been a big loss because it all, it had formed this unique bond between them.

It was Stephen's lips brushing along his that broke through the thoughts which were tumbling around in his head. It could barely be called a kiss but it was enough contact for Phil to feel the smile that was playing on his lover's mouth.

"Where are yer?"

"Just been thinking about how lucky I am," he smiled back.

Phil more felt than heard the other man hum, the low sound vibrating, seeping into him where their chests touched.

"I am the lucky one here," Stephen disagreed then, stealing another peck from Phil's lips while rolling his hips tentatively, causing sparks of heat in his southern regions.

Bastard.

Lifting a hand up to run his fingers through the wet copper before cupping the back of the other man's head, he sighed inaudibly and rested his forehead against Stephen's.

"I love you, Stephen," he said softly and felt a subtle change in the form body that was pressing against him.

The way Stephen was holding him, it seemed less hungry. Instead it felt like... like pure love.

"And I love yer," Stephen replied, his voice firm yet soft at the same time and somehow, somehow every single time he heard those words made his soul fly high above the ground... more and higher than he would have ever thought they could.

This firm body against him and those strong arms which were engulfing him... Stephen made him feel safe and like having arrived at a place that he hadn't even been aware of that he was searching for.

Finally he was... home...

- End -

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Also for those who want some more SheaPunk: it's Bambi and Biscuit time again! Next I'll continue with Lifeline and I hope you'll drop by and say hi to the boys :)