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They were dirty. Despicable really. Pinning each other against walls and hotel mattresses, biting each other's neck and chest, begging to get caught. Begging for the world to know that they were still obsessed with each other no matter how hard they pretended not to be.
Rhea didn’t feel bad. She didn’t care that he was still with Liv. Really, this was Liv’s karma, and deep down she knew with a snap of her fingers that he’d ditch the blonde in a heartbeat and come running back. If she’d let him.
She didn’t want that though. Nope, not at all. This was sex to her. That’s all it was. A release of frustration and an excuse to feel close to him again.
An amusement every time he whined as she pulled away from him and left his hotel before he could sucker her into falling asleep in his arms.
An amusement every time he gave her those eyes, begging her to snap her fingers and free him from Liv and Judgment Day. Begging her to give him a solid place to land.
Begging her to start the conversation of why it all happened and let him speak.
Instead, she waved. Instead she dipped. Everytime. Reminding him of all he’d let go. All he’d never have again.
Dom knew this. He knew what she was doing, but he also knew that every time she’d left, she’d lean against the door and take a deep breath.
He knew the sigh of contentment she’d let out in the brief moments that she did let him hold her. The light in her eyes that returned as he whispered in her ear and told her that he could never touch anyone else in the ways he touched her. When he told her that no one could ever touch him like she had. The light in her eyes when he’d “accidentally” let Mi Amor or Mi Vida slip.
The pride in her voice when he’d called her after winning the Mega Championship. The sniffle, she’d covered with a cough and an excuse about allergies.
The way she’d called him her double champ. No one else's.
He was on cloud nine. The happiest he’d been since she’d gotten injured last year and everything spiraled.
But…he knew it was only a matter of time. He knew that eventually Liv would be back and everything would return to how it was.
The first time Rhea brought it up, he’d been trailing kisses down her stomach.
“Heard Liv is doing well…might be back before Rumble.”
He froze, looked up at her and waited. Hoped that the next words out of her mouth would be “Leave her. Come back to me.”
They hadn’t been. Instead, she’d gestured for him to move. Pulled her shirt down.
“I wouldn’t know.” He’d finally said, sitting back on his knees where he’d been perched between her legs. His hands rested on her thighs like they were his emotional support blanket.
“Good to know your communication hasn’t gotten any better.” He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a jab. Or if it was a joke.
Rhea wasn’t sure either.
She just knew that there was this weird feeling in her chest at the idea that this would be coming to an end and that no matter how hard she tried…she didn’t know how to communicate this.
She didn’t know how to let herself be weak in front of him. Not anymore.
So instead, she pulled him back down with her legs and flipped them over.
They were usually careful…at least somewhat. It was mostly for Rhea’s sake. Her reputation…Dom not wanting people to think she was a hypocrite or have a reason to speak negatively of her.
But, one Monday Night, Rhea had been particularly frisky. Particularly needy and had given him eyes in catering. She’d chuckled as he choked on his energy drink and then brushed it off as a delayed response to some joke Punk said. Iyo looked at her suspiciously but didn’t question it.
Dom had made a point to sneak off, telling Finn he was going to get ready for his match. Rhea had left a few minutes after, saying she was going to touch up her makeup.
They ended up in a supply closet, pants down, Dom huffing and puffing because Rhea told him he couldn’t kiss her and mess up her makeup. Rhea messing up her makeup anyway because she had a hand over her mouth.
She’d heard it first. Raquel’s voice, followed by Liv’s…static and loud from a phone speaker.
“I don’t know where he is! Finn said he was getting ready for his match.” Raquel was annoyed, like she’d already been looking for hours. It’d only been ten minutes. She shoved Dom lightly. He looked at the door, shrugged, then went right back to kissing her neck.
“Well, find him…we talked about this. You need to watch him! He’s not talking to me.” Rhea rolled her eyes. She’d heard that before. Dom took that moment to bite down. She practically squeaked.
“What was that?” Raquel asked. Liv sighed and told her to stop getting distracted and keep looking.
When they were finished, Dom was adjusting her clothes, wiping her mouth, wiping her teeth, brushing his fingers through her hair…and for a moment it felt like nothing had ever changed. That they were still the same people they were back then. Him taking care of her and her pretending she didn’t need him to. That she was the one who took care of him.
A few weeks later, when they were fresh out of a shower and still standing in the bathroom. He’d pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her torso and trailed kisses from her neck to her shoulder.
“Is it time?” He’d murmured against her skin. Her stomach dropped. She didn’t know what he meant. Was he saying it was time for it to end? Was he saying that this was another goodbye? That he was back to playing the loyal boyfriend to someone else, a role he couldn’t play for her?
She went stiff. He’d noticed. He’d looked up and was staring at her in the mirror. His brows were furrowed, concerned.
She panicked and pulled away from him. Her breathing had picked up as she scrambled to gather her clothes.
“Mami.” She didn’t hear him. He tried again.
“Mami.” She pulled on her shorts, scrambling for her shirt. She’d picked up his instead, throwing it over her head and letting it swallow her.
“Rhea!” She froze, crossing her arms over her body to hide her shaky hands. She finally turned toward him.
“What?” It wasn’t supposed to sound so scratchy and pathetic.
He stepped closer.
She retreated, slipping on her slides.
“I should go.” She moved past him…reaching for her phone on the dresser.
They didn’t talk for a couple of weeks and she went back to avoiding him backstage. After three ignored texts, Dom had given up. She didn’t want him to.
She didn’t even text him after he lost to John Cena or got a hometown rematch at Survivor Series.
When Liv walked out during his match, she got tunnel vision. Her chest sank.
AJ asked if she was okay. She nodded and smiled and said the mask fumes were getting to her.
Afterwards, she’d ended up in a random hallway, trying to find a quiet place before she had to change.
She found the opposite.
“What the fuck was that?” She heard Dom shout.
“What do you mean, I helped you…”
“I didn’t ask you to. This was my hometown match. I didn’t need any of you.”
“Dom, Mate. Calm down!” JD added. Finn was oddly quiet.
“Did the match card say John Cena vs The Judgment Day? No. It was John Cena vs Dominik Mysterio.”
“If we didn’t help you would have lost!” Liv said. “You saw what happened when no one helped.”
It went quiet. She could hear Dom’s breathing from the other side of the wall.
“That’s not the point. Whatever…I’m going back to the hotel. I need some space.”
“We have the post show!” Liv called after him. He ignored her.
Rhea hid, watching as he stomped away. His shoulders were slouched. He didn’t look like a man who had just won against the greatest of all time.
So, she found a Padres jersey.
All Dom wanted was to be left alone. Okay, not left alone. But he only wanted one person's company, and she wasn’t speaking to him. And he didn’t know why.
Instead, Liv had did exactly what he didn’t want. She’d followed him back to the hotel room and clung to his arm.
“Daddy Dom, I know you didn’t mean that…”
He nodded. Didn’t speak. Let her ramble as he scrolled through his phone. Fuck. This was his life, and it was his fault.
He was about to lock his phone when he got a notification. Rhea had posted a story.
He clicked, his mouth went dry.
Her in a mirror, Padres jersey on. Legs bare. He licked his lips. This was for him. He knew it.
“Fuck.” He said aloud.
“Huh?” Liv asked. He froze, not even turning to look at her.
“Whatcha looking at?” She popped her lips, trying to look over his shoulder. He locked his phone.
“Um, I gotta step out for a few…” And then he was in the hallway fumbling with his phone like a pathetic man. He was pathetic.
Dom: You dirty, dirty woman.
Mami: Saw my story? A friend let me borrow his jersey.
His? His? WHOSE PADRES JERSEY WAS SHE WEARING?
Mami sent a photo.
Fuck.
Dom stared at the photo until his vision blurred. She was sprawled across hotel sheets, the jersey riding up her tattooed thighs, that smug little grin on her lips. He zoomed in, then out, then zoomed in again like a teenager. This was a game to her.
His phone buzzed again.
Mami: You mad?
He laughed out loud. Three weeks of silence, and she was asking if he was mad? He was mad. He was so fucking mad. Mad that she could do this to him with a single photo. Mad that he was standing in a hotel hallway like a kicked puppy, waiting for her to throw him a bone. Mad that Liv was probably already wondering where he'd gone, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
Dom: You're wearing another man's jersey? Another man’s PADRES jersey?
Mami: It's just a jersey.
Dom: Whose is it?
Mami: …
A pause. He watched the three dots bounce, then disappear, then bounce again.
Mami: Wouldn't you like to know?
He nearly threw his phone against the wall. Instead, he typed back, fingers moving before his brain caught up.
Dom: Tell me.
She sent a photo of a ceiling. Then another of her hand, middle finger raised. Then:
Mami: It's Jey’s. He said I could keep it.
His blood ran cold. She was lying. There was no way.
Dom: You wearing it to bed for him?
Mami: Maybe.
Mami: Or maybe I just like how it smells like someone who actually respects me.
That one hit. He leaned against the wall, dragging a hand down his face. She knew exactly where to twist.
Dom: That's low, Rhea.
Mami: Is it?
He waited, but she didn't send anything else. He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the call button. Fuck it. He pressed it.
She picked up on the second ring.
"You're supposed to be with your girlfriend, Dom." Her voice was all lazy and taunting and diabolical.
"I'm exactly where I need to be." Or he was about to be when she gave him her room number. He kept his voice nonchalant. "So whose jersey is it, really?"
A beat of silence. He could picture her on the other end, biting her lip, deciding whether to give him the truth.
"Whose jersey is it?" He repeated.
"You first," she said. "Answer me something. When you walked out of that arena tonight, mad as hell, who'd you wish was waiting for you in that hotel room?"
He didn’t even know how she knew about that.
His jaw tightened. He could lie, say Liv, keep the game going. But three weeks of silence and one photo of her in that jersey had already stripped him bare.
"You know the answer to that."
"Do I?"
"You're the only one I ever want waiting for me."
Another pause, longer this time. He heard her exhale.
"It's mine," she finally admitted. "I bought it tonight. Wanted to make you squirm.”
He laughed. "You're evil."
"I know.”
"Send me your room number."
"Why? So you can do what, Dom? Come play with me for an hour until guilt eats you alive?"
"I don't feel guilty."
"Uh huh."
"I don't. I don't feel guilty when I'm with you. Never have. Never will.”
She went quiet at that. He heard sheets rustle, imagined her shifting in that jersey, the fabric riding up her thighs. His mouth practically watered.
"Room 1030," she said.
He was already walking.
She heard his footsteps in the hallway a little before he knocked, the pause outside her door (that in her mind made her think he was still deciding. That he wasn’t sure.) She sat up, suddenly hating how stupid she looked in this jersey, how desperate she must seem, how easily he'd come running the second she'd dangled herself in front of him. How she’d left the door unlocked for him. The knock came. She didn't move, didn't get up, just waited until the door swung open, and he stepped inside. He closed it behind him, leaning against it like he needed the support.
Men were too easy.
He took her in, appreciated her, and then stepped forward.
His eyes kept moving to the jersey to the way it hung off her shoulder to the way the fabric had ridden up her thighs.
"So, you bought it tonight," he began. "Just to mess with me?"
Rhea tilted her head, letting the silence stretch.
"Messed with you, didn't it?" She spread her legs just slightly, watching his gaze drop. His mouth fell open, but he didn't move. He just stood there. Then he laughed, shaking his head.
"You're something else, you know that?"
His knees hit the mattress, and he leaned over her, caging her in with his arms.
"Buying a jersey just to get me riled up.” He hummed...
"Did it work?"
"Obviously." He dipped his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
She didn't answer. Just tilted her chin up, letting her lips ghost over his jaw.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes searching hers.
“You ever gonna tell me why you stopped talking to me for two weeks? Or are we just gonna keep pretending this is casual?"
Her jaw tightened. She looked away, and he caught her chin with his fingers.
"Look at me." He waited until she did.
She held his gaze for a moment. He couldn’t see what was going on in her mind. Then she moved, and she was the one on top, straddling his hips, pinning his wrists above his head.
He didn’t get any answers. Instead, he got more.
He avoided Liv outside of work. In front of the camera, he kept forcing it…kept forcing his feelings that didn’t exist. Acted like nothing was wrong. Kept the producers happy. Kept creative happy. Everything was wrong.
He was getting sloppy. That was the problem. Dom knew it. His eyes kept drifting across the arenas during tapings, looking for a flash of black hair. He started taking the long way to catering, hoping to bump into her. He almost responded with Rhea's name during a promo instead of Liv's, catching himself at the last second.
And tonight, Liv saw it.
They were backstage after a match, Liv perched on a crate, watching him with that scheming smile. Dom was supposed to be paying attention to her, nodding along to whatever she was saying about the Rumble, but Rhea had just walked past the production tables. She was in her gear, hair long and down, talking to Iyo and Stephanie, laughing at something one of them said.
Dom's eyes followed her. Just for a second. Maybe two.
But that was enough.
"Dominik." Liv's voice was sweet, too sweet. "You keep staring at her…people might get the wrong idea.”
He snapped his head back, forcing a smirk. "What? Nah. I was just checking out her new tattoo.” He’d been up close and personal with that tattoo a few days ago.
"Uh huh." Liv's smile didn't reach her eyes. She pulled out her phone, tapping away. "Sure."
Dom felt a cold sweat at the back of his neck. He laughed, loud and forced. "C'mon, Güerita. You know you’re the only woman I'm looking at."
She didn't glance up from her phone. "I better be.”
That should've been the end of it. Dom thought it was. He went back to his hotel that night, texted Rhea from the bathroom while Liv showered, got another photo of the ceiling and a middle finger in return. Normal. Fine. He fell asleep next to Liv, another night of successfully avoiding having sex with her.
Liv didn't say a word about it the next morning. She was all smiles, playing the supportive girlfriend, letting him pick the breakfast spot, asking about his schedule that she didn't really care about.
But the week passed without incident. RAW came; they did their segment. Dom played the part. He kissed her forehead. He held her hand when the cameras were rolling.
By Monday of the next week, everything had gone to hell.
Dom hadn't been there for the start of it. He’d been tracking down his gear bag that a production assistant had misplaced.
Rhea had been silent for two days. Not unusual. Not proof that anything was wrong.
The first thing he heard as he was walking backstage was a crash.
"You wanna talk about it, Liv? Let's talk about it!" That was Rhea's voice. Dom's blood went cold.
He took off before he could think.
The scene that greeted him was chaos. A cluster of wrestlers, trainers, and production assistants had gathered. In the middle of it, Raquel had Liv shielded behind her, blood dripping from Liv's split lip. Raquel looked worse. Her eye was already puffing up, and she was favoring her left side. They both had knots on their foreheads. Like their heads had been banged together.
Rhea stood opposite them, chest heaving. Her hair was a mess, sticking to the sweat on her forehead. There was a small gash on her knuckles, and she was clutching her shoulder with her other hand.
Part of Dom's brain registered the shoulder first. The way she rolled it like she was testing the range of motion. That was the same shoulder she'd injured last year. The one she'd had to rehab. The thing that started all of this.
He ran.
He ran straight past Liv, who was spitting blood onto the floor. Past Raquel, who had straightened up.
"Dominik..."
He didn't even slow down. He was already in front of Rhea, hands out, hovering.
"Rhea. Hey. Let me see." He was frantic. He reached for her shoulder, careful, so careful, and she let him. She just stood there, looking at him with wide eyes, like she'd been caught doing something wrong. Like they’d just exposed themselves or…Dom had exposed them.
He didn’t care.
The whispers started.
He couldn't care. All he could see was Rhea.
"Can you move it?" He asked, his voice dropping, just for her. "Rotate it for me. Slow."
She did, wincing like she was scared, and he watched the movement carefully. He could tell it was sore, but it didn’t look damaged.
He exhaled.
"Dominik." Liv's voice buzzed in his ear. "What are you doing?"
He didn't turn around.
"She attacked us," Liv continued. "Out of nowhere. We were just walking by, and she went crazy. Raquel tried to protect me and look what she did."
Dom had finally turned his head, just enough to see Liv standing there, hand pressed to her split lip, tears threatening to spill. She looked small. Vulnerable. Like the victim she was painting herself to be.
And Rhea stood behind him, still silent, still breathing hard.
Liv had done something. Liv had said something. Liv had pushed and pushed until Rhea snapped, because that's what Liv did. That was her game.
Rhea shoved past him, and bolted. Ran. As fast as she could.
His hand hung there, reaching for nothing.
"Dominik." Liv's voice was soft, but he could hear the tone under it. Her fingers wrapped around his arm, nails digging in just enough to sting. "Don't you dare."
He didn't think. He yanked his arm back so hard Liv stumbled, her nails raking nothing but air.
“Don't," he said. Then he was moving down the hallway after her.
"Dominik!" It was sharp and ugly now, all pretense dropped. "Come back here!"
He didn't look back. He couldn't.
Rhea was fast, but he was faster, and his legs were longer. He rounded a corner and caught a flash of black hair disappearing.
"Mami, wait." His voice cracked. Pleading now, no pride left in him at all. "Rhea. Please."
He found her at the end of the corridor, backed against an exit door. She wasn't running anymore. Her chest heaved, and there was something in her eyes when they met his.
"Go back to her," she said, breathless. "She's waiting for you."
He didn't stop walking until he was right in front of her.
His fingers found her chin, tilting it up gently. She flinched but didn't pull away, just watched him with those pretty blue eyes.
"Don't," she whispered, but her voice had lost its toughness. "Don't do this to me right now."
"Do what?" He kept his voice soft. "Tell you the truth?”
She shook her head. "Don’t.”
"Then tell me what I'm supposed to say." His thumb traced her jawline. "Because I've been running on autopilot for the past year, Mami…Playing the part. Smiling when I'm supposed to, touching her when I'm supposed to, and now every single second I'm counting down until I can get back to you."
"Stop." Her voice cracked, and she finally looked at him. "You chose her. You left me in that ring, and you chose her."
"And I've regretted it every day since." He said it plain, no excuses. "I was scared. Of you, of us. I was scared you’d realize I wasn’t good enough, that all I’d ever be was in your shadow or holding you back. And I took the easy way out. I've been paying for it ever since."
Her hand came up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, holding on. Then, she sagged against him.
"You should go," she said, but she didn't let go of his wrist.
"I'm not going anywhere. I’m tired of pretending. I don’t care about her, I don’t care about any of it. All I want is you.”
He wanted to kiss her. It was stupid and the worst possible timing, but her lips parted when his gaze dropped, and his whole body leaned into her.
He pressed his forehead to hers.
"Let me fix it. Just tell me how."
She was quiet, her fingers tightening around his wrist. When she finally spoke, it was quiet.
"Start by meaning it.”
"I do."
"You don't know that."
He leaned back. Her eyes were softer now.
"Mami, I've spent months lying to everyone. To her, to Finn, to the whole world. But I'm not lying to you. And I never will again. I’ve been waiting for you to say it’s time. To tell me we can be together again.” She opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps cut her off.
The footsteps grew louder, and Dom felt Rhea tense beneath his hands. He didn't pull away. He pressed his forehead back to hers.
"Dominik." Liv's voice came from behind them. "What the hell is this?"
He felt Rhea try to pull back, try to put distance between them, but he caught her chin again, kept her eyes on his.
"Don't," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. "Don't run from me again."
“Dom." That was Raquel, her voice flat with disbelief. "What are you doing?"
Dom finally turned, but he didn't let go of Rhea. He kept one hand on her waist, pulling her with him as he faced them. Liv stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
Raquel hovered behind her like a guard dog.
"Go away, Liv." His voice came out calmer than he felt. "We'll talk later."
"Talk later?" Liv laughed. Scoffed. She stepped closer, eyes flicking between the two. "How long?"
Dom didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence said everything.
Liv's face twisted, the mask slipping completely. "Are you serious? This is what I get?”
"Don't." Rhea cut her off. "Don't you dare play the victim.”
Liv turned on her, lip curling. "You attacked me! You jumped me and Raquel in a hallway, and you're telling me not to play the victim?"
"You did something to her," Dom said. "You always do something to her..."
Liv's mouth opened, closed. For once, she didn't have a comeback.
And that's when Dom made the choice.
He turned back to Rhea, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her.
She made a small sound against his mouth, startled, but then her hand came up to grip his shirt, and she kissed him back just as hard.
Somewhere behind them, Liv made a noise like she'd been hit. Raquel was saying something, but Dom couldn't hear any of it. All he could feel was Rhea's mouth on his.
He pulled back just enough to breathe and whispered, "I mean it. Every word."
"Dom." Liv's voice had gone quiet. That was a first. "If you walk away from me, it's over. Everything. The group. Us. Finn's going to lose his mind. You know that, right?"
He didn't turn around. "Then it's over."
"Daddy…"
"Don’t call me that." He snapped without looking back. "I'm done pretending."
Liv made another sound. A scoff. He heard her footsteps retreating down the hallway, quick and uneven. Raquel lingered a moment longer, then followed.
Dom felt Rhea's fingers loosen against his shirt, heard her exhale.
"You really did it," she whispered.
"I told you. I'm not taking the easy way out this time." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth.
She let out a shaky laugh. "You just blew up your entire life in front of the two worst witnesses."
"Yeah." He pulled back. "And I'd do it again."
She stared at him for a second and then stepped into him, tucking her head under his chin. He wrapped both arms around her, careful of her shoulder.
"You still need to get that checked," he murmured into her hair.
"It’s just sore."
"I'm serious. No arguments."
She laughed against his chest, muffled and tired. "Look at you. Getting bossy."
"Someone's gotta take care of you," He hummed. "Since you're so bad at it yourself."
She didn't argue with that. She just held on tighter.