Subject: FIC: First Impressions 1/1 Date: Sunday, February 27, 2000 1:03 PM Title: First Impressions 1/1 Author: MsJingles E-mail: msjingles@angelfire.com Webpage: http://www.angelfire.com/ut/msjingles/ Archive: Yes for Erana's Place - anywhere else, please ask first. Rating: NC-17 Type: SLASH - that's MALE/MALE interaction folks - if it ain't your thang - don't go reading it and sending me angry letters. Keywords: Triple H, Shane McMahon Summary: How Hunter Hearst Helmsley came to join the WWF. Author's note: This is the first time I'm cross-posting the story to other lists, so sorry to those who get it more then once. ***This one's for you, Amanda! I know there's no X-Pac in it, but I'm working on that, and now you got to give me more Amandafic! *** =================== First Impressions =================== Hunter Hearst Helmsley's eyes didn't move from the display of numbers above the elevator when he heard someone come up to stand next to him. Instead, he watched the numbers illuminate from floor to floor as the elevator continued its slow but steady, descent down to the ground floor. If he looked, he might have to make idle chit chat as they waited; talk about the weather, or the Bulls, or some shit like that. He had enough on his mind. He had a quickly plummeting career to think about; and the knowledge that work was something he desperately needed right then kept him focused. Mentally, he went over once again what he would say to this Shane McMahon character in their meeting together. Shane McMahon. He rolled the name around in his head, let it sink in and fester. He wasn't even meeting the Big Boss, not Vince, just _Shane_. A son perhaps? A brother? Whatever, Hunter just wanted the job. Sudden movement from the man next to him made Hunter look despite himself and he watched as his younger companion shifted a heavy looking briefcase in his hand, while the other held a thick stack of papers. Cute, he thought distantly. Very cute in fact. Nice, sweet. Slightly round, dimpled cheeks were smooth and creamy. The skin begged to be touched and...sucked. His eyes were deep brown, his hair jet black. He was young, early twenties. Maybe younger, the suit added a few years of maturity to an otherwise much too innocent face. All around much prettier then he was use to or usually cared for. The elevator announced its arrival with a light *ding* and Hunter walked in first, and held the door open for the other man who was visibly juggling to carry everything. "What floor?" The young man blinked, looked up as if seeing Hunter for the first time. He offered a slightly abashed smile, "18, thanks." Hunter nodded, "That's where I'm going." More juggling, and some muttered curses. Hunter smiled. "You work here?" "Heh, yeah. You could say that. More like: 'Make and ass out of my self, drop things, then leave'. Um, hi - " an offered hand, "Shane. Shane McMahon." Hunter's hand froze briefly in the air on the way to meet Shane's, then catching himself he grabbed it in a firm shake. "Hunter Hearst Helmsley." "Oh. *Oh*. You're my eight o'clock then," Shane smiled. "Well, talk about your coincidences. I guess I lost the upper hand of looking cool behind my desk when you show up. Damn." Shane smiled to show that he was just joking and waved carelessly with his free hand. "And forget about that stuff I said about making an ass of myself and dropping stuff...I'm really very sauve, and cool-like." As if on cue, there was a dull thump as Shane's briefcase fell to the floor and he quickly scrambled to pick it up. A small, indulging laugh, and Hunter shrugged. "Hey, you don't have to play games with me, Mr. McMahon. You're the big cheese and I'm just the want-to-be-wrestler. I got it." "Please, call me Shane. My old man is Mr. McMahon'. And don't sell yourself short - J.R. gave me some very flattering comments about you, and it takes a lot to get a cynical old bastard like him singing your praises." Shane paused for a moment, stared down at the folder in his hands. "Usually he's the one that handles all the scouting duties, but Vince wanted me to have some experience in the field." Hunter nodded, brushed hair away from his face as he studied the younger man once again. He seemed oddly vulnerable in his Armani suit while at the same time completely charming. His obvious nervousness made Hunter want to lick his lips. The term 'Easy Prey' came to mind, which he quickly stomped down. If he didn't really need this job, Hunter probably would of been very tempted to make some sort of advance. But some things actually were more important then sex. Like eating for one. "Well, I'll go easy on you then," Hunter joked. More polite laughter was cut off when the elevator suddenly jerked and rattled. Then stopped. Shane's frown was a little jittery, he looked up at the dark buttons above the elevator door before turning to the wrestler, "What happened?" "We stopped," Hunter said, stating the obvious. "Um..." He hit a few buttons, but they remained dead. "Shit. I think we're stuck." There was a silence for a moment and then Shane's soft chuckle. "I was just about to say 'I can't be stuck, I have a meeting in ten minutes'." His eyes glinted with self-depreciating humor. "Well, provided we don't plunge to our deaths...I guess we're just gonna have to wait to be rescued." Hunter nodded, "Looks like." "...so then I came back and trained a few years in Greenwich." Unable to help a small grunt of amazement, Shane let his head fall back on the wall of the elevator. "I can't believe we practically grew up in the same neighborhood without knowing each other. Much less the same profession. Greenwich is hardly the hub of professional wrestling." Hunter shrugged slightly, "Oh, I wouldn't know about that. The McMahon Family works out of Greenwich, I know a lot of wrestlers who travel here just to meet you guys and try to get work." Shane couldn't argue with that. A strangely companionable silence fell between the two men as they sat on opposite ends of the elevator, their feet almost touching as they let their minds wander. They had been stuck together for some time now and no help, or sign of help, had yet to arrive. "Why'd you want to be a wrestler?" Shane finally asked, breaking the silence. "Is that an interview question?" A slight shrug, "Sure." Taking a moment to consider the question, Hunter paused in his answer, debating whether to tell the truth or give some corporate butt-kissing candy coated answer. He snuck a look at Shane's open, honest face and decided that the truth was the best way to go. "My dad's a gynecologist, my mom a lawyer. When I wasn't being pressured to be one or the other, it was always about living up to the Helmsley family name of high-profile socialites." Shane nodded as if he understood, and after a deep, searching look, Hunter realized that Shane probably *did* understand. Hell, maybe even better then he did. It couldn't of been easy growing up as the son of Vince McMahon. "At first I started wrestling in school to get some extra curricular activities under my belt for colleges and stuff, but then I *really* started to get into it. A scout from some gym that ran an independent fed was in the audience one night during one of our matches and he offered me some free lessons. I took 'em without telling my parents, figuring I'd just be satisfying my curiosity and nothing more, but they just made me love the sport more. So, next thing I know, I'm dropping the Ivy League crap and pushing ring rats around in the squared circle. "My parents nearly ripped me a new one over it, the old man especially was pissed that I wanted to be nothing but a 'lowly wrestler'. It made me want to succeed just as much in this business. So here I am." Hunter observed the man in front of him, the man that would decide the fate of his career - sink or swim. Such a pretty face. Lovely throat. He wondered what kind of body lay underneath the perfect suit, held back a shiver of arousal at the thought of slowly undressing the young businessman. The tie would be the first thing to go, it'd slide so nicely from around his neck. Shane's voice brought him back from his deep ruminations. "What?" "I said you're staring at me," Shane frowned, looked down at himself. "What? Do I have food on me? I ate a hot-dog before this meeting, I'm always messy with ketchup." So fucking young, Hunter mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. He found Shane's bumbling incredibly endearing. "How old you are you?" he asked suddenly, then quickly added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Caught off guard for a moment, Shane blinked and fumbled with his tie. "Uh, how old...how old do you think I am?" 19. Hunter chuckled, he knew Shane had to be at least twenty. He tilted his head slightly, made a show of pretending to appraise the younger man closely, felt delighted when Shane blushed. "20. 21?" "23," Shane smiled, ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should take up smoking or something - try to look more dignified." Hunter shook his head, let his gaze wander, "You look fine the way you are." Another blush and Hunter felt completely charmed, he smiled, maybe a little dangerously because young Shane seemed to shuffle slightly in his seat. Again, the option came to mind: honesty or candy coated? "Last guy I interviewed for a spot threatened to beat me up if I didn't give it to him," Shane admitted shyly. He looked up from beneath dark lashes, an innocent look that wasn't so innocent. "But you're a nice guy, right?" "The nicest." Hunter deliberately let his feet brush up against Shane's knees as he stretched them out to get comfortable. "So, tell me Shane-O, what's it like being the second most powerful man in the WWF? Must be nice to be able to boss us little people around." Shane shook his head adamantly, "Uh uh, no. None of that here, man. It's all on the straight and narrow - the wrestlers have creative control over their gimmicks, and we just do our best to provide a good medium in which to present the product. Er, the wrestling product that is. We want this to be a fun and safe environment for everyone. We try not to pull the 'corporate' shit around here." Hunter chuckled and continued to stare at the other man, "Nice speech, Shane. Sounds like you've used it a lot of times before." "I - I mean it. Really, the WWF - it's the best place you can want to work. Not to mention, we're the biggest and the best." A shy smile and he pointed to chest, "Okay, so you can't tell that by looking at _me_, but I'm learning as well." "What about Turner's organization?" Hunter asked seriously. "I heard that it's going to be big, and bigger then the WWF real soon. He's got enough money to do it, too." Eyes bright, Shane leaned forward a bit as he talked, "All right, given. If you go there, you'll get the big bucks. But think about this: which is more important to you? The money, or the wrestling? Because here you are guaranteed to get challenging opponents - not big name has-beens. You'll be pushed constantly, you'll better yourself, and the company you work for. We're a family here, and I gotta stress that point because we're all here to do good by each other. Even the people you're kicking the crap out of, you gotta have respect for. The WWF has four generations of McMahons behind it - we have put our heart and soul into this organization, our credentials stretch beyond limits that Turner's money can never buy. He might have some dough, but we have what it takes to rocket our superstars straight to the top." It was the first time Shane had managed to talk without stuttering or breaking eye-contact. His voice was confident, sure, and his eyes intense in their conviction. Hunter knew that soon Shane would be one helluva a business man, a man that people would want on their side. Holding his hands up in surrender, Hunter smiled, "Shane, you've convinced me." He raised an inquiring eyebrow, "Question is: have I convinced you? Do you want me aboard your fed?" A thoughtful expression, and Shane leaned back against the elevator wall, gave Hunter a long look before finally nodding. "If you want to join the World Wrestling Family - the job is yours." Relief made Hunter realize how tense he had been waiting for that very answer, and he knew it must of shown on his face but he didn't care. Let the kid know how much the job meant to him, he wanted him to know how happy he was. Hunter extended his hand, "Thanks, man, I won't disappoint you." Shane nodded, and accepted the handshake firmly, "I know you won't." "Good," Hunter didn't bother to let go of the other man's hand, "Because now I can tell you something I've been thinking about since I first saw you..." He heard the other man's breath catch in his throat as he crawled closer and brought Shane's hand up to his back and held it there to show how he wanted to be touched. "You're damn sexy, you know that?" "You trying to sleep your way to the top?" Shane chuckled, a little nervously - he was pressed up against the wall as far as he would go, "Because I gotta tell you, Hunter, I'm not - I'm not into... that." Looking thoughtful, Hunter spread Shane's knees apart slightly with his own, crawled in close so that he was straddling Shane's leg. "You ever been with another man, kid?" Shane visibly flinched. "No." "Then how do you know?" "I'm pretty sure it's one of those things you just *know*," Shane snapped. "Now get the fuck *off* of me before I reconsider my offer." Hunter knew that his new job was in danger but couldn't help but stay just where he was, especially when Shane squirmed so nicely. Besides, all of his instincts were telling him that Shane didn't really want him to move. Shane's leg moved up and rubbed Hunter's crotch, making the blonde wrestler shudder lightly in pleasure. "I think I like where I am." "You move fast, don't you?" Shane realized with some surprise that his hand remained on Hunter's back, holding him close without the other man's aid. "No first date? No flowers or wooing?" "I can woo," Hunter smirked, "I can woo with the best of them. Do you want me to woo you Shane? Is that what it'll take to get into your pants?" An audible swallow and Shane squirmed some more, thought 'fuck what am I doing?' and stilled when he realized how much Hunter was getting off on the movement. How hot it was making him, too. Suddenly, the small elevator seemed entirely too stifling, the air hot and moist. The idea of a kiss was becoming way too appealing and Shane wanted to be back in his office where temptations like this didn't exist. Hunter never would of done this if they had been in his office. A slight rustling and the blonde wrestler was positioned in between Shane's legs -- a hard, tight fit that made Shane's breath catch once more in his throat and for Hunter's to become deep and even as he leaned in and nuzzled the soft curve of neck presented before him. Shane moaned at the feel of wet lips trailing a line around his throat, bucked when Hunter's mouth sucked on his Adam's apple. But when Hunter moved away and leaned in for a kiss, Shane swallowed hard and pulled back, his head thudding lightly against the elevator wall. "Stop." Hunter drew back reluctantly, and cast Shane a slow, long look. Made a point to glance back at the hand that still lay possessively on his back. "Is this a case of do what I do and not what I say?" When Shane didn't answer, Hunter reached around and hugged Shane close, and before the other man could protest again, captured his mouth in a long, wet kiss. Lips were soft and lush under his and Hunter moaned inwardly, not remembering the last time he had felt lips as nice as these. It was hot, and his mouth tasted so good. Hunter nibbled at Shane's bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, tasted it with the tip of his tongue. Shane's hand clenched a bunch of his leather jacket and he sat compliant as Hunter continued the assault on his mouth. When the kiss broke, both men were breathless, and Shane felt as if his whole body was heavy with pleasure. His hands trembled and he looked up into the other's man's deep hazel eyes, licking his lips to feel their numbness. "We can't do this in here, this - this thing will start moving any minute now." "You're probably right," Hunter chuckled. He let his hand cup the side of Shane's neck, ran his thumb over the fluttering pulse underneath the smooth, pale skin; then quickly replaced his hand with his mouth, sucking and kissing alternatively. He let his other hand roam low, and between their bodies, until it was cupping the younger man's cock, stroking gently but with growing urgency. Hunter watched as Shane's eyes fluttered shut and he groaned, his lips parted as he bucked his hips into the strong, warm hand. Dark lashes batted against a pale cheek and Hunter leaned in again to capture another kiss, pushing his tongue into the warm mouth, and bringing the other man in closer to him. The hand on his back dropped and then moved hesitantly between them. Hunter groaned softly in encouragement, shifting his hips in an effort to feel more friction against his aching cock. He wanted to get his jeans off, to fuck Shane McMahon right then and there, but at the same time he didn't want to let the other man go long enough to do so. Moving awkwardly, a little unsure with the strangeness of both making out with a man, and doing it with a relative stranger, Shane stroked him lightly underneath the thin fabric of his black t-shirt. He touched a rock-hard stomach that seemed to flex and move underneath his hand, the muscles straining, and then moved it up to the chest where he rubbed a nipple and pinched it lightly. The sudden aggression took Hunter by surprise and he sucked breath, his hips thrusting harder, and he bit down on the soft pillow of Shane's lower lip. If he didn't stop now, he knew he would never be able to. Planting a last, needy kiss at Shane's lips, Hunter drew back, moving away as quickly as he could without making it seem like running and regarded with growing fondness the look of innocent confusion on Shane's face. "Wha..?" "You're right, we - we can't do this here," Hunter swallowed and tried to ignore his arousal. "Shit, trust me...oh fuck I want to but..." To prove the unsaid point the elevator lurched unexpectedly, and with a distant boom of returning power started to move. Hunter and Shane looked up simultaneously before gazing at each other once again. "Good thing we stopped," Shane offered weakly, straightening his clothes and standing. "That wouldn't of been a very good way to start off your career here." Hunter smirked, his eyes flashing in a way Shane would see many more times in years to come. "Shane, if it's one thing I'm good at it's first impressions." ****End