Hour of the Wolf

American Gladiators 2008: Hour of the Wolf.
Chapter 1: Every Dog Has His Day

Wolf pulled himself out of the pool. He shook most of the water from his dripping mane, and turned away from the camera. All eyes were on Evan Dollard, the young contestant that who seemed unbeatable. Wolf was pissed. He’d been the kid’s rival since day one, and the audience had been hanging on their evenly matched bouts. This time around, the rings were too much, and he had fallen only a few seconds into Hang Tough, giving Evan a free run to the other side of the pool. Wolf sulked away from the crowd, fleeing backstage to avoid a post-event interview with Laila Ali. The spotlights did not notice him; they simply collected on Evan, the blonde upstart.
He didn’t bother leaving his dressing room for the Pyramid, letting Toa go in his place. Finally, the stage director and physical trainer convinced him to reappear for the final event, Wall. As usual, he was set against Evan. Wolf tried to put on his usual show, but was unable to come up with any witty dialogue. He remained silent and half-heartedly nipped at Evan’s heels as the professional climber easily scaled the foam-rubber cliff-face. Before the announcers were even finished rambling off the point awards, Wolf had pushed past Militia to sulk backstage. He sat in the cast gymnasium, leaning back against a shelf of medicine balls. Several hours later, Toa burst into the gym.
“Hey, Wolf, they need you back out on set, we’re shooting the sign-off. Where the hell have you been?”
“Just needed some time alone,” Wolf replied, his voice gravelly and hoarse.
“Whatever you say, boss, but the producers are pissed, they’ve been looking for you for half an hour. You’re boy Evan won.”
“My boy?”
“You know, like, your rival or whatever, I didn’t mean like…”
“Of course you didn’t. I think you and Militia have been spending too much time looking up each other’s skirts.”
“Hey fuck you Hollywood.” Toa laughed and helped the ex-wrestler to his feet. They hurriedly walked to the set, taking positions behind the winning competitors. The gladiators were stoic, holding body-builder poses in the background, while Evan and Monica beamed at the audience.
Minutes later, after the cameras were off, the producers were on Wolf.
“What the fuck was that, Hollywood?”
“What, I made it out here didn’t I?”
“Were the instructions ‘stand still, look fierce’ too complicated for you?”
“What are you talking…”
“Do you generally make a habit of patting your rivals on the shoulder?”
“I don’t…”
“You’d better keep your game up for the tryouts next season, or you might be back to wrestling bums in Arizona.” Wolf remained silent while the producers stalked off. Evan looked over his shoulder, mouthing an apology to the gladiator behind him. Wolf ignored it, stalking back to the gym.

***

“I was wondering who was in here.” Evan’s voice was soft and quiet, not the voice of a gladiator.
“I’m not looking for company, kid,” Wolf replied sternly. Evan ignored the warning.
“You normally work out alone in dark rooms?”
“I said git boy!” Wolf snapped. “Go sign some fucking autographs.” The light in the room was tinted red from reflecting off of the foam padding covering the walls and floor. It painted Wolf’s animalistic expression the color of blood and death. His snarling lips revealed a row of sharp white teeth, instantly giving away the origin of his name. Wolf had stripped off the top half of his gladiator outfit, and his torso was glistening with sweat. He clutched an iron weight in one massive hand, pumping it with a rapid rhythm that intimidated and impressed Evan. His own gladiator spandex left little to the imagination, the red fabric tightly wrapped around his sleeker form. Evan found himself feeling very exposed; and shrunk back into the doorway, seeking the warmth and light of the hallway outside.
“You weren’t yourself out there, tonight.” Evan began again. “It’s like you didn’t even try.” He chuckled softly, “Did you let me win, or what?” Wolf sighed, his anger fell. Evan was not here to mock him.
“I don’t let people win.”
“Then what was it?”
“My wife…It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Come on, let me buy you a drink, we will be working together after all.” Wolf nodded and slowly rose to his feet. After they changed, he followed Evan outside, and they hailed a cab.

***

Wolf slid onto a derelict bar stool, Evan taking a seat beside him. The bartender did not recognize either of them. Even though shooting was done, the show wouldn’t air for several weeks.
“Welcome to Bitter End, gentlemen. What’re you drinking?” The bartender was a shocking replica of every cliché sud-slinger Wolf could imagine. He wore a button-up shirt with rolled up sleeves, had a shaved head, and a portly physique. He had a filthy black apron tied around his waist, and an equally dirty white towel slung over one shoulder. His tired face seemed to say, “Tell me your story.” Wolf couldn’t help but play into the theatrics of the whole thing.
“Whiskey,” he said, holding back a snicker, “Leave the bottle.” The bartender nodded solemnly, either used to the humor or oblivious to it. Evan ordered a screwdriver, and pulled his wallet from his jeans. The newest gladiator threw a few bills onto the wood counter, and they remained silent until the bartender had left their drinks and wandered away to seek out more charitable customers.
“So,” Evan began in again. “Tell me about your wife.” Wolf saw that arguing would be useless.
“Are you married, Evan?”
“No,” Evan said, with no hesitation. “Never considered it.”
“A guy like you, you probably get a lot of pussy.” Evan began to protest, but Wolf spoke over him. “It all changes when you get married. I know, I know, everyone says that, but it’s true.” Wolf threw back a shot of liquor and began refilling his glass. “My wife is into chicks, and at first, you know, I thought that was great, but I got to tell you, it just ain’t as much fun when you’re just watching.”
“So you mean you don’t…”
“Not anymore, no. And last night, I got a call from her.” Wolf threw back another shot. “The bitch.”
“What, what is it?” Evan seemed concerned and frightened, all at once.
“She’s leaving me for her girlfriend.”
“Wolf.”
“Fuck it.” They drank in silence a while longer. Within the hour, liquor had loosened their tongues, and the atmosphere had taken a change for the better. Evan and Wolf had grown to respect each other throughout the competition, and that respect quickly turned to friendship. Close to 1:00am, some other patron had dropped a few quarters into the bar’s archaic jukebox.
“Shall we dance, Mr. Dollard?” A very drunk Wolf was swaying in his barstool, beaming at the young gladiator.
“Why Mr. Yates, I had no idea you danced.”
“I don’t these days, but we both made it through that damned show with our jobs and our dignity in one piece. I’d say that’s cause for celebration.”
“In that case, I accept.” Evan helped Wolf off his stool, and they slowly bobbed and weaved to the dance floor. Admittedly, Evan was far more sober than he was letting on, but he wanted Wolf to have a good time, he wanted to try to help Wolf forget his wife. He let Wolf’s muscular arms guide him on the dance floor, and tried to hide his reaction when the surprisingly graceful gladiator’s strong hand fell on his hip. A broad smile cut across Wolf’s face, parting his thistly beard. Like an expert getting back on his feet for the first time, Wolf’s skill grew with each passing song. He twirled Evan back and forth, hips swaying the way only a cowboy’s can. Wolf ended the last song behind Evan, holding him tightly around the waist. Evan could feel the bulge of Wolf’s package against the curve of his ass.
“Oh!” Wolf mumbled, as if alarmed. “Music’s over.”
“I guess so. Hey, come with me.” Evan swallowed his fear and dragged Wolf to the back of the bar, eventually shoving the gladiator into the unisex bathroom, locking the door behind them.
“What’s all this then?” Evan shushed him, placing his fingers onto Wolf’s lips. He thought quickly, afraid to ruin his chance.
“Consider it a consolation prize.” Evan fell to his knees, bringing a sizeable lump to eye-level. He pinched the cold metal zipper carefully, pulling it down as slowly as possible. He almost thought that Wolf would stop him if he could hear what he was doing. Evan’s heart pounded in his chest. He held his breath and reached into the folds of Wolf’s jeans. Evan grasped the organ inside, and looked up at Wolf’s face. The gladiator towered over him, but a look of dazed enjoyment filled Wolf’s expression. He simply leaned against the tiled wall, hands behind his head.
Evan pulled Wolf’s cock free, immediately intimidated by its size. Evan closed his eyes -- he couldn’t back down now -- and parted his lips. He froze as his pouting mouth made contact with the head of Wolf’s cock.
“Shari.” Wolf moaned, his eyes closed, his head swaying from side to side. Evan decided that this was not the best time to correct him. Evan opened his mouth, and let the swelling cock enter it. A low grumble escaped Wolf’s chest. Evan responded by reaching up with both arms. He placed his hands on Wolf’s muscular chest, running them down the length of his body. His delicate fingers traced lines across Wolf’s abdomen, ran in circles around his hips, and clutched limply at his legs. Evan reached behind the man, sliding his hands under the waistband of Wolf’s jeans. He held Wolf’s ass, pulling himself forward to force Wolf’s cock into his throat. Evan whimpered when Wolf’s cock twitched, his face flushed with effort and lust.
Wolf shifted, dropping one hand onto the top of Evan’s head. His fingers rustled for a grip in Evan’s cropped blonde hair. Evan winced at the pain as Wolf’s fingers closed, but put it to the back of his mind. He pulled his head back, fighting against Wolf’s grip, to slide his lips across the length of Wolf’s cock. Once its head was at the tip of his tongue, he licked slowly at it. Evan let Wolf’s grip guide him again, letting the entire length reenter his mouth. Wolf moaned; now sober enough to recognize what was happening, but not sober enough to know who was involved. His body seemed to shudder and tighten as Evan swallowed his cock, his hips bucking at the warm, moist pressure. Evan’s hand left Wolf’s back to wrap around the base of Wolf’s cock. He squeezed gently, massaging the swollen organ with his index finger.
Evan felt a sudden tug, as Wolf pulled him from his cock.
“I can’t do this,” Wolf said. “I can’t do this to Shari, especially not with you.”
“She’s cheating on you.”
“I don’t care. And I’m not gay.”
“You don’t have to be gay.” Evan leaned forward, but Wolf pulled him back again.
“Hollywood Yates doesn’t have sex with men.”
“Hollywood doesn’t,” Evan smirked, “But Wolf might.” While Hollywood struggled with that logic, Evan pulled from his grasp and wrapped his lips around Wolf’s cock. Wolf groaned, despite himself, and gave in to Evan’s advances. Evan turned his head, giving Wolf’s cock a better angle to penetrate him with. The first several inches of Wolf slid into Evan’s throat. Evan closed his eyes and thrust his head back and forth, allowing Wolf to fill him.
The gladiator leaned against the cold brick of the restroom wall, trying to justify his actions. This was just a scene for the show, just another event for Wolf, the gladiator. Hollywood Yates, actor, wrestler, rodeo participant, was not here anymore. Wolf had no cheating lesbian wife, he had no sexuality to maintain, no reputation to worry about. Wolf was getting his cock sucked by a twink in a filthy bar bathroom, and that was OK. Evan’s tongue twirled along the underside of Wolf’s cock, tracing circles and spirals along its length. Wolf grumbled, Evan felt his knees quake, and his muscles tighten. Evan leaned back, letting Wolf’s cock fall from his throat into his mouth, and he worked his tongue around the sensitive head. He sucked gently on the organ, stroking the exposed shaft with one hand. Wolf reached down to hold the back of Evan’s head softly, a gesture that embarrassed and pleased Evan.
Wolf leaned on Evan’s shoulders as his strength began to give out. The younger man supported him easily, and darted his tongue to run its length around the head of Wolf’s cock. The sensation was enough to finish him, and Evan’s mouth was filled with hot liquid. He swallowed, and waited for Wolf to finish. Finally, the gladiator’s body relaxed, and he slid down to wall to join Evan on the floor.
“Do you think you could get used to that, Wolf?”
“I think I can certainly try, Little Red.”
“That’s all I ask.” Wolf left the bathroom first; he strode quickly out of the bar, got in a cab, and left for his hotel. Evan left ten minutes later, paid the bar tab, and stepped into the cold night air. He thought he had taken Wolf’s mind off of his troubles, and was glad to have done it. He only hoped that he would be able to stop before going any further. He knew nothing good would come of it.