A/N: First in a series of companion pieces for Under Your Spell. I would suggest reading that first, but I don't think it's necessary. This, I hope, can stand on its own. Also, I know I have NXT storylines/dates a little skewed, but… I needed it that way to fit my plans. So I'm sorry, but not really sorry. Heh. Hope you enjoy. :)

Open Your Eyes

A Companion to Under Your Spell

In all her weirdest and wildest dreams – and she'd had some doozies – Sophia would never have been able to imagine Paul Levesque in her little apartment. She had so few visitors. In fact, since Dean had up and moved to Vegas, no one aside from her landlady had visited. She opened the door, mind scrambling to recall what she had done that would warrant a visit from the boss.

He was going to fire her. She could feel it, despite the warm smile he gave her when she stepped back to let him in. Then she remembered previous releases within NXT. They'd all taken place in the morning, and as far as she knew the word had come from either Dusty or Regal. Never Triple H himself.

Which must mean that she'd done something really bad.

Keenly aware that she was wearing an old t-shirt with several holes and her favorite pair of cut-off pajama pants, she closed the door and willed her heart to beat normally. Despite the time, he was wearing tailored slacks and a crisp dress shirt, making her feel even more slovenly.

"I interrupted your dinner," he said. Standing in the center of her living room, he looked at the solitary plate and glass of wine on her cluttered coffee table.

"I just finished," she assured, reluctant to tell him that she'd finished eating a couple hours before. She would have taken the dishes to the sink but the book she'd been reading had been too good. Opening her mouth to invite him to sit, she saw with horror that he couldn't. She ducked around him, gathering up the pile of clean towels that needed folding. Muttering an excuse under her breath, she walked over and nudged the bedroom door open with her hip, dumping the towels on her unmade bed. Then, spying the stain of marinara sauce on her chest, she went further into the room and whipped off the offending t-shirt, replacing it with a clean one. Drawing in a few deep breaths to compose herself, she reentered the living room and curved her lips into what she hoped was a polite smile.

He was sitting, elbows resting on his knees, one hand clutching the book she had just finished. "This has been on my to-read list for a while. Any good?"

"It drags the first few chapters, then it really picks up. I just finished it right before you got here." He leaned back when she approached the couch and, not about to ask him to move over, she stepped over his thighs and sat next to him. When he nodded and reached to set the book on the coffee table, she cleared her throat. Maybe he wasn't there to fire her. But what else could it be? He was the boss, and she had never heard of him dropping by for a visit with other members of NXT. Unless he did and it was just a well-kept secret.

"You've been doing really well," he announced.

"But?"

"What? Oh, no, no buts. The fans have accepted you, and I was told earlier that they're still talking about your match with Charlotte last week on Twitter and Facebook."

Sophia smiled, her fears of getting sacked beginning to fade away. "It was just as much Charlotte as me—"

"I know. She's making her debut on Raw next Monday."

"Is she? That's so great!" Sophia reached for her phone, and, remembering it had died, instead picked up a tube of lip gloss. She would call Charlotte tomorrow to show her enthusiasm. There would probably be a viewing party at someone's place. As many of the NXT crowd that could got together to chow down and watch the debut. She'd have to check with Bayley. Or Sasha.

"But now there's the question of the title."

True, Charlotte was the NXT women's champion. Smoothing lip gloss over her lips with her finger, she wondered who they would give it too. Probably Bayley. It was definitely her time. "Is there going to be one of those tournaments for it?" she guessed, imagining Charlotte vacating the title when she made the jump from NXT to the main roster.

"No, she'll hold onto it until Brooklyn."

Sophia went still, thinking of the huge show planned. Recalling the memo Dusty had given her, demanding her presence, she blinked. More than a few of the roster had been told not to go, to save on travel and other expenses. Surely not…

"We were going to put the belt on you in Japan. But Dusty wanted to hold off, because he didn't want your win overshadowed by the main event. I agreed with him, because I know that a title match between you and Charlotte should be the main event, and—"

"I'm getting the title?" she squeaked, dropping the tube of lip gloss and whirling around to face him.

She'd never noticed how bright his brown eyes were. Looking into them, she saw them soften, and faint lines appeared at the corners when he grinned. He obviously understood how much his news meant to her. His hand came up and lightly patted her cheek. "Yeah, you are. You're ready for it."

"Oh," she breathed. Her first thought was that she had to let Dean know. But her phone was dead and even so, he was probably neck-deep in strippers' tits. Needing to share her excitement with someone, she surged forward and flung her arms around Paul. "You won't regret it," she promised, hugging him tight. "I swear, I won't let you or Dusty or Regal down."

"I know you won't." He chuckled, and his arms slowly encircled her.

His embrace was secure. Comforting. Warm, too, she realized, pressing her face to his shoulder. Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes and she drew in a shaky breath. "Thank you so much—"

"Hey," he murmured, a large hand dragging up her back to rest at the back of her head. "Don't cry."

"I'm just so happy," she sniffled, leaning back slightly and pulling one arm from around him to wipe at her eyes. Goosebumps rose on her arms when his and moved forward, his thumb gently swiping away a tear she missed. "I know you're taking a risk, because I'm still the new girl. But I promise you won't regret it—" she broke off, her throat closing up with the threat of more tears.

"I know," he said softly, pulling her close. He didn't seem to care that she was crying against his shoulder. His hands moved soothingly over her back, and he murmured comfortingly when she released a sob.

"It's just—" She shook her head, unable to manage the words.

"It's just you've fought tooth and nail for recognition over the past, what, ten years? It's just you've given up things that other people your age take for granted to pursue your dream. It's just…" He squeezed, and she felt his complete understanding. "It's just a reminder that someone else believes in you, and it's just one step closer to that dream of yours."

She nodded, tucking herself closer to him. How did he know? How could he possibly understand her emotions so well? After all, he'd married into the family. He'd had everything handed to him. Hadn't he? Sniffling, grateful that he continued to hold her until her tears finished, she shamelessly wiped her eyes against his shoulder. Leaning back, she was vaguely aware of his hand falling to her hip. "That's it exactly," she whispered. Attempting to smooth his shirt, she sniffled again.

"I was there once," he said softly. "You think it feels overwhelming now? Just wait until that belt's in your hand and it all becomes real."

She saw a strand of hair had caught in his neatly trimmed beard. Moving to pluck it away, she inadvertently swept her fingers over his cheek. The hand on her hip tensed and she suddenly realized the intimate position they were in. "Shit, sorry," she mumbled, attempting to untangle her legs. Aware of how massive his body was, she knew he could pick her up and set her aside if he wanted. But he didn't seem to care that she was all but straddling him. Finally she slipped away, shivering when his fingers brushed against her bare thigh. She pressed her lips together, unaccustomed to the rush of warmth that his touch left behind.

"Sophia—"

"Do you want something to drink?" she blurted. "I have some wine… Or coffee. Do you want coffee? Coffee sounds good."

She was babbling and couldn't stop it, scrambling to her feet and bumping past his knees. Good god, he was her boss. And he was married. She pushed away the amorous images that had started unfurling in her mind and, continuing to babble about how she enjoyed a good cup of coffee after dinner.

The little kitchenette wasn't closed off from the living room, so she couldn't try to talk some sense into herself. Her racing thoughts refused to settle as she ran water and scooped coffee grounds into the filter. She tried not to think about all the times he'd exchanged jokes with her when she was at the Performance Center. She tried not think about the times at Full Sail when he'd climbed into the ring and patiently went over the proper execution of a certain move. Or how he was always the one waiting just beyond the curtain after a match. Not that his doing that meant anything. He was waiting behind the curtain after every match.

"Sophia."

The coffee cup she'd just pulled out of the cabinet fell to the counter, banging loudly before skidding across and knocking over the bottle of dish soap. She noticed she hadn't even turned on the coffeemaker. Pressing her hands to her face she sucked in a breath. She didn't hear him walk closer but she could sense him moving, filling the space. She pulled her hands down just in time to see his shadow swallow up hers and, when she turned, he was right there.

"What's wrong?"

What's wrong? How the hell was she supposed to answer that? Nothing much, I just totally have the hots for you. Shaking her head, she mechanically reached to pluck another of her hairs from his face. Was he covered in them? His hand gently closed around her wrist. She froze, staring at the bare ring finger of his left hand, then slowly dragged her gaze up to meet his eyes. "I…"

"You want me to leave?" he asked softly. And she had no doubt that if she said yes, he would. And she knew that if he left that warmth he'd kindled inside her would leave, too.

"I want you to stay," she whispered. She knew she had just sealed her fate but there was no ominous cloud rolling into her vision. No warning rumbles in the back of her mind. Just him and his warmth.

His sigh was one of relief and before she could draw in a breath his lips were on hers. Before she could register the delightful shock his arms were around her. Floating. She was floating. Curling her arms around his neck as he lifted her up, she tried to memorize his taste. His lips were soft but demanding, the hand holding her to him strong and firm.

"Oh god," she gasped when his lips moved her jaw. What was she supposed to do? It was all she could do to hold onto him. Squealing as he turned to carry her back into the living room, she pressed her face to the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

"Sophie," he mumbled, lips stroking just beneath her ear. He gently lay her down on the couch and leaned over her, bracing one hand on the padded arm just above her head. She instinctively arched against him.

Trying her best not to fumble, she smoothed her hands down his chest. She was somewhat relieved to feel the thump of his heartbeat; it was as rapid and heavy as her own. Seeking his lips, she started to unbutton his shirt, muttering a curse into his mouth when her fingers became awkward. She tried again, relief flooding her as his shirt loosened. Her hands spread over warm, firm muscles, which she traced with awe. He sat back and she followed, unwilling to break their kiss, though she was forced to do so when he pulled up her shirt. Hissing at the feel of his rough palms against her bare skin, she faintly heard the rustle as their shirts fell to the floor together.

"Bed," she requested between fervent kisses, clutching at his shoulders. "Can we go to bed?"

He whispered agreement, dragging her close for another fevered kiss. Somehow he managed to kiss her and help her from the couch at the same time, and it was only when she was standing upright that he released her. On shaky legs she led him to the bedroom.

She'd forgotten the towels. While he emptied his pockets on the nightstand she pushed the towels onto the floor, then leaned across the mattress to straighten the sheet. Paul's hands grasped her hips and pulled her back against him. Eyes widening in surprise at the sensation of the thick erection pressed to her ass, she gasped when one hand moved forward, slipping beneath the waistband of her flannel cut-offs.

"Shit," he groaned, fingers cupping her. His other hand trailed up, stroking the underside of her bare breast, then guided her upright.

One arm reached back to hold onto him, managing to grab onto his hip. She clutched the wrist pressing to her lower abdomen with her other hand, her hips wriggling. His fingers stayed firm, though, merely holding her as his mouth kissed along her shoulder and up the side of her neck. She turned her head, whining when his fingers began gently stroking and pulling at her nipple. "Please," she whispered against his lips, squirming against the motionless fingers.

"What do you need?" His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent shivers down her spine.

"I don't know," she ground out, frustrated. Forcing away unwelcome memories that threatened to turn her passion into terror, she closed her eyes. "I need more. Please, Paul."

He tensed, hand gripping her breast. With a groan, he pulled his hand from between her legs, ignoring her small whine of protest, and turned her around to face him. His eyebrows raised in question and he raised both hands to gently cup either side of her head. "Sophie…"

"It's… It's been a while." A bit of a lie, but she feared telling the truth. Feared that it would cause him to back away.

"For me too," he murmured. His lips were warm against her forehead, his fingers gentle as he smoothed back her hair. "Let's do this right, okay?"

She nodded, pulling her upper lip between her teeth. She wanted to ask how long it had been for him, nosy as she was. Was he saying that his wife wasn't… And surely there were countless women who would be more than willing to… Gliding her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, she grasped his biceps. She felt them ripple as his hands moved down and gasped at the feel of his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples. Each stroke sent a sharp stab of delight to the pit of her belly. By the time he lowered his head and drew one into his mouth for a gentle suckle she was trembling.

His arm locked around her waist just when she was certain she'd crumple. He guided her back, lips and tongue suckling and flickering over nipple rapidly. She dug her nails into his skin, arching, not realizing he'd pulled off her shorts until his hands grabbed her ass and held her against him. She tensed slightly once his thighs were between hers, but he coaxed the anxiety away by leaning up for a languid kiss.

The room was too dark. She wanted to see him. She needed to be able to see him. Wriggling, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed. "Paul? The light…" He didn't move right away, seemingly focused on lavishing her other nipple. She squirmed away, reminding herself that it was Paul. But it was so easy to forget that in the dark. Turning on the lamp, she inhaled a calming breath before turning back to him. She drummed up every morsel of flirtation she could and met his concerned expression with a curve of her lips. "I want to see you," she explained, grabbing his hands and tugging until he lay over her again. This time there was no wave of apprehension when his powerful thighs pressed against hers. Encouraged by the way he squeezed her hands and the kiss that left her breathless, she draped one leg over his hip.

They both reached to unbuckle his belt at the same time. She worked slowly but impatiently, guided by his strong fingers, stroking the defined muscles of his hips as he removed his slacks. His cock, thick and blazing, nudged her inner thigh. Her fingers danced over it, eliciting a soft moan, then he chuckled when she did it again.

"It won't bite," he whispered in her ear, making her laugh.

"No, but it jumps," she returned in a teasing tone, grateful he could enjoy a moment of humor with her. To prove her point, she lightly dragged the tip of her index finger along the length, an unexpected giggle bubbling up her throat when it twitched. Opening her mouth to say she had told him so, she instead moaned sharply as his hand slipped between their bodies. His fingers cupped her again, only this time they slowly moved back and forth. She pulled her thighs further apart, again craving more.

"Patience," he murmured. She wasn't sure if he was telling himself or her, but nodded just the same.

Forcing herself to focus on the way her body responded to his touch, she was amazed he had created so much heat. She could feel perspiration. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. And, she discovered with a keening cry when his fingers traced her slit before spreading her, she was wet. He rubbed her slick heat until she panted, whispering fervently in her ear. Just when she thought she would scream with need, two fingers entered her and began pumping rapidly.

"That's right," he said when she began rolling her hips and shaking. His other hand started to toy with her nipples. Ducking his head, he traced her collarbone with his tongue.

"Paul," she gasped, hands flailing before finally gripping his arm. She knew what an orgasm was; hell, she'd even managed to give herself more than a few. But they had never felt like this. She couldn't move, couldn't arch closer to feel more intensity or back away when it became too much. Dependent on him, she was only able to hold on. Her body gave an involuntary shudder at the first touch of his thumb to her clit. Her lungs snatched in a breath and held it as her hips strained upwards. Head falling back, she twitched as the passion consumed her, hips twitching. She released her breath in a piercing squeal, body straining, then slumped.

He was still there, his fingers moving slowly, his thumb circling her clit. When she squirmed and hissed his name he pulled his hand away. She was still trembling as she floated back down to earth and was surprised to feel tears on her face. Whining when he shifted and she felt his tongue trace one hard nipple, she released her grip on his arm and reached to wipe her tears away.

"Fuck," she whimpered.

"Okay?" he asked softly, nuzzling her neck and squeezing her thigh.

Sophia nodded, managing to lift one limp leg and flopping it over his. The movement brought him closer and she stretched, craving more.

He made no move to enter her, though. Instead he rolled onto is back, bringing her with him. She sprawled atop him like a limp dishrag. He kept his hands on her, caressing her arms, stroking her back, kneading her thighs, smoothing her hair back, tracing the curves of her shoulders. Each time her body gave the tiniest shudder he murmured soothingly.

Groaning, she stretched, then slowly boosted herself up. Her hands resting lightly on his abdomen, she straddled his thighs and tossed back the uncontrollable wildness that was her hair. She could feel the heat of her flushed cheeks. Her lips felt swollen, and she looked down at him, gratification and lust warring within her. "That was amazing."

"Was?" he repeated, one corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. His hands were hot and light on her thighs.

"Still is. And will be," she amended, giddy when he began to chuckle. She liked that he wasn't being too serious. She liked that he didn't mind taking it slow. She liked that he didn't ask questions. At least, not aloud. She'd seen them in his eyes earlier. She wondered if he would ask later and fervently hoped he wouldn't. "You promise it won't bite?"

Paul's chuckle became a full-fledged laugh. Sitting up, he caught her face in his hands and drew her in for a kiss. "You're killing me, Sophie."

"Am I? Then I better stop. You're much more useful to me alive than dead," she purred. The sultry effect was ruined when she snorted on a giggle, though. "Tell me something, Paul."

"Hmm?" He was trying to push her disheveled curls back.

"How do you like it?" she asked, flattening her palms against his chest. Following the lines of his muscles down his torso, she felt his abdomen roll beneath her fingers as he inhaled sharply. "Keeping in mind that I'm not some hot-to-trot porn star… How do you want me?"

He gave up on her hair, presumably realizing it was a lost cause. His brown eyes had darkened until they resembled her morning coffee before she added cream. One hand on her waist, he kept her in his lap while he scooted back until he was leaning against the headboard. He took her hands in his and guided them to his shoulders, then his touch blazed up her arms and down her spine before his palms rested on her hips. "I want you like this," he whispered, thumbs moving in slow circles.

"Why?" she breathed, one hand moving from his shoulder to grope for the bedside table drawer. It was a cliché, yes, but she tried to always be prepared. Even though she'd never had to use one, she'd kept protection in there since moving in.

Paul's hand covered hers briefly, then she heard the drawer slide open. "Because, you're gorgeous and I want to watch you."

Oh. Grinning absurdly at the compliment, she traced the length of his arm and glanced to the bedside table. Her eyes widened upon seeing just how many condoms he'd grabbed. He kissed the corner of her mouth, drawing her attention back to him, and she let herself become lost in the sensual caress of his lips over hers. Reaching between them, she plucked the condom from his grasp and, guided by his steadier fingers, slowly rolled it down his length.

His whispers encouraging her, he grasped her hips again, squeezing as she lifted up onto her knees. She moved forward, biting back a moan at the thrilling touch of his cock along her slit. Her hips rolled instinctively to increase the friction. She felt his fingers biting into her skin then he slipped a hand between them. "Oh, fuck," she blurted when the rigid tip began to push against her clit. Lifting up slightly, she dug her nails into his shoulders as his cock started nudging her entrance.

Guided by the firm pressure of his hand at her hip, she sank down. She grew tense, wincing when she felt the fullness, the stretch. The hand between them moved to clutch her waist and, ragged moan matching hers, he guided her all the way down. "So good," he whispered, tight grips becoming gentle caresses. "You feel so good, Sophie."

"Oh," she moaned. She was growing accustomed to the feel of him. Wetting her lips, she focused on how he seemed to fill her up completely. How soft his callused fingers felt against her skin. He didn't rush her and for that she was grateful. Still, she craved more. Adjusting her hands on his shoulders, she inhaled and exhaled slowly in hopes of calming her racing heart. Her hips gave an involuntary roll and she watched his head fall back slightly. Emboldened, she did it again.

She had no idea how much time passed as she wriggled and squirmed in his lap. Growing overheated, she tried to maintain her hold on his shoulders, palms becoming slippery with sweat. An arm tucked around her waist, drawing her closer, and was certain she saw stars when his hips began to pump beneath her.

"Oh god oh god oh god," she panted, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her legs were starting to ache and tremble, and each gentle thrust of his hips sent a jolt of pure fire through her body. She wanted to stop, to rest, to catch her breath, but she needed to continue.

"Sophie—ahh," he growled when she began to rise and fall against him. She could feel the tautness of his muscular arms as they locked around her. Keenly aware of every place their bodies touched and rubbed together, she bit down on her bottom lip and started moving faster. The roughness of his beard scraped over her throat, and she felt the heat of his breath against her ear.

She thought she heard him whisper her name, but just as he did one hand dropped between them and sure fingers glided over her clit She clenched her eyes shut, curled her fingers in his back, and held her breath as her body began to shake. "I'm—"

"Do it," he urged in a rough whisper.

As though her body had waited for his encouragement, she arched and stiffened, aware only of the blinding ecstasy. She thought she heard him call her name. She thought she felt him rock. The only thing she knew for sure was the delight that crashed through her body like waves in a stormy sea. It clung to her, wrenching all her strength, and it was only when it began to ebb that she once more became conscious of him.

He was as out of breath as she. The erratic beat of his heart mirrored hers. The only difference was that he could move. She felt his palm sweep down her back, then his hand cradled her head as she slumped.

"Sophie."

"Hmm."

"Open your eyes?" he asked.

"Don't wanna," she mumbled, burrowing closer to him. She was afraid that if she did open her eyes reality would crash down upon her. Cheek resting on his chest, lulled by the slowing of his heartbeat, warmed by his arm around her. If she stayed like this, the world wouldn't be able to intrude. But the sweat on her skin was drying and quickly cooling her. Groaning, she reluctantly rolled onto her side, instantly regretting the movement when an ache flared in her back.

She felt him move, heard the springs of her cheap bed protest. The sheet and a blanket were drawn over her. A smile of appreciation pulled at her lips and she sighed, touched by the gesture. There was no relaxing now, however, as her ears automatically picked up every sound from him. Did he regret it? Was he already plotting how to leave? Should she just roll over and ask him to turn off the light on his way out?

Eyes still shut, she listened to him cross the room and enter the bathroom. For some reason she was surprised when he didn't close the door behind him. Water ran in the sink. The toilet flushed. The shower started.

The shower? Though her languid body didn't want to move she pushed herself up onto her elbow, raking her hair back and opening her eyes in time to see him fill the doorway. She held her breath as their eyes met, waiting for the guilt. Waiting for him to say it had been a mistake and that it would never happen again.

He said nothing, though. Stretching his arms above his head, he simply looked at her. She couldn't look away, not even when tendrils of steam began to snake around him. Finally he tilted his head to one side. "Shower? Or do you want to wait?"

Sitting up she nodded. "No. Wait. I want a shower now."

Her thighs trembled unsteadily once she was on her feet. Remembering the towels, she grabbed two and walked towards him. He backed into the steam-filled bathroom and the next thing she knew she was standing beneath the strong jets of hot water. His hand rested at her waist briefly before his arm slipped around her.

"Will you stay?" she asked cautiously, closing her eyes as his lips brushed her shoulder.

"You want me to?"

"Stay," she whispered, turning to face him. Hands skimming up his chest, she would have sworn she felt him shiver. "Please stay."