I have mixed emotions about Damien Rush. Throughout his homoerotic wrestling career, he’s portrayed such an annoying character. His “daddy’s little rich boy” persona plays to precisely the sociopolitical tensions that keep me up worrying at night. But is that actually a little stroke of genius on his part, tapping into the zeitgeist and the collective unconscious roiling over the vulnerability of the human condition in the face of the crushing maw of unchecked capitalism? Is he just a contemporary incarnation of Nikolai Volkoff or the Iron Sheik from the 80’s, whipping fans into a snarling frenzy by embodying the worst of our socially constructed boogeymen that call into question the balance of good and evil in the world? Or… is he just a dick?

For someone who I feel such strong ambivalence about, I have to admit he comes up in my conversations often. I’m sure it helps that he’s fucking gorgeous, but it’s more than that. He’s compelling, perhaps in the exact way I don’t want to be compelled. He provokes and incites in a way that makes me heap all sorts of angst and lust and anger onto him, and I sort of can’t look away. It’s entirely possible, in fact, that my creative partner, AR, and I have written a piece or two of homoerotic wrestling fiction starring Damien. But I’ve resisted writing about him here on the blog for a while because he’s got that one rabid superfan who can’t separate kayfabe from reality, who launches into increasingly unhinged insults and threats when I pick on Damien as a dastardly heel.

At the risk of triggering a fresh wave of superfan abuse, though, I’ve got to say that I love seeing Damien back in action in “Gold Rush” against KC Ryder. Damien isn’t in the peak muscle heel condition of, say, his Forced to Flex 3 appearance, and he’s definitely not in his early career twink go-go boy shape of Strip Stakes 3. His physique is in a whole new chapter, and like everything about Damien, it’s curiously compelling. He’s a beefy, extravagantly hairy muscle bear with a shaved head. Honestly, that much body hair is a bit much for me. But again, Damien being a bit much is just perfectly on brand!

He offers to pluck some of his excess of body hair off and share it with the smooth, blond beauty, KC. Fuck, KC is pretty. I’ve heard an opponent refer to him as Irish, but I keep mentally clocking him as a modern day urban viking. The first time I saw KC, he was getting spit in the face and absolutely fucked up by Sir Dark at Wrestlefest Live 2025. KC’s got this effortless earnestness about him that, I think, makes being a babyface his default. But Damien “Gold” Rush immediately heaping on aristocratic contempt by calling him the bellboy seems to ignite something hard and fierce in KC that I fucking love. He snarks back with a sneer at Damien’s hairy muscles, “Did they downgrade the pool boy?”

It’s just a little over 14 minutes, but fuck, it’s packed to the gills with sexy wrestling domination and drama. Damien literally can’t not mention his daddy’s fortune and the immense advantages that being a one-percenter affords him, as he continually derides KC. His Gold Rush purple trunks were hand stitched by artisans in Dubai, he points out. Maybe, just maybe, if KC entertains him enough, he’ll upgrade him from bellboy to personal valet (I know of at least one superfan who’d fucking sell a lung for that job).

Fuck, I love watching KC punish and dominate the beefy nepobaby hard! I don’t know how much wrestling Damien has gotten in since his hiatus from videos, but no shit, KC works that hot body of his with authority that just irritates the fuck out of Damien. KC milks a camel clutch beautifully, looking like he might just rip Damien’s skull of his neck with that nasty chin lock. Every snarling “fuck you, bellboy” from his opponent only seems to inspire KC to punish him harder, which is absolutely perfect for me.

I can’t deny that I get way turned on watching Damien on offense, though, too. KC bitches about Damien taking his sweaty foot off his back in a standing surfboard. Without skipping a beat, the nebobaby points out he’s been walking barefoot across his daddy’s acres of farms, cities, and entire countries. Damien snaps his quads around KC’s head in standing scissors like the blonde is some poor puritan caught in the pillory for having lustful thoughts. “Just a little bellboy between these tree trunks quads,” Damien monologues like he’s Henry F. Potter milking humiliation out of the poor masses. “After we’re done, I’m going to have you lick the sweat off my brow like the little helper you are!”

Fuck, I love both of these characters so much! I love the action. I fucking adore the suspense of the back and forth advantage. These boys both get mean and nasty in this 0-to-60-in-under-a-minute all out sprint. Without giving away too much, I’ll just say that the finish is equal parts surprising and satisfying, because KC and Damien have been telling this brutal story so well. I’m pretty sure Damien may still be looking to hire a new valet (so send him your resumes, fans). This match has a delicious hit of nostalgia, with a juicy feel of a comeback with a through-story that stitches this drama seamlessly onto Damien’s impressive body of work and brings tantalizing chemistry with don’t-call-me-bellboy KC. It looks like KC and Damien have squared off several times over the past couple of years, and now I need to see more!