I, like about a million viewers, male and female, could only gape in wide-eyed, slack-jawed disbelief as he strolled out onto that entrance stage tonight. Looking like a wet dream come to life.
Jesus, just thinking about it is enough to make my belly clench.
I was supposed to kick his ass the second the footage from last night finished being shown. That was the plan, that was what Vince wanted. But I couldn’t do it. I stood there less than a foot from him, and I could smell his shampoo and some kind of hair gel and soap and just him, and he was looking down at me, holding his breath, waiting for me to attack him like I was supposed to and…I couldn’t do it.
Instead I hugged him.
And kissed his throat.
All caught on camera.
Oh, but that was just the beginning. My little fall from grace didn’t end there, oh no. Then came the match. I don’t think I could tell you a single spot from the match tonight. Well, maybe one. The one where Jay reached behind his head and pulled that thin silk shirt off.
Or maybe the one where Rob had Jay rolled in an inside cradle that made his hip-hugger jeans ride even lower and showed me, and the camera straight down his pants to bare thigh.
Those damn black sparkly-waisted underwear peeking at us all, his incredible chest so tight and ripped, glistening under the lights of a million flashbulbs going off as every woman, and some men, in that arena burned through the film on Jay alone. I could practically hear a million more people at home frantically shoving tapes in VCR’s and hitting record.
Were we all blind? Was I the only one who didn’t see how breathtaking he was before tonight? I mean, I always thought he was cute, in an endearingly goofy way, but this…I had no idea this was in him. My god.
And then I kinda snapped after the match. I remember racing around the outside of the ring to catch him as he fell trying to escape Kane, then hurrying up the ramp with my arm around his waist. Then…I kinda lost it.
I pulled him against me, so worried he was hurt, almost crying as my fingers roamed his face and neck, staring into those wide, silvery-blue eyes. I could see he was momentarily confused by my probably excessive concern, but then I pulled him in for another hug, my lips again sliding against his warm, damp throat and he seemed to…I dunno the word I’m looking for here, but his hands were in my hair and his face was in my neck and I never wanted him to move.
All caught on camera.
On the Titantron, even.
I’m in so much trouble.
Then we were backstage and Bischoff was waiting, laying into me for not following the script and the next thing I knew Jay was no longer in my arms and I was too busy trying to save my job to catch him as he took off down the hall to his dressing room.
My punishment for not turning on Jay is that they made me the hit and run guy on Goldberg. I don’t even care. I almost ripped poor Coach’s head off when he caught me in the parking lot for the interview. It’s laughable that they all think I was racing off because I’m scared of Bill. Not even close.
No, I’m a man on a mission right now. And now, standing here in front of his hotel room, still in my gear, still a mess from the match and being reamed by Bischoff and Austin, I haven’t a clue what I’m going to say to him. Doesn’t matter, I think I’m gonna die it *something * doesn’t give here.
He answers on the second knock, swinging the door open, cornflower blue eyes wide. “Chris…what…?”
I don’t give him the chance to finish, pushing him back into the room with one hand on his chest, kicking the door shut behind me. Still with my hand splayed on his chest, I stalk forward until he hits the wall and then I slide my hand up to catch him behind the neck and drag him down to cover those startled, lush lips with my own.
It’s pretty apparent he was NOT expecting this and his hands come up to catch my upper arms, pushing at me, fingers digging into my biceps as he squirms, caught between me and the wall. His mouth is resistant against mine, struggling to remain tightly closed as I lick and suck at him, silently demanding to be let in.
It’s when my free hand slides sensually up the outside of his denim-clad thigh that he gasps, and I take instant advantage, sinking my tongue into the sweet warmth of his mouth. And god he tastes so fucking good.
Suddenly, he shoves hard at me, catching me off guard and succeeding in breaking the kiss. He leans back against the wall, breathing hard, a sharp frown creasing his brow.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing?” he pants, shaking his head and slumping further against the wall.
If he looked pissed I might be apologizing and making my exit. If he looked disgusted I might do the same thing. Instead he just looks sweetly confused, startled, and thoroughly shocked.
I reach up, brushing my fingertips across his cheek. He jumps slightly, eyes darting away, then back to mine, so adorably unsure and disbelieving. I smile, stepping in close against him and, though he stiffens and presses back against the wall, there’s a look in his eyes that encourages me, that tells me if I play my cards right, he won’t be saying no anytime soon.
I can hardly breathe just staring at him, close enough to feel his heart racing beneath the thin black silk shirt, close enough to see every fleck of silver in those wide blue eyes. He’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.
My fingers gentle on his jaw, I turn his face to the side, leaning in to lightly draw my tongue across his wildly pounding pulse, feeling the jolt race through his tightly strung body, hearing the hissing of his breath through his teeth. His fingers dig into my biceps again and for a second I think he’s gonna shove me away.
Then, with a soft whimper that is music to my ears, he seems to melt, sagging slightly, his head falling forward to my shoulder as I lavish soft, suckling kisses on his throat. I trail my lips up, catching the tender lobe of his ear in my teeth, tugging gently on the tiny gold hoop there.
“Pretty baby…” I whisper, feeling him shiver at my breath fanning his ear. “So pretty…” He moans softly, shifting his hips slightly forward against me, one long, slender leg coming up to hook behind my thigh.
Pulling back slightly, I watch as he lifts his head from my shoulder, eyes liquid and unsure as he stares at me. I only smile, my fingers going to the thin black silk ribbon lacing the front of his shirt, not taking my eyes from his as I slowly unlace it fully, until it hangs open, baring a narrow section of his golden chest and abs.
He’s watching me, barely breathing, lips soft and parted, and I can’t resist leaning in to lightly draw his pouting lower lip into my mouth, sucking lightly before releasing it. Then, our gazes still locked, I slowly tug his shirt off his shoulders, down his strong arms, letting it fall with a soft rustle to the floor.
I let my fingertips lightly brush across that beautiful, wide expanse and he shivers, eyes sinking close briefly as I brush across his tightened nipples. I smile at that and lean in to capture his open mouth. And this time he’s kissing me back, tongue timidly dancing out to meet mine, then with more confidence. I allow him to dictate the pace of the kiss then, with a mere circle of my hips against him, resume control, slanting my mouth across his and thrusting my tongue deep.
By the time I break the kiss, he’s gasping and breathless, lips swollen and parted, silvery eyes wide and dazed. It’s then that I know he’s mine, and the knowledge is like a drug shooting through me.
Still with our eyes locked, I drop slowly to my knees, my hands on his narrow hips, fingertips lightly stoking the sleek line of his hipbones above the low-riding waistband of his jeans, savoring the delicate shivers coursing through him.
I let my gaze drop to the laces on his jeans, smiling. It’s almost like he gift-wrapped himself for me, complete with a pretty little bow. As I catch one end of that bow, I look back up at him, watching his face as I slowly pull, unraveling the laces with patience until finally the jeans gape open, the thin strips of leather dangling down his thighs.
He bites his lower lip as I catch the empty belt loops and begin to draw the pants down, lifting first one bare foot, then the other to free him completely, then tossing the jeans aside. I take a second to shed my own shirt before rising back up onto my knees in front of him, hands sliding up his sleek, leanly-muscled legs, not bulky or bulging with muscle, but slender and tight, so perfect.
He stiffens as my hands catch his underwear and begin to draw them down as well, hissing under his breath as his cock is freed and now he’s standing there, fully naked and I swear I can’t breath with how gorgeous every last inch of him is. Front the tips of his new, choppy, spiky hair to his adorable bare feet, Jay is a work of art. Makes me wish I was a painter or sculptor and could do this body justice.
“Chris…” He whispers, voice catching, and I can feel the muscles in his thighs tense, as if he’s on the verge of bolting. “I don’t think…we can’t…”
I smile, slowly slipping my fingers up across the tops of his thighs, inching closer and closer to the prize until finally I wrap one hand lightly around the base of his cock. He jumps at the contact, slender hands on my shoulders.
“Shhhh…yes, we can.” I give a long, smooth stroke of his length and his hands tighten on my shoulders, lips parting as he sucks in his breath. And when I begin to lean forward, his eyes are hard on mine, intent, looking torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. In the end he does neither and his hands fall from my shoulders to press against the wall…waiting. Not breathing. Tensed.
He doesn’t have to wait long, because the next instant my mouth is on him and he’s whimpering again, fingers curling against the wall, head tilted back. The taste of him is sweet and spicy, throbbing hard and yet soft as velvet and I can’t get enough, of his flavor, his scent, or the addictive sound of his sweet little whimpering moans of pleasure.
Then my tongue is trailing up his belly and chest and neck as I rise to my feet. When I turn him to face the wall he stiffens again and I catch his hips, pressing my body against him, lips at his ear, rocking against his sweet, bare ass through my tights, letting him feel what he’s done to me. More delicious whimpers and I know he’s fighting an inner battle between wanting so bad and not knowing if he should give in to that need.
I make the decision for him when I reach around and begin stroking him. Within seconds he is panting, forehead to the wall, hips pushing back against me as I circle my own against him. You’re mine, pretty baby, no running from me now.
Kissing and licking at the back of his neck, I pull his hips back a bit farther, nudging his legs apart slightly and, one hand still stoking his cock, reach to tug my tights down, freeing myself.
He shivers, hard, at the feel on my cock against his ass. “Oh god…Chris…” Almost a pleading tone, but I don’t know if he’s asking for more or asking me to stop. I think neither really. Doesn’t matter, I honestly don’t think I could stop now even if he did
ask.
And then I am easing into him and he groans low, palms braced on the wall, cheek pressed against it, panting and whimpering. I go slow, god the last thing I want is to hurt him, taking my cues from him as we slowly become one. And when I am fully immersed in his tight heat, I swear I’m seeing stars. Nothing has ever felt as good as Jay does rippling around me.
My hands are gentle on his hips as I slowly begin to move, eyes trailing down the long, sleek arch of his spine, following the graceful line of his back down to where he and I meet, watching in awe as I move inside him. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I could watch forever, except just then he arches his back just slightly more and squeezes around me and I lose all ability for rational, coherent thought.
Then I’m thrusting, long, deep thrusts that make him moan and curl his fingers into the wall again, his head tilting back as I move over him. My hands slide up his back and down his arms to tangle my fingers with his against the cool wall, bent low over him, my mouth against his sweet nape as we rock and thrust and move together. Our breath gasps in perfect unison, and he turns his head back to allow me to capture those gasping lips with my own, tongues tangling and dancing, fingers entwining and sliding, bodies thrusting and writhing. I think even out hearts synchronize for a moment.
Pulling one hand, still tangled with his, from the wall, I guide our grasping fingers down to his shaft, drowning in his muffled groans and cries of pleasure against my lips as two sets of fingers grip and slide and stroke him even as I pump harder and faster into his willing body.
Our motions grow more frantic, less controlled as the pleasure mounts, his sharp little teeth drawing blood on my lower lip, then soothes the sting with his velvet tongue and I can feel the need swelling in him, in me, in us both as we strain together towards the edge. Before long his sweet whimpers escalate, deepen, become animalistic growling sounds as he bucks back on each thrust, our tangled fingers gripping almost painfully against the wall, the others stroking with fervor in the desperate attempt to plunge into the abyss together.
We very nearly do, too, a mere second after the first splash coats our fingers, he tears his mouth from mine with a cry and slams back hard, squeezing tight and I drop my forehead to his back, almost shouting as I bite his shoulder and flood him. Jerking out hands from the wall, I wrap our arms around his waist, holding him tight as we shatter together then sink to the floor in a slick, sinuous tangle of limbs that I honestly don’t care if we never detach ourselves from. Perfectly content to remain one with him forever.
I don’t know how much time passes before I can move, but when I do, slowly and reluctantly easing from him, I look down at his face to see him sound asleep, a smile on his lovely lips. And his fingers still tangled with mine.
I manage to carry him to the bed without waking him, curling around him, my face buried in his nape, and drift to sleep. Pretty baby, I smile to myself…mine.
