"Crave"
Parts 9 - 12
By Jade Doll
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Part 9 “Seen Jericho?” I ask. “Yeah Austin, he’s grabbing a water.” “In his dressing room.” “If you see him you tell him from me that he can go to hell…” “Why? What’s he done this time?” “No, probably getting ready for his match.” “Talking to Cade in the Locker room.” “Haven’t seen him since his match.” “With the trainer.” I’ve been trying to track down the little bastard all week. I think he’s avoiding me. On Saturday by the time I got back to the “Brawl in the Ballroom” as it’s now known, Chris had checked on his Boyos and bolted back to his hotel. Shelving my plans to pour whiskey all over him and then lick it off, I caught a cab to my hotel and slept till noon. At the house show I finally corner Chris in his dressing room after his match. I walk in without knocking, to find Jericho toweling his hair dry. Cursing that I missed my cute little blonde all soapy and wet, I walk boldly into his personal space and slide my arms around his slim waist. Leaning my nose inches away from his I whisper, “Hit me.” He blinks, probably in shock at my ballsiness, and freezes up in my arms. No way. “No way Chris. Ya deck me or break my wrist or somethin’. Hit me or I ain’t letting go.” Every muscle in Jericho’s body is tense. I can feel it. He seems to be weighing up his options. That he hasn’t handed me my head already sends happy little buzzes to my cock. That and the snug connection it has with Chris’s cotton clad stomach. Very slowly he puts those beautiful long-fingered hands on my biceps. Eyes of the most unusual shade of blue meet mine. “Austin. This is the worst idea you have ever had. You were drunk. It’s forgotten.” He says carefully. “Really?” I snort unimpressed. “Then I better remind ya.” I close those tiny inches and run my tongue across his bottom lip. He jumps and tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold on him and deepen the kiss. Chris’ mouth is as delicious as I remember, so sweet and hot, that I could just stand here all day kissing him. I’m feelin’ the growl start in my chest again as our lips slide against each other and my cock springs to life in my too-tight jean shorts. After about a year I pull back slightly. His eyes are shut again, his breathing uneven. I rub my cheek against his like a cat and murmur into his ear, “Hit me now or I never let go.” I mean it, he has one chance to get away from me, one. After this he’s mine. His voice is husky with that slightly gravelly note in it that makes the girly fans scream. “I don’t want to hit you.” Mine. ********** I’ve discovered the couch in Chris’ locker room is softer than the one I got. Maybe because I’ve never sat on mine with a gorgeous Canadian straddling my lap as I grab two handfuls of the finest ass I’ve ever encountered. His damp hair curtains our faces as we kiss. He’s an awesome kisser. Hot and wet with the right pressure, but mixed with sexy nibble pecks that have me hard as a rock. No pun Dwayne. My beautiful new boyfriend is also nicely turned on if the temperature of his skin and the erection pressing against my stomach is any indication. “Fuck Baby yeah,” I’m growling non-stop now as he presses closer to me, knees sinking into the couch on either side of my hips. “Hurry the fuck up Jericho, Vince is waiting.” Paul’s voice is a loud unwelcome intrusion, along with the banging of his hand on the door. “Vince can bite me.” Chris murmurs against my lips. “I’ll break his face if he tries,” I’m all possessive, Beast Man at the moment. Chris giggles. Really. He just giggled. “My hero.” With a sigh my blonde babe lifts himself from my lap and tries to adjust his leather pants. His shirt’s been untucked by my groping hands and falls over his groin. I stay exactly where I am. Sprawled, hard-on obvious, legs parted, licking my lips as I watch him move around the room. Chris unlocks the door, turning sapphire eyes on me. “Can I call around to your room tonight?” Oh hell yeah! “Oh Hell Yeah!” I’m off the couch in a second, kissing him hard. “You better.” I threaten. With a wink and a smirk Chris open the door, carefully shielding me from the hall while he leaves. I fall back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling. Tonight. ****** My hotel room is all tidy because I just checked in and the bar fridge is full. I think I’m nervous. Wandering around the suite like a caged wolf. I think I’m very impatient as well. Where the hell is he? I let my gaze linger on the bed, imagining all the fucking I would love to indulge in with Chris. Probably not tonight, I tell my cock. First date and all that. But I can wish can’t I? Wonder what it would feel like to have him under me, legs wrapped around my waist while I ease into his tight ass. Burying my face in his hair, hearing him gasp and beg while I fuck him long and slow. All night. “Those bedspreads are truly hypnotizing I know.” His voice rips me from my almost wet dream. I spin around to stare at the object of my lust lounging in my hotel room doorway. Hair across his shoulders, blue eyes a bit…cautious? I stare at him numbly. His smile falters a little. “The door was open. If you want to let this go I…” Chris doesn’t even finish the sentence as I’m across the room sliding a hand around his waist to pull him inside, shutting the door behind him with the other. I look down into his eyes as I tighten the half-embrace in which he’s trapped. Very deliberately I lock the door. His eyebrows go up. I realize he’s holding a six-pack. Did I mention I love the little bastard? “Do ya have any idea what it does to me to see ya, in my room, with beer?” The sexy smile is back, blue eyes now bright with amusement. “Why do you think I keep buying it for you?” “Ha.” God I’m a fool. I lean forward to lightly nuzzle the golden curve of Chris’ neck. I feel his body melt, curving into mine like molasses. The air around us stills for a second then shifts as Chris draws in a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh. I try to hold on but he moves out of my arms. Dropping the beer onto the small kitchen counter Jericho walks to the other side of the couch. “What?” If he changes his mind about this I’m gonna kick his ass across the room. The sharp blue eyes look directly into mine. “We met...what?...four years ago?” Chris enquires. “’bout that. Why?” Kick it down the hallway too. “We had a signing for the third music CD.” I’m lost and I let my expression show it. “You, me and Debra.” He finishes with eyebrows raised. Whatthefuck? “So?” I’m down to one syllable it seems. The only sound in the room is the rustle of Chris’ shirt as he crosses his arms across his chest. “So. You are Stone Cold Steve Austin. The Toughest SOB in the World Wrestling Federation. Austin 3:16 said I just kicked your ass. Etcetera, etcetera.” Might kick his ass down the stairs too. “And?” Like pulling fuckin’ teeth this conversation. “And…” Jericho’s look becomes even more intense. “You married Deb a month after that signing.” A pause. “Married.” Another pause. “A woman.” To say I’m a bit thrown here would be like saying Goldberg is a bit of a bastard. “Yeah so?” It’s like Chris suddenly drops the icy bitch attitude, letting his arms fall to the sides he begins to pace. “I have never, in four years, seen you even look at another man Austin. I know Bradshaw tried to get into your pants, but rumour is you turned him down by breaking his nose.” He prowls the room like the big golden wildcat everyone compares him too. “It was his jaw.” I correct absently. Those long fingers ruffle through golden hair. He flicks me a blue sideways look, but stays silent. Oh. I fuckin’ get it. “Ya wanna know why I’ve switched sides?” I ask incredulously. Jericho’s face stills then relaxes into a smile. “Guess so.” I make like I’m seriously thinking about my answer. “I haven’t.” His smile freezes. I can be a bastard too remember. “I, as Debra the bitch wife from hell will attest to, will fuck any thing that moves.” The smile warms again. “And if it doesn’t move…I’ll push it.” I snigger. A snort of laughter from Chris. “As long as it’s breathing,” he agrees. “As long as it’s still warm.” I concur. Jericho shakes his head in despair. “Such a romantic.” “Romance? Fuck that! I tried romance with Debra and she’s still a complete bitch.” Better we settle this now than it comes back to bite me on the ass later. “Just ‘cos I never did anyone from the locker room, doesn’t mean I never go for guys.” I gesture between us. “Case in point Gorgeous.” “And Bradshaw?” His eyes are curious now. I stare at him in shock. “Would you fuck Bradshaw?” He thinks that over for a second. “Ahh no.” “So there ya are.” Grinning now I relax the grip my hands had unconsciously taken on the back of a chair. Posture now more at ease, Chris leans a hip against the couch. “So here we are.” “And this?” I gestures to the space between us. “The couch?” He inquires. “Nah ya Prick. I mean this!” I begin to stalk around the couch, ready to pounce on his cute Canadian ass. He nimbly avoids me. “What? Our URST?” Stunned I stop my hunt. “What?” Hands once again on slim hips he looks disappointed that I’ve stopped moving. “Unresolved Sexual Tension.” Like a professor or something. “Unresolved SEXual Tension? Huh?” I begin the prowl again. Chris resumes his attempt to flee. A smirk. “You would emphasis the middle.” He teases. “Well the ‘Unresolved’ bit ain’t gonna be the case much longer.” I make a grab. “Now c’mere.” I tackle Chris and we fall to the couch in a tangle of blonde hair and blue jeans. I swear he tastes better each time. After a couple of minutes of tangled tongues and me trying to unzip vinyl pants that I discover are button fly, we surface for air. Deciding I can play cock tease with the best of them, I heft myself off my gorgeous new fuck-toy and wander into the little kitchen. Pulling a beer from the ring I pop it open and look to my guest. He blinks at me from sex dazed sapphire blue eyes and takes a second to focus. Ha. “Want one?” I offer generously. “Definitely.” I toss him a can, which he catches easily. This sparks a memory as I settle back on the couch. “I can’t believe ya dropped that beer.” I snicker at him. Jericho rolls his eyes. “I didn’t. You throw like a girl. Actually the girls I know throw better than you.” He sits crossed legged next to me. In easy reach. “No way. Ya missed the beer. Chris, I’m-So-Coordinated-A Tiger-Would-Be-Jealous, Jericho needed a kiddy throw to catch a can from five feet away.” I tease ruthlessly. “You are delusional,” my soon to be lover insults me. “And ‘Drunk With Power’.” Chris smiles nastily. “Any chance I can get Darlin’,” I bare my teeth at him. His beer can thumps onto the coffee table as ”oomph” Chris launches himself onto me. Good thing we both like it when he’s on top. I collect two handfuls vinyl and start to growl like some freakin’ beast when…. ….de, de dah, da, da dah, de, de dah, da, da, dah, de, de, dah, da, da, dah daa-daa…. All movement from the God of Sex stops as the music echoes through the room. Sapphire eyes lock onto mine. “You have Rawhide as your ring tone?” Chris asks. “Yeah so?” Regretfully, I toss Jericho onto the floor and grab at my bag near the bed. Lifting his crossed ankles to rest on the disordered couch, Chris watches upside down as I answer my cellular. “What?” I ignore the snort from the floor. Fuck. It’s JR. “Yeah.” I’m only half listening as Chris’ shirt has ridden up and I can see the tanned skin of his abdomen above the Sinful Pants. “What? Now?!!” That registers. “Fine, I’ll be there in five.” I hang up. “So I’m dating a superstar and he’s never around.” With a move that uses far more back muscles than most people have, Chris twists to his feet. Like I’m gonna cop that. “Says Mr-Can’t-Miss-A-House-Show-Or-The-World-Will-End.” Jericho flips me the bird. Adjusting his clothes, Chris walks to the door. “I’m flying out at 7am. You?” “Same flight.” I grab my keys and follow him to the door. I cover his hand as it catches the handle. “Ever had a blow job in an airplane toilet?” I whisper into his neck. Yeah I gotta thing for necks, and asses, and hair, and eyes…. “Not that I remember.” Chris’ whisper has the sexy husky tone I just fuckin’ adore. I twist the handle, exposing us to the world. “Then I’ll see you at seven.” I promise. I watch as Jericho wanders back to his room. “Darlin’” His head shoots around but by then I’ve made it to the elevator. Score one me. Almost. Part 10
7.13am I wonder if I concentrate hard enough I can make Hunter’s head explode? nnnnggghhhhnnnn Damn. Didn’t work. Woulda been perfect. Hunter’s brain matter all over the airline upholstery and Chris, MY Chris, no longer caught by the World Heavyweight Champion’s need for a heart to heart four seats across. Chris in my lap while I do stuff that’ll freak out the stewardess. Miss Itty Bitty Skirt, keeps checking him out. Try again with the head thing. Nnnngggghhhnnnnn Think I’m all outta luck there. Oh fer crying out loud…. Yes HONEY, they are both BLONDE and gorgeous, but one’s married and the other’s MINE so piss off and get me a beer. Yeah, I’m a sexist prick, but that’s her job. There’s like two peanuts in this packet! How can a man survive on that? Wonder what they’re saying. I stare mournfully at the toilet, ignoring Kurt’s worried expression, and pray for Hunter to drop dead.
10.07am “What’s yer name kid?” I ask. I really do like my fans. They kick ass all over anyone else’s because, well, they’re mine. Sometimes, though, I really, really wish I wasn’t who I was. Like now. When nearly sixty people stand between me and the baggage area where my SOON TO BE NAILED IN THE BACKSEAT OF A TAXI, potential lover is leaning provocatively against his luggage trolley. If you thought luggage trolleys weren’t sexy then ya haven’t seen Jericho within three feet of one. “Sure I can. How do ya spell that?” Smiling I take the marker.
11.35am “I…I…just...just can’t seem to find the...the…booking Mr Austin.” The silly chit says in nervy voice. I’d almost feel sorry for the receptionist except it’s my room she’s lost and I’m an angry, sexually frustrated pro wrestler who drinks too much with a bad reputation. I’d be afraid of me, come to think of it. “Listen Doll. I know yer doin yer best but I really, really have to have a room in this hotel. Do ya understand.” She stares at me numbly. It’s now fifteen hours since I last had my hands on Jercicho. Cranky is not the word. “I’ll…um…call the Day Supervisor.” I blame Vince.
1.27pm Ya know I’ve never realized how much of a turn on the Lionsault is. I mean, I know it’s a blonde guy doing a back flip off a big rubber band and all, but it’s really sexy watching him perform it. Even without someone to land on. And let’s not fuckin’ talk about when he lands it on his feet! If I wasn’t already in love, watching Jericho rehearse his moves is making me want to squeal like a fan girl. Well maybe not. I think I’m going insane from MSB. Massive Sperm Buildup.
5.23pm I’ve decided Maven doesn’t have an off switch. “...then Jaqueline literally rips the locker open with her fingernails and hands Randy the car keys….” I could wrap my knee brace around his throat. “…So he’s like, okay, I’m driving I guess…” Could try the brain splatter thing.
8.04pm Prepping thumb and forefinger I pinch that cute ass then duck as Chris instinctively swings around to take my head off. “Christ Austin, you don’t like breathing much do you?” he snarls. I grab Jericho’s wrist, leading him behind the blackout curtain. “I’ve been achin’ to do that all day,” I inform the blonde as I try to back him up against a partition with ‘Employees only’ printed on it. Resisting my not so gentle shove, Jericho takes hold of my ears and forces my face from his neck. “Fight the ache Babe, we’re working,” but the blue eyes are warm and amused. Grabbing Chris’ wrists I get back to work on the golden curve of neck, gently sinking in my teeth. The 200 odd pounds of muscle squirm enticingly against me so I bite a bit harder, leaving a red mark that’ll bruise by tonight. I’m actually surprised it takes him as long as it does. By doing some weird Canadian shit with his ankle, Chris reverses our positions. Soft, pink lips hover an inch from mine. “Austin?” The husky voice has its usual effect on my crotch. “Darlin’?” “We’ll deal with your aches later,” I knew he was as hot on the inside as he looks on the outside. “’Bout, fuckin’ time!” I never meant a sentence more in my life. Part 11 Chris Jericho has just finished buckling his belt, when there is a knock on his dressing room door. Frowning at the interruption and the throbbing pain from the mistimed kick to the head earlier in the show, he opens the door. In a split second he thinks of the one person in the arena he would like to see at his door while he is tired and hurt and the only one he wouldn’t want to see. Whatever higher powers there are obviously hate him because Bill Goldberg’s fist slams into his gut and sends him staggering back into the room. ‘Typical’, Chris thinks as one of Goldberg’s bodyguards follow the large man in and shuts the door, leaning broad shoulders against it. “Get out.” Jericho hisses, snatching his car keys from the bench, moving the pieces of jagged metal between each knuckle. Goldberg grins at the improvised weapon, his gaze devouring the shirtless man in front of him. A light red mark appears on Jericho’s abdomen, the result of the initial punch. The big man’s smile widens. Marking his territory. “Now don’t make me bruise up that pretty face Angel. I own your ass, so warm up a little and it may not hurt so much.” Goldberg signals his bodyguard to head to the right, while he moves left. “Make no mistake. If you try this, I will kill you.” The blonde holds his ground, tracking the bodyguard, uncertain of the brute’s skill. “Angel, you’re worth dying for.” Bill grunts like the boar he so often imitates and reaches for his prize. The fight is short and mean. Chris uses all the illegal moves that would get him arrested in most states. When it comes to dirty fighting not many can top the sheer brutality of Canada’s bar bouncers. But even a part-time job that has you subduing three drunken psychos with knives can only help so much against two guys much bigger and with some training, particularly the fucking bodyguard. As Jericho feels his wrists pulled high behind his back, tied with something that cuts his skin, wire? he smiles grimly at the brute who has his knee pressed into the blonde’s lower back, his hand holding the torn ear where a large hoop once hung. He’d nearly lost an eye too, but Goldberg had managed to clip Chris on the exact spot of the earlier kick, momentarily dazing the Canadian. That moment was Chris’ undoing, too much weight used against him, too much strength. He could only twist so much, they had overpowered him. The bodyguard pulls Chris to his knees and forces his face up with a vicious wrench to his hair. Spitting out the blood from a cut lip, Jericho raises his eyes to stare at a man he loathes beyond all reason. Panting slightly from pain and exertion Goldberg is undoing his belt, sliding it from the loops and fingering the metal buckle. Almost gently he slides the belt around Chris’ neck. “Angel. You’re gonna be punished for all that. You nearly turned Mac here into Foley and he’s not happy. “The big man grabs Jericho’s chin and rubs the pad of his thumb along the kneeling man’s blooded lower lip. “So I’m gonna fuck your mouth and then your ass. Then I might let Mac have a go, ‘cos he’s like family to me.” The brute leans against Chris’ back, licking his neck and breathing sour breath into his ear. “Thanks man.” The move has pulled some of Jericho’s hair back from his neck. Goldberg’s eyes slide along the golden skin to freeze on a small bruise on Chris’ pulse point. “What the fuck is that?” Bill growls, leaning down to examine the mark. Receiving no answer he stares into sharp sapphire eyes. “Who the fuck did this, you slut?” Chris remains silent earning him a hard slap across the face, golden hair flying wildly as his head is turned sharply to the side by the blow. Red now with fury and frustration Goldberg rants “You tease me constantly and won’t give it up, but you let some bastard touch you and leave his god dammed mark on your neck! Was it good Slut? Did you love it when he put his mouth on you? Huh? Huh?” “Yes. It was divine.” Jericho deliberately taunts. “His mouth makes me want…” Another hard slap, this time further opening the cut on his lip. More blood. “and when he put his hand on my….” Goldberg goes over the edge. “Fucking Whore! I’ll show you who’s your fucking master. He’ll never want to touch you again when I’m done with you.” Unzipping his jeans and pushing them down his hips, Bill pulls out his angry red cock and grabs Chris’ jaw again. “Open up Angel.” “I’ll bite it off you motherfucker so just fucking try,” Chris threatens. Another slap makes Jericho’s teeth rattle, “I feel teeth and I’ll break your legs.” Chris looks up into the distorted face of his nemesis and lets his mind drift away from his body. Blue eyes going dull, he resolves that he’ll have to break his promise. If he can’t make Bill kill him, the bodyguard will. He almost laughs at the sheer irony of the situation. “Austin, you shouldn’t have wasted your time.” The locker room door opens as Stone Cold pushes his duffle into the room. “Hey Gorgeous, can I leave this here? I gotta see Vince….” Austin stops dead as he takes in the scene before him. His boyfriend on his knees arms twisted behind his back by a panting stranger, Bill Goldberg dick in hand about to force it past Chris’ bloodied lips. The big man’s other hand holding a belt, currently looped tightly around the Canadian’s neck. He sees red. Jericho doesn’t take his eyes off Goldberg as he hears Austin’s deep Texan accent fill the room. He doesn’t want to see his boyfriend’s face, can’t bare it. As hysterical laughter bubbles into his throat the only thing his dazed mind can comprehend is astonishment. Chris’ gaze changes from remote despair to curiosity as he watches Bill turn towards the intruder. “He’s going to rape someone and he doesn’t lock the door?” Jericho thinks privately as all hell breaks loose around him. ********* HE’S FUCKING DEAD! I’m gonna kill him, kill the fucking goddammed SON OF A BITCH. Kill him Fucking DEAD! Yeah, you FUCK, take my shoulder in your gut and gasp you BASTARD. Hit me again, c’mon, HIT ME so I can break your god dammed face. Touch my lover would you, YOU CUNT! Put your filthy hands on his perfect body, huh? Try and put your dick in him? I’m gonna rip your cock off and ram it down your FUCKING THROAT.!! Touch a fucking hair on his head? I’m gonna KILL YOU RIGHT NOW. Don’t curl up, don’t beg ‘cos your DEAD in a minute. You try and rape HIM?!! I LOVE HIM you asshole, he gave himself to me, ME and you don’t get to have him now! UNDERSTAND you MOTHERFUCKER. Before you DIE, understand HE IS MINE. You hurt him, you touch him, YOU DIE!!! ********** Paul Levesque reaches CJ’s dressing room a split second before the rest of the locker room, roused by the noise from the hallway, mainly Stone Cold’s yelling. Taking in the scene in a glance his first thought is “Austin’s going to kill Goldberg.” Paul’s second thought is “who the fuck is the other guy?” Christian pushes passed him, dropping by Jericho’s kneeling form. Paul’s vaunted cerebral cortex kicks in ordering, ”Jesus. Mark, Test, Lance get Austin off him. Val and Helms grab that other guy.” In the hubbub that follows, the room seems to fill with wrestlers all trying to hold various combatants apart and checking on injuries. Christians voice reaches Paul from across the room, “Fuck! They tied his wrists with wire! The skin’s cut to ribbons.” Another furious obscenity from Stone Cold and the trio of wrestlers holding the enraged Texan have to pull him back from the fallen Goldberg again. Bill is curled fetal position on the floor while Flair tries to check him for injuries. Paul can imagine the problem, he can see Goldberg’s jeans lowered to his hips and knows what part of his anatomy he is holding in pain, despite the blood from other wounds. Paul can’t really sympathize, he’d seen Jericho. Flicking a glance at the man he now recognizes as one of Goldberg’s bodyguards, Paul wades through the throng to the circle of Boyos around the two fair-haired Canadians. That Randy and Maven are also being physically restrained from attacking Bill, does not ease tensions in the slightest. “Jesus Christian, get the belt off his neck.” Matt Hardy’s voice is wavering between anger and pain. Fuck, they put a belt on him. Austin must of heard Hardy because he breaks through the wall of bodies between him and Goldberg, planting a hard kick into the bigger man’s back. Once more hefted off his victim the frenzied man’s yelling sounds something like a bear’s growl. Other voices, some raised in anger, some trying to calm the noise, all rise to a cacophony of sound that rattles in Paul’s ears like an arena crowd. A sharp voice rips into the insanity like a knife. “LET HIM GO!” Jericho staggers from the arms of his attendants towards Austin. ********* Suddenly his arms and legs are released and he can see the FUCKING BASTARD who still isn’t DEAD! He takes a step towards his prey when he is impeded by someone. He looks down slightly, past blonde tangled hair into the eyes that sear his soul. The rage is gone, replaced by…Chris. My hands are trembling as I lift them to cradle his beautiful bruised face. Those bastards hit him in the face. They made him bleed. I still feel like I wanna smash something but I don’t as I tug my love into my arms. Turning, Chris still in my embrace, I walk us out the door. Part 12 Sound of fabric tearing like nails on a blackboard. Sharp crack as wood splinters in my hands. Bottles impact and break into a million pieces. The sharp shattering of a glass coffee table like a cry of pain. Fuck. My theme music starts with glass breaking. ******* Didn’t know I had it in me. Kill someone? Yeah, I reckon I could kill. But this? Haven’t done anythin’ like this in my life. I sit on a stained cream carpet and survey what was once a suite in the Hotel Du Monde. I took all the paintings off the walls. And smashed them on the bar. Then I threw the cushions off the couch, turned it over and kicked it into submission. I broke the glass coffee table with my foot, and ripped the curtains from their rod. I tore the couch to shreds with my fingernails and threw the contents of the bar fridge into the wall. Then I tossed the bar fridge onto the balcony. Without opening the glass door. I don’t feel any better. I nearly punched out the security guy who knocked on the door. Yelled every obscenity I could think of at him, shoved Vince’s card in his direction, then slammed the door into his face. Literally. I could feel the wood impact with his nose. Reckon he thought I was gonna kill him. Kill someone? Yeah, I could. If I had to. I wanted to, soooo badly. I wanted to watch Gol….him…bleed to death. I want him to suffer…hurt…. Not just because he tried to… Anyway, that would be reason enough as far as I’m concerned. But I want him to die because I think he’s cost me everything. He’s cost me Chris. ****** He’s so still. Like a shop mannequin waiting to be dressed. Jesus. I want to touch him so badly but I’m afraid my hand will freeze if I try. After I got him out of that room, we came here, to my hotel. Christian followed us with our gear and then left. Smart boy. Chris took a shower for about three hours and is now curled on the floor in a fluffy white hotel robe, leaning back against the bedroom door frame. Looking at me. I can’t even begin to read him right now. He’s all over ice, like armour. Realisation begins to set in and I start to shake, from cold or anger I don’t know, but Jericho spots it and his eyes snap to my hands. Hands that trembled while I wrapped bandages around his wrists. Thick, stupid fingers that couldn’t hold still while I poured disinfectant onto the cuts. He didn’t flinch. Guess in comparison it was hardly that painful. After long minutes he moves his eyes off me and surveys the wreck I made of the suite. Fine boned face still, eyes frozen and dead Chris takes stock of the damage. I know what he’s gonna say. The moment we entered the hotel foyer, when he pulled himself from my arms, I knew. When we stood in the lift, my t-shirt tied around his wrists, I knew. The card sliding though the lock, door opening, Chris just walking towards the bathroom, I knew. “I’ll wait.” I promise. “Don’t.” Those glorious sapphire blue eyes lock with mine. There is nothing there anymore. Not for me. “I’ll wait.” I repeat. “I don’t want you too.” “Tough.” Jericho’s razor eyes just keep cutting into me. “I don’t want you. Leave.” Anyone else would say his voice was nasty, mean. To me….agony. We enter a staring contest. One I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I ain’t gonna win. It seems like hours but he doesn’t give up, doesn’t sigh and accept my promise. Just looks at me, like I’m nothing. I want to will him to change his mind. Make him believe I can do this, force him to trust me. But forcing anything out of Chris right now is impossible. And despicable. I watch in frustrated anger as Chris Jericho goes hard as marble all over. Little by little I see him draw into himself, becoming self sufficient and completely isolated. One piece at a time he cuts me out of him, out of his heart and I can see it happening as if he was using a blade. I though he was cool before this all started. Now he isn’t even cold. He’s ice. He could be asking for directions, for all the emotion in his voice. “It was a nice idea Austin, but unrealistic. We should cut our losses and move on.” Like I could? “I can’t.” “Then learn.” It’s flat, final and brutal. What can I say? No you little bastard I’m not gonna let you push me away. I’m not gonna let you end us before we even began? All the arguments spring to my lips but looking at him I know they won’t work. Jericho isn’t gonna break down and cry in my arms. He’s not gonna deal with his feelings of humiliation and violation by leaning on me and making us strong. It just doesn’t work that way. I slowly stand feeling my age like never before and walk to the door. Why do all my conversations with Chris take place in hotel rooms? I feel bitterness rise in my gut. Anger that, given the circumstances is selfish and pathetic. God I’m a selfish prick. An asshole who won’t give his rape surviving boyfriend a chance to deal with anything. Selfish, stupid. I should stay. Should argue that I’ll stick around no matter what shit he’s dealing with. Weather he wants me or not. But I’m leaving and I can’t stop my tongue. “Nice idea? Huh? That all? Fuckin’ heaven to me!” I spit at him. I slam the door as I leave. ****** Sapphire eyes stare silently into the darkness. “Love you…Darlin’.” **** |