More wayward fic - all wrestling
Title: Marked
Author: Sulwen
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slightly rough sex, minor bloodplay
Pairing: Shawn Michaels/Chris Jericho
Word Count: 2143
Summary: Shawn reminisces about the past and decides to take control of the future. Basically, blatant sex with plot thrown in.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Author’s note: Takes place immediately after this week's Raw (4/28/08). This story is written in character (as if the on-screen characters and storylines were real). I've always loved this pairing, and I wish there was more fic about them. With them being brought back together lately, I couldn't resist writing something. If anyone has good recs for this pairing, I'd love to read them!
Even after all these years, Shawn was still amazed at the lengths Chris would go to in order to publicly humiliate him. He was even more amazed to find how much it still hurt. But perhaps the most surprising event of that evening was his own reaction to seeing Chris in that tux.
The product was failing. As a company, they were making more money than ever before. But to someone committed to the art of wrestling the way Shawn has always been, it didn’t matter if the people liked how the shit tasted. It was still shit. And so he’d been pulling farther and farther away from it in the past few months, still doing everything he could in his few moments on-screen to deliver something worth watching, worth paying for, but distancing himself from everything and everyone backstage, knowing that if he voiced his disgust, punishment would soon follow. He was too old to play that sort of game anymore.
Chris, however, had caught his attention. Oh, he’d dallied with Chris in past days as he had with most of the good-looking men in the company, but the sparks had soon turned ugly, and it all ended as most of Shawn’s short-lived relationships did - in the ring. They’d been working very separately since then, one of them usually gone on leave or with an injury, and Hunter was dominating most of Shawn’s time lately anyway. But recent events had brought them close again, and Shawn couldn’t deny that the attraction was still there. Chris still looked as young and beautiful as he had six years ago, and he still had a way of flashing those blue eyes at you that sent shivers all through Shawn’s body. Moreover, he’d done everything within his power to stick himself right in the middle of the whole business with Dave - something Chris shouldn’t rightly have been a part of at all.
And that brought them to tonight, this late April Raw in New Jersey, when Chris had decided to come right out and say - if not in so many words - that this wasn’t about Dave at all. This was about the two of them, and the unfinished business that had been too much for one pinfall to put behind them.
Shawn slumped onto a bench in his empty locker room and rubbed wearily at his eyes. He knew exactly how the story played out from here. It was always the same. Chris would continue to taunt him in ever more unique and embarrassing ways, and eventually it would become too much and Shawn would attack him. And then there would be a match, maybe two, maybe more, depending on whatever the nutcases behind the scenes deemed appropriate. It was possible that catharsis would happen in the ring, and they could both have the closure that had been eluding them. It was more likely that the close and emotional physical contact a match demanded would only worsen the situation.
At that thought, a memory from when he and Chris had first hooked up flashed before his eyes, in full and vivid color. He could almost feel smooth lips pressed against his, bodies coming to rest flush against each other, one of his hands pulling roughly at the other man’s then-long hair, baring his neck for Shawn’s teeth. The taste of salt flooded his tongue, and his ears filled with the incomparable sound of Chris’s stifled moans. He had brought this memory to mind countless times after, alone with his hand stroking ever-faster and even, on occasion, when he was with other men. The thought of those too-quick moments between kissing and fucking, when they had simply been entwined, hardness rubbing against hardness, was always enough to send him over the edge.
Shawn shook himself and opened his eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes, deeply annoyed with the situation. He was tired, and his knee hurt, and now he was hard, too. It was weariness more than anything else that drove him to Chris’s locker room, a deep desire to have things just over with, one way or another.
He opened the door without knocking, without even contemplating what he would find. Chris was facing away with him, holding a cell phone in one hand and slipping the various parts of his tuxedo back into its garment bag with the other. Shawn could almost hear him smirking as he chattered happily into the phone.
“Yeah, and thanks again for loaning it to me. I know, I know, I really should own one, but you know me - I prefer the rock star look whenever possible.” Turning to see who was at the door, Chris met Shawn’s eyes and paused a moment, his expression unreadable. “Hey, do you mind if I call you back?” he asked, hardly waiting for an answer before clicking the phone shut and dropping it into the carry-on bag on the floor. A few moments passed in tense silence. Finally, Chris spoke again. “So are you coming in or did you plan to just stand there all night?” he asked.
Shawn shook his head. “You always did like to joke when you were nervous,” he replied, his voice hard.
Chris laughed, the false laugh he usually reserved for when he was on camera. “Nervous? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Biting his tongue on a cutting response, Shawn stepped into the room and closed the door. Tone as serious as he’d ever been, he asked, “What are you doing, Chris?”
“Well, I’m getting ready to head back to the hotel for the night. What are you doing, Shawn?” The reply was drenched in sarcasm, and that infuriating smirk was back.
“I’m serious. This stuff with me and Dave was none of your business, and even if you felt like it was, it’s over now. Why are you still ripping on me?”
A non-committal shrug. “It’s fun.”
Shawn scoffed. “Fun? Yeah. Fine. Act like a child. Suits the audience nowadays, anyway.” Before Chris could get off another insulting reply, Shawn spoke again quickly, reminding himself of why he’d come. “But don’t think that I’m going to play along with your little games. Not this time. I’m through with you. Maybe I’m through with all of this - I don’t know. I just can’t take it anymore….” He trailed off, wondering if he’d already said too much.
Suddenly, the smirk was gone, and Chris looked as serious as Shawn felt. His blue eyes were no longer narrowed in cruel laughter but wide and open, almost concerned. His voice was much softer when he asked, “Can’t take more of what, Shawn?”
Turning away, Shawn took a deep breath. He’d almost decided not to respond at all when everything came pouring out, and once he’d started, he had no power to stop it. “I can’t take working for a company I’m no longer proud to be a part of - that I don’t even like. I can’t take getting injured every year because my body is ready to quit before the rest of me is. I can’t take getting older as the guys around me seem to be younger every day. And…I can’t take wrestling another match with someone I want but can’t have.” He raised his head and met Chris’s eyes. “It just hurts too much, and there’s not enough good left here to balance out the pain. So just drop it, all right? I’m asking you, as a colleague - just let it go.”
Chris paused a moment, then approached Shawn until he was standing close behind him, almost touching. He tilted his head up slightly, just enough to speak softly into Shawn’s ear, and Shawn could feel warm breath on his skin as Chris replied: “No.”
Shawn’s face fell, and he turned, determined to try to reason with the other man until he got his way. But Chris went on before he could utter a word.
“You were honest with me. The least I can do is return the favor.” Chris didn’t take his eyes from Shawn once as he spoke. “I know things didn’t go well for us last time…in fact, I can’t see how they could have gone much worse. But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head ever since, and believe me, I’ve tried. You didn’t seem interested whatsoever, and I can’t blame you, considering. It’s just…it’s not how I wanted it, but I decided that if I couldn’t have you outside the ring, at least I could have you inside it. You said you couldn’t bear another match with someone you wanted but couldn’t have. I couldn’t bear another month without being near you, touching you, in any capacity. But…now that you’re here…maybe we could have something better than a match.”
Shawn was suddenly very aware of the nearness of their bodies, and he could feel the erection that had never fully receded coming back in full force. He steeled himself, something within him holding back from what he’d desired for so long.
“I don’t love you, Chris,” he said, not knowing why.
The other man nodded. “I know. But that’s not what I need from you. I need…”
Shawn didn’t wait to hear any more. Instead, he grabbed Chris by his shirt and spun them around, forcing him back against the wall. Blue eyes flared in desire, and that was all it took to shatter the remaining barriers between them. Bodies crashed together and lips met in a fury of heat. Shawn found himself reaching for long hair that no longer existed, but he didn’t need it - Chris arched his head back, offering his neck, and Shawn leaned in, biting almost hard enough to break the skin. The hard body beneath him writhed in ecstasy, and Shawn pressed down even harder, pinning Chris so he could barely move. When he finally pulled away, the bruises were already beginning to show on Chris’s neck, and Shawn smirked, panting. “You never looked more beautiful than when my marks were on you,” he said darkly, and he was rewarded with a flashing grin and hands working at the zipper of his pants. Within seconds, Chris had a hand wrapped around him, and Shawn lost all capacity for thought for a moment when he realized that Chris still remembered exactly how he liked it done. Unable to wait any longer, he unbuttoned Chris’s jeans and slid them down just far enough to bare his ass. He backed away just long enough to turn Chris around before pinning him against the wall again. In another moment, Shawn was sheathed inside the tight heat of Chris’s body, drinking in the sounds of mixed pain and pleasure pouring from the other man’s mouth. He made no attempt to draw out the process, instead fucking Chris hard and deep with every thrust. One hand made its way around to Chris’s cock, stroking him in time with each thrust. Shawn lost himself in Chris the way he did in the best of his matches, when everything simply clicked and all that was left was the sheer physical pleasure of it. When he could feel the end approaching, Shawn’s mouth found Chris’s neck again, and this time when he bit down, the blood flowed. He came with the taste of Chris’s blood in his mouth and Chris’s cock convulsing rhythmically in his hand.
Neither man moved for a long moment afterwards. Eventually, Chris stirred and Shawn backed away to let him move. Turning to face him, Chris leaned back against the wall, smiled, and asked, “You still thinking about leaving?”
Shawn didn’t answer at first, merely drank in the sight before him: Chris Jericho, looking satisfied at having been well and thoroughly fucked, a deep bruise blooming on one side of his neck and a thin trickle of blood flowing down the other. He grinned. “Not a chance in hell.”
As they both rearranged their clothing and attempted to make themselves presentable to the outside world again, Shawn smirked and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking. This whole match idea might be a better idea that I’d thought.”
Chris laughed, sounding genuine this time. “Is that so?” he asked.
“Think you can take me, pretty boy? After all, I was the one who pinned you last time, if I remember correctly.”
“Well, I’ve heard that the memory is the first thing to go, old man,” Chris teased. “But I like your thinking. Think they’ll go for it?”
Opening the door, Shawn turned back and settled his hat back onto his head, feeling for the first time in years like the old Shawn Michaels, the one who had truly earned all the nicknames people used for him, the one who practically ran this company - hell, this business.
“We won’t give them a choice.”
Title: Two DX Drabbles
Pairing(s): HHH/HBK
Rating: #1 is PG, #2 is R for language
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Summary: Drabble #1 - Takes place the night DX reunited on Raw. Shawn runs out to save Hunter from the Spirit Squad, with Vince at the top of the ramp calling the shots. Pretty much AU.
Drabble #2 - Inspired by jadedblue's idea of Randy and Edge as Hunter and Shawn's former lovers.
#1
All it took was the space of two breaths. Two hard breaths, quickened by the thrill of the fight - and of looking each other in the eyes once more, so many years later. There was no time for doubt, no time for second thoughts. In that space, there was only time for a connection that had been broken to be reforged and made stronger than ever. Made unbreakable. And after that, it all fell into place, as surely as if it had been planned in advance. Foes fell, and then they came together, so close, knowing they couldn’t do what they really wanted, not here, but coming as close as they could. And the feeling was indescribable, sweaty skin on sweaty skin, their combined scents something that nothing, no one, could ever duplicate, their breath mingling between oh-so-close lips.
And then, through the exhilaration, through the sudden rush of desire, they remembered the man behind the pain, the punishment, the humiliation - the man full of hate and fear standing at the top of that ramp. The man who had only in the last few months discovered what had happened between them all those years ago, and had been so effected that he’d taken it out on them now. He was staring with a look of abject horror, and it was sweet, so sweet to see. The crowd didn’t know, would never know, exactly what the two men in the ring were fighting against, and they preferred to keep it that way. But fighting they were, for everything they stood for, for the love they shared, and now that they were together, no one, not even this man, could stand in their way.
And they couldn’t get enough. It was over - the battle had been won, the screaming of the crowd had faded, the lights would soon dim. But still they stood in the ring, touching, looking, feeling. Knowing that it could never be the same as before, and yet it was the same, and at the same time different. Wondering why they had ever let this go in the first place. Feeling, in that moment, that nothing could ever break them apart again.
#2
“You fucked him?”
Hunter looked shocked. Shawn and Edge…it just…unsettled him, for some reason - beyond the fact that the idea of anyone fucking Shawn but he himself was unsettling.
Shawn shrugged. “Yeah. He’s pretty.” No response. “And I was drunk.” Still nothing. Shawn sighed, defeated. “Ok, I was desperate. How was I supposed to know that he was gonna go all creepy-obsessive on me?”
“Because he’s Edge.”
“Oh. Well, you fucked Randy!” Shawn retorted.
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Randy was my bitch. He knows better than this. He never would have done anything if that fuckin’ blonde bastard hadn’t put this idea in his head.”
A momentary silence.
“So what do we do?” This from Shawn, who always deferred to Hunter on important matters.
Hunter’s face took on that look of frightening intensity that only happened in two situations - when he was about to come, and when he was severely pissed off. “We beat them. We show them that it doesn’t matter what they do, or who they bring, or how low they go. We’re better than them individually, and we’re damn sure better than them together.”
Shawn nodded, agreeing, but there was still a doubting look on his face. “You know they could put us out. They’re younger, and they would do it. They won’t hesitate to put us on the bench for good.”
“I know,” Hunter replied. He took Shawn’s head into his hands, bringing their faces close together, foreheads touching, noses touching tips, lips barely separated. “But I’m willing to take that risk - for us. For this. And I know you are, too.”
And when the space between them closed, and their lips met, everyone else ceased to exist, and there were only two bodies entwining as one.
Title: DX Drabble #3
Pairing(s): HHH/HBK
Rating: PG for a little cursing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Summary: Shawn gets revenge against Rated RKO. Hunter watches. Though you don't have to read them to read this one, this fic is a companion work to the two drabbles I posted a few months ago.
“I go out there with one partner and one partner only, and that’s Triple H.” Shawn was still talking on the TV screen, but Hunter had stopped listening at that last line. It wasn’t true, in the literal sense - Shawn had partnered with many people in the past, and he would likely team with many more in the future - but that wasn’t what he was talking about, and Hunter knew it even if no one else did.
Vince had come to them after the injury, after the pain and the hospital and the days of regret - and yes, grief. He’d asked what they wanted to do, and Hunter had to respect him for that. The man hated them and everything they stood for, hated them as individuals and even more as…whatever you could call them together, whatever the word was for close like brothers and close like lovers at the same time. But Vince had overcome his personal opinions - for once - and done the right thing. He’d wanted to keep the group going, maybe bring in a free agent or two, keep the momentum while they had it. Hunter had kept quiet, watching Shawn for his reaction. It was so much like last time, so much like the past he’d tried to forget - he wanted to believe that Shawn had grown, matured, wouldn’t do that to him again, wouldn’t exploit everything they’d built together just for the fame and fortune of it, but he wasn’t sure. When Shawn had, after a long pause, shaken his head and refused any new partner, something in Hunter relaxed, as if he’d been holding his breath, and at that moment, everything was ok again.
And now he was in that most hated place, at home, watching Raw from a distance, seeing every detail of where he should have been tonight unfold from hundreds of miles away - watching his lover as he stood alone against impossible odds. Shawn would have told him to relax, that impossible odds were his specialty. But Hunter almost couldn’t bear to watch the beating Shawn was taking, and all for him, for some romantic idea of vengeance. Shawn couldn’t win, would probably get injured himself, and then here they’d be, two old warriors, sitting out the battles together and reminiscing about the glory days. Hunter cursed Shawn for his damned stubborn nature…
…and then fell in love with him all over again. Shawn had somehow, some way, stolen a moment of time from the two bastards beating him and retrieved a sledgehammer from under the ring. His sledgehammer, his weapon of choice. And even though Hunter was no expert at lip-reading, the words Shawn was speaking came through loud and clear: “This is for you…this is for you.”
And as Hunter watched his lover destroy the opposition and end the night standing tall - battered and bloody, but victorious - in that ring, pride rose in his heart, pride and a love that no one could ever injure, no matter how hard they tried.
Author: Sulwen
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slightly rough sex, minor bloodplay
Pairing: Shawn Michaels/Chris Jericho
Word Count: 2143
Summary: Shawn reminisces about the past and decides to take control of the future. Basically, blatant sex with plot thrown in.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Author’s note: Takes place immediately after this week's Raw (4/28/08). This story is written in character (as if the on-screen characters and storylines were real). I've always loved this pairing, and I wish there was more fic about them. With them being brought back together lately, I couldn't resist writing something. If anyone has good recs for this pairing, I'd love to read them!
Even after all these years, Shawn was still amazed at the lengths Chris would go to in order to publicly humiliate him. He was even more amazed to find how much it still hurt. But perhaps the most surprising event of that evening was his own reaction to seeing Chris in that tux.
The product was failing. As a company, they were making more money than ever before. But to someone committed to the art of wrestling the way Shawn has always been, it didn’t matter if the people liked how the shit tasted. It was still shit. And so he’d been pulling farther and farther away from it in the past few months, still doing everything he could in his few moments on-screen to deliver something worth watching, worth paying for, but distancing himself from everything and everyone backstage, knowing that if he voiced his disgust, punishment would soon follow. He was too old to play that sort of game anymore.
Chris, however, had caught his attention. Oh, he’d dallied with Chris in past days as he had with most of the good-looking men in the company, but the sparks had soon turned ugly, and it all ended as most of Shawn’s short-lived relationships did - in the ring. They’d been working very separately since then, one of them usually gone on leave or with an injury, and Hunter was dominating most of Shawn’s time lately anyway. But recent events had brought them close again, and Shawn couldn’t deny that the attraction was still there. Chris still looked as young and beautiful as he had six years ago, and he still had a way of flashing those blue eyes at you that sent shivers all through Shawn’s body. Moreover, he’d done everything within his power to stick himself right in the middle of the whole business with Dave - something Chris shouldn’t rightly have been a part of at all.
And that brought them to tonight, this late April Raw in New Jersey, when Chris had decided to come right out and say - if not in so many words - that this wasn’t about Dave at all. This was about the two of them, and the unfinished business that had been too much for one pinfall to put behind them.
Shawn slumped onto a bench in his empty locker room and rubbed wearily at his eyes. He knew exactly how the story played out from here. It was always the same. Chris would continue to taunt him in ever more unique and embarrassing ways, and eventually it would become too much and Shawn would attack him. And then there would be a match, maybe two, maybe more, depending on whatever the nutcases behind the scenes deemed appropriate. It was possible that catharsis would happen in the ring, and they could both have the closure that had been eluding them. It was more likely that the close and emotional physical contact a match demanded would only worsen the situation.
At that thought, a memory from when he and Chris had first hooked up flashed before his eyes, in full and vivid color. He could almost feel smooth lips pressed against his, bodies coming to rest flush against each other, one of his hands pulling roughly at the other man’s then-long hair, baring his neck for Shawn’s teeth. The taste of salt flooded his tongue, and his ears filled with the incomparable sound of Chris’s stifled moans. He had brought this memory to mind countless times after, alone with his hand stroking ever-faster and even, on occasion, when he was with other men. The thought of those too-quick moments between kissing and fucking, when they had simply been entwined, hardness rubbing against hardness, was always enough to send him over the edge.
Shawn shook himself and opened his eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes, deeply annoyed with the situation. He was tired, and his knee hurt, and now he was hard, too. It was weariness more than anything else that drove him to Chris’s locker room, a deep desire to have things just over with, one way or another.
He opened the door without knocking, without even contemplating what he would find. Chris was facing away with him, holding a cell phone in one hand and slipping the various parts of his tuxedo back into its garment bag with the other. Shawn could almost hear him smirking as he chattered happily into the phone.
“Yeah, and thanks again for loaning it to me. I know, I know, I really should own one, but you know me - I prefer the rock star look whenever possible.” Turning to see who was at the door, Chris met Shawn’s eyes and paused a moment, his expression unreadable. “Hey, do you mind if I call you back?” he asked, hardly waiting for an answer before clicking the phone shut and dropping it into the carry-on bag on the floor. A few moments passed in tense silence. Finally, Chris spoke again. “So are you coming in or did you plan to just stand there all night?” he asked.
Shawn shook his head. “You always did like to joke when you were nervous,” he replied, his voice hard.
Chris laughed, the false laugh he usually reserved for when he was on camera. “Nervous? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Biting his tongue on a cutting response, Shawn stepped into the room and closed the door. Tone as serious as he’d ever been, he asked, “What are you doing, Chris?”
“Well, I’m getting ready to head back to the hotel for the night. What are you doing, Shawn?” The reply was drenched in sarcasm, and that infuriating smirk was back.
“I’m serious. This stuff with me and Dave was none of your business, and even if you felt like it was, it’s over now. Why are you still ripping on me?”
A non-committal shrug. “It’s fun.”
Shawn scoffed. “Fun? Yeah. Fine. Act like a child. Suits the audience nowadays, anyway.” Before Chris could get off another insulting reply, Shawn spoke again quickly, reminding himself of why he’d come. “But don’t think that I’m going to play along with your little games. Not this time. I’m through with you. Maybe I’m through with all of this - I don’t know. I just can’t take it anymore….” He trailed off, wondering if he’d already said too much.
Suddenly, the smirk was gone, and Chris looked as serious as Shawn felt. His blue eyes were no longer narrowed in cruel laughter but wide and open, almost concerned. His voice was much softer when he asked, “Can’t take more of what, Shawn?”
Turning away, Shawn took a deep breath. He’d almost decided not to respond at all when everything came pouring out, and once he’d started, he had no power to stop it. “I can’t take working for a company I’m no longer proud to be a part of - that I don’t even like. I can’t take getting injured every year because my body is ready to quit before the rest of me is. I can’t take getting older as the guys around me seem to be younger every day. And…I can’t take wrestling another match with someone I want but can’t have.” He raised his head and met Chris’s eyes. “It just hurts too much, and there’s not enough good left here to balance out the pain. So just drop it, all right? I’m asking you, as a colleague - just let it go.”
Chris paused a moment, then approached Shawn until he was standing close behind him, almost touching. He tilted his head up slightly, just enough to speak softly into Shawn’s ear, and Shawn could feel warm breath on his skin as Chris replied: “No.”
Shawn’s face fell, and he turned, determined to try to reason with the other man until he got his way. But Chris went on before he could utter a word.
“You were honest with me. The least I can do is return the favor.” Chris didn’t take his eyes from Shawn once as he spoke. “I know things didn’t go well for us last time…in fact, I can’t see how they could have gone much worse. But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head ever since, and believe me, I’ve tried. You didn’t seem interested whatsoever, and I can’t blame you, considering. It’s just…it’s not how I wanted it, but I decided that if I couldn’t have you outside the ring, at least I could have you inside it. You said you couldn’t bear another match with someone you wanted but couldn’t have. I couldn’t bear another month without being near you, touching you, in any capacity. But…now that you’re here…maybe we could have something better than a match.”
Shawn was suddenly very aware of the nearness of their bodies, and he could feel the erection that had never fully receded coming back in full force. He steeled himself, something within him holding back from what he’d desired for so long.
“I don’t love you, Chris,” he said, not knowing why.
The other man nodded. “I know. But that’s not what I need from you. I need…”
Shawn didn’t wait to hear any more. Instead, he grabbed Chris by his shirt and spun them around, forcing him back against the wall. Blue eyes flared in desire, and that was all it took to shatter the remaining barriers between them. Bodies crashed together and lips met in a fury of heat. Shawn found himself reaching for long hair that no longer existed, but he didn’t need it - Chris arched his head back, offering his neck, and Shawn leaned in, biting almost hard enough to break the skin. The hard body beneath him writhed in ecstasy, and Shawn pressed down even harder, pinning Chris so he could barely move. When he finally pulled away, the bruises were already beginning to show on Chris’s neck, and Shawn smirked, panting. “You never looked more beautiful than when my marks were on you,” he said darkly, and he was rewarded with a flashing grin and hands working at the zipper of his pants. Within seconds, Chris had a hand wrapped around him, and Shawn lost all capacity for thought for a moment when he realized that Chris still remembered exactly how he liked it done. Unable to wait any longer, he unbuttoned Chris’s jeans and slid them down just far enough to bare his ass. He backed away just long enough to turn Chris around before pinning him against the wall again. In another moment, Shawn was sheathed inside the tight heat of Chris’s body, drinking in the sounds of mixed pain and pleasure pouring from the other man’s mouth. He made no attempt to draw out the process, instead fucking Chris hard and deep with every thrust. One hand made its way around to Chris’s cock, stroking him in time with each thrust. Shawn lost himself in Chris the way he did in the best of his matches, when everything simply clicked and all that was left was the sheer physical pleasure of it. When he could feel the end approaching, Shawn’s mouth found Chris’s neck again, and this time when he bit down, the blood flowed. He came with the taste of Chris’s blood in his mouth and Chris’s cock convulsing rhythmically in his hand.
Neither man moved for a long moment afterwards. Eventually, Chris stirred and Shawn backed away to let him move. Turning to face him, Chris leaned back against the wall, smiled, and asked, “You still thinking about leaving?”
Shawn didn’t answer at first, merely drank in the sight before him: Chris Jericho, looking satisfied at having been well and thoroughly fucked, a deep bruise blooming on one side of his neck and a thin trickle of blood flowing down the other. He grinned. “Not a chance in hell.”
As they both rearranged their clothing and attempted to make themselves presentable to the outside world again, Shawn smirked and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking. This whole match idea might be a better idea that I’d thought.”
Chris laughed, sounding genuine this time. “Is that so?” he asked.
“Think you can take me, pretty boy? After all, I was the one who pinned you last time, if I remember correctly.”
“Well, I’ve heard that the memory is the first thing to go, old man,” Chris teased. “But I like your thinking. Think they’ll go for it?”
Opening the door, Shawn turned back and settled his hat back onto his head, feeling for the first time in years like the old Shawn Michaels, the one who had truly earned all the nicknames people used for him, the one who practically ran this company - hell, this business.
“We won’t give them a choice.”
Title: Two DX Drabbles
Pairing(s): HHH/HBK
Rating: #1 is PG, #2 is R for language
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Summary: Drabble #1 - Takes place the night DX reunited on Raw. Shawn runs out to save Hunter from the Spirit Squad, with Vince at the top of the ramp calling the shots. Pretty much AU.
Drabble #2 - Inspired by jadedblue's idea of Randy and Edge as Hunter and Shawn's former lovers.
#1
All it took was the space of two breaths. Two hard breaths, quickened by the thrill of the fight - and of looking each other in the eyes once more, so many years later. There was no time for doubt, no time for second thoughts. In that space, there was only time for a connection that had been broken to be reforged and made stronger than ever. Made unbreakable. And after that, it all fell into place, as surely as if it had been planned in advance. Foes fell, and then they came together, so close, knowing they couldn’t do what they really wanted, not here, but coming as close as they could. And the feeling was indescribable, sweaty skin on sweaty skin, their combined scents something that nothing, no one, could ever duplicate, their breath mingling between oh-so-close lips.
And then, through the exhilaration, through the sudden rush of desire, they remembered the man behind the pain, the punishment, the humiliation - the man full of hate and fear standing at the top of that ramp. The man who had only in the last few months discovered what had happened between them all those years ago, and had been so effected that he’d taken it out on them now. He was staring with a look of abject horror, and it was sweet, so sweet to see. The crowd didn’t know, would never know, exactly what the two men in the ring were fighting against, and they preferred to keep it that way. But fighting they were, for everything they stood for, for the love they shared, and now that they were together, no one, not even this man, could stand in their way.
And they couldn’t get enough. It was over - the battle had been won, the screaming of the crowd had faded, the lights would soon dim. But still they stood in the ring, touching, looking, feeling. Knowing that it could never be the same as before, and yet it was the same, and at the same time different. Wondering why they had ever let this go in the first place. Feeling, in that moment, that nothing could ever break them apart again.
#2
“You fucked him?”
Hunter looked shocked. Shawn and Edge…it just…unsettled him, for some reason - beyond the fact that the idea of anyone fucking Shawn but he himself was unsettling.
Shawn shrugged. “Yeah. He’s pretty.” No response. “And I was drunk.” Still nothing. Shawn sighed, defeated. “Ok, I was desperate. How was I supposed to know that he was gonna go all creepy-obsessive on me?”
“Because he’s Edge.”
“Oh. Well, you fucked Randy!” Shawn retorted.
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Randy was my bitch. He knows better than this. He never would have done anything if that fuckin’ blonde bastard hadn’t put this idea in his head.”
A momentary silence.
“So what do we do?” This from Shawn, who always deferred to Hunter on important matters.
Hunter’s face took on that look of frightening intensity that only happened in two situations - when he was about to come, and when he was severely pissed off. “We beat them. We show them that it doesn’t matter what they do, or who they bring, or how low they go. We’re better than them individually, and we’re damn sure better than them together.”
Shawn nodded, agreeing, but there was still a doubting look on his face. “You know they could put us out. They’re younger, and they would do it. They won’t hesitate to put us on the bench for good.”
“I know,” Hunter replied. He took Shawn’s head into his hands, bringing their faces close together, foreheads touching, noses touching tips, lips barely separated. “But I’m willing to take that risk - for us. For this. And I know you are, too.”
And when the space between them closed, and their lips met, everyone else ceased to exist, and there were only two bodies entwining as one.
Title: DX Drabble #3
Pairing(s): HHH/HBK
Rating: PG for a little cursing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Summary: Shawn gets revenge against Rated RKO. Hunter watches. Though you don't have to read them to read this one, this fic is a companion work to the two drabbles I posted a few months ago.
“I go out there with one partner and one partner only, and that’s Triple H.” Shawn was still talking on the TV screen, but Hunter had stopped listening at that last line. It wasn’t true, in the literal sense - Shawn had partnered with many people in the past, and he would likely team with many more in the future - but that wasn’t what he was talking about, and Hunter knew it even if no one else did.
Vince had come to them after the injury, after the pain and the hospital and the days of regret - and yes, grief. He’d asked what they wanted to do, and Hunter had to respect him for that. The man hated them and everything they stood for, hated them as individuals and even more as…whatever you could call them together, whatever the word was for close like brothers and close like lovers at the same time. But Vince had overcome his personal opinions - for once - and done the right thing. He’d wanted to keep the group going, maybe bring in a free agent or two, keep the momentum while they had it. Hunter had kept quiet, watching Shawn for his reaction. It was so much like last time, so much like the past he’d tried to forget - he wanted to believe that Shawn had grown, matured, wouldn’t do that to him again, wouldn’t exploit everything they’d built together just for the fame and fortune of it, but he wasn’t sure. When Shawn had, after a long pause, shaken his head and refused any new partner, something in Hunter relaxed, as if he’d been holding his breath, and at that moment, everything was ok again.
And now he was in that most hated place, at home, watching Raw from a distance, seeing every detail of where he should have been tonight unfold from hundreds of miles away - watching his lover as he stood alone against impossible odds. Shawn would have told him to relax, that impossible odds were his specialty. But Hunter almost couldn’t bear to watch the beating Shawn was taking, and all for him, for some romantic idea of vengeance. Shawn couldn’t win, would probably get injured himself, and then here they’d be, two old warriors, sitting out the battles together and reminiscing about the glory days. Hunter cursed Shawn for his damned stubborn nature…
…and then fell in love with him all over again. Shawn had somehow, some way, stolen a moment of time from the two bastards beating him and retrieved a sledgehammer from under the ring. His sledgehammer, his weapon of choice. And even though Hunter was no expert at lip-reading, the words Shawn was speaking came through loud and clear: “This is for you…this is for you.”
And as Hunter watched his lover destroy the opposition and end the night standing tall - battered and bloody, but victorious - in that ring, pride rose in his heart, pride and a love that no one could ever injure, no matter how hard they tried.