Author: Snarkcasm
Rating: M for inklings of smut
Summary: Jay should feel completely undressed compared to the younger wrestler (after all, worn chucks and UnderArmor under a wrinkled graphic tee doesn't quite compare to dress shirts and pressed khakis), but he wears his confidence like a cloak and it shows in the faint trembles Captain Charisma could feel under his fingertips.
Pairing(s): Chrodes (Christian/Cody Rhodes), one-sided!Chrandy
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the WWE or the wrestlers mentioned in the story. This is a story of fiction and I make no money from it.
Author's Note: I'm excited about this new alliance, can't you tell? I had to get this out of my head before I could focus on schoolwork. I wrote this because I firmly believe that Christian/Jay has the ability to be a fandom black dress—he truly goes with anyone! Title come from an Imogen Heap song of the same name.
Cody jogs up to him, all energy beneath his acrylic mask. Jay's teeth nearly rot from being in the man's puppyish presence, but he pastes on a welcoming, bordering-on-sly grin and angles his body towards the Intercontinental Champion. Cody's a sweet kid—Jay would have felt terrible about what he was going to do next, but…
Nah.
"Interesting storyline we're in, huh?" He leans in, languid, predator-like, fixing the kid's perfect half-Windsor and brushing light finger down the silk tie. Jay should feel completely undressed compared to the younger wrestler (after all, worn chucks and UnderArmor under a wrinkled graphic tee doesn't quite compare to dress shirts and pressed khakis), but he wears his confidence like a cloak and it shows in the faint trembles Captain Charisma could feel under his fingertips.
It's almost too easy, Jay thinks in hindsight, as he lures Cody away from the rest of the herd with a leer and a tilt of his head. He leads the man towards a dark corner, soothing him with promising looks under long, blond eyelashes and lingering touches. 'Come here, little rabbit, I won't bite' his grin seems to say and Cody is terribly receptive. Jay takes the time to admire that; rarely are his partners attentive—Jay has a type after all and Cody, for all his…enthusiasm, doesn't quite fit the mold.
Jay's breath hitches as Cody, sans mask, tentatively noses along his bearded jaw. What a good boy. Jay is nothing if not appreciative as he rakes his nails down Cody's chest, catching on the other man's nipples. Jay presses his back flush against the stucco drywall, using Cody's bulk to hide his own. Perhaps it's cowardly, but Jay has a carefully maintained persona to keep: look, don't touch. Hips plaster to hips, clothed erections press and slide against each other. Cody moans quietly, inky eyelashes fluttering closed against a tanned, freckled cheek, and Jay's heartbeat increases at the spike in the danger level. He nearly chuckles; Cody was in for a surprise.
No preempting, no indication, nothing shows on his face as his hands dive into Cody's pants, past high-end jockies, and straight for the goods. Cody jumps against him like a skittish colt, and Jay does laugh at that, half-naughty, half-desperate. The pedigreed wrestler feels so good in his hands, of average-size but nice and weighty. Smiling like a kid in a candy shop, Jay yanks down the rest of the zipper and undoes the belt with his free hand, stepping back against the brunet's protesting to watch the pressed khaki slide down narrow hips and beefy thighs. He takes an almost strange pleasure in the fact that Pretty Boy Cody looks so…disheveled—that this eloquent man trails off into incomprehensible whimpers and pleas in the palm of his hand.
Jay licks his lips as he takes in Cody's cock for the first time. Barely contained within its silky confines, Cody's bulge looks so damn tempting. Jay wants…he wants to tease the spongy red head out to play, to lavish his attentions on all that circumcised playground. Heat curls low in his belly, but before he could sink to his knees, a sharp, angry rumble has Cody scrambling to pull up his pants, apologies tumbling from his lips as he flees with his dignity in tatters.
Oddly enough, Jay relaxes in the face of Randy's all-encompassing anger, limbs loose and a smirk already curling his lips. "I almost had him," he starts wistfully, radiating amusement as Randy's glare darkens. He rubs his fingertips together feeling the tackiness of cooling precum slide around in the grooves. He brings his fingers to his mouth—if he can't have Cody, he could at least have a taste—but a meaty hand grips his wrist and slams the delicate muscle and bone against the wall.
"You are such a slut, Reso."
Jay hums noncommittedly, but his body responds to the nearness of the other man. Even now, he arches into Randy's presence but not to touch, never to touch. He tests the other man's grip and his smirk wavers as the grip tightens. Time to redirect. "I bet it annoys the hell out of you, huh, tough guy?"
"No. I am curious, though…how many STDs do you have?"
Jay's eyes narrow, and Randy must have sensed that head butt coming a mile away because he tilts his head back just in time. The Viper didn't expect the slap though, and a vicious thrill tingles up Jay's spine at the reddening flesh. A knee slides in to press against Jay's unflagging, wholly stupid dick as his other wrist is caught and pressed into the wall. It's both a threat and a promise that the Canadian can see in flat blue eyes. "Not that I need to answer you or anything, but I'm clean, prick," he spits out. "Let me go now."
Randy purses his lips as if thinking and never had Jay wanted to kick someone in the nuts so badly before. "What are you going to do—sik your lawyers on me?"
"How many times did you get punched in the skull tonight? Newsflash: Christian's my character, I'm not him." He says this slowly as if talking to a child. Which Randy was, a little child upset that he's not getting any attention. And here Jay thought that Mike was the most attention-whorish man he had met (and slept with, but that was neither here nor there).
"Not too sure about that—you both are whiny, manipulative bitches."
"That was completely uncalled for. Completely." Bad enough that his best friend kept pointing that out, both on the show and through texts; Jay didn't need Randy on his nuts too. "Now, I'm going to ask you nicely, again. Let. Me. Go."
"Why Cody?"
Jay stops, eyebrows furrowing in honest confusion. He had to have reason to go after someone now? News to him. What business was it of Randy's? Jay's eyes widen. "Oh. Did you call dibs?"
"Did I—? No! No." Jay almost feels offended for Cody. The kid isn't half bad looking, and from what he gathered from Maria and Ted, Cody was a considerate lover…not that he'd ever get the chance to test that out now. "I'm not—"
"If you didn't call him…then why do you care what we were doing?"
"I don't care who you screw—"
"Good."
Randy carries on as if he hadn't heard Jay. "But I don't want to look at it."
Jay's lips curl halfway between a smirk and a sneer. 'Poor Randy-boy', he thinks derisively. It's been, what?, a month—maybe two— since the St. Louis show? Sam was off taking care of their baby alone—she didn't have time or energy to be her husband's booty call, so Randy-boy must be feeling all that tension. Jay finds himself lucky to have a wife like Denise, who lets him do whatever he wants providing he slips her Divas' phone numbers on the sly. Hey, she has her urges; he has his. They were a perfect couple.
He rubs himself against Randy's padded knee, finding the Apex Predator donned in only his ring gear oddly hot. Mid-hump, he realizes that he won't be able to wrestle the man anymore without popping an embarrassing boner, and he freezes. The spell breaks; Randy shifts away in sharp, jerky movements.
Coward, Jay seethes, grabbing Randy by his thick forearm. "You're such a fucking coward," he says out loud, his blunt nails digging into dark skin.
"Am I now?"
And Jay is sick of it. Sick of his smug, holier-than-thou attitude, his sideways glances. Then, it hits him; oh, he was a fool. "You don't want Cody," he says unthinkingly.
Randy doesn't say a word.
An electrical buzz thrums under Jay's skin. All this time working together—their feud this entire summer—and Jay didn't realize the Viper wanted him. For once, Captain Charisma's silver tongue is silent as both Superstars ruminate on this newest development. But Jay can't be silent for long when things are on his mind; they both know that. "How…uh, when?"
Randy bursts out in quiet, almost self-loathing laughter that sharply twists Jay's stomach. "Does it matter, Reso?"
"Yes."
"Why? So you can mock me for how long I've stood off to the side watching you have sex with anything that moved?"
Jay bristles at the implication. Whenever he had sex with someone, there was a mutual agreement: if the SO objected in any way, it didn't happen. William Jason Reso was many things but a cheater was not one of them. He lets go of Randy's arm and shoves both hands in his jean pockets, shouldering his way past the taller Superstar.
He pauses and looks over his shoulder. "You know, Orton, we could have had something…maybe something great…if only you were man enough to actually speak up instead of hiding so far in the closet you can see Narnia. Next time, don't go the passive-aggressive route, okay? It doesn't suit you." Head held high, Jay walks away with his gym bag in hand and heads out the door.
A/N #2: I *might* be up for continuing this as a series of smuttish, semi-connected one-shots. Tell me what you think, especially which wrestler you want Christian to be paired up with next. I'll try to make it happen.
