The Gentleman's Bet

Chris Jericho took a swig from his water bottle as he eyed the monitor in front of him. Freshly showered and dressed, he now sat in an empty locker room watching the match he'd just competed in. He hadn't expected to be working that night, having only dropped by the ECW tapings to scout talent for his Bragging Rights team. His mere presence seemed to ire the brand's GM, leading to him being placed in an impromptu match with Christian. A match which Jericho had lost, regrettably.

As much as he hated to lose, it hadn't exactly been an embarrassing defeat. After all, his opponent was certainly formidable. It had been about five years since he'd been in the ring with his long-time friend and former tag partner, and Christian had massively upped his game since then. In fact, everything about the way he carried himself nowadays seemed fresh, invigorated, inspired. He was no longer the same smarmy young man he'd been back in the early 2000s.

Watching Christian's fluid movements on the screen, Jericho indulged himself in studying every inch of the other man's lithe form. Christian had always been in great shape, but this leaner look was most alluring; like a big old rebellious 'fuck you' to the higher-ups who used to tear him down about his size. Jericho noted the stubble adorning his friend's face and chuckled, thinking back to when he and Christian would room together on the road and to how long Christian would spend in the bathroom mirror, carefully grooming his understated goatee. This new rugged appearance, along with his cropped bleached hair, made him look far manlier. Masculinity wasn't a feature Jericho usually found attractive in other men; he was a sucker for a pretty face. But there was something about his old friend that was tickling his fancy in a big way…

Suddenly aware of a looming presence behind him, Jericho was startled back to reality. He glared up at the smirking face of his fellow veteran. Looking as debonair as always in a hand-crafted suit, William Regal regarded his co-worker coolly.

"Are you still creeping around here, sunshine?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going over my match," Jericho replied, returning his attention to the screen. "Even perfection can stand for a little fine-tuning."

Ignoring the lazy egoism, Regal followed Jericho's gaze in time to see Christian gain the pin-fall. Hearing that theme music hit made his jaw clench. He'd found himself counting the lights numerous times in recent months after unsuccessfully trying to wrestle the ECW championship away from Christian. No matter what nefarious tactics he tried, he just couldn't seem to come out on top. It had reached a point where he'd started to question whether he'd lost his touch, whether he'd gone soft with age. But in retrospect, it was more likely that Christian had simply become tougher to handle.

There was a determination and maturity about the lad nowadays that Regal found himself greatly enamoured with, as much as he hated to admit it. He'd always found Christian rather attractive, albeit annoying, and being around the younger man on such a regular basis was doing little to quell that attraction. His feelings had grown strong enough that he would often act upon them, venting his desire by flirting candidly with Christian whenever he caught him alone backstage. But although his efforts were usually reciprocated, it never felt like enough. He wanted so much more than mere talk. Perhaps this was why he hadn't been able to pull off a win recently. It was a terrible bind he found himself in; torn between professional desire to beat the living daylights out of Christian and take his title, and personal desire to ravage him until he couldn't walk straight. Quite the quandary…

Watching as Christian celebrated in the ring, sweat dripping down his taut golden skin, Regal licked his lips absently.

"Slippery little devil, isn't he?"

No reply came, but one glance at Jericho's face told Regal that their minds were battling with similar thoughts.

"Fantastic arse on him though," he continued. "Absolutely fantastic. And the things I'd do to that obnoxious little mouth of his…"

"Mm, tell me about it!" Jericho chuckled, eyes still glued to the screen as Christian ascended the ramp. "I don't know what it is about him, but there's just something that makes me wanna pin him to the nearest wall and fuck his brains out."

"Have you ever had the pleasure?"

"Not yet."

"You sound hopeful."

As the screen faded to black, Jericho stood and turned the monitor off. "And why wouldn't I be? He's available, as far as I know."

"And you're assuming he'd be interested in you?"

"I'm assuming I'd have a better chance with him than others would. You, for example."

"Well, you'd assume wrong."

Jericho let out a laugh so forceful that he had to grab onto the monitor to steady himself. "Wow, William! It's glaringly obvious that you're getting old, but when did you start going senile? You've been nothing but a pain in Christian's ass this past few months! He can't stand you!"

Unaffected by Jericho's mockery, Regal smirked. "Ah, Christopher. So eloquent, yet so simple-minded. You've heard of that proverbial fine line between love and hate, haven't you? Things aren't always as they seem. You haven't witnessed the flirtatious glances Christian and I often exchange, or the knowing smile he gets on his cheeky face whenever I toss a double entendre or two his way. If anyone stands a chance with him around here, dear boy, it's me."

"Whatever. Flirting aside, you're nothing to him. He and I used to be best friends. Closer than brothers. We have history."

"And history is all you have. You can reminisce to your heart's content. It won't alter the state of play here in the present. Christian and I have an unspoken thirst for each other, far more meaningful than some bygone friendship. I could have him any time I wish."

Jericho studied Regal's confident expression for a moment while an idea quickly formed in his mind.

"Care to put your money where your mouth is, William?"

Regal quirked an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I bet that I can lure Christian to bed before you can even get a look-in."

"Now that's a bet I'd care to take. Might I enquire as to the stakes involved?"

"If - or rather, when - I win, you make the necessary arrangements for Jackson and Kozlov to join my Bragging Rights team."

Regal nodded. That was doable. It wouldn't take much to persuade his two monstrous lackeys to partake in their first ever pay-per-view match.

"And if I win?"

Jericho snorted. "It won't happen. But if the miracle does occur, I'll call in a few favours and see to it that you get another shot at the ECW championship."

William's interest peaked. He'd often contemplated whether taking Christian's title would be a more delectable experience than sleeping with him. The chance to make the comparison in reality was most welcome. He extended a hand to Jericho, which was firmly accepted.

"You have yourself a deal, Christopher. I just hope you don't feel too rotten when you lose."

"Best of luck, Sir William. You'll need it."

Regal chuckled darkly. "Oh, I think not. After all, who needs luck when you have time on your side? This may have escaped your attention, but after tonight, you'll have toddled off back to Smackdown where you belong. Whereas I'll remain right here, with the lovely Christian, on our close-knit little brand. You're the one in need of luck, my dear."

Although the cocky smile remained on his face, the confidence in Jericho's eyes waned noticeably. With a malicious smirk, Regal left Jericho to contemplate his words. As he strode into the hallway, his mind was already so tied up with elaborate schemes of seduction that he didn't notice an eavesdropper lingering near the open doorway…