Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or real people contained in this story, they are owned by WWE and themselves. This is just a work of fiction, nothing more, nothing less.
A/N: So someone on Twitter pretty much said I had to write smut about Chris and Stephanie's podcast, so here I am writing smut about Chris and Stephanie's podcast, even though I hate writing smut and think I'm terrible at it, so please go easy on me, but I still hope you enjoy and review!
The second she walked into the room, the sexual tension was near bursting.
It was nothing new to him though, having suffered from this for fifteen years. He couldn't explain why this only happened with Stephanie, how her simply walking into a room could make his pants feel a little tighter and his head feel a little lighter. She was just this presence that filled every corner of every room she was in. He sometimes wondered if this was an affliction that only affected him or if she did this for everyone.
When WWE asked him to do another live podcast, he'd been quick to agree, but he only had one request. That one request was that the interview would be with Stephanie McMahon. That was it, just give him Stephanie, and he'd jump right back into the fray. John Cena had been a formidable first interview, and he knew that John was specially chosen so that Chris's live podcast could gain enough footing to warrant more, he understood that, but this was the second one, and he wanted more freedom to choose.
She'd been his only choice, and maybe it was because he wanted to feel that tension again, wanted the room to fill with her and her indomitable spirit. Maybe he just wanted to be able to stare at her, listen to her talk, and not have everyone look at him like he was crazy whenever he found himself enraptured by her. In this instance, he would be able to look at her without reproach.
"Chris," she said lightly as she sat down across from him, scooting the chair closer to the table so she could rest her elbows on it. She gave him a half smile, one side of her mouth just quirking up enough to call it a smile.
"Stephanie," he said, his voice low and breathy. She raised an eyebrow delicately, and he chuckled and raised his voice, breaking that momentary spell. "How are you?"
"Doing well, a little jetlagged still."
"Oh yeah, you were in Asia, right?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded, punctuating it with a yawn. "Still getting used to the time, but hey, we should probably save this for the podcast, right?" She was always thinking business, and where others might find that annoying, he found it endearing because this was Stephanie, this had always been Stephanie.
There was something so sexy about a woman who knew what she wanted and did everything she could to have it, someone who took the bull by the horns and bent it to do her will. "Yeah, save it for the podcast."
"Thanks for having me on this, it'll be fun," she told him, her quirk of a smile turning up into a real one.
It was fun because he and Stephanie, no matter the time between when they saw each other, could fall into the same pattern they always did. It was the mixture of chemistry and sexual tension that stretched these last 15 years that propelled them through the interview until Chris was glancing at one of the production assistants who was telling him he had one minute left and he needed to wrap it up. He didn't want to though, and if he had his own way, he and Stephanie would talk well into the night, well into the next day, and maybe, just maybe, for the rest of their lives.
Instead he was signing off, and as soon as they were done, Vince was strolling back to them, congratulating them on a job well done and already plotting out future guests for Chris, but Chris was quite certain none of them would match up to Stephanie. Then again, in his mind, nobody could quite match up to Stephanie in body, mind, and spirit.
"Chris," she said, her voice suddenly a little shy, "do you mind taking a picture with me?"
He turned to her, face slightly flushed, and he figured it was with embarrassment, which was funny to him because she didn't embarrass easily. Hadn't she said a little earlier that she never really got embarrassed, not in the business they were in and to see her like this was something of a revelation. Stephanie McMahon could get embarrassed, who knew.
"Absolutely," he told her, scooting his chair closer. She handed her phone to someone she didn't recognize, having it already open to the camera app, and she scooted even closer to him, leaning in a little bit, causing him to reflexively put his arm around her, resting it comfortably over her shoulder, not as close as he would have liked, but her father was right there, and who knew if her husband was lurking around.
Paul had always felt that chemistry between him and Stephanie, maybe more acutely than Stephanie ever had. It was one of the reasons, one of the main reasons he and Paul didn't get along for such a long time. Chris knew it, Paul knew it, but Stephanie, as shrewd as she was, probably didn't know it, chalking it up instead to something career related probably.
"Say cheese!"
Neither one said it, but smiled instead. When the camera was handed back to her, Stephanie looked at the picture and nodded agreeably. "Thanks," she said, turning to him, his arm falling off her shoulder with the movement, and it was a good thing because if he was left to own devices, he might have kept that arm around her forever. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but she was whisked away by her father, always wanting to do more business, even though it was now 11:00 at night.
Chris took that as his invitation to start heading out. He walked back to makeup to get it taken off, his face wiped clean of the cakey stuff they put on him so as not to wash his face out on camera (that's what they told him at least) before heading back to the designated dressing room for him that evening. He doffed the clothes he'd been wearing all day, replacing them with a comfier t-shirt and looser jeans.
"Chris?" her head was peeking around the corner of the door that she opened so quietly he hadn't even heard a squeak.
"Hey, come to say goodbye?" he said, turning towards her with a smile. "I've got an early flight tomorrow, quick turnaround."
She ignored him and leaned her back against the door. He noticed that she was no longer wearing the sheer shirt thing she was wearing earlier, but was just in the black tank top that hugged her upper body in a way that it shouldn't. Her hair still fell loosely around her shoulders, and she licked her lips a little bit, watching him, studying him, and he felt like she was seeing straight through him, boring into places that nobody had ever gone before.
"Steph?" he said again, prompting her to say something, anything because like earlier, her presence in the room was ratcheting up the tension to dangerous levels.
"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, her voice soft and emotional.
"When I said what?"
"Did you really mean it when you said that I was the one who took you to the next level?" she asked, taking a few steps closer to him.
He gulped and nodded, "Stephanie, you have no idea the influence you've had on my career, none." He wanted to add life too because she would never know the influence she had on his life. It wasn't even in the big ways, no, Stephanie changed him in the littlest of ways, just a smile from her on one of his bad days was enough. It was in her that he came to realize that a person need not make grand gestures to be someone special.
"I had no idea."
"Now you do."
She nodded and repeated, mostly to herself, "Now I do."
He moved to speak, say something that might get the real reason for her being here out of her, but before he could, she was launching herself at him, her lips molding against his, and it was nothing like the two kisses they'd shared years ago where their mouths didn't seem to fit right. He'd convinced himself afterwards, when his heart would stop pounding at the thought of those kisses, that because their mouths didn't seem to fit right that they were not meant to be. They clashed too much to be perfect for one another.
He was so very, very wrong.
It must have been the circumstances, it must have been the frenzied nature of the ring that made their lips move in strange and awkward ways that didn't seem to click because right now, the way her mouth fused against his in the most perfect of ways, he knew then that this was exactly what he'd always expected when he kissed her. This was what he had waited for, for 15 years, and it was damn well worth the wait.
It was true, for all his daydreams and downright fantasies, he'd never actually touched Stephanie in more than a platonic way outside of their dealings in the ring. He'd always lived by propriety, and besides, he never knew if those fantasies and daydreams were ever returned in kind from her. He always suspected they might be, but she always seemed happy and unattainable, so he'd kept his distance while secretly wishing he knew what it was like to be with her.
"Stephanie," he finally pulled away, reluctant though he was, because he needed to know what was going on here and why she was being like this after 15 years of living by the law, of keeping away from each other and acting like they were nothing more than friends.
"No, more kissing, less talking," she said in such a childish way that he laughed. She seemed to snap out of it then, and he half expected her to run out of here in horror of what she'd done, but instead, she just looked up at him and gazed at him with such adoration that if she hadn't already stolen most of his breath with that kiss, she would have stolen it all with that look.
"Steph," and now her name was a prayer on his lips.
"I've waited years and years to do that," she confessed, "I just didn't know—"
Then it was all over because she'd been waiting too, and they'd been waiting for too, too long, and if he didn't act now, he never would. He lifted her up abruptly, his hands resting underneath her ass, cupping the cheeks possessively, pressing her into him as she wrapped her legs around his waist, which was slightly awkward because she was just as tall as him so there wasn't much leverage.
He didn't question this any further, didn't want to think about later or tomorrow or any of the consequences that would come after this. When you wait too long for something, any questions or concerns go completely out the window, and that was the case here. He'd spent too many years imagining this to question the whys and hows of it. He just wanted to feel this with her after so long. Never before in his life had he waited for someone for so long. Never in his life did he ever think she'd be in his arms, why think about tomorrow?
She finally put her legs down, but it was only so she could pull away and pull off her tank top, leaving her in a black lacy bra, and he resisted the urge to recall his two giant zits joke from earlier in the evening during their podcast. He's not too sure that'll go over well right now in the heat of the moment. She probably doesn't need that brought up, but speaking of them, he cups one in his hands and appreciates the size because he's always had a fetish for breast implants.
She pulled his t-shirt off, leaving him shirtless, and her hands roamed his skin like she was trying to smooth it out. Then her hands clasped the back of his neck as she pulled him down to kiss him again, not wanting to lose that contact. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra, figuring that this is where the night was headed.
She didn't seem to protest, but her hands did come up and pull off her bra without her lips breaking contact with his, and her breasts pressed up against his chest, and he felt her nipples getting hard against him. His right hand found her right breast, and he flicked at the nipple a little bit, helping it stiffen before his thumb grazed across it, rubbing it gently in soft circles.
She moaned against his mouth, and she was almost frantic as her hands go to his pants and start to struggle to get them off, "Stephanie," he managed to say to her, trying for one last vestige of coherency before he completely fell off the edge.
"I've wanted this for so long," she confessed against his mouth, the desperation hitting him like one of her slaps to his face. "I've waited for this for so long."
He didn't really have anything to say to that, didn't know how to respond. "I know," he told her simply because he did know because he'd been waiting too. It felt like there was too much between them, and he doesn't know why tonight feels like they've stripped each other bare, but they have, and they're here, and she finally unzipped his pants and her hand snaked inside, grasping at him through his boxers, which she quickly got inside as well.
Then words were just ignored completely in favor of feeling and doing. They really should have talked about this because they were both married, they had children and lives, and they were not teenagers fumbling around like it was their first time. This would have consequences, a rippling effect even if neither told a soul about it, they would know, they would remember. They really should say something before it got too far, but neither one really could.
He moaned against her mouth, his only words coming in little groans, while hers were little mewls of pleasure as he pushed her pants and panties down to the ground. Her hand stroked him to readiness, but before she could even attempt anything, two of his fingers sunk into her, and found her so ready that he was surprised his whole hand didn't slip right into her with how wet she was. She gasped as he twisted his fingers inside her, his thumb coming to rest on her clit, moving in slow circles as they backed their way to the couch in the room, falling onto it in a gasping, sweaty heap.
Chris pulled out of her and leaned up on one of his knees to completely pull off her pants and underwear, leaving her naked before him. Her eyes were hooded and filled with lust, but there was a little bit of trepidation there now that he could see her completely bare before him. She was a goddess, he decided, no, that wasn't even the right word for it, and right now, he didn't care to figure out the right word because he was smoothly sliding down the couch until his tongue was buried deep inside her, his warm hands resting on her inner thighs, pushing her apart so he could get as deep as he could. His tongue entered her without pretense, and she arched up into him so forcefully he probably almost broke his nose with the force of her pelvis against his face.
He could hear her whispering his name over and over again, and her hands were gripping at his hair, and he wasn't sure if she was pulling his closer, but he didn't care. She tasted addictive, to the point where he knew he would never be able to keep this a one time thing, no, this needed to be a fifty, one hundred, one million time thing, and in the back of his mind, he was trying to plot ways to make that happen, but he pushed those thoughts even further back because her hands were gripping his hair and pulling him up. She kissed him sloppily, tasting herself all over his face, and she made a move to sit up.
"You didn't," he told her.
"Not that way," she finished, and had they always been on the same wavelength, able to finish each other's thoughts like this. His philosophical moment was interrupted when she stripped him naked, making the move to start sucking him off, but he pushed her back on the couch.
"If you think I'm even going to last five seconds if you do that, you don't know me at all," he told her, making her laugh a little. The laugh spurned him on and he kissed her again, "God, I love you."
It slipped out. It slipped out so fast he couldn't even catch up with it to catch it before it hit her ears. Love was beyond lust, beyond want. If he'd kept it at that, fine, but then those words, why couldn't he catch those words! She looked at him with such an open expression of surprise that he almost pulled his pants back on and walked out of the building, onto a plane, into his car, and back to his home. Then there was a change in her expression as she looked at him so warmly, and she pulled him down to kiss him again.
"Thank you," she whispered towards him.
"I didn't—"
"No, I know you didn't mean to, but thank you, and I think…no, actually, I know I've loved you for a long time," she told him, pulling back so he could see the sincerity in her eyes.
That was it for him, and after that, he was lost to her, maybe forever, but certainly for right now. He slipped inside her slowly, relishing in the delicate way she gripped around him, and the way she softly moaned as she seated himself inside of her. He kept them like that for a second as they stared at each other in this first moment of coupling. Gone was the franticness of their lust, instead replaced with an intimacy both craved for far too long. It was slow at first, his hips moving in a soft rhythm, but then her hips rose up to meet him and their pace gradually grew until they both couldn't get enough of one another.
When it was over and they were spent, he stayed inside her, resting against her comfortably as neither one spoke. She stroked his hair lightly as his breath settled against her neck. "So what next?" he asked finally, knowing that this couldn't last, that they couldn't live inside this little bubble they'd created.
"I know we shouldn't have done that," she said slowly, "not this way, but…we can't stop, can we?"
"I know I can't, can you?"
"No, I can't either," she said, "so now we're stuck."
"Unless we unstick ourselves," he said, pulling away and looking down at her. It caused him to slip out, and it made her feel like their closeness was broken. The irony of the action and his words didn't slip by her, and she almost laughed.
"How do we do that?"
"I think first we have to face the truth that we want each other in each other's lives."
"I fully admit that."
"Second, I think we need to have talks with our significant others."
"I second that. And third?"
"Third is the most important." He said seriously.
"What is that?"
"Third is we start planning our lives together."
"I concur, so…good talk?" She punctuated it with a kiss.
"Good talk."