Title: Play to Win: The King's Gambit
Rating: M
Fandom: Wrestling, WWE
Pairing: Edge/Chris Jericho
Summary: Despite how many times it happens, Chris is always surprised. Summer 2009. Edge/Chris Jericho, slash.
Notes: This was started and written mostly during July 2010. It takes place during June of 2009, when Edge and Jericho were a tag team. I turned my iPod on shuffle looking for inspiration, and the first song to play was "You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell. To be honest, I don't remember precisely what about the song inspired this anymore. The story functions as a one-shot, but it was meant to be a trilogy. I lost inspiration before I could write the other parts, though.
"You knew who I was when you got into this, Chris. Don't pretend to be surprised." Edge said coldly after the door to the hotel room slammed shut. He stared at his partner scornfully, uncaring.
"I'm not surprised," Chris answered, but the shock that hadn't quite left his face belied his words.
"Sure," Edge said, taking a step forward. Chris automatically moved to step back, but he was already up against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared back at Edge. Edge just grinned unpleasantly and continued. "You're not surprised." He narrowed his eyes appraisingly, tilted his head to the side. "Just hurt."
He raised a hand to Chris's face, ran his fingers down his cheek in a gesture of mock tenderness. "But don't worry, Chrissy," he said, leaning in until they were nearly touching and his breath was hot in Chris's ear. "You're still my favorite fuck."
Chris shuddered at the touch despite himself. He could never help himself when it came to Edge. He knew him, knew that he would never be faithful, but when the evidence presented itself, he always was just a little bit surprised. A little bit hurt.
And then Edge would call him out on it, mock him for the weakness he could never quite conceal. But he would always come back, always smooth over harsh words with caresses, just as he was doing now.
So Chris would let Edge work his way into his good graces, let the warmth of Edge's body and the heat in Edge's eyes wash over his senses. Let him think it was a seduction, not a willing forfeit. Give Edge his body, and not let him see that his heart was part of the package.
He expected Edge to kiss him then, press his body up against his, showing the arousal that his previous tryst hadn't had time to take care of. But Edge hesitated for an instant, hand hovering over Chris's hip, an indefinable expression in his eyes, and Chris's body took over. He reached out for his partner, pulled him in by his hair and kissed him hard. He could feel Edge's body relax and his lips turn up into a grin against his.
"Mm, that's what I like about you, Chris," Edge murmured between kisses. "You never stay mad for long."
"What's there to be mad about?" Chris asked, tilting his head back as Edge's lips found his neck. "We have an arrangement, not a relationship." He kept his voice even, trying not to show his hand. And he could have sworn he felt Edge hesitate again, felt his hand still on his back before sliding down past the waistband of his pants. For a moment, he could imagine that Edge was disappointed he didn't care more. That Edge liked him jealous.
He quashed those thoughts quickly as he jerked back on Edge's hair, forcing him to make eye contact. It was Edge's turn to glare as he let go of Chris to touch his scalp gingerly.
"But, still," Chris continued, "I think you're making it up to me." He ran his hand through Edge's hair soothingly before pulling him in by the back of the neck.
Edge came grudgingly this time, wariness shadowing his expression. "What's there to make up for?" he asked. "I didn't do anything, and you're not mad." He put his hand back on Chris's hip, pulled them flush again. "Let's just get down to business."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Chris felt his lips curling up into a smirk, a germ of an idea forming in his mind. "You like fucking me? Well, tonight, I'm going to be the one fucking you."
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hear the rush of blood in his ears. Normally, he was more circumspect. Normally, he let Edge take the lead. But things were clicking into place, and he knew with a sudden clarity that this was where the evening had been heading all along. This was why Edge had brought his conquest back to the room, where Chris would be sure to find them. Why he'd kicked the rat out instead of Chris.
"You're going to be on your back for me, begging me like the slut you are." He said it calmly, matter-of-factly, and Edge's reaction only confirmed his instincts. Chris chuckled as he cupped the other man's erection, stroking him through his jeans. "That's what you like about me, Edge. I know what you really want. And I'm going to give it to you, you arrogant little shit."
He watched as the expressions warred on Edge's face, almost an exact mirror of what he himself had been feeling moments ago. Pride and principle, competing with the desire to simply give in. To admit that this was what he wanted, no matter what the cost.
For a long moment, Chris didn't know which would win out. For him, it was simpler. His feelings for Edge always made the choice for him. But Edge didn't love him, and if he wasn't exactly principled, he did have more than his fair share of pride. He didn't mind taking what he wanted, unless it conflicted with his image. Unless what he wanted was to be taken.
Just as Chris was getting ready to eat his words and relent, Edge's eyes hardened, solidified into one emotion. He took a deep breath, and Chris was almost certain he was about to be hit or be walked out on. In that moment, he wasn't sure which he would prefer; but before he could devote any more thought to it, Edge let the breath out in a huff of air.
"I guess maybe you do deserve it," he said softly, and Chris couldn't help the surge of triumph he felt any more than the liquid heat that went straight to his groin. He knew what Edge was doing, knew that he was putting this on him, shifting the responsibility away from himself and his own desires. But he didn't care. Not when Edge had never given in so easily before.
"But let's get one thing straight," Edge said, his voice regaining some of its former arrogance. "I beg for nobody."
Chris brought his hands up to Edge's shoulders. "Yeah. Nobody but me." He pushed Edge down until he was on his knees in front of him, and Edge went willingly, not even bothering to retort as he started to unbuckle Chris's belt.
Chris groaned as Edge's hands slid down his ass, pushing his pants and underwear out of the way. Cool hotel air conditioning hit him, but Edge's skin was warm against his own. But the hands slid away, and the breath that came over his erection in warm puffs of air receded. He looked down to find Edge sitting back on his heels, looking up at him. They made eye contact for a long moment, but Edge said nothing.
Chris reached for Edge's hair again, and Edge's eyes followed his hand as he wrapped a lock of it around his fingers. Edge moved back in before he had a chance to pull, and Chris shivered in anticipation. He'd told Edge that he was giving him what he wanted, and Edge had said that he was doing this for Chris, but he was discovering that the truth was somewhere in the middle. He might not need Edge to beg for him, but he did need to know that Edge would only do it for him.
He let his eyes slide shut as he felt the tentative touch of Edge's tongue along the underside of his cock. He pulled on the hair he was still holding to the point of pain. Because he could. Because Edge wouldn't stop him. Edge growled slightly, but like Chris predicted, he didn't stop his exploration, and Chris hummed approvingly. He might be one of many when it came to Edge's lovers, but he was the one that counted. He was the one that Edge would come back to. The one he'd yield to.
As Chris leaned back against the wall, he thought that it didn't matter if Edge begged or not. He'd already submitted, even if he wasn't aware of it yet; he'd given up that bit of himself that he would never be able to get back. That part that would always belong to Chris. Chris knew all too well what that was like, though he'd given it willingly. Gave it willingly, as he surrendered to the sensations, let his fingers go lax in long blond hair.
Later, when they lay in bed together, Edge murmured, "Don't think you'll be getting away with this next time, Chris."
His voice was heavy with satisfaction, any anger, any forcefulness overshadowed. Chris let it wash over him, absorbed the tone if not the words. He wasn't worried.
"We'll see," he said softly, more to himself than to the man beside him. But it didn't matter, not really. He had more of Edge than anyone had ever had and he could keep that memory forever, no matter how things went in the future.
That's what he held on to as he started to drift off. There would be a future, a next time to anticipate. Even if Edge never uttered the word "please" again for as long as he lived, he wouldn't stay away; he wasn't even planning on it. And there would be times like this, times when they shared the same bed. Times when he would swear they shared more.
Lost in the space between waking and sleeping, Chris thought he heard a sound, something between a mumble and a sigh. His name. Thought he felt the mattress shift behind him. And just like that, he wasn't drifting, he was waiting. Waiting for Edge to reach out, touch him on the shoulder, take him into his arms. But that wouldn't happen. No matter what he'd seen in Edge's eyes when he'd pushed inside, no matter how Edge's hands had trembled on his back before they pulled apart, it wouldn't happen. It never did. Edge never reached out, never held or let himself be held.
He exhaled slowly, but the feeling of expectation didn't pass. He was sure he'd imagined it, but sleep was pushed off by the feeling that someone had called to him and he hadn't answered. He sighed and turned over, telling himself that when he saw Edge, eyes closed and dead to the world, he would be able to sleep too.
But when he opened his eyes, Edge was looking back at him, his eyes shadowed by the darkness of the room and once again unreadable. Chris felt the urge to reach out to him, touch him. Cup his cheek in the palm of his hand and whisper… not that, but something. Something to release the tension that gripped him suddenly.
"Good night, Chris," Edge whispered eventually, and that was another thing he'd never done before. But despite the strangeness of it all, Chris felt the vice inside himself loosening. His eyes shut before he could decide whether or not he wanted them to, before he knew if Edge was closing his too.
As he finally slipped off to sleep, it never occurred to him to be surprised, or to wonder if something had changed. He knew Edge too well for that; if he remembered this later, it would seem too much like a dream. Like too many dreams he'd had.