Title: Damn You, Denim
Author: THE Kid Hardy
Characters: Chris Jericho, Dolph Ziggler
Summary: Just a little something I came up with after seeing that completely delicious interaction between the Best in the World at What He Does (screw Punk; I'm talking about Jericho!) and Mr. Zigglesworth a few weeks back on RAW. It was so hot, I couldn't resist!
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone under the WWE umbrella; this means I do not own any WWE Superstar, Diva, announcer, commentator, or anyone that works backstage or in the corporate offices. I am merely a writer, who writes fictional literature to entertain readers. It is not my intention to offend or provoke anyone by any means; this is simply entertainment of the literary kind. Please do not seek legal action; there is nothing that you will get. All there is left to say is to simply enjoy!
Author's Note: I've written slash before, but never to this extent, because this was the first real pairing that I've been able to see genuine chemistry between from the very first interaction, hence, I felt the need to write a story about it. This is my first serious attempt at slash, and I'd appreciate any feedback that anyone is willing to give!
It all started with those denim jeans. And now Dolph Ziggler was trying to make his way backstage from the RAW stage without anyone noticing the nice, huge stiff erection he was currently sporting.
As he parted ways with his manager, Vickie Guerrero, a scowl formed its way onto his normally handsome face. Dolph didn't like being made a fool of by anyone, least of all a bitter old jackass like Chris Jericho, and he certainly didn't take too kindly to being laid out in the middle of the ring with a Codebreaker, courtesy of said old jackass.
His scowl deepened as his body continued to betray him and continued to proudly sport the stiffy, his cock twitching against the constraining material at the mere thought of having Jericho close to him. Though he'd wore a smirk on his face as Jericho left the ring area, once he reached the backstage area, that smirk turned to a scowl the minute he felt himself growing hard.
Before he'd joined the WWE, he'd been a fan of the blond Canadian; had even idolized him as Chris himself had done Shawn Michaels. But it was once he had actually gotten to the WWE and seen Chris Jericho for himself that the fantasies had begun. There had been many a night on the road where he would spend the night in his hotel room, stroking himself to the images that spun in his head of the Canadian: vivid images of Jericho stroking his cock with that arrogant smirk on his face, Jericho on his knees, that magnificent mane of golden hair cascading past his shoulders (in his fantasies, Jericho always had his gorgeous mop of blond hair back on his head) and his eyes closed in ecstasy as he tongued the younger man's balls or took his cock in his mouth and nearly sucked him dry, Jericho's eyes on him as he bobbed his head up and down on the older man's cock…or Dolph's own personal favorite, and the one he'd masturbated to the most frequently, the one where Jericho shoved him onto his back and fucked him until he could barely walk, those electric blue eyes piercing his own the entire time.
"Oh, my. Need any help with that, Dolph?" The sound of that disgusting little whore Kelly Kelly's voice nearly killed his arousal, and right then and there, he wanted to slap the shit out of her. Not only did her presence further agitate him, but the bitch actually had the nerve to speak in front of him, while he was thinking about Jericho! God, he really wanted to wring her neck right now…
"Fuck off, Kelly, not everyone wants that rancid hole you call a snatch," he snarled at her, and she gasped and huffed as he threw open the door to the Superstars' locker room, stormed inside, and slammed the door in her face.
He ignored the stares, whistles, and jokes that passed him by on the way to the shower area, not bothering to stop until he was within sight of the shower. "Don't you fucks have anything better to do than stare at my cock?" he snapped irritably at Kofi Kingston and The Miz, who were snickering openly, doing nothing but earn more chuckles. "Fuck off and let me jerk off in peace."
Kicking off his shoes near his locker, he stripped out of his suit, wrenching the tie off and tossing the jacket into his gear bag, the socks, belt, and pants following not too long after. He grabbed a towel and stalked into the shower area, hearing the other guys' murmurs gradually fade into the distance as he grabbed the handle for hot water and twisted it until the water began to cascade down upon him, completely drowning out the remaining lingering voices and leaving him to his own private world.
While he was caught in his own world, a world where only he and Chris Jericho existed and mattered, he didn't hear the door to the Superstars' locker room once again open. He didn't hear the voice he so longed to hear ordering everyone out, the grumbles, mumbles and whispers that came along with the order, or the sound of the door clicking closed and locked as the last Superstar, John Cena, filed out with a knowing smirk on his face. To Dolph, the rest of the world could go fuck itself; as soon as the water was on him, he had his cock in his hand and was slowly stroking himself to climax, his thoughts on Jericho and those damned denim jeans.
His ass was perfect inside those jeans; hell, everything was perfect inside those fucking jeans. That jacket would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else, but because it was Chris Jericho wearing it, it looked fabulous and tailor-made to fit his outgoing personality. In his mind's eye, Jericho was stripping that jacket off, his beautiful eyes now a wintry blue as he did so, watching him hungrily.
As bold as he had ever known him to be, his dream-Jericho strutted over and grasped his erection in his hand, eliciting a gasp from the younger man. His eyes snapped shut, and his hand began to move a little bit faster, as he pictured Jericho using his other free hand to fist his hand cruelly in Dolph's blonde locks and pull him in for a kiss, a kiss that clearly demonstrated who was in charge, and who was going to get exactly what he wanted. Dream-Jericho spun Dolph around, pressing him flush up against the wall and brought their lips back together, his hand continuing to grasp at Dolph's cock, pausing the kiss a few moments to tell him exactly what it was that he wanted. "Get on your knees and suck my cock," he commanded in that silky, arrogant tone of his that never failed to elicit shivers from the Show-Off, who immediately complied with the command, dropping to his knees to unzip those tempting denim jeans, open his mouth, and take the older man into his mouth.
He could hear Dream-Jericho's growl of pleasure the moment's Dolph's hot, wet mouth enclosed over his cock, and Dolph suppressed the urge to smirk triumphantly around the generously-sized instrument in his mouth, simply beginning to worship the cock that he'd been given by the object of his desires. He kissed it, ran his tongue delicately along the rigid length, and swirled his tongue around the head, eliciting groans and growls of approval from the Canadian.
Suddenly, Dolph was brought out of his fantasy by a pair of hands touching him; one hand was winding its way through his hair, the other slowly running its way down his torso. His eyes snapped open and his body tensed, preparing to beat the hell out of whatever douchebag was stupid enough to interrupt his fantasy, when he heard a soft, taunting voice in his ear, "Now do you really want to fight me off, and ruin the best orgasm you'll ever have?"
That voice…it could only be one man. Dolph's head whipped around to see Jericho standing behind him, his normally spiky blond hair falling into his eyes, framing that perfect face that only moments before had been glaring at him in anger because his mouth had gotten the better of him. He could only stare in astonished wonder as the object of so many of his fantasies stood right there in front of him, caressing his body. Seeing the younger man frozen and temporarily rendered stupid by his sudden appearance, Jericho smirked. "What's the matter, Zigg? Did I fuck up your plans by simply showing up again?" he taunted softly, that arrogant smirk returning.
As infuriated he was that he had been interrupted, he was also damn near ecstatic because the object of his affections was now standing in front of him, flesh and blood, and oh, sweet heavens, he was as naked as the day he was born, with his own generously-sized erection standing proudly at attention as well. Dolph's mouth instantly went dry, then he began to salivate as he stared down at it, just picturing that glorious piece of meat in his mouth. Jericho noticed Dolph staring unashamedly at his cock, and smirked again. "I can see you're distracted," he commented nonchalantly, removing his hands with a small chuckle. "See something you like?"
"Fuck yes," Dolph said, still eyeing the Canadian's erection hungrily.
"Then come get it." With those four words of encouragement, Dolph needed no further prodding; he dropped down to his knees and took Jericho into his mouth, savoring the flavor that assaulted his tongue from the first taste. Jericho was just as delicious as his fantasies had imagined—no, he was better, much better. The real thing was always so much better than fantasy, and Jericho was no exception. Dolph moaned contentedly around Jericho's cock, and Jericho uttered a soft "Damn…" placing one hand against the wall of the shower to brace himself, and running the other through the younger man's soft, damp locks.
For Dolph, this was pure heaven. Here he was, living out one of his fantasies with the man he'd desired since before he'd entered the wrestling business, sucking his cock as if it were the only thing standing between him and starving to death. Jericho chanced a glance down at Dolph, and saw the most beautiful sight he could have ever laid eyes upon: the younger man's eyes were closed in pure bliss; his cheeks hollowed as Jericho slowly began to fuck his mouth, thrusting into the hot wetness, his own eyes closing in ecstasy as he savored each sensation.
After a few moments, Dolph felt Jericho tug on his hair. "Get up," Jericho commanded in that husky voice, eliciting more shivers from the younger man. He did so, and was spun around against the wall, positioned just so that his gorgeous, tight little ass was sticking out just the tiniest bit, bringing a growl of satisfaction from Jericho's lips. Jericho disappeared for a moment, a moment that was long enough for Dolph to question whether the entire encounter had been a more realistic part of his fantasy, before reappearing with a bottle of lube in his hand and a triumphant grin on his face. Dolph remained where he was as Jericho returned to him; he popped the cap and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers before dropping it to the floor carelessly. He slicked his fingers with the slippery liquid, then slowly entered one into Dolph, who hissed at the sudden intrusion and began to tense up again, but a few small kisses pressed against his back calmed him enough for Jericho to continue his motions, eventually adding a second finger, scissoring his fingers, turning and teasing until Dolph was writhing against them each time they brushed his prostate, gritting out through his teeth that he wanted more than his fingers inside of him. A second later, the fingers were gone, and in its place was Jericho's slicked-up cock, making Dolph gasp out, slamming his hands against the wall to steady himself and to keep himself from slamming back against Jericho's enormous shaft.
"Holy shit," Dolph gasped out, his eyes snapping wide open as Jericho slowly pressed forward, easing his cock inside one inch at a time, until he was balls-deep inside the younger man. Both men paused at the sensation, moaning out loud together in unison, before Jericho withdrew nearly all the way, and thrust forward powerfully back inside, nearly sending Dolph's head crashing into the wall of the shower.
"So good," Jericho hissed through gritted teeth, closing his eyes in rapture at the feel of himself buried inside Dolph. He withdrew again, then thrust back inside, creating a furious friction that had the Show-Off nearly wailing with pleasure each time Jericho rammed into his sweet spot. Again and again he slammed into his prostate, and each time Dolph urged him on, loving each and every moment of it all. This was better than any fantasy that he'd ever entertained over the years; this was more his fantasy come to life, beautiful, ecstatic life, and he could not control himself as the sensations ran throughout his body, and, as Jericho rammed into his prostate one final time, he threw his head back, arching against Jericho and emitting a nearly deafening roar as he came, his cum splashing against the wall.
With a savage grin on his face, Jericho continued to ram into Dolph as he came, pressing him against the wall once again and ramming into his contracting ass, his fingers gripping Dolph's hips as he drove into him relentlessly. That grin faded into a determined snarl, and he redoubled his efforts, now focusing on his own climax, slamming mercilessly into the younger man's ass, hissing in satisfaction as Dolph began moaning and wailing as he climaxed a second time. Feeling Dolph tightening around him again, Jericho snarled harshly, relentlessly rutting into the younger man as his orgasm built up.
"Fuck," he growled out, and, unable to hold it off any longer, he bit down on Dolph's shoulder as he came, spilling his hot seed deep inside the Show-Off's tightness, shuddering deliciously as the waves of euphoria washed over him.
Once he'd come down from the high, he carefully slipped his spent cock out of Dolph's limp body, and looked over the younger man. The hot water ran deliciously over his tanned body, and he looked disheveled and well-fucked, a fact which brought another arrogant smirk to the Canadian's face.
As for Dolph…he could hardly stand, and he found it amazing that he was still able to do so. He had just had two amazing, back-to-back body-wracking orgasms courtesy of Chris Jericho, and had enjoyed every single moment of it. He turned to face Jericho, and a grin touched his face. "Thanks for that, old man."
Instead of growling in his throat like Dolph had expected him to do, Jericho simply smirked again, reaching over and patting the kid's cheek, before cupping the back of his head and drawing him in for another kiss, this one much more tender and passionate than the ones Dolph had always envisioned in his dreams. Reality is much better than dreams anyway, he decided to himself, getting lost in the kiss, and simply enjoying the feel of Jericho's lips on his.
Finally, Jericho broke away, patting Dolph's cheek again. "Anytime, junior. Hell, you play your cards right, and we'll be doing this again real soon. See you around, junior."
With that arrogant, devastatingly sexy smirk on his face, Jericho strutted out of the shower, leaving Dolph to clean himself off before making a hasty exit himself. When he reached his gear bag, drying himself off, he found a pair of folded-up jeans on top of the bag, with a note left on top. Picking the letter up, Dolph saw only a few words, but it was enough to bring a smirk to his face.
"Just a reminder of what you can be rewarded with, as long as you keep running your mouth, junior."
Dropping both the letter and the jeans into his bag, Dolph took his time getting dressed, not caring if anyone saw him naked or half-naked at that point. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, he'd finally made his fantasy come true, and it was all because of Chris Jericho and those fucking denim jeans.
Damn you, Chris Jericho. Damn you and those fucking jeans.