Gonna Find a Way…
"This is it."
The door was unmarked. It looked like half a dozen doors the two of them had passed on the way. Where it led... Chris did not dare to contemplate.
"How can you be sure?" asked Chris.
Jeff looked at him like Jericho had grown the ears of a jackass. "It's the fourth door on the left after the second right on the next to bottom level. Weren't you paying attention when I explained all this before?"
In all honesty, Chris had been less than focused. His brain boomeranged between excitement and dread. His palms sweated. His pulse raced. His stomach was in knots. He was on the verge of throwing up every other minute. So, no… He had not, in actuality, been paying attention to Jeff's intricate directions.
"Just open the door before I come to my senses."
Open the door Jeff did.
The interior of the locker room was identical to Chris' and Jeff's. Wooden benches, metal lockers, cement walls. For some reason, Chris expected the room to reek of brimstone. Or to find the carcasses of animal sacrifices littering the floor.
The place was downright normal.
Jeff motioned for Chris to follow him further into the room. Speaking was strictly off limits until they returned to the relative safety of the hallway.
Deeper into the unknown the two men trekked. Chris' mouth was a desert. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His clothes were too tight, too constricting. He was hot. He was cold. He was on the verge of passing out. If he made it out alive, Chris swore never to associate with Jeff again.
The splash and trickle of water against tile reached their ears. Located at the end of the rows of lockers were the shower facilities. Clearly, the owner of said locker room was making use of them.
This was why they had come.
On tip-toe, the two inched around the corner.
Rather than employing stalls, the shower area was one large, open space. Five shower heads lined each wall, spaced a few feet apart.
Standing under the center spigot on the left wall, all alone, was their quarry.
Kane.
Naked.
Wet.
Steam from the heated water wafted around his body. Shifting on unseen breezes. Shrouding. Revealing. Hypnotizing.
Chris could not tear his eyes away. He had been stupefied. Whammied. Struck by the thunderbolt. Before him, completely unaware, stood one of the most formidable, most fearsome men in the industry. Kane's destructive nature was legendary. His conscious non-existent. Kane was terrible and terrifying. A walking nightmare. The monster that kicked open the closet door, over-turned the bed, and ate the children.
They should not have trespassed.
There was no escape for Chris. He was awestruck by Kane's beauty. No, Chris corrected. Not beauty. Magnificence. Sheer raw, undeniable power. From the curve of Kane's spine to the firmness of his ass. The span of his chest and shoulders. The thickness of his arms and thighs.
Why keep all that hidden? Chris wondered. Who was he saving it for? What lucky bitch or bastard got to wrap their legs around that waist or bear the thrust of those hips?
Kane turned his body to the side. Facing Chris and Jeff, but his eyes remained closed.
That was the reason they'd come.
Leaning against the thick cement wall, Chris simply basked. Drank in Kane, in all his glory. Chris owed Jeff an apology as well as a million thank-yous. This was well worth the danger.
Jeff formed a fist and held it out; Chris bumped it.
"You two gonna stand there all day?" Kane's eyes were still closed. It seemed their presence had not gone undetected.
Chris had no words. For the first time in what had to be forever, Chris Jericho was speechless. Two choices confronted him. Stay or run away. If he could get his legs to cooperate, Chris would have been out of there before the door hit him on the ass. A smirk playing across those sinful lips, Kane opened his eyes. His blue gaze pierced through Chris. Cutting through clothing, flesh, and muscle. Kane could almost see Chris' heart pounding in his chest.
This, thought the monster, would be fun.