Defection, Part 3
"One... two..." Megan counted for the tenth time. She was really getting irritated at both Punk and Jericho. Neither man had been able to win and the repeated near-falls was making it almost impossible for her to get to her extra-large daiquiri that sat untouched at the timekeeper's table.
"One... two... unghh!" Make that eleven.
Punk looked up at the referee as if to say 'what do you want me to do?'
Megan glared at him.
"Tell him to finish the match... now!" A familiar voice in her ear rang out.
Megan waited until she could catch Punk's eye without Jericho noticing. She nodded to him, and he nodded back.
"Rope break." She called
"What?" Jericho demanded "He was nowhere close."
"I said rope break." Megan repeated. "One... two... three... four..."
"Fine." Chris let CM out of the hold. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic." Megan replied "How 'bout you?"
Chris rolled his eyes.
While they were talking, Punk, following Alexx's instructions, had gone out of the ring to find something with which he could disqualify himself.
"This'll do nicely." He thought, grabbing a nearby chair.
Sliding back into the ring with his new weapon, he lined the seat up with Jericho's broad back and swung.
CRACK!
Jericho screamed in pain and fell to his knees. Another shot to the back and he fell onto his stomach. A third one across the shoulder blades made his point.
Megan smiled and called for the bell.
"The winner of the bout as a result of a disqualification... Chris Jericho."
The audience booed.
"However, due to this being a Smackdown title match, the champion is still CM Punk."
The boos turned to applause and cheers.
"Cult of Personality" started to play, but was very quickly interrupted by another familiar, but less adored, tune.
"My name is..."
"Who gave that ass wipe air time?" Alexx shouted. Fearing the worst, she headed for the gorilla position.
"I would just like to make a quick announcement." Lauranaitis had very quickly gone through his spiel of who he was, what he did, and who we worked for. "On behalf of minority owner Vince McMahon, I wish to inform you all that R.A.W. has acquired the following talent: Dolph Ziggler, Vickie Guerrero, and Jack Swagger. In exchange, I wish to present the newest member of the Smackdown Roster... CM Punk!"
The reactions of the audience could be summed up like so: "What the fuck?"
"Hang on a minute, Johnny." Alexx ran on stage, a live mic in her hand. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
John smiled. "I figured you might try something like this. Have your man get himself disqualified to keep the Smackdown title in your greedy little hands."
Alexx shrugged like it was no big deal.
"But I didn't realize how blatant you were going to be until a certain member of your roster came to talk to me before the match."
Alexx turned her head slowly to stare toward the ring. Phil was busy admiring his reflection in the title belt.
"What the hell is going on here, Punk?" Alexx demanded
"What?" Punk answered "It's nothing personal. It's just business."
"Just business?" Alexx couldn't believe her ears. "Whatever happened to 'You tried to bury me, Johnny-boy, and if it comes down to working for you or working here... I don't believe I'm saying this, but I'm staying here.'"
Hearing his own words thrown back at him didn't seem to phase Phil. "Like I said, it's just business."
"If that's the way it's gonna be, then forgive me, but this is just business. RAW roster get out here and show your appreciation for everything Phil has done." Alexx shouted
Phil sensed what was to come. Before he could become roadkill to the oncoming big rig that was the entire RAW talent, he sprinted out of the arena by way of the crowd. He made a sharp turn at the concession stands and doubled back toward the one safe haven he thought he had... his tour bus.
He jumped aboard and within seconds of the door closing, there was a pounding of fists upon it. Fearing it was the roster coming to get him, he was reluctant to open the door. Hiding inside the shower, he hoped that whomever it was would quickly hurt his hands and/or go away.
When the pounding didn't subside, Phil got up the nerve to see who it was. It was Jericho, looking pissed off but not looking like he wanted to kill him.
"I know you're in here, Punk!" Chris rattled the frame. "Now open the damn door ass clown before you get us both killed!"
Even though they were now on the same side, so to speak, Phil was hesitant.
"If you don't open this door, I'll tell the guys where to find you!" Chris' threat worked. Phil quickly opened the door.
"Damn man, you sure do know how to turn a crowd." Chris wiped the sweat from his forehead. Like Phil, he was still wearing his ring gear.
"Money talks." Phil shrugged
"But you can't take it with you." Chris gazed around the vehicle. "Nice. Wish the brass would shell out for one of these for me."
"Maybe they figured that you're sick of traveling in buses, being on the road with Fozzy."
"Pfft!" Chris snorted "Lear jets all the way. But it would be nice to have some place I could stretch out my legs from time to time."
"It is nice." Phil agreed. "So are you expecting me to drive you out of danger or was there something else you wanted?"
"Well... it would be a nice thing to do after what you did to me in the ring." Chris answered
"Sorry, I don't run a taxi service." Punk answered
Chris tilted his head. "You know, you are one arrogant son of a bitch. Just because you have the title and Johnny in your back pocket..."
"Save it for someone who gives a rat's ass." Punk interrupted Jericho. "I am so sick of people telling me what to do, what to say, and what kind of person I should be. I am the champion and I deserve respect!"
"It took John Lauranaitis and a fat cheque for you to figure that out, did it?" Jericho retorted "Punk, I guess it's true what I've been saying all along. You are a hypocrite."
"A hypocrite? Me? Look who's talking, Mr. Cowtow-to-the-fans. You can never decide which side of the fence you like so you end up with a picket shoved so far up your ass, that every time you talk, you get a mouthful of slivers."
"At least I'm honest with myself."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Phil barked
"Figure it out, bright guy." Chris answered "Your entire life is a lie. Hell, I don't think you even know the meaning of Straightedge."
"Shut up, Chris." Phil growled
"You know what I think. I think you're just like the rest of the gelatinous tapeworms on the planet. You take what you can get and when that isn't enough, you fall back on your high horse to give yourself an ego boost."
"Shut up, Chris." Phil repeated
"You wanna know something else... everyone on Smackdown knows about you and Kofi."
"I said shut up."
"Did you like it, Phil?" Chris taunted him. "Having a cock in your hand? You probably did. Hell, if those cops hadn't shown up, I'll bet you would've sucked Kofi right off... or would you have taken it up the ass? Huh, you like the backdoor sports, don't ya Philly-style?"
"If you don't shut up, I'll..."
"You'll what, Phillerino?" Chris leaned against a wall, deliberately allowing some of his sweat to rub off on it. "Unlike you, I'm honest with myself. Hell, if you were a little more honest with yourself, I could see us having a decent friendship... or maybe even more than that if you played your cards right."
Was Chris playing with him? Or was this just a trick? Phil had admired Chris from a distance for many years and had gone as far as to sneak into a couple Fozzy concerts. Well, maybe not sneak in. He was sure that the college punks he'd scalped the tickets off of had better times spending his money than they would've at the show. But now...
"What are you saying, Chris?" Phil immediately changed his tone. "That you and me could... y'know... y'know?"
"Sure, I guess."
"But you got..."
"I know." Chris nodded, pausing to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead and transfer it to the back of his trunks. "But it was James Dean who once said that he wasn't going to live his life with one hand tied behind his back and I agree one hundred percent."
Phil swallowed nervously. Even though he kept his bus at a coolish temperature, he could feel a fresh sweat break out all over his skin.
"Chris, I mean I'm flattered but Kofi and me, that was..."
"If you say a mistake, then I am walking off this bus and I swear I will make your life on Smackdown a living hell." Chris sneered "So what is it?" He continued when Phil stopped in mid-word. "Go on, I'm waiting."
Ah screw it... I got my whole life to do regret...
Phil did not say another word. In two strides, he crossed the short distance between himself and Jericho and had the older man's blond locks in his hands. Judging by the surprised look on Chris' face, he was not expecting that.
If he thought that was unexpected...
Before either man could change their mind, that being more likely in Phil's case, their lips were mashed together. They kissed long, and deep, breathing through their noses only when absolutely necessary. It was one of the most passionate lip locks that Chris had experienced. Even compared to the way his lady kissed him, they was something to be said about having someone return your passion with an equal vigor.
Eventually, they both started to feel weak from lack of oxygen and simultaneously separated.
"Wow!" Phil panted
"Wow? You started it!"
Phil shrugged.
"Better than Kofi?" Chris asked
"What do you mean?" Chris mimicked the shrug.
"I mean I dunno. We never kissed. I just gave him a hand job in an alley, then spent the night in a jail cell." Phil shrugged a second time.
"And...?" Chris smirked
"And nothing. Kofi passed out from all the booze and I spent the night trying to come up with an explanation that would not get us both fired." Phil answered, wondering if they would ever stop this mindless chatter and get back to the serious matters at hand.
"Oh." Chris' smirk disappeared. "No hot and heavy?"
"No hot and heavy." Phil repeated
"Then I guess I'll have to make up for it."
Before Phil could think twice, Chris had him back in his arms, and once more their mouths attacked each other fiercely.
Phil barely realized that while Chris was dominating the kisses, he was also slowly working themselves to the back of Phil's bus... where his bed was located. He got the clue when the backs of his calves banged against the foot board and seconds later, he ended up flat on his back.
"Why, Mr. Brooks, I didn't think you were that forward." Chris joked, pouncing on top of him.
"Chris... wait a sec... I mean... whoa!" Phil was suddenly surprised by two sets of fingers working their way inside his trunks.
"Whoa! You ain't seen nothing yet!" Jericho began another intense tongue battle with Phil. One that not only made him both forget whatever he was about to say and allow Chris' hands to do what Jericho's lust-filled mind was commanding them.
It worked. Phil was so drawn in to the feeling of Chris, that he was totally surprised to feel a sudden draft on his privates.
"Chris, what are you...?" Phil reached for something to cover himself with.
"Just what you want me to do." Chris tossed the tights and underwear aside and stared. "As part of you already knows."
"But..."
"Phil, you may be one of the best promo guys in the biz, but lying on our bed, almost totally naked, with a boner? Even you can't talk your way out of what your body wants." Chris said "And I am the best in the world at what I do."
Figuring he'd said enough, Chris attacked the boner in question. Phil groaned; this is what many of his fantasies about the night with Kofi usually were about.
"Mmm... salty." Chris sucked on the tip of Phil's cock, enjoying the combination of sweat and precum.
"Oh... fuck." Phil hissed, his hands gripping the sides of the bed tightly. "Chris, God..."
"God, huh?" Chris winked "You'll be screaming more than that by the time I'm finished with you."
"Chris, please, don't keep me waiting. I'm rarely patient any other time." Phil pleaded
"If you say so." Chris knelt up and quickly tugged his own ring wear down to his knees. He was already hard and his penis pointed at Phil. "Brace yourself."
"Brace yourself? You're talking to the guy who... holy fuck!"
"Anyone ever told you that you talk too much during sex?" Chris pushed a little further into Phil.
"Chris, I... Jesus Christ on a pony..." Phil grabbed his bed in a death grip.
"Well, you do." Chris proceeded to fuck Phil through the mattress. The bed creaked noisily with each thrust, interrupted only by either a loud grunt from Chris or a shout of pleasure from Phil.
"Yes, Chris... oh God, please... fuck me harder." Phil arched his back, allowing Chris to plow deeper inside him.
Chris only grunted in reply, but increased the pace at which he was giving Phil the business.
"Not much longer," Chris gasped "you're choking my dick, bud."
"Yessss." Phil hissed through his teeth. "Make me cum, Ayatollah of fuck-my-holah."
"Won't. Be. A. Problem." Chris gritted his teeth and pushed in balls-deep. "I just hope I can last as long." He grabbed Phil and started stroking him even faster than he was currently pumping into him.
"Yeah? Cool..." Phil's eyes rolled back in his head and Chris' hand immediately felt slick. He finished Phil off with several quick strokes, then with a loud sigh, emptied himself inside his partner's willing backside.
"Wow." Chris collapsed next to Phil, absently cleaning his hand on the sheets. "That was incredible."
"I know." Phil wiped a trickled of sweat from his forehead.
They lay in silence for several minutes before either of them spoke.
"Phil, I hope you're not having any regrets about this." Chris sighed
"Regrets?" Phil turned his head. "Maybe one or two."
"Like what? I mean, this isn't gonna get back to Johnny, is it?" Chris was suddenly concerned that he may have ruined a career in ten minutes.
"Johnny? Fuck him. I just regret that we never did this a long time ago." Phil leaned over and kissed Chris on the nose.
"Really? You think maybe..."
"Maybe? No maybe about it." Phil interrupted "Once we get to Smackdown, we'll... do you smell that?"
"Smell what?" Chris asked, wrinkling his nose.
"It smells like..."
Their world went black.
TBC
Only way I could end this and still be able to look at myself in the morning.