Title: Endless Love
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.
Archiving: Ask me first.
June 7, 2004
"Stacey, please." Edge begged, reaching out a quick hand to stop her.
"Don't touch me." She demanded, squirming out of his grasp then turning cold eyes on him. "What, just because I put on the fake smile out there you have to think that all of a sudden things are OK between us?"
"No," Edge said. "That's not it at all."
She crossed her arms, leaning angrily into her hip. "Then what? What could you possibly tell me that could make this all better?"
"I'm sorry." He said, softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Stacey closed her eyes, turning her head slightly away.
He licked his lips, watching the emotions play across her lovely face. "I really am sorry. I never meant to offend you or appear bossy or controlling or anything." He chuckled, shyly, ducking his head to stare at his feet. "Ok, so maybe it was a bit over protective."
"I don't need your permission to do photo shoots or go out into the ring and show the crowd my entrance or prance up and down the ramp if I wanted to. It's my choice. I can make those decisions."
"I know." He answered. "I know that. And I'm sorry. Just ... just stop running away from me and let's ... let's just move past this."
"Hey, guys."
Stacey glanced over Edge's shoulder, spotting Chris Jericho walking towards them. She gave Edge a serious glance. "We'll finish this later." A smile spread onto her face as she let her eyes meet Chris's. "Hi. How are you?"
"I've been better." Chris answered in a dead tone. "Do you think you guys can follow me? I've got something to show you."
Edge looked worriedly at Stacey before both followed Chris down the corridor.
Trish smiled, placing the last of her belongings into her duffel bag. "I think I'm gonna tell him."
"About what?"
She turned, her eyes locking warmly on the youngest Hardy. "Chris. I think I'm gonna tell him everything. Everything that's been going on with Bischoff and what Christian and I are doing. Just everything."
Jeff crossed the room, wrapping his arms around the tiny diva in a comforting hug. "That's great, Sweetie. I think you should. And don't worry. Chris will understand." He eased her back, cocking his head as he looked seriously in her eyes. "Are you going to tell him ... everything?"
Trish shook her head, nerves rising clearly on her face. His question caught her off guard. "Of course not. I ... I can't tell him that. I can't tell him any of it. It ... it doesn't matter anyway. That was the past and ... and I'm better off forgetting it."
Jeff sighed. "I know it's the past. And he can't be angry with you. It wasn't your fault. But he does deserve to know eventually. That way he at least understands. You want him to understand, don't you?"
She gnawed on her lower lip, turning from his gaze to fiddle with her bag, acting as if she were doing something. "I don't want him to know that, Jeff. It ... it's not a comfortable subject ... for me."
"I know." Jeff said, softly, his voice a southern sooth. "But I'm sure he'd like to know."
"I was stupid for telling you."
"Now, now." He pacified quickly, stepping behind her and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Have I judged you once because of it?"
"No."
"And do I treat you any differently?"
"No."
"And do I ever bring it up or press you about it?"
"Well you are now."
Jeff smiled. "Doesn't count this time, Sweetheart."
Trish smiled, a little chuckled escaping her lips as she bowed her head. "Then no."
"See?" His inflection, gentle and he turned her to look in her eyes. "Just promise me you'll think about it."
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she nodded. "I promise that I'll think about it."
"Good," Jeff said with a bright grin then grabbed her hand. "Now, come on. Let's go find Chris right now so you can tell him."
"Sounds good." Trish answered, following him out the door.
Jeff paused once stepping inside Chris's locker room, Trish bumping into him from behind. He eyed the curious composure of all present, especially a strangely weak looking Chris Jericho. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"
Chris focused his eyes on Jeff, never once looking at Trish. "Could you two sit here, next to Edge and Stacey. There's something important I have to show you all."
Jeff grabbed Trish's hand, leading her across the way. Trish looked curiously at Chris and a sinking feeling pulled at her stomach when he avoided her gaze and turned towards the television set. Jeff sat Trish next to Stacey then squeezed in, watching the screen.
Chris inserted the tape then pressed a series of buttons before moving out of the way.
The tape crackled, a snowy screen of black and white flickered a few times before the picture cleared and Eric Bischoff appeared.
("Hi," Eric said then raised his hand. "Now now, don't be too hasty to turn this off.)
Trish shifted her weight, her eyes darting to Chris. Jericho leaned against the door, his head ducked and arms crossed over his chest. Nervous, Trish returned her eyes to the screen.
("I know what you are thinking, Chris." Eric said in his usual sly voice. "What is that slimy bastard up to now. Well, I assure you to only give me ... oh ... five to ten minutes of your time. That's all I need."
Eric smiled his patented winning smile then leaned back casually on his desk. "I know that you and I aren't on the best of terms and despite that, let me just tell you how much I admire you, Chris. No, really." He placed a hand on his chest. "I do. It takes a lot of guts to do what you did to me, and I admire that. I don't like it. But I admire it."
Eric paused a strategic moment before continuing. "And that is why I want to show you something. I want to show you the wise choice you made staying away from Trish Stratus.")
Trish felt her world collapse. Her throat clogged, she couldn't breathe. Her eyes glanced at Chris. He hadn't moved. This couldn't be happening.
("And that is why I wanted to ... put your heart to ease." Eric soothed. "I have to show you a collection of ... extravaganzas that your one time beloved has engaged in. Let me just ... find them here ...")
The screen faded out then back in. Eric continued to narrate in the background, explaining exactly what was happening in the picture.
("Let's see ... ah, first and foremost we have this. The year, 2000. The place, Vince McMahon's office." The film was a scattered security tape. "And here we see Trish with Vince McMahon. Ooooo, does she kiss her mother with that mouth? Hope you didn't kiss her too much there, Chris? You could catch something.")
Trish felt tears well up in her eyes. "No," she breathed. "Not this way." She shuddered when Jeff grabbed her hand, squeezing comfortingly.
("And if you watch carefully ... yes, there it is. Shane entering from behind. If you catch my drift." Eric cleared his throat. "Moving on. We have a parking garage. And what do we see but none other then our lovely Trish with ... hmm, who is that?")
"Oh God," Trish choked out, ducking her head.
(Eric laughed. "I see who it is. Albert. Next video ... Test.)
With each name, a new video came on, showing the naughtiest of naughties. No shame, no decency. Acts of such animistic fervor that no man could watch without blushing.
(Eric's songy voice continued to name the partner through each intimate video. "What's this? Oh what is this juicy tidbit here? I see Trish and two men. Never knew Hunter and Shawn Michaels were into that. Well, they seem to be very into Trish at this moment." He laughed at his own joke.
"Ah, sometimes I just kill myself." He said. "Hmm, they're just as active with each other as they are her. Who's next ... Val Venis ... Rob Van Dam ... that looks like Charlie Haas to me. Guess she gets busy at the pay per views too. John Cena, and here's about 6 random men ... hmm ... ah, here's Christian from about 2001. Man, he's really giving it to her. Oh, there's so many. Let's skip ahead a bit. What else do we have here? Ah, here's something juicy."
Eric chuckled. "Ah, it's Stephanie. Hmmm, March 2002. And who she with. Oh, that's Christian. Guess she didn't leave you for Angle like you thought, huh. Sorry about that Chris. It was a slip up. That wasn't supposed to be in there. Now, where were we?"
The picture flickered a moment and finally an elevator cab appeared. One could hear the smile in Eric's voice. "Trish, the little darling couldn't even keep her legs closed in the elevator. Oh, but look who it is. Never knew Jeff Hardy had it in him.)
Jeff ducked his head, holding Trish's hand even tighter.
("There's so much more to show you, Chris. But I think you catch my drift. Needless to say, she wasn't too discreet with her meetings and there's so much more I haven't put on here. That's not to even say the porn videos I've found. It's a good thing you haven't screwed her yet, huh Chris. I mean nothing could be worse then being her 63rd lover. And that's only the ones that have been recorded.")
The tape flickered then faded into a sea of snow. No one responded in the room. There was deafening silence.
Seconds. Minutes past and still nothing was said. Stacey leaned further against Edge, the man in his own state of mental shock. Jeff licked his lips, pushing to his feet and facing Chris. "Look, Chris. I ..."
"What didn't you tell me?" Jericho's dead voice rang coldly through the room. "Why didn't you tell me, Jeff, that you did that? Why didn't you tell me you were fucking her?"
Jeff glanced warily at his feet, his words stumbling over the last. "I ... I didn't think to ... I don't know. I mean ..."
"Why didn't you TELL ME!" Chris slammed his clenched fist against the door, causing a loud boom to erupt.
Jeff clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he showed no hint of intimidation. "The whole company knew that Trish and I were seeing each other back in 2003. What, does it surprise you that we would have sex if we were seeing each other?"
"In an elevator?" Chris growled. "What you couldn't wait to get back to the room? And no, I didn't know about you two being together. Not the whole company knew and it wouldn't make a fucking difference."
Jeff smiled, sadistically. "What, you've never fucked a woman in the elevator before? Come on, it's an all time turn on for most people. The risk of getting caught at any moment. Oh, I'm sorry. You must not be man enough to make a girl cum in that amount of time. Come up ... short ... in that department, Chris?"
Chris's eyes blazed as he charged the other man. "Why, you little shit."
Jeff laughed, easily ducking out of the way and Jericho stumbled to regain his balance. "Sensitive issue for you, huh Jericho."
"Hey, hey." Edge jumped up, his arms wrapping around Jericho's waist and holding the man back. "Easy. Easy, relax."
Jericho pulled himself from Edge's grasp and turned his vicious cold eyes on Trish. The small woman shuddered under his gaze. "Filth." He snarled.
Trish cringed, her shoulders slumping as she stepped back from him. Her head to the ground. "Chris, I ..."
"Don't speak to me." He commanded in a loud voice, his hand slicing at the air as he turned his back on her. "I never want to hear anything come out of that mouth of yours again. Ever. Do you understand me!"
Trish could only give a shaky nod, her shoulders violently convulsing in her attempt to refrain her tears. How could this happen? Just when she let herself open to him, when she finally trusted him again and like before, he turned on her like a rabid dog.
Chris viciously shook his head, glaring at her. "I can't believe you. How many men did you fuck from October to now, huh? How many? How many were you screwing behind my back? You did fuck Christian and Tomko, didn't you? And you lied to me to get me to be your 63rd conquest. Well, how does if feel Trish? How does it feel to add me to the list?"
Trish closed her eyes, every word he uttered destroying her.
"Chris, shut up!" Edge snarled.
But Jericho didn't listen. "Slut," he growled, his eyes blazing with infuriated anger, his stare accusatory as he snorted in disgust. "I can't believe I ever wasted a moment on you. Fool that I am for believing you a second time. For holding onto hope. Hah! Hope for what. I wonder what I caught from you. Any clues? Any symptoms I need to be looking out for?"
Trish swallowed hard, her tear-glassed eyes meeting his. "Chris, I'm sorry."
Anger fueling his system, he recoiled, backhanding her across the face. "Did I tell you to speak, Whore? Speak when you're spoken to. You should be used to an order like that."
Trish stumbled back, a hand coming up to cup her struck cheek as her eyes flared with fear. He hit her. He ... he struck her. Shuddering, tears, ran down her cheeks.
"You son of a bitch." Jeff snarled, pure rage surging through his system as he dove at Jericho, tackling the man to the ground.
Trish ran from the room, charging down the hall and not waiting for anyone to follow her. She didn't want them to. Racing, the tears clouding her vision, she burst into her locker room then collapsed to her knees.
A pair of large arms wrapped securely around her, helping her stand. She gave no effort and stayed limp, but he was persistent and lifted her to her feet. Turning her preciously in his arms, Tyson held her against his chest with one arm, his other hand reaching up to brush the tears from her eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his voice laden with intensity.
Trish viciously shook her head, hiding her face and burying into his chest, hugging him tightly.
Tyson rocked her gently, his hands caressing her back as he tried to sooth her tears. After a few minutes, he eased her back, cupping her chin in his hands. Her eyes held a far away look, hardened and cold. But his eyes blazed at the strange mark on her cheek. "Who?" he growled, his body shaking with the restrained anger.
Trish swallowed hard, her lower lip trembling as she held the tears back. She licked her lips, reaching up to stroke her fingers over his cheek. "On Sunday ..." she said softly, seductively. Her eyes narrowed intensely with her next words. "Hurt ... him."
Trish glanced either way down the corridor of her hotel. At the far end, she spotted an open door and a scantily clad woman standing outside. Walking briskly, she approached the woman, a serious focused look in her eye. "Leave." She demanded.
The other woman casually turned her gaze. "Excuse me? But I just got here."
"And you'll be leaving." Trish said, a threat to her tone.
The other woman laughed. "I'm sorry, missy ... but I was sent here by the gentlemen down the hall. And they stated specifically that ..."
Trish waved a one hundred dollar bill in front of the woman. "Sorry for your trouble. Now go find some other work."
The other woman smiled, taking the bill between her fingers then flashed a quirky smirk into the room. "Sorry, Sweetcheeks. I'll be seeing you."
Trish watched with stone eyes as the woman walked away then turned her attention to the man beside her.
Randy Orton smiled, devilishly, impishly as he crossed cocky arms over his chest. "Well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Stratus. Now what could she possibly want from company such as mine."
Trish said no words but lifted a dainty hand and shoved him into the room.
Randy chuckled, walking to the bed.
She closed the door, her eyes quickly taking in the room.
His belongings were casually strewn about the floor, the spare bed covered with clothes that appeared much to large for him. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting soccer shorts that hung low on the hip. He stretched his back then turned to her, that sexy quirk still on his lips. "How can I help you?"
Trish walked steadily towards him. "Where's Dave?"
Randy's cocked his head. "He's gone for the night. Won't be back until the morning. Why?"
Her hand reached out again as she shoved him hard.
Randy grunted at the impact, caught off guard by her aggression when she pushed him. He landed on his back on the bed. The smile never left his lips. "Well, now it seems that ..."
Trish straddled him quickly, crushing her mouth to his in a forcefully violent kiss.
He choked on his words, not responding at first out of sheer shock. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, taking complete advantage and simply doing as she pleased, her hands running roughly over his chest, sides and arms. Moving her head slightly, she forced his mouth open even wider, as wide as she could.
Their teeth clicked harshly together and Randy didn't think he'd ever been kissed this deeply in his life. He was nearly choking on her tongue and still he was too shocked to react. But he certainly didn't want her to stop.
Trish thrust her hips hard onto his, forcing an animalistic growl to rumble deep in his throat. She tangled and wrapped her tongue around his, pressing her mouth even harder against his already sore mouth. Coiling their tongues, she drew his slicked muscle into her mouth, forcing the widest of kisses as she suckled strongly.
Randy's lust filled groan echoed through the room as he band his arms tightly around her back, slipping quickly under her shirt to feel skin. He wasted no time in unfastening her bra and tossing it aside bfore rolling them over. Pinning her with his full body weight, Trish raked her hands through his short wet hair, clinging fiercely to the back of his head. He was just as eager to touch her and trailed his hands to the front of her chest, massaging and caressing her with aggressive need.
But instead of recoiling like he expected, she moaned into his mouth, scratching her hands down his back to grab his ass. Spreading her legs, she pulled him harshly into her, grinding his already excited reaction.
Randy pulled back then, staring down at her with a darkened crazed lust. His body pulsating for her, he licked his bruised swollen lips. "Change of heart, I see." His lust laced voice gruffly stated.
Arching into him, her hips rocking into his, she let out a sexy groan. "Fuck me."
But Randy teasingly cocked his head. "What, your little boys can't help you here?"
"I need a real man." She responded, deeply, continuously rocking against him.
Randy's eyes fluttered as an involuntary groan slipped from his lips and she slipped her hands under his shorts, grabbing flesh and pulling him harder against her.
Trish smiled, peeking her tongue out to lick his lips. "Are you man enough, to handle me?"
Tearing the shirt viciously from her body, Randy crashed their mouths together, completely dominating the submissive woman, proving his worth.
(Read, review ... trust me things are going to get real juicy. This is still a chris/trish fic for all you people out there. And remember, this is me writing. So things aren't always what they seem.)
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.
Archiving: Ask me first.
June 7, 2004
"Stacey, please." Edge begged, reaching out a quick hand to stop her.
"Don't touch me." She demanded, squirming out of his grasp then turning cold eyes on him. "What, just because I put on the fake smile out there you have to think that all of a sudden things are OK between us?"
"No," Edge said. "That's not it at all."
She crossed her arms, leaning angrily into her hip. "Then what? What could you possibly tell me that could make this all better?"
"I'm sorry." He said, softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Stacey closed her eyes, turning her head slightly away.
He licked his lips, watching the emotions play across her lovely face. "I really am sorry. I never meant to offend you or appear bossy or controlling or anything." He chuckled, shyly, ducking his head to stare at his feet. "Ok, so maybe it was a bit over protective."
"I don't need your permission to do photo shoots or go out into the ring and show the crowd my entrance or prance up and down the ramp if I wanted to. It's my choice. I can make those decisions."
"I know." He answered. "I know that. And I'm sorry. Just ... just stop running away from me and let's ... let's just move past this."
"Hey, guys."
Stacey glanced over Edge's shoulder, spotting Chris Jericho walking towards them. She gave Edge a serious glance. "We'll finish this later." A smile spread onto her face as she let her eyes meet Chris's. "Hi. How are you?"
"I've been better." Chris answered in a dead tone. "Do you think you guys can follow me? I've got something to show you."
Edge looked worriedly at Stacey before both followed Chris down the corridor.
Trish smiled, placing the last of her belongings into her duffel bag. "I think I'm gonna tell him."
"About what?"
She turned, her eyes locking warmly on the youngest Hardy. "Chris. I think I'm gonna tell him everything. Everything that's been going on with Bischoff and what Christian and I are doing. Just everything."
Jeff crossed the room, wrapping his arms around the tiny diva in a comforting hug. "That's great, Sweetie. I think you should. And don't worry. Chris will understand." He eased her back, cocking his head as he looked seriously in her eyes. "Are you going to tell him ... everything?"
Trish shook her head, nerves rising clearly on her face. His question caught her off guard. "Of course not. I ... I can't tell him that. I can't tell him any of it. It ... it doesn't matter anyway. That was the past and ... and I'm better off forgetting it."
Jeff sighed. "I know it's the past. And he can't be angry with you. It wasn't your fault. But he does deserve to know eventually. That way he at least understands. You want him to understand, don't you?"
She gnawed on her lower lip, turning from his gaze to fiddle with her bag, acting as if she were doing something. "I don't want him to know that, Jeff. It ... it's not a comfortable subject ... for me."
"I know." Jeff said, softly, his voice a southern sooth. "But I'm sure he'd like to know."
"I was stupid for telling you."
"Now, now." He pacified quickly, stepping behind her and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Have I judged you once because of it?"
"No."
"And do I treat you any differently?"
"No."
"And do I ever bring it up or press you about it?"
"Well you are now."
Jeff smiled. "Doesn't count this time, Sweetheart."
Trish smiled, a little chuckled escaping her lips as she bowed her head. "Then no."
"See?" His inflection, gentle and he turned her to look in her eyes. "Just promise me you'll think about it."
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she nodded. "I promise that I'll think about it."
"Good," Jeff said with a bright grin then grabbed her hand. "Now, come on. Let's go find Chris right now so you can tell him."
"Sounds good." Trish answered, following him out the door.
Jeff paused once stepping inside Chris's locker room, Trish bumping into him from behind. He eyed the curious composure of all present, especially a strangely weak looking Chris Jericho. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"
Chris focused his eyes on Jeff, never once looking at Trish. "Could you two sit here, next to Edge and Stacey. There's something important I have to show you all."
Jeff grabbed Trish's hand, leading her across the way. Trish looked curiously at Chris and a sinking feeling pulled at her stomach when he avoided her gaze and turned towards the television set. Jeff sat Trish next to Stacey then squeezed in, watching the screen.
Chris inserted the tape then pressed a series of buttons before moving out of the way.
The tape crackled, a snowy screen of black and white flickered a few times before the picture cleared and Eric Bischoff appeared.
("Hi," Eric said then raised his hand. "Now now, don't be too hasty to turn this off.)
Trish shifted her weight, her eyes darting to Chris. Jericho leaned against the door, his head ducked and arms crossed over his chest. Nervous, Trish returned her eyes to the screen.
("I know what you are thinking, Chris." Eric said in his usual sly voice. "What is that slimy bastard up to now. Well, I assure you to only give me ... oh ... five to ten minutes of your time. That's all I need."
Eric smiled his patented winning smile then leaned back casually on his desk. "I know that you and I aren't on the best of terms and despite that, let me just tell you how much I admire you, Chris. No, really." He placed a hand on his chest. "I do. It takes a lot of guts to do what you did to me, and I admire that. I don't like it. But I admire it."
Eric paused a strategic moment before continuing. "And that is why I want to show you something. I want to show you the wise choice you made staying away from Trish Stratus.")
Trish felt her world collapse. Her throat clogged, she couldn't breathe. Her eyes glanced at Chris. He hadn't moved. This couldn't be happening.
("And that is why I wanted to ... put your heart to ease." Eric soothed. "I have to show you a collection of ... extravaganzas that your one time beloved has engaged in. Let me just ... find them here ...")
The screen faded out then back in. Eric continued to narrate in the background, explaining exactly what was happening in the picture.
("Let's see ... ah, first and foremost we have this. The year, 2000. The place, Vince McMahon's office." The film was a scattered security tape. "And here we see Trish with Vince McMahon. Ooooo, does she kiss her mother with that mouth? Hope you didn't kiss her too much there, Chris? You could catch something.")
Trish felt tears well up in her eyes. "No," she breathed. "Not this way." She shuddered when Jeff grabbed her hand, squeezing comfortingly.
("And if you watch carefully ... yes, there it is. Shane entering from behind. If you catch my drift." Eric cleared his throat. "Moving on. We have a parking garage. And what do we see but none other then our lovely Trish with ... hmm, who is that?")
"Oh God," Trish choked out, ducking her head.
(Eric laughed. "I see who it is. Albert. Next video ... Test.)
With each name, a new video came on, showing the naughtiest of naughties. No shame, no decency. Acts of such animistic fervor that no man could watch without blushing.
(Eric's songy voice continued to name the partner through each intimate video. "What's this? Oh what is this juicy tidbit here? I see Trish and two men. Never knew Hunter and Shawn Michaels were into that. Well, they seem to be very into Trish at this moment." He laughed at his own joke.
"Ah, sometimes I just kill myself." He said. "Hmm, they're just as active with each other as they are her. Who's next ... Val Venis ... Rob Van Dam ... that looks like Charlie Haas to me. Guess she gets busy at the pay per views too. John Cena, and here's about 6 random men ... hmm ... ah, here's Christian from about 2001. Man, he's really giving it to her. Oh, there's so many. Let's skip ahead a bit. What else do we have here? Ah, here's something juicy."
Eric chuckled. "Ah, it's Stephanie. Hmmm, March 2002. And who she with. Oh, that's Christian. Guess she didn't leave you for Angle like you thought, huh. Sorry about that Chris. It was a slip up. That wasn't supposed to be in there. Now, where were we?"
The picture flickered a moment and finally an elevator cab appeared. One could hear the smile in Eric's voice. "Trish, the little darling couldn't even keep her legs closed in the elevator. Oh, but look who it is. Never knew Jeff Hardy had it in him.)
Jeff ducked his head, holding Trish's hand even tighter.
("There's so much more to show you, Chris. But I think you catch my drift. Needless to say, she wasn't too discreet with her meetings and there's so much more I haven't put on here. That's not to even say the porn videos I've found. It's a good thing you haven't screwed her yet, huh Chris. I mean nothing could be worse then being her 63rd lover. And that's only the ones that have been recorded.")
The tape flickered then faded into a sea of snow. No one responded in the room. There was deafening silence.
Seconds. Minutes past and still nothing was said. Stacey leaned further against Edge, the man in his own state of mental shock. Jeff licked his lips, pushing to his feet and facing Chris. "Look, Chris. I ..."
"What didn't you tell me?" Jericho's dead voice rang coldly through the room. "Why didn't you tell me, Jeff, that you did that? Why didn't you tell me you were fucking her?"
Jeff glanced warily at his feet, his words stumbling over the last. "I ... I didn't think to ... I don't know. I mean ..."
"Why didn't you TELL ME!" Chris slammed his clenched fist against the door, causing a loud boom to erupt.
Jeff clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he showed no hint of intimidation. "The whole company knew that Trish and I were seeing each other back in 2003. What, does it surprise you that we would have sex if we were seeing each other?"
"In an elevator?" Chris growled. "What you couldn't wait to get back to the room? And no, I didn't know about you two being together. Not the whole company knew and it wouldn't make a fucking difference."
Jeff smiled, sadistically. "What, you've never fucked a woman in the elevator before? Come on, it's an all time turn on for most people. The risk of getting caught at any moment. Oh, I'm sorry. You must not be man enough to make a girl cum in that amount of time. Come up ... short ... in that department, Chris?"
Chris's eyes blazed as he charged the other man. "Why, you little shit."
Jeff laughed, easily ducking out of the way and Jericho stumbled to regain his balance. "Sensitive issue for you, huh Jericho."
"Hey, hey." Edge jumped up, his arms wrapping around Jericho's waist and holding the man back. "Easy. Easy, relax."
Jericho pulled himself from Edge's grasp and turned his vicious cold eyes on Trish. The small woman shuddered under his gaze. "Filth." He snarled.
Trish cringed, her shoulders slumping as she stepped back from him. Her head to the ground. "Chris, I ..."
"Don't speak to me." He commanded in a loud voice, his hand slicing at the air as he turned his back on her. "I never want to hear anything come out of that mouth of yours again. Ever. Do you understand me!"
Trish could only give a shaky nod, her shoulders violently convulsing in her attempt to refrain her tears. How could this happen? Just when she let herself open to him, when she finally trusted him again and like before, he turned on her like a rabid dog.
Chris viciously shook his head, glaring at her. "I can't believe you. How many men did you fuck from October to now, huh? How many? How many were you screwing behind my back? You did fuck Christian and Tomko, didn't you? And you lied to me to get me to be your 63rd conquest. Well, how does if feel Trish? How does it feel to add me to the list?"
Trish closed her eyes, every word he uttered destroying her.
"Chris, shut up!" Edge snarled.
But Jericho didn't listen. "Slut," he growled, his eyes blazing with infuriated anger, his stare accusatory as he snorted in disgust. "I can't believe I ever wasted a moment on you. Fool that I am for believing you a second time. For holding onto hope. Hah! Hope for what. I wonder what I caught from you. Any clues? Any symptoms I need to be looking out for?"
Trish swallowed hard, her tear-glassed eyes meeting his. "Chris, I'm sorry."
Anger fueling his system, he recoiled, backhanding her across the face. "Did I tell you to speak, Whore? Speak when you're spoken to. You should be used to an order like that."
Trish stumbled back, a hand coming up to cup her struck cheek as her eyes flared with fear. He hit her. He ... he struck her. Shuddering, tears, ran down her cheeks.
"You son of a bitch." Jeff snarled, pure rage surging through his system as he dove at Jericho, tackling the man to the ground.
Trish ran from the room, charging down the hall and not waiting for anyone to follow her. She didn't want them to. Racing, the tears clouding her vision, she burst into her locker room then collapsed to her knees.
A pair of large arms wrapped securely around her, helping her stand. She gave no effort and stayed limp, but he was persistent and lifted her to her feet. Turning her preciously in his arms, Tyson held her against his chest with one arm, his other hand reaching up to brush the tears from her eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his voice laden with intensity.
Trish viciously shook her head, hiding her face and burying into his chest, hugging him tightly.
Tyson rocked her gently, his hands caressing her back as he tried to sooth her tears. After a few minutes, he eased her back, cupping her chin in his hands. Her eyes held a far away look, hardened and cold. But his eyes blazed at the strange mark on her cheek. "Who?" he growled, his body shaking with the restrained anger.
Trish swallowed hard, her lower lip trembling as she held the tears back. She licked her lips, reaching up to stroke her fingers over his cheek. "On Sunday ..." she said softly, seductively. Her eyes narrowed intensely with her next words. "Hurt ... him."
Trish glanced either way down the corridor of her hotel. At the far end, she spotted an open door and a scantily clad woman standing outside. Walking briskly, she approached the woman, a serious focused look in her eye. "Leave." She demanded.
The other woman casually turned her gaze. "Excuse me? But I just got here."
"And you'll be leaving." Trish said, a threat to her tone.
The other woman laughed. "I'm sorry, missy ... but I was sent here by the gentlemen down the hall. And they stated specifically that ..."
Trish waved a one hundred dollar bill in front of the woman. "Sorry for your trouble. Now go find some other work."
The other woman smiled, taking the bill between her fingers then flashed a quirky smirk into the room. "Sorry, Sweetcheeks. I'll be seeing you."
Trish watched with stone eyes as the woman walked away then turned her attention to the man beside her.
Randy Orton smiled, devilishly, impishly as he crossed cocky arms over his chest. "Well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Stratus. Now what could she possibly want from company such as mine."
Trish said no words but lifted a dainty hand and shoved him into the room.
Randy chuckled, walking to the bed.
She closed the door, her eyes quickly taking in the room.
His belongings were casually strewn about the floor, the spare bed covered with clothes that appeared much to large for him. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting soccer shorts that hung low on the hip. He stretched his back then turned to her, that sexy quirk still on his lips. "How can I help you?"
Trish walked steadily towards him. "Where's Dave?"
Randy's cocked his head. "He's gone for the night. Won't be back until the morning. Why?"
Her hand reached out again as she shoved him hard.
Randy grunted at the impact, caught off guard by her aggression when she pushed him. He landed on his back on the bed. The smile never left his lips. "Well, now it seems that ..."
Trish straddled him quickly, crushing her mouth to his in a forcefully violent kiss.
He choked on his words, not responding at first out of sheer shock. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, taking complete advantage and simply doing as she pleased, her hands running roughly over his chest, sides and arms. Moving her head slightly, she forced his mouth open even wider, as wide as she could.
Their teeth clicked harshly together and Randy didn't think he'd ever been kissed this deeply in his life. He was nearly choking on her tongue and still he was too shocked to react. But he certainly didn't want her to stop.
Trish thrust her hips hard onto his, forcing an animalistic growl to rumble deep in his throat. She tangled and wrapped her tongue around his, pressing her mouth even harder against his already sore mouth. Coiling their tongues, she drew his slicked muscle into her mouth, forcing the widest of kisses as she suckled strongly.
Randy's lust filled groan echoed through the room as he band his arms tightly around her back, slipping quickly under her shirt to feel skin. He wasted no time in unfastening her bra and tossing it aside bfore rolling them over. Pinning her with his full body weight, Trish raked her hands through his short wet hair, clinging fiercely to the back of his head. He was just as eager to touch her and trailed his hands to the front of her chest, massaging and caressing her with aggressive need.
But instead of recoiling like he expected, she moaned into his mouth, scratching her hands down his back to grab his ass. Spreading her legs, she pulled him harshly into her, grinding his already excited reaction.
Randy pulled back then, staring down at her with a darkened crazed lust. His body pulsating for her, he licked his bruised swollen lips. "Change of heart, I see." His lust laced voice gruffly stated.
Arching into him, her hips rocking into his, she let out a sexy groan. "Fuck me."
But Randy teasingly cocked his head. "What, your little boys can't help you here?"
"I need a real man." She responded, deeply, continuously rocking against him.
Randy's eyes fluttered as an involuntary groan slipped from his lips and she slipped her hands under his shorts, grabbing flesh and pulling him harder against her.
Trish smiled, peeking her tongue out to lick his lips. "Are you man enough, to handle me?"
Tearing the shirt viciously from her body, Randy crashed their mouths together, completely dominating the submissive woman, proving his worth.
(Read, review ... trust me things are going to get real juicy. This is still a chris/trish fic for all you people out there. And remember, this is me writing. So things aren't always what they seem.)