Chris had thought this out for a while. In fact, he was still sitting on the lid of the toilet, naked, looking at the small pile of things that rested in a neat pile on the tile between his splayed feet. Matt's way of trying to get at him was being more subtle, with little teases here and there, for the most part. Chris on the other hand, realized that his attempts to get Matt to give in to him seemed more desperate. He wondered if maybe the things he was doing was damning him more than helping him, because Matt wasn't stupid, he'd catch on how much Chris wanted him to give in—that now it was less about who won the stupid bet—and just that Chris ached for those intimate moments with his lover.

He hadn't spent so much time becoming acquainted with his own hand since he was thirteen years old, and even a bout of jerking didn't feel as good as it once had. The hands weren't Matt's, and though he could imagine them pretty vividly—along with other parts of his lovers anatomy pleasuring him—it just wasn't the same thing. You are getting desperate. He thought to himself as he hooked his finger through a metal ring, and picked up one of the items on the floor. He scowled at it, and at the thought that maybe Matt was right, maybe he was the weaker one. Or maybe Matt is just better at hiding it than you are. Matt doesn't whimper and whine and pout the way you do.

Maybe. Maybe could be a lot of things, but it didn't matter, because tonight was the night. Tonight was the fall of Matt Hardy. The thought of Matt melting, giving in, and the two of them spending hours tangled in the hot sweaty sheets licking, touching, pounding, grinding, was enough to make Chris's cock twitch and stir. With a grin on his face he started to get dressed. He was almost finished, when there was a knock at the door, and a muffled chuckle.

"What are you doing in the bathroom so long Chris?"

The question had a sing-song quality to the familiar Southern lilt, and Chris knew that Matt was being an ass, insinuating that Chris was holed up in the bathroom having one-on-one sexual relations.

"Aw, wouldn't you like to know Matty?" Chris practically sang back to him. There wasn't any response.

Chris picked up the pair of pants on the floor and wiggled into them. Once he zipped them they seemed tighter than last time he'd worn them. With a small frown he studied his figure in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, turning every way and coming to the conclusion that he looked as sexy as ever. He wagged his ass at the mirror, and glanced over his shoulder. Maybe that part of his physique was getting a little rounder, but that was all the better. After all, his caboose was Matt's favorite part of him. He grabbed the shirt, slipped it over his head, and swaggered out of the bathroom, glancing around for Matt.

He found him in the kitchen, stirring some red sauce that smelled of Italian herbs, and likely was spaghetti sauce. Chris creeped up behind his husband and wrapped his arms around his waist. Matt said nothing, just intentionally stirred the sauce harder, twisting his hips a little with the movement so his rear was moving against the crotch that was pressed to it. Chris growled against his ear, the sound making him shiver.

"Doesn't slaving over the stove make you hot?" Chris purred, running his hands up and down Matt's sides and hips.

"Not really." Matt said flatly, as he tried to ignore the bump forming against his ass. "Move, Chris." Matt grumbled, annoyed that the blond only pressed harder against him, one of the stove knobs digging into his thigh.

Matt whirled around with the wooden spoon in his hand. He placed his palm on Chris's chest and moved him a step back.

"I said move." Matt repeated sternly, as his lips twitched.

He glanced down at what Chris was wearing. His wrists were banded with wide leather bondages cuffs, which matched the collar around his throat. He had on a tight fitting t-shirt the sleeves stretched around his muscled arms, the body clinging to the curves of his chest and sides. One edge of the hem had rode up a little, showing off the winking silver stars on the studded black belt, but best of all were the pants. Matt had gushed over the leather pants so much, they were his favorite, and Chris knew it. They showed his hot body perfectly, the strong curves of his thighs, the slight dip of his hips, the proud bulge of his package, and that amazing backside. Matt flicked his eyes up to Chris's, the dazzling blue dark with lust and mischief.

"Wanna taste my sauce?" Matt asked, in his lowest, most sultry tone of voice.

"Ooh, yeah I wanna taste it."

Matt moved the wooden spoon towards Chris's lips and the blond parted them sluttishly. He sucked on the spoon as though some other, more desired wood was being worked in his skilled mouth. Matt shifted as Chris pressed close to him, not wanting the Canadian to feel the beginnings of his arousal.

"More?" Matt quirked an eyebrow.

"I can always take more…" Chris nipped at Matt's lips, and winked.

Matt refilled the spoon with the bubbling spaghetti sauce and moved it towards Chris's mouth again. At the last moment, he tilted it to the side, dumping the topping. A red trail quickly dripped down Chris's shirt and over the stretched fly of his pants.

"Oops!" Matt feigned innocence, his eyes wide, and he pressed his fingers to his lips. "Let me clean you up."

Before Chris could react or say anything, Matt snaked down his body and slid to his knees, his mouth level with the sauce-dribble. He gripped Chris's hips and pressed the tip of his tongue to the straining leather and dragged it over the stain.

"Mmmm…" Matt murmured against the fleshy part of Chris that he could feel twitching beneath the black fabric.

Chris gasped, the feel of Matt's tongue pressing the leather closer to his growing member was faintly felt—but it was amazing. As if Matt could read his thoughts, he pressed the slippery muscle in his mouth harder against the outline of Chris's head. The blond's fingers bit into Matt's shoulders, and he barely swallowed the moan that wanted to escape his lips. This is all wrong, I'm supposed to be seducing Matt…I—oh—ooh god! Matt dragged his teeth over the twitching outline. The inside of Chris's pants were quickly becoming humid and hot, the sweat making them sticky and clinging to him. He fidgeted as Matt teased the sensitive end of his erection with the pad of his thumb, rubbing with just enough pressure to drive Chris crazy. It was working like a charm. Chris's hands were painfully gripped to his shoulders he was fidgeting from foot to foot, his eyes tightly closed, his hips rocking to rub himself against Matt's teasing digit. He was choking on moans and mewls. The complete neediness of Chris's whines went straight to Matt's cock, even though he was trying hard to build up a mental wall as defense.

"Matt, ooh—Matty baby, m-more!" Chris gasped.

Ticklish sweat trailed down his neck and back, pasting the t-shirt to his body. He couldn't tell if his pants were wet from the humid conditions in the leather, or if he was leaking. Get control Chris! His mind shouted, but his body was reminding him how good the simple touches felt. After a couple more mental arguments with himself, he was able to take a couple wobbly steps back from his kneeling husband. He threaded a hand in his short, wet spiky hair and panted, trying to get a handle on the situation. Matt stayed on his knees, his own excitement now too much to bother trying to hide as it pulled at the crotch of his jeans. He looked up at Chris, intent on putting the most innocent look on his face possible. It wasn't an easy task, because he really wanted to take Chris and please him as he writhed, as their bodies slid together, their voices lost together in sounds that didn't need words to have meaning.

Matt shook his head, trying to fling out the thought. When he looked back up, Chris was peeling his shirt off—in a very seductive, slow-mo, manner. Matt's mouth was hung open, as Chris's torso was revealed to him. The tanned skin was slicked and shimmering. Chris's chest was rising and falling against a leather 'x' that crossed over his shoulders and under the rounded orbs of his pecs. The straps came to meet in the middle of his chest at a silver ring. A silver chain was linked to the larg 'O' ring and it ran down the center of Chris's belly and disappeared into his impossibly tight pants. Matt swallowed hard, faintly realizing that if he didn't snap his mouth closed, he was literally about to drool over himself. Chris hooked his thumb under the silver chain and tugged it slightly, making the tent in his pants move a bit against the leather interior.

"You wanna play?" Now it was Chris who was using his best bedroom voice, low and rough and perfectly taunting.

Matt had nothing to say. Suddenly, the tables were turned once again.

"Just tell me you want me, Matty. Give in and you can have me."

Chris tugged again at the chain that dipped beneath his waist band, and he jangled one of his wrists, drawing attention to the ring on the cuff and the possibilities it could grant. Matt struggled to make his mouth, his brain, anything work properly. Chris just kept toying with that damn chain. Matt closed his eyes tight, and counted, until he was able to get a bit of a hold on himself. When he opened his eyes, he felt a bit more in control. He also had a plan of attack.

"You don't think I can have you without your permission?" Matt snorted.

Matt got to his feet and moved towards Chris. That reaction was obviously not what the blond expected, and his eyes flashed in a moment of confusion. Before Chris could stop him, Matt had grabbed the chain in his fist and pulled Chris towards him. I'm winning! Chris thought as Matt's dark chocolate eyes glowed fire at him.

"I can take what I want, when I want it." Matt growled, spun Chris around, and pinned him against the counter.

Matt let go of the chain, and gripped Chris's wrists. He wrenched them behind Chris's back and latched them onto the rings on the strap of leather that hung from the back of the neck collar. In Chris's mind, he was becoming victorious: Matt was giving in to him. Chris grinned, his lips parted against the counter that one side of his face was smashed onto. He could feel Matt's hands moving over his ass, the palms brushing against the leather loops that rested under the fleshy lobes, still concealed under Chris's pants. Matt's hands roamed and squeezed his ass, the groping fingers hungry in their big bites. His hot pants were filling his ears, but he could hear Matt panting too.

"Spread." Matt said, kicking at Chris's feet to urge his legs apart. Chris moved them obediently, widening his stance. "Very good, Chrissy."

Matt purred, his hands still working. One of his searching hands slid between Chris's legs. He felt up Chris's straining package, finding the head again, and toying with it before dragging his fingers back, over the material that molded to Chris's balls, which he played with for a moment. Chris mewed softly and rocked his hips, sliding against Matt's cupping hand. When Matt was satisfied with that, he moved on, dragging the tips along the outline of where Chris's ass parted. Chris shivered, his moans and vocalizations increasing.

"You're such a slut." Matt bite out, reaching around to the chain again, and tugging it.

"Matty please, please--"

"Do you like being tied up?"

"Ah—ye-yessss." Chris hissed.

Matt moved his fingertips teasingly up and down the crevasse that he really wanted to touch without the barrier of the leather pants, that he want to lick, kiss, and fuck. With those thoughts and torrid images crashing through Matt's horny mind, he almost lost any shred of self control all together. He barely kept a deep groan from ripping out of his throat, but somehow he managed. Chris was wiggling against his fingers, whimpering. Matt struggled to get his voice back before he spoke again.

"Do you like when I touch you here?" Matt pressed his fingers harder this time, probing for Chris's sensitive opening under the leather fabric.

"Yes! Yes, yes yes—Matt—oh—Ma-Matt more!"

If he doesn't stop with the noises—oh I'm gonna cream myself real soon. Matt thought as he closed his eyes tight, and tried to ignore that trembling of legs and the ache of his leaking member.

"Wider." Matt forced out, his voice more a bark than a legible word.

Chris moved his feet a little, but not enough to Matt's liking. The palm of Matt's hand striking the tight pulled leather was loud in the kitchen, the sting harsh but so wonderful to Chris.

"Wider!" Matt demanded.

Chris splayed his legs as wide as he could, the tight muscles of his inner thighs protesting as they ached with the strain of his stance. He moved his hips too, attempting to give Matt all the access he could. Those fingers were back, pushing harder, storking, prodding the material between his cheeks and against the opening that was more than ready to be fucked—hard and dirty and hard some more—that was how Chris wanted it, so brutal that he couldn't walk when it was over with, or the week after. Matt's fingers kept on touching, moving, probing harder and harder at that entrance but never going in. It was the most maddening thing Chris had ever ever felt. He didn't even realize that he was begging and pleading please please please please please over and over and over. His cock was steadily dripping, at any moment ready to explode into a million wet pieces.

"Please what, Chris?" Matt gasped. Don't give in, hold on, just hold on a little bit more you have Chris right where you want him he's about to give in he wants you inside so damn bad—

"Please!" Chris practically cried.

"Please what?" Matt stopped the rhythmic stroke, and just pressed hard against that needful spot. He could feel the material sinking into that hole, his fingers just barely moving into the small bud.

"Please fu—fu-fuck, Matt what-what are you doing!" Chris cried out.

"I'm winning, that's what I'm doing." Matt hissed. "Now, do you want me to fuck this pretty ass of yours until you scream?"

Chris's eyes clouded, the realization of Matt's words hitting him. Matt hadn't given in to him at all. Now here he was a whoreish mess, needing Matt so impossibly bad. I can't. Chris thought to himself, desperately, and he didn't know what that meant. I can't hold on? I can't give in? Can't…think…

"Come on Chris, come on baby let me make you cum."

Chris's voice sounded foreign to him, as the word 'no' sounded sluggishly form his lips like a slow leak in a tire. Matt pulled away from him, the wonderful fingers left, the touches stopped. Matt unlatched Chris's wrists, and his arms fell limply, as though they had forgotten how to work. His arms weren't the only thing not working—his brain wasn't working either.

"Wha—why did you stop!" He whined in frustration.

"You said no."

Chris tried to move his legs, and shakily got them to budge a little, as he weakly gripped the counter. His shoulders, elbows, and legs ached, but nothing compared to the ache between his legs as his erection slowly deflated a little. It must have realized before Chris could, that it wasn't going to get fully pleasured tonight.

"I…said wha-what?"

"You said no." Matt repeated.

He felt a bit of a pang of guilt for the state he was leaving Chris in. Matt was better at the whole 'self control' thing but even he was close to losing it, so he could only imagine what Chris was feeling right now. Chris stumbled away from the counter, and on wobbly legs and disappeared into the bedroom. Matt stood where he was, chewing his lips for a moment.

"Ah, damn it." Matt cursed under his breath, and then headed for the bedroom.

Chris was sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. His wet pants and the bondage gear was strewn around the floor, and he was wrapped up in the sheet from the bed. When Matt moved closer to him, he realized with dismay that Chris was crying. Then again, just as he was thinking of saying something comforting, a thought crossed his mind. What if this too was part of Chris's plan? It wasn't beyond the blond to use a guilt trip on Matt, or even make himself cry, and he was very convincing in his acting.

"Chris…are you okay?" Matt finally asked, resting a hand on Chris's back.

"No."

"Don't cry, Christopher. Come on, let's just go to bed and…forget about it."

"Why don't you put me out of my misery and just let me win?"

"Put you out of your misery? As if you haven't been tormenting me! Do you think you're the only one Chris? Grow up and quit acting like a fourteen year old girl being groped for the first time!" Matt shouted, grabbing a pillow, and sprawled out on the bed.

"I'm sorry Matthew. It's just what you do to me. You make me act that way, and that's one thing I can't and won't deny."

Chris grabbed the other pillow, and went to curl up on the couch.