Title: Make It Better
Rated: M (Mature)
Genre(s): Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Pair(s): Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam
Summary: Sequel to Please, Don't Leave Me. Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.
Warning: Slash, Possible Mpreg
Part: 12/13
OOOO
"Phil, baby…" Chris tossed the bottle aside and knelt down in front of his baby boy. Phil was crying softly, his left hand coated in blood from where he had landed on the broken bottle. "Shit, baby, who did this to you?"
Phil tried to talk, but instead he started to wheeze. He still didn't have full control over his breath.
Chris shook his head. "Nevermind, don't answer that. Just, shh…" he softly shushed him. "…let me take care of you. I can't stand to see you like this, baby-boy. It hurts me almost as much as it hurts you."
All Phil could do was nod. He wanted to feel better so badly… all he wanted was someone to comfort him.
Carefully, Chris lifted Phil's shirt. "Shit, baby… you need stitches. That bottle tore you up." Frantically, he searched for his cell, only to remember that he had left it back at the hotel. "Okay, um… how much can you move? Not that much, huh? Okay then, it's time for Plan B."
Gently, Chris lifted Phil into his arms and watched as the ravenette rested his head on his shoulder. Blood slowly leaked onto his shirt from the shift, but soon it slowed. Chris couldn't even remember the kiss that had made him so furious two hours before. All he could see was his baby-boy, broken and bloodied in the corner. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Phil. But what he did know was that he would hunt down the men that had hurt his baby and make them hurt in return.
"Chrissy…" Phil wheezed, his bloody hand bunching the material of Chris' shirt until the fabric wrinkled. "I-I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this before. I l-love you."
Chris kissed his forehead. "I love you too, baby-boy."
Chris carried him out of the arena and toward his car, not wanting to waste anymore time. Carefully, he shifted Phil so that he could open the door, and then he slid him into the passenger seat. He knew that the rental company would come after him for the blood stains on the cloth interior, but he really didn't care. Right now, all he cared about was Phil. He went to close the door, but Phil wouldn't release him. He had this look of undeniable terror in his eyes, and it made Chris' heart ache.
Slowly, Chris removed Phil's hand from his shirt and showered the trembling hand with kisses. Phil offered him a watery smile, before he allowed Chris to buckle him in and tuck him safely into the car. Quickly, he rushed over to the other side and climbed in. Phil was unconscious by the time he started the car, but when he offered his free hand to the younger man, he latched onto it for dear life. Chris took a deep breath to calm his nerves, he pulled out of the parking lot and started off in the direction of the hospital.
OOOO
(Five Hours Later)
OOOO
Phil's eyes slowly flickered open, taking in his white-washed surroundings with some confusion. He felt pain… but it wasn't overbearing. No, it was more distant, almost like an annoying buzz in the background. Slowly, he turned his neck, trying to get accustomed to moving after being still for so long. He didn't even know how long he had been out, but he figured it had to have been some time if the pain had dwindled this much. And then, his olive eyes fell on the hand interlaced with his. Chris sat in the EZ-chair beside him, and Phil knew that his eyes had never left him.
"Chris -," Phil started, but Chris cut him off.
"No, Phil. This is my fault. I don't know who did this to you… but I should have tried harder to find out. When I found you on the floor like that… God, I just wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to hurt the bastard that did this to you." Chris said, his voice raw.
Phil nodded slowly, his eyes searching Chris for any sign of a lie. "I have to know this, Chris. When you said that you wanted no part in this storyline, that you never meant to hurt me – my mind or my body – did you mean it?"
Chris leaned forward, tears bristling in his eyes. "I've never meant anything more truly then that, Phil."
"You asked me, last week, who it was that had attacked me. And I told you that it didn't matter. I acted like I didn't know." Phil looked down at the white linens on the bed. "It was all a lie. I didn't want you to know how afraid I was. Because… the man who attacked me… was John Laurinaitis."
Chris' eyes widened, and he made to stand. Phil, startled, refused to release his hand. "That slimy little bastard! He thinks that he can put his hands on my baby and walk away unharmed?"
"Chris!" Phil shouted. "Don't hurt him! Don't you realize that that's what he wants? He wants to mess with our heads."
"I never wanted to contest that match with Bethany and Carolina… or even with Daylee. It was all the GM's idea. He threatened my job." Chris confessed. "But that shouldn't have mattered. I never should've done what I did."
"It may not have been the best choice." Phil confessed. "But you did what you believed you had to at the time…"
"What did he hold over you?" The blond asked, his voice strained.
Phil looked down at his sheets. "He said that I couldn't tell you. He said that you wouldn't believe me anyway."
"And you believed him?" He could barely contain the astonished tone of his voice.
"What else was I supposed to believe? You betrayed me!"
Chris rose out of the chair, unable to handle being confined for another moment. He couldn't stand this. All of this time, it had been the GM that had stood between him and his happiness. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen the obvious signs? John Laurinaitis hated the fact that Phil spoke his mind so freely, and would do anything to silence him… even create such a horrible match that could possibly end Phil's career. Not that the GM would have minded. It would be a weight off of his shoulders.
Reaching the far side of the room, he turned back to look at Phil on the small hospital bed. His hair was loose of the normal amount of gel, and his lip ring sat on the bedside table. He wouldn't be able to wear it until his lip healed fully. The nurses had taken his shirt, and had removed each and every piece of glass. Thick, white strips of gauze were tapped onto his abdomen to cover the wounds. And yet, somehow, he would be cleared to compete come Monday… that was, if he stayed off his feet and relaxed for the rest of the week.
"But… there's still more that I have to tell you, Chris. I knew about your second title shot even before you did. Granted, I didn't know about the Extreme Rules stipulation, but…" Phil trailed off, uncertain.
Chris motioned for him to continue. "How did you know this, baby-boy?"
The Second City Saint smiled at the beloved nickname. But then, his smile faltered. "I had just been counted out from my first match with Henry. And I was on my way to my locker room when I 'walked into' the GM's fist."
"He's lain his hands on you before?" The blond seethed.
"It wasn't the first time. And it certainly won't be the last."
"Yes. Yes, it will." Chris said, rushing back over to his husband's side and taking the smaller man's hand in his own. "We'll take this to the Board of Directors and have his sorry ass fired. And then, we'll take this to court and settle this at the cost of millions. He screwed with the wrong people, baby."
Phil was silent for a moment, and then he asked: "Chris?"
"What is it, baby-boy?"
"Where do we stand, now?" Phil asked, wanting to make sure that they were back on the same page. All he wanted was his husband back.
Chris studied the smaller man for a moment. They shouldn't be okay. Not after everything that they had gone through. But Chris just kept going back to the image of Phil in the corner… and it terrified him. What if he hadn't come around the corner at that moment? What if Phil had lain there and bled to death? How could he ever forgive himself? No, it was finally time to bury the hatchet. After Extreme Rules, all of this would officially be over. They would never let another storyline come between them like this.
"Chris…" Phil asked uncertainly.
"We're fine, Philly. We're just fine." Chris answered, kissing the back of Phil's hand softly.
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(The Next Day)
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"You don't have to worry about a thing, baby. I'll be especially careful with you." Chris smiled, before softly trailing kisses down Phil's neck. When he reached his collar bone, he suckled the warm flesh until a red bruise appeared.
A hand trailed up and pressed the tattoo behind Phil's ear, and the smaller man let out an excited whimper. "Don't be a fuckin' tease, Irvine! C'mon…"
Chris 'tsked'. "Patience, child. Patience."
Phil's olive eyes widened. "If you call me a child one more time, I swear no sex for two weeks!"
"Fine, how is 'extremely horny man-child'." Chris offered, while shooting his husband a look that said 'you wouldn't even make it two weeks anyway'.
"Fuck you, Irvine!" Blunt nails cut across Chris' already bare back in frustration.
"Actually, dearest, I believe that I will be the one fucking you." Chris clarified, before he took Phil's shirt off.
Carefully, Chris spread Phil's jean-clad thighs and climbed between them, leaning down to lavish that beautifully decorated chest with the attention that it deserved. He laved his tongue over the colorful artwork, paying careful attention to the skull on Phil's right pectoral. If he pressed down just hard enough… a loud moan tore from the ravenette's throat, and his hips thrust up to brush against Chris' barely constrained manhood. Slowly, Chris continued downward. He wove a path between the wounds, fearful of the pain they could cause if he touched them.
Finally, he reached the button of Phil's jeans. Frantic hands beat him to it, however. Quickly, the jeans were unbuttoned and the zipper slid down, before they were taken off and thrown onto the other side of the room. The boxers followed soon after. This left Phil, his Punk, in all of his naked glory, spread out on the bed beneath him. Chris studied the bruises that had started to fade thoughtfully, and once again he was reminded of Phil's body coated in crimson blood. But Phil's lips pressed against his own broke him from that state of mind. Now, it was all about the pleasure.
Watching as the Second City Saint crawled forward, careful not to twist so much that he would accidentally hurt himself, he took the waistband of Chris' boxers in his teeth and pulled them down swiftly, Chris moaning lustfully as those want-hazed olive eyes fixed on his erection. But, as much as he wanted to feel Phil's warm lips wrapped around his weeping erection, there would be time for that later. At that moment, he wanted to feel an even tighter heat wrapped around him. He reached into the bedside table and took out the lube.
He quickly slicked up one finger and slid it inside of Phil, watching his face screw up in pain. "Talk to me, baby-boy. Tell me that you love me."
"You know that I do." Phil moaned out as the finger brushed against his sensitive walls, but then the finger stopped.
"Of course I know the answer." Chris retorted matter-of-factly. "I just want to hear you say it."
"I love you… you damn motherfucker, move!" Chris mumbled about 'his baby had such a dirty little mouth'. "Of for the love of… A-AH!" Chris violently (but carefully) shoved two more fingers in and slammed them into Phil's prostate.
"You ready to take it, baby?" Chris asked, voice dripping with honey-sweet seduction.
"N-Now…"
Not wanting to keep his baby waiting any longer, he quickly slicked himself and aimed himself at the puckered entrance. There was a moment of silence as their eyes locked, a silent wave of trust flowing between them. It was like the final confirmation that everything was, in fact, okay now. Phil wouldn't try and leave him again. Phil would stay by his side through it all, and they would battle the beast known as John Laurinaitis together. And when Phil nodded slowly, Chris thrust in until he was fully seated in the smaller man.
"Fuck!" Phil hissed out, arching his back.
"Are you okay, baby-boy?" Chris asked, concerned. He didn't like the way that Phil arched, what with the stitches in his abdomen and stomach…
"I'm fine." Phil was quick to assure him. "'Just never get use to that, that's all."
Assured that his baby was okay, he slowly started to pull out until only the head remained. And then, quickly, he snapped his hips forward and impaled Phil on his cock. He started a hard and fast rhythm, always careful to ensure that Phil didn't bounce too much on the bed or rub against the blankets too harshly. When he felt the smaller man start to writhe beneath him, whining sweetly as his walls clenched around Chris' manhood, Chris quickly stroked him to completion. When the first waves of orgasam hit Phil, Chris was thrown over the edge as well.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, Chris fell onto the bed beside Phil and wrapped the smaller man in his arms. Taking a spare shirt, he cleaned his and Phil's essence off of the smaller man. "I love you, baby-boy. Never doubt that."
"I love you too, Chrissy. And I know." Phil buried his face in Chris' chest. "You did the impossible, Chris. You finally managed to make it better…"
OOOO
A/N: Well, I finally made a long chapter! Yeah! I hope you guys like and will review… pretty please? I love reviews!