A/n: I didn't realize it had been so long since I updated this! Sorry! After writing Gone, it's been a little bit of a challenge to write something that doesn't take place in just one day's time. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it. Keep at it - I love reading what you have to say!
His lips were pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed against him at first, intending to shove him back and free herself of his grasp. Her lips parted to protest, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.
Slowly, she stopped resisting him.
Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling him closer to her – suddenly wanting him as close as she could manage to get him. They stumbled backwards, her back hitting a wall, pushing their bodies even closer together. He pushed his hips into hers as his mouth finally strayed, giving them both the air they desperately needed.
"Chris…" Stephanie breathed, her chest heaving as his mouth left a wet trail down her neck. Her fingertips massaged his scalp. He silenced her with another kiss as he started to slowly grind his hips against her…
Chris jolted from his sleep as a sharp cackle of thunder erupted. He looked around, startled and confused as to why he'd been awakened when lightning illuminated the sky through his hotel room window and another sharp crack of thunder echoed it. He leaned back against the pillow, glancing over at the alarm clock before remembering his dream. He sighed irritably as he thought about it.
Three weeks. Three damn weeks he'd been having this dream. At first, it had merely been strange - something that he wanted to forget more than remember. After all, dreaming about making out with the one woman in the world that you detested more than anything else wasn't something that most people did. The first time he had been able to dismiss it as the alcohol that he'd drank the night before. When it happened again, he wrote it off as a coincidence. After a week, he began to wonder if he needed therapy.
He'd lost track of how many times he'd had the dream, knowing only that it involved him making out, and quite possibly "doing the deed" - as he started referring to it, with none other than his sworn nemesis, Stephanie McMahon. The most disturbing part about it to Chris was the fact that while his conscious mind might have been less than thrilled at the prospect of making out with Stephanie McMahon, his body was convinced otherwise.
It changed every so often, the dream. Sometimes he would take her right there against the wall, sometimes she would push him away and slap him senseless. No matter what the ending of the dream was, it always started with him making out with her. Part of him wanted to argue that this was just his subconscious's way of dealing with their little feud – that it was just raging hormones left over from the night he'd kissed her at King of the Ring.
But another part of him, a part that he refused to acknowledge, thought that it might be something more than that.
"You have got to be kidding me." Chris said to Vince, who had just informed him that he would be competing in more than three matches that evening. Vince stared at him.
"Do you have a problem with the matches my daughter made, Chris?" Vince asked him snidely. Chris gritted his teeth.
"No." He answered. Vince gave him a look.
"Good. You'd better get ready then." He said, motioning for Chris to walk back in the direction of the dressing room. Chris turned on his heel and balled his hands into fists. He had just won this Intercontinental Championship last night and now he was going to have to defend it in at least four matches later that evening. And apparently, he had his favorite McMahon to thank for it.
He sat in the locker room and brooded about the situation. He would have felt a little better about it if he'd have at least known who his opponents were going to be. He knew that he could beat anybody they picked for him to face, but he also knew that he was going to be tired and worn down after the first few matches, which would make him an easier target for his last two opponents.
He was trying to come up with a strategy for his matches when his mind started drifting back to that dream again. He'd had this problem ever since he started having it – he couldn't stay focused on anything for very long without her suddenly interrupting his thoughts. That, more so than the dream itself, was what was pissing him off about the situation the most. He used to be able to focus and concentrate on several things at once. He used to be good at multitasking and getting many things done in a limited amount of time, but lately…lately he just couldn't find the mental capacity to do it.
"Chris!" Jason Reso, better known as Christian, snapped at him, waving his hand in front of his face. Chris shook his head a little bit and looked up at him. Jay smirked.
"Your match is on in, like, ten minutes, man." Jay told him.
"Thanks." Chris told him. Jay stood in front of him for a second.
"Are you okay, dude?" He asked. "You seem a little…preoccupied." Chris looked up at him and smiled.
"Nah, just getting in the zone." Chris told him, standing up. "I didn't realize how close to time it was getting though." Jay nodded his understanding and Chris walked away from him. He was standing by the steps to go through the curtain when he saw her. Hunter had his arm looped protectively around her shoulder as they strolled through the hallway. Her crimped hair was pulled up in a high ponytail tonight. He let his eyes study her for a moment, taking in the black sleeveless top and pink mini-skirt that she was wearing before turning his attention to the black curtain in front of him once more. He heard his countdown start to hit and he chanced a glance at her once more.
She caught him looking this time, and with a smug look on her face, she pulled Hunter close to her and promptly began to make out with him. Chris narrowed his eyes at her as his pyro went off, and a warm feeling started to settle in his stomach, an emotion that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He didn't have the time to consider it, so he made his way through the curtain and down the ramp for his first match of the evening.
Two hours later, after most of the other superstars and some of the crew had left, he was sitting in the locker room, seething. Bad enough that he had to face four different competitors tonight – worse yet that he had to defend, and ultimately lose, the Intercontinental Championship in each match. And despite all of that, somehow the thing that had ruined his evening the most was seeing that smug look on Stephanie's face before she and her husband commenced making out in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see.
He wasn't sure what else he had been expecting, though.
The more he thought about her, the angrier he got. He was angry with her for costing him the Intercontinental title, he was angry with her for making out with Hunter in the hallway, he was angry with her for being Vince McMahon's daughter, hell, he even got to the point where he was angry with her for having crimped hair because he thought that it looked stupid. He stood up as his anger reached its peak and started throwing his things in his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder and storming out of the locker room.
He was almost to the parking garage when he noticed her walking into one of the larger locker rooms. Before he was able to think about what he was doing, he followed her in.
"I told you, I'll be in the car in a second, Hunt-" She cut herself off when she saw the man who was standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed and she smiled at him. "Well, if it isn't Chris Jericho, the former Intercontinental Champion."
"All right, cut the crap Stephanie." He said to her sharply, taking a step into the room. "What the hell was that tonight, huh?" He asked her. "What kind of shit is that? Making me defend my title four times in one night?" She continued to smile at him.
"I call it the spirit of competition. I felt like restoring some credibility to the championship." She said.
"And how does defending the title four times in the same night restore credibility to the championship?" He asked her.
"It doesn't." She admitted to him. "But you no longer holding it does." He scoffed at her.
"Really? And why's that?" He asked her.
"Because the Intercontinental Championship should only be held by honorable people." She said to him. "Not by an arrogant, sexist, foul-mouthed pig like yourself."
"Is that so?" He asked, taking a step towards her. She nodded.
"Yes, it is." She said, defiantly.
"Well, coming from a filthy, dirty, disgusting, skanky, brutal, bottom-feeding, trash bag ho, " He paused, staring at her flushed and angered face. "I'll take that as a compliment." She shook her head at him.
"You asshole." She muttered at him.
"Just calling it like I see it, Princess." He said to her, shrugging.
"You're going to wish that you had never walked through that door." She promised him.
"I'm already wishing that." He informed her.
"Well, next week, you're going to be thinking about it a lot more when you're on your back in the middle of that ring." She said to him. He smirked at her.
"Is that what this is about? You just like seeing me on my back?" He asked. "Are you more of a girl who likes it on top, Princess?" Her mouth fell open as the comment sprang from his lips. He watched as her face quickly turned from one of surprise to anger and he saw her hand pull back in slow motion – intending to slap him. He caught her hand by the wrist and stared into her piercing gray eyes. She was glaring at him – almost daring him to do something to her, promising to make his life miserable if he decided to act on an impulse. He could read it all in her eyes, and he didn't doubt it for a second. Which was why his next move surprised him even more that it did her.
Without thinking, he yanked her towards him and pressed his lips against hers.