Raging Passion

By Archangel

Chris made his way through the people, comfortable in the hustle and bustle of the backstage area. The rush of the pre-show jitters had little effect on him most of the time as he was prone to simply centering his mind on the business at hand, blocking out all other distractions. Of course, it was even easier to be relaxed when he wasn’t even scheduled to appear on the show in question. At least not yet. Smackdown was not Jericho’s stomping grounds. After all, the slogan was “RAW is Jericho,” and “Smackdown is Jericho” just didn’t hold the same ring to it in his mind. Despite that he had come to the show tonight just to check things out and make his presence known because of the rumors he had heard that he might be transferred.

The energy of this roster held a completely different air to the one on RAW, a fact that Jericho could only put up to the fact that they weren’t being broadcasted live to the entire world. He had heard a number of the superstars say in the past that working on tapings was much easier to them and that it toned down the pressure a great amount. That was something Chris had never really had much trouble with. Performing in front of a camera didn’t unnerve him in the least. What he didn’t understand is why the cameras being live or taped would make such a difference when the audience was live no matter what. They were the ones that were judging you in the here and now. They were the ones that either cheered or booed... or sometimes chanted things like “you fucked up” or “boring, boring, boring!” Chris had taken his fair share of those chants. He wasn’t fond of them.

“Jericho!” He blinked at his name being called and turned around, smiling a little when he spotted a familiar face. Of course, spotting Edge in a crowd was hardly considered a feat as he towered over half the population with the brightest head of blond hair one could imagine. “Hey there. I’d heard you were jumping ship. I suppose this means the rumors are true?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that quite yet. I just wanted to pay a visit and check out the competition actually,” he answered, giving a light shrug.

“Competition, eh?” Adam smirked, arching a brow down at him.

“Yeah... Size up my future rivals...” Chris glanced him up and down, his cerulean gaze then settling on the shimmering gold draped casually over Edge’s shoulder. He peered closer at it, reaching up to play with his hair as he saw his reflection. “Just get a view of a possible future on the blue side. I think I can make blue my new favorite color.” It peered up at him again and smirked. “It goes damn good with gold.”

“Oh-ho! So that’s what this little visit is all about huh? You want a piece of the Edgester and a little taste of...” Edge brushed his fingers over the championship, “ i my /i title. Well, if they don’t want you taking the title over on RAW, what makes you think that they’re going to let you try for this one over here?”

“Well, there’s no Triple H over here, for one,” he cracked easily. “That roided-up, walking garden hoe may be a complete and total assclown, but at least he knows a threat when he sees one. He knows that he can beat Randy Orton with his eyes shut. I, on the other hand, would be a formidable foe for the Game, which is why he’s pitching a hissy bitchfit and sending me packing. Since he’s not here, though...”

Edge snarled, wrinkling his nose and huffing at the insinuation Chris was making towards his belt. “Yeah, he’s not here, but I am! And I can guarantee you that there is no way in hell you will ever get your hands on my belt. It’s mine! See?” He pointed at the nameplate. “Says Edge right on it.” He grinned and patted the gold, adjusting it on his shoulder. “And so long as I’m boning the general manager, that name is never gonna change. See, I am the next Triple H, Chris. Not only am I talented, charismatic, and one of the best wrestlers in the business today, but I am a fucking genius. I know how to keep what’s mine, either by force or by wit.”

Chris, completely unimpressed by the long explanation, just rolled his eyes. “Or by shoving your cock wherever it’s convenient at the time. Yeah, that’s the most admirable quality I’ve ever seen.”

“Admirable or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the champ,” Edge grinned, snapping his gum annoyingly as he turned to walk away.

Chris took his turn to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “The world misses the Edge that played with kazoos! They hate the one that plays with the emotions of a grieving widow!”

With that final retort Chris turned on his heel and stomped off in the opposite direction, hoping to find some better company. He heard the bell overhead that signified the beginning of the show, which meant it was time to be quieter and watch where you wander so you don’t bungle a shot. Seemed like a good time to check into catering and hide from the cameramen who might get the idea that a shot of Jericho in the background would mean ratings. Following the signs and the faint scent of food, Chris got himself inside the makeshift cafeteria to grab a bite to eat and mingle, smiling when the Hardys waved as soon as he entered the door.

It was about an hour later that Chris was once again wandering the hallways, soaking up the feelings around him given off by the stars and crew alike. The energy of a show was indescribable. It was a tangible sensation, similar to tension, almost like the nervousness one would get before going on your first big date, mixed with the panic a person would feel when faced with a menacing attacker holding a bat. Chris liked to compare it to the time that he got held up at gunpoint in Mexico, only with the intensity turned down a couple notches and stretched out over a period of three to four hours. It was like waiting for a gun to go off in your face, the trigger being pulled once you step in front of the crowd, but the bullet not truly hitting you until you collapse just behind the curtains backstage once again.

He was pulled suddenly from his personal reverie by being slammed into from the side. His forehead bounced harshly off the cement wall as he shoved towards the nearest door, then just as quickly shoved into the room when the door was pushed open. Blackness took over his vision for a few moments as he staggered, whirling around to try to feel for his attacker, listening in hopes of catching a voice so he could identify the culprit. A second later the lights snapped back on and none other than Edge stood before him, a vicious smirk on his arrogant face. Chris blinked, taking in that smirk as well as the fact that Edge was in ring gear and wet-haired. Was he wet with sweat or did he just shower? That would give a clue as to how easy this may or may not be. He hadn’t paid attention to the monitors to see if Edge had gone on or not.

“What the hell gives? You got a problem with a guy walking?” he demanded.

“I’ve got a problem with someone who doesn’t show me respect!” Edge snapped back. “I’m the World Champion! No one comes onto my show and mouths off to me like you did earlier.”

“Oh, is that so? Do you want me to apologize?” Chris gave a mocking pout. “Did the big bad Jericho hurt poor wittle Edge’s feelings? And here I thought the i Edgester /i was such a champ! Some champ!”

Edge growled and threw himself at Chris, slamming him to the floor under his weight, raining fists down on him as quickly as Chris threw them back. With his vantage point and his longer reach, however, Edge soon had Chris reduced to ducking and covering. It was all he could do to cover his head to fend off the powerful blows. All the while he screamed obscenities back up at him, kicking and trying to get away, defending himself verbally as was his only option in the moment.

“Jesus Chris, can’t you shut up even when you’re getting the shit beaten out of you?!” Edge remarked, pausing to look down at him, only to get punched square in the nose.

“Got your attention, didn’t I?” Chris panted, hitting him a few more times for good measure before shoving him off, scrambling for the door with all the intention of getting the hell away from him.

“Don’t you fucking run, you coward!”

Edge tackled him once again, slamming him against the door before he could get it open. Chris felt himself snatched by his hair and the back of his shirt and whirled around, balance leaving him as he was flung around the room, landing firmly on a table, shocked it didn’t break under his weight. He slowly raised his head, mind spinning, and tried to get his bearing, as well figure out where Edge was, what he was planning. He heard the other man roar in anger and decided to move without even trying to figure out why, rolling across the table just in time to avoid getting pummeled with a trashcan. He lashed out with his foot at Edge face, hitting him twice before he was forced to stumble back wearing a healthy boot print on his cheek. Thinking quickly, Chris grabbed the trashcan for himself and shoved it down over Edge’s head and shoulders, then ran him backwards to slam him into the wall. Edge slid down the wall to his ass on the floor, trashcan still over his head. Never the less, Chris reeled back and kicked the can with all his strength, denting it in and slamming it against the wall once again. This time Edge’s body went limp, slowly falling to the side on the floor.

Panting for breath, Chris quickly stumbled out of the room, heading towards the nearest voices, spotting some of the other stars and a few crew members. He tried his best to explain what had happened as he fell to his knees on the floor, but managed very little more than “Edge... attacked... down there” and a vague pointing in the direction of where he had left the champ. He remained quiet as they tended to his wounds, finding out that his eye was blackened and his nose was no doubt broken, as well as having a split lip. He hadn’t realized all of those things during the fight. He absently wondered if Edge was okay, hoping he was hurting just as much, but still okay.

A couple days later, the World Champion and the local Savior were reduced to two quiet, cowering young men, keeping their heads low down as they took a brow beating from the CEO of the WWE, as well the RAW GM, the Smackdown GM, and the head of Talent Relations.

“And furthermore! If you think that you’re going to Smackdown to challenge for that title, Jericho, you are out of your mind! Edge is damn lucky I’m not stripping that belt from him for this! I have not seen such childish behavior in a long time! What were you thinking?”

“Well, I-“ Edge started to answer Vince.

“Shut up!” Edge quickly shut his mouth. “I don’t want to hear a word out of either one of you! In fact, I don’t want to hear a word i about /i either one of you for a good long time. If I hear one negative remark about either one of you I won’t hesitate to slap a suspension on both of your asses! Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered.

“Good! Now get out of my sight.”

In the hallway, Chris paused to wipe his brow, taking a deep breath to steady his knotted up stomach. He glanced up at Edge, who looked just as nauseated as he did. Edge looked down at him for a moment then looked at the door closed behind them before leaning down to mutter.

“Personally, I think that was worse than you kicking my ass.”

“No shit.” Chris widened his eyes to get his point across, shaking his head. “I’d gladly got a few more rounds with you than face that again. Having my job in jeopardy is not my idea of fun.”

He started down the hallway away from him, surprised when Edge practically bounced after him, falling into step next to him as if they were the best of pals. He looked up at the taller blond, arching a brow at the grin on his face.

“Actually, that fight was pretty fun. Aside from the contusions and blood, I kinda enjoyed getting to let out all that energy.” He looked down at Chris, blinking at the arched brow. “Um.. sorry. You probably hate my guts still.”

Chris sighed. “I don’t hate your guts.” He pushed the button for the elevator, crossing his arms. “I just think that was a damn stupid reason to try to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” Edge exclaimed in what seemed like genuine shock. “I was just pissed off.”

“Yeah, well I was pissed off when you slammed my head into the wall!” he snapped.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve gotten worse blows to the head in a match.” He followed him into the elevator once the doors slid open, reaching to push the buttons quickly and getting the doors to shut behind them, leaving them alone. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I guess it did get a little out of control.”

“Oh yeah, um, just a little,” Chris rolled his eyes. “You actually enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Edge nodded enthusiastically, making Chris just shake his head again. “You are weird.”

“That’s why the boys like me,” he grinned, arching his brows like he always did when making a lewd comment.

“Groan,” Chris said and “facepalmed” himself, not believing what he was hearing. “Please tell me that fight wasn’t your idea of foreplay.”

“Well, no... Not usually.” Chris opened one eye in his direction, seeing that he was looking thoughtful. “I mean, I’ve done the violent sex thing before, sure, but not usually with actual real violence that could get me or anyone else in serious trouble.” Edge looked down at him again. “I did have one hell of a raging hard on afterwards, though. The nurse was mighty flattered to say the least.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake!”

Chris stomped off of the elevator out into the parking garage with Edge fast on his heels. He ignored the man behind him as he fished his keys out of his pocket, fully intent on getting in his car and driving away, needing to get to the next city and not wanting to spend the time on the road due to missing the final boarding call for the last available flight. Somehow, he wasn’t very surprised when he suddenly grabbed and slammed down hard onto the hood of the nearest luxury vehicle.

“Edge!” He cried out, tensing in anticipation of another fight, but then he felt lips against his ear moving quickly down his throat. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it feel like?” he snapped back before biting deep into his shoulder, making Chris cry out in pain. “Mmm.. do that again.”

Again he bit and Chris gave the same wail of agony, struggling against his hold in a futile attempt to get away, but Edge had his body pressed tight against his, bent over the hood of the car with his wrists effectively pinned over his head. He switched his grip on him to hold him firmly with one hand, the other grabbing at the collar of Chris’s shirt and pulling it to the side to bare skin, licking at the warm flesh and moaning softly at the taste. Chris growled in response, struggling harder. He managed to lift his foot and stomped his heel down on Edge toes, making him groan in pain... or at least he thought it was pain, but it did nothing to deter him.

“Fucking Christ... are you going to try to fuck me right here in the parking structure?” he hissed.

“Is that so horrible?” Edge chuckled, lifting up slightly to lean and peer at Chris’s face.

“Someone could see us, you jackass!”

“Ohhh... Yeah, you’re right.” Edge glanced around a moment, then grabbed Chris by the back of the collar, yanking him upright and hurrying him along down the row of cars. “Move it. C’mon quit dragging your feet.”

“What the fuck are you doing?! Let go of me!”

“Shhh! If someone hears you they’ll tell Vince and we’ll be fucked!” He glanced around again. “And not in the good healthy way I’m about to fuck you.”

“What?!” Chris squeaked, but then was directed between two vehicles, slammed against the passenger door of the Hummer at his back, realizing this was the rental Edge had gotten. “A Hummer? Are you compensating for something I should know about?”

Edge growled and slammed his head against the glass again, before yanking the door open and shoving him up into the backseat. “Get in there, smartass. I’ll show you who’s compensating for what.”

Chris tried in vain to scramble for the other door, only to get Edge’s full weight on his back in an instant, dragging him back by the belt of his jeans. The door slammed shut and there was only the faintest bit of light in the backseat of the SUV, the dark parking garage and the tinted window making a rather romantic atmosphere if not for Chris trying to kick Edge in the head. For a long moment there was more struggling and hushed voices cussing at each other as one of them fought to get away, while the other fought to get as close as possible. In all the movement the radio was turned on to a low, sensuous beat and the front seats were pushed forward to make more room for comfort.

“Chris, damn it, I’m trying to have sex with you, not kill you,” Edge hissed as he finally got Chris’s flailing limbs pinned down.

Their gazes met, both of them panting with effort in two opposite directions, and they stared into each other’s eyes. Edge hesitantly closed the gap once he thought Chris wouldn’t bite him, kissing him almost gently, moving slow... just in case he did bite. But Chris didn’t bite this time. In fact he returned the kiss, tilting his head into it with a soft sigh and before Edge knew it he had a pair of hands buried in his hair and legs wrapped around his waist. This was so much better than kicking and punching each other.

“There,” he whispered when they paused to breathe. “Much better..”

He moved to sit up slightly, reaching for the buttons of Chris’s shirt and making quick work of them, pushing the silver and blue fabric from his shoulders as well pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it in the front seat. He started to grab for a belt next, but was surprised when he was enveloped in a tight embrace, soft willing lips moving eagerly against his. He moaned and a whimper answered it along with the cautious swipe of Chris’s tongue. Their kiss deepened, hands roamed over bare skin, fingers worked to bare even more, and the earlier violence was swiftly forgotten as their bodies gave in to carnal pleasure.

“Turn over.. on your stomach..”

“You better know what you’re doing...” Edge chuckled as he pulled open the middle console between the front seats, retrieving a bottle of baby oil that was kept around just in case. Just in case of what, he had never really given thought to, but now that it had come he was glad he’d been precautious. “And what about your plush interior?”

“I’m more concerned with your interior than the car’s at the moment.” Chris groaned at the joke, but snickered a little, making Edge smile with triumph at getting him to laugh. “I know what I’m doing.”

He reassured him as he poured a good amount of the oil over his fingers, guiding the rivulet of clear fluid down between Chris’s cheeks. He jumped with the cold at first, hissing through bared teeth over his shoulder. Edge only shushed him, rubbing his slick fingers over his entrance, gently pushing, but not quite penetrating him yet. He knew that in this moment in this location, Chris wouldn’t be completely relaxed or easy going with this, especially after the tension that had been created between them with their earlier spats. So he used careful, gentle pressure to prepare him, to get him used to his fingers being there as he leaned over him, laying kisses along his back and shoulder.

When he heard his lover give a sigh of pleasure was when he began to push inside of him. The first effort caused Chris to jump and tense right up, a movement Edge anticipated by pulling right back out. He kissed his shoulder again, then his cheek, murmuring words in his ear to soothe him as he repeated the action, gently pushing inside of him with a single digit, pulling back when he tensed, until soon the movement resembled something more like sex than simple preparation.

“You’re okay?” Edge whispered to him.

“Yeah...” Chris glanced over his shoulder as best he could. “Go ahead.. more.”

“Mmm...” Edge moaned, smiling as he pulled his hand back, gently pressing with two fingers. “I wanna hear you say that again.”

Chris squeaked, his breath coming faster as he dealt with the stretching pressure. “Wha... Say what again?”

“More...”

Chris only whimper, but Edge didn’t press the request, knowing that it wasn’t easy to be on the receiving end of such treatment. It took a lot of careful breathing and relaxation on Chris’s part, and twice as much patience as his own part, doing his best to be careful and not get over eager. Instead of thinking about what was soon to come, he focused on reading Chris’s reactions... as well, enjoying the sensations of plunging his fingers deep into his tight passage, savoring the oil-slicked flesh that tightened and loosened in response to his touch.

“Should I try for three, Chris?” he whispered.

“I think you might kill me,” he whimpered in turn.

“I don’t want to hurt you..”

“No, not that kind of kill,” he groaned, lifting his head again, gazing up at him with lust hazed eyes.

As if the look on his face wasn’t enough, Edge reached underneath him with his other hand, finding Chris’s dripping cock, smirking when it jutted to his touch and he gave another sharp whimper. “So hard for me, Chris,” Edge whispered, stroking his fingers over him, feeling the pre-cum slick his movements nearly as well as the baby oil was his other hand.

“Oh God.. please...” Chris moaned, his hips shifting first towards the strokes over his length, then back to the fingers that slide easily in and out of his body. “More..”

“I definitely like that word coming from you.” Edge moved from where he had been kneeling in the floor of the Hummer around behind Chris, pulling him up a little higher to adjust their position just right. “I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Fast would be fine too,” Chris panted.

“I won’t hurt you..”

But that statement didn’t go completely unheeded as Edge positioned the head of his cock at Chris’s quivering opening, watching as he pressed against him and the body slowly gave way, allowing him inside. That first penetration was the hardest on his lover, provoking Chris to give a shrill sound in his throat and drop his forehead rather hard against the armrest on the door. They stayed still together for a long moment as Chris adjusted. It seemed like an eternity to Edge before he finally felt Chris push back just the slightest, keeping still even longer so that he could let Chris move as he wished. He moaned in rapture as he shifted beneath him, rocking slowly back and forth, taking him just slightly deeper on each movement back. On an afterthought, he grabbed the bottle of oil and drizzled it down over his length while Chris moved...

“Ohhh...” came a grateful moan of relief and, finally, pleasure. “Yes.. that helped so much.”

“Should’ve just said something, Chris.”

“Sorry... brain not exactly working at the moment.”

They both snickered a little, only to be cut off by a wild gasp when Edge drew back and thrust fully into Chris’s body, burying himself to the hilt. That gasp was followed just as quickly by a plaintive moan of ecstasy... and the word “more.” That word was all that was needed to give the champ on top all the permission he needed to take his lover for everything he was worth, hips instantly snapping once again, falling easily into a rhythmic pounding. Chris wailed in pure bliss, pressing his arms against the door to brace himself and his nails digging deep into the leather. Sweat trickled down his temples and down the back of his neck as he gasped for breath in between every crying moan, his body coming alive with energy as pleasure hummed through his body, quickly pushing him close to the edge of perfect orgasm.

Edge’s panting breaths were accompanied with fevered growls; grunts of effort that also gave away the enjoyment he was feeling. His chest molded perfectly to the arch of Chris’s back. He couldn’t help but cling to him, feeling the heat between them grow hotter with each slam of his hips against his upturned, little ass. The sound of flesh against flesh grew louder, more frequent, in a growing crescendo with Chris’s yells that were nearing screams, the occasional curse word being mixed in along with Edge’s name and directions to do it harder or faster.. or just flat out more, more, more! Somehow through the haze of lust Edge managed to reach underneath Chris’s hips, wrapping his long fingers around his length to stroke him as in time with their movements as he could manage. He felt Chris’s body tense against his, the muscles all through his back becoming hard as a rock, his form starting to tremble.

“That’s it... Gonna cum for me? Cum for me, Chris.. Come on..” he growled next to his ear before sinking his teeth into his shoulder once again.

Chris screamed, throwing his head against Edge’s shoulder as pure euphoria overcame him, his hips bucking erratically to the hand wrapped tightly around his aching cock, spilling hot fluids over Edge’s clenched fist and the plush interior that the superstar claimed to not be worried about. Over his shoulder he heard deep, almost purring moans grow louder and more frantic, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as Edge’s length pounded deeper into his body for a moment, forcing through his tightness, and then heat flushed through him... pure liquid heat pooling as Edge came inside of him. The two of them gasped and panted for breath, all but collapsing together in sated contentment.

After a long moment, Edge gradually lifted up, moving carefully so not to hurt Chris, but guiding him to sit up beside him and pulling him in against his chest. He thread his fingers into his short, sweaty hair, taking a tight grip and pulling his head back to look at him. Chris blinked sleepy, deep blue eyes at him. Slowly, smiles spread across their lips just before they shared a tender kiss.

The End

Legalities: Chris Jericho, Edge, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters professional or personal lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story.