Secrets and Promises
Rating: R
Content: M/M sexual situations, language, light bondage
Distribution: Okay, just let me know where
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone here, just borrowed them for a bit. G
Summary: Can 'Taker help Chris resolve his past?


August 10, 1999

The tall blond man stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, another around his hair. he went to his locker, grateful that it was empty, everyone having left already for their respective pursuits for the night. He'd had an extra long promo session that left him the only one around by the time he was let go.

Chris Jericho had only been in the WWF for about 3 weeks and was finding it both easy and difficult to fit in. He'd become good friends with Val Venis, Edge, Christian and Gangrel-all of whom he'd met in other federations-and X-Pac and the rest of DX. But there were many wrestlers that he found it very unsettling being around...most especially Faarooq and Bradshaw. They seemed to follow him wherever he went, either physically or with their eyes. When he'd look at them, they always gave him leering grins and wink at him lasciviously. He tried to stay as far away from them as possible.

One person that both intrigued and fascinated him beyond all others was Mark Callaway-better known as The Undertaker. He'd spoken less than a couple dozen words to him the whole time he'd been here, but he'd found him quiet, polite, reserved and intelligent. He admired his talent, athleticism and professional attitude. But he always got the feeling that Mark was not just looking at him when they met eyes...he felt as if he were looking into him, reading everything in his mind and soul. That made him very uneasy. Yet there was something else about him that conjured up emotions that he couldn't fathom.

He shook his head of his fanciful thoughts and dried his hair, brushing it out until it was crackling and gleaming golden in the fluorescent lights. He had just dropped the towel from around his hips and pulled on his underwear when a voice came from behind him that made him stiffen in alarm.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here?"

Chris whirled around in dread to see his worst fears confirmed. Bradshaw leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes hungrily roaming over his body, while Faarooq stood beside him, a wide grin on his face.

"He's a sweet piece of ass, isn't he, JB?" Faarooq asked, his own eyes dropping to the front of Chris's jockeys, his expression speculative.

"Mmmm, very sweet," Bradshaw agreed, straightening and taking a step toward him, his gaze sly and calculating. "And I mean to have me a sample."

Chris shrank back against the lockers, looking wildly about for escape, but Bradshaw and Faarooq circled the bench in front of him and closed in on either side of him.

"Please, don't!" Chris pleaded, feeling that old sense of helplessness and terror wash through him. It couldn't happen here, too. He couldn't go through it again. He was frozen to the spot, unable to flee. Bradshaw, in a lightning-quick move, grabbed him in a bear hug and pulled him close against him.

"oooh, baby, you smell nice," he purred in his ear, burying his face in Chris's hair, ignoring his feeble struggles to push away from him. "I think I could eat you up."

"No! Please, don't do this. I'm begging you..."

Faarooq moved up behind Chris, trailing a hand down his back, grasping a handful of Chris's ass. "Mmm, begging...yeah, you'll be begging all right. Begging for more before we're done."

Chris started to call for help, but Bradshaw forestalled him by slanting his mouth over his, plunging his tongue into his mouth, making him gag with revulsion. He renewed his efforts to get away, feeling Faarooq rip his underwear off and explore his buttocks, slipping his fingers in the valley between and probing his tight opening. Panic seized him, but hopelessness was what made him just collapse with only moans and whimpers to show his objection to this violation. When finally Bradshaw released his mouth to nibble on his throat, he tried to draw in a breath to scream, but Bradshaw, sensing his intentions, squeezed hard so that all Chris could produce was a weak squeak of pain.

"Ahh, he's so pretty," Faarooq murmured, pressing a finger into him roughly. "And so fucking tight. Oh, he's going to be a hot one tonight."

"I suggest you get your hands off him right now," said a low, deep, steely voice from the doorway.

Both Bradshaw and Faarooq jumped as if goosed and turned toward the uninvited guest. "What the fuck do you want, dead man?" Faarooq growled.

"Yeah, this is our gig. Go get your own bitch to play with," Bradshaw added, not letting go of Chris, who began mewling in a pitiful whine, nearly oblivious to what was going on around him, locked in his terror of the past and present.

Mark Callaway shifted his gray-green eyes toward Bradshaw, his gaze becoming hot and intense, his pupils dilating until they were almost black. "Let him go, Bradshaw."

Bradshaw's hold loosened, allowing Chris to wrench himself away...only to stumble backwards into Faarooq's arms, which closed around him in a bruising grip. Chris looked at Bradshaw, who seemed to be in some sort of trance, his eyes dazed and unfocused. Chris then looked at the newcomer...and felt his heart quicken. But he didn't get a chance to call out to him because Faarooq clamped a beefy arm around his throat, nearly cutting off the air to his windpipe.

"Stop that shit, dead man," Faarooq said in a warning voice. "Or I'll snap this pretty boy's neck, even if he is a sweet piece."

Mark's eyes glided almost lazily to the tall black man, meeting his eyes piercingly, his pupils going from fully dilated to pinpoints in a millisecond. His nostrils flared ever-so-slightly, his jaw flexing as he opened his mouth to speak. Only one word slipped out, soft and unintelligible to the captive blond man, but Faarooq stiffened in shock and fear, instantly releasing Chris and moving backward, grabbing his befuddled friend and dragging him along the lockers.

"Hey, man, I was just joking," Faarooq gibbered. "I wouldn't hurt the kid. Honest. We'll just leave him for you. You like pretty boys, don't you?"

Mark followed their progress, waiting till he heard the door slam at the other side of the locker room. He glanced back at Chris, just in time to see his knees buckle, falling forward.

Chris heard the door close, but he still couldn't quite believe he was safe. His body abruptly seized up in a horrible shudder that weakened his knees and he felt himself falling. If it hadn't been for Mark's quick, cat-like movements, he would have pitched to the floor and likely broken something.

Mark wrapped his arms around him, feeling the deep spasms racking his lean frame. He lifted him and sat down, laying him across his lap.

Chris couldn't stop shaking, his mind blurring, blending past and present, not really feeling himself being rocked like a baby, or hear Mark crooning nonsense words in his ear...at least, not at first. Eventually, he allowed himself to be soothed. That's when the tears came. He was mortified, but helpless to stop the wrenching sobs that seemed to be torn from his body-from his very soul. He gave up trying to control them and just sagged against Mark, clutching him tightly as he wept bitterly into his chest.

Mark's heart clenched at the sound of Chris's misery, stroking his back and hair, cooing to him softly. Finally, Chris's sobs started to fade until all that was left were sniffles and hiccups. Mark slid a finger beneath Chris's chin, raising it to meet his eyes.

"Feel better?" he question gently, using a thumb to wipe the remnants of his tears from his cheeks, noting the full, trembling lips and tear-spiked lashes, darkened to a honey gold color.

Chris blinked rapidly, then nodded a little, his face flushing with embarrassment, not only for his complete breakdown, but for his realization that he was still naked. "I-I'm fine,. Thanks," he mumbled, withdrawing his arms from his shoulders, attempting to move off Mark's lap. For a moment, it seemed as if he wouldn't release him, but then he sighed and let him go. Chris quickly skimmed into his jockeys, feeling less exposed now. He turned to see that Mark had risen and was watching him expressionlessly, his eyes idly flicking over his body, but he couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I want to thank you for helping me," Chris said tentatively.
Mark made a gesture of dismissal. "Those two won't be bothering you again." He saw the doubt on Chris's face, but didn't comment. Instead, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Chris stared at him in surprise at such an out of place question. "I..." He was just about to say 'no' when his stomach growled loudly and he flushed in chagrin. "I guess so."

Mark smiled faintly and nodded. "Good. If you get dressed, I'll meet you at the arena back door in...say, 5 minutes? There's something I need attend to first."

"Okay," he replied, turning to his locker to start dressing. Mark stood a moment scrutinizing his back before whirling on his heel and leaving the room.

When Chris was finished dressing, he swiftly stuffed his ring outfit in his duffel bag, throwing it over his shoulder and hurrying from the room. His bright blue eyes darting nervously about as he practically jogged down the hallway, petrified of running into Bradshaw and Faarooq again...and this time, there would be no one to help, he was sure of it.

But he made it to the back door unmolested and waited anxiously. He kept looking at his watch, seeing that more than 10 minutes had passed since Mark had left him. Did he forget? He was just about to make his way to the hotel on his own when he saw movement in the shadows of the hallway and he whipped around to see Mark striding toward him, his gym bag on his shoulder.

"Ahh, Chris," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry I'm a little late. My business took a bit longer than I expected." He tilted his head toward the door. "Shall we go?"

Chris nodded eagerly, smiling as Mark opened the door for him, following closely behind. There was a limo waiting and the chauffeur opened the door for them.

"I hope you don't mind taking my transportation. I can bring you back here later to pick up your car," Mark said solicitously.

"I don't have a car. I buddied up with Val and Edge here."
Mark smiled to himself, pleased. "Fine, then I seem to be your ride for the
night." Chris shrugged and grinned, revealing pretty dimples on either side of that delectable mouth. Mark had to steel himself from bending down and kissing those soft lips. Instead, he waved toward the interior of the limo. "After you, my friend." When they were settled in the plush seats across from each other, Mark spoke again. "I figured you wouldn't be up to dining out where there's a lot of people around. So, we'll eat at the hotel. Is that okay with you?"

Chris gave him a grateful look and nodded. "That sounds fine. Thanks."
They rode in relative silence, Chris looking out the window, Mark watching him impassively. Chris absently wiped his eyes and felt the wetness still on his lashes and surreptitiously wiped them on his jeans, his face growing hot with embarrassment at the remembrance of his wild crying jag. He could feel Mark's eyes on him and he glanced up to see he was right. Their eyes locked and Chris was unable to look away from those intent green orbs.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Chris started, averting his eyes out the window again, his lower lip trembling slightly. He shook his head curtly. "No. I don't."

"As you wish," Mark murmured softly, knowing that he would confide in him when the time was right.

When they reached the hotel, they exited the limo and walked into the lobby. Chris was surprised when Mark didn't turn in the direction of the hotel restaurant. "I thought we were eating here."

Mark's lips twitched in amusement at Chris's puzzlement, throwing an arm around the smaller man and steering him toward the elevator. "Like I said, I knew you wouldn't want to be around people right now, so we'll eat in my suite where it's quiet."

Chris swallowed, a sudden uneasiness gripping him. "You know, I-I'm not really that hungry."

Mark slanted a sardonic look at him. "Uh-huh. Well, I would beg to differ on your stomach's behalf, I heard it growling back there in the car."

Chris blushed sheepishly. "Oh, well, um..."

"Come on, Chris. Just some dinner and you can go get some sleep. How does that sound?"

Chris sighed and nodded, too weary to argue. They took the elevator up to the 11th floor and Mark guided Chris to a door marked 1143. When Chris stepped inside, he was astonished to see a small table for two, covered in a brilliantly white tablecloth and crystal and silverware settings. By the table was a food cart with lots of covered dishes. Also, there was a bucket of ice with an opened bottle of wine resting in it.

"What's all this?"

Mark came up behind Chris trailing his fingers over his shoulders until they hooked in the strap of his bag, sliding it down and taking it from him, where he walked over to a corner and dropped it, along with his own on the floor. "This is what took me so long back at the arena. I was calling and ordering all this stuff up here."

Chris turned and stared up at him silently, then moved to the table and sat down. Mark followed, pulling the cart toward the table and beginning to uncover the dishes.

"I hope you like steak. I wasn't sure what you felt like, so I just picked something out for you."

Chris looked at the food and felt his mouth watering. "Steak is great." Mark began dishing up the food, piling steak, spring vegetables and mashed potatoes and gravy on Chris's plate, then doing the same with his own. There was a glint of humor in his eyes as he watched Chris attack his food with relish, making sounds of pure enjoyment. He took the towel on the stand next to the ice bucket and withdrew the bottle, wrapping the cloth around it, but not before studying the label first. He nodded, satisfied at the choice and poured them both a glass of the ruby liquid. He then fell to his own meal, eating with almost the same single-mindedness as Chris. After a long while, Chris dropped his knife and fork, leaning back in his chair with a loud sigh, sipping his wine appreciatively. "That was fantastic! I don't think I can eat another bite."

Mark chuckled. "Does that mean you're not up for dessert?"

Chris pondered for a moment. "Weeelll...what is it?"
Mark reached down to the bottom shelf of the cart and Picked up two dishes filled with a delicious concoction in them. "How about chocolate mousse with whipped cream...and even a cherry on top."

Chris's eyes brightened as they fell on the dish that was placed in front of him, after Mark pushed aside his mostly cleaned plate. "Hmmmm...I believe I have room for just a bite or two.." That elicited a deep, rumbling laugh that sent a shiver of awareness down his back. "Well, I suppose I have to take advantage of every square meal I get. I rarely get one anymore, having to eat at KFC or Mickey D's."

Mark grimaced in mock-distaste. "I always make it a habit to get at least 3 days of square meals a week. All that grease and fat will kill you eventually."

"Yeah, well, if I could afford it, I'd eat like this all the time myself. But since I'm just starting out, I've got to watch my money until I hit the big time."

"Well, you're always welcome to join me for dinner anytime, Chris," Mark offered, spooning up some of the mousse and slipping it into his mouth.

Chris looked up from his own feasting, about to reply when he caught the spoon with the chocolate disappearing into Mark's mouth. The sight of his lips closing over the treat and the spoon coming back out clean made his stomach flutter oddly...especially when his tongue came out to lick his lips. He imitated his movements, wetting his lower lip absently before dragging his gaze away and up to meet Mark's languid, half-lidded, almost predatory ones. He flushed at being caught ogling Mark and quickly dropped his eyes to his dessert, not quite hungry anymore. He picked up his wine glass and drained it, surprised when Mark poured him another glass.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I believe I'm stuffed," Mark announced, rising to his feet in a lithe motion. "Care to join me on the sofa where we can be more comfortable?"

Chris chewed his lip for a moment before following him, carrying his glass and sipping from it. He settled down at one end of the couch while, amused at his tactic, purposefully sat in the middle, almost right next to him. He set the bottle, which he'd brought with him, on the coffee table before them.

"So, Chris, tell me...how did you decide you wanted to get into wrestling?"

Chris perked up, his eyes shining as he turned toward Mark, pleased to be talking about his first love. "Well, my dad's actually the one who first got me interested in wrestling..." He launched into his first humble beginnings as an amateur wrestler in Canada before being picked up by Stampede. He talked about all the great matches he'd had, how he moved from organization to organization...all the way to where he was now.
Mark noticed that he didn't talk as gaily about his time in WCW as he did about everywhere else he wrestled. He wondered why, but decided to back-burner that inquiry for a later time. He planned to know everything about this young man...know him inside and out. He smiled at his choice of phrase.

"So, what about you?" Chris asked hesitantly, not sure if Mark would be forthcoming or not. He seemed so reticent about himself. But he was surprised yet again when Mark quite amiably began to talk of his early beginnings.

"It was William Moody-Paul Bearer-that first brought me into wrestling when I was about 19 or 20..." He continued on, talking about his hardships and triumphs, dispensing advice and opinions on matches and moves. Chris was impressed with his wealth of knowledge about the business and his respect grew. He had insights into people's character that Chris was sure he didn't share with just anybody. But he did with him. He felt both flattered and honored that he thought of him well enough to do that.

"Wow!" Chris said with sincere admiration. "I guess all those hard times you had molded you into who you are today, huh?"

Mark's lips twitched a little, not quite curving into a smile. "I guess you can say that about everyone, Chris."

Chris felt that fluttery sensation in his abdomen and that quiver down his spine again at the intimate way he said his name. To cover his confusion and apprehension, he asked more questions and they fell into a companionable conversation ranging from books, to music, to just about anything that interested them. Mark refilled Chris's glass a couple more times, as well as his own, mostly listening to Chris, enjoying the sound of his enthusiastic voice, the way his eyes gleamed almost a cobalt blue, the way his mouth shaped what he was saying.

Mark shifted slightly, crossing an ankle over his knee to hide the growing bulge in his jeans. He'd wanted Chris for a long time...ever since their first meeting when he'd come to the federation. He'd gone out of his way to welcome the boy, introducing him to some of his friends. But he had realized almost immediately his desire for the kid and so mostly kept out of his way, not wanting any entanglements so soon after his nasty breakup with Hunter. Yet every time he'd seen Chris roaming the halls, chatting with wrestlers, working his matches, his lust for the boy grew, but he intended not to act on it. At least, that's what he'd planned until tonight when Bradshaw and Faarooq tried to rape him. Something inside him had snapped when he'd seen what they were doing to the helpless Chris. He'd never felt a rage so deep in his entire life-not even when he'd found Hunter screwing around with Chyna. He'd unleashed some of the powers he kept hidden most of the time, but couldn't control then, dulling Bradshaw's mind so he'd release the frightened-no petrified-young man. Faarooq had needed an extra nudge to leave him alone. The two men knew what powers he possessed, though not to what extent. He'd only given them a taste of what he could do. What he didn't reveal to most people was a lot of the dazzling pyro that was seen on television was not special effects but from his own abilities. Back when The Undertaker was portrayed as one who had special powers and could make lightning bolts shoot from his fingers, Mark was inwardly gratified that he was the only one who knew that he was responsible for those particular effects.
When he'd held Chris in his arms while he wept, something had happened to him. He felt his heart melt a little at the complete despair coming from him. He knew something had happened to him that had nothing to do with what those two goons back at the arena had done, though it had contributed greatly to his trauma. Someone had hurt him in his past, and Mark felt a sudden flare of fury at that nameless person.
He was snapped out of his internal musings when Chris set his empty glass down on the table and rose.
"Well, I believe I should get going. It's almost 1:30 in the morning."

Impulsively Mark stood, asking, "Hey, why don't you go ahead and stay here tonight."

Chris's eyes widened at the offer. "Um, well...I don't know..." He looked dubiously at the couch. I guess I could sleep on the sofa."

"Forget the couch. You've got to wrestle tomorrow and you don't want kinks in your back. I have enough room in my bed for both of us."

The thought of sleeping in the same bed as Mark both panicked and made his body grow warm. He wanted to refuse, but the idea of having to go all the way back downstairs to the clerk to retrieve his key (he never trusted himself not to lose it), then come back up to the 17th floor to his room made him weary to even contemplate. He nodded slowly, avoiding Mark's eyes, not wanting him to see the resigned look.

But he'd seen it and he had a notion why it was there. "Good. Let me show you to the bathroom where you can wash up. There's an extra toothbrush in there too."

"I just remembered...I don't have my pajamas."

Mark quirked a brow. "You don't need pajamas. Just sleep in your underwear."

Chris ducked his head to hide his red face. "Oh, yeah, sure." Mark showed him to the bathroom, which was right off the bedroom and he disappeared into it, leaning against the cool wood for a long time. When he thought he'd regained his composure, he washed up and brushed his teeth, leaving the bathroom almost hesitantly. He was relieved to see that Mark wasn't in the room and surmised from the sound of clinking dishes that he was putting them back on the cart for the maids to pick up later in the morning. He swiftly removed his clothes, but for his shorts and slipped between the crisp sheets. He pulled them up to his shoulders and closed his eyes, wanting Mark to think he was asleep when he returned to the bedroom.

Mark stood in the doorway watching Chris, thinking at first he had already fallen asleep, but when he'd turned to close the door, he caught a slight glitter of blue from beneath his long blond lashes. He chuckled inwardly at Chris's pretense. He went to a chair and yanked off his boots, setting them aside before rising and unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it in the chair. He then raised his arms above his head and stretched, letting out a low growl of pleasure.

Chris definitely felt a stirring between his legs at the sound of that growl...and the sight of Mark's tall, heavily muscled body flexing and rippling in a most disconcerting way. Mark went into the bathroom, and Chris heard the toilet flush and then the water running for a few minutes before he reappeared in the bedroom, striding gracefully to Chris's side of the bed and flicking off the light, moving back to his own side. He took off his watch, dropping it onto the nighttable. He then pulled the rubber band out that held back his shoulder-length dark auburn hair. He raked his fingers through it, massaging his scalp for a moment before unbuckling his belt and unfastening his snug jeans, peeling the denim from his hips and thighs.

Chris wasn't able to stop himself from letting out a little gasp of shock at the sheer masculinity before him. He was entranced at the sight of the tensing muscles of his thighs and the size of his shaft thrusting forth from even darker red curls. He only hoped to God that Mark hadn't heard him.

Mark had heard the gasp and was very pleased, but he pretended not to have and threw the pants on top of his other clothes. He got into bed reaching for the nightstand.

Chris was glad that Mark was about to turn out the light. He didn't think he could stand looking at that body this close up. He could feel the heat of him from where he was, the scent of his musky maleness making his pulses race. But instead of reaching for the lamp, he plucked a book off the top of the table and settled his back against the pillows, drawing up one knee and proceeded to read. Consternation filled Chris. Wasn't the man exhausted? Didn't he think that the light might bother him? Perhaps not, since he already believed him to be deep asleep.

An agonizing hour and a half passed in almost perfect silence, the only sounds being paper rustling and their breathing. Finally, after Chris thought he'd scream in frustration, Mark closed the book and put it back on the table. Ahhh, now he'll turn off the light and they both could get some sleep.

But no! Mark scooted down in the bed until his head rested on the pillows and put his hands behind his neck, his contemplative gaze fixed on the ceiling. They lay still like that for a while before Mark spoke.

"There's no point in pretending your asleep. I know your not."

Chris couldn't prevent himself from jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice, then his eyes snapped wide at his words. "How-how did you know?"

Mark turned his head, his amusement muted, but definitely there. "Just call me observant."

"Um, well, I was trying to sleep, but I guess the light bothered me a bit."

Mark's brow lifted in sardonic inquiry. "And why didn't you just tell me that? I would have turned it off."

Chris blushed and stammered, "I-I didn't think...I mean, I could see you were engrossed in your book and didn't want to disturb you so thought I'd just wait."

"Is that so?" Mark replied softly, his eyes returning to that predatory gleam he'd had at dinner. "And do you want to sleep now?"

Chris blinked at the odd question. "Well, yes. Don't you?"

Mark rolled onto his side facing him, trailing a finger from Chris's jaw to his chin. "I'm not particularly sleepy right now."

A streak of panic shot through him and he bolted upright. "I-I think I'd better go. I need to-"

Mark's hand snaked out and caught his arm before he could vault from the bed. "No," he said mildly, pulling him back down and into his embrace. "I think you need to just relax and quit being so jumpy. I'm not going to hurt you, Chris."

Chris lay stiffly in his arms, his heart racing in frantic fear. "Please...don't, Mark."

Mark's hold loosened just enough to lift Chris's chin. "Relax, honey. I told you I'm not going to hurt you."

Chris looked deep into his hooded, languid gaze and felt a little of his apprehension subside. "What is it that you want from me?" he asked tremulously.

Mark stroked his cheek softly, almost tenderly, tracing his cheekbones. I want to please you."

Chris's expression clouded. "Pl-please me? I don't understand."

Mark ran his forefinger over the plump lower lip. "Let me show you, hmmm?" he whispered, cupping his jaw, his thumb resting on the rapidly beating pulse at his throat. "I'll show you that it doesn't have to be painful."

Chris's eyes flared wide as realization dawned and his hands came up to brace against Mark's massive chest. "No! I don't want to-"

Mark lazily cut off his alarmed protests with his mouth, lightly brushing his lips over Chris's. He captured the bottom lip between his teeth, flicking the tip of his tongue over the surface, moistening it before releasing it and doing the same with the upper one.

Every thought in Chris's head promptly fled as he felt Mark's tongue sliding along the seam of his lips, silently seeking entry. Heat blossomed in his belly, slowly spreading outward until it settled in his lower abdomen. Without thinking, he parted his lips in invitation, which Mark didn't waste time in taking advantage of. Chris moaned as his tongue speared into his mouth, gliding over every slick contour, darting in and out in an erotic rhythm. Chris's fisted hands gradually splayed on Mark's chest, feeling the steady throb of his heart beneath the smooth, hot skin.

Mark raised his head slightly, his warm breath wafting over Chris's face. "Give me your tongue, Darlin'," he murmured in a deep rumble, his Texas accent more evident in his desire. Chris eagerly obeyed, sighing as Mark drew it into his mouth, raking the edges of his teeth over the sensitive surface before suckling on it firmly, eliciting another loud moan from him. Mark growled in return, his hands slowly exploring Chris's body, slipping them down the length of his leanly muscled back, moving around to skim the tips of his long, sensitive fingers up over his chest, circling them around his nipples until they pearled into hard buds. He gently pressed him onto his back, rising up onto one elbow, continuing to ravish Chris's mouth. He hovered over him as he caressed his way down over his abdomen, feeling it flutter and jump beneath his palm. He dragged his mouth away from Chris's, nibbling the tender skin under his chin, pleased to hear him sigh his name. He worked his way over the smooth, vulnerable throat, sucking on the pulsepoint in the hollow before sliding his tongue down his chest to spiral around a hard peak.

Chris gasped as Mark's lips closed around his nipple and began licking and nipping it. He arched his back in pleasure, his fingers entwining in Mark's abundant, silky hair, holding him close.

"Oh...oh, Mark!"

Mark rose and straddled Chris's legs, resuming his torture on the other nipple, sucking hard, making Chris catch his breath. "You like that, love?" he asked huskily, his green eyes nearly glowing with burning passion. Chris nodded and Mark gave a low laugh as he bent his head to scatter wet, nipping kisses down his torso, dipping his tongue into his navel and sinking his teeth lightly into the skin surrounding it. He paused in his oral assault to trace his fingers up the hardening length of Chris's shaft through the cotton, feeling it twitch in response.

"Does this feel good, baby?" he rasped, gently squeezing the root and was gratified to hear Chris groan and lift his hips, seeking more. "Tell me, Chrissy. Tell me how much you like what I'm doing."

"Ahh, God, mark!" he whimpered. "So good....ooooh, more."

Mark felt a surge of hot lust rise in him at Chris's plea, but tamped it down, knowing that the boy wouldn't be ready for him for a long while yet. He intended to drive him out of his mind with pleasure until he was begging for release...begging for him to give him release. He smiled at the flushed face, eyes tightly shut in delight. "You want more?" At Chris's nod, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down over his hips and thighs...all the way off until they lay on the floor in a heap. "I'll give you more, sweetheart," he promised, wrapping his big hand around his pulsing flesh, leaning his head down to curl his tongue around the base, drawing it slowly up to tickle the sensitive ridge below the head, paying loving attention to the silky tip, licking and applying light suction.

Chris cried out harshly, his hands tightening in Mark's hair. "Oh, Mark...Jesus Christ..."

"Mmmmm...you're so sweet. So hard and hot," Mark praised, lashing his tongue delicately up and down the length of his cock, rolling his balls between his fingers, pinching and squeezing them until Chris was gasping and mewling in torment. "Do you want me to suck you, Chrissy baby?" he asked in a sensual hiss, pressing damp kisses to his inner thighs.

Chris opened his eyes, staring dazedly down at Mark, moaning his name. "Please, Mark...yes. I want you to do that."

"You want me to do what?" Mark prompted softly, grinning wolfishly, his gray-green eyes glittering with both heat and amusement. "I want to hear you say it, love."

Chris licked his lips, watching Mark's hand absently stroke him, loose-fisted. "I..." he cleared his throat and tried again. "I want you to...to suck me."

Mark's smile broke into a dazzling grin that made Chris blink at the transformation from a very handsome man to a beautiful one. "Your want is my desire." He took his time easing Chris down his throat, lifting his head every inch or so to suck hard, then lowering again, letting his tongue lave the underside of his shaft. When he was fully sheathed, he began to bob up and down languorously, holding his hips down to prevent him from rushing him, reveling in Chris's gasps and choked groans of pleasure.

Chris was drowning. The sensations spiking through him were washing over him like a tidal wave and he panted for air, trying to keep his head above the turbulence. But as Mark's tempo quickened, his sucking strokes stronger, he felt himself being dragged down under the surface...yet at the same time, spiraling upward. He was unaware of urging him on with words and body, striving for the pinnacle where he knew there would be exquisite release.

Mark sensed his oncoming orgasm and slowed his pace, bringing him almost to the edge before rising completely off him and settling down beside him, pulling Chris on top of him, kissing him hungrily, ravenously. He groaned as Chris arched into him, his hands moving restlessly on his broad shoulders and massive chest.

"Mark...Mark..." he moaned breathlessly.

"What is it, honey," he said, his voice gravelly with need, yet fighting for control not to just take him roughly. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me...please."

Mark's body stilled in surprise. He'd thought he'd have to coax and tease him until he was mindless with lust. But it seemed as if Chris had decided to trust him, and the idea made his heart swell with a sudden powerful emotion he wasn't ready to name. "Chrissy...are you sure? I want to pleasure you, but if you're not ready-"

"No. I need you. Now!" Chris's plea was almost hysterical with passion. "I want you now."

Those simple words had the effect of undoing him as nothing else had before. He shuddered, sighing unsteadily. "I want you, too, baby. But I would like you to pleasure me first. Will you do that for me?" Chris's eyes sharpened into alertness at his words, but Mark was relieved not to see fear.

"You want me to...to suck you?" Chris questioned in a quiet tone, his blue eyes darkening until they were almost black.

Mark couldn't fathom the new look in Chris's eyes. It was almost...calculating. He warily answered, sliding his hands down Chris's spine in a loving caress. "If that's what you would like, yes."

Chris studied him inscrutably for a long moment before slowly nodding. "I want to please you, Mark." He began stroking his fingers over his chest, plucking and pinching his nipples until they shriveled into hard peaks. Chris's eyes never left Mark's face as his hands moved lower across his ribs and abdomen...until he came to the huge erection that seemed to jump into his palms. "You're so big, mark," he whispered lazily, relishing the flush of heat that crept up Mark's cheeks at his deft manipulations. "That feels good? Yes, I can see it does. And so will this..."

Mark drew in a sharp breath as Chris, in a swift move, bent his head and enclosed the throbbing cock in hot wetness. "Dear God!" Mark growled, grinding his teeth to keep himself from forcing Chris down harder on him.

Chris's clever tongue teased and cajoled Mark into cursing and writhing beneath his ministrations, demanding that he suck him faster and deeper...which Chris obliged only too willingly. "ohhhh, yeah, my sweet darlin'," Mark panted as he felt himself coming. "That's it...I'm almost there. Keep going...oooooh!"

Chris listened to Mark's praise and encouragement, waiting for the precise time to make his move. When it came, he rose up, scrambling to straddle Mark and guided him to his tightly puckered entry. He braced himself, knowing it would hurt like hell, but not caring. He wanted Mark inside him and he knew that Mark wanted this, too. He squeezed his eyes shut as he concentrated, steadily pushing downward until the head was encased in tight heat. He continued to press down, feeling mild discomfort, but otherwise, exquisite delight at the fullness.

Mark battled for composure, nearly losing it when Chris impaled himself the rest of the way on him in a sharp plunge. The Both of them cried out loudly, Mark bucking his hips involuntarily at the intense jolt of ecstasy that shot through him. He grabbed Chris's hips to forestall him from moving one iota. "For Christ's sake, don't move!" he rasped gustily. "It'll be the end of me." Chris's sweet smile made his pulses race.

"I want to end you, Mark," he said earnestly. "I want to feel you come into me. I want to hear you call my name as you explode."

Mark groaned, his hands reaching around to grasp his buttocks, lifting and slamming him back down, unable to stop himself from being rough. The need was too great for subtleties anymore. He was gratified to hear Chris cry out his name in feral desire. He rolled Chris onto his back, jerking his legs high up around him. He paused, however, to cup Chris's face and deliver a deep, searing kiss, hungrily sucking on his tongue. Chris returned it voraciously, hands impatiently running over his shoulders and neck. He tore his mouth away and planted soft, quick, butterfly kisses over Mark's face and throat.

"Mark, please...make love to me," he begged. "Make me forget about before. I want to forget. Please..."

Mark's breath stopped at the frantic desperation in his voice and he raised his head to look down at him. Tears were streaming from Chris's eyes, though Mark didn't think he knew it. He crooned to him, hugging him close and rocking him from side to side, trying to comfort him, but Chris was gone. He bucked and writhed beneath him, pleading for him to take him now. Mark groaned as his desire returned full force. He withdrew slowly and pushed back in, careful not to move too quickly so as not to hurt him. But apparently Chris was too far gone to feel anything but pleasure. He was nearly wild with it, sinking his nails into Mark's back and grinding his hips into him. Mark's eyes snapped shut as the intense sensation of snug heat surrounded him. He gave a strangled groan, pulling out and thrusting, increasing both the rhythm and force, hearing Chris whimper in enjoyment.

"Ahh, yes, Mark!" Chris sighed with a little hiccuping sound, his head tossing back and forth on the pillows. "That feels so good. Not like the others. More. I want more...pleeeeaaassse!"

Even in his desire-glazed state, Mark heard the nearly frenzied desperation in Chris's voice, filing away what he'd said to bring out later for examination. He reached down and gripped his buttocks, lifting and spreading them apart to drive deeper, gratified to feel Chris's legs tighten around him. One hand slithered around to stroke his cock, matching the tempo of his hips, which were now pounding hard and fast.

"Oh, baby..." Mark groaned, pumping Chris frantically. "Come for me now, sweet Chris. I'm about to explode...just what you want, right, love?"

Chris met Mark's thrusts with savage eagerness, panting harshly, almost sobbing with the fierceness of his emotions. "Yes...yes...inside me...now...coming...coming!" Chris abruptly screamed and arched violently upward into Mark, his whole body seizing into a rigid bow as his orgasm sizzled through him.

Mark's breath was knocked out of him from Chris's powerful release, clamping hard on him as he plunged deep, bellowing as he erupted in a molten hot rush which seemed to last for ten thousand lifetimes.

They both remained still for a long moment before suddenly collapsing back on the bed, convulsing and gasping. Chris clung to Mark, his face buried in the crook of his shoulder, his body shaking with a storm of weeping that shocked Mark.

"Oh, sweetheart," Mark said brokenly, thinking that he'd hurt him in some way, castigating himself for being as rough as a sailor on leave after 6 months at sea. He withdrew himself carefully, wrapping his huge arms gently around Chris, stroking his back helplessly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you pain. Please...forgive me."

Chris sniffled and raised his head to gaze up at Mark, his eyes shining like blue stars. "No, no, Mark. You didn't hurt me. I was crying because it was so good."

Mark looked at him uncertainly. "Do you mean that?"

Chris gave him his sweet smile and softly kissed the corner of Mark's mouth. "I mean it. I never thought it could be like that. Do...do you think we could do it again?" He said this last shyly, lowering his chin in embarrassment.

Mark grinned, pulling Chris to him and kissing him soundly. "Oh, I believe that can be arranged...later. I think you need some sleep now."

Chris nodded his head, snuggling against him, sighing in contentment as he slid
into a dreamless slumber. Mark continued to rub his back, contemplating his young lover until he, too, fell into an unrestful doze.



*****


Over the next few weeks, Mark tried his best not to fall for the blond, but he was very much afraid his heart was already lost. He lived for the feel of Chris's arms around him, that sweet, dimpled smile, the adoring way he looked at him. He found it quite difficult to keep his hands off the boy, often steeling him away into shadowed nooks and alcoves to ravish those ripe lips and fondle his lean body. He knew that Chris felt safe and secure with him, that he cared somewhat for him, but he wasn't quite certain of his feelings.

It was after a show in Bakersfield, California that Chris, Mark along with Mick Foley and Val Venis decided to go to a quiet bar and hang out and unwind. They talked amiably about the best and worst matches in their careers, storylines, moves and other shoptalk, sipping beers and vodka stingers. Mark couldn't keep his eyes off of Chris as he told a hilarious story about D-Low and Teri Runnels. They'd both been coming down a hallway in opposite directions, obviously not paying attention to where they were going and crashed into each other. They'd grabbed each other to keep their balance. It looked as if they won the battle when a door opened and Mark Henry charged out of the dressing room...right into the pair. D-Low was slammed into the far wall, the book he'd been reading on his way down the hall flying out of his hand to smack Mark right between the eyes. Mark's eyes crossed with the impact and he reeled back into the dressing room where the horrific sound of furniture being demolished was heard.

Meanwhile, the collision had thrown Teri completely off her feet with so much force that she went skidding down the hallway on her butt, finally fetching up against Steve Austin's dressing room door. Her glasses, which she never wore on camera, had been knocked askew, the hem of her skirt wrenched up to her thighs, revealing a glimpse of powder blue silk panties. She'd shaken her head to clear it, leaning back to rest against the door. At that very instant, the very same door opened and Austin was surprised to find Teri topple against him, the back of her head bumping his crotch...hard.

Mick and Val were nearly crying with laughter, pleading for Chris to stop before they pissed their pants. Mark, however, hadn't heard a word of the amusing story, only focused on Chris's mouth and the sound of his voice, wanting desperately to crush those tempting lips under his.

"Um, I think I need to hit the little boys' room," Mick said, grinning at his quaint phrase, sliding out of the booth.

"Yeah, and I think I'll get us some more drinks," Val added, following Mick, the two men exchanging knowing looks as they moved away from the table.

Chris took a sip of his beer, licking the foam from his upper lip. He turned his head toward Mark when he heard a muffled groan. "Something wrong, hon?"

Mark's nostrils flared as he strived to maintain his composure. "You don't know how much I want to kiss you right now."

Chris's lips curved up in a seductive smirk. "Really?" He scooted closer to Mark, slipping his hand under the table to squeeze his upper thigh. "How about you tell me, big man?"

Mark growled low in his throat as the back of Chris's hand brushed against the growing bulge in his pants. I'd be very careful about where your hand wanders, you little tease...unless you want me to flip you over this table and make you scream as I ravish you?" He raised a finely arched auburn brow.

Chris flushed, a quiver of delight running through him at the image. But he didn't remove his hand at Mark's warning. Indeed, he grew bolder, leaning toward him and nipping his lower lip, then sitting back, pleased to see Mark's eyes darting about the bar to see if anyone had noticed that little display before returning to his blond lover.

"Are you trying to get our asses kicked out of here...or just kicked?"

Chris laughed softly, jerking his head in the direction of the other side of the room. "Oh, don't worry, sweets. I doubt people really care who's kissing on who around here."

Mark looked in the direction of where Chris indicated and saw two young men entwined about each other, seeming to be performing tonsil massages on one another with their tongues. A light blush of red crept up his neck and he looked away, scowling at Chris's chortle of laughter.

"Why, Mark, I do believe you're embarrassed."
Mark took a long pull of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I am not. Why should I be? After all, we're in a relationship, aren't we?"

Chris snuggled against Mark's side, leaning his head into his shoulder. "Yes, but seeing other's like us bothers you."

Mark stared into his glass thoughtfully. "Not really. Just the public displays. What we do when we're alone is one thing, but out among people..." He shrugged.

Chris raised his head and looked at Mark solemnly. "Are you ashamed of what we're doing, Mark?"

Mark immediately turned to Chris and grasped his shoulders and gazed intensely into his wide, blue eyes. "Now, you listen to me, Chris Jericho," he pronounced in sharp, distinct syllables. "I am not, and have never been, ashamed of us."

"Than why do you care what other people think?"
Mark sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "It's not that I care what other people think. I have never been comfortable with public displays of affection," he explained quietly. He indicated the two lovers in the corner. "If that was a man and a woman, I'd still be bothered by it. I believe that sort of thing should be private."

Chris smiled gently at Mark, softly touching his cheek. "I think that's one of the things I love about you. You're conservativeness
in public and your wildness in private...especially your wildness." He added this last with a wicked grin.

Mark locked his darkening green eyes with Chris's, sorely tempted to break his code of restraint and pull him close and plunder those ripe lips.

"Ahh, here we go," Val announced in an unnecessarily loud voice as he set their refreshed drinks on the table. Just as he'd slid into the booth, Mick returned and they all continued to chat amicably for another hour before Mick called it a night, the rest following.

When Mark and Chris entered their hotel room, Chris began chattering about how much fun he'd had and reminiscing on the conversations, oblivious of how quiet the room was behind him. He squeaked in surprise when strong arms came around him from behind to squeeze him tight. But he relaxed immediately into the embrace, purring like a contented cat, raising his arms to lock behind Mark's neck. He tilted his head to the side to give him access to the tender curve of his throat, which he began to nibble avidly.

"Do you realize how delectable you are," Mark asked, deftly unbuttoning Chris's shirt, spreading it wide to explore the smooth skin beneath, rolling his nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Chris chuckled and wriggled against Mark, gratified to hear him growl and nip his shoulder.

"So are you, big man." He turned in his lover's arms, pulling his head down for a deep, lingering kiss. After a delicious moment, he tore away, dancing out of reach of Mark, whipping off his shirt, and tossing it in his direction as he swiveled his hips provocatively at him. Mark watched him with a gleam of amusement and appreciation, crossing his large arms over his chest.

"Marky, have you ever been..." Chris hesitated, kicking off his sneakers and slowly unfastening his jeans to peel them from his hips to puddle on the floor, leaving him standing in jockey briefs.

Mark's eyes darkened as they traveled over him lazily. "Have I ever been what, baby?"

The blond man slid his hands up the sides of his face, tunneling his fingers into his hair, lifting the mass to the top of his head before letting it tumble back around his shoulders, giving Mark a sidelong glance to see his reaction to his question. "You ever been dominated?"

Mark stared at him for a long moment blankly, then shook his head emphatically. "No. And I never intend to. I'm the dominator, not the dominated."

Chris sauntered back to him, walking his fingers up Mark's chest, flicking open the buttons of his silk shirt. "Oh, c'mon, Marky...haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to let someone else take control, to let yourself just respond without having to think about anything but what you're feeling?"

Mark shook his head again, placing his hands on Chris's shoulders and massaging the muscles gently. "I don't think I can do that, hon. I've been dom all my life and I don't want to change now."

Chris looked up at him thoughtfully, his cobalt blue eyes speculative. He then smiled brightly and wrapped himself around Mark. "Oh, okay. I just thought I'd ask."

Mark lifted Chris into the air, striding to the bedroom, kicking the door shut, dumping his lover into the middle of the soft bed, making him giggle and roll around like a kid. Mark smiled as he stripped off his clothes, stretching hugely before launching himself onto Chris, who squealed and wriggled beneath him. Mark proceeded to tickle him mercilessly, Chris shrieking with laughter, attempting to return the favor, quite by accident finding Mark's most ticklish spot at the sides of his ribs. He concentrated there until Mark was helpless with laughter on his back, Chris straddling his waist. He caught Mark's wrists and playfully pinned them to the pillows, leaning down to rub noses with his beautiful Mark.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to try being sub at least once?" Chris asked hopefully, sliding his slick tongue along the seam of his lips temptingly.

Mark grunted, opening his mouth to decline, but suddenly closed it again, pondering the question more seriously. "And just what did you have in mind, Chrissy?" His tone was neutral but he saw the glint of excitement in Chris's eyes.

"Nothing extreme, I promise," he assured him. "Just a little....um, sensual torment. Does that appeal to you?"

Mark took a long time to answer, staring up at the ceiling sightlessly before returning his gaze to Chris, who waited patiently. "Only on one condition."

"Name it, Chris whispered, his voice jumpy with anticipation.

"When I tell you I want to quit, you stop everything immediately, understand?"

He nodded his blond head vigorously, bouncing off him and the bed to rummage around in his suitcase, coming back with a handful of items.

"What's that?" Mark asked warily, eyeing his partner suspiciously.

"Oh, just a few things I brought along just in case." Chris gave him a hugely innocent grin, resuming his spot on Mark and plucking a couple of satin scarves from the small pile of things next to him. "Give me your hands, sweetie."
Mark's brows drew together as he visibly struggled to overcome his instinctual response to refuse, slowly offering his wrists to his love, watching carefully as he tied them together snugly, though not tight enough to cause discomfort. He then drew Mark's arms above his head to affix to the headrails, folded the other scarf and placed it over the redhead's eyes.

"Must you do that?" he complained, his body rigid with tension.

"Relax and trust me, Marky," Chris urged, pressing his lips to Mark's forehead and cheeks before picking up a small bottle of massage oil. "You're going to enjoy this."

The scent of peaches filled the air as Chris poured a liberal amount of oil into his hands and began spreading it over the taut muscles of Mark's chest and stomach. He worked it into the skin, loving the feel of his muscles rippling smoothly beneath his kneading fingers. He could feel Mark start to relax and he smiled, bending low to kiss the center of his chest, flicking his tongue out to taste the fruity oil and Mark's flesh.

Mark lay deathly still, waiting to see what Chris had in mind for him, licking his lips, unwilling to admit to himself that he was nervous about being bound and blindfolded. Several times he was on the verge of telling Chris to forget the whole thing, but he forced himself to remain quiet. He'd seen the eagerness in Chris's eyes and he wanted him to be happy, and he knew that Chris wanted to please him, so...

He had to confess that the massage and now the little tongue bath Chris was giving him was very nice. He rumbled his pleasure when Chris circled his nipple licking and teasing it into hard erectness. He did the same thing with the other, working his way down gradually, letting the oil sink into his skin, making it supple and silky. He moved to his hips and thighs, following his massage up with his lapping tongue, suddenly biting the inside of his thigh hard, Mark jerking in surprise.

"Just a little lovebite, baby," Chris said, his voice deep and husky, seductive. He eased up to nuzzle his balls, rubbing his nose against the shaved skin, circling them with his tongue, toying and teasing them until Mark shifted restlessly, murmuring his name.

Mark moaned as Chris danced his tongue around his shaft, barely touching the hard, throbbing flesh, dropping moist pecks over it. He tilted his hips, wanting more contact, but Chris moved away, not allowing him relief, flicking here, a light lashing there until Mark was growling for him to cease his playing and get to it.

"Oh, Mark....you're so impatient," Chris tsked, taking a lock of his hair and brushing it along the length, lashing it gently over the tip and below the head, seeing the blood rushing up to meet his ministrations..

"For God's sake," Mark groaned harshly, his body taut with strain. "Suck me, fuck me...do something! I want to come."

Chris chuckled again, blowing on the tip of Mark's cock, kissing the droplets of precome away before straightening. He sat back, gazing at the magnificent sight of Mark, spread-eagled, bound, blindfolded and splendidly aroused...and it was all his doing. He reached down and began to stroke himself, his eyes moving over Mark hungrily, moaning as he brought himself to a high flush of pleasure. He rubbed himself against Mark, enjoying him writhe in distress, cursing and demanding he either stop his teasing and finish him or untie him and let him take over.

"Uh-uh, big man," he said pinching one of his balls. "I'm not ready to let you go yet." He stretched to reach the nightstand and picked up the tube of lubricant, squeezing a liberal amount into his palm and slowly coated his cock, the slick strokes of his fingers sending prickles of heat through him. He took a little more lube and warming it between his fingers and thumb.

"What are you doing, Chris," Mark inquired in a gruff voice, his body on fire and his patience almost at the breaking point.

"Mark" Chris purred. "I'm going to fuck you now."
Mark sighed in relief, the thought of Chris sliding down on his shaft making his cock twitch in anticipation. He jumped in surprise when fingers slipped between his buttocks, exploring his anus, the slipperiness of cream making it easy for them to push inside.

"Chris...what the hell?"

"I'm going to fuck you, Mark," Chris repeated, adding another finger, probing deeply, finding Mark's g-spot and working it until Mark was jerking in his bonds, panting and grunting for Chris to stop.

Chris did stop...momentarily, withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself, guiding his shaft to Mark's entrance, easing into him slowly, sliding his hands around to grasp his ass, spreading the cheeks to glide more easily inside.

"Jesus Christ, Chris!" Mark cried in both shock and pain as Chris drove deeper. "What the fuck are you-stop right now."

"C'mon, Marky," Chris gritted, his eyes squeezed shut as the snug heat enveloped him. "I love it so much when you're in side me. I just want to return the favor." Chris sheathed himself fully and paused, waiting until he was completely adjusted, not wanting to hurt his lover any more than was humanly possible.

Mark sucked in air, his neck arched in an effort not to groan, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Relax, baby," Chris whispered, leaning over him to kiss the strong column of that curved neck, slowly withdrawing to push back in, moaning against the pulsepoint.

Mark caught his breath as the friction sent shockwaves of pleasure streaking up his spine. He involuntarily thrust his hips upward to meet Chris as he again delved deeply into him.

"Marky...mmmm...so hot and tight..."

Mark groaned as Chris pumped his cock in rhythm to his slow, steady plunges, grunting softly as he sank home over and over. "Chris," he husked, biting his lips as a particularly intense skitter of pleasure raced through him. "I'll make you pay for this."

Chris laughed seductively, kissing the corner of his mouth, his tempo quickening, the thrusts stronger. "Oh, you love it, baby," he taunted gently.

Mark opened his mouth to argue, but he ended up whimpering slightly as Chris angled his hips to drive against his prostate, his head rolling back and forth as delight warred with anger at being invaded. In the end, delight won out when Chris's pace picked up into a hard, pounding ride that had Mark growling for him to go deeper, to make him come.

Chris watched him carefully through his haze of pleasure, studying the beloved lines of his lover's face, relishing the look of passion etched there. He reached up and yanked off the blindfold, wanting to see when Mark came, wanting to see those beautiful green eyes spark and flame, then roll back as he exploded.

Mark gulped in air as his world began to splinter apart, dimly aware of the yell he emitted, his ears roaring with the sound of his blood suffusing his brain, the ecstasy so intense, he ripped the scarves from the headboard...along with the wooden slat. He felt Chris panting his name as his thrusts grew short and sharp, culminating in a deep lunge that sent him screaming over the edge. He collapsed atop him, unable to move or speak, breath escaping in whimpery gasps.

Mark patiently worked his hands free of the silken cloth and wrapped his strong arms about Chris, kissing his temple, cheek, ear, forehead.

"So..." Chris began after catching his breath. "What did you think?"

The big man sighed, raking his fingers through his damp hair. "I'm not quite sure what to think."

"You did like it, didn't you?" he asked, a bit anxiously. "I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

A rumble of reluctant laughter vibrated through the blond man. "No, not really." He paused for a long moment, lightly stroking Chris's back. "I have to admit that it felt good."

Chris lifted his head and looked down at his lover with a sparkle in his mellow blue eyes. "I told you you'd like it." He pinched Mark's cheek and got a slap to his ass as retaliation. He squealed and chortled as Mark rolled him over and thoroughly kissed him into submission.

"Yes, I liked it," Mark agreed, but added with a growl, "but I think we'll keep those experiences to a minimum. It's not my way."

Chris smiled blithely, brow quirking rakishly. "Mmmm...but baby, you're so good at it. All spread out for me, tied up and helpless. I believe I could get addicted to that."

Mark scowled menacingly. "Forget it. That's the last time we're doing anything like that for a very long time."

Chris wasn't phased by his disgruntlement, knowing he couldn't stay upset with him for long. "Oh, I think 'a very long time' could be a lot sooner than you think."

"Chrissy..." Mark said warningly.

Blue eyes stared up at him innocently. "What?"

"Let's change the subject."

The quelling look in Mark's green eyes told him that it was best not to tease him anymore. He slowly caressed his palms up Mark's chest, linking them around his neck, a slumberous expression on his countenance. "All right, Marky. Why don't we get a little nap. I think we'll have enough time to have another round before we have to catch the plane to New York."

Mark shook his head in mock-disbelief. "Don't you ever get enough? You're insatiable!"

Chris giggled, snuggling into Mark's warm embrace. "Not when it comes to you, honey," he replied, stifling a yawn, already half-asleep.

Mark grinned, pulling his head beneath his chin and cuddling him close as he sank into a light sleep.

They woke an hour later and made love again, slow and sensuously, laying beside each other exhaustedly afterward, thoroughly sated.

Mark was slowly sifting his fingers through Chris's hair, savoring the silky strands when he asked in a whisper,

"Want to tell me what they did to you in WCW?"

Chris, who'd been half-dozing, stiffened, his eyes flying open to look into Mark's calm, intent gaze.

"Wh-what makes you think anything happened?" he stammered nervously, giving a titter of laughter that woefully failed to hide his sudden fear.

Mark stared at him for a long moment. "Chris, you trust me, don't you?"

Chris avoided looking at Mark, studying his fingernails. "Of course I do, Marky."

"Then tell me what they did to you."

"I...I can't," he muttered, his cheeks growing chalky pale. "I just can't."

Mark lifted his chin to meet his eyes. "Chris, you can tell me anything." A pause. "I love you and nothing you say will alter that."

Chris's eyes widened in astonishment. "You...you love me?" His eyes filled with tears as he realized how long he'd yearned to hear those words. He felt a huge lump in his throat and he leaned forward and kissed Mark's chin. "I love you, too, Mark."

Mark felt his heart swell at Chris's words, but he forced his nearly overwhelming joy back. "Then, tell me, Chris. I'm here for you. No one is going to hurt you ever again. Talk to me."

Chris averted his eyes again, chewing on his lower lip in thought before giving a little sigh of resignation. "Okay." He sat up, crossing his legs, Indian-style, head hanging, hair obscuring his face as he began to speak in a low, monotonal voice.

"When I first arrived to WCW, it was great. The guys welcomed me, I was getting a good push and liking the matches. I'd made a few friends and thought I was going to really like being in the organization."

"What happened to change all that?" Mark asked softly, remaining where he was, sensing that Chris had to distance himself to bear talking about his trauma.

It was about 8 months in to my first year. The ratings were starting to slip, the storylines beginning to grow stale and there were lots of grumblings backstage from the mid-carders about being shoved out of the spotlight to cater to the established wrestlers. I had to admit that I was getting a little dissatisfied at the way my character was being handled. I mean, I liked the angles with Malenko and Guerrero and especially Saturn-" he flicked a glance at Mark and grinned.-"Never thought Saturn would take to a dress so easily."

Mark smiled back, nodding for Chris to go on. Chris returned his gaze to his hands in his lap.

"Well, then my character started losing and I went to the guys in charge to find out what was going on. The powers in charge of booking then was Kevin Sullivan, Nash and Hogan. They said that they weren't satisfied with my performance and that if I wanted a push, I'd have to earn it." Chris swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut as the hard part neared. I...I asked what I had to do to earn my push and...and they-" He stopped, choking back a sob that threatened to escape. "-they forced me to...service them."

Mark's rage burned deep inside him. Burned with an icy flame. "Those bastards!" he whispered in an almost neutral tone, but the underlying savagery was evident.

"After...after that, they promised to give me a US title shot. When I lost that, they said that they'd be persuaded to give me another one if I cooperated with them." Chris's voice had gone completely flat as he recalled the past events. "I wanted to say no, but they not only threatened to shove my career so far into oblivion that it would never see light again, they promised to hurt me so badly that wrestling would be the least of my worries.. I was scared and the friends I thought I had backstage suddenly treated me like the plague. I had no one to turn to. I couldn't get out of my contract and I had nowhere to go even if I could have. So, I...let them do what they wanted."

Mark laid a hand on Chris's back, the muscles rigid as stone to the touch. "You don't have to go on, love."

"No...it's okay. I want to tell you everything." Mark grunted in assent and he continued. "There was a party after one of the Pay Per Views and Hogan told me to be there, that there were some friends of his that he wanted me to be nice to. When I got there, there were about 4 guys there, all demanding for me to strip for them and Nash ordered me to do it...so I did..." Chris's voice became almost inaudible, his head dropping even lower as he remember the degrading things he was forced to do. "Then...then Hogan told his friends that they could fuck me if they wanted. I was barely able to stand after the party was over."" Chris was silent for a long while. "But I got my title shot and won the US belt. After that, other wrestlers started demanding favors from me, and I couldn't refuse because Sullivan said that if I did, he'd strip me of the title and make me a lowly jobber...and cut my pay in half."

Mark was disgusted at the story. How could another human being demoralize and abuse another like that? He wanted to rip Hogan, Nash and Sullivan's hearts out and feed it to them. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Chris and shushed him when he tried to protest. "That's enough, honey," he soothed. "I've heard quite enough."

Chris didn't relax in his arms. "Are you...angry with me? Do you hate me now?"

Mark leaned away to look into Chris's haunted blue eyes. "No, love," he said gently. "I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at those sons-of-bitches who did this to you. As for hating you..." He kissed his forehead tenderly, then his lips. "I told you I loved you and I meant it. Nothing you say or do is going to change that."

Chris gazed at him for a very long time before throwing himself against his lover and bursting into racking sobs, brokenly pleading with him never to leave him. Mark held his blond lover, rocking and crooning to him like a small child, swearing that he'd take care of him always.

As Mark soothed Chris, his mind was whirling with fury and vengeance. He would make the ones who'd hurt his Chrissy pay for their actions...pay very dearly indeed.


*****



Epilogue


The three men assembled in Mark's dressing room after the Smackdown taping three weeks later, puzzled as to why they'd been summoned.

"Hey, man, you got any idea why we're here?" said Visera to the other two men.
Big Boss Man shook his head and The Big Show shrugged.

All eyes turned to the door as it opened to admit Mark Callaway. They all straightened, unconsciously showing deference in their manner as the huge redhead moved to stand before them. Loom over them was more like it. He was easily the most intimidating man they'd ever met...other than Glenn Jacobs, that was. What everyone didn't realize was that although Glenn and Mark pretended to be brothers in front of the camera, behind the scenes, they were closer than that. Glenn was his kindred. The light to his dark. They both shared special powers that they kept hidden to the general public and used as little as possible. They'd known each other since childhood and had bonded during a very rough time in both their lives.

Mark looked into each man's eyes before speaking in his deep, almost hypnotic voice. "I know you're wondering why I asked you here." He began to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, speaking rapidly, but distinctly, laying out the facts and what he wanted done. Boss Man, Visera and Big Show stared at him in shock, but they quickly agreed to do his bidding. Boss Man and Big Show seemed particularly eager to fall in with Mark's plans, a gleam of grim anticipation in their eyes.

"So," Mark finished, halting to face them. "I don't care what you do or how you do it, just carry it out as thoroughly and swiftly as you can. There be a little bonus in your paycheck if this mission is successful. Understood?"

The three men nodded curtly. When they'd left, Mark gingerly lowered himself onto the sofa, wincing as he shifted to a more comfortable position. He couldn't understand why he'd let himself be wheedled into being dominated again last night. At the time, Chris had been really tantalizing him, teasing and seducing him until he was nearly begging for release. Chris had wanted to take him and by then, he would have acquiesced to nearly anything just to get relief. The session had been hot and rough, deliciously exciting at the time, but hell on the body later. He was still contemplating the interlude when there was a knock on the door.

"Enter."

Chris Jericho breezed in, shiny, blond hair bouncing as he rushed to Mark and planted a soft kiss on his lips, plopping down in his lap. "Hi, baby."

"Jesus Christ!" Mark moaned, gently, but firmly easing him onto the couch next to him. "Are you trying to kill me? Or just render me useless to you?"

Chris was instantly contrite. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."

Mark looked at his forlorn, apologetic expression and sighed, wrapping his arm around the smaller man. "You didn't hurt me really. I'm just a little...ehem...sore from our activities last night."

Chris's eyes sparkled mischievously, rubbing and kneading Mark's thigh, leaning against his chest. "I still haven't thanked you for letting me take control again."

Mark groaned inwardly at the feel of his lover's light, erotic touch on his leg and the puffs of warm breath against his neck. Even in his sad condition, he couldn't prevent himself from becoming intensely aroused by Chris's attentions.

They were interrupted when another rap on the door sounded.
""Come in." Chris called, snuggling closer to the big man.

"Um, Mr. Callaway?"
Mark's brows drew together in a slight frown as he saw Midion shifting from foot to foot in the doorway, obviously nervous.

"What is it, Mid?"
He stepped forward, holding out a manila envelope to Mark. "I believe you requested this?"

Mark's brow cleared as he took the envelope, opening it and glancing inside. He nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Thanks. Tell Shane I owe him one."

Midion nodded and left.

"What's that?" Chris inquired, rubbing his cheek against Mark's shoulder like a cat.

"Oh, nothing really. Just some contract amendments and boring stuff like that." He laid the envelope aside, turning to wrap his huge arms around his blond love, pressing a kiss to his temple and slowly stroking his back, which drew forth a sound much like a kitten's purr. "I think we have about half an hour before we have to head to the airport. Have any ideas on how we should occupy ourselves?"

Chris grinned wickedly. "Oh, I think I can come up with an idea or two."


*****


Big Show, Visera and Boss Man stealthily crept through the deserted hotel corridor, which they did with amazing grace. They all stopped in front of the door marked 317. Boss Man put his ear to the door, listening intently for a moment before shaking his head. They moved on, repeating their eavesdropping until they came to the last door on the left...room 329. Boss Man didn't need to put his ear close to hear all the noise of loud music and male cheers and laughter. They waited until they were sure it was the correct room before Boss Man and Visera moved out of the line of sight of the door while Big Show, formerly, the Giant, knocked. The door opened and Kevin Nash gaped at the massive figure in shock.

"Paul?" Kevin regain his wits and grinned in glee. "Paul, you son of a bitch! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Big Show gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes, noting that Hulk Hogan and Kevin Sullivan were inside the room drinking beers and watching porno on the TV. They had yet to become aware of him. "Just thought I'd drop in since the WWF is in town. Figured we could party some."

Nash grinned in welcome, opening the door wider to admit the huge man. "Well, that's just fine. Come on in."

"I brought along a couple friends of mine. One you already know."
Nash's eyes widened as Boss Man and Visera stepped into sight. He swallowed hard, but manage to maintain his good-natured grin. "Sure. The more the merrier."

The three sober men entered the stale cigarette smoke and alcohol cloaked room.
"Hey, guys," Nash called to his buddies." "Look who stopped in."

Hogan did a double-take as he took in Big Show and Boss Man, dismissing Visera with a glint of distaste. His gaze moved back to Show.

"Hey, Paul, man? What's up with you and Ray? What are you doing here?"

Show and Boss Man shrugged simultaneously, exchanging a furtive glance. "Not much, Hulk," Boss Man replied moving to sit on the couch next to Sullivan, who remained silent, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Yeah, just work and the road. Same as you guys," Show added settling his bulk beside Hogan. "Hey, I'd like you to meet a good friend of ours. Guys, this is Visera. Visera, this is Hogan and Nash, who I think you've already heard of." Show chuckled softly before continuing. "And this is Kevin Sullivan." Visera murmured a greeting, not offering his hand for a shake. "Vis, these guys are the power behind the players. They book all the matches and organize the scripts and dole out the pushes...mainly to themselves or whomever they decide deserves it, of course."

Hogan looked at Show in puzzlement at the note of contempt in his tone. "Uh, Paul, you OK, man? You don't sound too pleased."

"I think he's just a little pissed that he didn't get over as much as he wanted to in this organization, is all," Sullivan finally spoke, his voice dripping with disdain, extending it to encompass Boss Man, as well. "They couldn't get the job done right, so they're peeved at the results."

Boss Man turned his blazing eyes on Sullivan, his jaw clenched in anger. He was about to speak when a soft sound from Visera made him take a deep breath and look away from the now openly distrustful man.

"Um, guys," Nash interjected, attempting to calm the soaring tempers and egos down. "We were just hanging out drinking and watching some movies. You're welcome to join us, if you like."

"Sure," Show said, looking to his friends for confirmation. "That all right with you?"

Visera and Boss Man nodded. Visera went and sat on the bed, the chairs being too narrow for his hulking body.

"So, what's your poison, men?" Nash asked, striding to the bar. He took the orders and mixed up drinks, handing the glasses around. Everyone turned their eyes to the TV screen where three men were sucking and screwing the life out of each other. Every once in a while a little desultory conversation popped up, but quickly died as uneasiness grew in Hogan, Nash and Sullivan. They could sense something was wrong, but not what.

Boss Man rose to his feet and went to the bar. "You gentlemen want a refill? He didn't wait for their answer, but quickly mixed the drinks, surreptitiously squeezing a few drops of a clear liquid into three of the six glasses. He distributed the drinks and the three new arrivals watched the other three with grim anticipation.

About half an hour later, Hogan, Nash and Sullivan appeared a little sluggish, seeming to find anything and nothing suddenly amusing, giggling and chortling.

Show looked at his companions and nodded slightly before he exhaled his breath slowly to prepare himself for what he was about to do. He slipped an arm around Hogan and pulled him close. He didn't resist. Indeed, he squirmed until he was half-lying across Show's lap. Boss Man slid off the couch to his knees and crawled to Nash, who was sprawled inelegantly in the chair. He took the arm that was dangling over the side and began kissing it, working his way up the forearm to the bicep. This seemed to rouse Nash a little and he moaned as Boss Man nipped him in the fleshy part of his shoulder. Sullivan watched the two pairs, trying to decide which one to join in on. He settled on the one on the couch since it was closer. He studied Show and Hogan as they attempted to perform tonsillectomies on each other. He grabbed Hogan's legs and straightened them out on the sofa, kneeling between them and fumbling with his pants, cursing when he couldn't get the button unfastened. Finally, the button came free and he swiftly unzipped Hogan's jeans and wrenched them down, along with his boxers.

Visera quietly left the hotel room for a moment, returning with a leather satchel. He deftly set up the equipment, aiming the video camera at the tableau, making sure it was operational before going to Nash. Boss Man had managed to get Nash's shirt off and was diligently tonguing his nipples. Visera lowered his considerable bulk onto his knees and imitated Sullivan's actions by unzipping and pulling off his pants and underwear. For just a second, Visera, Boss Man and Show looked at each other and grinned, as if they were watching the execution of a particularly nasty criminal.


*****


Mark opened the package in his hotel suite, glancing over to Chris to make sure he was still in a deep sleep. Satisfied that he was, he slipped the video tape into the VCR and sat back to watch.

He was intently engrossed in the action on the screen when he heard a gasp behind him. Mark whipped around to see Chris looking at the TV in horrified fascination. He instantly flicked off the monitor. "Chris, honey, I-"

"What the hell was that, Mark?" he questioned, looking pale and shocked.

Mark sighed. He had hoped to present the tape to the boy after he'd previewed it first. "Well, as strange as it may sound, it's a present for you."
Chris gaped at him. "A-a present?"

Mark held out his hand to his lover. "Come over here, baby," he urged, relieved that Chris obeyed without thought. He pulled the stricken man into his lap, hugging him close and rocking him like a small child.
"Honey, listen to me," Mark began in a low, throbbing voice. "After you admitted to me what those bastards did to you in WCW, I felt it only my duty to punish them for putting you through that."

"But, Marky-"

"Shhh, for a minute, okay?" he suggested, tenderly brushing the tousled hair from Chris's forehead. "Just hear me out before you say anything, hmm?" When Chris reluctantly nodded, Mark continued. "As I said, I felt I had to gain revenge for you for what they did. So, I asked Show, Vis and Boss Man to help me out."

Chris swallowed with difficulty as he recalled just what those three had been doing on that tape. "They...they did that for me?"

Mark smiled slightly. "Yes, hon. Vis and Show also didn't like those three scumbags, so they felt it was an opportunity to gain some vengeance themselves for past misdeeds."

"You mean they...H-Hogan-" Chris was having a hard time even speaking his name without wanting to gag-"Sullivan and Nash did those degrading things to them, too? And those-those perverts-" Chris jerked his head toward the TV- "allowed them to...to do those things to them?"

Mark gave a solemn nod to the first question, then gave a grim, sardonic smile. "yes...with a little help from this drug I acquired that diminishes a person's inhibitions."

"So, now what?"

"Well, I believe that the three gentlemen in question are about now, opening up their mail and finding a copy of this tape."

"What good is this going to do? They'll just dismiss it and go on victimizing other young wrestlers."

Mark hated to hear the cynical, bitter tone in his love's voice. "Oh, but you see, There's a little note with the tapes that says that if it is ever discovered that they take advantage of any wrestler, this tape will be sent to every computer screen, every TV screen and splash over every newspaper in the country and overseas."

"But what if they ignore it?"

"Oh, they won't ignore this one. You caught some of what was on the tape. Do you realize what it would do to them, not only their careers, but their personal lives, if they were exposed for the perverted slugs they really are?"

"But how are you going to know when they ...do that again?" Chris asked tremulously.

"Oh, I'll know," he intoned gravely, sending a shiver of foreboding down Chris's spine. "I have my sources." Chris decided he didn't want to know what his 'sources' were.

Mark rose and walked to the bed, laying Chris in the middle and easing in beside him, pulling him into his arms tightly. "You don't have to worry any more, love," Mark whispered fiercely. "They'll never hurt you or anyone else again. Trust me."

Chris nuzzled his face into Mark's chest and sighed deeply, feeling as if a terrible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt free for the first time since before entering the WCW. "I do trust you Mark. I love you."

The simple pledge melted Mark's heart as nothing else could. His embrace tightened. "I....I love you, too, Chrissy. Always."

"Chris raised his head to look into Mark's mellow green eyes, suspiciously bright, he touched the tip of one finger to the corner of his lover's mouth. "Thank you, Marky. No one's ever done anything like what you did for me."

Mark smiled crookedly. Well, just don't think that I'm going to be wrapped around your little finger now, huh?"

Chris chuckled, a sly expression entering his glowing blue eyes. "I'm afraid it's too late. I've already got you around my finger, Green Eyes."

"Oh, have you, now?" he replied, throwing a leg over the blond man's, drawing his lower body into close contact with his. Chris squirmed, more to entice Mark than to get away.

"Oh, Marky," Chris murmured, his fingers stroking the big man's ribs. "I give. You win. There's just no way to manipulate you."

Mark gazed at Chris for a very long time, a glint of self-mockery in his amused eyes. "You're a little tease and a minx, you know?"

Chris laughed, slipping his hands around to massage the rippling muscles of his sweet love's back. "You keep telling me."

They kissed long and passionately, content to be close to each other, bathing in one another's warmth and love.


*****


"What the fuck are we gonna do?"

Nash threw a contemptuous glance at Hogan, ignoring Sullivan, who was slumped in a chair, head in hands.

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Well, you were the bastard who had the bright idea to invite them into our room," Sullivan spat, not lifting his head. "So, you should be the one to figure out how to get us out of this mess."

"And just what, Mr. Smartass, do you suggest?" Nash snapped back, pacing not slowing for a moment. "You read the note, saw the video. They've got us by the balls!"

"I'd love to rip that big goof's heart out and feed it to him," Hogan growled, downing yet another can of beer and tossing the can against the wall where it landed in a growing pile. He pressed the rewind button on the VCR and started the incriminating tape over again for the hundredth time, his anger building with each replay.

"There had to be someone else pulling the strings," said Nash, refusing to even glance at the screen, not wanting to see the nauseating spectacle of Visera blowing him while Boss Man encouraged Nash to do the same to him. What was happening on the sofa with Show, Hogan and Sullivan was equally, if not more sickening as Show screwed Hogan into the cushions while Hogan was sucking Sullivan off. "Those goons aren't smart enough to come up with this plan on their own. They're going to pay, whoever's behind this."

"In the meantime, we have to lay low for a while until we do find out who it is," Sullivan said, finally raising his head, revealing a haggard, swollen, bloodshot eyed face. "We can't chance anyone seeing this tape. We'd really be royally screwed then."

Nash and Hogan assented resignedly and they left to drive to the next arena.


*****


Two Months Later, Kevin Sullivan was fired when he was caught trying to force himself on a newcomer in the locker room showers. Hogan left the organization on hiatus and Nash was no longer pulling double-duty as a wrestler and booker. It seemed as if the three wouldn't have their chance to avenge themselves after all...or would they?
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