PLAYING WITH FIRE

RAW IS WAR, JUNE 4TH, 2001

"So yeah, it's pretty weird having a suite again," Angel went on, swinging Jericho's hand. "You know...I just hung out, imagining him yelling at me that I was taking too long to get ready."

"You didn't lie in his bed, did you?" Jericho cut in with a skeptical frown.

"Not his bed, my bed. He hasn't set foot in there yet and until he does, the whole place is mine…" She trailed off as her mood darkened.

Jericho released her hand and put an arm around her instead. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I don't know," Angel sighed. "I mean, I haven't seen him since you and me talked it through. Maybe I'll take one look at him and everything'll be back to normal. I mean, is that so much to wish for?"

"Sometimes wishes come true," Jericho told her.

"Hi Chris, hi Angel."

"Hey junior," Jericho greeted Jeff as Angel gave him a smile.

"Angel," Jeff started. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," Angel nodded as Jericho dropped his arm from around her.

"I'll meet you at the locker room, Rogue."

"No, it's okay," Jeff told him. "This'll just take a second."

"Okay," Jericho shrugged, stunned by Jeff's sudden about-face.

"What's up, Jeff?" Angel asked.

"Well, you remember how yesterday I told you that there are plenty of people who want to help make your life easier? And I know that you like your independence; that's one of the things I dig about you. So today, me, Matt and Lita went to Mall of America and I got you something that's gonna let you do both." He dug into his picket and pulled something out. "Here. It's a Swiss army knife. I got it at one of those outdoor stores."

Angel took it from him and examined all the components as Jeff told her about them.

"It's got a blade, and a bottle opener, can opener, screwdriver, compass, corkscrew, a little pick kinda thing…some other stuff. So yeah, if that doesn't make your life easier…" He broke into a small smile as he waited for Angel's response. Twice he'd tried to buy her stuff and she'd screamed at him. Would this be third time lucky?

Finally, she raised her head and he let out a huge sigh of relief, noticing she didn't look mad.

"Thanks, Jeff. This is really nice of you."

"Hey," he shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "Just letting you know I care. I'll see you guys around."

"Jeff?" Angel called after him. "You've got your King of the Ring qualifier tonight right?"

"Yeah, it's against Matt. It wasn't supposed to be, but Eddie hurt his knee so they changed it."

"Oh," Angel nodded. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks, Angel." He gave her one last smile, then walked off.

Jericho grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close so he could whisper in her ear. "I think someone likes you."

"Shut up," Angel muttered, shoving the knife into her pocket. "He knows I hate it when he buys me stuff. It always makes me uncomfortable, like he shouldn't be doing it, because…I don’t know."

"But you let him this time," Jericho frowned.

"Yup," Angel sighed. "That's what upsets me. It's like I felt if he wants to buy me stuff, he can buy me stuff. That's his problem, you know? And that scares me, 'cause I know what that means."

"What's that?"

"I'm over him. Completely, one hundred percent over him. You know…" By now they'd reached the locker room and Angel sat heavily on the bench as Jericho perched next to her. "The first time he kissed me - Jeff, I mean, it was magic. Absolute magic. And it was so…I don't know, perfect because we were such good friends, it was almost as though it had always been there, just waiting to happen. And I know we weren't together long, but even after he dumped me, I guess it was always at the back of my mind that someday…someday we'd forgive each other and we'd be together again. Well, yesterday, when we talked, we really did. We forgave each other, but do you know what happened then?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Because the only thing on my mind was Benoit. I think that if he'd tried to kiss me, I probably would have closed my eyes and pretended…oh God, I am one sick bitch."

Jericho wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her slightly onto his lap. "No, you're not. We've just gotta get you hooked up."

Angel gave a deep sigh. "I don't know that that's such a good idea anymore. I'd probably end up screaming his name."

"Ohh, no!" Jericho cringed. "See, baby, that's the real reason I didn't do you the other night. It wasn't 'cause you were drunk. I just couldn't handle you calling me Benoit." He shuddered.

Angel broke into a little grin. "It wouldn't be a problem with you, would it? I mean, you have the same name." She gripped his shoulders tightly. "Oh, Chris! Yes, Chris! More, Chris!"

"Watch out, baby. Them's fighting words."

But Angel was really getting into it. "Oh Chris! Chris! Chriiiiiiis!"

Jericho looked up as the door slammed closed. "Hey jerky."

Benoit glowered down at the two of them. "Bitch," he said evenly.

Angel jumped to her feet, her eyes gleaming wickedly. "You called?"

Benoit's eyes darkened. "Who's my opponent?"

"No one. I haven't been."

"Then go!" he snapped. "Now!"

Angel sighed and headed for the door. She stopped just as her hand touched the handle. "Hey jackass? Who do you want?"

"Austin," Benoit replied confidently.

Angel's eyebrows shot up. Austin? Again? "They're not gonna give you Austin three times in a row."

"I want Austin," Benoit growled.

Angel shook her head at him. "And I want you…to give me a million dollars, but that's not gonna happen either, is it?" She stared desperately over at Jericho, but he just shrugged.

Benoit's dark blue eyes and furious expression were demanding her full attention. "Get me Austin."

Angel was unmoved. "Don't you think someone else deserves a turn? Like Jericho?"

"Excuse me?" Benoit yelled.

"I'm serious," Angel frowned, trying to ignore the fact that having him so close was seriously affecting her entire body. "Jericho's just as good as you are. You had two attempts, but you lost. It's time to step back and give someone else a turn."

"You listen to me, slut," Benoit scowled. "I don't pay you to represent Jericho. I pay you to represent me. So, when I tell you to do something, you damn well do it. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Angel muttered. If she lunged forward just a little bit, her lips would be on his. And maybe then he'd kiss her like he had before. It had happened a week and a half ago, but it was still so fresh in her memory. The heat of his mouth, the skill of his tongue, the pressure of his body against hers.

"Good," he replied darkly. "Now, get me Austin."

"No." Angel could hardly believe she'd said it, but she had and Benoit was livid.

"What? What did you just say?"

"I said no. It's not your turn."

"That's not your decision to make," Benoit scowled, suddenly grabbing a handful of her shirt and pulling her close to his face. "I give orders, you follow them. Do you understand?"

Angel nodded breathlessly, her heart racing at a million beats per second. "But Jericho deserves it more than you."

Bam! Angel's back hit the door and he was right there, pressing his forehead against hers, glaring into her eyes.

"Never forget who you are, slut. Never forget where you came from. If it wasn't for me you'd be out on your ass. I made you. If it wasn't for me you'd be nothing. You are nothing! Never forget who you are." He released her with a violent shove. "Now, go get me my match."

Angel paused to catch her breath, trying desperately to ignore the bolts of lust that were shooting right through her.

"No."

"What?" Benoit screamed, turning around and rushing her. But before he got a shot in, Jericho grabbed him and dragged him away. Again.

"Not a good idea, junior."

Benoit glowered at him. "She's my manager. I own her. She does what I say."

"Well, she might be right," Jericho told him. "Look, Chris, we both know you got screwed last week, but do you really think they’re gonna give you another rematch? Especially after you gave Vinnie Mac the chair spanking of a lifetime."

But Benoit didn't back down. "Her job is to get me what I want. I want Austin."

Jericho held his gaze. "If you send her out there, you'll be wasting both your time, 'cause it's not gonna happen."

"Her time means nothing to me." He turned to glare at Angel. "Get me Austin, slut."

"No."

"Now!"

"No!"

"You goddamn little whore!" Benoit screamed as Jericho grabbed him again.

"Easy, junior."

Benoit scowled but tried to calm down a little.

"Fine," he said at last. "I don't care. You don’t get me my match, that's the end. Our deal is over."

Angel's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"You don't manage me, I won't coach you."

Angel blinked her disbelief. "You're letting me go?"

Benoit slowly broke into his smirk. "No, princes, I'm not letting you go. I still own you. You're still my valet. You're still my slave. You still do whatever I tell you to do. You just don't have to make my matches anymore. And I don't have to waste my time treating you like you're a wrestler. You can find yourself another coach."

Angel formed a little smile. "Hey, Jerky. Wanna train with me from now on?"

"I already said I would," he replied.

"Well, that was tough," Angel grinned at Benoit.

"Get the hell out of here!" Benoit screamed suddenly. She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off. "You do what I say and I'm telling you to get the hell out. Go find Regal and get Jericho his goddamn title match. Go!"

Angel shrugged coolly. "Jerky, you wanna come help me convince Regal to book you?"

Jericho nodded, a sinister look in his eyes. "You bet, baby."

And then they were gone.

Benoit let out a roar, grabbed a chair and slammed it into the wall.

"Goddamn little slut!"

It was only when he tried to pull the chair away that he noticed the hole in the wall.

* * * *

Angel was in a great mood. "Do you have any idea how much it turns me on when I get him all pissed off like that?"

"I know," Jericho sighed. "But you really should go easy. If he snaps and I'm not there…well, I've been on the receiving end of that. You'll be lucky to walk away."

"Yeah," Angel acknowledged him. "But I can’t help it. He gets that look in his eyes and I just…oh God, I need help."

Jericho reached out and patted her on the back. "It'll be okay. I think you're only fantasizing about him because he hasn't been around. Once you get a memory check on how much you hate living with him, you'll be the same old Rogue."

"Well, I sure as hell hope so," Angel sighed, pushing open the door to Regal's office. "Hi commissioner assclown. How goes it?"

Regal seemed stunned. "You!" he cried. "And you!" he added, noticing Jericho.

"Hello, jackass," Jericho sneered. "Did you miss me?"

"Like a bloody hole in the head," Regal muttered. "What do you want?"

But Angel had spotted Tajiri. "Oh, cool! You got a pet."

"Miss Torres! What the bloody hell do you want?"

"Watch how you speak to her," Jericho warned him.

Angel had approached Tajiri and was holding out her hand. "Hi, my name's Angel."

"Angel," he replied, bowing. "Tajiri. Tajiri."

"Right on," Angel grinned, mimicking his bow.

"Miss Torres!"

Angel spun to Regal. "Oh yeah. Jerky wants a title shot."

"Jerky?" Regal repeated incredulously.

"That's Y2J to you," Jericho scowled.

"A title shot?" Regal frowned. "Impossible. Kane is already facing Christian."

"Not IC," Angel told him. "Heavyweight."

"Heavyweight? Against Stone Cold Steve Austin?"

"Oh, you know him then?" Angel smirked.

"I can’t do that," Regal snapped.

"And why not?" Angel demeaned as Jericho held back, deciding to let his feisty little friend deal with it.

"Because I don't have that kind of power."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Willie," Angel grinned. "You're the commissioner man."

"I know that," Regal scowled. "But I can no longer book heavyweight title matches. Those only come from Mr. McMahon himself."

"Oh, so Stone Cold Slut Austin's running scared, eh?" Jericho sneered.

"Austin's not afraid of anyone!" Regal argued. "Especially not a greasy little toe rag like you."

Jericho grinned. "I just love it when you talk dirty."

"Let me get this straight," Angel piped up. "If Jericho's gonna get a title match like he deserves, we have to go kiss Vince's ass?"

Regal nodded. "But I don't like your chances. Austin is in no condition to compete after taking ten German suplexes on SmackDown from that heathen Chris Benoit."

"My heart bleeds for him," Angel muttered. "Come on, Jerky. Let's go get your match."

"Beat you later, jackass," Jericho grinned at Regal as they left the room.

* * * *

It was an interesting turn of events. When they met Vince with their request he gave the same excuse as Regal - that Stone Cold had injured his neck and wouldn't be able to compete. Angel and Jericho argued and argued but Vince wouldn't hear of it. They returned disappointed to the locker room, which only caused Benoit to gloat, though why Angel couldn't figure out, since he didn't have a match either. All that was about to change with the start of Raw and the appearance of Mick Foley and Minnesota's governor and former wrestler, Jesse Ventura. By the end of their discussion with Vince, Jericho had his title shot and Benoit had a match…against the Big Show.

That was how Angel found herself at the ring, watching Benoit getting the crap beaten out of him by the 500 pound giant. She'd offered to bandage his bruised ribs, but he'd refused, saying they were all but healed.

'Liar,' Angel thought as Show shoved him into the turnbuckle and slammed into his abdomen.

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel cried as Show whipped him between the corners and continued ramming his abdomen. The air was electric, jolting her skin with its charge. Benoit's powerful shoulders were heaving as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. "Come on, fire up, Benoit! Fire up!"

He stared down at her for a moment while Show riled up the crowd. He was clutching the ropes, his shoulders heaved, his eyes and hair were wild, his mouth hung open. To Angel, he'd never looked sexier.

She pounded the apron with her hand. "Come on, Benoit. Come on!"

Just then, Show picked up Benoit as if he was a doll and grabbed him in a bear hug, squeezing him tightly, pressurizing his ribs. Benoit screamed and so did Angel.

"Let him go, Show! Put him down! Come on, Benoit!" She was hysterical and pounding the mat with all her might. "Come on, Benoit!"

Benoit let out a roar and went crazy, headbutting Show over and over until he was finally released.

"Oh my God," Angel gasped. "He bit him. Benoit bit him." No longer conscious of her own body, she grabbed the ropes and dragged herself up just as Show grounded Benoit with a boot. "Come on, Benoit!"

Show looked around and spotted her. Before she could do anything, he was over there, grabbing her head in his huge hand and flipping her over the ropes, into the ring.

"Ow!" she cried as her back hit the deck.

Show left her lying there, concentrating on his match again. He lifted Benoit into the air and dropped him over his head, right onto Angel.

"Argh!" she screamed, before realizing who it was. She panicked, trying desperately to free herself as he breathed into her ear, too preoccupied by his own pain to even really notice her.

"Get off me!" Angel yelped. "Get off me!"

Finally, her feet hit the ground and she let out a huge sigh of relief. She paced the outside of the ring, ignoring the action, trying to control her body - her heart rate, her breathing, the temperature and sensation of her skin, the pangs of desire engulfing her.

"I've gotta get out," she muttered. "I've gotta get out."

In the ring just now, it had been the last straw. He'd just looked, smelled and felt so incredible she'd practically ripped off his tights and devoured him right there.

"I've gotta get out."

Steve Blackman. Steve Blackman could save her. But when? Oh shit. She'd been supposed to set that up for SmackDown but she'd been so busy playing powergames, first with Benoit and then with Regal, she'd forgotten all about it. Now it was too late. Now it would have to wait until Thursday. She'd arrange it for Raw, just like Blackman wanted. Another whole week with Benoit. Shit.

"Elbow!" she screamed as Big Show flew from the turnbuckle. Benoit rolled out just in time. Funny, Angel was so used to doing that now - flagging the high-risk move so Benoit or Jericho could escape it, she could even do it without thinking. Benoit was crouched on his hands and knees, trying to pull himself up.

"Oh, for God's sake," Angel muttered, pacing again.

Benoit hit a dropkick off the ropes, then stumbled around wearily.

"Bitch," he growled. "Where's the bitch?"

Finally, he spotted her and crossed his arms, then spread them apart furiously. Headbutt time.

Angel found herself nodding. He'd signaled. This one was gonna land. Boom! Hit it did, but just as he slammed down, Show caught him by the neck and lifted him into the air.

"No!" Angel screamed, leaping up onto the apron again. "Come on, Benoit!"

Show lifted him up for the chokeslam, but Benoit reversed it and dragged Show down, right into the crossface.

"Yes!" Angel cried, bouncing on the apron. "Yes! Make him tap, Benoit! Make him squeal!"

Show almost rolled out, but Benoit hit him with an elbow and locked on again. Show shouted and shouted and tapped.

"Yes!" Angel cried, leaping into the ring. "Take that, you big piece of shit! Take that!" She slammed her boot into Show's abdomen as Benoit continued to hold in the crossface.

"Let him go, Benoit, let him go!" the ref was shouting.

The second Benoit did as he was told, Angel pounced on the Big Show. First she grabbed his legs and bent them the right way, hooking his ankles together to trap them. Then she stepped between them, standing right on the base of his spine. Finally, she grabbed his wrists, locked her grip on them and leaned back as far as he could. Show was screaming and trying to struggle free, but Angel had him trapped. He screamed and screamed.

"Slut! Get your ass down here!"

"Just a minute," Angel called through clenched teeth. "I'm just trying something."

"Now!"

Benoit's shout startled her and she released Show - just enough. Before she knew it, she flew across the ring and the back of her head bounced sickeningly off the canvas. Then Show had her by the neck. He lifted her off her feet, high in the air. Bam! Chokeslam. Angel lay still on the ground. She was stunned. She couldn't stand - couldn't breathe.

'Oh God,' she thought urgently. 'My neck's broken! I'm paralyzed. I can't move. Can't breathe.'

"I own you!" Show screamed, reaching down again.

'No!' thought Angel as air finally rushed into her lungs. 'Please, no more.'

But there was a rip and her shirt was gone.

'He's trying to humiliate me,' Angel thought. 'He's trying to…"

"Have you had enough?" Big Show boomed. "Or do the pants need to come off too?"

Boom! A chair ripped across Show's back, forcing him to one knee. Boom! Boom! Boom! He writhed in agony as Benoit hit him. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

"Don't touch her!" Benoit screamed as he continued the assault. "The bitch belongs to me! Do you hear me? She's mine!"

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Benoit brought the chair down on Show, over and over and over again. The chair was broken, but he didn't care. Boom! Boom! Boom! Finally, a group of refs arrived and dragged him away. He gave Show one last glare, then jumped from the ring before grabbing Angel by the leg and dragging her down next to him. He put her over his shoulder and started up the ramp.

Angel was just regaining her mobility and her senses. Benoit had her. His arm was around her waist. Her bare skin was touching his. She'd lost her shirt, lost her shirt. She could feel him, hot and sweaty, his face just behind her head. She could hear him breathing, feel him, smell him.

"Put me down!" she shrieked. "Put me down!"

"Shut up!"

"Put me down!"

"Shut up, slut!"

But her desperation had sent the adrenaline coursing though her body and she struggled like a trapped wildcat, finally landing on her feet. They were face to face.

Benoit looked right trough her with his intense blue eyes. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

"A submission hold. I was just trying…"

"You were just stupid, that's what you were. You didn't have his legs trapped right for that kind of hold. You needed them under your arms. Don't you know anything?"

Angel scowled. "I needed to do it that way. My arms aren't strong enough…"

"Then try another hold, you stupid little whore. I hear leg grapevines aren't too hard for girls. Your cousin can do 'em."

Angel just fumed and walked away.

"Turn around! Don't you dare turn your back on me!"

But Angel ignored him and kept on walking.

"I told you to turn around!" He grabbed at her left arm. Angel immediately spun around and slapped him across the face.

"And I told you not to touch me."

Benoit's eyes flashed and he ran at her, but Angel ducked and raised her arm for the back body drop. Benoit tumbled over her, but grabbed her legs, bringing her down into a sunset flip. Angel tried to struggle free, but he was too strong. And then he was trying to roll her onto her stomach for the crossface.

"No, Benoit, no! Let her go!"

Benoit scowled. Jericho. He shoved Angel down and jumped furiously to his feet. Why the hell did it have to be Jericho?

"Are you okay, baby?" Jericho asked, helping Angel to her feet.

She clung to him tightly. "Yeah. He didn't hurt me." She actually sounded reluctant. She really was sick.

"So long as you're okay," Jericho told her.

Benoit scowled and stormed on ahead into the locker room.

"You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep on playing with fire," Jericho warned.

Angel just shrugged. "I told him to get his hands off me. If he won't do it, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

Jericho sighed. It was hard for Rogue, it really was. But he firmly believed that things had a habit of working out. She just had to want them to.

"I'm not happy," she was saying as they entered the locker room. "That big fat piece of shit ripped my shirt right off me. The one you got me. The 'Shooter' one."

That sucks, baby," Jericho said sympathetically. "But don't worry about it. I'll get them to make you another one. You'll have it by Thursday."

Angel grinned and threw her arms around him. "Thanks, Jerky. You’re the greatest."

Benoit had finally collected all his stuff together.

"Bitch," he scowled. "We're leaving."

Angel stopped short. "Maybe you are."

Benoit glowered at her, eyes dark and furious. "I said we're leaving."

"No," Angel protested. "Jericho has a title match and I'm gonna be his valet."

Benoit refocused his glare on Jericho. "You want her at your match?"

Jericho nodded slowly. "Yeah, I want her. Is that okay?"

Benoit's only answer was to furiously shoulder his bag and storm towards the door. He stopped only to give Angel a deadly glare, snap, "Put a damn shirt on" and then he was gone.

As the door slammed shut, Angel let out a breath she didn’t know she'd been holding. She stared meekly at Jericho.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the man I want to sleep with. King of sick and wrong, you have met your queen."

* * * *

After hitting fists with Jericho at the bottom of the ramp, Angel sauntered over to his corner. She was wearing the 'Prove Me Wrong' tube top and no bra, since the one she'd been wearing wasn't strapless.

"Come on, Jerky! Let's go!" she applauded.

"Hey there," called a voice. "You must be the valet."

Angel turned suspiciously and came face to face with a very large, very hairy man. He looked vaguely familiar, like he was someone from her past. From her childhood, perhaps? She decided to test this theory.

"¿Perdon?" she frowned blankly. "No entiendo. No hablo inglés."

"Oh, sorry," he shrugged sheepishly, before patting himself on the chest, the way people often do when faced with foreigners or complete idiots. "My name is Mick Foley."

"Holy shit!" Angel blurted. "You're Al's friend. The Mankind/Dude Love guy!"

He gave her a toothless grin. "Don't forget Cactus Jack. Bang bang!"

"Oh!" Angel said, overly comprehendingly. "You're responsible for the infestation of finger guns in the WWF."

"That's right," Mick told her. "You don't want to get in the way of one of those babies when they're about to shoot. Kind of like Al, huh? And believe me, I'd know."

"What?" Angel shrieked, startled by that little piece of too much information.

Mick chuckled. "Never mind. Just a little game I have with Al. Anyway, in your whole bilingual spiel I think I missed your name."

"Angel Torres," she replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"Watch out," Mick warned, looking down. "You never know where that's been. You'd have to ask Al about that too. Just like climbing the rope in gym class."

Angel immediately withdrew her hand. Exactly how close were Mick Foley and Al Snow? Were they friends or friends? She turned abruptly to the ring, where Jericho had just reversed a press into the Walls.

"Come on, Jerky! Yeah!"

But Austin somehow managed to get to the ropes.

"Come on, Jericho! Kick his ass!"

Then Mick was talking to her again.

"Chris Jericho must be a lucky guy to get a valet like you."

Angel nodded, a smile on her face. "Yeah, we're buddies."

"That's how it is for me and Al," Mick told her. "He knows all about the words 'little buddy'."

Angel frowned again. Exactly where was this going?

"I um…I like your shirt," she faltered, pointing out his white overshirt, which had black stripes painted on it to resemble a ref's shirt.

"Thanks," Mick grinned. "I like yours too. 'Prove Me Wrong'. Chris Benoit, right?"

Angel nodded. "He's my boss."

"Funny, 'cause I'm Al Snow's boss. He loves that kind of thing. Domination, black leather, chains…"

"Get out my way, girlie!" shouted a voice.

Angel had never been happier to see Austin in her life.

She leaped out the way as Austin started shouting at Mick, who didn't back down. Moments later, Jericho flew off the ropes and hit Austin with a dropkick, which sent him back to the ground. Angel cheered as Jericho fought Austin on the outside. But Austin retaliated, bouncing Jericho's head off the steel steps and then throwing him into Foley and knocking them both down.

"Jerky!" Angel cried despairingly, standing over him. "Get up! Come on, get up!"

"You want some, girlie? You want your turn, uh? You want a shot at me, you stupid gold-digging bimbo?"

Angel scowled and clenched her fists, but stayed where she was. She knew what Austin was doing. Provoking her so she'd attack him. Well, Angel wasn't about to do that. Not wait the ref watching, anyway, because that would get Jericho disqualified and Austin would keep the title.

"Kiss my ass, Austin. Come on, Jerky! Get up."

"That's right, girlie. Go on cheering for your little friend. Well, you know what I'm gonna do? Now watch real careful. You won't wanna miss this."

With those words, he grabbed Jericho by the hair and attempted to throw him into the steps, but Jericho gave him the slip and Austin clattered into them instead.

Angel nodded coolly as Austin grabbed desperately at his knee. That was an interesting piece of information.

Jericho continued his assault, only leaving Austin to jump into the ring and break the ten count. At that moment, Foley grabbed Austin and threw him into the ring. Jericho met him with a series of boots, causing him to escape to the outside again.

"Not so fast, jackass," Angel sneered, helping Foley lift him back in and giving him a quick kick to the knee so he'd remember her.

Angel high-tenned Foley as Jericho hit the bulldog on Austin and then went for the lionsault, but Austin raised his knees, catching Jericho's abdomen. Both men were down. Angel waited a half second and…bingo! Earl Hebner had his back turned. She dove into the ring, grabbed Austin's leg and wrenched it around in a modified ankle lock, practically tearing his knee apart. She watched Hebner carefully and, the second he looked like turning around, she was out of sight.

"You didn't see that, did you?" she asked Foley, an innocent smile on her face.

"Watch yourself," he warned her. "Austin's not stupid. He'll do what he can to get Y2J disqualified."

"That's okay," Angel shrugged. "I know what I'm doing. Let's go, Jerky!"

Jericho went for a flying clothesline, but Austin reversed into a slam. He strutted around, getting a few shots in as Angel shouted, "Come on, Jerky, fight back! Fire up! Come on!"

Jericho rolled towards her, cringing and grabbing at his arm.

"I don't know, Rogue," he gasped. "I don't know."

Angel put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You can do it, Jerky. Just keep at him. Keep getting up. You can win, I know it."

But Austin kept kicking him in the head, over and over, using the ropes for extra momentum. Then Austin flipped him to the other side of the ring, wrenching his arms back into a submission hold and then going for the low blow.

"Hey!" cried both Angel and Foley. But there was no point. Hebner hadn't seen it. Austin made the cover, but Jericho kicked out on two, much to Angel's delight.

Mick was screaming and Austin left Jericho long enough to retaliate. Hebner jumped in to get them apart and meanwhile, Angel began to climb the ropes.

"Arrrgh!" she screamed, raising her arms above her head.

Then she leaped, locked her legs around Austin's throat and brought him down in the 'rana. By the time Hebner looked, she was out of the ring.

Jericho was laying into Austin big time, trapping him in the corner, landing punch after punch, whipping him, hitting him with an elbow, then climbing onto the ropes for the missile dropkick. He hit it and made the cover.

"One!" Angel cried. "Two!"

But Austin kicked out.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Angel scowled, pounding the canvas with each word.

Jericho wasn't as stressed, hitting Austin with a clothesline and forcing him up onto the top turnbuckle before bringing him down in a hurricanrana.

Another cover.

"One! Two!"

Again Austin kicked out.

Another whip and Jericho flew off the ropes, but Austin ducked and he hit Hebner instead.

Foley and Angel immediately ran to Hebner's aid.

"Earl! Are you okay?" Foley asked as Angel looked on.

Back in the ring, Jericho got Austin into the Walls of Jericho.

"Mick, count it!" Angel cried, noticing. "Austin's gonna tap."

"Okay. You look after Earl." Mick dove into the ring. "How about it, Steve? Had enough? Hey, Steve?"

But just then, William Regal raced down the ramp, grabbed Mick's legs and dragged him from the ring. Angel looked up with a scowl.

"Piece of shit!"

She launched herself onto Regal's back, just like before - chokehold on, legs locked, lean back, lean back, lean back. Regal cried out and floundered around. Boom! Angel's back slammed into the ringpost and she let go.

"Argh!" she screamed, hitting the ground with a painful thud. She bounced to her feet and raced after Regal, just as Jericho leaped from the ring and joined in the fun.

"Just hold him a second, then get back to your match!" Angel called out, climbing up onto the apron. Neither of them saw Mick Foley going for the chair.

Jericho held Regal back, Angel leaped in a missile dropkick and Foley began to swing a chair, aiming right for Regal. Angel connected with Regal's head, bringing him down; the chair flew through the air. Bam! Jericho was laid out.

Regal was up and attacking Foley as Angel crouched by Jericho's side. She hadn’t seen the impact, but even the sound had sickened her.

"Oh, poor Jerky. Are you okay?"

He was conscious, but only just. And then Austin climbed from the ring. Angel glowered at him.

"Oh yeah, it takes a real tough guy to attack someone when he's down."

Austin turned and gave her an evil grin before grabbing at her, catching her arm and sending her for a whip. Crash! Her body slammed into the steel steps and she screamed in agony.

Suddenly, someone had a hold of her top and pants. She tried to struggle, but before she knew it she was flat on her face and her hand was being wrenched back as pain flooded through her abdomen. Now she knew who it was. She'd been in this hold before.

"Regal! Let her go!" Mick Foley's voice cried out. "She's only a little girl. She doesn't deserve that."

But Regal didn't let go and ding…ding…ding. The match was over and Austin's song played. Jericho had lost. As if Angel's night wasn't already going badly enough.

"I'm warning you, Regal. Let the girl go. Don't make me do something you'll regret."

And then she was free. She breathed heavily, finding her bearings, before dragging herself up onto the apron. What she saw made her keep on going as fast as she could. Jericho had Regal and was turning him over into the Walls. Angel pounced over there and grabbed Regal's hand, which was furiously tapping, shoving it between her legs. She slammed her hands into Regal's nose, locking her fingers, leaning back hard. Crossface. Regal's whole body was torn apart in the crossface and the Walls of Jericho, but his agony wasn't quite over. Mick Foley was pacing the ring, a gym sock on his right hand. He kneeled in front of Regal as Angel slipped her locked hands just that little bit higher, giving access to Regal's mouth. Foley plunged his hand in, gripping the nerves below Regal's tongue. Mandible Claw. There was nothing Regal could do but scream for help until it arrived in the form of several refs.

Finally on her feet again, Angel smirked down at the crumpled heap that was Regal.

"Awesome," she grinned. "We destroyed the son of a bitch."

"That's right," Foley agreed. "And we did it right here, in Minneapolis, Minnesota."

"Come on, Rogue," Jericho called, holding his head. "Let's get out of here."

Angel nodded. "Nice meeting you, Mick."

"You too, Angel. And if you see Al, tell him I'll do him later."

"Will do," Angel frowned uncomfortably before trotting over to Jericho. "You had him, Jerky. I don't know what happened."

"Two things," Jericho snapped, letting her help him up the ramp. "One British assclown and one chair shot to the head. They always seem to put a dampener on my night."

"You'll get him next time, Jerky. I know you will."

"Oh, no doubt about it, baby. And thanks for not getting involved, though I do think you rock. When I beat him, and I know I will beat him, I'm gonna do it alone."

Angel nodded coolly. If he hadn't noticed the 'rana and the ankle lock, she wasn't going to enlighten him.

"So, you ready to go?" Jericho asked as they returned to the locker room. "I don't wanna stick around tonight."

Angel suddenly froze. "I…uh…"

Jericho cringed at the stabbing pain in his skull, but he was still sympathetic. "If you're not okay, we can go out or something."

"No," Angel replied, nodding her head self-assuredly. "It'll be okay. I mean, I have my own room. And he'll probably be sleeping when I get there anyway. I'll be fine." She gave a small smile. "I can get through this. I know I can."

Jericho nodded, pulling her close. "And if you're not okay, you know where to find me. Or you can just pick up the phone."

"Believe me," Angel murmured. "If I need you, I'll call."

* * * *

Angel stepped into the hotel room, humming to herself nervously. All she had to do was get past Benoit, into her room and that'd be another day over. Another day less before Steve Blackman fought him for her freedom.

He heard her enter and got to his feet.

"So, he lost."

"Yeah, he lost," Angel nodded coolly, finding herself becoming hopelessly trapped in his intense blue eyes.

"I'll bet you comforted him, didn't you?" Benoit went on, face expressionless, gaze going right through her and yet never leaving her eyes.

"Well, that's what friends are for," Angel replied uncomfortably, taking half a step forward. She desperately wanted to get past him, but his presence was even bigger than he was - it filled the entire space between her and the security of her room.

"Friends," Benoit replied sarcastically. "Did you give him a blowjob? I bet that made him feel better."

"What?" Angel cried, his words hitting her like cinderblocks to the gut.

"Oh come on, princess," Benoit muttered. "I'm not stupid. I've been away a week. More than a week. I know what you want, how you want your freedom, how much you're prepared to do so you get it. I even made it easy for you, didn't I? Putting you in a room next to his…waiting to see what you'd do…how low you'd stoop. But I guess it's not really stooping, the two of you being such good 'friends' and all." He put such an emphasis on the word he practically snarled it.

Angel swallowed. Now, finally, it seemed as though he wanted to talk…but not about them. About Jericho. About something that didn't even exist.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Benoit," she replied derisively.

"Oh no?" He raised his eyebrows. "Tell me, princess. When's he going to fight for you? Are you gonna give me a little warning this time or am I just going to have to jump in? It won’t matter, though. It's Jericho. I've beaten him over and over. One more for the road, eh?"

Angel took a deep breath, hoping he couldn’t see what he was doing to her. Ever since he'd kissed her, his voice had constantly had a sexual edge to it. Every word was an innuendo, even if it wasn't. And Jericho was right on the money. She did get off on hearing him call her princess. A small smile played across her face. Seeing him vulnerable like this, trying to hide it. It was just too good to pass up.

"What's the matter? Are you afraid?"

"Afraid of Jericho?" He broke into a smirk so evil it was almost delightful. "No. I'm looking forward to it. And when it's done all that will be left of this team…and your 'friend' is a broken pile of nothing. Just like you."

Angel sucked in another huge gasp of air, suddenly realizing she was having trouble breathing at all. She was sweating, too. She was completely drenched. It was all too much. She had to get past, had to get away from him.

"I don't need to listen to this," was her excuse as she started her walk.

Bam! He had her by the neck and her back slammed against the wall. He was right in her face - right there. So damn ugly with his nostrils flared, mouth twitching and veins bulging. But damn, he was sexy.

"You are mine!" he spat into her face. "Do you hear me? Mine! You belong to me. Today, tomorrow, always. You are never getting away. Never!"

It was all she could do not to grab him by the face and kiss him until he too couldn't breathe. But instead she kneed him, right in the bruised ribs and he flew back across the room with a cry.

"Bitch!" he screamed, clutching his abdomen, rage and pain turning his face beet red.

She glowered at him, her breathing still ragged. "I told you not to touch me, asshole."

He stopped short, only half smirking, eyebrows up.

"But Jericho can touch you all he likes, right, princess? I bet he likes fucking you. I bet you fuck him real good."

"How dare you," Angel spat, pissed off at him, pissed off at herself for letting him turn her on. "What I do is none of your goddamn business."

"Wrong," Benoit growled, approaching her again. "It is my business. Because I own you. You're mine."

"Right," Angel muttered, raising her own eyebrows into a sarcastic smirk. "So it's your business. What do you want to know?"

For a second, he was on the back foot, but he soon recovered. "Just one thing. You fuck him so he'll fight me. Do you enjoy it? Do you like fucking Jericho? Or are you just some vessel, a tool, a toy, a goddamn whore!"

Slap! The second Angel's hand crashed across his cheek he had her pinned against the wall. His mouth slammed against hers, their teeth clashed. His tongue invaded her mouth and she was gone, completely gone. And then he was sucking on her tongue and God, she wanted him. She wanted him to take her, right then and there. But he didn't. He simply pressed his hands against her shoulders and pushed himself away, leaving her to hunt him blindly with her mouth, before she realized he wasn't coming back and her eyes flickered open - showing everything.

He was staring at her and he saw it all. Confusion, lust, disappointment, hope and above all, fear. He had all he wanted, right there.

Nodding slowly, he formed his smirk again.

"Goodnight, princess," he said quietly. "Sleep tight, little one."

Then he walked calmly over to the door to her room, opened it and stepped back so she could pass by freely, allowing her that one place of refuge. She trudged over there, ignoring him, refusing to look at him, trying desperately to get her thoughts straight. She slammed the door shut after herself and flopped down onto the bed. She wanted to figure it out, wanted to know what it was all about, but all she could think was 'damn, if he kisses like that…what else? What else?'

'Come on, Angel,' she told herself, pressing her index fingers to her temples and trying to ignore the fact that his smell was all over her, not to mention his taste.

He thought she was with Jericho…thought she was 'fucking' him, to use his words. That had surprised her. Even when he was really, really pissed off, the worst word he used was 'shit'. But apparently she was fucking Jericho. He'd seemed jealous. Was he jealous? The thought almost made her cry out in some sick pleasure. Then she realized it wasn't true. His words had given him away.

In Benoit's mind, Angel was nothing more than an object, no more important than a sock or one of his tapes and certainly not as important as his title belt. But she was his property and he would protect her. From everyone. Even Jericho. She belonged to Benoit and he wanted to make damn sure everyone knew it.

And then it all made sense. All those times he'd fought for her, every time he got revenge after she was attacked, it wasn't because of the deal they'd made. He was simply protecting what was his.

Suddenly, she let out a terrified gasp. She now knew what it was about. The promises he'd made meant nothing to Benoit. It was all because she was his possession. He didn't like other people hurting her because he wanted to be the one to do it. He wasn't afraid of hurting her, he was simply waiting…and waiting…and waiting. He was lulling her into a false sense of security, letting her think she was safe, when all the time he was picking his spot, waiting, just waiting to take her down. It was so characteristic of him - so ruthless, so methodical, she was startled she'd never realized it before. And now she was scared out of her mind.

She had to get out. Had to get away from him. For, while she could beat him in the ring, here tonight he was psychotic and anything was possible. Angel gathered all her bags together and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi," she replied, breathless with fear. "It's me."

"Baby, what's up?"

"I gotta get out, Jerky. I can't stay here. Can I stay with you tonight?"

A pause. "What, it's all too much for you, is it?"

He had no idea. "Yeah, yeah it is."

"Well, yeah, Rogue. You can stay here. But what I think you should do is stay there and try to get some sleep. If that doesn't work, come down here. I'll leave the door unlocked, okay, baby?"

She swallowed. "Okay. Thanks. Bye."

Angel put down the phone, knowing she wouldn't be following his advice. She was leaving and she was leaving now. But first, she needed to make sure she could get past Benoit and out the door.

She kept them in a reinforced plastic shopping bag - the kind clothes come in, well, except for her fighting sticks, which were still firmly attached to her pants. They weren't enough. She had to be ready for anything. She licked her lips as she examined her options, thinking through everything. These were all a bitch to take on planes, but for some reason no one had ever called her on them, which was weird, considering they were deadly weapons.

Nodding to herself, she picked up the nunchukas and lifted the legs of her pants, sticking them firmly into the top of her boot, but half out so she could grab at them if she needed them. Next, she withdrew the leather belt and tested it by slapping it down on her palm. Nodding with satisfaction, she removed the flimsy belt chain from around her waist and replaced it with the leather one. Chain…that was a damn good idea. But not the belt one, it wasn't strong enough. From memory she had one in here somewhere - aha! She ran it slowly along her hands, pooling it in her palm. Where to put it? Ah - wallet chain. Perfect. She linked one end around her belt loop and shoved the rest down her pocket. Done. She was anchored. She was equipped.

"I'm Lara freaking Croft," she muttered, digging into the bag again.

A rock, a hard blunt object went into her other pocket and she was all but ready. If Benoit was going to take her down tonight, it sure wouldn't be without a fight. There was just one thing left. Handcuffs. Brilliant. If he tried anything she'd be more than ready. She could even tie him up with the chain, cuff him and call the cops. Or not call the cops. Oh yeah, that'd be real good.

"Calm yourself, Angel," she told herself. "This is life or death. You can't be getting turned on."

She attached the cuffs to one of her belt loops and fastened the key to her bracelet. Finally, with the sticks, nunchukas, belt, chain, rock and cuffs, she was ready to defend herself. Ready to fight for her life.

She picked up her backpack and cases and walked.

* * * *

Benoit was sitting up in bed when he heard the door open, so he scrambled around and finally found is feet.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, noticing her bags.

"I'm leaving," she said simply.

"No, you're not."

"Actually, yes I am." She angrily continued to lug her bags though the room. "I don't need you anymore, Benoit. The only reason we had this messed up living arrangement was so I wouldn't get beaten up. Well, now I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. I'm leaving."

"Are you going to Jericho's?" Benoit snapped, a slight edge to his voice.

"Actually, yes."

"Yeah," he muttered. "Of course you are. I bet you're gonna fuck him again, right? Tell me, slut. How many times do you have to fuck someone before they'll fight for you?"

Angel ignored him. She was almost to the door. "It's only for tonight. Starting tomorrow I'll either share a room with Trish or I'll get a single. Like I said, I can take care of myself."

And suddenly she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and his hands firmly on her hips.

'Oh God,' she thought, desperately trying to slow her breathing. 'Now what do I do?'

"What are these, eh?" he growled into her ear, giving something on her pants a tug. She knew what he had. The handcuffs. She longed for him to press his whole body against her, but her backpack was in the way. It was just his hands - his hands and the heat of his breath. "Are they for Jericho? The two of you like to play? Is that it, slut? You and Jericho play little games together when you fuck?"

"No," she blurted.

"No? No?" Benoit was surprised. "They're not for Jericho?"

"No," she said again, knowing she couldn’t take much more of this. The feeling of his hands on her, his hot breath in her ear, the sound of his deep, sexy voice was almost too much. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. She wanted Benoit.

"No?" he snapped. He gave her hips a squeeze and she cried out. "Then who are they for, slut? Who are they for?"

Somewhere, somehow she managed to find herself.

"Get your goddamn hands off me. Now!"

He gave a little laugh, low and sexy, right in her ear. "Or what?"

She didn't respond with words. Instead, she swung her elbow back into his stomach then, in one fluid movement, reached across her body, grabbed her sticks, spun around and slammed them against his ribs.

He screamed and jumped back, doubling over in pain.

Angel watched him carefully, frightened by the intensity of her emotions. He was in agony, his face was contorted and his eyes varying between being squeezed shut and wide and wild, but she was positive she'd never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

When he spoke, it was an enraged snarl.

"Why the hell do you have cuffs, slut? Who are they for?"

She was mesmerized by him. Mesmerized and terrified.

"I don't know," she breathed, her voice no more than a whisper.

"You don’t know?" he screamed, finally standing bolt upright. "You don't know? You have a set of handcuffs hanging off you like some goddamn trailer trash hooker and you don't know what they're for?"

"No," she insisted, tears starting to fill her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was usually so strong. Why was she breaking down?

"Then I suggest you figure it out, you little slut," he snapped, emphasizing the last word as though he'd never used it on her before, as if it was the harshest insult ever. For Angel, at that moment, it was.

"Why are you like this?" she asked, her frown masking her hurt, her lust, everything. "Why are you acting this way?"

He actually did a take, then reformed his scowl.

"How stupid are you? Jericho's always talking you up, saying how smart you are. You're not smart. You're just another stupid damn airhead broad, aren't you? Aren't you?"

"No!" Angel cried. "That's not an answer. Tell me why."

"You can't figure that out?" With each word they'd become louder and louder so that by now they were screaming at each other.

"No!"

"You really can't?"

"No!"

"It's simple, princess. Really simple. I want to fuck your brains out."

Angel's mouth dropped open. He hadn't said that. He couldn't have. Her eyes slowly tailed down his body, lingered a moment, then went back up to his eyes.

His expression was curious. "Find what you were looking for?"

A blush crept into her cheeks but in truth, she hadn't. His pants were just loose enough. But if he'd said what she thought he'd said…she had to know.

"What did you just say? Just before, I mean."

"I think you heard me," he replied expressionlessly.

She slowly shook her head, confusion joining all her other emotions. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. It wasn't right. She had to go. Had to get out. Had to run and find Jericho so she could cry on his shoulder and he could tell her that she was beautiful, that everything was going to be okay. Benoit didn't think she was beautiful. He thought she was nothing. But still she wanted him.

"I'm not going to let that happen," she said simply, reholstering her sticks, then reaching down to pick up her bags again. The second she moved, he lunged for her, but she was ready, dropping her bags and launching her fists into his gut.

"Fuck!" he screamed, hurtling forward.

Her back slammed against the wall and he pinned her there with his body. And then his mouth was on hers again - hot, possessive, overpowering. His hands were on her face, holding her against him, but when they moved she didn’t break the kiss, tasting his tongue with her own, breathing heavily into his mouth. His hands slid down her neck, onto her shoulders. He grabbed at the straps of her backpack, shoved them violently down her arms, then threw the bag across the room. And still they kissed as he pushed her against the wall again, thrusting his hips against hers. And now there was no doubt in Angel's mind. No doubt whatsoever. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. All she could do was kiss him and hold on for the ride of her life.

His hands were still on her shoulders, then on the front of her tube top, trailing fire in their wake. He cupped her covered breasts, massaged them with his fingertips as he slammed her body against the wall with his own. Angel gasped and writhed against him, longing for him to go down her top, desperate to feel his hands on her.

Still Benoit kissed her and touched her, his leg moving between both of hers. And then his hands moved down too, setting alight the bare skin at her waist, trailing firmly over her hips, grabbing at her sticks and throwing them away with a clatter. His hands were on her ass, firmly, pressing her into him; he was sucking on her tongue and she was crazy, absolutely crazy with desire for him. But still his hands moved, gripping her thighs and she didn't need any other incentive, leaping at him and wrapping her legs around his waist. As she crashed into his bruised ribs he cried out and released her mouth. She threw her head back, clonking it against the wall but she didn't care, grateful for the chance to breathe for a half second before she again craved the taste of him, grabbed at the back of his head and kissed him urgently. He cringed as she continued straining against his ribs and put a hand on the wall to steady himself before tearing his mouth from hers and devouring her neck with his lips, teeth and tongue. And then his other hand was up her top, touching, grabbing, exploring.

"Oh God," she gasped when his mouth found the base of her throat and still headed lower as she clutched him desperately with her hands and her legs and he still pushed her back against the wall. His lips found the fabric of her tube top and his tongue flickered down, into her cleavage.

"Oh God, Benoit!" she cried out, while silently begging, 'Take it off. Please take it off.'

And then he stopped his motion, reached back, unhooked her legs and placed her on her feet, on the ground. Her eyes shot open, filled with need and disappointment.

He stared at her intently and broke into a smirk.

"Goodbye, princess," he said quietly, his own breathing still ragged. "Have fun with Jericho." And then he turned and started walking towards the bathroom.

Angel blinked and tried to reclaim her thoughts. "Wh-where are you going? What are you doing?"

Benoit paused for a moment to adjust his clothes and answer her question. "I think you can figure that out." And then he kept on walking.

"Stop!" Angel cried suddenly.

And stop he did, turning back with that evil grin. "Is there something you want, princess?"

Angel scowled and slammed her hands onto her hips. He was going to make her say it. The son of a bitch was going to make her beg. Her face blazed her mortification as her body blazed for Benoit.

"I want you."

He nodded slowly, taking a step or two back towards her. "You want who?"

She couldn't look him in the eye, she just couldn't.

"You!"

"Look at me!" she shouted, suddenly right in her face. "I said, look at me!"

She raised her head and finally, finally opened her eyes.

"Who do you want?" Benoit growled, eyes blazing.

"Y…" Angel started, but Benoit cut her off by clamping his mouth down on hers. It was so good she actually let out a sigh of relief to feel him kissing her again. But then it was over just as quick. He had her by the back of the head, by the hair.

"That's right. And who do you belong to?"

"Oh!" Angel groaned, hands flying back to his arm.

Still holding her, he twisted his grasp so he could get at her neck. He was sucking on it, nibbling on it. And then he broke away again.

"I said, who do you belong to?" he demanded, wrenching her head around again.

Angel moaned, but pain had never really bothered her in the past and it wasn't going to now. It didn't matter how much she wanted him. It was the principle of the thing.

"Answer me!" he snapped, wrenching even harder.

"Fuck you," she scowled, trying to get her head free.

Benoit gave another little laugh and slammed against her again. He started grinding his hips into her and she couldn't help it - the movement was driving her wild. She jerked her head from his hands, nearly tearing her hair out and began attacking anywhere she could reach with her mouth. She bit his neck and ran her tongue over his Adam's apple and he couldn't stifle a moan as it escaped from his lips. Her hands were on his ass, locking their bodies together as he moved against her and she responded, suddenly desperate to get naked, to get him naked. If he pulled away again…well, hell, she'd even have to consider going to find Jeff. But who was she kidding? She wanted Benoit and she wanted him now.

His mouth found hers in a searing kiss and it was all too much. She had to get him naked. Her hands rushed down to his belt and then suddenly his hand was on her hair again, dragging her mouth away from his.

He stared right through her, breathing erratic, eyes dark, face bathed in sweat.

"Not yet!" He jerked her head backwards and found her neck with his lips, kissing his way up her jawline until he reached her ear. "Not until you tell me who you belong to."

There was a rumbling in Angel's throat and suddenly she spat, right in Benoit's face.

He let out a roar and yanked her head back even further, feeling the need to wipe his face with his free hand, despite the fact that most of the saliva was probably his. Then, when he was done, he formed a grimace and plunged his hand up her top again.

"Who do you belong to?"

"Fuck you!"

Rip! In one swift motion, Benoit's hand tore through the fabric and Angel's tube top was gone. And then his head was down there, kissing her hungrily.

"Oh God!" she cried, bringing her hands down against his head and burying them in his hair as she writhed against him. He was going too far. Too far. If he stopped again…and then he did.

"No!" she yelped despairingly. "Don't stop! Please don't stop."

And then his tongue was back on her, tasting her, teasing her.

"Bastard!" she gasped. "Son of a bitch!"

Again he stopped.

"No!" She was stunned by how shrill her voice sounded.

He lifted his head from her and they locked eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?" How the hell could he sound so calm? This had to be killing him too. She could feel it. She could feel it…feel him.

"No, God no."

"Then tell me who owns you! Who do you belong to?" His voice was savage and rapid, like machine gun fire. Like fire, like fire. Oh God, she was so turned on. But she refused, refused to let him…lick her…bite her…refused…refused.

"Fuck you." Oh shit. Where had her conviction gone?

Benoit made eye contact once more, smirk in place. She let out a relieved gasp as he let go of her hair, only to trail both palms down her chest, down her stomach to the front of her pants as he bent his head to kiss her breasts again.

'No,' she thought as his hands worked her belt buckle and then her zip. 'Please no. If he stops…' He was going to take her there…get her right to the edge…and then he'd stop…and then…and the scary part was she was almost there already…almost there.

Benoit's finger's looped inside her underwear. He was testing her, going slow, driving her out of her mind with desire. How was he doing it? How? Her own hands again grabbed for his belt. This time she got it undone. She was just going for his fly when bam! Her back hit the wall as he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

"No," he growled, his voice so low it was barely audible. "Now your hands have to stay here."

Angel whimpered and rested her head against the wall as his mouth traveled down her body again. Down her stomach, down, down, over her navel, down…

"Okay!" she screamed. "I'm yours! I belong to you! Just…please…please…"

But Benoit was unmoved.

"Say my name," he murmured, running his tongue over her belly button ring, threatening to go lower…lower.

"Benoit!" she yelped. "I belong to…you…Benoit."

And then he stopped, completely still and lowered her hands to her sides as he met her gaze.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, voice heavy with lust.

Angel just whimpered. He'd stopped. He'd stopped. But then, thankfully, he was pressing in on her, his cheek against hers. He breathed heavily into her ear.

"So fucking sexy…so fucking sexy."

'No!' Angel almost wailed out loud. She'd relented and this was what she got? At least he was still on her.

"I wasn't kidding," he breathed. "I want to fuck your brains out."

'So do it already,' she thought. 'Please, do it.'

And then…

"Take my pants off," he growled, still moving his hips against hers. "Take my fucking pants off."

Her hands moved quickly, eager to do what he said. And then she formed a wide grin and slowly, slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

"What the fuck?" he shouted and she almost burst into ecstatic laughter. "I told you to take my fucking pants off. Do it!"

Angel just smirked, knowing that now he'd told her to do it, he'd wait for her, that he wouldn't do it himself. And frankly, now that the shoe was on the other foot, she felt the rush Benoit must have felt before and knew for sure that if he was half as turned on as her, he was in real trouble.

"In a minute," she murmured absently, concentrating on the last of his buttons.

"Now!" he hissed as she finally got the shirt undone and slid her hands over his shoulders to take it right off. His skin was burning and slick with sweat. Payback was a bitch. She lowered her head and attacked his chest with her mouth, ignoring her own need, knowing this wouldn't take too long.

"Take my fucking…fuck!"

Ha. He couldn't even speak in full sentences now and his voice was urgent.

"Take my…oh fuck…"

He couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing Angel by any part he could reach, he hoisted her up and kissed her desperately, his mouth scorching hers. Then he tore himself away and stared deep into her eyes, gasping erratically, incapable of speech, pleading her, begging her.

Oh hell, that was good enough. He'd learned his lesson, surely. She could hardly move her hands between their bodies to get at his pants but finally, finally she was there. She tore at him furiously as he still pressed against her and kept nibbling on her earlobe, her neck, everywhere. All rational thought was gone. All powertrip bullshit was gone. There was just him and her. Her legs around his waist, his strong arms supporting her, her fingers digging into his back.

He drove her into the wall with a groan…it was hurting his ribs…the pain was intense, but it didn't matter…didn't matter because…damn…the pain…didn't matter… Still she kissed him, licked him, bit him. Now he was the one struggling for control. Fucking little bitch. He was gone…he was past gone. He could see it, feel it, touching him, teasing him, grabbing him. The blinding, mind-numbing euphoria…right there…and she was screaming his name. "Benoit! Oh God, Benoit!" Telling him to go harder, faster, or maybe that was just his mind…didn't matter…didn't matter. "Benoit!" She could form words…how…he couldn't…couldn’t… "Benoit!" And then she clamped her whole body around him, screaming his name once more and it was too much…too much…again…again…boom! His eyes rolled to the back of his head. The world exploded and exploded and exploded. Life was fucking beautiful. His legs were gone and he pulled her down with him, clutching her to his chest as they panted and waited for their thousand degree bodies to cool just a bit. He had one arm draped across her waist and the other across her face, his hand buried in her hair, saturated in sweat. She lay still and silent, eyes closed as his heart raced beneath her ear.

"You're mine," he gasped, as soon as he was able. "You belong to me."

Angel didn't answer him. She didn't care what she was so long as she got to fuck him again. He was a virus and the sooner she got him out of her system the better. No way in hell he could be that good again. No way…but she damn sure wanted to find out.

She began climbing his body with her lips and teeth and tongue until he grabbed at her face and pulled her mouth up to meet his, kissing her roughly, deeply. And then he was sucking on her tongue as his hands explored her body. What was that Trish had said about wrestlers and endurance? It was going to be one hell of a night.

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