It was him.

Of course it was him.

Even with a camera trained on him and his passion in full flow as he argued with that bastard Bischoff he knew whose eyes were fixed on him. There was no need to look, no need to prove himself right, the air had a way of changing whenever he was present.

As much as he hated the sight of Bischoff's smug face it was infinitely more appealing than facing the cool hazel eyes that were burning into the back of his head. He held Bischoff's gaze as long as possible while his confidence grew and then he quickly turned to face the waiting presence behind him.

He had every intention of walking past without as much as a sideways glance but Hunter had other ideas. Those hazel eyes held him in their trap as they quickly swept over his face and body. The hazel always had a way of making him feel so inadequate.

"Jericho."

Blue eyes mimicked their hazel counterparts, quickly skimming over the smart suit to the overly straightened hair. Hunter stiffened slightly under the scrutiny, momentarily lost in the most indescribable shade of blue. Chris' _expression was blank and unreadable, his emotions were being as tightly controlled as Hunter's.

"Hunter."

And then the control broke. The usual honey of that oh so seductive voice had been replaced by a tone that screamed 'fuck you' and it made Hunter pause. Chris stormed past and for the briefest of moments Hunter was struck dumb. He couldn't remember why he'd so purposely strode into Bischoff's office, his entire world was made of blue.

But then he regained his composure, locked eyes with the camera man and became the Game again.

*~*~*~

Chris gingerly pressed his fingers into his temples as he walked down the corridor, nervously trailed by several agents and referees. His fingertips moved in concise little circles in an attempt to ward off the headache that had been bought on by John Cena's fascination with repeatedly introducing his head to the concrete floor.

He stood in front of the sanctuary of his locker room and glared at the officials who quickly took the hint and departed, happy that the backstage fracas had been broken up. The corridor was deserted and Chris allowed his forehead to rest against the heavy door.

It had been one hell of a night.

His goal of getting a WWE title shot had been obtained but it had come at a price as the jackhammer inside his brain kept on reminding him. He could feel the beads of sweat caused by the too hot arena rolling down his bare back as he tried to control his thought processes.

He should have been preoccupied with the title shot. It had been so long, too long, since he'd had a proper title shot. Or maybe he should have been thinking about attacking his own tag partner from behind. After all that's the kind of behavior that could shape your career for several months to come. At a stretch he could have been worried by the volume and sincerity behind the "Jericho sucks" chants that rang out around the arena.

But no matter how hard he tried his mind kept on betraying him and playing the scene from Bischoff's office. One word, one man, one flick of hazel eyes… And he couldn't get it out of his mind.

He pounded the door with the palm of his hand in frustration. In the six years since he'd joined the WWE he'd carefully cultivated a deep hatred for Hunter and he knew that he'd never be on Hunter's Christmas card list. There had been far too many sledgehammer shots and ex-wife insults for that. So why was his mind consumed with images of Hunter's suit spread over the floor of his locker room?

Maybe John Cena had hit him a little too hard.

He opened the locker room door and blindly groped for the light switch. The artificial light assaulted his senses and made the pain in his head flare. He screwed his eyes shut on instinct and all he wanted was a relaxing shower and a handful of painkillers.

"Jericho."

One word in that voice and he knew that he had no chance of either. He briefly opened his eyes, just to confirm that it was indeed Hunter sitting in front of him and not a headache induced auditory hallucination and considered walking out. But it was his locker room. Why should he leave?

"Hunter," Chris said mockingly in the same 'fuck you' tone as earlier.

Hunter was sitting on Chris' case, eyes expectant and lips turned upwards in a cheesy grin. The grin unnerved Chris. Hunter had only grinned at him once before and that was after leaving him bloody and defeated on top of the Hell in a Cell. Chris shook his head to try and clear the fog that was descending but he couldn't decide if it was due to the head shots or due to Hunter's proximity.

"I'm impressed," Hunter said simply as he rose to his feet.

Chris wiped the sweat from his brow as he glared at Hunter. "With me? That'd be a first."

Hunter smiled again. "What makes you think that you haven't impressed me before?"

A bitter laugh escaped Chris' lips before he realized that Hunter was still staring at him with that damn grin on his face. "You've hated me since the day I got here Hunter. And I've got the stitches and bruised ego to prove it."

"Maybe I do hate you. Doesn't mean you're not impressive."

"Get out Hunter, I'm not in the mood for your games," Chris said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He sat down heavily on one of the wooden benches that littered the locker room and grabbed his case. Hunter merely continued watching.

"Can you stop watching me? It's making me nervous."

"I make you nervous Jericho?"

"No," Chris said far too quickly. "Being watched makes me nervous."

Hunter chuckled softly and walked up to Chris, his smart shoes stopping mere inches from the toes of Chris' wrestling boots. "What happened in Bischoff's office?"

"You were there, you tell me," Chris snapped. His fingers yanked harshly at the laces on his boots as he tried to control his reactions to Hunter's closeness, the simple task of unlacing his boots suddenly becoming as difficult as the most complicated algebraic equation. He could almost feel the heat radiating from the man before him and it was making the fog in his mind thicken.

Hunter dropped to his knees, his lips still curled in a knowing smile, and gently eased the tangled laces loose. His fingers brushed against Chris' heated and awkward digits for only a fraction of a second but it was enough to cause the seated man to inhale sharply.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked gently, the usual confidence in his voice having deserted him.

"Helping."

Chris leaned back and felt the muted warmth of the usually cold concrete wall against his shoulder blades. His head soon followed and he dutifully lifted each foot in turn as Hunter slowly pulled his boots off. Chris tried to make sense of what was happening but he couldn't find any sense at all. Six years of mutual hatred yet not only was Hunter almost gently removing his boots but he was allowing him to.

His eyes closed again. He knew Hunter still knelt before him and he could feel the heat of Hunter's never wavering gaze but it no longer made him nervous. There was still a feeling in the pit of his stomach but it was no longer nervousness. It had long since developed and mutated into something else but Chris was too scared to try and comprehend exactly what it had developed into.

The hand that had tenderly clasped the back of his ankle and lifted his leg had not broken it's grip and Chris felt his heart rate increase as the hand slowly moved up his leg. Fingertips danced lightly over his knee and outer thigh, each movement keenly felt through the thin spandex that clung so sinfully to his skin. When the fingers cautiously reached his inner thigh he nearly jumped off the bench.

"Hunter!" Chris exclaimed as he batted away Hunter's hand and jumped to his feet. "Stop it."

"Why?" Hunter asked slowly, still grinning.

"Why?" Chris repeated incredulously. "You've made a career out of ridiculing me. Every time I get somewhere, every time I'm almost in the main event scene you come along and destroy everything. And the one time that I do make it and headline Wrestlemania who is it that beats me? You. That's not a coincidence. We detest each other."

"I know that."

"Then why did you have your hands all over my thighs?!"

Hunter stood up slowly and removed his suit jacket as he quickly closed the space between himself and the confused man before him. "I don't know" he said with an exaggerated swing of his arms. "I don't know why I did that. I don't know why I've done anything to you. All I know is that I can't exorcise you from my mind. Sure I hate you, but that doesn't stop my cock from twitching whenever I'm near you."

Chris opened his mouth to reply but no reply came. The words died in his throat and instead escaped as a moan that sounded far more aroused than he had wanted. He didn't flinch when Hunter's right hand stroked his cheek before hovering behind his neck. Even the movement of Hunter's hand down the slope of his back to the curve of his ass didn't break his stoicism.

"Don't fight it Jericho," Hunter whispered against Chris' lips. "There's always been such tension between us and we both know why. It's because I've never been able to decide whether to beat your ass or fuck it. And you feel the same."

Hunter lowered his lips to Chris' neck and sucked lightly, the heady mixture of sweat, arousal and cologne flooding his body. "All of those nights spent rolling around together, sweat slicked and half naked," Hunter paused his words to sweep his tongue around the shell of Chris' ear, "I know I wasn't the only one who spent the night jacking off. I could feel how hard you were for me Jericho.

"I can feel how hard you are for me now," Hunter said as his left hand obscenely groped Chris' crotch.

Chris' only reaction was to take Hunter's head in his hands and attempt to steal the breath from his lungs.

The kiss deepened as tongues and groins frantically rubbed against each other. Neither man was in any doubt as to what was going to happen. No flowery words of love. No promises of phone calls. There wouldn't even be as much as a post fuck smile. It was pure animalistic lust that they both felt, pure lust fuelled by pure hatred.

Their bodies were pressed together tightly, the sweat and oil that covered Chris' skin soaking into Hunter's lilac shirt. Hunter's hands were in Chris' wrestling tights, roughly groping his flesh as the occasional finger teased his opening causing a moan to form in Chris' mouth that was immediately swallowed by the heat of Hunter's lips. Chris' fingers were wrapped tightly in Hunter's hair forcing his head to one side to allow Chris' tongue better access.

Chris reluctantly separated his mouth from Hunter's and stared at him through the stray ends of his wet hair. "Aren't you supposed to greet our draft pick soon?"

"Fuck," Hunter swore, having forgotten about his promise to 'welcome' RAW's latest recruit.

"Then I guess we'd better be quick," Chris said, his eyes shining as his hands deftly unfastened Hunter's trousers.

Hunter grinned again as Chris sank to his knees before him, his trousers pooling around his ankles in record time. The sweat started to bead on his forehead when Chris slowly licked his lips but it was the eager lust filled glint in his eyes and the sly smile on his face that really got to Hunter. Fingers wrapped around his heated hardness and stroked slowly, always slowly, causing Hunter to utter an uncharacteristic whine.

Chris merely chuckled softly before placing a chaste kiss on the head of Hunter's hardened cock. "I think I'm going to enjoy this just as much as you."

Chris opened his lips and allowed the head of Hunter's cock to enter his mouth, the feel and taste driving him wild beyond belief. He sucked strongly, his cheeks hollowing with the force of the suction but made no effort to take any more of Hunter's throbbing flesh into his mouth. His hands found Hunter's heavy balls and he massaged them in his hands as Hunter inched his hips forward, eager to feel more of the wet heat of Chris' mouth surrounding him.

Chris obliged, moaning in satisfaction when he felt Hunter's hard and thick cock weighing heavily on his tongue. He bobbed his head furiously, lips, teeth and tongue all working in unison to drive the man who stood before him wild. Hunter had an almost painful grip on his shoulders, his weight leaning on Chris more and more with every flick of his tongue until his fingernails left noticeable crescent indents on Chris' smooth skin.

"Do you like sucking my dick Jericho?" Hunter asked in rasping breaths.

All Chris could do was moan in reply, the vibrations of his speech causing minor explosions along the length of Hunter's cock.

"All those times I used a sledgehammer to shut you up," Hunter mused, his eyes closing as the feelings in his balls intensified, "when all that was needed was a cock in your mouth."

Hunter chuckled slightly when his eyes opened and he saw that Chris was giving him the old Stone Cold salute, his cock still buried deep in his mouth. Jericho's pouted lips fit his cock so well that he was starting to have a renewed appreciation for that legendary mouth of his. Hunter's body was flush with desire as Chris so skillfully sucked his cock, applying pressure in all of the right places. A graze of his teeth over the sensitive head was nearly enough to make Hunter come undone but in a feat that amazed even himself Hunter was able to control his reaction.

Reluctantly Hunter stepped away from the haven of Chris' mouth and he grinned again when he saw Chris staring up at him with a look of disappointment on his face.

"I was enjoying that" Chris said with a pout as he rose to his bare feet.

"So was I. If your ass feels as good as your mouth I may have to start liking you."

Chris chuckled knowingly. "Hunter, ten minutes with me and you'll be President of my fan club."

Hunter smirked as he quickly closed the gap between them, his thumbs resting dangerously close to the waistline of Chris' wrestling tights. "Has anyone ever told you that you're an arrogant little bastard?"

Chris locked eyes with Hunter as he felt his tights swiftly being pulled down to his knees. "And you're a politics playing, spotlight stealing asshole. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way can you fuck me please?"

"I don't remember ever stealing your spotlight," Hunter said as he gripped Chris' cock firmly and pulled him closer, Chris' bare chest once again coming into contact with the thin cotton of his shirt.

A droplet of sweat rolled from Hunter's temple down his face but Chris' tongue caught it before it could reach the facial hair on his cheek. "But you admit to playing politics?"

Hunter released Chris' cock and gave him an exaggerated wink and grin before gracefully switching their positions so that it was now Chris' back leaning against his chest. The large palms of his hands ran down Chris' back from loose shoulders to the curve of his lower back, halting their journey when they came to rest on the muscled flesh of Chris' ass.

"As the song says Jericho," Hunter said as he dropped to his knees, "it's all about the game, and how you play it."

Any witty remarks about playing games that were forming in Chris' mind were instantly forgotten when he felt the tip of Hunter's hot and warm tongue shallowly probing his puckered entrance. When the tongue eased inside he could barely remember his own name. The tongue was soon joined by a finger and Chris could feel his usually strong and reliable legs turning to jelly as he was thoroughly prepared by the most talented fingers he'd ever known.

"Fuck.." Chris swore, a shudder of pleasure flowing through him as Hunter's hair tickled the sensitive skin of his ass and an extra finger was added, "if your fingers feel this good then I can't wait to see what your cock feels like."

Hunter's fingers continued working their magic until the needs of his cock took over. Despite still being clothed in his shirt he could feel the sweat accumulating on his back and it drove him on, the heat of his body was finding it's release and now it was time for the heat in his groin to find it's release also. Chris whimpered slightly when he removed first his fingers and then his tongue but he knew that Chris was as eager to finish what they had started as he was.

"Hands on the wall," Hunter said, his head gesturing towards the wall in front of them, "now it's time to see if I really was missing out by beating your ass instead of fucking it."

He watched as Chris placed his palms flat on the wall, strong arms stretched straight and his legs as wide apart as possible with his wrestling tights still around his knees. The only sound in the room was their heavy and rapid breaths that mingled together and became one loud sign of their passion. Hunter leaned against Chris, his aching cock pressing in-between Chris' ass cheeks as he idly reached around and roughly pinched a nipple.

Chris wriggled his hips as an invitation to take things to their final step. "Dammit Hunter, just fuck me already!"

Hunter chuckled as he positioned his hips and eased the head of his cock inside. "How does that feel Jericho?" he muttered as he fought his body's desperate plea to inch inside further, "ready for the main event?"

The hidden insult in Hunter's words was still clear despite the arousal that threatened to consume them both. "You're an asshole, Hunter. Now fuck mine."

Hunter bit his lips as he sheathed himself fully inside Chris, the snug pressure that he felt around his cock causing his eyes to roll back and his breath to become even more ragged than before. The hiss of pain that came from Chris' lips was soon replaced by a seductive moan that only served to heighten the demands made by Hunter's dick.

"You feel so fucking good Hunter," Chris said, each word punctuated by a roll of his hips. "So big... So full..."

The demands of Hunter's cock overruled any notion he had of taking his time. He suddenly became aware that he was due in the ring within a matter of moments and finally allowed his most base of desires to take over as he poured every ounce of concentration and strength into making Chris scream his name. His hands gripped the sweaty flesh of Chris' hips as he rode his ass hard, finding deep satisfaction in the wails coming from his unlikely lover.

Hunter sucked on the nape of Chris' neck, his nose buried in wet blonde hair that fell on his face. Chris' hands were still on the wall and he could see the sweat patches left behind as the frantic coupling made Chris' palms slide across the smooth painted concrete. Every snap of his hips was matched by an equally fierce roll of Chris' as they fell into a frenzied but easy rhythm.

"That's it Hunter," Chris wailed when Hunter's cock rammed into his prostrate, "right fucking there."

Hunter moved his left hand from it's death grip on Chris' hip and wrapped his fingers around his cock, his thumb gathering the fluid that had leaked from the tip. He roughly stroked Chris' cock, his hand twisting around the thickness as well as running along the length. Chris' eyes closed and he knew that he could not hold out much longer. Every brush of Hunter's cock against his sweet spot and every twist of Hunter's hand was driving him wild.

"Nearly there," Chris gasped as he felt Hunter's length drive into him once again.

"Scream Jericho. I wanna hear you scream my fucking name."

A few more thrusts and twists and Chris did exactly that. "Hunter!"

Chris arched his back and leaned his head on Hunter's shoulder as he came, his hands finally leaving the wall and resting on Hunter's still thrusting hips. His cock covered Hunter's hands with his cum until he had nothing left to give either physically or mentally.

The combined feel of Chris' muscles clamping down on his cock and the cum on his fingers was enough for Hunter to experience his own orgasm. He buried his face in Chris' hair as he finally found his release, the power of speech taken from him as he silently mouthed one word. "Jericho."

Hunter's arms wrapped around Chris' waist as they regained their senses together, neither of them wanting to break the intimate contact that still existed between them. It was Chris who stirred first, a smile of satisfaction on his face as he turned to face Hunter and saw the euphoria still evident in the hazel eyes that had always captivated him.

"You're a mess," Chris said happily as he looked at the sweat patches on Hunter's shirt and the cum on his fingers.

"Look in the mirror," Hunter said sharply.

Hunter brought his hand to Chris' flushed but beautiful face offering the cum covered fingers to Chris' waiting lips. Just as Chris' tongue snaked out to taste himself Hunter drew his fingers away and brought them to his own lips, savouring the salty taste.

"So sweet Jericho..."

Chris moaned before shaking his head in annoyance at his reaction. "You'd better go. Flair will have a coronary if he finds you in here half naked and thoroughly fucked."

Hunter nodded his head in agreement before swiftly dressing. Chris watched in silence as Hunter buckled his belt and walked to the full length mirror that adjourned the far wall of the locker room. He thought about pulling his wrestling tights back up but figured that the cum on his cock and ass would be uncomfortable and instead took them off fully, making a mental note to have a shower as soon as Hunter left.

"Look at my fucking shirt!" Hunter exclaimed as he eyed the evident wet patches caused by both his sweat and Chris'.

"So? It's a hot arena. No-one's gonna think twice about it Hunter."

Hunter turned to face Chris and scowled at him. "If anyone finds out about this..."

"They won't."

"..if they do," Hunter continued, "I'll make your life a bigger hell than I ever have before."

"Hunter," Chris said with a dramatic sigh and a cocky grin on his face, "I thought we'd discovered that fucking my ass was a damn sight more entertaining than beating it?"

Hunter picked up his jacket and opened the locker room door. He paused before leaving and turned to Chris again. "Entertaining or not you're still an arrogant little bastard," he paused, hazel eyes skimming over Chris' naked body and face as a sly grin once again danced over his lips, "Jericho."

"And you're still an asshole," Chris said, his blue eyes roaming over the sweaty suit and disheveled hair, "Hunter."

THE END