Steve Austin sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing some of the tension swelling behind his eyes. He opened them again and stared at the stack of papers still waiting his attention and sighed. Being a co-general manager wasn't all fun and games as he was quickly finding out. He should have dumped this shit on Eric's desk and made him deal with all the contracts. After all, he was more suited to the administrative side of things than Steve was.

He pushed away from the oak desk and swiveled his chair around to face the single window in the small room. It looked out on the nearly deserted parking lot of the arena. A small group of stragglers stood under one of the tall halogen lights chatting and smoking. He couldn't tell who they were from this distance and he didn't really care. He wished he could just go back to his hotel room and get some sleep. It had been a hell of a night with Jericho being the main thorn in his side. He'd been able to keep his cool in the face of the blonde's constant diatribes about cracking him, but it had been the last straw when he'd come out during the match between Al Snow, Coach, J.R. and Jerry Lawler, causing the latter team to lose, consequently losing their jobs as announcers for Raw. When he'd heard Jericho's arrogant, smug comments referring to his cracking him by his interference in his friend's match, he'd gone ballistic, thrashing his dressing room, cursing and raging until his voice became ragged with fury.

He'd calmed down, however. He'd reacted exactly the way Chris wanted him to, he realized. He wouldn't give him the continued satisfaction of seeing that what he'd done 'cracked' him any more than it had. He'd show that smug bastard that he was made of much sterner stuff.

As he stared up at the small wedge of night sky he glimpsed from his position, he contemplated just how he could retaliate. How could he reverse the damage Chris had done, thereby negating all his efforts to break him.

He leaned his head against the cracked leather of the chair back and slowly grinned as a plan formed in his mind. It was incredibly simple. He'd simply order a rematch between the four combatants and make sure that the outcome was very different, thus giving old J.R. and King their jobs back and canceling out Chris's little ploy. He laughed softly as his burgeoning headache vanished as if it hadn't been. He stood up from his seat and gathered up his papers, stuffing them haphazardly into his briefcase before planting his baseball cap on his smooth-shaven head and left the room, whistling tunelessly.

~****~

A Week Later

At the beginning of the broadcast of Raw, Steve Austin strode purposefully to the ring, grabbing the mike from the ringboy and shouting for his music to be cut. Without much preamble, he announced that there would be a rematch featuring Snow and Coach versus J.R. and King. He was pleased by the stunned looks on the faces of Coach and Snow, giving them a double bird before leaving the ring.

He'd no sooner set foot in his temporary office before he was accosted by Chris Jericho.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled angrily.

"I'm about to open me a beer and watch the show," Steve drawled, unperturbed by Chris's rage. In fact, he was inordinately pleased by it. "Ya got a problem with that?"

"Don't play games with me, Austin," he snapped, stalking into the room and planting his hands on the desk, glaring daggers at Steve who'd just settled comfortably into his seat, beer in hand. "You can't give them a rematch. They lost. Period. Finito."

"Funny, but I distinctly recall standin' in the middle of the ringing and orderin' a rematch." Steve took a long swallow of his drink and smirked sweetly into Chris's reddening countenance.

"Eric won't let this happen," Chris spluttered, straightening and pacing the floor in front of the desk, raking his hand through his hair, aggravated. "You can't do this without consulting him first."

"Last I checked, I have all the right in the world to order a match without Bitch-off's permission," he drawled, his eyes focused on the monitor on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, planting his feet on the blotter, crossing his ankles and sipping from his can. "Look, why don't ya go harass someone else? I ain't got time for ya now."

Chris growled a wordless curse, tempted to launch himself over the desk and throttle the cocky bastard, the idea of watching Austin's eyes bulge with fear and panic sending a sliver of dark pleasure down his spine. But he restrained himself. He could sense that the man was just waiting for him to give him cause to kick his ass and he definitely wasn't completely sure he would come out the victor in the encounter. He controlled his wild rage with iron strength and simply turned and stalked to the door, vowing to break Austin if it took the rest of his career.

"Oh, by the way, Jerky," Steve glanced over at Chris, who'd halted and glared back at him. "if you interfere in the matchup…you're suspended."

"You fucking asshole!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing as sparks flew from the cobalt depths. "I will finish you, Austin. Mark my words," he said in a soft, lethal tone. "I will shatter you into so many pieces they'll never be able to put you together again." With that, he whirled on his heel and strode from the room.

Steve watched him go, unable to prevent a shiver of uneasiness from chilling his spine. He certainly wasn't afraid of the blonde, but the look in his eyes did give him pause and he decided to be a bit more cautious when walking in dark places and to keep alert at all times. He wouldn't put it past the son of a bitch to ambush him when he least expected it.

~*****~

The show went smoothly up until the match between the commentators. Steve, sat at ringside to prevent any outside interference from anyone…other than himself, of course. For a while, it looked as if Coach and Snow would once again prevail, pulling out all the stops, cheating every chance they got, never missing an opportunity to deliver a cheap shot. At one point, Steve rose and strolled around the ring, seemingly just getting a better look at the match. But at one point when Coach was in the ring with Lawler, Steve casually reached out as Coach hit the ropes to rebound and tripped him up…only to stumble into a DDT, delivered a little sloppily but good enough to lay the dark announcer out cold. Lawler quickly tagged in J.R., telling him to quickly cover the unconscious man. The ref pounded a three count before Snow could dive in and prevent it. Steve immediately climbed into the ring, helping J.R. to his feet and raising both his and Lawler's hands in victory, to a thunderous ovation. Snow, incensed at losing, charged Steve, who quickly dispensed with him with an almost negligently applied Stunner, leaving him laid out beside his partner, who was still out cold. One of the ring attendants, having been instructed earlier, scrambled into the ring, holding a cooler of beer. Steve drew out one for the three of them and they celebrated in the ring for the next few minutes, toasting beers and playing up to the crowd.

Chris hurled the mug of coffee he'd been drinking from at the wall, the gunshot explosion of ceramic and dark brown splash of liquid dripping down the walls not satisfying his roiling rage. He began throwing things around the room, having a world-class temper tantrum that surpassed any of Christian's Oscar performances. Seeing Austin celebrating in the ring aggravated him to no end. He started toward the door, ready to stomp down to the ring and beat the Texan into the canvas. But, as he glared at the monitor and Steve's hateful, arrogant smirk, another idea flashed into his mind and he was suddenly calm as he pondered and considered every angle of his idea and his smile overshadowed Steve's with the icy malevolence in it. "Oh, Austin, you will `be broken…tonight. I'll make sure of that."

~*****~

Steve waved goodbye to a couple of the other wrestlers that had hitched a ride with him in his car to the hotel. He left them to go party in the lounge while he yawned and jabbed a finger at the "UP" button on the lift. When he reached his floor, he strode down the corridor to his room, anxious to strip down and get into bed. It had been a stressful and tiring night and sleep seemed the most wonderful thing in the world right then.

Stepping into his hotel room, he tossed his keycard on the dresser, dropping his gym bag atop it.. He was just about to saunter to the bathroom when he abruptly saw a myriad of sparkling stars about a second before agony exploded through his head. He went down like a bag of wet sand, out cold.

Chris Jericho stood over him, casually slipping the blackjack he'd wielded on Steve back into his jacket pocket. He used his booted foot to shove the unconscious man onto his back, staring expressionlessly down at him for a long moment before moving around so he could grab him beneath his arms and haul him up onto the bed. Once he had him where he wanted him, he lifted Steve's arms above his head and snapped the steel cuffs around his wrists, compliments of Hunter and his bag o' tricks. He had a few other little surprises from that bag that he planned on introducing to Austin as soon as he came to.

In the meantime, he deftly relieved the limp man of his clothes, dumping them in a chair before striding to the bathroom where he filled a glass of water. He returned to Austin's side, throwing the cold liquid into his face.

Steve spluttered and coughed as he felt water flood into his nostrils and mouth. He shook his head, eyes blinking open, fighting to focus. "What the-?" He stiffened when his eyes narrowed on Chris hovering over him, his blue eyes glittering with vicious glee. "Ya crazy bastard," Steve hissed, yanking on his bonds, fury radiating from every line of his body. "Oh, ya done done it now. I'm gonna stomp yer ribcage into yer spine!"

Chris set the empty glass on the nightstand and crossed his arms over his chest. "That should be interesting to see, what with you all chained up and all. Go on…I'm not going anywhere. Whip my ass, Austin."

Steve was incensed by Chris's taunting and dug his heels into the mattress and used all of his leverage to try and wrench his cuffed wrists from the usually cheap wood of the hotel headboards. Unfortunately, this hotel seemed to have a bit higher standard in their furniture, for the slats he was attached to didn't even creak at the pressure. It was when Steve had sagged back onto the bed that he realized he was naked. He lifted his head to verify it and then his gaze snapped to Chris with suspicion. "Why in fuck am I naked?"

Chris sauntered to the other side of the bed where he set up his display of items he planned to use throughout the evening. "I wanted to make sure there was nothing between your flesh and just what I have in mind."

Steve tried to see what Chris was fondling in a black case on the matching night table, but the lid blocked his view. "Jus' what the hell you think yer gonna do?"

"Oh, you'll see…rather, feel quite soon," his almost pleasant tone was suddenly dropped to sink into a sibilant whisper. "Turn over."

"Fuck you, asshole!"

Chris grinned, actually glad of Steve's resistance. It would make the game that much more fun. With a lightning quick movement, he pulled out a rosewood cane, still sporting vicious looking thorns, varnished until it shone and gleamed in the soft glow of the lamps. The whirr of wood cutting air filled the room mere seconds before it struck flesh. His grin broadened at Austin's howl of surprise and pain, arching at the blow. He watched the trickle of blood from several small punctures where the points of the thorns bit into his chest. A reddened welt striped about an inch or two below his nipples. "I said turn over, or I might have to be a little less polite."

Fuck you!"

Another weal appeared across his ribs, his howl a degree louder. "Do it, or I might decide to strike you somewhere a bit more sensitive."

"I'll kill you, you-"

Another sizzle of air and snap as wood hit flesh, another cry of pain. "That was just below your navel, Austin. Take a wild guess where the next blow will strike?"

Steve's sense of self-preservation kicked in and he swiftly scrambled to twist himself onto his stomach, groaning as his open wounds rubbed against the starched cotton of the sheet, making them sting. "Damn ya! Ya are so dead when I get free."

"Maybe, but you're not free yet and I plan to have a little fun and a little revenge. Oh, by the way, this is gonna hurt me more than it will you…wait a minute! No it won't!" He chuckled as he brought the rosewood cane down across his back in rapid, successive blows, not giving him a chance to calm down from one before another was slashing white hot welts over his skin. "Yes, Austin…I'm gonna make you beg for mercy," he snarled as he tossed the cane aside and plucked out a riding crop, climbing onto the bed to kneel beside him. He began whipping him with gusto, relishing Steve's yells and groans of pain, interspersed with curses and, the most sweetest sound of all, pleas for him to stop. Of course, he ignored the latter. He had no plans on letting up until Steve Austin was a bitter, broken, sniveling wreck.

Steve clutched the chains attached to his cuffs, pulling on them as he arched and bucked, screams of pain cracking his voice until he was barely able to cry out. When the crop was traded for a flogger, he merely lay there, moaning and squirming, wordlessly pleading for Chris to stop, swearing he would make the blonde bastard pay.

Chris paused to catch his breath, rubbing his shoulder, easing the slight strain from his blows. He slowly ran his fingers over the welted flesh of his back, buttocks and thighs, some oozing blood. In these he scraped and rubbed his fingers into the wounds, the salt from his fingertips making them sting and throb.

"Are you finished?" Steve grated, refusing to allow the tears that pricked the backs of his eyes to fall.

"Are you kidding?" Chris laughed amusedly, smacking his ass sharply before reaching into the case and withdrawing a paddle with stiff bristles on one side and thick rubber on the other. He slapped the rubber side against his own palm, enjoying Austin's slight twitch of reaction at the loud thwack. "I'm just getting started, Rattlesnake." He lightly drew the bristle side over his flank, seeing the slight shudder and his move to squirm away from the sensation. He Flipped sides and ran it over his buttocks, switching back and forth until Austin wouldn't be able to anticipate which side would touch him next. "Yeah, baby…this is only the beginning."

Steve tensed, biting his lip savagely, waiting for Chris to bring the paddle down on him, for he had no doubt that's what he planned to do. Though he braced himself, he still wasn't prepared for the hot burn of the paddle smacking brutally, the bristles pricking his skin cruelly. He grunted, his teeth sinking into his lip so hard that the flesh split, fresh blood streaming down his chin. His body involuntarily ground into the mattress, then twisted in his bonds, trying to roll away from the merciless blows. He managed to lever himself onto his side, but Chris didn't even pause in his paddling. He grabbed ahold of Steve's thigh to hold him in place and began bringing the bristle-side paddle down across his ribs and hip, making him struggle to evade him.

Chris, in a sudden burst of strength, shoved him fully onto his back, straddling his thighs, the paddle coming down with vicious intent on his chest and stomach. "Had enough, Austin? You ready to bow down to me yet?"

Steve pried his eyes open to stare glazedly up at him, panting harshly, body twitching in pain. "Fuck ya, ya son of a whore."

Chris stilled, his face a blank mask as his cobalt blue eyes stared intently into Steve's sky blue ones. "Oh," he whispered gently, though his eyes were now becoming a fiery glitter as his rage simmered just beneath the surface. "I think I'm going to have to punish you quite severely now."

"Ya can't break me, Jerko," he rasped, his attention on the paddle, which Chris was idly tossing it from hand to hand, twirling it as he did so. He tensed his stomach, anticipating a surprise swipe at him to catch him off guard. "I'm too much man for ya."

Chris's amusement rose at that, laughing quietly as he set the paddle aside and dug his hand into the case once more. "Is that so, big man? Well, how much do you want to wager that I'll have you broken in like a prime little bitch by the end of the night, hmmm?"

"Eat shit, Jericho."

"So classy, Austin," Chris said sarcastically, drawing his hand back to reveal what he had in his hand. He just loved the expression that spread over his face as he realized what he held and just what he was going to do with it. He smiled brightly at him when Austin's gaze snapped to his.

"Do it and I swear to ya, I'll kill ya."

Chris shivered deliciously at the threatening tone, knowing there wasn't anything Austin could do to him. "Aww, baby, all you had to do is just ask." He smirked as he plucked the lube from the side pocket of the case and lathered up the monstrous dildo, slowly spreading the gel over the smooth head, watching Steve's eyes and expression, almost giggling at his look of disbelief and exquisite uneasiness…which increased a hundred fold when he scooted down so he was kneeling between Austin's legs. He instinctively tried to snap his legs closed, but Chris was too quick for him and forced them wide, using his knees to brace them open. "Deep breath, Austin." That was the only warning he got before Chris thrust two of his slicked fingers into his entrance.

Steve gasped sharply at the invasion, body bowing off the bed, but was ground down again by Chris's hand planted in his abdomen. "Ya fucker!"

Chris half-smiled at him as he withdrew his fingers and plunged them deep again, scissoring them to stretch him open for the dildo. "Yeah, that's pretty accurate. I'm fucking you with my fingers, and I'm about to ream your ass with an extra-large rubber cock. Come on, now, Austin," he hissed conspiratorially, rocking in and out in a sensual rhythm, not quite touching his prostate, but skirting the boundaries. "don't tell me you've never been ridden good and hard. I mean, you're ass sure is tight and hot enough."

Steve attempted again to extricate himself from the violation, to no avail. "Stop it! Stop it, Jericho!"

"Oh, you ready for the main event then?" he asked, chuckling at Austin's glare. "Well, actually, I've decided not to tear you apart with that fake dick." He paused to relish the look of relief on Austin's face before he continued. "Instead," he removed his hand from his middle and began to unfasten his pants, reaching out for the lube, yanking out his fingers, not catching the wince of pain from Austin. "I've decided to give you the real thing."

Steve gasped, shaking his head in denial, his cheeks flushing as he realized what Chris was about to do. "No. I'll fucking murder ya. This is…is-" He couldn't even bring himself to say the word. "No!"

Chris, done preparing himself, only lowered his jeans enough so they were not in his way. "Oh, yes, Stevie." He shifted into position, clutching his hips to control their bucking. "Another deep breath, lover," he murmured mockingly before slamming viciously into him, full-length.

Steve's hips tried to rise off the bed, the heels of his feet digging uselessly into the mattress as he attempted to squirm away from the horrific agony coloring his vision red, oblivious to the fact that he was whimpering and mewling and begging for him to stop.

"Ahh, fuck…mmm, so damned tight, Austin," Chris moaned, his head falling back as he allowed himself to savor the heat and snugness for a long moment before he lowered his head to look intently at Austin once more, a half-smile on his lips. "I like the way you beg, baby. Lemme hear some more, huh?" He pulled out and rammed into him again, not allowing the other man a chance to protest. He set a fast and savage tempo while his slickened fingers lightly circled his balls, stroking over his scrotum, tickling up the underside of his straining cock. "See? I knew you were enjoying yourself. I mean, you wouldn't have such a pretty hard-on if you weren't." He reached for the flogger again and trailed the buttery-soft leather ends over Austin's chest, circling his nipples. He hummed when he shifted the angle of his thrusts, prodding his prostate and eliciting an involuntary yelp. "Like that? How 'bout this?" He wrapped a fist around Austin's cock and drew it hard up the stiff length.

"Ahhh!" Steve bowed up, his mind going completely blank as a white-hot shaft of intense pleasure shot through him, leaving him shuddering in shock…but only for a moment. He was moaning loudly at the second stroke, hips rocking up to seek more.

Chris found himself becoming fascinated by Austin's sudden shift from anger and pain to desire and frustration. Oh, yes, he could see the frustration building under the surface as his body writhed and strained for more. He leaned over him, bracing his free hand beside Austin's head, his hair, long since come loose from his band, fell forward to curtain their faces. "You know, you're a hot little piece, Austin," he whispered, bringing the flogger up to nudge Steve's chin around so he could look into his eyes. "Too bad I didn't do this a lot sooner, huh? I would have learned then that you were a prime piece of ass, and perhaps I could have nipped your wild ego trip in the bud way before this." Steve twisted his head away from him and Chris allowed it, trailing the ends down his neck to his collarbone. He slowed his thrusts, easing into him in a smooth glide, a low rumble of pleasure emanating from his throat. He lowered his head, slowly drawing his tongue up the taut cord of Steve's neck, laving the spot just below his jaw. He could taste the salt and musk of his skin, inhaling the aroma of man and lust. "Admit it, Austin," he breathed against his moist flesh, lightly nipping his earlobe. "You like this...you want this." He trailed his tongue across his cheek to the corner of his mouth, leaving behind a line of wet heat in his wake. "You need this, Austin. Tell me I'm right."

Steve tried to turn his head as far away from Chris's tormenting tongue as he could get, weakly tugging at the cuffs, not really expecting to escape. The worst had already happened. He just squeezed his eyes shut and prayed he would finish soon. He swore to himself that when he was free, he'd pay Chris back in spades, but it was hard to think of revenge when the damned bastard was whispering obscene, yet strangely erotic things into his ear as his body undulated above and within him. He found himself shifting beneath him, only to arch into his probing thrusts. He tried not to, tried to remain still and unresponsive, but his body betrayed him again and again. Each time he thought he would succeed in not reacting, Chris would touch or say something to him that had him moaning reluctantly and him wrapping his legs tighter around him.

"You were made for this, Austin," Chris said hoarsely, realizing he was still holding the flogger in one hand. He pushed himself back up onto his knees, sitting on his haunches, momentarily pausing in his languid thrusts to settle Steve's hips in the cradle of his spread thighs. He sat there, waiting for Steve to look his way. The moment he did, he simultaneously brought his arm down in a vicious arc and slammed himself into Steve forcefully, stabbing his prostate brutally.

Steve sucked in his breath sharply, then let loose with a high-pitched wail, bucking and twisting in his bonds, unsure if he was trying to escape or trying to get closer. Either way, Steve was caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure and pain that he couldn't get free of. All thought fled, only animal instinct operating now as he bowed up into both the hard lunges and savage lashes of the flogger.

"That's right, Austin," Chris hissed, his free hand grasping the other man's straining cock and pumping it fiercely. "You're such a slut, aren't you? Mmmm, You love being the bitch...my bitch, don't you?"

Steve could only shake his head helplessly and groan,, soft, almost inaudible pleas bursting from his lips.

Chris growled harshly as he felt himself nearing release. his tempo quickened as the blows slowed until, with a ferocious curse, he hurled the flogger to the floor and, leaning over Steve, grabbed the headrails just above the cuff chain. He used the leverage to pound more powerfully and faster, encouraging Steve to come with hissed insults and demands.

Steve gasped and whimpered, straining against Chris, pelvis grinding, inner walls clamping until, with a breathless bellow, he came apart, his body becoming as rigid as a board while his insides quivered and spasmed wildly.

Chris felt the scalding splash of Steve's release against his stomach and snapped, all semblance of control gone as he plunged and drove and rammed into the other man, in a frenzy to feel that instant of perfection. His damp hair whipped about his face, breathing labored and rapid. He nearly shattered the windows as his shriek of triumph finally erupted from his throat as Steve's internal muscles squeezed and milked every drop from him. He collapsed on top of Steve limply, all strength deserting him for the moment, gasping for air, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs.

After a long while, their breathing returned to a modicum of normalcy. Steve lay deathly still, his head turned to the side, away from the blonde's lazy scrutiny. He could feel him staring a hole through him, but he refused to look, refused to even acknowledge him in any way, wanting to pretend this whole episode hadn't happened and that he was just having the world's most realistic nightmare.

"This isn't over, Austin," Chris whispered as he pulled himself free of Steve and rolled to the edge of the bed. "This isn't over at all." He stood up and stretched like a sleek cat before yanking on his clothes, then gathered up the items he'd used on Steve and shoved them back into the bag. It in hand, he stood beside the bed, considering leaving Steve like this, but changing his mind at the last minute. He plucked the cuff keys from off the nightstand and reached over, slipping the key in the locks and snapping the steel cuffs open. He waited to see what he other man would do. After all, they didn't call him the rattlesnake for nothing. But Steve merely lay there, unmoving, arms resting where they'd fallen. He dropped the keys on the bed and ran his fingers over the bald pate, feeling him flinch as if struck. He was pleased by this.

"Austin…sweet little Austin, this is just the beginning. I'll have you heeling like a good little bitch very soon." Without another word he straightened and went to the door. Opening it, he glanced back at the unmoving man, his eyes filled with sparkling satisfaction.

"Sweet dreams, Austin," he murmured softly before letting the door swing shut behind him.

On the bed, Steve Austin curled up into as small a ball as possible, burying his face in the pillow and did what he hadn't done since he was a small boy; he wept bitter tears, vowing that he'd never give Chris what he wanted. He may have won this little skirmish, but he'd be damned if he allowed Chris Fuckin' Jericho break him. He just had to figure out a way to avoid getting into this situation again. A shudder of unease and apprehension racked him as he wondered if he could withstand Chris's methods another time. A hot wave of shame and self-loathing washed over him as he recalled the way he'd responded to Chris rough treatment. He buried his face into the pillow, his scent filling his head like a drug.

In a burst of disgust, he bounded off the bed and into the bathroom where he turned on the shower as hot as he could stand and scrubbed himself until he felt raw and tender. But when he'd dried himself, he could still smell him, clinging to him and the air like a presence. He went to the mini fridge and pulled out the two six-packs of Bud he'd bought earlier, sitting in the chair by the window and set out to get himself as drunk as possible. It was the only way to forget for a while.