1 comments/ 9175 views/ 3 favorites Chris-Crossed By: darkphoenix1 Kyra groaned softly, rubbing her sore neck and trying to focus on the papers that Mr. Bischoff wanted her to finish drawing up. At the thought of him she made a face. Not that she really minded doing this stuff, it was all a part of her job as his [somewhat invisible, at least camera-wise] assistant after all. But she'd already put in a long, action-packed day and had been heading home to the comfort of her warm cozy apartment for a nap, and a bath when he'd stopped her with this new task that couldn't wait- then he'd had to step out. And never returned. 'Must've been important, more so than his other calls at least,' she sighed to herself, 'Or he just wanted to head home for a break himself and didn't care,' some snarkier part of her added. Her eyes narrowed at that. "Long day?" a low, husky murmur came from the doorway in an almost concerned, questing note. Looking up with a start (having thought she was all alone here), Kyra saw the leading light [the cause] of her most feverish, forbidden fantasies- Chris Jericho. He was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, head tilted enough for a few long golden locks to shade his face and the lips tipped up in a sexy smile. Licking her own lips distractedly, she wondered how Trish could have ever turned her back on *that*, on *him*- for any reason. 'She must be a total fool behind that glittering surface.' Kyra cleared her throat. 'He's obviously here to see Mr. Bischoff about his upcoming championship match,' she noted mentally, dragging her errant gaze away from him and hoping he hadn't caught her eyeing him like that. The wistfulness in that thought surprised her. Mentally shaking herself, the auburn-haired girl nodded with a rueful quirk of her lips. "You're a bit late though, Mr. Bischoff already stepped out for the night," Kyra replied to his silent question as he took his gaze from her long enough to sweep the room. Chris shrugged almost carelessly with a wry smile of his own, "I guess I'll have to see him early tomorrow morning then. Real sore?" he asked, switching topics as his sharp eyes went to the hand now still kneading her shoulder. She half- sighed, half-laughed with another nod, hand dropping, "But no more than usual. I just have so much to do...." Her voice trailed off and one of her shoulders lifted in a demi-shrug. "Not that it's anything compared to what you guys go through in the ring," she tried to downplay it, eyes luminous. The bright, crystalline color of his eyes deepened, shone with a teasing light. "You mean playing around with those, nah. You got the tough part catering to Bischoff and being pushed around." His voice hinted maybe she was noticed after all as she thought of the push earlier by one of the angry athletes as they stomped through the halls, not looking where they were going, that had contributed to her aches. He raised a brow, his heated smile kicking up a notch. "But I could help you out there?" His offer coupled with that grin temporarily robbed her of breath. "I've been told I give great massages," his voice took on a coaxing note. As if she need much coaxing! Kyra swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and forced herself to act normally. She arched one perfect brow. "Oh really?" she teased. His lips curved further and her heart skipped a beat, her struggling not to think of those very lips moving hotly against hers, over her skin.... "You doubt me?" he queried wickedly, eyes dancing. "Come here and I'll prove it," he motioned to the leather couch adjacent to the door with the potted plants on either end. His look was decidedly sinful now. Her heart skipped another beat. Two. "I dunno..." she hedged, "I'm kinda in the middle of all this paperwork...." Chris grinned as if sensing the truth behind her excuse, "What have you got to lose? You've been working all day, longer than we have, and could use a break as much as anyone. Besides, I'm well versed in massage and relaxation techniques. I started them years ago and got into the practice myself." His tone became more cajoling, seductive even, and she bit the inside of her lip, forehead wrinkling in thought. Could she trust him? Or better yet, could she trust herself? Could she still manage to resist his charm once he had his hands on her? Because God knows she's wanted long enough, legs weakening and skin quivering slightly every time he even stepped into the room. As he was now. "Let me help. You have my word I'll be the perfect gentleman... unless you want me to be otherwise." The star wrestler and rocker smirked suggestively. Kyra laughed, she couldn't help it. "Okay," she allowed, eyes holding a new sparkle. The words filtered between them, oddly tame to have such a bearing on her emotions, and on Chris. "You won't be sorry," he grinned. And she wandered what had made him take interest in the first place. But he was already speaking again, "Now let's get started." Seeing him holding out his hand to her where she stood behind the desk, she rounded it to accept his lead and he sat them on the couch, positioning her so her back faced him. 'Was it too late to back out?' she wondered, quickly nervous again and biting her lip. 'Don't ruin this,' another voice in her head warned. Her body already felt like it was wired with live currents, suddenly ultra sensitive and primed to react though she stiffened her spine out of habit, anxious and full of tension. Then drawing her legs up, she braced against the cushion to get as comfortable as possible without being *too* comfortable. "Pull your hair up into that clip. Most of it's fallen out and I want to work with your neck muscles," Chris said, smoothing her hair back a bit with a light touch. Kyra found herself forgetting to breathe for a moment, anticipation taking hold without quite pushing her into the red zone, alarm was currently enough in easy range so she could just nod and do as he asked. Slipping his fingers around her throat, he eased her forward until she circled her head in a slow, smooth motion that made her neck creak and her muscles pull- while she took a deep breath and he gently worked out the knots at her shoulder. "This is a handy trick to. Easy to remember and you can do it anywhere." He sounded so pragmatic and professional, while the hint of teasing never left, that she almost smiled. Almost. There was something too pitifully desperate about the way she longed to be touched now. For a woman who'd sworn off sex (for good reason), she was playing with fire. Trailing his fingers beneath her chin, Chris directed her to deepen the motion until the muscles were pulling halfway down her back, a sensation that wasn't unpleasant. 'Okay, this is fine. This I've done a dozen times on my own,' she tried to school her thoughts. "I'm going to let you go. Keep that up until I tell you to stop." She did again as Chris asked while his fingertips trailed down her throat, caressing the muscles there with a touch that was still slow, smooth, *safe*. A gentleman's touch. A very skilled touch. 'Wow,' her mind echoed. "You're very good," she murmured. "Thank you." A pause. "How often did you say you get these," the twenty-three year old asked, licking her lips subconsciously. "Usually three times a week." "Will you take me along?" He chuckled, a rich burst of sound that gusted over her hair, ruffling wisps against her cheek. "I plan to perform these services on you myself." There seemed to be innuendo in that statement, but Kyra found she couldn't focus long enough to be sure. 'Oh boy.' The simple sound of his husky voice was dulling her wits and the steady motion of his hands overwhelmed her senses. A soft moan slipped past her lips, past her rigid control, and, struggling to pull her wits together and save herself, she tried to cover it with a cough- straightening where she had relaxed into his massage. "So... um... how 'bout them cowboys?" the redhead tried to joke, trying for casual and coming out a bit hoarse, nervous. She heard low laughter near her ear this time and suppressed a shiver. "It's baseball season." "Right," Kyra said breathily, "Then... uh... the Suns?" She tried to remember a team she'd heard about recently. "That's basketball," he responded in whisper- tones, growing amusement in his voice. And, as if sensing what she was doing, what she was going to say/do next, Chris added before she could open her mouth again, "Shh.. just enjoy this." Her efforts useless, she closed her mouth again with an inaudible snap, back arching a bit [rather helplessly] when his thumbs pressed in, deep and strong, making her weaken further. "You're so tense..." he noted in a tsking type of voice. The moving rhythm of his hands, the slow, smooth circles were making her head feel too heavy for her neck again- and the knots were loosening one by one. Kyra whimpered low in her throat this time. The man had magic hands, because she's never felt this way before in her life. 'Not that that meant anything,' she was quick to assure herself. Perhaps it was just a combination of the small meal she'd had delivered only an hour before or the wine she'd been drinking, or even the late nights spent working, too tense to sleep- but she could barely keep her eyes open now. Finally, the pro wrestler of her dreams trailed his fingers back under her chin and brought her movements to an stop before probing the muscles of her neck and the juncture of her shoulder blades again. "Much better. How do you feel?" "Drugged. I wonder if there really *was* something in the wine..." 'And oh my God, I can't believe I said that out loud! I really *must* be tired!' Chris only chuckled again, continued moving those magic fingers along her throat, his skin warm against hers, exploring with a gentle, persistent demand to relinquish tension, to trust him. And she did suddenly, though no logic in that particular response. Then again, with her head filled with clouds, how could she possibly expect herself to think clearly? Not part of the plan, not with this languor pouring through her, stealing her senses, making her drowsy. Her brain couldn't have been working right because she found her thoughts drifting to other women Chris might've used his magic fingers on.... with jealousy! Was massage part of his normal repertoire? Not that the man needed maneuvers. He was so completely personable, so handsome. A star, an athlete in prime condition, a rock musician with such a voice.... She'd bet he could charm a woman right out of her clothes without even trying... So why her? Why now? Why should it even matter? The green-eyed girl sighed privately, biting one already ravaged bottom lip. She was attractive enough, and he wouldn't be the first WWE wrestler to hit on her, but after Trish Stratus? That dove home how little she actually knew about him, she supposed. Sure, she'd seen him around the arena- and had watched him on the show like everyone else (far longer than she'd been even working here, she admitted), and she'd fixed up contracts, profiles and such involving him. But nothing she'd read or seen or felt had prepared her for the man himself. Even previous run-ins. Nor article or glimpse in the hallway, or polite chat here or there, could have ever warned her that all he'd have to do is smile at her a certain way and she'd turn to mush. Or that his touch would melt away the walls she'd been building around her emotions since her all-important decision to give up men after her last boyfriend. She hadn't expected meeting Chris Jericho, couldn't have known how she'd react to him if she had. And she *was* reacting. With each skim of warm fingers across her bare shoulders, each caress down between her shoulder blades, each squeezing, manipulating press of hands, she responded. 'God, I'm easy,' the thought bubbled in her brain. 'At least where he's concerned.' Her senses were blossoming to awareness even as her body was slipping into a coma. Kyra couldn't resist, not when Chris shifted his position, shifted her, leaning against the sofa back, not when he spread his legs to pull her against him. 'And I don't mind that one bit.' Some part of her brain warned her to protest, of course, but she could barely keep her eyes open, much less get a sound out. She roused only enough to do as he asked, to sink back into him until she could feel his steel thighs cradling hers, his tight stomach pressed to her back. All the while his hands continued to work, massaging, stroking, kneading. His touch was never intrusive, yet was solid enough to coax the tension from her muscles, to make her relax and prove that being curled up in the shelter or his hard body was exactly where she wanted to be.... ---------------------------- A/N: More coming soon! And stay tuned, it gets much hotter! And to those who'd asked for sequels, I'll try my best, I just haven't had the... inspiration for them yet. Chris-Crossed Ch. 02 A/N: And here, for all my fans, is the second and last part to 'Chris-Crossed', hotter and better than the first. Enjoy ;) I know I did, every second writing it... Oh, I forgot a disclaimer in the first part, I suppose I shouldn't have, but it wouldn't be 'fiction' or 'fan fiction' if we actually owned any of it, right? Though Chris Jericho, I wish I *did* own, even for a day... ~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The next time Kyra opened her eyes, two thoughts struck her simultaneously- one, the room was still dark with the haze of late night (lit only by a small desk lamp), and two, she was draped across a strong, warm male body that shouldn't have been in bed with her. It took her a sleepy moment to remember Chris's massage and realize where she was and that she must've passed out. Which in no way explained why he'd just slipped beside her/under her to curl up instead of waking her up or leaving her. Surely there was someplace else more important/comfortable for him to be if he'd wanted to? The thought left her slightly warmed inside and her cheeks flushed. They were both fully clothed of course- only her flowing, Mexican style skirt had ridden up to about mid-thigh while her off-the-shoulder embroidered peasant top had scrunched both up and down respectively. With Chris's shirt having fallen open in addition to it all, it left her head nestled in the curve of one broad shoulder, her cheek pressed against smooth, bare skin, and herself in total disarray. A very cozy picture if you didn't factor in that she was basically a glorified secretary/personal assistant and he was a star co-worker who had just been playing nice. Which left it somewhat awkward for her as well and doubts/insecurities were welling up in her slowly wakening mind. But in that still drowsy moment, and with him yet asleep, Kyra savored the feel of his body against hers, the way her hand lightly rested on the chiseled planes of his golden chest, the way her leg fit so snugly to his, the other hiked up across his thighs. Shocking image or not. She could almost pretend it meant something more. She'd never made it through the night with any of her former boyfriends either, so had never experienced anything to rival this indolent, sated feeling that deterred her from fully awakening. She stretched a bit, hand curling over his chest, the thick fans of sooty lashes falling back on snowy skin as she surrendered to the moment and the delicious newness of the experience sleepily, logic playing no part. Kyra wanted to languish in that dreamy state, just delighting in the heat and strength of the man against her. Her fantasy. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths, his heart beating a steady rhythm beneath her cheek, and right then she didn't want to question her right to be there and why he was there with her. He'd wrapped an arm around her shoulder and his hand rested just above her breast. No, she definitely wasn't entirely awake yet because that site only made her smile. "Morning." His sleep roughened voice jolted the quiet. His arm tightened around her [almost as if sensing she'd been about to move away], pulling her impossibly closer as he breathed in, seeming to take in her scent. And Kyra glanced up, into Chris's handsome face, realizing that not even slumber dimmed this man's star quality. "Morning," she said softly, hesitantly, in reply, almost an after-thought. There was something about his heavy-lidded expression that accentuated the way her breasts [thinly clothed] were currently brushing his bare chest, the way she seemed to fit perfectly into the crook of his shoulder. The way that problematic skirt left her thigh bared, molded her skin when she was lying down. And, unfortunately, re-arranging her skirt now would only let him know that she noticed. Instead, shaking her head almost indiscernibly, she made a move (viably this time) to get up and found herself thwarted again when he propped his chin on top of her head to stop her. "Don't go," he said, "I like lying here with you." This followed up by a slightly roguish grin. The redhead made a soft, helpless, noise in the back of her throat a few beats before a sound of frustration that that also part panicked fear and desperation, shifting. "You know, if someone else had come here looking for Bischoff late after the show too..." she trailed, dragging her full bottom lip between her teeth again, looking up as if to prevail on any sense of decorum he might have. Chris laughed softly, "Just one, Lita, and I redirected her. She knocked first, knowing Bischoff and his moods," he added, noticing her expression, "so I caught the door in time." She huffed slightly at his laugh, twisting to levy herself up a bit, but couldn't help a tiny smile as well (which he likely saw, considering his own look, though her response to him and her confusion about his plans/thoughts incited a fresh wave of anxiety. "You promised to be a gentleman." Her voice came out a bit breathy, her nature teasing, seeing the spark of desire flare in his eyes. "I have been, believe me," he responded in kind, with thick, sensuous tones, amusement at this play clear with the desire in his darkened eyes. The statement was so rich in implication and inherent wickedness that she slid her knee down his thighs, deciding she didn't need proof. The fact of that, on top of everything else, had her heart pounding at a thunderous pace so loud she was surprised he didn't hear and comment, and she almost shook with the rush of wanting that flooded her, finding it near impossible to hide it/master it and continue this act of flirty nonchalance. "No one to blame but yourself. I just signed on for a massage," she replied, trying for breezy and wryly amused, as was her specialty, but not pulling it off with her flushed skin, sparkling eyes, and temptuous smile. "Maybe this was part of my relaxation therapy," Chris came back with what sounded suspiciously like a purr, all flirt and wit, enjoyment plain. "What relaxation therapy? I agreed to a massaged. You put me in a coma," Kyra started flippantly and in control but ending more with a pout that wasn't entirely faked. Three years, now close to four, working wrestling superstars she'd admired endlessly (most of which she'd gotten experience turning aside flirtations from), and he was the only one who still affected her so. She couldn't as easily put away this attraction for him or call back the friendly but coolly professional persona she'd perfected here and end it cleanly, and his focused attentions were making her head spin, overloading her system and frying her logic as her body behaved without control. Before she could register what was happening, flipped over, used his powerful body to press her into the cushions. She rolled with him (having no choice of course), and stretched full-length beneath him, his long legs bracketing hers and holding her tight. Whipcord arms came around her and he levered himself up, staring into her eyes, the position pinning her hips beneath him (causing her to squeak) and drawing attention to the steely length of erection that supported his earlier [however teasing] claim of gentlemanly behavior. Her eyes were shockingly wide at this point and his were dancing, an almost predatory smile upon his sensual lips. "Chris!" His name slid out in a gasp, though Kyra wasn't sure what to say because her senses were overwhelmed with the feel of him against her. He continued to smile, his star quality on high beam until he nearly blinded her, the spark in his eyes positively devilish. Hungry. "Let me kiss you. I promise to be a gentleman and stop when you tell me to." Stop? The man had her surrounded. He blocked out the whole world with his body, awakened all those achy places he'd aroused previously with his magic hands. "Just one kiss, Kyra, to see if you like it." His voice was whisper soft, his breath hot on her lips. And then he lowered his head further towards her with exquisite slowness, slowing her a seconds' chance to retreat or to savor what was about to come. Decision by indecision. Whether this ended up just a game or not, the instant their lips met, Kyra knew this would be no kiss as she'd ever experienced one. Chris seemed to explode with emotion. His muscles gathered against hers, he tucked her into all those sculpted planes of his body, and enfolded her in a layer of hard, aroused male. Perhaps it was her state of semi-consciousness or perhaps it was just *him*, but she'd never felt the way she felt now. Not quite awake, but very, very aware, her every sense heightened, focused on this man in a way only consciousness could allow. The steady beat of his heart, the feel of his muscles draped luxuriously over her. Her every breath became his as his mouth prowled hers hungrily, coaxing her lips wide, thrusting his tongue inside, devouring, demanding a reply. Bursts of electrical *feeling* that sparked a thought that in her three and three-quarter years of working here, noticing him, maybe he'd noticed her too. That maybe if she'd dropped her mask of friendly, cool professionalism for him a little sooner... And she replied with the with the only answer that made any sense. Curling her arms around his neck, she kissed him back. He tasted of appreciation and boldness and she threaded her fingers into his hair, unable to entertain thoughts of resistance, or common sense, or conscience. At this point, with nothing but the night and a few pieces of clothing between them, with their mouths exploring and their hands discovering and their bodies pressed close, Chris Jericho was much more than a co-worker of sorts, and acquaintance or star. He was the only man who'd ever made her feel like this before. He traced her lips with his and then trailed along the curve of her jaw, feather-light kisses he must have known she'd welcome because she lifted her chin to offer her throat. Kyra wove her fingers tighter into his hair, clenching and unclenching, not hindering but not really encouraging, just leaving him to make his way where he chose. He chose to wedge himself between her thighs so only soft cotton separated them. He chose to prove that he wasn't the only one wanting here (not that he needed to!) by stroking that hot length against her and making her ride him to feed the growing ache inside. To a woman who'd never quite fit in, this was such a singular sensation. She felt right- as if finally, *finally* all the pieces fit together and she was exactly where she was supposed to be. No naively blind romantic notions, just for now...... It *did* fit. And Chris must have understood the power he wielded over her, because he kissed his way down the length of her neck. He licked the fluttering pulse-beat below her jaw. He explored every sensitive inch of skin between her ear and shoulder, and he kept trailing his mouth down. Kyra recognized that another opportunity to stop him was approaching as he nibbled his way along her shoulder, and down her bare arm- hot, moist kisses that sent goose bumps spraying over her skin, fed that ache between her legs even more- but even if she could've found the word 'no' someplace deep inside, she wouldn't have spoken it aloud. She didn't want to stop Chris from his sexy exploration, didn't want to do anything but hold her breath as he skimmed those light kisses along her ribs- whatever his reason for holding off his seduction until now. 'I wonder if Lita, Tory, or one of the other girls finally/actually broke down and told him how I wanted him,' she thought foggily. 'They were the only ones who knew... I think... and they *had* been bursting to say something or set something up, chastising me for holding back...' But Kyra didn't want to think of that now. She wanted nothing more than to savor this anticipation of wondering where he would nibble next... Darting his tongue over a nipple, Chris dragged at the cotton material with that delicious stroke, fired heat right through her top, and the strapless bra below. She gasped, a sound lost somewhere in his hair, but he must've heard because suddenly he was molding her breasts through the fabric, cupping their weight in his hands as if he'd waited forever to touch her. Kyra *had* waited forever. She'd never felt such a powerful longing, had never known her breasts to be such a touchstone for every nerve ending inside her. Then, she'd never really been able to lie still and relax long enough to find out. But as Chris flicked this thumb across her nipples, drawing them to peaks through the thin cotton, she knew a need that made her shake. Suddenly, he rolled off her to lie on his side, propped up on an elbow; for a breathless moment all she registered was the absence of his body, the cool emptiness where his erection had pressed so enticingly against her. But when he leaned over her, the redhead understood. He never slowed his trail of hot kisses as he pushed up her shirt to make way for his mouth on her skin. Here was another opportunity to say no. She arched into his touch instead. And he obliged her by freeing her from the tangle of cloth, baring her to his view. Her nipples puckered, but it was the expression on Chris's face and the sound of his throaty growl that pleased her most of all. She'd always thought her breasts were a waste as they were just big enough to make shopping for anything but separates a chore. True, she'd never be mistaken for a boy as her friend Lisa complained of, but given that she could never lie still enough to let a man appreciate them, Kyra never saw the point. But finally her breasts seemed to be serving a purpose other than to make her clothing hand awkwardly. Chris skimmed his hand across both peaks them caught a hard tip between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped. He met her gaze and smiled, then lowered his face to lavish the very same attention with his mouth. He explored with his tongue. He nibbled with his teeth. He sucked her deep inside his mouth until she squirmed. And then his other hand broke free to trail down her flat stomach, down, down... he brushed up her long crinkle skirt, and his strong fingers zeroed in on that sensitive bundle between her thighs. Here, again, was the perfect opportunity to say no. But with the pressure of his thumb right *there*, the only sound to slip from her lips was a moan. Closing her eyes, she abandoned herself to the feeling... And she needed him to keep touching her, wanted to tell him how important it was that he didn't stop working this magic with his mouth and hands. So she simply pressed her breast o his mouth, silently encouraging him, wanting him to feed this feeling inside her more than she wanted anything else. She wanted to experience *real* pleasure. She wanted to know what it felt like to want. And right now she did. It didn't matter that she was so aroused disaster should've struck. Or that she should feel to nerved out and antsy to lie still, to experience this. Or that the alarm in her head should be shrieking. Right now she felt drowsy and excited and good. Hands massaging, lips moving over her, and that steely hardness pressed against her, rubbing. And then Kyra came apart, just burst inside, a swell of blinding sensation that had sneaked up on her, dragging a breathless moan from her lips, a moan that sounded just like a sob. A *real* orgasm. Her first. Chris propped himself up on an elbow again, his smile telling her how much he enjoyed the site of her, nearly naked and spread beneath him as he watched her come back to earth. And while she struggled to catch her breath, she took in the satisfaction on his face, the dark, heavy-lidded eyes. The chiseled features that had softened around the edges. "I promised you a kiss to see if you liked it," he finally sad, his voice a husky whisper between them, a roguish grin crossing his sensual lips once more. "Did you?" ~*~*~~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* A/N: Well fans? What did you think? Did you like the kiss? ;) If you did, don't worry, though this is the last chapter to this work, I *will* be doing a sequel, I already got part of it written so it shouldn't be too far behind. Just don't forget to review and let me know about it, k? Later, Phoenix