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Fic: House Call
Title: House Call
Disclaimers: Characters mentioned herein are property of WWE or TNA. No copyright infringement intended and no profits made.
Characters: Chris Jericho, Christian Cage, mentions of and brief cameo by Shane Helms, very brief mention of Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin and David Batista
Warnings: Fetish and roleplay of non-con situations, cross-dressing, graphic sexual content and dialogue.
Notes: This was originally posted as response to a request in a wrestling kinkmeme. Unbeta'd, sorry.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang twice. From his spot on the couch in the TV room, Chris croaked "Shane, can you get that?", and just in case Shane peeked in, Chris tightened the blanket around his shoulders. He wasn't cold. He wasn't really sick anymore either, but he'd rather fake stomach flu and watch Metalocalypse re-runs than waste the last free night he had before having to get back on the road by letting Shane drag him to "that 50% off sale at the scrapbooking store."
Shane would bitch, of course. Playing the victim was his favorite hobby--besides scrapbooking-- and Chris' unwillingness to stand around in an aisle at Micheal's and pretend to give a shit about puffy stickers was just the excuse Shane needed to go full-on drama queen for a few hours. Chris was done faking interest for the sake of a love he'd burned out on. He was done begging and pleading for wild times and having to settle for vanilla sex. He was done being angry about it. He'd bought a funky little place last time they swung through New York, and the renovations would be ready next month. He'd pack a few things--- Shane could keep the matchy-matchy furniture and museum prints and all the daisy-patterned shit from Pottery Barn-- and move on.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Christian, wearing a droopy raincoat, peeked in his head in the door. "How ya feelin' there?"
Shane was probably listening in so Chris replied in his best deathbed voice. "I'll pull through."
Christian lingered in the doorway, waiting for Shane's shadow to pass."I'm gonna hit the can, then I wanna show you something. It'll get you feeling better."
Chris chuckled and nodded knowingly. During his stint in TNA, Christian's camera phone had been busy in the locker room. Digital reproductions of Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin taking a shower were enough to restore the vigor of anyone. Behind the bathroom door, cupboards rattled and Christian muttered, and just as Chris was about to make a joke about Christian "wacking off in there, without him," Christian tottered into the room, dropped his raincoat and revealed an extremely tight, extremely short-skirted vinyl nurse's uniform complete with white hose and mile-high platform shoes. Chris' dick bulged.
Christian plunked a teeny-tiny nurse's cap onto his head. "How are we feeling, Mr. Jericho?"
"I'm, uh, wow."
Christian stared critically at him, hand on his hips, scowl across his lips. "My nurses have been complaining about you. It seems that along with your other aliments, you have a very bad case of grabby hands. I'll be managing your care from now on. I take care of my girls so that they can take care of their patients. I don't have any patience for bad boys."
Chris had to touch. Had to. His fingers skipped softly up Christian's thigh. "Maybe this badboy ought to teach you some."
With a disgusted snort, Christian knocked Chris' hand away. Then he dug through a doctor's bag, and came up wielding a toy syringe. "You wanna act like a pig, I'll stick you like one."
"Hey baby," Chris drawled, loving his role as the about-to-be-chastised skeeser. "You don't gotta get all snippy, just because I'm friendly."
His fingers marched north to tug at the hem of that oh-so short skirt. Christian ditched the syringe and latched onto Chris' throat with a grip as deadly as anything Taker dealt in the ring. He chokeslammed Chris into the couch. One ivory platform stomped down centimeters from his face. The shoe didn't seem feminine or delicate anymore. It loomed giant and threatening like an enemy spaceship. "I don't cotton to that shit in my ward."
"Sorry," Chris mumbled to the shoe. "I was just havin' a little fun."
"Fun is for the healthy." Christian made a melodramatic show of straightening his skirt-- like any amount of straightening could make that teeny scrap of vinyl look modest. "You, Mr. Jericho, are one sick puppy."
From his position splat-flat on the couch, Chris had an upskirt shot. Christian had went full-tilt with the dress and the shoes and the hose and it had Chris antsy. He wanted closer, just to know if Christian was wearing perfume. Did that dress feel as slick as it looked? Was Christian sweaty, hot and bothered beneath it? What kind of panties completed the costume? Chris wiggled, considering the pervy possibilities: lacy and flimsy and sheer. Perhaps, a skimpy thong, barely containing Christian's dick, Or a kitchy pair of crotchless panties, Chris' mouth went dry at the thought of hard muscle and silky nylon. Without thinking, he ran the pad of his thumb over the curve of Christian's ankle.
Christian grabbed the offending wrist and squeezed until Chris' fingers splayed. "I feel it's only fair to warn you, Mr. Jericho. What we do to patients who can't control themselves." Christian paused, smiling smugly with the knowledge gained from many, many, many late-night and drunken bitch-sessions of just how much Chris hated anything even remotely resembling the missionary position. "We strap them down on their backs until they can learn to behave themselves."
A second didn't pass. "I'll behave."
Christian wiped sweat from Chris' brow. "You seem warm. Let's get your temperature."
"Sit up, please," he added as he rooted in that doctor's bag again. His smile had a sinister edge as he produced a novelty dildo, one crafted to resemble an oversized--- very oversized-- thermometer.
"Open up," Christian prompted. "And say 'ahhhh'."
As the dildo slid across his lips, Chris realized his system was still a little weak. He gagged but Christian kept feeding him dildo. All the way to the base. Chris gagged again, so hard he shook. Christian brushed away fresh sweat from Chris' forehead. "That's good, Mr. Jericho. Take it down. Take. It down. Down. Yes."
Chris flailed while Christian stared at his watch and patted Chris' head absently,. "Hold your mouth closed. We won't get a good reading otherwise."
Despite the thrill, Chris coughed and sputtered. Christian frowned. Under the pretense of 'having to start all over", Christian slid the dildo in and out of Chris' mouth, thoroughly fucking his throat. "Gag all you want. It just lets me know I've got it in deep, where it belongs, where you need it... oh dear. This reading is no good. We're going to have to try with a more delicate instrument." Christian lifted his skirt. "Open up."
Chris blinked unbelievingly. The Perv Fairy had just granted his every kinky wish. There was Christian all gussied up in thigh-highs and garter belt and the flimsiest, little see-thru thong. Beneath the silk, Christian's dick hardened. Christian used two fingers to drag the thong down, just the tiniest bit. His cock twitched restlessly in its silky trap.
Chris didn't need to be cajoled into accepting this thermometer. He opened wide, stuck his tongue out even. Christian smirked, denying Chris dick while he wiped drool from Chris' lower lip. Chris kissed the dampened fingers, thrilled to the core that Christian would indulge his fantasies like this. He kissed each fingertip, moved up the back of Christian's hand to his wrist before Christian guided him back to his cock.
He waited impatiently for Christian to wrangle his cock out of those panties. And he smiled indulgently while Christian flashed it around like it was the biggest cock in the room (it was the second). He hinted with an "ahhhh", and Christian finally let him at it.
Chris snuck in a kiss before Christian pulled him forward by his hair, forcing a complete deepthroat. Chris snorted, tried to back off for a breath. Christian cuffed Chris' ear. "If you keep with these dramatics, you'll skew the temperature reading. We'll just let my cock soak. We'll get a good, usable median temperature that way."
Christian settled on the sofa arm, one leg bent at the knee, its shoe digging painfully into Chris' fingers. Christian lifted his other leg, brought it over Chris' shoulder and laid it on Chris' back. The heel of the platform dug in deep, scraping a ring-rope bruise. Chris squirmed. Christian reached over him. With flailing movements, he unbuckled the shoe.
It landed with a thud on the floor. Christian smoothly dragged his nylon-covered foot over Chris' back. Chris' dick lurched, and he moaned around a mouthful of cock. His hands slid beneath that teeny skirt and grabbed handfuls of Christian's asscheeks. The skirt, the garters, the nylons, all that disarrayed silk and vinyl and nylon only amplified, exaggerated the man underneath.
Chris shook with lust. This wasn't the first time he'd blown Christian. But, it had been a while since the last time--- monogamy was another of Shane's tedious hobbies. His cock pulsed as he re-discovered all of Christian's hot spots, the way he shivered when Chris dragged his tongue over the head of his cock, the way he revved his hips when Chris sucked at his favorite tempo. The way he quickly pushed Chris away, and lay against the sofa arm, panting and holding his dick to keep from shooting.
Chris glanced up at Christian, shit-eating grin decorating his face. "Is your thermometer broken?"
Christian scowled. "We're just not getting a satisfying result going about this orally. Hands and knees please, Mr. Jericho. We'll need to do this rectally."
Chris dropped as ordered. Christian ran his fingers along Chris' thighs, then pulled his pyjama bottoms down to mid-thigh. "You'll feel a cool wetness," Christian said briskly, and Chris immediately felt the lube Christian was talking about. "And then a poke."
Chris grunted, panting like an old dog as Christian entered him. He yelped like a kicked one when Christian swatted his backside. Christian settled in, balls deep and held still except for this hand massaging the spot where he had spanked Chris. Chris shuddered as arousal slithered through his nerves. He rocked his hips, inviting the fuck.
"Control yourself, Mr, Jericho." Christian warned. He ground his pelvis against Chris' ass. "I'm not reminding you again."
Chris clutched the couch cushion, buried his face into it to muffle the groans coursing through him. A mental image of the picture he must make---hands and knees, face down, ass high and being fucked by Christian in nurse's drag-- caused his cock to jolt. His balls suddenly weighed a ton and sweat ran down his thighs. Christian ignored Chris' cock, and gave his balls a hard squeeze.
"You like this, don't you, Mr. Jericho. Such an unrepentant slut, aren't you?. You just love spreading wide and taking any cock that happens along. Any kind of cock at all." Christian's teasing trailed off as he thrust deep.
Chris held tight to the couch's arm, and tried to hold against the fuck. His arms wobbled. He was worn down from being sick, and it had been forever since he'd bottom like this. Shane whined whenever Chris asked him to top, and on the very rare occasions when he did, it was never a glorious, rambunctious fuck like this--- Christian fucked him like he was trying to shove him off the couch. "Oh, I've repented a cock or two. Especially that time we got wasted and did a threesome with Batista, and he was like 'Feel my muscles. Feel these big bitches."
Christian threw his head back and his hips forward, and laughed. And having a giggle fit set them off. Christian came hard and long like he hadn't gotten off in weeks and Chris came like crazy all over the couch cushions. Shane would pitch a fit when he saw the stain, and there would be no way in Hell Chris would be able to suppress a grin while he did.
Christian snorted, rubbing Chris' face into the puddle of come. He withdrew, but not before smacking Chris' ass extra hard. "You seem healthy enough."
"Just the same, I think I should have weekly check-ups for a few months. Just to be sure."
Christian laughed and tossed Chris a towel for his face. He stripped out of the dress, lingerie and platforms, and stuffed them into the doctor's bag. After he changed into a grubby t-shirt and sweatpants, there was no evidence of their play... well, they were sweating rivers and Christian sported a post-coital chubby. But, they managed to look innocent enough when Shane came around, resting his head against the door frame in a way he must have seen Jennifer Aniston do on Friends "Hey Christian, do you want to go with us to the scrapbook store? Since we'll be near the mall, we can go to The Cheesecake Factory for dinner. Maybe see Marley & Me afterwards? How about it guys?"
Disclaimers: Characters mentioned herein are property of WWE or TNA. No copyright infringement intended and no profits made.
Characters: Chris Jericho, Christian Cage, mentions of and brief cameo by Shane Helms, very brief mention of Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin and David Batista
Warnings: Fetish and roleplay of non-con situations, cross-dressing, graphic sexual content and dialogue.
Notes: This was originally posted as response to a request in a wrestling kinkmeme. Unbeta'd, sorry.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang twice. From his spot on the couch in the TV room, Chris croaked "Shane, can you get that?", and just in case Shane peeked in, Chris tightened the blanket around his shoulders. He wasn't cold. He wasn't really sick anymore either, but he'd rather fake stomach flu and watch Metalocalypse re-runs than waste the last free night he had before having to get back on the road by letting Shane drag him to "that 50% off sale at the scrapbooking store."
Shane would bitch, of course. Playing the victim was his favorite hobby--besides scrapbooking-- and Chris' unwillingness to stand around in an aisle at Micheal's and pretend to give a shit about puffy stickers was just the excuse Shane needed to go full-on drama queen for a few hours. Chris was done faking interest for the sake of a love he'd burned out on. He was done begging and pleading for wild times and having to settle for vanilla sex. He was done being angry about it. He'd bought a funky little place last time they swung through New York, and the renovations would be ready next month. He'd pack a few things--- Shane could keep the matchy-matchy furniture and museum prints and all the daisy-patterned shit from Pottery Barn-- and move on.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Christian, wearing a droopy raincoat, peeked in his head in the door. "How ya feelin' there?"
Shane was probably listening in so Chris replied in his best deathbed voice. "I'll pull through."
Christian lingered in the doorway, waiting for Shane's shadow to pass."I'm gonna hit the can, then I wanna show you something. It'll get you feeling better."
Chris chuckled and nodded knowingly. During his stint in TNA, Christian's camera phone had been busy in the locker room. Digital reproductions of Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin taking a shower were enough to restore the vigor of anyone. Behind the bathroom door, cupboards rattled and Christian muttered, and just as Chris was about to make a joke about Christian "wacking off in there, without him," Christian tottered into the room, dropped his raincoat and revealed an extremely tight, extremely short-skirted vinyl nurse's uniform complete with white hose and mile-high platform shoes. Chris' dick bulged.
Christian plunked a teeny-tiny nurse's cap onto his head. "How are we feeling, Mr. Jericho?"
"I'm, uh, wow."
Christian stared critically at him, hand on his hips, scowl across his lips. "My nurses have been complaining about you. It seems that along with your other aliments, you have a very bad case of grabby hands. I'll be managing your care from now on. I take care of my girls so that they can take care of their patients. I don't have any patience for bad boys."
Chris had to touch. Had to. His fingers skipped softly up Christian's thigh. "Maybe this badboy ought to teach you some."
With a disgusted snort, Christian knocked Chris' hand away. Then he dug through a doctor's bag, and came up wielding a toy syringe. "You wanna act like a pig, I'll stick you like one."
"Hey baby," Chris drawled, loving his role as the about-to-be-chastised skeeser. "You don't gotta get all snippy, just because I'm friendly."
His fingers marched north to tug at the hem of that oh-so short skirt. Christian ditched the syringe and latched onto Chris' throat with a grip as deadly as anything Taker dealt in the ring. He chokeslammed Chris into the couch. One ivory platform stomped down centimeters from his face. The shoe didn't seem feminine or delicate anymore. It loomed giant and threatening like an enemy spaceship. "I don't cotton to that shit in my ward."
"Sorry," Chris mumbled to the shoe. "I was just havin' a little fun."
"Fun is for the healthy." Christian made a melodramatic show of straightening his skirt-- like any amount of straightening could make that teeny scrap of vinyl look modest. "You, Mr. Jericho, are one sick puppy."
From his position splat-flat on the couch, Chris had an upskirt shot. Christian had went full-tilt with the dress and the shoes and the hose and it had Chris antsy. He wanted closer, just to know if Christian was wearing perfume. Did that dress feel as slick as it looked? Was Christian sweaty, hot and bothered beneath it? What kind of panties completed the costume? Chris wiggled, considering the pervy possibilities: lacy and flimsy and sheer. Perhaps, a skimpy thong, barely containing Christian's dick, Or a kitchy pair of crotchless panties, Chris' mouth went dry at the thought of hard muscle and silky nylon. Without thinking, he ran the pad of his thumb over the curve of Christian's ankle.
Christian grabbed the offending wrist and squeezed until Chris' fingers splayed. "I feel it's only fair to warn you, Mr. Jericho. What we do to patients who can't control themselves." Christian paused, smiling smugly with the knowledge gained from many, many, many late-night and drunken bitch-sessions of just how much Chris hated anything even remotely resembling the missionary position. "We strap them down on their backs until they can learn to behave themselves."
A second didn't pass. "I'll behave."
Christian wiped sweat from Chris' brow. "You seem warm. Let's get your temperature."
"Sit up, please," he added as he rooted in that doctor's bag again. His smile had a sinister edge as he produced a novelty dildo, one crafted to resemble an oversized--- very oversized-- thermometer.
"Open up," Christian prompted. "And say 'ahhhh'."
As the dildo slid across his lips, Chris realized his system was still a little weak. He gagged but Christian kept feeding him dildo. All the way to the base. Chris gagged again, so hard he shook. Christian brushed away fresh sweat from Chris' forehead. "That's good, Mr. Jericho. Take it down. Take. It down. Down. Yes."
Chris flailed while Christian stared at his watch and patted Chris' head absently,. "Hold your mouth closed. We won't get a good reading otherwise."
Despite the thrill, Chris coughed and sputtered. Christian frowned. Under the pretense of 'having to start all over", Christian slid the dildo in and out of Chris' mouth, thoroughly fucking his throat. "Gag all you want. It just lets me know I've got it in deep, where it belongs, where you need it... oh dear. This reading is no good. We're going to have to try with a more delicate instrument." Christian lifted his skirt. "Open up."
Chris blinked unbelievingly. The Perv Fairy had just granted his every kinky wish. There was Christian all gussied up in thigh-highs and garter belt and the flimsiest, little see-thru thong. Beneath the silk, Christian's dick hardened. Christian used two fingers to drag the thong down, just the tiniest bit. His cock twitched restlessly in its silky trap.
Chris didn't need to be cajoled into accepting this thermometer. He opened wide, stuck his tongue out even. Christian smirked, denying Chris dick while he wiped drool from Chris' lower lip. Chris kissed the dampened fingers, thrilled to the core that Christian would indulge his fantasies like this. He kissed each fingertip, moved up the back of Christian's hand to his wrist before Christian guided him back to his cock.
He waited impatiently for Christian to wrangle his cock out of those panties. And he smiled indulgently while Christian flashed it around like it was the biggest cock in the room (it was the second). He hinted with an "ahhhh", and Christian finally let him at it.
Chris snuck in a kiss before Christian pulled him forward by his hair, forcing a complete deepthroat. Chris snorted, tried to back off for a breath. Christian cuffed Chris' ear. "If you keep with these dramatics, you'll skew the temperature reading. We'll just let my cock soak. We'll get a good, usable median temperature that way."
Christian settled on the sofa arm, one leg bent at the knee, its shoe digging painfully into Chris' fingers. Christian lifted his other leg, brought it over Chris' shoulder and laid it on Chris' back. The heel of the platform dug in deep, scraping a ring-rope bruise. Chris squirmed. Christian reached over him. With flailing movements, he unbuckled the shoe.
It landed with a thud on the floor. Christian smoothly dragged his nylon-covered foot over Chris' back. Chris' dick lurched, and he moaned around a mouthful of cock. His hands slid beneath that teeny skirt and grabbed handfuls of Christian's asscheeks. The skirt, the garters, the nylons, all that disarrayed silk and vinyl and nylon only amplified, exaggerated the man underneath.
Chris shook with lust. This wasn't the first time he'd blown Christian. But, it had been a while since the last time--- monogamy was another of Shane's tedious hobbies. His cock pulsed as he re-discovered all of Christian's hot spots, the way he shivered when Chris dragged his tongue over the head of his cock, the way he revved his hips when Chris sucked at his favorite tempo. The way he quickly pushed Chris away, and lay against the sofa arm, panting and holding his dick to keep from shooting.
Chris glanced up at Christian, shit-eating grin decorating his face. "Is your thermometer broken?"
Christian scowled. "We're just not getting a satisfying result going about this orally. Hands and knees please, Mr. Jericho. We'll need to do this rectally."
Chris dropped as ordered. Christian ran his fingers along Chris' thighs, then pulled his pyjama bottoms down to mid-thigh. "You'll feel a cool wetness," Christian said briskly, and Chris immediately felt the lube Christian was talking about. "And then a poke."
Chris grunted, panting like an old dog as Christian entered him. He yelped like a kicked one when Christian swatted his backside. Christian settled in, balls deep and held still except for this hand massaging the spot where he had spanked Chris. Chris shuddered as arousal slithered through his nerves. He rocked his hips, inviting the fuck.
"Control yourself, Mr, Jericho." Christian warned. He ground his pelvis against Chris' ass. "I'm not reminding you again."
Chris clutched the couch cushion, buried his face into it to muffle the groans coursing through him. A mental image of the picture he must make---hands and knees, face down, ass high and being fucked by Christian in nurse's drag-- caused his cock to jolt. His balls suddenly weighed a ton and sweat ran down his thighs. Christian ignored Chris' cock, and gave his balls a hard squeeze.
"You like this, don't you, Mr. Jericho. Such an unrepentant slut, aren't you?. You just love spreading wide and taking any cock that happens along. Any kind of cock at all." Christian's teasing trailed off as he thrust deep.
Chris held tight to the couch's arm, and tried to hold against the fuck. His arms wobbled. He was worn down from being sick, and it had been forever since he'd bottom like this. Shane whined whenever Chris asked him to top, and on the very rare occasions when he did, it was never a glorious, rambunctious fuck like this--- Christian fucked him like he was trying to shove him off the couch. "Oh, I've repented a cock or two. Especially that time we got wasted and did a threesome with Batista, and he was like 'Feel my muscles. Feel these big bitches."
Christian threw his head back and his hips forward, and laughed. And having a giggle fit set them off. Christian came hard and long like he hadn't gotten off in weeks and Chris came like crazy all over the couch cushions. Shane would pitch a fit when he saw the stain, and there would be no way in Hell Chris would be able to suppress a grin while he did.
Christian snorted, rubbing Chris' face into the puddle of come. He withdrew, but not before smacking Chris' ass extra hard. "You seem healthy enough."
"Just the same, I think I should have weekly check-ups for a few months. Just to be sure."
Christian laughed and tossed Chris a towel for his face. He stripped out of the dress, lingerie and platforms, and stuffed them into the doctor's bag. After he changed into a grubby t-shirt and sweatpants, there was no evidence of their play... well, they were sweating rivers and Christian sported a post-coital chubby. But, they managed to look innocent enough when Shane came around, resting his head against the door frame in a way he must have seen Jennifer Aniston do on Friends "Hey Christian, do you want to go with us to the scrapbook store? Since we'll be near the mall, we can go to The Cheesecake Factory for dinner. Maybe see Marley & Me afterwards? How about it guys?"
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Very nicely done, BTW, in putting forth the kinkiness without sacrificing an ounce of either character's humanity or sense of humor.
Solid work as always!
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I was trying for "insipid" rather than "vanilla", just because pro-kink doesn't have to mean anti-vanilla. But I couldn't go to far, otherwise Chris would have looked like an idiot for hooking up with him in the first place.
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You're much welcome!
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I don't usually dig crossdressing fic, I think because its usually one more way the bottom winds up basically being a teenaged girl with a dick, but I liked this a lot. Also, just echoing
I don't usually dig crossdressing fic, I think because its usually one more way the bottom winds up basically being a teenaged girl with a dick, but I liked this a lot. Also, just echoing <ljuser="one_more_cherry">, I loved that you can have kink and have a sense of humor, and that everyone actually has a good time (except Shane when he finds out about the couch).
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I had a wretched musing experience a long time ago. Because I'm bitter and petty and mean, I sulked over it forever (still going strong on the sulk). Eventually, because even I would rather be creative and writing instead of sulking and sniping, the whole drama morphed into the Soap Opera in My Head.
In short, it's because I'm petty.
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And I really enjoyed the role reversal of Christian in drag. I dunno if I'm wording this correctly, but I've always appreciated how you don't sacrifice a character to the kink. Christian putting on traditionally female clothing does not turn him into a parody of a woman. He's still the same snarky asshole, now with double-entendre action.
And the laugh! I love laughter and joking during sex, which I remember from "Carribean" and also loved. Sex is usually written as an exhausting grunt-fest or a physical declaration of love, and there are rarely any fics with characters having FUN with sex. What a refreshing piece of fic this is.
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no subject