Niki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
niki_chidon) wrote2007-01-02 12:28 am
niki_chidon) wrote2007-01-02 12:28 am
Fic: Episodes of Getting Laid III: Words
Title: Episodes of Getting Laid III: Words
Author: Niki
Fandom: WWE
Pairing: Edge/Jericho
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Rating: PG.
Notes: First half is Edge's POV, the second Jericho's.
Summary: Feelings must out.
Words
- - - - -
© Niki 2004
Edge:
It's getting increasingly difficult to keep the words back.
It's been good this time. I got my wish. We've managed to keep this up for weeks now. And he's been… nice. I know, I know, but he has. We spend time together again. Hanging out, sparring, the works. And we wake up together more often that not. Not actually in each other's arms, mind you, but the same bed is enough for me at the moment.
And sex, needless to say, is fucking great. But that's exactly the problem. Lying in bed, in that post sex bliss where he's glued to my side, too exhausted to move and slowly falling asleep, I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything.
I have no illusions whatsoever that my feelings would be returned. I don't even believe he could handle my emotions if he knew about them.
So here I am again, holding him as he's falling asleep next to me. Looking at his face, the strong handsome features, so peaceful for once, and hearing the echo of the words inside my head, my heart, my whole being. It hurts to be so close, and know there will never be more.
He's asleep now, and I'm unable to keep quiet anymore. "I love you, Chris," I whisper, and kiss his forehead softly.
Then I get up from the bed, silently, trying not to wake him, and go to the bathroom.
I stare at the mirror, seeing only his face. I can't do it. Can't spend another night in his bed. Must go to my own room, to get some distance...
Bullshit.
-------------------------
Jericho:
Did he just say that?
Wide awake, I stare at the closed bathroom door. My forehead tingles where his lips touched it.
He loves me?
He loves me.
Part of me wants to jump up from the bed and dance a little victory dance around the room.
Part of me wants to laugh at him, use his weakness for my benefit.
Part of me is so scared it wants to run away in panic.
Part of me is angry, angry with him for trying to complicate what we have with emotions.
Part of me is hurting for the sadness audible in his voice.
So what do I do?
I close my eyes and pretend I'm still asleep.
Adam comes back to the bed, and I roll in my 'sleep', 'accidentally' ending up half-hugging him. My head is resting against his chest, and I feel him shift to a more comfortable position.
How do I feel about this? The sound of his heartbeat under my ear is oddly soothing, calming down the part of me that is panicking. When his hand starts to caress my hair softly it creates a funny feeling behind my abdominal muscles.
I'm comfortable here. I've been comfortable with what we've had. I don't want to complicate it. I don't want him to start expecting what I cannot give, I... he's not expecting anything.
He's never going to tell me anything. The sadness in his voice testifies to that. He will take what I give, and give only what I want to take. Damn that man!
Slowly his hand stops its movement, and his breath evens out. When I'm sure he's asleep I raise my head to look at him.
There's no sign of sadness on his face now.
He's easily the best looking person to ever sleep in my bed - after me of course. He's ridiculously good-looking; handsome and cute at the same time. His body is gorgeous. He's a great lover. He's fun to hang around with. He's a great sparring partner. And he loves me.
But I don't love him. I don't. I don't need him to love me.
He's wearing his pants. He wasn't going to stay, yet here he is. I play the whisper again and again in my head. "Chris, I love you."
He was, is, never going to tell me. Probably doesn't know how I'd react. Hell, I don't know how I'd react. I don't know how I feel.
I didn't want to know. And I don't love him.
I don't.
Author: Niki
Fandom: WWE
Pairing: Edge/Jericho
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Rating: PG.
Notes: First half is Edge's POV, the second Jericho's.
Summary: Feelings must out.
Words
- - - - -
© Niki 2004
Edge:
It's getting increasingly difficult to keep the words back.
It's been good this time. I got my wish. We've managed to keep this up for weeks now. And he's been… nice. I know, I know, but he has. We spend time together again. Hanging out, sparring, the works. And we wake up together more often that not. Not actually in each other's arms, mind you, but the same bed is enough for me at the moment.
And sex, needless to say, is fucking great. But that's exactly the problem. Lying in bed, in that post sex bliss where he's glued to my side, too exhausted to move and slowly falling asleep, I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything.
I have no illusions whatsoever that my feelings would be returned. I don't even believe he could handle my emotions if he knew about them.
So here I am again, holding him as he's falling asleep next to me. Looking at his face, the strong handsome features, so peaceful for once, and hearing the echo of the words inside my head, my heart, my whole being. It hurts to be so close, and know there will never be more.
He's asleep now, and I'm unable to keep quiet anymore. "I love you, Chris," I whisper, and kiss his forehead softly.
Then I get up from the bed, silently, trying not to wake him, and go to the bathroom.
I stare at the mirror, seeing only his face. I can't do it. Can't spend another night in his bed. Must go to my own room, to get some distance...
Bullshit.
-------------------------
Jericho:
Did he just say that?
Wide awake, I stare at the closed bathroom door. My forehead tingles where his lips touched it.
He loves me?
He loves me.
Part of me wants to jump up from the bed and dance a little victory dance around the room.
Part of me wants to laugh at him, use his weakness for my benefit.
Part of me is so scared it wants to run away in panic.
Part of me is angry, angry with him for trying to complicate what we have with emotions.
Part of me is hurting for the sadness audible in his voice.
So what do I do?
I close my eyes and pretend I'm still asleep.
Adam comes back to the bed, and I roll in my 'sleep', 'accidentally' ending up half-hugging him. My head is resting against his chest, and I feel him shift to a more comfortable position.
How do I feel about this? The sound of his heartbeat under my ear is oddly soothing, calming down the part of me that is panicking. When his hand starts to caress my hair softly it creates a funny feeling behind my abdominal muscles.
I'm comfortable here. I've been comfortable with what we've had. I don't want to complicate it. I don't want him to start expecting what I cannot give, I... he's not expecting anything.
He's never going to tell me anything. The sadness in his voice testifies to that. He will take what I give, and give only what I want to take. Damn that man!
Slowly his hand stops its movement, and his breath evens out. When I'm sure he's asleep I raise my head to look at him.
There's no sign of sadness on his face now.
He's easily the best looking person to ever sleep in my bed - after me of course. He's ridiculously good-looking; handsome and cute at the same time. His body is gorgeous. He's a great lover. He's fun to hang around with. He's a great sparring partner. And he loves me.
But I don't love him. I don't. I don't need him to love me.
He's wearing his pants. He wasn't going to stay, yet here he is. I play the whisper again and again in my head. "Chris, I love you."
He was, is, never going to tell me. Probably doesn't know how I'd react. Hell, I don't know how I'd react. I don't know how I feel.
I didn't want to know. And I don't love him.
I don't.