I'm waiting for something, always waiting…Feeling nothing, wondering if it'll ever change…And then I give a little more, oh babe…Give a little more, oh babe…

Paul entered the hotel room and flicked the light on with an angry swipe of his hand. What a fucking day. All he wanted to do was get into bed and imagine that it never even happened. It had been a week since his life got turned upside down. All his life he practically lived and breathed to get to Wrestlemania. This year he was dreading it and not because of his opponent. He couldn't wait to work with Brock. It was the other bullshit that came with it all wrapped up in the nice neat ball of one Stephanie McMahon.

God she had been such a pill to work with today. She had arrived over an hour late which caused Vince to flip his shit which in turn caused a huge McMahon family war which then caused Stephanie to pretty much be a bitch on wheels for the rest of the night. She was moody and short with him whenever he tried to make any form of conversation. He just couldn't believe that this is who she was now. In fact, he refused to believe it and as much as it pained him, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt because he knew who she was as a person, or at least who she used to be. He'd absolutely hate to think that she had turned into a walking stereotype of herself. Late at night when they were alone together she always used to ask him what the boys said about her. It was in those moments that he realised how strongly his feelings were. She didn't need to hear the shit they said and she shouldn't care. Stephanie wore a brave face, she had to being the daughter of Vince McMahon, but at night with just the soft moonlight shining on her face, her insecurities also shone through. The fact that she had needed his reassurance made him love her even more. She was perfect to him but never to herself. All he had ever wanted to do was protect her and make her see herself the way he did. Although he wasn't too sure he would want her to see herself the way he had seen her tonight. Funny how he could quite possibly be the reason behind that change in attitude. He liked to think not. It had been three years since they broke up. Acting like a bitch because of something that happened that long ago wasn't an excuse. He let out a sigh and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Tomorrow was Smackdown and he had to do it all over again. They had a lot of solo scenes together. Wasn't that going to be fun?

A light rapping at the door brought him to his feet and he slowly approached the polished pine. His big hand pulled it open to reveal a smiling Trish Stratus on the other side. She didn't wait for an invitation and quickly sauntered inside, coming to a stop at the edge of his bed. God he wasn't in the mood for this right now.

"Well don't look at me like that, you're the one who invited me here," Trish laughed lightly at the almost grumpy look on his face. "If you tell me you forgot I'm going to be highly offended by the way." Her voice dropped as she reached out and toyed with the waistline of his jeans, her chest pressing into his.

Paul couldn't help but respond to the feel of her breasts rubbing against his cotton shirt. Her intentions were clear yet they always were. There were no blurred lines. They only spent time together to fuck, that was it. If they weren't fucking, they had no reason to talk. His guilty conscience sprang to the fore and his eyes slid shut as she scraped her nails under the hem of the grey material. He was lying to himself again. It seemed to be his automatic defence mechanism when it came to Trish. No matter what he couldn't see this thing between them as anything other than him using her for a quick lay. It didn't matter that she was using him too. He just felt like a bastard. He had to see her everyday and no matter how hard he tried, this wasn't strictly sexual any more. They had reached the point of being comfortable together now, maybe a little too comfortable. They talked after sex and once or twice even cuddled. It was obvious where his conflicted conscience was coming from but as usual he preferred to ignore it. Tonight of all nights he wasn't going to play shrink. In fact, all he wanted to do was go to bed.

"Trish…"

"Is everything okay?" Trish whispered, her teeth nibbling on his ear while she dropped her hand to faintly brush against his crotch. She was barely listening to him. She'd had a shit night and wanted nothing more than to unwind the best way she knew how. Paul was her stress relief and lately she had been relying on him a little too much in that regard. Her mother had taken ill and she constantly felt like she was walking on eggshells. It was exhausting checking home, being on the road and wrestling every night. Being with him allowed her to escape from everything else and just feel. Pure and simple, he got her off better than anybody else ever had and so long as he was on the table, she'd keep coming back for more. She nipped her way from his ear to his mouth, fusing their lips together in a slow kiss.

"Hmmm," he groaned absently, completely forgetting himself and pulling her into him as he fell back on to the bed. She straddled his lap with a smirk on her face and pressed her lips to his once again, her hips rocking into him suggestively. But his hands didn't come to rest at her waist and aid her movements like they usually did. Instead they remained at his sides. Undeterred, Trish slowly ran her hands down his chest, her fingers bunching his t-shirt so she could open his belt while their tongues rolled together. The buckle clanked and fell loose. It was a sound that never failed to make her tingle in anticipation. She really needed this tonight. Her body was wound and quite frankly, she was surprised he didn't have her flat on her back already. His lack of response to her touch was concerning. She let her nails scrape against the smooth skin of his abdomen, scratching at the indents in his sculpted hips and moving lower. But he caught her hand and lightly brushed it away.

"What's wrong," she mumbled breathlessly against his jaw. When his hands brought about a deliberate stop to her grinding hips she pulled back and stared at him strangely. "Paul?"

"I'm sorry I just…."he trailed off. He didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. God this was embarrassing he thought as he gently shifted from under her and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

Trish caught her breath, fixing her dishevelled hair and looked at him for a few seconds. He was hanging over his knees with his head in his hands. Shuffling closer, she rubbed his arm and forced him to look at her. "You want to talk about it?"

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. He just wanted to be left alone.

"We are still friends, Paul. You can talk to….."

"Are we? Because I don't know what the hell we are."

"Stop it." Trish said firmly. Stephanie had really thrown him for a loop tonight that was for sure. She'd never seen him so irritated. Reaching out, she took both his hands and squeezed. "Don't do that. Don't complicate things. We both know what this is." His hazel eyes properly met with hers for the first time and she smiled solemnly. "We both know what we are."

"Trish…" Paul was about to apologise again when her fingers gently pressed against his mouth cutting him off. The way she was looking at him right now was more than enough to make him forget the bullshit. Her expression was dark, her face wanton.

Trish slowly ran her fingers over his lips, his chest, coming to a stop at the already open fly of his jeans. "Don't…..I need you tonight."

Her voice was a seductive whisper and Paul's eyes slid shut as he let her wash over him. He may not want to admit it but he needed her too. Tonight of all nights he just wanted to get lost in something, in someone. With a newfound desire, he cupped her cheek and kissed her hard, flipping her on to her back and crawling over her as he ground himself against her, letting her feel his resurgent need for her. The feel of her hands dipping inside his jeans forced his eyes shut and he buried his head in her neck, letting her work her magic.

Trish gripped him firmly with one hand while she ran the other along his strained bicep as he held himself above her. His head lifted from her neck and they locked gazes. His expression was almost pained and she truly felt for him. Tonight couldn't have been easy. Her hand flexed and began to pump him slowly and she watched as the tension left his face. He needed her tonight, whether he knew it or not, she didn't really care. They needed each other. She would make him forget. She always did.