and i think i kinda like ya
up against the wall
we don't need a title

"Fucking perfect."

Dean flopped onto the floor and rolled his eyes. It was late, he was exhausted, and being trapped in an elevator with Chris Jericho was not the way he wanted to spend the few precious hours he had to sleep. Ever since his relationship with AJ had, quite literally, gone up in smoke, Dean had become Chris' new target. Not like his elementary school insults and pissy attitude bothered Dean all that much, but it did get pretty damned annoying. Chris jabbed the buttons on the wall, cursing when they didn't light up. Even the emergency call button offered no response.

"You know, I'm not too happy having to be in here with you either, idiot," Chris said, turning to face Dean. His expression was almost comical. All of his expressions were comical. Well, the angry ones at least. "How long until we get out of here?"

"Gee, Chris, let me just pull up my mental encyclopedia of elevator knowledge," Dean shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. "How the hell should I know? Half hour? Two hours? Doesn't really matter."

"What are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Chris slumped down against the wall, not too far away from Dean. Dean simply shrugged.

It was hard to see in the tiny space, despite there being a set of emergency lights that had flickered on not long after the elevator jolted to a stop. "Could always sing me a song, music man." Dean said with a smirk. Chris grit his teeth. "Or, I dunno, guess we could fuck or somethin'."

"What?" A look of confusion shot across Chris's face but there was a hint of curiosity as well.

"You heard me, old man." Dean fumbled with his belt buckle in the dark. "What else are we gonna do?"

Chris tugged hard on Dean's hair, pulling the man's face close to his own. "You sure you know what you're getting into, boy ?" He pressed his lips to Dean's but the kiss was more teeth and tongue than anything else. Not a trace of kindness or emotion, just a battle for dominance that Dean willingly let Chris win.

"Just fuck me, will ya?" Dean said, breaking away. He had managed to tug his jeans down to his ankles and he tried his best to kick them off before giving up.

"Stand up." Chris sounded different now. Gone was the petty, childish tone in his voice, replaced with one much darker and imposing.

"Yes, sir," Dean said playfully. "Or do ya want me to call ya 'daddy' like AJ did?"

That struck a nerve. Chris pulled Dean to his feet, tightening his grip on the man's hair. First came a slap, hard and stinging against Dean's cheek. Then came the cool metal of the wall on his face as Chris pressed him up against it. Dean could feel Chris's erection pressed up against his thigh, and it caused his own cock to harden a bit more. Chris sunk his teeth into Dean's neck. "I fucking hate you."

"Prove it." Dean rolled his hips back. He could hear the other man curse under his breath as the grip on his hair tightened. "Go on, daddy. "

"Fuck you." Chris tugged his pants down and thrust up into his hand. He forced his fingers into Dean's mouth, only to be met with Dean's tongue and, god, those lips, licking and sucking at them greedily. "You're such a fucking whore." Dean hummed low in his throat, some sort of non-verbal agreement. Chris pulled his hand away and groaned. He pressed a spit-slicked finger against Dean's hole.

"You gonna take all day?" Dean clenched his jaw. He wanted this. Needed it, at this point. He was painfully erect, his cock dripping. He pressed back against Chris's finger and moaned as it slipped inside. "Christ."

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight," Chris growled into Dean's ear. He pressed the other man harder against the wall. Dean whimpered as a second finger joined the first. "Beg me."

"Please."

"That all you've got, boy?"

"Chris, fuck, please." Forget the bravado, forget the attitude. Forget everything except right now, this very moment, with Chris pressed up against him and sucking on his neck. "Please, god, just fuck me."

Chris would be a liar if he said that he hesitated for even a moment. He spit into his hand and lubed himself up the best that he could. He pressed the head of his cock to Dean's entrance and slowly pushed his way inside. The sound that erupted from Dean's mouth was so raw and desperate and utterly beautiful. Chris put his hands on the younger man's shoulders and pumped in and out. "You love this."

"Yeah," Dean panted. His head was spinning. Hazy from lust and pain but, god, the pleasure too. He felt drunk, his legs weak and shaky. If it weren't for Chris keeping a grip on him, there was no doubt in his mind that he would crumple to the floor.

"Say it."

"Yeah, I said it." Dean said, gasping for air as Chris pounded harder into him. His response was met with a strong hand around his throat, squeezing.

"Say it. "

"I love it, god, I love it." Dean choked out. "I love it." His vision was growing cloudy, his mind slipping further and further away from consciousness as Chris pressed down against his windpipe. He saw stars. Stars when he closed his eyes, and stars when he tried in vain to keep them open. He shifted his head to the side and caught sight of himself in the mirrored back wall of the elevator. "Chris…"

Dean couldn't manage to say much else, just continued to moan and drown in the feeling of the older man hitting his prostate. He cried out, desperate and needy. Chris released the hold on Dean's throat and he gasped, taking in as much air as he possibly could. "Chris, look," he said breathlessly. He weakly motioned to the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection and Dean could see the hunger in the man's expression.

"You really are a fucking slut, you know?" Chris seemed to finally take notice of Dean's erection and a twisted smile crossed his face. "Don't you dare come until I say you can." Dean whined desperately. "And I want you to watch the whole damn thing."

Chris channeled all of his anger and frustration from the past few weeks into each and every thrust. His grip on Dean's shoulders was hard enough to leave bruises. Good. That wasn't his problem to deal with, and he didn't want Dean to forget this moment. Not for a long time. Not ever. Fuck AJ and his self-righteous ass. He'd been difficult anyway. Shy and scared and timid, not hot and wanting like Dean. The man was practically screaming as Chris sunk inside of him as deep as he could.

It was a sensation that Dean never grew tired of, no matter whose cock it happened to be. He loved feeling so full, so utterly lost in pleasure. Sure, there were good fucks and bad fucks, but in the end it all boiled down to the fact that it took little convincing to get into Dean's pants. Maybe he was a whore, but being a whore just felt so damn good. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, a few of them spilling over and running down his cheek. The sight of Chris, head thrown back and mouth open in pure ecstasy, was almost too much to bear. He clamped his eyes shut, knowing that if he kept watching there would be no way to keep himself from coming.

"You're close, huh?" Chris said, picking the pace back up, fucking into him so hard that Dean's face bounced off the cool metal wall. He could feel the other man clenching around him, could see the anguish written all over his face as he tried to hold himself together. Chris wanted to break him. "I told you to watch." He raked his nails down Dean's back, marveling at the blood that beaded up in the scratches.

"God damn it," Dean hissed through clenched teeth. He opened his eyes, forcing himself to look into the mirror. Forcing himself to watch the way Chris used him. Just a hole. Just another fuck. It was perfect. "Please, Chris." The other man wrapped his hand around Dean's cock and worked it up and down, Dean's precome dripping from the tip and onto Chris's fingers.

"Dean, fuck," Chris moaned, thrusting up roughly. Dean cried out, begging for release. The lights in the elevator flickered on and both men stopped completely and shared the same startled expression. They were out of time. Chris put both hands on Dean's hips, leaving the man's cock untouched yet again, and came hard inside of him. He let loose a blue streak. Every curse word that came to mind mixed with Dean's name. He pulled out and staggered back, quickly getting his his pants back on. He watched as Dean jerked himself urgently and appreciated the view of Dean's ass, Chris's come trickling out and down the man's thigh. It was only a matter of seconds before Dean came undone.

"I fucking hate you," he said, breathing heavily as his come spilled onto the tile floor below. He moaned one last time and steadied himself against the wall. He tugged his jeans up around his waist and made sure his shirt was on straight. The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival on the 14th floor. The doors slid open, revealing none other than AJ fucking Styles. Chris knew that the scent of sex was heavy in the air, and he knew that AJ was far from stupid. Chris beamed, knowing full well that it would eat AJ up inside. The brunette's lips formed a straight line as the two other men pushed past him.

"Hey, boy," Chris said, grabbing Dean by the wrist before he could walk away. "I never said you could come."

"Guess you'll just have to punish me next time." Dean wrenched his arm away and gave a little wave before heading off toward his hotel room.

It seemed unlikely, but, maybe, he hated Dean a little less.