Warning: Dark theme, rape, abuse, violence and cursing.
Pairing: Randy Orton/Triple H/ Batista/ Shane McMahon (SLASH)
Dedication: waldron82 (Done by request)
Note: Set in 2009.Though this one shot mostly contains with the above mentioned warnings, the end will be soft. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
XXXXX
He slightly shifted on his spot, his hazel eyes staring intensely at the young man that was walking down the hall way, towards where he was hiding. The darkness surrounded him, concealing him from the unsuspecting man's view. He watched as The Viper strode confidently, an arrogant smirk set placed on his perfect, thin lips. He narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching as he took in the larger man that followed The Legend Killer.
"Randy," the larger man called out, seeing that the younger man hadn't noticed him following behind. The Viper spun around, his eye brows shooting upwards as his icy eyes sized up the man who called his name.
"Glenn?" his voice was smooth, like water flowing. "What can I do for you?"
Glenn shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking awkward. "Do you have plans for tonight?"
If it's possible, his eyes narrowed to slits and his jaws twitched.
Randy Orton's eyes slightly widened the smirk that played his lips spread. "Why does it sound like that you're asking me out?"
Glenn scratched the back of his head, looking at anywhere but Randy. "Maybe I am."
"Glenn," Orton sighed, for the first time in the evening his smirk disappearing. He took a step back, moving away from Glenn Jacobs. "I'm sorry," why was he apologizing? "But I can't. I don't…. I don't date. I don't do relationships…."
"Oh," The gentle giant's face fell, obviously his feelings crushed by the younger man. He smirked devilishly. "If you…. If you changed your mind…. Tell me," with that he walked away, giving a small, pathetic smile. Randy watched him walk away, and sighed. He resumed his slow walking, rubbing the back of his neck with a sort of sad look etched on to his handsome face. How many people over the years had he turned down?
Countless.
And it was all because of him.
He still haunted Orton's life, scarring his soul over again and again. Cursing to himself at the thought of him, Randy scowled, gripping his duffel bag tightly.
The red t-shirt he wore was tight, hugging to his body like second skin and the color contrasting with the man's golden tan. The jeans were equally tight, glued to his muscles in all the right places. He was wonderful sight just to look at. A menacing growl escaped from his lips as he took over the younger man, who was soon to be writhing underneath him. He had almost forgotten how good it felt like to have the dominant, vengeful Randy Orton wriggling and bucking underneath his own large body.
He cursed himself inwardly as another growl drug out of his mouth. He took a step backwards into the darkness when he saw Orton's head snap to the direction where he was. Thankfully, the Viper's cerulean eyes didn't stop at the spot where he was standing; they just roamed over all the places trying to find a source that had made the sound. After a full agonizing minute, Orton shrugged to himself, sneering at nothing in particular.
Unbeknownst to Orton, he followed as quietly as he can, jumping into the darkest places on his way, in case Orton decided to glance back or something. Chuckling evilly to himself, he took out his phone and pressed a few buttons, keeping his eyes on the slender man that just went through the backdoor to the parking lot.
Randy shivered. Ever since he had gotten to the arena, he couldn't shake of a certain feeling. That feeling was the sense of someone or some people was watching over him. Sometimes the stare was intense, sometimes, raged, and sometimes purely malicious. He shivered again. He made his way to his rental, pressing a button on his remote attached key so that it was unlocked. Opening one of the doors to the backseat, he tossed his bag in, closing the door. All of a sudden his skin began to tingle, and he was feeling nausea in his stomach. His guts twisted as if sensing that something wrong was going to happen sooner or later.
Strong arms wrapped around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Randy struggled to free himself from the hold only to have another set of hands on him. Numbers gained, he realized that he had no choice. His last chance was to scream for help, which as much as he despised to do but just had to. Just as he opened his mouth, a man who was much larger than him blocked his view. He looked familiar, although he was wearing full black and his face was covered in a mask. He shoved a wet cloth to Randy's face, and the scream went muffled, and then it faded away to a small whimper to nothing at all, as The Legend Killer fell on the ground unconscious.
"Get him into the car," one growled, nudging the younger man on the floor with the tip of his shoe. "Before someone else sees."
XXXXX
"He's waking up," one said, putting his hands on his hips and watching The Viper's eyes fluttering open.
A groan dragged out of his parted lips, as his head started to pound in a headache. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to raise his hands to rub his temples to soothe down the headache but found that it was impossible. Opening his eyes widely, the first thing he noticed was the three large men at the foot of his bed, glaring down at him. Orton's heart's pace increased as he shifted his eyes from one man to the other, and finally the one he loathed deeply in his heart. The instant urge to slap the smug smirk off that person's face made him raise his hand again, only to be reminded that he couldn't.
Diverting his glare away from the crowd, he turned his cerulean orbs to his right hand, and then to the left. His hands were restrained, stretched wide at his sides to the upper bed posts. Hissing, he tried to yank his wrists off the metal cuffs, only to feel the steel cutting through his skin. However, his legs were free. Well, that didn't mean he could run away, since there was no way to free his arms. Gritting his teeth in frustration he lifted his upper body, dragging himself up the bed to a sitting position. Resting his back against the headboard, he averted his gaze to the men who had been watching his every move since-or maybe even before he woke up- he regained his consciousness.
"What the fuck is going on?" Orton hissed dangerously, fixing his intense stare at the dirty blonde haired man. Though it wasn't him who answered his question.
"Relax, Orton," the shorter of the two smiled, but Randy could feel something dark underneath that curve on his lips. "It won't hurt you if you just relax and take it all like a man. Oh, but I forgot," he tapped his chin. "It is supposed to hurt you."
"Let's get this over with," the tattooed man grinned devilishly, his dark brown eyes roaming over Orton's nearly naked body. Randy squirmed lightly under the intent stare and casted his gaze down at his own body to realize that he had been stripped, and was wearing only his boxer shorts. Feeling underdressed; he drew his knees to his chest.
"What are you talking about?" his racing heart had started to hammer in his chest, as his panicked cerulean eyes spot something like a ball gag in the tattooed man's hands. Breathing heavily, he hissed, realizing what was going to happen. "No. NO! I said NO!"
"Stop whining like a bitch, Orton," Batista's grin widened, as he walked around the bed. Chuckles spilled out of his lips as he saw how panicked Randy looked, furiously yanking his hands trying to free them from the locks.
"Don't," Shane McMahon called out just as Batista reached behind Orton to strap the gag around his face. "Throw it away. I want to hear the whore scream."
"Call me whore one more time, McMahon," Orton sneered, his heated glare focused upon his boss. "I will fucking punt your head off your body next time."
"That," the royalty didn't seem to be even affected by the threat. "Is if you even got away from this Hell hole, Orton."
"I will," Orton vowed, yanking his hands one more time. "I fucking will." His face turned to the side, and it took a moment for him to realize that he had been slapped. Ignoring the light sting on his cheek, he strained his neck again, this time, focusing his icy cold stare on Batista. "Don't put your filthy hands on me, Batista."
"Oh, trust me, Orton," Batista smirked and then snickered, a deep scowl set on his face. "You will have more than my hands in your body." Loving the shiver that trembled the younger man, Batista turned to his former mentor, who had been silent from the start. "You want to start?"
At the same time, The Legend Killer's eyes shifted to Triple H, who had taken the seat furthest away from the bed, watching all of the interactions between the captive and the captors like a movie. His face was blank, his eyes held no emotion but they were fixed upon Orton, not even blinking as he held the younger man's heated glare. He shook his head and then gestured to McMahon. Giving a stiff nod, Shane went to the closet and opened the door, taking out a leather case. He opened it, grinning at whatever that was inside it and turned to smirk at Batista.
Understanding what Shane wanted, Batista looked back at Orton. "Stretch out."
"No," the captive hissed, pressing his knees tightly to his chest, refusing to follow the command. He didn't submit that easily and definitely he wouldn't for these three. "I'm not going to do it. I don't want to."
"Who said we'll be doing what you want, Orton?" Batista wrapped his fingers around one of Orton's ankles, gripping it tightly. "Now be a good boy and spread your legs out."
"What part of 'I don't want to' you don't fucking understand, Batista?" the younger man barked, kicking Batista in the process.
"That's it," Batista hissed, grabbing both of Orton's ankles and yanking them, forcing the younger man to slide down the bed again. Ignoring the curses and threatens, he shackled the ankles to the lower bed posts by metal restraints. Snickering at the frustrated cry Orton gave, he ran his eyes over the tan, lean body that was spread out on the bed. He hooked his fingers to the waistline of Orton's black boxers, looking up once into the cerulean eyes.
"Don't you dare," Orton gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists, fingers clenching and unclenching as rage ran down his veins. He felt fucking weak, vulnerable, held down by three men and about to be violated. He hated it. "Don't you fucking dare."
With one swift move, Batista ripped the boxer shorts from Orton's body, leaving it exposed to the world. He laughed out loud, his heart clenching with desire as his cruel, beady eyes took in every inch of the beautiful body on the bed. Orton squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling back as he felt all the eyes on him. He felt humiliated, and a small voice in the back of his head said that they were just getting started. His eyes cracked open again when he felt fingers trail down his shaft.
"Don't touch me," he spat viciously, trying to clamp his legs together. "Take your hands off me!"
"We should've gagged him," Batista muttered, wrapping his hand around Orton's cock and squeezing down hard. Orton bit down on his lip and groaned painfully, bucking his hips downward to release himself from the choking grip.
"No. imagines how sweet he'll sound when he screams," Shane grinned, taking out a red cock ring from the lather case. "Get him hard."
"He's already hard," Batista snorted. And he was right. Through the painful pressure that was applied on his cock, Orton felt his betraying shaft springing into life as Batista's hand roughly but expertly worked up and down his cock. The strokes were painful but jolts of pleasure waved down his thighs and Orton found it hard to keep silent. His whole body refused to show what he was really feeling, and it trembled hard, a thin coat of sweat breaking over his body, making the golden tan glisten. "Slut."
"Fuck…. Y-you…" Orton panted, swallowing down another groan when heat pooled around the base of his cock, ready for his climax. He sighed, partially in contempt and partially in relief when he felt the cock ring slide down his shaft, blocking his orgasm. In his mind, he was more than glad that he held back himself long enough to force down the climax he was about to reach. But his body trembled hard, fighting back against the cock ring that was blocking the release. It was painful, but Orton was capable of hiding it.
"Think you'll find me fucking you in no time," Batista growled, climbing off Orton and motioning towards McMahon. "He's yours."
Shane grinned, placing the leather case on the bed beside Randy and opening it up again. Running his eyes down the helpless Viper once, he took out a whip. He climbed on top of Orton, sitting on his thighs. He traced the younger man's chest with the whip, the tip of it grazing over Randy's nipples, hardening them to beads. The trembling increased.
"W-what are you doing?" Randy whispered, horrified as the older man's hands went under him and squeezed his ass cheeks.
"Don't worry," Shane assured, mocking a kind smile. "Batista is going to do all the fucking. Me… Well, let's just say I'm not into cheap whores," with that he brought down the whip, right across Orton's right nipple. His back arched off the bed and he whimpered painfully as his nipple burned painfully. A yelp slipped out of his lips as his other nipple suffered the same abuse. His eyes watered, but he blinked hard, refusing the men sees how their abuse is hurting him. "Does that hurt, Orton? Huh? Does it hurt?" Shane said in a low voice, his own hands shaking with anticipation to torture the man that had put his whole family in the hospital including him. Sure, the feud was a storyline, but Orton stepped far more into the script than he needed. And it was time to payback.
"Bad boys needs to be punished, Orton," Batista cooed, brushing his fingers over Randy's shorn hair. "And you've been a very, very bad boy."
"I swear," Orton's voice cracked at the end, his body writhing as whip flash after whip flash rained against his chest, and stomach. "When I get out of this place, I'll fucking kill you all. Especially you, Hunter!" He raised his voice, so that the quiet man sitting in the corner of the room watching the scene could hear him, and then dropped his voice to a whisper. "Especially you."
The next he screamed out in pain, as the whip connected with his painfully hard shaft. A tear flowed out of his eye, and he turned his head to the side, hiding it from the men. Gritting his teeth in agony, he bit his lip again to muffle out the second whip flash on his cock.
"Watch your mouth, boy," Shane hissed dangerously. Then he got off Orton, inspecting the artwork he created. Red, angry welts and scratches decorated the tan body, some scratched deep enough to draw blood. Orton's cock was swollen and was standing out proud, but he could see how much pain it inflicted upon the younger man. Was he regretting what he did? Hell no.
He moved on to the delicious looking thighs, whipping down on the soft flesh hard and fast. Pouring all the hate he had towards the younger man helped his mind off of how much animalistic he acted. It's not his fault though. Orton had it coming for him, from a long time ago. Orton's painful whimpers and whines were music to his ears, and he felt the need to continue his assault. But they didn't have much time, so they had to be done with Orton soon.
"You feel good?" Batista asked, noticing the beastly smirk on McMahon's face.
"You're damn right, I feel good," Shane agreed, hitting one more time on Orton's abdomen, making him cry out in pain. "Fuck him, and break him down."
"You can't break me," Orton growled deep, his voice lightly muffled as he was gritting his teeth together hard. Countless painful groans rose up his throat and were about to spill out of his lips, but he was just too stubborn to show his captors that what they did affected him. He would never give up, not to these monsters. "You will never break me."
"We'll see about that," Batista took out a vibrator and a nasty looking spiked dildo out of the leather case, weighing them on his hands, debating in his mind which of the two should be used. "You see, Orton. I'm actually being generous enough to prepare you before I fuck you. You should be thankful."
"F-fuck you," Randy stuttered out, dread and fear settling down on his stomach as his eyes spotted the evil looking dildo. His body was numb and burning in all the abused places, hurting like hell. He wanted this torture to be over. Another slap connected to his cheek, another one following it. His cheek swelled, red coloring over the flesh.
"Such a filthy mouth even after all this," Batista plugged on the vibrator, deciding that it was better than the dildo. "But don't worry, stud. You will be begging me to stop in a minute."
"I never beg, you son of a bitch," that did it; the vibrator was shoved up in his ass. Orton cried out, his back arching as the vibrator pressed directly against his prostate. "F-Fuck…."
"Enjoying yourself, eh?" Batista grinned, seeing the younger man's eyes flutter close.
"I told you he'd sound sweet when he screams," Shane added, leaning against the wall and watching Orton's body wriggle in pain.
Then Batista pushed another button, which made Orton scream in pure agony. The fucking vibrator had hidden spikes, and pushing that button made the concealed spikes spring out, stretching out his walls, digging painfully into his flesh. He choked back a sob as wave after wave of pain and agony rushed down his legs, numbing his nerves. It was too much to take, the pain was too much. "Take it out! Take the fucking thing out of me!" he screamed, his body violently shaking from the torture.
"I don't think so, Orton," Batista stood up, stripping off his clothes. "We were just getting started."
"No!" Randy writhed furiously, his eyes wide and tears running down freely. "I can't take it! I can't t-take it!"
Chuckling darkly, Batista got into the bed again, getting in between Orton's spread out legs. He took out the vibrator an inch downwards, and he heard Orton let out a shattered breath. And then he pushed it inside him again, feeling the tip of the vibrating machine hit the end of the walls. Orton screamed again, violently yanking legs and arms off the restraints. Batista moved the vibrator in and out of Orton's whole, loving the way the smaller man's body struggled underneath him. His own dick was painfully hard, and the sight of a vulnerable beauty made him lose his patience. "You ready to take the Animal, Orton?"
Orton's panicked wide ceruleans stared at him horrified as the larger man shoved the vibrator inside him again. "No… God no…."
Batista leaned closer, hovering over the trembling Viper and pressed his lips to his ear. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" He lowered his voice even more so that only Randy could hear him. "Ever since I first saw you on Evolution. Shame you didn't notice my hints." He chuckled darkly again, his heart jumping in joy when he practically smelled the fear wafting off Orton. "And now there's nothing between you and me. I'm going to break you into pieces. I'll tear you apart to shreds. Surrender now, because if you don't….."
"Nev-ver," panted the younger man, his body contorted in pain when the man twisted the vibrator inside him.
"You see, boy… I'm capable of not only breaking your body, but your soul and sanity as well," Batista growled, pressing his body against Randy's making him feel how hard Batista was for him. "Just give up."
"Y-you f-fucking son of a b-bitch," Randy whimpered out and then spat on his abuser's face. "You'll never b-break me."
The spit on his face sent Batista over the edge. "You'll be sorry for that," he hissed maliciously, pulling out the vibrator with its spikes still out, and rammed his cock inside the already abused hole. How much fucking twisted his mind was he didn't know, but he laughed when Randy's body jerked up violently. Not even waiting for the silken tunnel to adjust to the size of his shaft, Batista moved with much difficulty, as the walls were squeezing down on his erect shaft almost painfully. Grunting in pleasure he thrust in, burying to the hilt inside the younger man before taking the shaft out to its tip, and then slamming it in again.
Shane removed the shackles from around Orton's ankles, so it was easy for Batista to fuck Orton thoroughly. Grabbing Orton's bleeding thighs, Batista ravished his rose bud, throwing the legs over his shoulder and lifting his body off the bed. Randy whined in agony as pain clouded his mind, his shoulders holding all of his body weight as he was fucked through the mattress. He cursed out, feeling his sore muscles ready to be torn apart.
Batista cared none of the younger man's painful groans; his mind was focused on getting revenge and pleasuring himself only. Grinning at Orton's contorted in pain face; he thrust hard and deep into the helpless body of The Viper, loving how the tunnel squeezed down on his shaft.
"I-I'm gonna f-fucking k-kill you, Batista," Orton hissed out in pain, as he gripped handfuls of the sheets on the bed. His arms were sore from being stretched wide, and the welts on his body were bleeding, not to speak of the Animal destroying his insides. He knew he was close to break down, but he didn't want to admit, he didn't want to give in. he vowed himself to get back at the men tormenting him. Somehow, he was going to get out of this Hell hole and somehow, he'll destroy all of their lives.
"Never gonna happen," the other barked out, roaring in satisfaction as he reached his release deep inside Orton. Out of breath, Batista pulled out of Orton, only then noticing that he had tore up Orton's anus. Shrugging to himself, he felt completely satisfied after a long time. He looked at the so-called Legend Killer. His limp body was spread out on the bed, trembling so hard like he was having a fit. He and McMahon really did a number on the younger man, he was certain that they had broken The Viper down, even when the man himself didn't admit it.
He dressed up, bumping fists with Shane McMahon, grinning from ear to ear. Then Shane turned to Hunter, who had kept his silence the whole time. "It's your turn."
Hunter hummed deep in his chest, his eyes not leaving the vulnerable boy on the bed. He watched as Orton's eyes rolled back to the head, his face twisting into a pain filled mask. The after-effects were the worst. "I don't think so."
"What?" Batista exclaimed, giving an incredulous look at Triple H. "Are you fucking backing down now?"
"I'm not fucking backing down!" Hunter growled, his eyes daring Batista to raise his voice at him again. Gulping hard Batista averted his gaze. "Look at him," he nodded towards Orton, talking to Shane. "He's about to blackout. We don't want him dying on us, now, do we? On the other hand, there's still tomorrow."
Shane looked like he was about to protest, but he didn't when he finally focused fully on the nearly dead body of Orton. He still hated Orton, but he had taken out his rage on the younger man as much as he wanted. So now, he didn't feel the need to violate the stubborn stud again. In case, what Hunter had said was true. They couldn't have The Viper dying on them.
"Alright," Shane gave a nod, looking back and forth at Hunter and Orton. "One of us will have to watch over Ort-"
"I'll do that," Hunter cut him off, getting up from the chair. "You two can go. But remember, this is between us three. Not even Stephenie can know about this."
"I agree with that," Shane approved. "Then… We'll leave?"
"Yes," Hunter said, practically growling as he caught Batista eyeing up Randy again. "You can leave now."
"Why so eager, Hunter?" Batista turned his head to his former mentor, his eyes glittering in a strange sparkle as they exchanged stares with underlying meanings between them. It was a competition that the both fought on since they formed the Evolution, and often, Hunter found himself about the dark aura that Batista seemed to carry with him everywhere. "You've got something private to do?"
"Hey," Shane shoved Batista not so gently. "Let's get outta here. It's getting late. Hunter said he'd take care of the frail."
"He said," muttered Batista under his breath, averting his gaze away when the McMahon's glare sat upon himself. After a quick wave at Hunter, Shane dragged Batista out of the room, and Hunter followed to make sure they were out of the house.
Hearing the conversation, Randy Orton knew that play time for the day was over. He let the tears he had hidden behind his eye lids fall, breaking into sobs. No one would bother him for the rest of the night, and he would have time to lose his pride in the limited time and regain his confidence by the morning. Until then…. He would let himself cry to sleep. What hurt him most was the man he had once deeply cared about had turned the blind eye towards all the abuse. In fact, he seemed to be a part of the scenario, yet the problem was that he didn't participate.
He blinked at the light sting in his eyes as he sobbed silently, tears pouring out of the beautiful cerulean gems. The door opened again, slowly for the sake of Orton so he had enough time to wipe his face sideways on the pillow, to dry up the tear trails. He watched with hateful eyes as Hunter entered the room again, his hazel eyes fixed upon Orton as he leaned against the door.
"You wanted to play with me alone?" Randy asked, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "But it would've been fun if you had joined the other two."
Beneath the poker face, Hunter sensed that the younger man was deeply hurt. Not only physically, but emotionally too. He narrowed his eyes, as he watched The Viper struggling weakly against his arm restraints. Hunter walked to the bed, taking the cock ring out before unlocking the cuffs with a flick of his fingers. He knew Orton was no competition for him, even when he was strong and rough. Something like sympathy flashed across Hunter's eyes as he watched Orton curl into a tight ball on the bed as soon as his arms were free. Blood which oozed off his body smeared on the bed sheets as he shifted to a comfortable position, groaning in protest as his body ached with every move.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Hunter said his voice somewhat soft as he took in the vulnerable beauty on his bed. "Get up." He walked into the attached bathroom, turning the hot water tap that was fixed on the bath tub. When he peered into the bedroom again to retrieve Randy, he saw Randy trying to get up with the help of the wall. He watched in fascination as blood trickled down his body in thin trails, and his shapely thighs tremble as he tried to step forward. On the first step he lost his balance, nearly falling to the floor if Hunter had not caught him in time.
"Don't touch me," he spat, weakly shoving Hunter away and again falling on the bed, hugging himself. "Please don't touch me," that was a whisper. Hunter knelt in front of Randy, gently placing his hand on a spot that wasn't abused.
"Let me help you," his voice was soft as his shiny hazel eyes peered into Randy's hypnotizing sky blue orbs. "I won't hurt you."
"How many times have I heard that, Hunter?" Randy's words were barely audible, but they cut through Hunter like sharp knives. "And every time after you said that… You screwed me over and over again. Tell me why I should trust what you said."
"I won't let them hurt you again," Hunter raised his hand to cup Randy's good cheek, but his chest clenched when the younger man moved his face away from his touch.
"You didn't stop them when they hurt me right in front of you," his voice cracked, tears pooling in those eyes again. "You fucking watched them hurt me."
"I'm sorry," Hunter looked away, finally shame creeping into his mind. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry doesn't take the pain, Hunter," he whimpered. "It doesn't take away the humiliation." He sobbed, clasping a hand over his mouth to muffle out the sounds.
Hunter scooped up Randy in his arms, lifting him off the bed and carried the sobbing man into the bathroom. Carefully placing him in the warm water filled tub, he winced when Randy whined softly in pain as his body connected with the tub. After giving a final glance and checking if Randy was fine for the moment, Hunter returned to the room, yanking the blood and semen coated sheets off the bed, replacing them into much softer, comfortable ones. Then he checked back into the bathroom, realizing that Randy was only half conscious. He was almost asleep. Taking off his grey t-shirt, Hunter settled down behind Randy, kneeling on the floor.
His hands found Randy's stiff shoulders. If it's possible the already stiffed muscles stiffened more, Randy's whole body tensing as he felt Hunter's hands on his body. But then he relaxed, feeling the soft pads of Hunter's fingers kneading into his tensed flesh, massaging the hurt and stress away. Randy made an appreciative sound from the back of his throat as Hunter's hands massaged his abused flesh. Giving into the waves of comfort, Randy rested his head against Hunter's chest.
Hunter's hands moved over Randy's welts and scratches, gently caressing the blood away. He took in every hiss and curse, grimacing as he thought of the amount of pain Randy was in. he caressed the younger man lovingly, remembering the times when he had belonged only to Triple H. Once he screwed Randy over for the Heavyweight Title, and the second time he screwed him over Stephenie. Money and Fame had been the only thing he had craved at that time. It was after about a year when he found out about his wife's true nature he realized what a fucking idiot he had been. Though he had forgiven her through words, the love he felt for her was robotic from then on.
Hunter focused back on Randy and stopped massaging him, earning a mewl from his former protégé. A hint of a smile curved over Hunter's lips but it disappeared when he noticed the water in the tub had turned red, mixed with blood.
"Hunter?" it was that whimper that got his attention back to Randy. "Why are you doing this?"
"No reason," he muttered, brushing a thumb over Randy's good cheek.
"Even after all I did to you," Randy continued, his eyes shifting to here and there. "Even after I hurt your wife?"
"Ask no more," Hunter growled, his jaws twitching at the thought of his 'faithful' wife.
A moment of silence. "You're not happy," that wasn't a question.
Hunter stood up, grabbing a towel from the nearby hanger. He didn't say anything, nor did he look at Randy who was inspecting his every move. Throwing the towel over his shoulder he snaked his arms around Randy, helping him to stand up and steady himself before wrapping the towel around him. Randy leaned heavily against his body, sighing in content as he did so. Hunter lifted Randy up in his arms again, returning to the bedroom and placing him on the new, clean bed.
"Get some sleep," caressed Randy's face gently. "You have to wake up early tomorrow. I'll drop you at your hotel."
"W-what about –"
"I'll cover up for ya," Hunter dismissed Randy's words, backing away to the door. "You can thank me later," he smiled slightly.
"No!" Randy knelt on the bed, gritting his teeth when pain short through his lower body and crawled to the foot of the bed, and reaching out for Hunter. "Don't go!" losing his balance again, he yelped when he half-fell, into Hunter's arms again.
"Easy there," Hunter soothed, holding Randy up by his waist.
Randy winced slightly, but he looked up at Hunter's hazel eyes, the handsome features that he had once adored. Not even realizing what he was doing, he pressed his lips to Hunter's kissing him. Taken aback, it took Hunter a few seconds to compose himself and to kiss Randy back. He had missed the way those full and luscious lips of Randy's on him. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to have Randy Orton bucking and writhing underneath him. Growling in dominance Hunter seeked entrance to Randy's mouth, giving a satisfied growl as the younger man parted his lips willingly for him.
"You're broken," Hunter said against Randy's lips.
"You're the one who broke me," Randy whispered, his hand moving to the back of Hunter's neck and pushing his head forward, and leaning back only to fall onto the bed with Hunter on top of him. His body trembled slightly with desire and he locked his legs around Hunter, refusing to let him go. He wouldn't let Hunter slip away from him, not again.
Hunter pulled away, but kept pecking on Randy's lips. He will be forever addicted to the feel of those lips against his, and he wasn't regretting it. "We…. Can't…"
Randy stopped kissing, gulping hard and panting for breath. "I want you, Hunter."
"You're hurt," he replied, his hands gently caressing down the chiseled body of his former lover. "I don't want to hurt you more."
"Remember what you said earlier?" Randy whimpered, his fingers moving to Hunter's jeans, fumbling with the zipper. "You won't hurt me."
"Fuck," Hunter hissed when Randy took out his hard dick out of his jeans and stroked it. They both needed a release, but Hunter hesitated. Randy looked desperate as he looked up at Hunter.
"I need you," Randy released Hunter's cock, bucking his hips and making contact of their naked cocks. Hunter hissed in pleasure, pressing down Randy's crotch.
"You're gonna be the death of me one day, Randal," he said, grinding against Randy's groin loving the delightful moans the beauty gave. Their cocks slid against each other, pre cum oozing off the tips giving the need of lubrication. "You feel so good."
Randy just moaned gripping Hunter's shoulders as the older man bent his head, kissing every welt his lips could reach. Hunter took a hold of Randy's chin, tilting his head so he could kiss those lips again. He could never get tired of them, ever, and he wondered again why he let Randy slip away through his fingers. Growling in pleasure as the waves of heat pooled around the base of his cock, Hunter increased his pace, rubbing against the younger man. Randy was the first one to reach his edge, throwing his head back and mewling softly as he came. His hot cream coated Hunter's cock and the cocks rubbed together easily.
Seeing pure bliss on Randy's face Hunter kissed his exposed throat, grunting against the skin on Randy's neck as he reached his climax. Panting, he looked at the sight of both cocks coated in each other's seed. It was beautiful.
"Be mine?" Hunter asked his voice strong, and confident.
"What about-"
"Be mine?" Hunter growled, narrowing his eyes.
Hesitating only for a second, Randy lifted his head up and kissed Hunter's lips, biting down on the bottom lip in approval.
"Perfect," Hunter smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and sliding next to him on the bed, kicking off his jeans to the floor. He knew he would have a lot of crap to deal with tomorrow, and maybe he would have to find another job, but he didn't care.
All he needed was right there beside him.
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