Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves
Rating: NC-17 for language, strong sexual content, slash
Genre: Slash, Drama, Angst
Disclaimer: We do not know, own or endorse any of the characters except any orginal characters that may come about in this work of fiction; the rest of the characters belong to WWE respectively. These characters are loosely based off of their TV personas. Thank you for not suing.
A/N: This is story is co-written with probably the best author of slash I have ever read, Reinvention. Our love of slash and WWE as brought us together to write one of the most poetic slash fics ever created. Between Reinvention's ability to tell a story and create imagery and my flair for porn and smut...this slash is going to be off the hook! Make sure you stop by his page and tell him how amazing he is!
Thank you for taking the time to check us out and we hope you enjoy! R&R
The Lies We Tell Ourselves
Invasive streaks of sunlight cut through the gaps in the cream colored blinds. The early morning rays of brilliant sunshine filtered harshly into the darkened hotel room, bringing the unflinching morning into focus. Pools of light centered around the room, as though spotlights rained down from hidden lights above.
A particularly warm beam of light centered on the large bed, burning directly into the face of Randy Orton. Whether the St. Louis native wanted it or not, it was acting as a definite wake up call. The warm sunshine had not gone unnoticed by the 'Legend Killer', slowly stirring him into a groggy morning haze. Both of his soft lips pursed at the rude wake-up call. It was not at all welcome. In a limbo between sleeping-and-waking, Randy couldn't be sure if he was still asleep, or once again awake. The answer came however, as the previous nights events began to filter softly into his memory with the speed and grace of a coffee percolator.
Bits and pieces of fleeting moments, and smoky half-felt feelings made a collage of sight and sound in his head. Groaning softly as flashes of last night came back to him, Randy realized the light was a certain sign that it was time to wake up.
Stirring slowly, his crystal blue eyes sparkled to life from behind a set of now opening eyelids. The dark lashes which had been resting on the pillows of his cheeks now framed each brilliant blue eye, as the orbs moved in gentle sweeping movements. Orton's eyes carefully moved around the room, the familiar features of the hotel and its contents falling into place before him. Just like his memory dictated last night, at the foot of the bed rested a wooden chest. Sprawled across the top was an assortment of clothes ranging from a shirt to a single shoe. Tilting his head softly, Randy realized with a rueful smirk that those grants weren't all his. A flash of his night in the club just a few hours ago captured Randy's attention briefly. The smoke machine sending billowing clouds across the dance floor broken by pulsating lights consumed him for the briefest of moments. The thought passed, and the morning fell back into the forefront of his attention.
Moving his head in line with his eyes, Randy's gaze fell upon the wooden chest-of-drawers opposite the bed. Another memory was conjured, this time of the activities after the club.
Randy could almost feel the taut body pressed against his. The curve of his lovers' bare, pert behind grinding against his naked crotch. The cheeks slapping against his muscular thighs in a rhythm of utter rapture. The exquisite memory of his engorged manhood spearing deep inside his partner caused Randy to sigh. The memory of his lover's body arching gracefully as it was forced to bend over the chest-of-drawers was about as much as he dared remember without causing a rush of blood to run altogether further south.
Still, Randy couldn't help but almost hear the sultry whisper of his name being said in the dark. That husky tone begging him to go harder, to push even deeper than he was. Licking his lips at the memory, the taste of a sweat and sex filled air was all Randy could feel.
Lost in his revelry no more, Orton mentally convinced himself to sit up. With a stifled yawn, his body sat bolt upright in one languid motion. The tattoo marking that inked the back of his neck and shoulders rippled as his body contorted, both arms stretching for the plaster finished ceiling above. The taut muscles of his back shifted as his fingers strained to reach even further toward the sky. With a gentle grunt, Randy lowered his arms back down to their regular position. Carefully, he began rolling his surgically repaired shoulder, rolling the socket to regain some feeling. As was customary every morning; a dull ache throbbed gently within the flesh, causing his scar to feel like it was being pressed into his flesh by the tip of a burning knife.
As the pain began to dissipate, Randy realized the brief stretching had caused the pearl-white satin sheet to fall from his body. The gentle wave of material had caressed its way down his bare torso, puddling around his muscled thighs. Looking down in what was a self-imposed awe, Randy's finger carefully traced the deep red blemished on his inner thighs. Left over from the night before, he smirked as the finger-nail marks were a shade of crimson against his other wise tan hips. Apparently, the night had been a little rougher than he had originally remembered.
Rubbing the flats of his palms over his face, Randy sighed. On the bedside table, a radio blinked in a crimson light, finally catching the young Legend Killer's eye. The numbers five-fifty-nine burned from the LCD display, flashing to life before Randy's gaze. It was a definite sign that it truly was time to get moving and to get up.
With as much care as he was capable of, Randy carefully slid across the bed, hopefully without disturbing the slumbered form in the bed next to him. Pulling the sheet free of his legs, he carefully laid it down on the bed. A human shaped lump stirred slightly, but did not seem to awaken. A mop of blonde hair was partially visible from beneath the covers. The face however, was still obscured. Tip-toeing across the room, Randy's eyes began searching from his clothes.
Thrown against the cupboard in the corner, Randy recognized his black Armani pants. Scooping them over one arm, he moved over to where one of his inordinately Gucci shoes was partially hiding beneath the bed. Not far from it, rested Randy's pale blue shirt. Grabbing it, it revealed the other missing shoe, as well as his socks. Smiling in his achievement, he snatched up the remaining items, adding them to the bundle in his arms.
Furrowing his brow, he realized something was missing. His underwear. Carefully placing the pile of clothes on the edge of the bed, Randy knelt on the ground. Shifting various other clothes, it seemed the underwear was determined to elude him.
Once again standing to his full height, Randy clucked his tongue as his hands rested neatly on his hips. A small ball of black material caught Randy's attention. The ball of black material was screwed into a tight orb, and rested against the wooden bed post. Bending down, Randy lifted it free, flatting the material as he did so.
The feeling a warm finger sliding its way from his lower back down into the cleft between his chiseled ass caused Randy to stand up straight. Sending a withering glance over his shoulder, Randy's blue eyes sparkled in amusement as the blonde head which had been hidden beneath the covers finally revealed the face that went with it.
Titling his own head, Randy realized that the other man could have been no older than his early twenties. Twenty-five at the absolute maximum. He had a wave of bright blonde hair that fell down in disheveled waves to graze his cheekbones. A pair of ocean green eyes glittered hazily from beneath his blonde brows, which were arched in interest. The man's plump pink lips were swollen - most likely from kissing, Randy reasoned. Amongst other things.
Innocently, his tongue slowly slid out from between the lips, running its way over the plump bottom lip. Curving into a smile, he seemed oblivious to the erotic effect it had on Randy. No stranger to flirting, Orton's face remained expressionless.
His lover groaned slightly as he stretched. Resting back on his elbows, he sat up slightly. The bed sheet fell down over his smooth chest, revealing an athletic torso. He was toned, with a little muscle definition across his chest. Perfect. Musing to himself, Randy hid the smile that touched his lips by turning around. Unscrewing the underwear, he sighed as he realized that these boxer shorts were definitely not his. Pursing his lips, Randy tossed them to the ground, as the man on the bed gently wrapped his arms around his bare body. The pads of his fingers felt their way down over Randy's chest, tracing the valley of his chest.
"Hey baby," he purred, lips dangerously close to Orton's ear. "Last night was mind-blowing." Taking the wrestlers ear lobe between his teeth, the blonde nibbled gently as his hands caressed down over Randy's stomach and lower again. "You were mind-blowing. No-one has ever made my body react the way it did last night. Nobody but you."
Smiling politely, even though the blonde couldn't see it, Randy said nothing. "Actually," the blonde continued. "I haven't really been with anyone other than you. Last night, that was my first time."
Oh shit. Randy's body immediately tensed as his worst nightmare seemed to manifest itself at once. The blonde didn't seem to notice as his lips carefully tasted Randy's exposed neck.
Get out. Get out now you idiot. Carefully untangling himself from the other man's arms, Randy took a measured step across the room. In reality, he wanted to run from the room screaming, but that couldn't happened when his RKO was hanging loose. Grabbing his pants, Randy still said nothing.
Undeterred, the blonde crawled across the bed, grabbing Randy's shirt. As the Legend Killer fasted the button his pants, the man on the bed slid himself into Randy's shirt. With a more lithe physique, he was somewhat drowned in blue material. Turning to see him in his shirt, Randy rolled his eyes. Extending his hand, he waited for his shirt to be given to him. The blonde playfully scooted backwards across the bed, motioning for Randy to come and get it.
Huffing out his breath, Randy took a step closer to the blonde. The other man took his chance. Leaning forward, the blonde seized Randy's hand in his own. Not given time to react, Randy felt himself pulled forward. Losing his balance, he toppled down onto the bed. Losing no time, his lover immediately straddled him, resting his hands on either side of Randy's shoulders.
With the other man on top of him, Randy felt his lips being crushed in a blistering kiss as the blonde leaned forward, pushing his lips on Randy. Rolling his eyes again, he returned the kiss. Resting his large hand on the back of the blonde's neck, he deepened the kiss, teasing the inside of the others mouth with carefully probes of his tongue. It was a dirty trick, using his experience and considerable pleasure-giving technique to placate the other man. But desperate times called for desperate measures, didn't they?
Before the blonde had realized it, Randy had loosened his shirt and pulled it free off his body. What the blonde had assumed was a warm up for fore-play, was Randy being sexually manipulative. Firmly planting his palm on the blonde's waist, Randy tipped him over to land on the bed. Free to move, Randy sat up off the bed, already sliding his shirt over his shoulders as the blonde moved back to rest on his shoulders.
Covering a look of hurt and confusion, he immediately up. Suddenly self conscious of his naked body, he carefully gathered the sheet around him, clasping it tightly over his legs as he watched Randy get completely dressed in under thirty seconds. If he didn't know better, the blonde would swear Randy had done speed-dressing before.
Now fastening his shoes, Randy stopped as he heard his name come out as an uncertain question. "Randy?"
"Yeah." Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Randy registered the confused look on the face of the blonde. Feeling a twist of emotion in his gut, Randy turned the rest of his body entirely to face the other man. The expression on his face was one of bewilderment, as though he couldn't fathom what Randy was doing. The Legend Killer almost felt guilty. Almost.
"Is everything okay?" The blonde inquired. Randy simply nodded his head once in response. Desperate not to say anymore, Randy hoped that would be the end of it. It seemed not. "Are you sure? Because, you don't seem okay…"
His voice trailed off at the expression clouding Randy's face. With his eyebrow arched, Orton regarded the blonde like he needed to be committed for what he had said. "How do I seem?"
"Like," clearly struggling for words, the blonde was crestfallen. If Randy's silence wasn't enough, being forced to explain his concern just made the whole situation worse. "Like…like you can't wait to leave."
Randy shrugged his shoulders. "You sound surprised." The statement cut deeper than any object ever could. It was the cold matter-of-fact delivery that did it, as thought the blonde were foolish for suggesting that Randy should be doing or reacting in a different way. Gulping down air, the blonde cast his eyes down to focus on his lap.
"Oh." Came the quiet reply. Sighing with an obviously disappointed tone, Randy stepped to his left, reaching to grab his watch from where is lay on the bedside table. Snatching his wallet in the same way, Randy noted that the display on his cell phone registered at least seven missed calls. Crossing the room towards the door, he winced as the blonde spoke again, stopping Randy in his tracks. "Don't you want to talk at all? I mean, about last night? At the club, it seemed like…"
"Like what?" Randy testily replied, whirling to face the blonde. He had shifted position on the bed, looking longingly at Randy. His inexperience might seem endearing to some, to Randy, it was just pissing him off. It was like being confronted with a stupid puppy that just would not leave you alone. At least with animals, you can put them down. Is there a cure for clingy blondes?
"I just thought…that maybe you liked me." Avoiding Randy's gaze, he was met with yet another impatient sigh. His shoulders sagged in defeat, now realizing he had completely misread Randy's intentions.
"Listen…uh…um…" Randy stopped, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the blonde's name. What was it? Tom? No. Tony? No, that's not it either. Tim? Tyler? Toby? I'm sure it begins with a 'tee'.
"Jerome." The blonde offered sadly. "My name is Jerome."
"Jerome, right…I knew that." Randy nodded briefly. "Listen Jerome, I don't know what you thought this was man, but I ain't up for talking and shit. Last night was a good time. I wanted you, you wanted me. We had sex. That's all it was. Just leave it at that, man. Don't try and make it something it wasn't, okay? Trust me, it'll be easier for you."
"Don't you like me? Not even a little bit?" Jerome's green eyes blinked, bursting with hope that this blasé response wasn't what Randy really meant.
"Last night I did, sure." Randy nodded, not really processing what the pained expression on Jerome's face meant. Glancing around the room, Randy felt uncomfortable simply standing in silence. He came. He saw. He fucked. Why was there always the morning after bullshit to deal with? Making a show of checking his watch, Randy glanced back up at the deflated blonde. "Hey Jerome, I have to go."
"Wait," Jerome cried, getting off the bed. Simply standing at the edge of the bed, holding the sheet around his waist, his eyes searched Randy's for some glimmer of hope. "Will I see you again? Can I?"
Randy nodded. "Sure you can." Jerome's face lit up in a huge smile, as he took a step closer to Randy. He stopped just as quickly however, as Randy reached down and gripped the door handle. "Every Monday. Nine PM. USA network. Take it easy man."
With a smirk, Randy pulled the door open. Stepping through the gap, he didn't glance back once as he pulled it to a close behind him. Jerome stood still in the room, without moving. His bottom lip quivered gently, as he tried to figure out what had just happened.
Walking slowly back across the room, Jerome reluctantly sat himself down on the bed. After what seemed like an eternity of still silence, Jerome sniffed. Reaching below one of the pillows, he pulled out a pair of black briefs, the ones which Randy had been searching for minutes earlier. Regarding them sadly, Jerome let them slip from his hand to floor beside the bed.
Just easily, his head fell into his hands, covering the gentle sob that echoed from his mouth.