Summary: Inspired by the Nascar Raw. Randy comforts himself the best way he can. AKA ' Auto - Erotica '
He was tired.
It had been a long, terrible night dealing with the fallout. But now, most things were better. He'd gotten Cody and Ted to clean up the mess, the paint, even if it meant hours of scrubbing.
He had watched. He was too good to get his hands dirty, especially filth from a person he considered lower class.
Now everything was fine.
No, not quite.
The love of his life was angry at him.
'Please talk to me!' Randy begged to no avail. He was still receiving silence from the other side of the room.
'You think I wanted that to happen? My car looks like road-kill now, even clean. I hate this as much as you do. '
Silence.
'Let me at least make it up to you.' Randy smiled, attempting seduction, bending down to kiss the lips he loved.
He ran his hands over the body, teasing the torso, the muscles, his fingers climbing lower and lower...
He stopped and gasped.
'Don't move. I'll make you feel good.'
He moved behind, felt the opening then slid deep inside.
He dove deeper, pumping hard, nearly losing control.
'I don't want you hate me.' Randy moaned. 'Cena left me for that zombie wannabe, don't you leave me. You're better than everyone else.'
The wetness ran down onto the floor. He stared at it and shrugged.
More for Ted and Cody to clean up.
Then he walked back to the front of the car, once again kissed his face, his body, the image of himself that paint had once covered.
Randy sighed and sat in the driver's seat of his car.
He grinned, perfectly evil and admired his reflection.
'I like your ride, Randy Orton.'