Heyya guys, this is so not the Centon story I wanted to post first. This plot popped out of nowhere and I couldn't do anything until I wrote it down. It's 2 am now, and I couldn't sleep until I typed it down lol. I don't know if this is any good though. Anyways, this will be a three shot. I wanted to post it as a one shot, but, it's very long, so I had to split it. Hope you'd like this.

Warnings- M/M slash, Non con sex, cursing etc etc.

Disclaimer- I own none of these guys, I wish I owned them though.

Chapter- 1/3

As soon as he opens the door to the interrogation room, he finds him standing in the middle of the room with those blue eyes, which holds the depth of an ocean. Those eyes stir things in him, he doesn't want to feel, and it angers him, frustrates him to no end. He takes carefully measured slow steps at the other man, enjoying the wary look in his face. It's no wonder the man is so cautious, after all, he made sure to take his anger, frustration at him in their previous meetings. Randy stares straight into the ocean blue eyes.

"Tell me what you did with the money, Cena"

"Fuck off Orton"

Before he can comprehend what's happening, the other man pushes him away, with such strength and fury he'd never noticed in him before. It makes him snap inside, all the patience he had in him, disappears just like that. He doesn't like people back talking to him, or manhandling him. He's not going to let a worthless criminal treat him that way.

In absolute uncontrollable rage, Randy, swings his arm back and slaps John right across the face, making his head tilt to the side at the sheer force of impact. He doesn't stop at that, Randy brings a knee and kicks the other man in the stomach making him bend over, coughing. Another kick makes him fall onto his knees. He hovers over the fallen man and pins him onto the cold dirty floor, the cuffs make it easier to keep him in one place.

John tries to get up, only to realize Randy has pinned him to the floor. His jaw hurts, although it was a slap still it was strong, the pain in his body is immense. Under a normal condition he wouldn't have fallen down so quickly, but after many days of beatings he doesn't have much strength in him. Then he feels it, Randy's body on his. John's eyes widens in realization of what's going to happen. He's not ready for this, not again. He's still, sore as hell from their earlier rounds. He can't. He tries to crawl away from Randy to no avail.

"Where's that shitty attitude now?" Randy whispers as he puts his full weight on Cena.

"Fuck you Orton" John spits out the words; he's not going to beg. He's got a ton of a pride left before he pleads or begs.

This pisses off Randy like never before. He is never good at keeping his anger at bay, he's the type of person who strikes first and asks questions later, and right now all he wants to do is strike. The anger boils in him, wanting to cause havoc on the other man. Randy is the one in control, not the other way around. It is about time Cena learned it. He brings a hand around Cena's throat, squeezing tightly, increasing the pressure little by little, he watches in absolute satisfaction when the other man starts to struggle.

John struggles, desperately using his cuffed hands to free himself from Randy's hold; he doesn't know how much he can hold on, without giving up. The need to give up overwhelms him. Finally, Randy lets go of his throat, but doesn't get off of him. Squeezing his eyes shut, John coughs, breathing rapidly and taking some much needed oxygen into his lungs. He uses his legs to kick Randy away, but fails miserably as Randy grabs onto his legs and holds them tightly.

However, John is also much stronger than Randy anticipated. John doesn't give up. One kick from him sends Randy sprawling backwards. Forcing himself onto his stomach, he drags his body near the door; as if; it would do him any good. He knows that, nobody would come to help him. Even the cameras in the room are switched off. All he wants to do is get away from Randy, but, he's not lucky at all.

Randy stands up in one swift motion, and kicks John on to the side of his stomach. The fuming man enjoys the cry of pain that erupts from Cena. The sight is fucking beautiful. Cena doubled over, sputtering and coughing makes his anger subside to some level, but not completely. He wants him fully broken. Randy doesn't wait to waste any time, he forcefully flips Cena onto his stomach and lands a knee to his back. He kicks the vulnerable man again and again.

The other mans grunts and cries are music to his ear, it shows that the fight has clearly left Cena. Now, all he has to do is break him completely, and yet, he feels something deep inside him, telling him to stop hurting this man, something in him tells that he's making a big mistake, though, he's not sure what it is, he brushes it off of his mind. This is not the first time he's doing this, and this is a fucking criminal who he needs to get the truth out from.

"What did you do with the money" Kneeling down near the fallen man, he asks again, though, he's pretty sure the man wouldn't talk. The man is stubborn, and Randy has dealt with stubborn men.

"Tsk…tsk… I gave you a chance, too bad you didn't use it."

John's whole body goes rigid, knowing what is to come. He tries to stand up, but falls again to the ground. He's not sure if he can survive anymore. The anger inside him is transformed into pity, pity at his own helplessness.

Randy smirks at the helpless man. His cock gives an interesting jerk when he notices the shaking man. He swallows, with lust. Running his tongue on his upper lip, Randy circles the fallen man. The need to see him naked, to pump into that perfect ass makes his cock dance inside his pants. Apart from the lust and rage, there's something else too, which he can't exactly pinpoint. He doesn't wait to find out what it is; he pulls down his jeans and throws them to the side, eyeing Cena, who hasn't moved a bit from his earlier position.

The other is, still in a coughing fit, shaking, and in taking sharp breaths, but he's too aroused to give a shit about Cena. The lust inside him doesn't want to take any long. He pulls down John's pants, being careful not to tear them apart and stares at the now completely naked ass.

His cock twitches in anticipation to be inside of the criminal. He is hard already, pre cum leaks from his member. He strokes himself a bit, using the pre cum to lubricate his cock. He doesn't try to prep the other man, or use some actual lube; he's not in the mood to be generous. Even if he wanted to prep him, how on hell would he find some lube inside an interrogation room? Besides, this is a fucking criminal, not some lover he needs to be careful with.

Randy holds onto the shaking criminal's hip with one hand while bringing the tip of his full hard cock on Cena's pucker, chuckling inwardly as the other man's muscles tense, at the sudden wetness of his cock on his ass. The heat that radiates from the insides of John is a drug he can't resist, with one swift thrust he pushes his cock into him, ignoring the cry, as well as the voice in his head, which keeps screaming at him to stop doing this to the other man.

John clenches his cuffed hands, shutting his eyes, and breathes hard at the intrusion. He tries to tune out from the unbearable pain. Tears wells up in the corner of his eyes, but he forces them to stay put. He can take this. This is not the first time he's experiencing this treatment from Randy. Randy jams his cock into his ass tearing his inside walls, and pulls out before slamming in again. It's all he can do not to scream at the burning sensations in his ass.

John doesn't struggle anymore. He can't and he doesn't have any strength left. The pain in his abdomen, back and ass is too much for him to handle. There's nothing more he wants to do than to curl into a ball and wait for the pain vanish, but with every thrust he knows it's not going to happen. Every time he tries to open his eyes, his vision blurs.

He tries to get comfortable in the least way. He feels Randy's hot breath on his neck. The other man starts to bite on the flesh of his neck, more like marking him. It's painful to him, especially knowing this man won't give a shit about him after the sex. If this can be called sex, that is. It's even more painful when he doesn't get any pleasure from this, it's always about him.

Randy thrusts hard and fast, burying his cock deep in his ass. Fuck! He gasps as Randy continue to slam into his hole. It makes him bite down on his own lip. The son of a bitch doesn't even slow down a bit, to at least make him enjoy this.

"You've got a fucking tight ass John"

Those words makes him freeze, it's not the somewhat, nasty insulting compliment which freezes him. It's the call of his name that makes him freeze. Randy hasn't called him "John" since his arrest many days ago. He must have imagined that, because now there's no trace or a sign to show Randy had said something like that. The words have vanished into the thin air. He feels nauseous all of a sudden.

The room fills with Randy's grunts and moans as he thrusts deeper and deeper into him, this time hitting his prostate, It sends tingling sensations through his body, therefore somewhat helping to stop the nauseous feeling. He arches his back at the contact, to get that feeling back. Randy's hold on his hips tightens; he slams his cock into John's stretched hole, purposely avoiding his prostrate. His thrusts become more brutal.

John dug his nails into the dirty floor, as if it would stop the hurting. Is it so wrong to feel something instead of the pain? Can't the man let him have at least a little pleasure out of this instead of the pain? Tears threaten to fall, but as always his will power stops them from escaping his eyes. He feels the ragged breathing of the other man on his neck. His moans, the cock slamming in and out of his bruised hole are the only noise in the room.

He's week, considering the entire beat downs he received from the other man when he had arrested him almost one week ago. "Orton doesn't give a shit about rights and laws when it came to criminals", he had heard it many times, but this s the first time he had ever witnessed it.

He never expected his Randy to be 'Randy Orton the cop' , but he was more than a criminal. They had something. He fucking loved the guy, and this is what he gets in return. He still loves Randy and he's sure it ain't a fucking Stockholm syndrome thing. He loves the guy too much and it hurts. It hurts him more than anything else in the world. This physical torture he can take, but the emotional torture is the real punishment for him. He can't even fucking hate the guy, the pull Randy has over him is stronger than anything else. Deep down inside he knows that Randy loves him. The sad part is, the man is never going to admit it.

Sweat runs down his whole body, with every passing minute his body becomes more spent and week. He feels wetness in his thighs. Fucking great, he is bleeding. Suddenly, Randy pulls out of him; his relief is short lived as Randy grabs onto his hips and flips him onto his back, making him groan as a sharp pain shoots through his whole body. The sudden change of position doesn't hurt any less than before, the only difference is; he gets to stare right into his tormentor's eyes. Is that what he wants?

Randy keeps his grim face intact, and pumps his cock into him, again, managing to keep eye contact all the time. He loves the painful grimace on Cena's face, his pained expressions. Even He doesn't know why he is doing this. He shouldn't be banging a criminal, no matter how fuckable his ass is .

The other man is in pain, he can see it clearly. The satisfaction he had slowly starts to fade away. Those eyes are staring at him with so much pain and questions. Randy, quickly averts his eyes away from the criminal, annoyed at these feelings.

John wants to touch the other man, to feel him, or at least to make himself feel something apart from the brutal fucking, though, he's hesitant at first, knowing Randy doesn't like touching, he still brings his cuffed hands and wraps them around the bastard of a cop. The other man is far too busy in his own pleasure he doesn't notice this at all, or is he letting it slide?

John doesn't care anymore, he's too tired to care, his whole body is in pain and he's burning. He feels as if somebody has cut him to pieces and put red pepper chilly on the wounds. It fucking hurts with every push he gets. He wishes the floor would open up and swallow him. But instead of that he finds Randy lifting his thighs a bit higher before thrusting again, with every thrust he manages to leave a scrape mark on his ass.

John knows Randy's nearing his climax. His thrusts become much more powerful and hard. His breath becomes more ragged, the telltale twitch in Randy's cock is the only warning he gets before Randy, fills his warm thick essence inside him, making it the end of another forced sex round.

Randy doesn't pull out immediately; he falls onto John's chest completely spent. John lets out a cry of pain as; Randy's body connects with his abdomen. It hurts too much on the inside. He can't even fucking cry. He wants to let the tears out, but his pride stops him from doing that. Randy's warm cum drips down his legs, the only proof of their encounter.

This is how it goes it with them every day. Randy's visits to the room, his questions about the money and him telling to fuck off, and the kicks, then the extremely rough sex. He's not going to survive any longer. He feels that. The man on top of him starts to move. Now, that he got what he wanted, he's got no reason to stay any longer. This is the part where he hates the most. He can take any torture Randy puts him through, but this leaving hurts him more than anything else. Is it too much to ask for some comfort?

Randy stands up with a satisfied grunt and gets dressed in a very calm manner, eyeing him from the corner of his eyes, admiring the broken mess of a man he had made. He pulls up his trousers and zips it up.

"You're going in for many years"

John laughs, it's not sarcasm just a painful laugh.

"Listen, you piece of shit, you shouldn't be laughing. Trash like you deserves to rot in prison forever. I know guys like you. What do you think; people will get smitten over your dimples and million dollar smile?"

"You don't know shit about me Orton."

John says as he tries to stand up, but grunts and sits down, another grunt escapes his throat as his sore ass connects with the floor. His whole body is in pain, he feels as if somebody has split him open, and to make it worse he feels the nausea coming back.

Orton frowns, not only at the comment but also at the notorious criminal's sudden drastic paleness in skin, but he shrugs it off as nothing. This is a fucking criminal not some saint.

"I know enough to send you in for 10-15 years. Your days are numbered…John" He adds the name, and smirks as the other man glances at him with hopeful eyes, only to be crushed.

He loves playing these games with his prisoners, to hurt them and give them a little hope, so he could break them later, but, he can see, this man is powerful. He's not broken.

John offers a smirk of his own. For a man who is in a lot of pain, it's rather amusing how he still manages to pull that smirk off without making it look like a grimace, because, the need to pass out is overwhelming him.

"Why are you really here, Randy? You got what you wanted. You got me in a damn cell room. Your mission is accomplished Randy. Your job ends there, but, why do you still come to this room? Is it because you want to torture me? Is it really because you want to know what I did with some fucking money? "John braces himself for another punch or kick. He's walking on dangerous grounds, but he wants Randy to understand, if that is the last thing he ever does.

The cop stands in the middle of the room, scowling at the other man's boldness to question him. Is the criminal trying to get into his head? Fucking bastard has the nerve to question him. He launches forward, to beat the living shit out of Cena, but stops himself when Cena doesn't so much as try to move. It's like the man has given up, and this bothers him a lot. For fucks sake, what the hell is wrong with him?

"Do you think I care for you? He forces out a mocking laugh. "Are you implying that I love you or some fucking bullshit?" He ignores the brief flash of pain on the other man's face. "I don't care for you. Like I said you're garbage, nothing else." The words feel so wrong, but still, he forces them out.

"When I come back next time, you better have an answer to my question." With that Randy leaves the room, with a bitter taste in his mouth and baffled at his own feelings.

John's heart screams at Randy asking him to stop, begging him, pleading him, but his more rational mind doesn't let the words out of his mouth.

He stands up, somehow managing to pull up his worn out jeans. A sudden dizziness coils around him, making him sweat. The pain in his body intensifies multiple times more. Holding onto the wall, swaying, he slowly walks towards the small bed. As soon as he reaches the bed, he sits down and buries his head on his knees, his cry of pain goes unheard within the four walls.

John slowly lifts the dark shirt and grunts as a sharp pain shoots through his whole body. Thick crimson blood drips from his stomach. The small wound he had received when Randy had arrested him is now opened wide. Now, he realizes why he is feeling so disorientated and nauseous. Randy's kicks must have opened the wound.

He stares at his own blood, helpless to do anything. The other man would not come for a long time. Nobody would come for a long time. There's nothing he can do to stop the blood. He tries to lie on the small bed, but groans as his back hits the rough mattress. Even the slightest bit of movement hurts.

"There won't be a next time Randy. There won't be. I'm sorry. I wish you'd just admitted Randy" John murmurs, before closing his eyes, silent tears drops from his closed eyelids.

OMG Guys, I'm cruel. Aren't I? What can I do, I've a thing for a vulnerable John plus some angst. But, seriously, I have to stop writing angst, especially at 2 am in the morning. Like I said guys, I don't know if this is any good. I'm totally new to writing slash. Tell me what you thought in a review. There are only two more chapters left.