My first ever one-shot. Complete smutty goodness. It's told in 2nd person and I'll leave it up to you to decide if the OC is male or female.

A/N: Italics = flashback

WARNING: Could contain slash if you choose to think of it that way...

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Randy Orton. Unfortunately, he belongs to WWE. Damn :-(

No beta or anything - this has been written in the last hour, so I apologise for any mistakes.

Enjoy ;-)

You sit on the couch, gazing into space. You can never sleep when he's not here. It's almost two, but you're wide awake. Your body literally aches; you toss and turn in bed, but nothing can get him off your mind. You even let your hand wander down your stomach, trying to re-create the patterns he always traces across your skin. But it's not the same. Even closing your eyes, concentrating hard, believing it's his hand instead of yours, it isn't the same.

It's been two weeks. Two long painful weeks. You hate to imagine what your phone bill is going to look like. Although it was definitely worth it.

"What are you doing?" he breathes down the phone. The slight hitch in his voice tells you that he's doing the same thing as you.

"Nothing," you manage to get out. Your hand teases. "You?"

"Nothing…" he groans. Pause. "Tell me…"

"Your hand."

"Where?"

"Where I like it."

"Like it?"

"Love it…" you moan, biting your lip as you hand speeds up ever so slightly.

His low growl sends a shiver up your spine. "I… fuck… if I was there…"

"I know…"

"Tell me what you'd like."

"I'd want you all around me. Wrapped around me. Deep…" you groan. "Deep inside me. Your mouth…"

"Where?"

"On me."

"Where?"

"On… on my neck," you decide.

"Tell me…"

"Where you always bite me."

He moans in reply.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask after a moment of hearing your breathing and his occasional grunt.

"I'm thinking about what I'm going to do you when I get home…"

That was the first night. But it pretty much repeated itself every other night. Sometimes at four in the morning. Sometimes eight in the evening. And sometimes at midday and you had to sneak into the bathroom at work and bite your fist as he groaned your name over and over again down the phone.

And now it's just one more night. Tomorrow… Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. Tomorrow he'll be here, holding you close, kissing you, telling you things that you know already but always long to hear again and again. He'll pull you against you at all times, he'll grope you at inappropriate times, he'll whisper things in your ear in the supermarket, making you blush, making you stare at him lustfully, making you think fuck the groceries… Only for him to just wander off, throwing a playful look over his shoulder, leaving you practically melting in the aisle.

You lean your head back, resting it on the arm of the couch. Stretching out, you tilt your head to the side and look at the collage of photos on the wall above the fireplace. Pictures of you, pictures of him, pictures of you together, pictures with friends. You smile and close your eyes.

The doorbell wakes you. Who the hell is calling round here at this time of night? You sit up and rub your eyes. You glance at your watch. Six. Seriously… You stumble to your feet and across the room into the hallway. The morning sunlight glows through the frosted glass, casting the hall in a pink and orange light. You can see a figure standing behind the door. The glass distorts their figure – it widens their upper body and their head.

You fumble with the locks, and then blink in the sunlight as you finally pull the door open.

You blink again. And again. Randy stands there, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"What…?" you mumble, still not quite believing what you're seeing.

Randy spreads his arms out and turns slowly on the spot. "All me…" he whispers.

You cock your head to one side, admiring the view.

"You said…" he starts.

"I know. I didn't think you…"

He reaches out and runs a finger down your cheek. "Anything for you."

It all sinks in. Randy is home. And he's standing in front of you looking like a fucking god. Your ultimate fantasy is in front of you, begging to be touched, to be played with.

"Where did you get it all…?"

He chuckles. "That's for me to know…"

"Is there anymore where that came from?"

"Maybe. Depends, what other fantasies are you harbouring in that mind of yours?"

You shrug. "A few…"

Finally, you reach out and touch him. You grasp at the red and black checked shirt that pokes out through the collar of the body-protector that's wrapped around his already hard and firm chest. You pull him through the door, your other hand sliding down to his jeans, grasping at the over-sized belt buckle and pulling him close. The leather chaps graze against your bare thighs. The rim of the cowboy hat hits your forehead as you stretch up to claim his lips.

His hands cup your face gently, his mouth soft and warm. He moves you back slowly, further into the hall. You're completely unaware of your surroundings until your back hits the wall and Randy's mouth eases off. Your hands are busy fumbling with the belt-buckle. It doesn't want to give in and it's frustrating you. You let out a little whine of impatience. He chuckles, his breath tickling your cheek.

"So impatient…" he murmurs.

"Like you aren't."

You shiver remembering all the desperate fucks you had before he left. In the shower, on the kitchen table, in the garage against the truck, in the truck, in the parking lot… You didn't wash for two days, wanting to savour the smell and taste of him on your skin for as long as possible.

"Missed you," you moan as his mouth starts on your neck.

"Missed you too," he replies.

Your shirt, or rather his shirt that you've stolen, rides up. The belt-buckle digs into your stomach, cold but welcome. You crook your leg around his, grinding against his thigh. God, it feels good. Randy pops open a few of your shirt buttons, his mouth sliding down your throat painfully slowly. He licks the skin he's exposed tenderly.

The hardness of the body-protector is too much for you to bare all of a sudden. You need to feel his heat against you. You need to feel the real him. You fumble with the Velcro, tugging it in whatever way it will go. After a few seconds, you free onside and slide your hands underneath. The back of his shirt is drenched in sweat already. You slide your hand back down and peel the material off his skin, slowly tracing patterns across his lower back with your fingers.

He moans against your chest, vibrations going like shockwaves over your skin. Everything suddenly picks up speed. He grasps your hips and shoves you forcefully back against the wall, even though you hardly move. You groan. It echoes around the hallway. His teeth sink into your skin just below your collarbone. You hiss. But something stirs between your legs. You want more. Lots more.

"Bed," you mumble.

"Here."

"No."

"Here…" he pulls away and looks at you with eyes that he knows you can never resist.

You shake your head. "I want to appreciate all of this."

He laughs and your stomach flips. "All of this?" He pulls away and turns around. You can't resist but slap his ass. He throws you a look over his shoulder. You bite your lip; you're in trouble now. He reaches for you and pulls you into his arms, his hands snaking down your back to your ass. He grabs a handful and squeezes, making you squeal. And then you moan as he massages the pain away.

Without warning, he lifts you up effortlessly and throws you over his shoulder. His mouth nips at the back of your thigh as he carries you upstairs.

"You win," he murmurs against your skin.

You grin at his ass. You rarely win. But when you do, god it feels good. And not only have you won, you've won with Randy at your mercy, as your fantasy. Although, you know that it'll switch and you'll be the one begging for mercy… Sweet fucking mercy.

He sets you down the right way up in the doorway to your bedroom. You lean against the doorframe, eyeing him up. He narrows his eyes for a moment, as if deciding something. Slowly, he takes off the cowboy hat.

You pout.

"What?"

"I liked it."

He places it on your head, his fingers threading through your hair for a brief moment. You shiver. "You look better in it."

You shake your head. "No… you…"

But you don't finish. You're mesmerised as he rids himself off the body-protector and you see the front of the shirt is sticking to him so much that it practically outlines his abs. You reach out tentatively and tug the buttons out of their holes. He grazes his fingers up and down your arms as you do.

Closing the gap between you both, you press your mouth against his chest, your tongue licking at the thin layer of sweat. You've missed his taste, the smell of him. You can't resist biting the tender skin around his nipples. He growls, his hand coming up to clasp the back of your neck.

You slide down further, practically on your knees. His hand slides up the back of your neck, into your hair, knocking the cowboy hat out of place. He tosses it aside, as you finally come to rest, your mouth level with the skin just above his jeans and the impossible buckle. You look up at him, pleading with your eyes to help him. He doesn't need another hint. His fingers graze against your cheeks, your chin, your lips, as he undoes the buckle. He starts to undo the clasp to the chaps, but you stop him with a look. He rolls his eyes and then licks his lips. You leave the top button of his jeans done up, but push open the fly, un-popping the four cool buttons slowly. You hope that you know him as well as you think you do… that he's gone commando… Just how you both like it.

You slide your hand inside, stroking him with your thumb. He groans above you. His hand grips the back of your head, his hips thrusting forward, his cock pushing through the gap in his jeans. You slide your hand over him, blowing cool air over the tip. He grunts. You stick your tongue out and trace the underside of his length, down to the base and back up again. He moans your name and you give in, sliding your mouth over the tip and down. His fingers dig into your head. You clutch at the chaps holding him where you want him.

"Fuck…"

You twist your tongue over his tip over and over again, each time enticing an illicit moan from his mouth, which goes straight to your core. He flicks his hips forward, forcing his cock further into your mouth. His fingers twist around your hair, as you feel him tense and then release. You let him slide from your mouth and then look up at his face. His eyes are half-closed, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Randy…" you murmur. His eyes flicker open and he looks down at you. His mouth forms a small smile and he strokes the side of your face. He reaches down and pulls you up. You grab the cowboy hat on your way

His cock presses against your thigh suggestively, as you place the hat on his head.

"Fuck me," you breathe against his lips.

Everything goes a bit hazy. He pushes you towards the bed, peeling his shirt off as he goes. He fumbles with his jeans and chaps. Our hands crash together as you try to help him. He leave you to it and tugs at your shirt, tearing it open and throwing it to the floor.

You turn to face the bed for a moment and then he grabs your waist, his mouth hot on the back of your neck.

"Like this…" he moans.

You nod in agreement, letting him push you forward onto your knees. He kisses his way down your back, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. His teeth graze your lower back as he tugs the waistband down with his mouth. His fingers do the rest, moving between your legs, making you moan and almost collapse on the bed.

He chuckles, leaning over you, capturing your earlobe, sucking, tugging, making you groan his name as he rubs the tip of his cock over your entrance. His hands grip your hips, pushing into you firmly. Your back arches involuntarily. He reaches around and grasps you, pulling you upright and flush against his chest. His teeth sink into your neck as one hand slides down your chest, your stomach and between your legs slowly teasing you, bringing you to a complete wreck in his arms.

Sweat slides down your neck, mixing with his. You stick together as he thrusts into you over and over again, your body going limp in his arms. You can't feel your legs anymore. You can't focus on anything.

Except his voice calling out your name, growling your name, moaning your name as you feel him explode inside you.

Fin. x