A/N - I have no idea where the hell this came from. It's probably down to these 3 being their awesome selves and that super awk yet adorable hug from Raw this week lol. This will be a 5 parter at the very most and I don't even know what it wants to be yet but here we go again. It's also primarily a Randy Orton story so yeah, there's that...enjoy...
Should I give up...or should I just keep chasing pavements...Even if it leads nowhere? Or would it be a waste...Even if I knew my place...Should I leave it there?
He couldn't lie to himself any more. Yes, the thought had crossed his mind. More than once. Sometimes when he was lying in bed at night he would close his eyes and see things he shouldn't see. Maybe he'd been knocked over the head a few times too many. Maybe he was imagining things that weren't there. Maybe it was the way she smiled at him. Maybe it was just her and the fact that he couldn't deny his attraction to her if he tried. Not anymore. She was beautiful to the point that it took his breath away if he stared too long. But he was careful, because staring too long would get him caught. And he couldn't get caught. Not with thoughts like these.
Randy Orton sighed heavily and ran a hand over his weary face. It had taken him practically two years to work his way back to the top of the mountain. His tired blue eyes caught a glimpse of the shiny gold belt hanging over the black folding chair just an arm's length away. For the first time in three years he was once again WWE Champion and had been promised a run at the top heading into Wrestlemania. And truthfully he thought that he deserved it. He took his punishment without complaint, he went to Smackdown without complaint, he lost to Sheamus, Barrett, Henry, everybody and anybody without a hostile word and he was happy to do it. Not too long ago he had reached the conclusion that losing wasn't going to kill his career. He was too over. That wasn't ego talking either, it was just a fact. A few years ago a wise man and a good friend told him that he had reached the promised land with the fans. They were going to cheer him no matter what. At times it was frustrating, especially now when he was trying to get heat. But he wasn't alone. He had The Shield out there backing him up most nights and he had the man who had been his mentor basically from day one; he had Hunter. But Paul had come to mean so much more to him than a mentor. When he was young and stupid, Paul was the voice of reason trying to keep him on the straight and narrow. When he was high on drugs and wasting his life away, it was Paul's disappointed stare that cut deepest. When he had his daughter, it was Paul who straight up told him that he couldn't afford to be an idiot anymore. When he got suspended for the second time, it was Paul who broke the news. When he was going through his divorce, it was Paul who was his sounding board. From the second he was called to the main roster, Paul had been the one constant, the guiding hand along the way. He always believed in him no matter how many times he screwed up and that was something Randy valued more than most things in this world. He respected Paul, hell; he probably even loved him a little bit, like an older brother. He could always count on that reassurance and support when he needed it. That's why his recent thoughts cut him like a knife. He let out another heavy sigh and got to his feet, his tired limbs aching from the exertion. Tiny drops of sweat rolled from his taut abs into the black material of his trunks.
"Shower," he called to himself. The show had ended around two hours ago but he was still here, trapped with his sinful desires. He kicked off his boots and removed the rest of his gear before heading to the cubicles. As the hot stream of water hit his tight shoulders he instantly let out a satisfied groan. The steam created a sizzling cloud around his form and he revelled in how good it felt as his body started to unwind. He pressed his forearm against the wall and leaned against it, his eyes slipping shut. Being in front of a live audience was a thrill like no other but when the match was over and you were left alone at the end of the night, when the adrenaline wore off, it hit you like a ton of bricks. Right now, Randy could feel each brick pelting into him making him feel heavy. He grew distracted and out of nowhere his mind had drifted to a place he forbade himself to go yet he couldn't seem to stay away from. She flashed through his brain in all manner of inappropriate forms. Her hair, her face, her deep blue eyes. Her endless legs, her tight ass, the curve of her hips. Fuck it was happening again. The blood began to beat in his ears as it rushed between his legs. He couldn't stop himself as his hand reached down and took his growing erection into his grasp.
"Shit," Randy groaned, his hand slowly beginning to pump. The feel of the water on his skin and the tight pulls of his hand combined with the image of her bent over and waiting for him enticed a guttural reaction. He rolled his thumb around his tip, now imagining her on her knees before him, those big blue eyes looking up seductively as she took him into her mouth. His mouth grew dry and with that thought dominating his mind, he gave in and began to push his hips forward, his body and hand working together to provide as much gratification as possible. She was straddling him now, her gaze locked with his as she lowered herself and took him inside her, her hips rocking into his over and over. He began to lose it, his heavy moans and groans mixing with the water as it beat into the tiled floor.
He licked his lips, completely lost in the moment. "Stephanie….fuck, Stephanie…." His voice was barely a whisper, his throat and chest tight. In his mind he was buried inside her and taking them both places they'd never been. He could her hear screams, her calling his name. It was incredible. His hand was pumping vigorously now, seconds from climax. His head lightly smacked against the wall as he let go, a sudden weight lifting from his shoulders as his hips quivered, riding out the wave of pleasure that engulfed him.
"Jesus," was all he could muster as he turned and rested his back against the wall. From such a high he was now experiencing a horrible low as the guilt set in. The first time he had these thoughts he laughed them off. The second time he ignored it. The third, fourth and fifth times it started to scare him. Now it was past the point of being able to be controlled. Thinking about her was one thing. What he had done tonight was act on those thoughts. It may have been a private act but it still happened. He wanted her enough to touch himself in an arena where just a few hours ago he had stood side by side with both her and a certain somebody else. Randy's eyes shut in despair. What was he supposed to do when he had just got off on the mental image of fucking another man's wife? And not just any man. Paul was his friend and mentor. Paul was his boss. Paul was Stephanie's husband.