So, about 5 mins ago, this would not have been posted. Silly . Anyway, it's here now. So I'll shut up and you can get scroll down and get reading.
A/N: Italics are the past. Regular is the present - watch out for it, I'm mixing it up in this one.
WARNING: Just a huge helping of slash. Hello!
DISCLAIMER: a) I don't own Randy Orton. b) I don't own Cody Rhodes either and c) I have an unreliable knowledge of history.
Hope you likey - there is at least one more chapter after this. All will be explained. I promise.
Part 2
Cody is outside as usual, but today I can't see his face – his umbrella shields my usual view. I forgot mine. In my haste to leave the office, I didn't remember to pick it up from the coat stand.
"Hey," I say.
He glances up, a smile cracking his face in two and then he frowns. "Do you work in a basement or something? Didn't ya notice the weather?"
I shrug, only then noticing that I'm shivering.
"C'mon," he sighs, grabbing my arm and pulling me under the shelter of the umbrella. "Have you heard? They closed down the bar."
"What? Why?" Panic races through me. Is this it? The bar, one of the last in the neighbourhood, was the one thing that we had in common here.
"What d'you think? The cops got wind of it, the booze was stopped coming in, the usual."
"What do we do now?"
"Huh? Well, I... my apartment isn't far from here. I thought... I have..." he lowers his voice, "I've got a bottle of something... A guy at work, he's got a guy..."
"Yeah, yeah, sounds great."
"Really?" He sounds surprised.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Why not indeed," Cody grins.
Cody's apartment is surprisingly closer to mine than I first thought. I recognised the streets and realised that I must walk within a block of his place every day. He leads the way up the stairs and opens the door with a flourish.
"Welcome to the penthouse," he laughs. I gaze around the single room with a small smile. A bed, complete with rumpled sheets is in the corner, papers, shirts and various other items strewn across it. A table by the window, with two mix-matched chairs, is also covered in papers, an overflowing ashtray and empty glasses. In the other corner is a dresser, the drawers broken. A door hangs off its hinges and from the bent hangers that peek from behind it, I realise it must be the closet. Two floor cabinets make up the barely-there kitchen.
"It's not much, I know," Cody starts to make excuses as he attempts to clear space for me at the table.
"Don't worry, my place is nothing to look at either. I don't think anyone here has more than this."
He grins. We both know that's not true.
"Sit," he gestures. "I'll get the drinks."
I watch as he grabs two glasses and rinses them in the sink. The pipes creak and groan, the water coming in sudden spurts. He shakes them dry and then crouches down and pries up one of the floorboards. I hear glass hit the lead water pipes and Cody hisses. Slowly, he retrieves the bottle, thankfully still intact.
He sits down, places a glass in front of me and pours. I wait until he pours his own and then raise my glass.
"To you."
"To me?"
"For offering up your apartment and booze."
He smiles shyly. "Here's to you for joining me."
We gulp, wipe our mouths and then both reach for the bottle at the same time. My hand covers his. Neither of us move.
"Sorry," I murmur. But I don't make any attempt to withdraw my hand.
"No problem."
I glance at him and notice with a jolt that his eyes are fixated on my hand and his. His eyes flicker and suddenly they're staring straight at me. I want to look away. I need to look away. I have to look away. It's like he's daring me to make the first move. But what is the first move? What is it that he's daring me to do? Look away? Move my hand from his? Or something... Something else?
But I hesitate a second too long. Cody looks away and his hand slips from under mine, accompanied with his murmur to help myself. As he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and fumbles to light one, I lift the bottle and top up his glass before my own. This time though, there's no toast and he downs his glass before I can even fill mine.
Silence envelopes us. I stare at the table, fixated on one of the many stains that cover it's surface. I don't dare look up. I'm too embarrassed, too ashamed. Of what, I'm not sure. Of my hesitation? Maybe. Of my assumption that perhaps, just perhaps, I wasn't the only one alone with this idea that there was something more than just friendship between us? Definitely. If there was something more, wouldn't he have leaned over the table and confirmed my suspicions?
Or is he has afraid as I am? Afraid to take a chance, to risk everything? And is he now doing the same as me – wondering how long we have to drag this drink out for until we can part ways and forget it ever happened? We will both say our goodbyes, tell each other we should do this again sometime, but make no firm plans. I will leave, wander a block or two back to my apartment and tomorrow? Tomorrow I'll take the long way round to work. And afterwards, I will turn left instead of right out of the building and head straight home.
Yes, that's what will happen. And will continue to happen into the distance future, until all thoughts of Cody are eradicated.
I lift the glass to my lips and tip my head back. I'm all ready to place the glass back on the table, glance at my watch and make my excuses. I am ready to walk out of his apartment and head back to solitude.
"Another?"
Cody offers the bottle, his glass already full. His eyes are questioning, searching. Searching for the same reassurance that I am?
I nod dumbly. What harm will it do?
"So, this guy of your's? Do you think he'll be able to fix me up too?" I ask, desperate to break the painful silence.
Cody shrugs. "I guess. But I would've thought you already had someone to hook you up?"
I shake my head. "No such luck."
"He charges."
"I can cover it."
"I'll ask."
"Thanks."
It's a blatant lie on my part. I have my own bottle of whiskey, hidden under my own floorboards. But I had to say something. Anything to dissipate the thick awkward silence. Not that it worked. The only sound I can hear is the pipes creaking under the floorboards and the soft rumble of passersby on the street below.
Perhaps we've exhausted all possible avenues of conversation with our previous drinking expeditions. We have covered everything in the past. And neither of us seems particularly keen to re-hash certain stories, anecdotes or we haven't exactly fallen into comfortable silence. I can tell from the pensive look on Cody's face that he's constantly wracking his brain for something, anything to say. Carefully calculating if what he's thinking will sound the same if spoken out loud. I watch as his tongue slips out and wets his lips, but he seems to change his mind at the last second and no words are uttered.
Instead, he gestures at the bottle and I nod.
We take it in turns. The ashtray continues to over-flow, as the bottle steadily empties. It's only when I casually reach for my glass and end up knocking it sideways, that I realise how drunk I am.
"Shit, sorry." Whiskey cascades over the table and drips onto the floor. I shift my chair back and stare helplessly at the mess.
"Don't worry about it," Cody mumbles, a cigarette between his lips. He gets up and grabs a dirt-ridden cloth from the sink. He stoops down and wipes lazily.
"Maybe I should go..." I mutter. I try to get to my feet, but my legs get tangled in air and I stumble.
Cody laughs. "For a big guy, you sure can't hold your liquor."
I scowl, rubbing my head which is already starting to pound.
"Sit down." Cody stands up and walks back to the sink. He rummages in a cupboard and pulls out a spare glass, which he fills with water.
"Sit," he says again as he offers me the glass. "Drink."
I sit. I drink. I watch how he watches me, his eyes slightly narrowed, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. And then he shakes his head and looks out of the window.
"What?" I mumble.
"I didn't say anything."
"Why shake your head?"
"I was... I was just thinking." He fumbles with the cigarette pack and realising that it's empty, throws it to the floor in frustration.
"Have one of mine," I push my pack towards him. He accepts it with out a word. Smoke drifts towards me and I inhale deeply.
My thoughts start to drift too. What was he thinking? Why the shake of the head? And does he always play with his bottom lip like that? Does he know how hypnotising that is? Does he know that when I was 16, I kissed someone who did that to my lip? Does he know how that made me feel? Does he know that right now, I'm thinking about him doing that to me?
No, of course he doesn't. Most likely he was wondering how much longer he needs to put up with me in his apartment, before he can push me out of the door.
"I should go," I say again, this time with more determination.
"Stay."
"No, really. I need to go."
He stares at me with wide eyes. "Please?"
"You don't need to be polite. I know when I'm not welcome anymore," I say, slowly getting to my feet to ensure that I don't wreck the place anymore than I already have.
"What makes you say that?" Cody gets to his feet and follows me towards the door. "If I offended you, I'm sorry. But, c'mon, you don't have to leave."
"Yeah, I really do." My hand is on the door handle.
And then his hand is on top of mine. His fingers are entwining with mine as he pulls my hand away. I can feel him tugging at me, pulling me around to face him.
"Stay," he says again. I realise that his voice is low, almost a whisper. And that he is standing close to me. So very close. Inches away.
I shake my head. My voice is caught in the back of my throat. Not that I would know what to say. I can feel his breath on my neck. I can smell whiskey, cigarette smoke, ink, sweat and a hint of cologne.
So close.
And then I can taste all of those things. His mouth is warm, soft, wet. The right kind of right kind of everything in fact. His hand is still wrapped around mine, squeezing it tightly. I want him to move it. I want him to grab the back of my neck and pull me deeper into his embrace. I need him to want me even more. His tongue slips into my mouth and I can feel my knees starting to buckle. My head is spinning and I'm pretty sure the whiskey has nothing to do with it.
Tentatively, I raise a hand and slide it around the back of his neck, my fingers digging into the flesh, into his hair. I pull him closer, his body crashing against mine. His hand slips from mine and I can feel it curling around my hip. It tugs at my shirt, pulling it free from my pants. I hiss into his mouth as his fingers make contact with my bare flesh and I swear his lips twitch in a smile.
And then we're moving, stumbling frantically across the room. Cody is pushing me, guiding me until he falls backwards, taking me with him. His hands grip my hips, pulling me down on top of him. I can hear his heavy breathing, the sound of paper being crumpled and the sharp thud as his shoes hit the floor. Taking this as a hint, I desperately try to rid myself of my jacket. Cody's hands crash into mine as he tries to help me. I hook my fingers into the knot of my tie and tug it free. Cody's fingers dance over mine, sending shivers down my spine as they start to pluck at the top button of my shirt and then slip inside to caress my throat.
More buttons are undone. And his fingers slowly start to make their way across my chest. Fingers that twist around my shirt and pull me hard against him. Fingers that absent-mindedly flick across my nipples, causing me to swear into his mouth. Fingers that push the shirt from my shoulders and then roam down my back, lightly skimming the surface one second and then dig firmly into my flesh the next.
My mouth slides from his and I pull back for a second.
I jump. The rain has stopped, but now there's an ice cold breeze blowing through the window. I realise that I'm shivering. I reach forward and close the window, wondering how long I've been asleep for.
I close my eyes. Where was I? What was I dreaming...
The straining in my pants gives it away.
The image of Cody lying beneath me, gazing up at me through thick eyelashes, his skin flushed, his lips bruised and swollen, flashes through my mind. My hand drifts over my stomach and I fumble with my belt buckle.
He looked so coy. I can laugh now. He was never coy. Some people said that he was pure innocence. I know better. There was nothing innocent in the look that he gave me. I realised that later. A split second later in fact, when his lips flicked into a smirk and his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip. And when he stretched out beneath me and moaned wantonly as his constrained cock brushed against mine.
My hand wraps around my cock and I start to tug.
Cody's moans echo around me. He's staring straight at me as he ruts against me. But my eyes are roaming over his body. And then something catches my eye and I'm instantly hypnotised. Beneath his jacket and glaringly obvious against his white shirt are thick, red braces. I reach out and push his jacket open even further. My fingers must have grazed over his nipples as he squirms beneath me, his eyes suddenly closing as he exhales slowly.
"Sit up," I grunt, the first coherent words either of us said since the altercation at the door.
He struggles to do follow my command, but my arms encircle him and I soon feel his mouth on my neck. I push his jacket away and then beginning to run my fingers over the red material. I didn't think anyone wore them anymore. And little does he know that my first ever experience with a man involved me wearing braces. I remember the way he fingered them, hooking the tips of his fingers under them, toying with them as he kissed me. I can remember how he tugged on them and then let them snap back against my skin. I remember how it stung. But in a good way. And I'm all ready to do the same to Cody. My fingers are already hooked under them, running up and down, as Cody's mouth adorns my neck with licks and bites. I pluck at them playfully. He bites harder.
I snap them once more, feel Cody buck against me and relent. I slide the braces down his arms, one at a time. He shrugs them free and then pulls away to un-do his shirt. I slide my hand around the back of his neck and pull him against me as the final button is released. My mouth crashes against his as I feel his hands drop to my waist and feel my belt tighten and then loosen. His tongue probes my mouth as his fingers unfasten my pants and brush over my cock.
"Fuck," I mumble into his mouth.
And I swear he grins in response.
His fingers trail my entire length, starting from the base. They graze over my balls and then slowly travel over the thick vein on the underside, until finally, his thumb lazily rubs the tip. Instinctively, I bite down thinking I'll capture my own lip between my teeth, but it's his lip I capture and it's his moan that vibrates through me. And it's his hand that engulfs my cock and starts to stroke.
Within minutes, I'm a mess. I can feel a thin sheen of sweat forming over my body and my breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. Cody's mouth dances inches away from mine and every so often he leans into to capture my lips, before pulling away suddenly, leaving me begging for more. His hand grips me tightly and the speed gradually starts to increase. His thumb grazes the tip and I can feel pre-cum slide over the entire head. I lean forward and pull him against me. His mouth misses mine and his teeth sink into my earlobe.
"I want you," I hear myself gasp.
Cody giggles, his breath tickling my ear.
"Please."
I can feel his wrist jerking between us, feel that fiery sensation in my stomach. I'm so close.
Cody scrambles away from me.
"What the..." My cock is twitching, still believing that Cody's hand is wrapped around it.
His eyes are dancing as he almost tumbles off the bed. He stands unsteadily and then curls his finger, beckoning me towards him.
With a confuse look, I obey and as soon as I'm close enough, he pulls me to my feet. His mouth presses against my chest, his hands pushing my pants down until they fall of their own accord. His mouth sinks lower, his hands grasping my hips, as he reaches my stomach. His tongue dips into my belly button and I groan, my hands dropping to clasp the back of his head, as he moves down further, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the inside of my thigh.
His hand wraps around my length once again, long, slow strokes this time. I chance a look down and catch him staring up at me. His tongue wets his lips before he presses them against the tip of my cock. My head rolls back, as I feel his lips open wider as he slides his mouth over me. His hand grips the base, squeezing as his mouth pulls back. I hear his lips smack together and then they press against the head once again.
"Cody... Please..."
I can't take the teasing anymore. Even with the squeezing and the slow sucks, I'm on the edge, ready to shoot my load any minute. My fingers twist around his thick curls, as his mouth almost swallows me whole. He pulls back and then his lips are pressed against my pelvis and the tip of my cock is brushing against the back of his throat. He gags and I feel him splutter, but he doesn't pull back. His hands grip my thighs as he slowly starts to rock me back and forth.
I'm done for. I can feel my knees starting to buckle and both my hands grip Cody's head as my cock thrusts faster and harder into his mouth. He pulls back slightly and starts to run his tongue over me, lapping eagerly at the underside, teasing the vein, teasing the slit in the tip.
"I'm..." I gasp. His hands slide round to grip my ass, as his mouth hollows and I explode.
I fall backwards onto the bed, my spent cock slipping from his lips. His hands stay firmly on my thighs as he licks his lips. A white strand is stuck to his chin and I'm unsure whether it's from me or him. He hasn't noticed it and even as he rocks backwards and stands, it still clings there. I watch as he drops his pants, my gaze immediately turning to what hangs below his waist instead of his chin.
I move back as he approaches me, barely noticing how the paper strewn across the bed sticks to my back. Cody's hands rest on my ankles for a moment and then travel up my legs, moving them apart as he kneels on the bed. I can feel my eyes widen, as my mind starts to understand what's about to happen, or rather, what I think is about to happen. And he must've seen my face because his lips twitch and he giggles.
I stare at him, confused as his hands brush over my thighs and he leans forward. Instinctively, I reach up to grasp him, my initial thought being to pull him down, to claim his mouth once again. But his head slides to one side, his mouth capturing two of my fingers instead. His tongue swirls around them, coating their entire length with his spit. My cock is stirring and out of the corner of my eye I see him reach down and give his own a few sharp tugs.
"Go on," he whispers hoarsely, releasing my fingers. "Please."
He straddles me and I shiver as I feel the tip of my cock brush over his hole. I trail my hand down his back as he leans forward and presses his forehead against mine. One finger brushes over his entrance and I feel him tense against me. I push against it and feel the resistance.
"Do it."
I press harder and my finger slides into his body. He hisses, swears, grasps my shoulder, my hip tightly. I can smell my essence on his breath, almost taste it. I wiggle my finger and a guttural moan escapes his lips.
"Another," he urges.
I do as he says and am rewarded with him flattening himself against me, his mouth crashing against mine and his cock rubbing along my own. He clenches around me as I start to move my fingers in and out of him. I twist them slightly, trying desperately to go deeper, to find that one spot... But I can only tease at it. And I know that I'm teasing as whenever I even get close, he pulls away from my mouth, his eyes clenched shut, his entire body caught up in the sensation.
"Sit up."
My fingers slide out of him as he does and I grip his hips, shifting him back, lifting him up. He reaches beneath him, his hand sliding over mine as we both guide my cock into him.
I freeze when he cries out. His fingers dig into my wrists and it takes all my strength to keep him where he is. I can feel the tip is just breaching him and it's so fucking hard not to move and unintentionally sink into him.
"I'm okay," he gasps. "Keep... Keep going."
His knuckles are white as he maintains a tight grip on my wrists, as he lowers himself onto me. I'm just over halfway in when he starts to relax. His head rolls back and he exhales. His fingers loosen their grip and allow me to move one of my hands.
I reach up and cup his chin, forcing him to look at me. I stroke his cheek with his thumb as he takes me all in. His eyes are screwed shut, but his jaw is relaxed and a lazy smile is tugging at his lips.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to move. His hips move back and forth and I have to concentrate to keep my eyes open. I don't want to miss a second. If this is it, if this is all it will ever be, then I want to remember every second. I want to be able to play this over and over again in my mind, late at night, early in the morning, when I'm at my fucking desk. He looks...
Cody's eyes flicker open and I'm gone. I'm lost in them. I'm barely aware of him rolling his hips, squeezing my cock or murmuring my name. All I can do is stare into his eyes, into the unknown. His mouth captures my thumb that's still caressing his cheek and he sucks hard. The moan gets caught in the back of my throat – my mouth is so dry that nothing I want to say can be said.
"Randy..."
"Cody..."
He reaches for his cock that's bouncing off his abs and starts to jerk off. I tear my eyes away from his face and watch him smear pre-cum over the tip. With every rise, his cock shoots through his fist – his hand barely moves, but I can see his wrist flexing as he tightens his grip. He moans wantonly as I grab his hips and start thrusting with abandon.
The bedsprings are creaking, the metal frame is banging steadily against the wall, barely muffling the sounds coming from us – the slap of skin on skin, the ever-growing moans, the half-gasped, half-groaned names, curses, commands.
"Harder..."
The begging...
"Please... I'm... So..."
"Close..."
My hips buck violently as I pull Cody firmly down onto me. My eyes squeeze shut, my entire body tensed, preparing to shut down completely as I cum inside him. I hold him there, not wanting to move. I can still here his hand working his cock, feel him clenching around me as the first stream of stickiness hits my stomach.
I still call his name when I cum. I can't help it. A natural reflex. Old habits die hard.
Another reason why I can't move on. He is still there, ever present. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, I feel like if I look over my shoulder he'll be standing right there, that grin plastered all over his face. He'll stroll towards me, grasp my shoulder and whisper in my ear. He'll make me blush. He'll laugh and then pull me into the shadows.
But he's never there. And never will be.
We both made sure of that. But not out of choice.