10:
John and Randy parted ways once they were back in the arena. Randy would be on his own coming up with an explanation for Paul as to why he needed to be sidelined. John was nervous that Paul would catch on to the fact that something was up, but when it came time for Evolution to step out, Batista took over the match and Randy was at ringside.
Since he was still on punishment, John had to stay late and help the other departments get cleared out. He didn't finish until long after the other wrestlers had gone back to their respective hotels. What John would give for a cell phone just to text Randy and make sure he was okay.
As the early morning hours came through, John found the nearest hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before he needed to be back on the road. One of the lighting coordinators had told John that Randy was staying at the same hotel. John knew that Randy was an erratic sleeper. He tended to sleep heavily for an hour or two while being wide awake for another hour. Randy took naps whenever he could to make up for lost time.
John went to the front desk and found a young man with short dark hair standing there. He asked with a tired smile, "Single or double?"
"I was actually wondering if you could tell me which room Randy Orton is in?" John asked.
The clerk chuckled and replied assertively, "We don't give out that kind of information, Sir."
John showed the clerk an ID badge that wrestlers used to confirm their identity before entering autograph signings and other secure events. His size alone should've tipped the clerk off that he was a wrestler, but John knew that wannabe wrestlers often tried to pass off as roster members.
The clerk looked over the ID but didn't seem impressed. He frowned and asked, "Do you have some other kind of proof?"
This kid was good.
John had forgotten the days when he was basically a nobody and went so completely unnoticed. There were times in recent years that he would give anything to be lost once more.
"Could you give Randy a call and tell him John is here? I'm sure he's up."
"Sir, I don't want to disturb our guests-"
"Please," John said.
The clerk gave him another once-over. He finally reached for the corded phone and dialed Randy's room number. The clerk was careful to make sure John wasn't watching which numbers he pressed. John had to hand it to the kid, he was better at security than most. John heard Randy ask in a groggy voice from the other end of the line, "Yeah?"
His deep Southern drawl was more pronounced when he was tired. The clerk immediately apologized and added, "A man named John Cheetah is here. He says you know him."
Cheetah.
"What does he look like?" Randy asked.
Orton was obviously teasing him. John made a heavy sigh as the clerk looked him over again and said, "Uh...he's kind of tall but not really...and he has short hair that could almost pass for blonde but..."
The kid shrugged his shoulders. John rolled his eyes as the clerk continued, "He has a cleft in his chin and he's wearing jean shorts...he's built pretty well but he kind of looks like he's a bouncer rather than a wrestler..."
"Send him up," Randy replied.
"Sure thing," the clerk apologized once more even though Randy had already hung up and the dial tone was on.
"Room 224," the clerk told John.
"Thank you," John said as the clerk handed him a key card.
John went upstairs and down the hall. He tried to stay quiet in case other wrestlers were nearby. The last thing he needed was a run-in with an Evolution member wondering why he's going to Randy's room at 2AM.
He reached Randy's door and knocked quietly before using his key card to come in. Randy was under a single bed, his feet sticking out at the end almost to his knees. The blankets were partially covering his exposed chest and the top sheet was rolled up on the floor. Randy had a pillow behind his head and two others on a chair by the window. The shades were drawn and the room was fairly dark except for the light of the TV.
Randy had the TV on mute. It was playing a basketball game. John checked it out as he dropped his bag. He was used to all the technological advances of recent times that made the game far more interactive. It looked downright primitive without high definition and numerous replays and bars talking about fantasy plays and injury lists and scores for other games.
He suddenly realized how much information there was to process at any given time in his future. It was almost embarrassing how hard his brain had to work just to keep up with the simplicity of the time he was currently in. Being in the past where there was far less to absorb, he was becoming increasingly impatient with the lack of extra perks.
"Why'd you ask to see me?" Randy still sounded groggy as he rubbed his eyes.
"I thought you'd be awake," John replied.
"I am, now," Randy said with a twinge of agitation in his voice.
John checked Randy's shoulder. It was wrapped in an ice pack and duct tape. He asked somberly, "Is your shoulder doing better?
"It feels like somebody's yanking on it every five minutes," Randy answered.
"You want me to massage it or something?" John asked.
"I don't need your sausage fingers all over me," Randy teased him.
John chuckled and asked, "You mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Yeah, go ahead," Randy waved John away absently.
John picked up his bag and went into the bathroom. He closed the door and did what he could to get ready for bed. He had to skip some of his rituals to save time, which was difficult but a necessity. John needed a shower, so he undressed and worked quickly to get through it.
He thought he had made good progress, but nearly an hour had passed by the time he was done. His cursed himself for taking so long and John turned off the light before leaving the bathroom. He assumed Randy was asleep again and he didn't want to disturb him twice in one night.
"What took you so long?" Randy growled at him when John came out.
"I was hoping you'd be out cold so I could get the hell out of here," John joked dryly.
He put his bag down by the far wall. Randy had a couple of bags on the table next to the TV. John pointed at the rolled up top sheet on the floor and asked, "Was that really necessary?"
"I hate those fucking top sheets. My legs get stuck in 'em and I can't get out," Randy argued.
John chuckled at the image of Randy struggling to get out of a twisted up top sheet. Randy frowned at him and John asked, "You sure you don't want me to take a look at your shoulder?"
"It's fine, dipshit," Randy told him.
"You sound sad, my friend. What can I do to make you smile?" John teased him.
"Shut up!" Randy barked.
John laughed and went over to the other side of the bed. Since it was a single, there wasn't much space for both men to fit. John sat down on the other side and Randy told him, "You're sleeping on the floor."
"What?" John pretended to be hurt.
"I'm tired. I don't wanna play games. Get on the floor," Randy grumbled.
"So rude," John acted offended.
John got up and went to his bag by the wall. He pulled out some pain relieving cream and went back over to the other side of the bed. He reached for the duct tape on Randy's shoulder. Despite Orton's aggressiveness so far, he allowed John to take a look.
Randy's shoulder was red and swollen. John worked to take the duct tape off without causing too much pain. Randy grunted and groaned a few times. John took a pillow to elevate Randy's shoulder slightly, then he got to work with the pain relieving cream.
John was certified in Swedish massage, an achievement that he didn't exactly mention because most people he knew didn't care all that much. Randy seemed to notice something as he asked, "You're pretty good at this. Did somebody train you?"
"I watched a lot of YouTube videos," John answered.
"What?" Randy asked, confused.
John reminded himself that YouTube was not a big thing at this point in time. He shook his head and replied, "Sorry. I keep forgetting we're in the past."
"What do I look like? In the future," Randy asked.
His voice sounded sad, like he was certain any news of his future would be bleak. John took in a deep breath and replied, "Actually, you look better with age."
Randy shot him an incredulous look. John quickly added, "I'm serious! You've got this thick dark beard-"
"I can't grow a beard. It comes out too light. It looks stupid," Randy argued.
"They make a lot of strides with beard care in the future. You use a special dye in it that makes it dark. It makes you look more mature. I'd go so far as to say you look hot."
"Hmmm," Randy hummed as he jutted out his chin and pictured himself with a thick dark beard.
"You have a lot more tattoos. They work for you. Some guys, they get tattoos and it doesn't look quite right. Yours are perfect. I've never seen anyone with tattoos that blend together as well as yours."
Randy nodded as if pleased with this revelation.
"Am I happy?" Randy asked.
"What do you mean?" John asked.
"Being married. Am I happy with the wife and all that," Randy asked.
John decided not to tell Randy that he is more comfortable in his second marriage than his first. Instead, he replied with a nod, "Yeah, you're happy."
"I still can't figure out why I didn't tell you," Randy said.
John reached a sore spot on Randy's shoulder and he let out a low groan from the pain. John apologized quietly and worked the sore spot smooth. He glanced up at Randy, who was waiting for an answer.
"I don't know why you didn't tell me. All I know is that I had no idea how you really felt," John said.
John was trying to be honest, but Randy could not seem to come to terms with this answer.
"I knew you were suffering. All these years, I knew something was different about you. There were times where you would pull away from me and I thought you might disappear forever. We had periods of time where we fought a lot. There were a couple of times when I thought we weren't even friends, anymore. You have...you will have a history of overusing painkillers. You will become very reckless as you do better in the industry. It was like you didn't care what happened to you."
"That sounds more like me," Randy said.
John sighed and continued, "I didn't like seeing you that way. I didn't want you to implode like that. Nobody did. I thought you were a giant asshole who didn't care about anybody. Your wife was worried about you. Paul was worried about you. Vince was ready to fire you many times. Your legacy in the business was the main reason why you weren't cut-off."
"So, I should thank my dad for my success?" Randy sounded bitter.
"That's not what I mean. It was the main reason, but not the only reason. You're a natural at this, Randy. You seem like you were born to be a wrestler. Your moves, your finisher, your entire career...most of us would kill to have the skill that you do in the ring."
Randy didn't have a response to that, so John went on, "I'm serious. We have a lot of matches, together. I trust you. You gave my dad a concussion once by accident, but I still trust you."
"I what?!" Randy was wide-eyed.
"It's a move that went wrong during one of our rivalries. It's not important right now," John informed him.
"Well, be sure to tell me when it's coming up. I don't think the universe would be too unbalanced if I decided not to put your daddy in the hospital," Randy replied.
John chuckled and Randy asked, "What?"
"I like your voice. You say things like daddy instead of dad. That Missouri tone...it makes me smile," John answered.
"It's just my voice," Randy brushed off the compliment.
John finished massaging Randy's shoulder and asked, "Do you have another ice pack?"
"I put one out on top of the ice machine. It's just down the hall," Randy said.
John got up and left the room to get it. He came back with the pack and a bucket of ice so he could put the used pack on top of the ice to cool it down. John applied the cold ice pack and used less duct tape so Randy could get it off a little easier. Once he was finished, John laid down on his side next to Randy.
"Didn't I tell you to get on the floor?" Randy argued.
"I wanna ask you something," John said.
Randy blinked with surprise and asked, "Aren't you from the future? Don't you know so much more than me?"
"I know now that there's a lot I wasn't aware of," John answered.
Both men were quiet for a while, then Randy asked, "What do you wanna know?"
John sat up on his elbow to face Randy better as he asked, "If I kiss you right now, will you freak the fuck out?"
Randy tensed up, then he tried to regain his composure as he scoffed and replied, "No."
"Are you sure? I'm an amazing kisser. It might get you sprung," John teased him.
"Shut the fuck up," Randy rolled his eyes.
John scooted himself a little closer to Randy. Orton narrowed his eyes at him like he thought John was merely playing another prank on him. John rolled over so he was halfway on top of Randy without putting too much pressure on his injured shoulder. John leaned in a little, then a little more.
Randy watched him the whole time, his expression hard. He didn't want John to know how much he needed this. John was just an inch from Randy's lips when he mumbled, "You smell good."
"Probably not my breath," Randy grumbled back.
John didn't really notice. He pressed his lips against Randy's and measured the sensation. Orton's lips were soft, but kind of dry. John pulled away and took another breath before taking a deeper kiss.
Randy reached up with his good hand to curl it over John's face. Randy tried to lean over a bit to get closer to John, but his shoulder wouldn't let him. John responded to Randy's attempt by climbing on top of him so Randy didn't have to lean at all.
John could feel Randy getting hard under the covers. For John, it was still an exploration of sorts. His body was young and easily responsive to most forms of stimulation. He knew he could get hard and even climax. What John was more interested in was his connection to Randy. Did he want Orton to be touching him like this? Did he like it? Would he like it enough to want it, again?
The first surprise for John was how good of a kisser Randy was. John had been in his share of make-out sessions, but never with a man. Randy was his first and only test subject and he had proven to be fairly skilled at it.
Randy pulled away suddenly and let out a groan of pain. His erection was being smothered by blankets and Johns weight on top. John considered the consequences of easing Randy's pain. Freeing him would mean that Randy would want John to do something about it. John considered if he was ready to do that. He wasn't exactly repulsed by the idea. In fact, it fascinated him to be able to see how excited Randy was for him.
John sat forward so he could pull the blankets away. He found Randy to be completely naked underneath the covers, which saved him some time. John was still in boxers and a t-shirt, but as soon as he leaned forward, Randy was grabbing at his shirt with his good hand to try and take it off.
John helped Randy remove his shirt, but he wasn't ready to take off his boxers just yet. John reached for Randy's erection and enclosed it in his fist. He felt the head twitch in response. Randy moaned and his eyes rolled back into his head. He breathed out with a sense of vulnerability, "John."
Cena didn't have a source for lubrication, so he let go of Orton and spit into his hand before taking hold of Randy, again. Another long moan escaped the lips of the Southerner as John debated about what to do, next.
He had never given another man relief, before. He did to Randy what he did to himself and began stroking him. Randy responded gratefully, holding fast to John's hips while he writhed underneath him. John felt an odd sense of power over Orton that he couldn't quite explain. Randy was relying on John to keep going, to release him from his highly aroused state. Randy wanted John to be the one to do this for him. He was responding so strongly because it was John who was holding him.
Randy reached around with his good hand and gave John's backside a hard squeeze. It surprised John and he leaned forward, feeling his own groin interrupting his process. Randy looked at him and asked, "You okay?"
"Yeah," John tried to keep his bearings.
John began working harder on Randy to avoid his own building arousal. Randy responded with another squeeze of John's backside. John leaned forward enough that Randy could lean up and kiss him. John felt a sense of longing when Randy's lips pulled away from his.
Randy released into John's hand. What was left was sticky and warm. John didn't know what to do with it. He wanted to wash it off, but he couldn't move well because of his own arousal.
"You want to taste it?" Randy asked.
"I don't know," John's mind was more focused on his erection than his hand.
Randy looked down and asked thickly, "You want me to take you?"
"I don't know," John replied.
He rolled off of Randy and laid back against the bed. John held his hand up and inspected the remains of Randy's release. He was confused by his own thoughts. He was curious to know what it tasted like.
Randy had moved from his place on the bed. He was kneeling over John's middle. Randy tugged his boxers down with his good hand and came down to take John's erection inside his mouth.
John's eyes widened with a mix of pleasure and surprise. He was not aware that Randy was planning to do something like this. John closed his eyes and tried to focus. He didn't want to sound too eager, but he couldn't help the low moans that escaped from deep within him.
Randy was better at this than he was at kissing. John felt the wetness and the warmth surrounding his cock. He liked that Randy was rough but not overbearingly so. It felt like being inside of a woman, but there were things that Randy could do with his tongue which made it far more interesting. John's younger body climaxed before he really wanted to.
John watched as Randy sat up and drank down the remains of John's release. Randy closed his eyes and savored it like a fine wine.
Randy laid back down against the bed. John had to rest his head on Randy's chest because there wasn't enough room left on the bed. John put his arm around Randy's good shoulder as he heard Orton begin to snore quietly.
John closed his eyes and joined Randy in a state of deep and undisturbed slumber.