TITLE: When You Smile
CHARACTERS: Evolution
SUMMARY: Dave Batista's unrequited love for Randy Orton. *SLASH*
RATING: R, I guess.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone. Vince does, the bastard.
Sometimes when I watch you sleep I feel as though I am the most content man on Earth and that nothing could ever destroy the little world I have constructed inside of my head. Because here, in the quiet of this hotel room, when we are lying together in bed, I, propped up on my elbows, staring at your infinite beauty, the world can be perfect, if only for a few moments in the dark, your beauty bathed in moonlight.
In these moments of perfect silence, I can finally find peace. As fantastic and earth shattering as it is to possess your body as we make love every single night, I love this more. Because it is this time that I can be completely sated and that I don't have to think, think about anything of the past, or about you and him.
You and him.
You and *him*.
*You* and him.
You. And. Him.
NO!
Just no! I'm NOT going to think about you and him! I just won't. This is my time of peace, my world, my everything, your perfection, our perfection and nothing more. It has nothing to do fuck all with him.
With him..
Him.
I guess it's just useless lying to myself anymore.
Even in these very moments, he pervades my mind.
He is everywhere, even as I hold you, tight as I can within my arms. He is still here. Between us.
I look at you, I watch as you smile in your sleep. It's a goofy, awkward smile, almost a half smirk. It's a look on you that is so incredible. Incredible in it's genuine nature, incredible in the way it stirs my desire and incredible in the way it makes me want to take your life.
That's right, sometimes when I look at you, I want to kill you.
What puts that smile on your face, Randy Orton?
Why do I ask this question?
I suppose it's because I like to torture myself.
In all the time that we have been together, I have never seen it on your face while you have been awake.
I know why you smile. I know who you smile for.
You smile for him.
That smile is reserved for him, him and no on else.
Your lips curl breathtakingly and a slight blush colors your cheeks as if you've got some grand secret that you don't want to let anyone in on. But I know the secret. God, do I know the secret.
Is it too much to ask that the man I love return that same love?
Of course it's too much.
I know love, because I love you and it's all consuming. I see love, because it's in you--for him.
Why though? Why do you have to love a man whose ruined more lives, destroyed more careers, fucked more people over, both figuratively and literally, than the devil himself. I think I figured it out long before.
Because he *is* the devil.
It can only be the devil's work that I should love you this much and not have you return a single ounce of it.
And as shameful as it is to admit, even I can not deny his appeal.
He is sunlight, intelligence, determination, wit, beauty, angel-- perfection.
He is darkness, scheming, manipulation, lust, evil, hatred, devil-- perfection.
You see, either way, even I can not deny it. He is perfection.
But it is not perfection that I seek. I seek you.
I see it in you. Your innocence. You are not yet corrupted by his darkness as I once was. Yes, I was lured into his trap, by those smoldering hazel eyes that would bring any man, including myself, to his knees at a simple heated stare.
I know his ways, I know the magnificence of his body. How he would look at you from behind those gold tipped lashes and then proceeded to worship your body, melt your very being into a big pile of bonelessness.
And I also knew of his control.
I feel my body stiffen at the very thought of how he had controlled me, of how he had manipulated me, and a part of me stiffens at the desire I still have for him and I am disgusted with myself.
And so I tremble, but what makes me tremble even more is what slips from your lips as you smile still, still dreaming your wonderful dreams of him.
"Hunter."
CHARACTERS: Evolution
SUMMARY: Dave Batista's unrequited love for Randy Orton. *SLASH*
RATING: R, I guess.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone. Vince does, the bastard.
Sometimes when I watch you sleep I feel as though I am the most content man on Earth and that nothing could ever destroy the little world I have constructed inside of my head. Because here, in the quiet of this hotel room, when we are lying together in bed, I, propped up on my elbows, staring at your infinite beauty, the world can be perfect, if only for a few moments in the dark, your beauty bathed in moonlight.
In these moments of perfect silence, I can finally find peace. As fantastic and earth shattering as it is to possess your body as we make love every single night, I love this more. Because it is this time that I can be completely sated and that I don't have to think, think about anything of the past, or about you and him.
You and him.
You and *him*.
*You* and him.
You. And. Him.
NO!
Just no! I'm NOT going to think about you and him! I just won't. This is my time of peace, my world, my everything, your perfection, our perfection and nothing more. It has nothing to do fuck all with him.
With him..
Him.
I guess it's just useless lying to myself anymore.
Even in these very moments, he pervades my mind.
He is everywhere, even as I hold you, tight as I can within my arms. He is still here. Between us.
I look at you, I watch as you smile in your sleep. It's a goofy, awkward smile, almost a half smirk. It's a look on you that is so incredible. Incredible in it's genuine nature, incredible in the way it stirs my desire and incredible in the way it makes me want to take your life.
That's right, sometimes when I look at you, I want to kill you.
What puts that smile on your face, Randy Orton?
Why do I ask this question?
I suppose it's because I like to torture myself.
In all the time that we have been together, I have never seen it on your face while you have been awake.
I know why you smile. I know who you smile for.
You smile for him.
That smile is reserved for him, him and no on else.
Your lips curl breathtakingly and a slight blush colors your cheeks as if you've got some grand secret that you don't want to let anyone in on. But I know the secret. God, do I know the secret.
Is it too much to ask that the man I love return that same love?
Of course it's too much.
I know love, because I love you and it's all consuming. I see love, because it's in you--for him.
Why though? Why do you have to love a man whose ruined more lives, destroyed more careers, fucked more people over, both figuratively and literally, than the devil himself. I think I figured it out long before.
Because he *is* the devil.
It can only be the devil's work that I should love you this much and not have you return a single ounce of it.
And as shameful as it is to admit, even I can not deny his appeal.
He is sunlight, intelligence, determination, wit, beauty, angel-- perfection.
He is darkness, scheming, manipulation, lust, evil, hatred, devil-- perfection.
You see, either way, even I can not deny it. He is perfection.
But it is not perfection that I seek. I seek you.
I see it in you. Your innocence. You are not yet corrupted by his darkness as I once was. Yes, I was lured into his trap, by those smoldering hazel eyes that would bring any man, including myself, to his knees at a simple heated stare.
I know his ways, I know the magnificence of his body. How he would look at you from behind those gold tipped lashes and then proceeded to worship your body, melt your very being into a big pile of bonelessness.
And I also knew of his control.
I feel my body stiffen at the very thought of how he had controlled me, of how he had manipulated me, and a part of me stiffens at the desire I still have for him and I am disgusted with myself.
And so I tremble, but what makes me tremble even more is what slips from your lips as you smile still, still dreaming your wonderful dreams of him.
"Hunter."