A SONG YOU MUST CHECK OUT BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY, (PLEASE) is "One Step Closer" by Shane Harper. Everytime I hear it... I Melt For CENTON...
I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE my Inspiration: FansOfCenaton! :D Ok, here's Chapter Tres!
*Thanks for your wonderful reviews :)
Chapter 3: An Interesting Confrontation
Randy held the steering wheel tightly as he drove away from the arena with a stern expression on his face…
His back still hurt like crazy and he couldn't get what happened tonight out of his head…
The fans always said that if Randy Orton and John Cena tag-teamed, they would never ever lose…
...How ironic then.
Randy switched on the Alternative Rock radio station and turned up the volume…
He didn't hear his phone ding a few minutes later, signaling that someone had texted him…
Three Days Grace, Skillet and Metallica blasted through the stereo as he lost himself in the songs…
It wasn't until Randy got to his hotel room and set his iPhone down on the bed, that he saw he had gotten a text…
…from John.
Part of him wanted to ignore it, but another part wanted to see what the bastard had to say for himself…
Orton read the short message:
Doesn't feel too good, does it?
Randy frowned…
"Fuck you John," he said before deleting the text.
While sitting on the sofa, Randy tapped his foot repeatedly as he kept replaying what happened on RAW in his head...
That smug, careless look John had on his face as he walked away...
Never before has he seen John with that type of expression...
It was unexpected... unnatural... and it drove Orton insane.
If anyone was ever supposed to look smug and have a cocky attitude, it was HIM...
And the nerve of John to text him, "Doesn't feel too good, does it?"
He could almost hear (if possible) the smugness in Cena's voice...
LIKE HE WAS MOCKING HIM.
I'd like to see how you'd feel if I squeezed your fucking throat, Randy thought angrily.
John Cena smiled at himself in the mirror of his Chevy Camaro...
Man, who knew pissing Randy off would feel so good, he thought to himself...
Maybe he should do this more often...
Randy fell asleep on the couch while watching some dumbass comedy show on another crazy foreign channel (he was distracted, of course.)
The dream he had was... interesting.
He found John standing outside of this bar, smoking a cigarette with a bunch of women around him and a smirk on his face...
"JOHN," Randy boomed from behind him.
John turned around...
"Well well well... Randy... I see you came to congratulate me for helping you win tonight. Oh wait. I didn't help you. And you didn't win." Then he laughed a loud, annoying kind of laugh and took a swig of his cigarette.
The vein in Randy's temple was pulsating in anger...
"Aw, what's wrong Viper? Lemme guess... Does your back hurt? Funny... I think Samantha was complaining how her pussy hurt too after I fucked her..."
...THE HELL?
Randy didn't even bother to ask where that came from because he had already lunged forward, pushing Cena to a nearby wall, and wrapped his hands around his neck.
He squeezed semi-hard, choking John even as The Champ kept that stupid smirk on his face...
"You think this is funny?" Randy seethed through clenched teeth...
"The...look... on your face... when i left you... was funny... as hell," John struggled to respond...
Randy continued to squeeze his throat...
...but the part that sent him over the edge was that... that fucking smirk... That refused to get the hell off Cena's face, despite the fact that Randy was basically cutting off his air supply...
"Sammy said …..she loved ….my cock ….by the way," John had the nerve of adding. "She said ….compared to ….yours, mine ….is a giant …bulldozer..."
That's when Randy's anger got the best of him and he squeezed his former best friend's throat a little too hard...
John's eyes widened as he choked and slowly slid to the ground...
Randy stared at him in disbelief...
He felt the side of John's neck with two fingers and felt no pulse...
Randy's heart raced.
"John... John," he called.
But there was no response.
"John... John! Get the fuck up! John!"
That's when Randy shot up from the couch in a shriek.
For the second night in a row, he woke up in the middle of the night panting... and sweating...
His POV
I massaged my forehead and stood up shakily on my feet...
What the fuck was that shit?
...I killed John?
...I choked him to death?
Just because I was mad that he left me hangin'...
Wow.
These dreams I keep getting of him are fucking stupid.
But still...
...killing John cause embarrassed me doesn't seem very ethical... at all.
I sighed as I got back into my own bed...
Guess this means I should forget about this whole situation and... just... let it slide.
Let it Slide.
John's POV
The next morning, I woke up feeling the same as I did last night: Great.
Vince gave all of us four days off until Sunday, when we had a live show and had to fly to the next city the same night for RAW.
I brushed my teeth, took a hot, steamy shower and walked out with the towel wrapped around my waist...
That's when I heard a knock at my door.
Well, how convenient, I thought sarcastically as I walked to the front door...
I opened it and saw Randy standing there in a collar shirt and jeans...
When he looked down and saw that I was just in a towel, he frowned and looked away. "Whoa, sorry dude, I didn't know you were—"
"No... no, it's cool," John said slowly. He was surprised to see him. "What... do you want?"
Randy looked at John's face. "Just wanted to, uh.. talk about.. what happened on Smackdown yesterday."
"What's there to talk about?"
"Well, considering you walked away from the match, and me, I'd say there's something to be said."
"You didn't get my text? I thought that would explain everything."
"Yes I did get it but I don't think that's enough."
"Fine, then." John moved out of the way, and Randy walked in.
After John shut the door behind him, he said, "Well... I guess I should go first."
Randy sat on the arm of the couch and crossed his arms... "Go ahead."
"Alright... well... we all know what happened two nights ago. After that ...weird... moment, and after I left, you acted as if it didn't really matter; even though you told me not to do it again. I understood of course. I mean, I was... just caught up in everything that was going on... so... Anyway, the next morning, you declined my breakfast invitation, without letting me finish even, you then proceeded to go to a completely different diner when you knew the one I'd be at, and then you ignored my call. So... basically, you were avoiding me because of what happened back in your hotel room. After smiling at me, and pretending that the situation wasn't that big of a deal... You lied basically and so you weren't honest with me, and so I was pissed, and so I decided to give you a taste of your own medicine, and so I didn't let you tag me in on RAW, I left and so you lost the match."
...Randy watched him with a narrow gaze...
"Your turn," Cena said. "Tell me why you lied to me. And tell me what you wanted to tell me back at the gym, but I wouldn't listen."
Randy tightened his jaw...
...but took a deep breath...
His POV
I can't tell John about the dream...
It'll fuck things up, big time.
Then again...
...I've already fucked things up anyway.
So...
...here goes...
"John... the truth is... I wasn't avoiding you because of what you did in my hotel room."
Cena raised his eyebrows.
"I avoided you... because of this dream I had." Randy swallowed hard...
"What dream?"
The way he asked, sounded like "Wet dream?" making Randy even more nervous...
"It was... it was pretty stupid... really... It doesn't even mat—"
"Tell me," John demanded.
"John—"
"We're being honest and open with each other here, Randy. And this sorta came about because you lied to me before. You might as well speak the truth now."
Randy shook his head and scratched his forehead slowly...
... then he just stopped and stood up.
John watched as he put his hands on his hips and paced around.
"Okay. Okay... fine. Here it is: I dreamt that you tried to have sex with me in the locker room, okay?"
... John looked surprised.
"That's why I tried avoiding you for a while... I would feel too fucking weird around you. There. I said it. I told the fucking truth. Are you fucking happy now?"
...
...
...
John was speechless...
His POV
I couldn't believe my ears...
Randy Orton had a sex dream... about me...
Wow...
That was some fucking interesting shit right there...
But...
Randy's POV
"I'm NOT fucking gay if that's what you're thinking," I told him. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. Now you think I am. Fuck the World..." I turned my back to Cena and held my head low...
"... No."
"No what?" I asked without turning around.
"No, I don't think you're gay. And neither am I. It was just a dream. You can't control your dreams. They just happen. So, I understand why you'd feel the way you do. I understand why you'd want to avoid me. I understand completely."
I turned to face him. "...Really?"
"Yeah... and it's actually my fault."
"What?"
John scratched the back of his head. "I shouldn't have, um... did that stuff right next to you. It was stupid... If I hadn't done that you probably wouldn't have had that dream and... none of this would have happened."
"No, no... It's cool, John," I told him. "Let's just forget this ever happened, alright?"
"Alright..."
(Third-Person POV)
They looked at each other for a moment...
..Just...
...looked...
Randy's eyes drifted to John's covered lower body...
Flashbacks of what things looked like under there flooded his mind...
But he quickly snapped out of it.
"Well, glad things are settled between us," Randy said, heading to the door. "Guess I should be—"
"Randy—"John held his arm.
When he turned around, their faces were dangerously close...
Orton could feel his heart pounding for some reason...
... He just noticed the tiny water droplets sliding down John's chest...
"Um... just out of curiosity... what exactly happened in your dream? Like... what did I say to you?"
Randy smiled and shook his head... "You don't wanna know, John..."
"Actually I do... c'mon tell me."
"...You were... you said you wouldn't tell... anyone... if..." he trailed off, nervously.
John laughed. "What else...?"
"You told me... to admit that you... that you turn me on..."
John patted his crew cut, still smiling... "Okay... wow. Is that all?"
"And... um..." Randy was skeptical about telling him the last part...
"C'mon tell me Randy. It's okay, I just wanna know."
"You really don't, John..."
"Yes I do. Now tell me."
Randy sighed heavily... There was really no getting around this. And John could probably tell if he was lying.
"Then you touched me," he blurted quickly.
"Yeah, I knew that was probably coming." John backed up and laughed some more.
"What's so funny?" Randy asked him, with a slight, noticeable smile on his face...
"Just the thought of me being so aggressive for a change and you being... recessive... It's like a complete opposite world." John laughed for the millionth time...
"So what did it feel like?" he asked Randy.
"What did what feel like?"
"...When I touched you. Were you like, 'what the fuck, get away from me' or did you just melt into my arms?" John asked with a smile.
"Yeah, right, the first one."
"I thought so... haha. So why didn't you push me away?"
"Oh believe me John, I tried. But your giant body wouldn't budge."
"So now I'm a giant?"
"No, but you're body's huge."
"So I'm fat?"
"You know I didn't mean that."
"What'd you mean then?"
"Your muscles... your abs... your shoulders... you're a big guy. Not like Mark Henry or Big Show, but... yeah your pretty big."
Cena raised an eyebrow. "We still talkin' about my muscles here or...?"
Randy felt his cheeks get warm...
"Uh... no... I didn't mean—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just toying around with you, Randy," John said, smiling.
"Right..."
John stepped closer to Randy...
... and crossed his arms.
"Let me ask you something... you ever... thought about me? Like... in a sexual way?"
(Randy's POV)
OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH FUCK OH FUCK, GOD PLEASE HELP ME OR KILL ME NOW.
I tried to look calm with an (understandable) nervous smirk...
I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."
"Which is it?"
"... I don't know. Maybe. But, it's not... a constant thing. Let's face it John, we're wrestling each other all the time, around each other almost all the time, and you're the last person I see before going to bed most of the time... You're practically thrown in my face so to speak," I laughed. "So if I said I never once thought about you... in that way... I don't know... I guess I'd be lying. But I'm still not gay."
John nodded. "Alright, then. Fair enough."
"And you?"
"And me what?"
"You've never thought about me before...in that way?"
"Oh, yeah; sometimes, I guess. It's not too serious though. I mean, you're a good-lookin guy. We work together a lot and you're my best friend. It's normal for me to think of you non-professionally from time-to-time... right?"
"I guess..."
"You thinkin' about me right now?"
"What? No... I mean, yes, but... we're in the middle of a conversation. If I wasn't thinking about you, I probably wouldn't be talking to you... Quit bein' stupid."
"So, out of curiosity... again... and because I just love toying with you," Cena said with a smile. "What would you do right now if I dropped my towel?"
My heart leaped out of my chest... and into my throat...
"What?"
"Pretty sure you heard me, Randy."
At first I was a little nervous, then I smiled.
This is John Cena...
...my best friend...
...the guy who just loves to mess around with people.
Well two can play at this game, Cena...
"What would you want me to do?" I replied.
"You can't reply to a question with a question."
"And you can't tell me what to do."
"Fine... you win. If I'd drop my towel, I'd want you... to tell me what you'd do."
Randy shook his head. John had turned the question back on him again...
Bitch...
"Okay fine. If you dropped your towel right now... I'd leave."
John cocked his heads to one side. "I don't believe you."
"That's just too damn bad then."
"Tell me the truth," Cena said, walking up to me.
"That is the truth."
"No it's not."
"And how would you know?"
"Because I know you."
"So?"
"So, I know when you're lying."
John grabbed the side of his towel, causing me to gulp...
"I'm serious. What would you do if I dropped my towel... right here...right now...right in front of you...? Be honest..."
"Fine... I'd... probably... look."
"Look at what?" John smirked.
"At you..."
"At what part of me specifically?"
"You know what I'm talkin about."
"No I don't... tell me."
"Your cock," I told him.
Silence filled the small space of air between us...
...
...
John looked at me and I looked at him...
Suddenly, everything around me faded and got blurry and the only thing I saw was John in front of me...
What the hell was this...? I wondered.
"And if I asked you to touch it?"
"What?"
"If I asked you to touch it... would you?"
"If you really wanted me too... probably."
"You wouldn't tell anybody?"
"Why would I?"
"What if I wanted to touch you? Would you let me?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how I was feeling."
"Are you still sexually frustrated... or have you gotten... what you needed already?"
"I haven't gotten it yet..."
"Gotten what?"
"... What I needed."
"What is it you need?"
"To feel good..."
"Is there anything I can do to help... as a friend?"
"N-no..."
Yes, my inner voices said. You can suck my cock.
I felt myself growing hard in my jeans...
Oh God no...
Shut the fuck up, I told the mythical, metamorphic voices in my head.
Just shut the fuck up.
That's when John looked down and noticed it...
My heart raced.
"Randy," he said.
"W-what?"
"You need help."
"I know you fucking idiot, but Samantha's not—"
"I am."
He was about to touch me when I jumped back.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I told him. "I can't."
John shrugged. "Okay. Whatever you say. I was just trying to help you out, Randy. I'm not dying to do it."
He was heading back to his bedroom.
My cock strained against my jeans until I couldn't take it anymore...
"John," I called to him.
He stopped.
"Come here... please."
...I wonder what Randy wants... what do you think?
XD
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