As his phone rang for the eighth time that morning, Randy rolled onto his back, letting out a frustrated, tired groan of annoyance. It was nearing noon, but he was still laying in bed, the white cottony sheets clinging to his body. He was wearing only a pair of navy blue sweatpants, and the sheets were sticking to his skin, wrapping all up around him, twisting around his limbs as he turned from side to side. No matter how high he turned up the air, it seemed the blankets always stuck to him, something he found very irritating and uncomfortable. Then again, all his lovers had told him he had hot skin…maybe that was why the fabric was holding on to him so desperately. Streams of light were seeping in from the blinds that covered the lone window in the hotel room; just enough brightness to cast thin shadows this way and that. Not enough to make him want to get out of bed, though.

The familiar bass introduction of Metallica's 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' was sounding out loudly from Randy's sleek, black cell phone—which was sitting on his the wooden nightstand next to his bed, the white light of the screen flashing angrily. Clenching his teeth, Randy rolled onto his side, facing away from the phone as he grabbed a fluffy pillow and buried his head underneath it. He'd heard that bass almost ten times in the past three hours…he was going to end up smashing his phone against the wall if it didn't stop. But he wasn't going to answer it…oh no, he definitely wasn't going to do that. He knew exactly who was calling.

After John had left, Randy had stumbled to his bed and somehow fallen asleep. All sorts of thoughts and questions had plagued his mind all night, causing him to toss and turn every hour. He certainly hadn't slept well; and he had god damn Cena to thank for it. What had been going through John's mind when he…when he kissed Randy? Did he plan it, or…did it just come out of nowhere? God, Randy was so tired of churning those questions in his mind. But the biggest question was the one that had bothered him the most: why did John leave after kissing him? Did he regret it? Or…or did he not like it? Those bad thoughts had been circulating in Randy's brain for hours now, and he was finding that with each passing minute he was growing angrier and angrier. Who the fuck did John think he was? Did he really fucking think it'd be ok to run off after something like that? Did he think he could string Randy Orton along? Well, Randy thought, breathing in the laundry-scented smell of his pillow, John had another thing coming if he thought Randy Orton was going to stand for that.

Then—just as quickly as it started—Randy's phone suddenly went dead silent. Another missed call. Part of Randy wanted so bad to pick up the phone and demand that John answer his questions, but another part of him—and he'd never admit it—was scared to hear the answers. Either way, Randy had decided after call number four that no answer was better than an answer he didn't want to hear. Or at least, that's what he thought…now he was beginning to think that if he heard Metallica one more time he'd probably jump out the hotel window just to escape from it.

Rolling back onto his back, Randy cast the pillow to the side, his pale eyes staring up at the ceiling. He had a throbbing headache, no doubt the consequence of have a few too many drinks. His side was sore, very tender to the touch, but to his surprise it didn't seem to hurt as much as he expected it to. It still stung when he inhaled deeply, but other then that he had found the pain to be pretty manageable. His eyes glaring up at a white ceiling, Randy couldn't help but wonder if John had only been paying him all this attention because Barrett had put him up to it. Technically Cena was a member of the Nexus…how did Randy know that the kiss—and everything else, actually—wasn't just some elaborate scheme to get Randy distracted at Bragging Rights? Well, it was working all right. Randy couldn't get his mind of John, couldn't seem to focus on anything else, and that really pissed him off. He had a championship match Sunday, he couldn't afford to be worried about some guy…even if that guy was John Cena. Sighing quietly, Randy closed his eyes. Shifting slightly, he could feel the soft caress of the sheets on his bare back, could feel the waistline of his pants dipping low, revealing the V cut in his hips. He was tired still, tired of every damn thing that seemed to be going wrong for him lately. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, some time where he could just lay still and not think so hard for once…

Three loud knocks rand out suddenly as someone banged on Randy's door, scaring the shit out of him and making him jump in place. Randy clenched his eyes shut and groaned loudly as the knocking persisted.

"Go away!" He yelled, sitting up and glaring at the door with animosity.

The knocks continued, causing the door to shake violently in its frame.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Randy swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, wincing as pain splintered through his ribcage. Taking careful, slow steps, he made his way to the door, feet shuffling silently against the carpet. He knew it was noon, but after all that had happened all he wanted to do was lay in bed and not think about anything. Finally stopping in front of the door, stopped for a moment, looking down and considering himself. After some consideration, he pulled his pants a little lower, making sure the indents at his hips were showing nicely. Reaching forward, he placed a hand on the door handle, pulling it open slowly.

John Cena stood before him, wearing a white shirt and some faded jeans. His blue eyes brightened as soon as he made eye contact with the Legend Killer.

Cena smiled finally, "Ran—"

Randy growled and made to slam the door in his face, but John caught it with his forearm, grunting with effort as Randy tried to shove the door shut.

"Wait! Please Randy!" John huffed, pushing against the door, his eyes wide and pleading, "Just let me talk to you! Come on, five minutes, that's all I'm asking!"

"Why the hell should I give you five minutes?" Randy hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glared at John, "Go away!"

"Just five minutes Randy, that's it, and if you still want me to, I'll leave you alone!" John continued, completely disregarding Orton's angry words.

Randy went still then, staring hard at Cena, his eyes flashing with suspicion. He had no real reason to trust John, but he also had no real reason not to either. Taking a deep breath, Randy took a small step back, the inked muscles flexing in his arm as he held open the door.

"You promise you'll leave if I want you to?" Randy asked quietly, still staring at John.

"Yes Randy." John held his hands up, palms out in a peaceful gesture, "When I'm done, if you still want me to, I'll leave, ok?"

"Fine." Randy scowled, taking another step backwards, "But you get five minutes and that's it."

He stood to the side, and John took this as an invitation to walk into the room. Cena walked right past Randy before turning around and folding his arms across his massive chest, a small, handsome frown crossing his face. Randy tilted his jaw up defiantly as he shut the door. After that he stepped away, glaring at John with hostility as he placed his hands on his hips, tight six-pack on full display.

John stared at him for a moment, his eyes a bit lower then they should've been.

"Well?" Randy snorted, "You going to say something?"

"I…uh, I'm sorry." John replied slowly, his eyes moving upwards to meet Randy's. And he actually sounded like he meant it…

"Sorry for what?" Orton growled, still scowling meanly as he held John's gaze.

"Sorry for yesterday." Cena continued quietly, unfolding his arms so that they were hanging at his side.

"If that's all you're here to tell me, then you can go ahead and get the hell out of here." Randy snarled, pointing a finger at John, "I've got a damn championship match this weekend, and I don't need anyone—especially you—trying to distract me from it."

"Look, I'm not trying to distract you or anything!" John said quickly, looking at Randy with desperate eyes, "I didn't mean to—look, I don't know what I was thinking, ok? I just…I guess I wasn't thinking."

"Save it, Cena." Randy muttered darkly, his scowl deepening even more, "I don't want to fucking hear it. Just get the hell out of here…go running back to Barrett for all I care."

"Randy, I just—" John began with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I said save it!" Orton spat, reaching up and jabbing a finger into John's chest, "You're the one who's been sucking Nexus dick lately! Do me a fucking favor and go back to doing that so you can leave me alone!"

"Don't poke me." John growled lowly, his own lips dipping into a threatening scowl.

"Are you supposed to scare me, Cena?" Randy smirked suddenly, his voice taking a taunting tone as he jabbed Cena again in the chest, "Sorry, Cena, but after watching you grovel to fucking Wade Barrett, you're just not that threatening anymore."

"I said don't poke me." John hissed, his hands clenching into fists as his eyes darkened considerably.

"What're you going to do, Cena?" Randy leaned in close to John as he laughed, a throaty, hollow sound devoid of any happiness, "You going to go fucking crying to Wade Barrett if I don't stop?"

This time when Randy raised his hand to jab John in the chest, it didn't go quite as planned.

John Cena didn't know why he was trying to apologize to Randy Orton, didn't know why he was wasting his time with someone who was so very good as pissing him off. All he knew was that with each poke in the chest, he could feel his rage and frustration building up inside his gut. And then finally…it boiled over. Letting out an animalistic growl, John reached out as Randy pulled his hand up to jab him in the chest. Before Randy could have time to react, Cena wrapped his hand around Randy's tattooed wrist and swung him around to the side. Because he was caught by surprise, Randy swung around rather easily, an infuriated, astounded look on his handsome face as John placed two hands on his bare chest, shoving him forward and against white drywall. Randy let out a cry of pain as his back connected with the wall, and it was then that John reached up, his hands pressing on Orton's shoulders. Holding the younger man still, John leaned forward and shoved his mouth against Randy's, his lips practically crushing against Randy's mouth.

The younger man squirmed under his hold, but he parted his lips, allowing John to thrust his tongue forward. Cena didn't know what had come over him, all he knew was that he could feel Randy's tight body straining against him, his hot mouth pressing against John's with more intensity then Cena thought could ever be held in something as innocent as a kiss. Dropping his hands from Randy's shoulders, he gripped him by the hips, fingernails digging into the bare skin, loving the feel of Orton's warmth on his fingertips. Randy let out a soft moan as he felt John's hands grabbing him so tightly, and it was then that John deepened the kiss, biting gently on Randy's bottom lip, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Randy reached down then, placing his own hands on John's hips, and he pulled the older man against him, pressing their hips together ferociously. Cena had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning as he felt Randy's groin rubbing up against him; his jeans had grown tight on him over the past few minutes, and it got even worse as Randy rubbed on him sultrily. .

And then Randy suddenly pulled his hands up, shoving John hard in the chest. Cena stumbled backwards a few steps, looking both surprised and confused at Randy's sudden aggression. He didn't stop there, though. Randy walked forward and reached up, gripping a fistful of John's white tee and yanking him forward. Cena couldn't help but smile as Randy crushed his lips against John's mouth, his teeth working at his lips, pulling and biting where he could. Well, John thought with a smirk, placing his hands on Randy's waist and yanking him closer, it seemed Orton liked to play rough. John could certainly give him what he wanted…

John tightened his hold on Randy's hips, gripping him so hard that Randy actually gasped in pain, pulling out of the kiss and looking at John with a mixture of lust and suspicion clouding his pale eyes. John smirked arrogantly before spinning Randy around, the bulging muscles in his arms flexing as he threw Randy onto the bed. The Viper landed on his back, a snarl escaping his lips as he tried to sit up. Cena was on him before he had a chance, though, climbing onto the bed on all fours, his muscular body quickly making his way on top of Randy. Orton struggled beneath him, his tan body writhing sexily on the bed sheets. It didn't make a difference though as John grabbed him by both wrists, pinning Randy's arms above his head. The Legend Killer didn't like being dominated so easily; he let out a growl of displeasure, fighting against John, but Cena's hold was too strong. Randy eventually stopped struggling, choosing instead to glare up at Cena, his frosty eyes full of defiance.

"Why does everything with you have to be so…violent?" John asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at the half naked man beneath him.

"You like it." Randy replied arrogantly, looking up at John as his lips twisted into a seductive smirk.

"Yeah," John conceded with a small nod, "I think I do."

He leaned forward then, once again pressing his lips against Randy's. Orton responded to the kiss immediately, pushing his tongue forward to explore John's mouth, practically purring with pleasure as Cena move his lips against his own mouth. The sound of Randy almost whimpering as they made out was making the heat rush between John's legs. With each passing second he spent sucking on Randy's lips he could feel his own cock growing harder and harder, desperate for some attention from the gorgeous Viper. He hesitated though, hovering above Randy, not wanting to lower himself for fear that he would be pushing the younger man farther then he wanted to go. Those fears were quickly repelled though when Randy moaned into the kiss and bucked his hips upward, his groin just barely grazing the jean fabric between John's legs. That was enough of an invitation for Cena. He lowered his body down, his bulky frame practically smothering Randy's own leaner body. Orton let out an involuntary gasp as John pushed his hips forward, the hardness in his jeans pressing between Randy's legs. Orton bucked his hips up in response, pushing his groin against John's hard on, his bare abdomen rubbing up against John's white t-shirt. Cena groaned at that, shoving his hips forward so that his hard dick was stabbing against Randy's inner thigh. And then John pushed forward more, and Randy whined slightly as John's cock brushed up against his own, sending waves of pleasure through both of them.

John's lips slowly moved away from Randy's mouth, kissing him along the jaw, and then down his neck. Suddenly he bit down roughly, his teeth scraping at the warm flesh between Randy's collar bone and his neck. Orton moaned loudly at that, tilting his head backward and closing his eyes in ecstasy as John began sucking on his neck, his tongue at work on Randy's sensitive skin. John thrust against him again as he sucked, his painfully hard cock straining against his jeans as he rubbed his groin between Randy's legs.

"W-why are you doing this?" Randy hissed, raising his hips to meet another one of John's thrusts, ending his question with a low whine as his own cock slid against John's hard on.

"Can't help it." John said quietly, his lips moving across Randy's throat, "Just something about you…can't keep my hands off."

It was then that Randy suddenly felt a vibration radiating from John's pants pocket. Cena pulled away from Randy slowly, his lips pursed in a confused frown. Sitting up slightly, he reached into his pocket to pull out a silvery phone. He didn't look at it though, instead choosing to stare at Randy with his piercing blue eyes, the phone vibrating loudly in his hand.

"I could let it go to voicemail…" John said slowly, his free hand resting on Randy's hip bone.

"You should answer it." Orton shrugged, frowning nonetheless.

What John really wanted to do was throw the phone out the window and go back to sexually assaulting Randy…but he decided against it. He had all damn day to play with Randy, and the person calling might be important. Pressing the green call button, he raised his phone up to his ear, eyebrows knotted in concentration.

"Yeah?" Cena answered slowly, and then his eyes widened, "Barrett? What is it? What do you need?"

Randy scowled angrily, hatred filling his cerulean eyes.

"Where am I? Well…uh…" John's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to come up with a believable answer, "I'm just relaxing in my room. Not really doing much. You…you want to see me? Well…uh, I…yeah, I guess I could meet you in the hotel lobby. Sure, whatever. Fine."

He hung up the phone, lowering his hand down to his side, looking down at Randy with a mixture of longing and apology.

"Guess you should get going." Randy muttered, looking up at Cena with irritation.

"When can I see you again?" John asked quietly.

"I think we should wait until after Bragging Rights." Randy grumbled, dropping his eyes from John's gaze.

"Why?" There was a mixture of suspicion and unhappiness in John's question. His hand was still on Randy's hip, fingers rubbing against the warm skin.

"Barrett might get suspicious…and like I said, I don't need any distractions." Orton said as he shrugged, still avoiding John's eyes.

"Ok." John answered slowly, sitting up, "That's understandable. But after Bragging Rights I want to see you again."

"Yeah…ok." Randy nodded, looking up finally to meet John's stare.

"I'll see you Sunday." John said sadly as he stood up and off the bed, smoothing out his jeans.

"Sunday." Randy replied quietly, his eyes boring into John's back as he watched Cena walk out the door.

Wade Barrett was standing in front of room 213…John Cena's room. The room he had told Barrett that he was currently in…which he most certainly was not. Barrett had banged on the door for a solid ten minutes before finally deciding to call his involuntary teammate. And John had lied to him, telling him he was in his room when Wade was completely confident he was not. So why had John lied to him? Barrett had stood in front of John's door for the past two or three minutes, pondering this question. Eventually he came to the conclusion that the only reason John would lie to him was because he was somewhere he knew Barrett wouldn't want him to be… And where could that be? Considering what he had seen Monday night, considering John's request about the championship match this Sunday…Wade had a pretty good idea where John Cena was, and what he was doing. Or rather, who he was doing.

Lips curling into a dark grin, Wade finally turned and strode away from John's door.

He had originally thought the key to breaking John Cena was to destroy his career, but now…

Now he was certain the key to destroying Cena lay in Randy Orton.