Wade Barrett was furious. Absolutely fucking furious.

He was in the locker room sitting on a wooden bench, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on one of his fists. The rest of the room was empty; after the match Wade had ordered his boys to grab their stuff and bail. They'd jumped at his requests. All of them were pretty beat up, and all of them were all too happy to get out of there—except maybe Gabriel. That little fuck had lingered, whining to Wade about one thing after another. Finally Barrett had snapped at him, screaming at him to get his head out of his arse and beat it. Justin had gotten all pouty at that, but he'd left nonetheless. Thank god. Barrett was in no mood to be dealing with any of his teammates at the moment. He was so god damn pissed he could barely function, let alone keep an eye on his ragtag group of idiots. They must've sensed it, for—with the exception of Gabriel—they'd all avoided him, hurrying to obey him and then getting the fuck out of his way. He'd punched a wall and a locker after the match, and now the knuckles on his left hand were swollen and purple. It didn't feel like he broke anything, but it still hurt quite a bit. The pain didn't matter though; with all the rage flowing through Wade's body, he could've punched a hundred more walls. He could've broken his hand to pieces and he wouldn't have cared, he was so fucking angry.

John Cena was a treacherous bastard. Not only had he stopped Barrett from finishing off Orton, but he'd even attacked the rest of his group! His own teammates! He chose Orton over them! Wade had gone mad trying to think of why John would do that—other then the fact that Cena was such a goody goody that he couldn't stand to see an 'innocent' man get hurt. No, that couldn't be the only reason…sure, John wad sickeningly honorable sometimes, but he and Randy had a history. There was no way he'd drop everything and sacrifice his career for someone like Randy Orton unless there was something else going on. Well, Barrett thought with a sneer, staring down at the tile floor beneath his feet, he was almost certain that something was going on. In other words, Cena and Orton must be fucking. There was no other explanation; John's sudden concern for Randy's well being, him helping Randy up the ramp, Cena still apparently with Randy… After some thinking and fuming, Wade came to the conclusion that John Cena had to be sticking it to Randy Orton.

Not that he blamed him.

Orton was incredibly good looking; if Barrett was in Cena's place, he wouldn't think twice about fucking Randy into oblivion. In fact, nobody would, really. Backstage, almost everyone agreed that Randy Orton was probably the best looking guy around. And, not only was he attractive, but Randy just seemed to exude sexuality. A lot of the superstars would agree that it was rather difficult not to think dirty thoughts when Randy was around, and Barrett was no exception. He was of course drawn to Orton because he currently had what Barrett wanted—the WWE Championship. But there was more to it than that…Randy had this confidence, this defiance that Wade thought would be absolutely delicious to crush. He'd thought about Randy underneath him, completely at his mercy...he thought about making the so-called apex predator bow before him…the idea of seeing Randy bend to his will was intoxicating to Wade. He enjoyed watching John Cena obey his orders, enjoyed destroying the man. If he could destroy him even further by crushing Randy Orton…well, that was just icing on the cake. Barrett couldn't help but smirk as he thought about how much it would anger John if he put his hands on Randy…

It probably wouldn't be all that hard to seduce Orton, Wade thought suddenly. And that would be a fantastic way to hurt Cena… Randy was a well known slut. Everyone knew he was fucking Hunter back when they were in Evolution together…and then he started fucking Dave Batista too. Most everyone agreed that was why Evolution dissolved; Hunter didn't like Randy seeing Dave—he thought Dave was bad for him—so he tried to push Randy away, tried to put some distance between Orton and Batista by forcing Randy out of Evolution once he won the title. That didn't work, of course. Randy hated Hunter for pushing him out of the stable, and he continued seeing Batista anyway. Eventually though, if what Wade heard was true, Batista started smacking Randy around. Orton somehow grew a spine after a while and left Dave…right around the time Rated-RKO got together. Then of course Orton and Adam Copeland were fucking, and that lasted for a long time. Nobody really knew why they broke up; some liked to guess that Randy's cheating ways ended the relationship, but nobody really knew the truth. After Adam came Ted and Cody, and that lasted for quite some time…but eventually, according to the rumors, Randy got tired of playing the third wheel in their relationship.

And now it seemed he was seeing John Cena.

Right on cue, the door to the locker room opened, and in stepped the Champ himself. He was wearing his ring gear—jean shorts and a purple and yellow shirt. Where John found the shirt, Wade didn't know, though he could make an educated guess. John walked in the room silently, his hands curling into fists and his eyes hardening like stone as soon as he saw Barrett. Wade stood up as John approached, his own hands also wrapping into fists—just in case Cena wasn't aware of just how angry he was.

"Cena." Wade growled, staring down at the shorter man.

"Barrett." John growled right back, scowling deeply.

"And where the hell have you been?" Wade sneered, placing his hands on his hips.

"None of your damn business." Cena replied quickly.

"Well, considering what happened tonight, I think it is my business." Barrett snarled, pissed that John would dare take that tone of voice with him, "You interrupted my match, stopped me from finishing Orton when he was at his weakest, and then went on to attack your own teammates. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you right this second, Cena."

"You were screwed from the moment your boys came out." John retorted, pointing a finger at Wade, "Did you really think the ref would let you get away with that? You may have the GM in your pocket, but the refs got balls, they don't let punks push them around…"

"You make a valid point, Cena." Wade replied, folding his arms across his wide chest, "Which is why I will not be firing you."

"You're…you're not going to fire me?" John narrowed his eyes suspiciously, unable to believe the words Barrett was saying. As soon as he wrapped an arm around Randy and started helping him limp up the ramp…he was sure his career was done with. Was Barrett…was he actually going easy on John?

"Correct." Wade nodded, his lips spreading into a dark grin, "Let's just say…I enjoy having power over you, Cena. I like watching the so-called Champ jump at my command."

"This won't last forever." John spat, leaning forward threateningly, "Eventually I won't have to listen to you anymore…and when that happens, you're going to regret ever fucking with me."

"But until then, Cena, I'm going to enjoy breaking you down." Barrett smirked cruelly, staring down his nose at John, "And if you insist on defying me…well, you won't be the only one who suffers for it."

"What…what the hell are you trying to say?" John's eyes widened. His fingers twitched at his side, yearning to wrap around Wade's neck and strangle him.

"Don't pretend like you didn't understand me." Wade scoffed arrogantly, "You keep defying me and attacking my team, and I might have to retaliate by attacking someone important to you. It's your choice, John. Keep fighting me and someone important to you might have to pay the consequences."

"You ever fucking touch anyone I care about and I swear to god—" John was roaring like a lion at that point, the veins in his arms bulging as he angrily tensed up.

"Relax, Cena." Barrett's voice was completely calm despite the storm of a man standing in front of him, "If you want me to keep my hands off your…companions, then all you need to do is start obeying me. Now, why don't you get the hell out of here so I can go home?"

John didn't need any other encouragement; he turned and stomped out the door, slamming it loudly behind him as he stepped out.

Wade Barrett couldn't help but smile as he watched him go.

Pissing off Cena, as it turned out, was incredibly easy. All he had to do was insinuate he was going to hurt someone special—perhaps a certain Randy Orton. Well, Barrett thought as he stood up, grabbing his gym bag, if this was how John reacted to the mere thought of Wade hurting Randy…Wade couldn't wait to see how John reacted when it actually happened.

Oh yes, Barrett was going to have fun with Cena and Orton.

If John didn't know any better, he'd say that Barrett knew.

Cena was standing in the hotel elevator, wringing his hands together. Thankfully he was alone; he didn't think he could handle other people right now. Not after all that had happened. After his little discussion with Barrett, he'd quickly ran back to his own hotel room and changed clothes. Jeans and a white tee-shirt, his go-to outfit when he didn't want to spend too much time thinking about what he was going to wear. Not that it mattered anyway; judging from what had happened in the shower earlier it didn't seem like he and Randy would be spending too much time in their clothes. Cena couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of going to Randy's room. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but it'd been quite a while since he'd gotten laid. John liked to think he was a good guy—but he was just that, a guy. He had needs…and they certainly hadn't been fulfilled in a long time. Too long. Maybe that was why he was so eager to get in Randy's pants back at the shower…normally he'd never push a relationship so quickly. But there was something about Orton; ever since their first kiss John hadn't been able to get him out of his head. All week he'd nearly gone mad with desire to see Randy…how he managed to keep his word and stay away until Bragging Rights, he had no idea. Apparently he had far more self-control then he thought. Now that the championship match was over, he could finally reward himself…

The elevator let out a soft beep as it stopped on the fifth floor. John stepped out, walking slowly down the hall, his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets.

No matter how excited he was for tonight, he couldn't help but worry over what Wade had said earlier. He pretty much told John straight up that if he continued to disobey him people would start getting hurt—and right now the only person John gave two shits about was Randy. Was Wade serious about his threat? Did he know about Randy and John's relationship? Even though he had no proof, John had a nagging feeling that Barrett did know—and that he was going to do something about it. He sounded dead serious when he said other people would have to start paying the consequences… Could John really do that to Randy? Could he really put Orton at risk just because he wanted to fuck him senseless? God, John thought with a groan as he stopped in front of room 512, what the hell was he going to do? He practically started drooling every time he saw Randy…but he could never forgive himself if Wade attacked Randy just because John was seeing him. Randy had been hurt so much in the past week…could John really cause him more pain just because he wanted to listen to his dick instead of his brain? John stood in front of Randy's door, staring at the carpet beneath his feet, his hands deep in his pockets. If he knocked on the door…Randy would let him in. If he went in…the combination of Randy and a bed and a locked door would be too much. He'd never be able to resist the temptation…

But he couldn't just leave Randy hanging—right? He told Randy he would come by; it'd be rude and mean to stand him up. He'd just talk to him real quick, tell him Barrett knew too much, tell him it'd be too dangerous to keep seeing him…and then he'd turn around and leave. Right, John could do that, he just needed to scrounge up some of that self-control he'd had earlier in the week.

Raising his fist, John knocked on the door.

It opened quickly, and then Randy stepped out, and John felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

Randy wasn't wearing any shirt. His tight abdominal muscles were flexing impressively as he revealed himself, and his heavily inked arms looked downright sexy. Orton's bicep bulged nicely as he held the door open, the skulls printed on his skin stretching with his arm. Randy's brown hair—which looked longer then it had been in over a year—was a spiky mess, sticking up in all different directions. His blue eyes had a lazy, half-lidded look, and he was wearing a tired smirk, like he'd just gotten roughed up in bed. To make matters even worse, he was wearing dark green sweat pants that hung low on his hips, revealing the chiseled V-cut in his lower abdomen. Smooth, tan skin looked all too touchable, and he was looking up at John expectantly, his icy eyes waiting for Cena to make the first move. But all John could do was stand there, his mind going fuzzy as he couldn't help but stare at Randy's jutting hip bones.

"Uh, John?" Randy cocked his head to the side, looking at John with curiosity.

"Huh?" Cena shook his head slightly, trying to remember what he was supposed to say. Something about Wade Barrett being too dangerous…

"You coming in?" Randy stood aside, holding his tattooed arm out, beckoning John to enter.

Don't do it, the voice in his head said, resist the temptation…try not to think about being alone in a dark room with Randy, the bed close by, nobody to interrupt… Damn it. Too late.

"Yeah, sure." John nodded, walking forward.

Randy shut the door behind him as John walked into the middle of his room. Cena stopped suddenly, staring at Randy's bed before turning around and looking hard at Randy himself. Orton made no effort to hide himself, his arms hanging at his side, his bare torso on full display for John's probing gaze.

"Uh, Randy, I don't know if—" John began, his voice stuttering and unsure.

"Did Barrett give you a hard time?" Randy asked, frowning, "He didn't fire you, did he?"

"No, he didn't." John sighed, "But see, the thing is, I don't think we should—"

"Damn, that's good, isn't it? Well, maybe not." Randy grinned apologetically, "That means you have to keep working under Barrett, right? That sucks."

"Uh, yeah, but Randy I really need to talk to you about something—could you put a damn shirt on or something?" John growled with exasperation. He was finding it incredibly hard to concentrate with Orton prancing around, showing of his stunning physique and bad-boy tattoos.

"Wouldn't that be counterproductive?" Randy smirked cockily, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but…" John bit his bottom lip, "Here's the thing. I think…I think Barrett might know. About us."

"So?" Randy shrugged, his smirk dropping into a frown.

"He…he made it clear that he would hurt anyone close to me." Cena scowled, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, but I don't think we should—"

"Backing out?" Randy rolled his eyes, his frown turning into an angry scowl, "Whatever. Doesn't surprise me anyway."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John demanded.

"Oh come on. We both know I'm not your type. You may want to fuck me, but it's not like you'd ever want anything more than that." Randy snorted.

"How the hell are you not my type? You don't even know what my type is." Cena snarled, feeling himself growing angry. How could Randy stand there and judge him like that? He had been trying to do the right thing…and Orton goes and gets mad…he looked sexy when he was mad…

"I'm not a nice guy. I fucking lie and cheat and do whatever it takes to win. You're the complete fucking opposite of that!" Randy snapped, glaring at John with his pale eyes.

"Maybe that's why I like you!" John snapped right back, his own eyes flashing, "Did you ever think of that Randy? Maybe I like you because you're so different from me—and so different from everyone else I've ever dated!"

"Whatever," Randy threw his hands up in the air dramatically, "If you don't want to fucking see me then just say so and leave me the fuck alone—"

"That's not it at all!" John snarled with disbelief, "I don't want Barrett hurting you, and if that means I have to stay away from you then fine! That's the way it had to be…I'm not going to be the reason Barrett decides to attack you!"

"I don't need you to protect me, Cena!" Randy reached forward, placing his hands on John's chest and shoving him as hard as he could.

John stumbled backwards but somehow managed to catch himself before he fell. Then he reached out, wrapping a fist around the waist on Randy's pants. Orton gasped in surprise as Cena suddenly threw him to the bed. Randy landed on his back, propping himself up on his arms, his six-pack flexing as he sat up slightly, looking up at John with pure rage in his blue eyes. He looked sexy as hell like that: half-naked, glaring up at John angrily, his face flushed red.

"What're you going to do now, John?" Randy purred, still laying on the bed.

"I don't want to hurt you." Cena muttered quietly.

"Maybe I like it when you hurt me." Randy shrugged, still looking up at John.

There was so many things wrong with that statement, but John didn't want to think about that. Instead he bent down and crawled on top of Randy, forcing his mouth against Randy's lips.