When Randy's music came on, the crowd went wild.
John Cena was standing in the middle of the ring, a dark frown on his handsome face, his hands resting on his hips. The familiar 'Voices' boomed through the air, causing the entire stadium to go into a wild frenzy. Children climbed on top of their seats, wide eyes eagerly scanning the floor for their Viper. The older ones screamed and clapped, bouncing up and down, proclaiming their infatuation for Randy Orton. Despite the heavy feelings circulating in his mind, John had to suppress a smile. He remembered not too long ago when Randy was easily the most hated heel in the entire company…he was just so very good at being bad. Technically everyone in the company could be a potential heel or a potential face—he, John Cena, was perfect proof of that. But there were some who easily leaned more toward one or the other; Edge, for example, did a great job as a face…but nobody could deny that—when it really came down to it—he was born to be a heel. Randy was like that as well. Maybe it was the piercing, haunted blue stare he could give that would make toddlers shiver in their seats. Or maybe it was the black drawings of skulls that lined his arms. Perhaps it was even the way Randy had perfected his cold sneer, pursing his lips into a dark scowl that made him look meaner then hell. Whatever it was, Randy had always had the look of a heel…and he'd played the part admirably.
When the Legend Killer stepped into view, his chiseled body shining with baby oil, the already thunderous crowd grew even louder. The cheers, whistles and claps grew so deafeningly loud that John could feel the ring vibrating beneath his sneakers. Funny how just a year ago Randy and his Legacy were the most hated trio in the WWE…now Randy's popularity was rivaling John Cena himself. No doubt it had something to do with the fact that Orton was the single competitor who was refusing to back down to the Nexus… An infuriated scowl on his face, Randy began striding forward, approaching the ring slowly as his music roared throughout the stadium. John gave a dry swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as Randy drew closer and closer. There was a sadness in Randy's pale eyes that John desperately hoped the cameras couldn't pick up. His own stomach was churning as he stared Randy down, willing his lover to meet his gaze. Orton, however, was staring into nothingness, his eyes a blank canvas. Were it not for the tightened muscles in Randy's jaw, it would be impossible to tell how upset he was. Walking up the steps into the ring, his hips swaying in a tantalizing motion that Cena couldn't help but stare at, Randy pulled off his championship belt, handing it to the ref. Turning his back on John, Randy stretched his shoulders a little, cocking his head to the side, his jaws still clenched shut.
"Randy?" John spoke so softly that not even the ref could hear him. Randy could, however, judging from the way he tensed up, the muscles in his back flexing. He chose to ignore John, though, refusing to turn around and face him.
And then the bell sounded.
Randy turned slowly, his whole body slumping slightly, like he was incredibly tired. His eyes finally rose up to meet John's stare, and as soon as they made eye contact John could feel his stomach drop. He might as well have been staring into blue fire; such was the rage and hurt that filled Randy's baby blues. Even though the crowd was still cheering, John could not hear them. He was standing there—in his jean shorts and sneakers—wanting nothing more than to grab Randy by the shoulders and shake him until he understood why John did what he did. But he couldn't do that…they had to fight, for fuck's sake. This was Barrett's idea of a sick joke, John knew. To make Randy and John fight after he forced John to leave him…only Barrett could do something so cruel.
"Randy…" John sighed, his thick shoulders heaving as he took a step toward Orton, "I'm sorry…I'm so sor—"
Randy's hand curled into fists as he scowl dipped into a toothy snarl. Reaching up, he pushed his hands into John's chest, causing the crowd to gasp in surprise as he shoved Cena roughly away from him. John barely had time to register the shock before he stumbled backwards, just barely regaining his footing as his sneakers slid across the flat ring floor.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" Randy hissed, his hands still clenched into angry fists. He was leaning forward, glaring at John with pure hatred, daring the older man to make a move.
"Randy, please just listen to me—" John took a ginger step forward, reaching his hand out and just barely grazing his soft fingertips on Randy's bicep. That, it turned out, was a big mistake. Orton let out a howl of disgust and jerked his body away, baring his teeth in a furious growl. Barreling his body forward, Randy suddenly slammed himself into John, the crowd roaring in approval as Cena was knocked off his feet. Orton rushed forward then, preparing to drop an elbow on John's nose, but Cena managed to roll to the side, leaping nimbly to his feet. Grunting in effort, John reached out and wrapped his hand around Randy's wrist, effortlessly tossing the taller man over his shoulder and onto the ground. Cena couldn't help but wince noticeably as Randy's back connected with the floor…he hated hurting his Viper. Even if it wasn't real. But deep down he knew that—no matter how angry Randy was with him, he would always put his job first. They had a show to put on, and neither John nor Randy would be willing to allow their differences to compromise their performance in front of the fans. Both of them cared way too much for that to happen…
Randy scrambled to his feet, the crowd egging him on with chants of R-K-O. Straightening up, he glared at John with rage, his entire body tense with fury.
"Randy please listen!" John yelped as he ducked out of the way of one of Randy's punches, "I'm sorry…I'm so fucking sorry—"
This time he didn't move fast enough and Randy's punch caught him in the gut—hard. Crying out in pain, John crumbled to the ground, clutching his abdomen.
"What the hell Randy?" John groaned, biting his bottom lip as he looked up at the man standing over his kneeling body, "That…that fucking hurt!"
Randy responded by pulling his leg back and then launching it out against John's chest, easily knocking all of John's breath out from inside him. Heaving with effort, trying desperately to inhale some oxygen, John struggled back onto his knees, barely able to believe that his lover was hurting him like this. The crowd loved it, however, for the thunder of their applause had grown even louder than before.
"Randy back off!" John coughed, his pleading eyes looking up at Orton, "You're hurting me—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Randy roared, "You deserve it!"
"Randy, I'm sorry, I really am…" John protested as he climbed to his feet, careful not to make a threatening move toward his opponent, "I had to…I couldn't stand by and watch him hurt you any—"
"Fuck you!" The Viper screamed, taking a menacing step towards John, "I didn't fucking do anything to deserve this! Barrett's a bastard…but you! I…I never…"
Randy seemed to choke on his words, his voice catching in his throat.
"I never…I never would've thought you'd do something like this…" Randy finally spat, "You…I…I thought we…how could you fucking do this to me? I…I know we weren't friends…but fuck John! I never would've thought you'd fuck with me like this! This is just…this is fucking disgusting! How could you play with me like this?"
With every word he spoke, Randy's voice cracked more and more, his eyes darkening to the point that they looked like two stormy blue oceans. He was breaking, John could see that now…with a fluttering in his chest, he realized that Wade Barrett was finally beginning to accomplish what he had set out to do weeks ago…Randy Orton was breaking right in front of John's eyes, right in front of millions of viewers, right in front of a live audience. John could feel confusion and a sick dread building up inside him…Randy wasn't making much sense, what was he talking about? John's head was swirling with a mixture of emotions…confusion, hatred, love, anger, sadness…fuck, he felt like his brain was ready to explode as he stood there, his eyes softening as he realized that Randy's eyes had turned red with emotion.
"Randy," John spoke quietly, his voice raw with hurt, "I…I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Shut the fuck up…" Randy shook his head, his words sounding like a groan of pain, "I know…I know none of this was real, ok? You can fucking stop pretending…"
"What are you talking about?" Cena held out his hands with his palms out, disbelief washing over him like ice water.
"Barrett fucking told me!" The rage was back in Randy's voice as he shouted, "He fucking told me you…you only did this because he ordered you to! I don't…I don't know how you could do this to me…I never did anything to you to deserve this!"
"What the hell did he tell you?" John roared suddenly, his meaty hand curling into huge fists as he took a step towards Randy, blue eyes wide and fearful.
"I don't know why you did this…" Randy's voice grew into a quiet, low whine as his eyes dropped to the floor, "I thought…I thought it was real…I really did. Fuck…can you believe I'm that fucking stupid?"
"I don't know what Barrett told you," Cena hissed, "But it was a lie, Randy…whatever the hell he told you, it was a damn lie!"
"F-fuck you…" Randy reached up, discreetly wiping his eyes as he turned away from John.
He walked out of the ring as the crowd booed furiously, disappearing from view quickly.
John knew he should've done something to appease the crowd, but he didn't care. He had far more important things to worry about. Taking a running start, Cena leaped over the top rope, landing on the ground and sprinting up the ramp. Vince was going to be pissed about their performance, but at this point John didn't even care. He had to make Randy see the truth, he just had to.
When John burst through the door, Randy was sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his ring gear, leaving most of his tan, lean body open to John's eyes. When Cena strode in, his hands in tight fists at his side, Randy looked up, his lips twisted into an infuriated grimace. Other then the lone man sitting on the bench, the locker room was quite bare. Smooth blue carpet brushed beneath John's Under Armor sneakers as he took a few steps forward, his eyes glaring at Randy with such intensity that the sitting man had to look away. He didn't like the way John made him feel when he stared at him…almost like he was being x-rayed from the inside out. Like John could see right through him…see how fucking stupid and worthless he really was. Oh, Randy was angry at John, but he was angrier at himself. How could he have been so fucking stupid? Did he really think someone like John—who could have anyone he wanted—would ever really be interested in Randy? God, he was so damn stupid… Beneath the anger was black shame; shame that he had fallen for such a trick, shame that he had allowed Johnny to see the real him… He was infamous for shutting people out, and now…the one time he was stupid enough to let someone in…they go and make a fool of him. Fury and shame were bubbling inside Randy's gut, churning over each other, making him feel like rushing to the bathroom and puking his intestines out.
John was standing before him, also still in his ring gear. His lips were pursed into an uncomfortable frown, and Randy could feel those sapphire eyes scanning him up and down, could feel them almost like someone had thrown a blanket on him…all over his body…everywhere all at once… He fidgeted under John's gaze, keeping his own eyes stubbornly focused on the ground. Fuck, they had completely screwed up the match out there…Vince was not going to be happy. Hell, the fans were probably demanding that they come back out and finish the fight… Ha. Randy had to suppress a dark laugh. What if the fans knew the truth? That their beloved Chaingang Soldier had wooed the pants off of the Legend Killer himself…literally. They'd probably be appalled and disgusted if they knew the truth…and they'd all probably laugh at Randy for being so fucking stupid…
"Randy…look at me." John's voice was rough around the edges, his words clipped and tight.
Orton refused, choosing instead to focus his pained stare on the carpet beneath his feet. To his horror, John stepped toward him, reaching out with his hand. His fingers wrapped beneath Randy's jaw, forcibly angling Randy's face upward. Sky met the ocean as their eyes connected, and then Randy wrenched his head from John's grasp, standing up and stumbling away from the older man, almost tripping over his own feet.
"Randy please—" John began exasperatedly, reaching up and rubbing his tired eyes.
"No…no, fuck you!" Randy snarled, pointing an angry finger at John, "Why the fuck should I stand here and listen to you after…after everything you've done to me?" He took a few steps back, his feet carefully stepping across the carpet, fearful eyes stuck on John.
"Randy, whatever the hell Barrett told you was a lie!" Cena said, impatiently shaking his head as he took a slow step toward Orton, "He's trying to mess with your head…I swear, whatever he said I did, it's a lie!"
"Why should I believe you?" Randy howled, leaning towards John, his rage causing him to not back down, "It all makes fucking sense now! This whole time you've only fucking gotten close to me because Barrett told you to! You don't give a shit about me! You don't fucking care about anything!"
"Don't say I don't care!" John growled, taking another step forward. Now they were close, barely a foot apart, Randy almost naked, and John with so much pure anger pumping through his veins…like fire flowing through his body.
"Fuck you! Fuck all of this!" Randy reached his hands up and harshly pushed John in the chest, his hands thumping against John's abdomen almost like he had tried to shove a wall.
"Don't push me, Randy!" Cena snarled, his hands twisting into fists, "And don't you fucking say I don't care!"
"You don't give a shit about me!" Randy repeated, picking up his hands and letting out a cry of anger as he shoved John in the chest again, his fingertips brushing roughly against John's bare chest.
"Stop fucking saying that!" John roared, this time picking up his own hands and pushing Randy in the chest. The younger man let out a yelp of surprise as he was shoved backwards, his back connecting with the metal locker, causing a loud, metallic clang to sound out.
"You…don't…fucking…care!" Randy spat out each word with pure venom, reaching up to once again push the much larger man in the chest.
This time, however, something in John snapped.
He grabbed Randy by the wrists, causing him to cry out as John's fingers wrapped around his limbs, squeezing tightly. Growling loudly, John shoved Randy against the locker hard, causing the younger man to cry out in pain. Randy didn't have time to react before John leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Randy's, shoving his tongue into Orton's mouth. The Viper was so surprised by this act that he froze up, eyes wide as John's lips tore at his own mouth, tongue probing forward, his teeth scraping against Randy's soft lips. John held Randy's wrists in place even as the smaller man came to his senses, squirming, fighting against John's touch, his hips swaying back and forth, abdominal muscles flexing and tightening with each movement. Cena growled as he sensed Randy's resistance, and he shoved his hips forward, thrusting his groin between Randy's legs, his teeth still biting on Randy's bottom lip. Randy let out a howl of protest as he felt John's thick erection stabbing him between his legs, pressing against him, begging for attention. Despite the rage he felt, Randy couldn't help but roll his hips forward, grinding his crotch against the bulge in Cena's pants. John couldn't help but growl in pleasure as he felt the tip of his dick push up against Randy's own erection, and he thrust his hips back and forth, loving the hot feeling of his cock brushing up against Randy's, the friction practically causing him to see white.
John moved his lips away from Randy's mouth, then, sliding down to his neck and latching on. Randy's roar of anger soon turned into a low, guttural moan of pleasure as John began sucking on his neck, his teeth scraping against his hot skin. Randy's back rubbing against the cool metal of the locker John had him pressed up against, John pushed their hips together, thrusting back and forth, loving the feel of the hardness between his legs stabbing against Randy's groin. Pulling Randy by his wrists, John suddenly let go of Randy's neck. His fingers gripped tight around Randy's limb, he yanked the younger man toward the bench, pushing him roughly, forcing Randy to bend forward, his upper body laid out over the bench, tight ass high in the air. Randy didn't fight back as John reached forward, his fingers gripping the fabric of Randy's trunks, pulling them down so fast that Randy didn't even have time to react. Only when John's released one of Randy's wrists, reaching down and yanking down his zipper, did Randy finally seem to register what he was about to do. He struggled a little, his perfect round ass writhing in the air as John reached into his jean shorts, pulling out his rock hard dick. Reaching up with his free hand, John spit and then rubbed his cock, suppressing a moan of pleasure as he rubbed his hand up and down his own dick.
Randy's struggling grew more frenzied, causing John to snarl impatiently. Reaching forward with both his hands, he grabbed Randy's wrists, pinning them down on the bench, forcing Randy's lean, muscular body to bend over the wood, leaving his vulnerable ass high in the air, his tight, pink heat open to John's view. Randy let out a howl of protest as he felt the thick head of John's cock brush up against his entrance, but John held him still, pushing his hips forward. The throbbing tip of John's dick pushed into Randy's ass, causing the younger man to whine in pleasure, and then John let out a lustful growl before shoving his hips forward, burying his dick inside Randy's tight heat. Orton moaned in pleasure and pain as John yanked himself back out before shoving right back in. He began a vigorous pace then, stabbing his huge cock in and out of Randy's ass, his hips rolling back and forth as he fucked Randy so hard his balls were slapping up against Randy's thighs. Any type of resistance in Randy had been snuffed out, for he was backing into John's thrusts, shoving his ass backward, meeting each of John's stabs with his own thrusts.
Cena's dick was sliding in and out of Randy with a slick wet sound, and then he was thrusting so hard and so deep that Randy began arching his back up, whining in pleasure. John threw his head back; his face flushed deep red as his cock buried deep inside of his lover. And then he reached around, his hand grabbing Randy's swollen dick. Within a few jerks Randy came in his hand, his dick shooting spirals of hot, white liquid, his ass convulsing around John's cock. Placing his hands on Randy's hips, John yanked the younger man against him, his cock stabbing deep and hard into Randy's ass. Feeling the heat building between his legs, John dug his nails into Randy's skin, pulling on his hips, thrusting his cock in and out of Randy's ass. He came hard, his cock spurting cum deep into Randy's ass, his balls smacking up against Randy's groin as he finished with a few more quick, hard thrusts. His body completely spent, John pulled himself out, collapsing on top of Randy's panting, hot body. They remained like that for a few moments, John's thicker body stretched out across Randy's tanner frame, both of their chests heaving with effort, both of their faces a bright pink, both their bodies bent over the wooden bench. An awkward silence filled the air then, with Randy choosing to stare at the floor, his body covered and sweat and cum staining his ass. John stood up, looking down at the spent man beneath him, his ass bright red.
"Randy…" John's voice was quiet, yet Randy flinched noticeably at the sudden break in the silence.
"You should go." Randy murmured, remaining on the ground, facing away from John.
"Randy, please don't—" Cena pleaded, still staring down at the naked man before him.
"Just go." Randy repeated, still refusing to turn and meet John's eyes.
Cena reached down, zipping his shorts back up, and then he turned, walking out the door.
I apologize for how long this has taken me. I hit a bout of depression after my husband deployed to Afghanistan and couldn't for the life of me write or read or focus on anything really...but I seem to have FINALLY pulled myself out of it! Expect another update to this within a week. Not much more to go...just a few more chapters left and then I'll be starting on a new project!
Also, I got a new poll up! Please go check it out!