"You should really get the fuck out of here." Orton growled, trying to maintain his composure. Fuck, he was in trouble…

"Oh no, Randy," Wade shook his head again, those gleaming eyes of his narrowing, "You took that championship away from me tonight, and now I'm going to make sure you never defy me again…"

Barrett was fast, faster then Randy ever remembered her being in the ring. He let out a violent snarl, leaping across the wooden bench that stood between him and his prey. Eyes wide like a mad man, he speared the Legend Killer in the gut, tackling the slightly shorter man to the ground. Randy cried out in pain at that, still feeling the effects of their match, but he struggled nonetheless. Shooting his arms and legs out in a frenzy, Randy kicked against his attacker, his entire body shaking with effort as he and Barrett fell to the ground. They rolled back and forth, the cold, dry tile floor rubbing against Randy's back as he fought tooth and nail to get the crazy man off of him. It was no use, however, for Barrett was the stronger of the two, and he quickly pinned Randy down, wrapping his hands around Randy's inked wrists and holding him down to the floor.

"You know Randy…" Barrett huffed, his biceps flexing as he tried to hold the whimpering man still, "This is why I am so attracted to you…you have so much fight in you…it's intoxicating."

"F-fuck you!" Orton hissed, baring his teeth like a furious tiger. He didn't like the feeling of Wade on top of him…didn't like their bare chests rubbing against each other, didn't like how Barrett was squeezing his wrists so hard it felt like his bones were splintering, didn't like how their bare, smooth legs were pressed together, hot skin on skin… It was disgusting, like filth all over his body.

"You're so fucking perfect," Barrett went on, kicking Randy's thighs apart, "You've got the looks, the brains, hell, even the fans love you…everyone fucking loves you…"

Orton cried out in anger as Wade pushed his hips forward, the unmistakable hardness in his trunks pressing on Randy's groin. The tile was practically grating against his back now, causing Randy to wince in pain as he shuffled on the floor, still trying to wriggle out of Barrett's grasp.

"The fans love you, the corporation loves you…" Wade glared down at Randy with a mixture of disgust and pure lust, his face a bright, inflamed red, "Even the most powerful superstar alive, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, think you're the best young talent this company's got. Fuck…you've even managed to get John Cena himself to fall for you…"

"W-what the fuck does this have to do with anything?" Randy cried out, his bright eyes looking up at Barrett incredulously. He could still feel Barrett's dick stabbing at him, pressing between his legs…

"You're so perfect…" Wade's voice turned almost whimsical, longing, "I have to have you…"

"I hate you!" Randy screamed, the sheer volume of his own voice frightening him as it echoed off the walls of the locker room.

"I hate you too, Randy." Barrett's voice was so low Randy's could barely hear him, "I don't think you realize just how much I fucking hate you…"

"Then leave me alone! Stop doing this!" Orton's voice actually took on a pleading tone as he squirmed against Barrett's touch. Fuck, Wade was strong…his grip on Randy's wrists was so powerful the pinned man could only move a few inches at a time. Damn, it hurt so bad! Barrett's nails were digging into his skin, his fingers so tightly wound around Randy's forearms that he was sure if he twisted the wrong way Barrett would break his wrists. Where was John? He had to be coming soon…he just had to… Randy swallowed dryly, his throat feeling thick and sticky like he'd swallowed syrup.

"Oh no, I'm not done." Barrett sneered nastily, "I've been dreaming of doing this to you for weeks now…"

He leaned forward, pressing his warm lips against Randy's mouth, causing the trapped man to yelp in surprise and rage. Barrett seized the opportunity, shoving his tongue into Randy's mouth, probing deep into that hot, wet cavern, loving the feeling of Randy's taut body struggling beneath him. The Viper was thrashing against Wade's kiss, his hips bumping against Barrett's, his tight, flat stomach rubbing against Barrett's own abdomen. And then he was bucking his hips, trying desperately to kick out of Wade's hold. Instead he only caused his crotch to rub against Wade's clothed erection, making the younger man almost purr with pleasure. The feeling of his cock sliding against Randy's groin was amazing, causing a rush of heat to surge between his legs. Oh no, he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to…this was far too good of an opportunity to pass up. Randy Orton, pinned beneath him, completely helpless and at his mercy? He was going to make good work of this… Randy's pale eyes widened suddenly as he felt Barrett release one of his hands. The sudden release of pressure on his wrist made Randy breathe a sigh of relief, though his other hand with still being held against the tile. Barrett's limber fingers began working at his trunks then, pulling at the hem, trying to yank them down. Randy screamed out in fear then, kicking his legs out wildly, the muscles in his thick thighs flexing impressively as he struggled against Barret's hold.

"Shut up!" Wade pulled his free fist back and punched Randy in the face so hard that his eye immediately began to swell shut, puffing up and purpling instantly.

"G-get off of me!" Randy howled, his voice laced with pain. The punch had been hard enough to make him see stars, certainly hard enough to make him whimper in agony, reaching with his free hand to gingerly rub the swollen mass that was once his eye.

Barrett paid him no mind, gripping the black fabric of Randy's wrestling trunks and yanking them down his legs. Orton kicked against him, but the punch must've dazed him, for his efforts were weaker. Barrett almost drooled when he saw Randy's cock—soft, unfortunately. It seemed the Legend Killer wasn't enjoying himself…but no matter. Wade didn't give a shit about Randy's pleasure. Oh, if he had could he'd make Orton come so hard he wouldn't even remember the name 'John Cena', but he had a time limit here. His pleasure most certainly came first, so Randy would just have to deal with it. Reaching down with his free hand, Wade quickly pulled his own shorts down, his throbbing cock springing into view. Smirking toothily, Barrett pushed his hips forward, causing Randy to whine in shame as he felt the head of Wade's dick push up against his ass. He couldn't believe this was happening to him, couldn't believe that he was lying naked beneath Wade Barrett, of all people… Barrett closed his eyes in ecstasy as he rolled his hips, the length of his cock sliding against Randy's tight, pink entrance. He could feel the heat radiating from Randy's ass, and the thought of what he was about to do was enough to make his dick pulse.

"If you relax you might actually enjoy this." Barrett purred as he leaned forward, his tongue slipping past his lips and gliding along Randy's throat, causing the older man to shiver.

"Like hell!" Randy snarled, jerking his head away from Wade's touch, "You're fucking disgusting!"

"Fine!" Wade growled back, scowling deeply as his eyes darkened, "You want this to be painful? I can do that. I can give you pain…"

Barrett leaned back then, pushing his hips forward. Randy screamed, his throat going raw he screamed so loud as he felt the tip of Barrett's cock push into him. Wade's smirk grew into a psychotic smile as he suddenly shoved his dick into Randy, burying his cock as deep as he could into the trapped man. Randy screamed even louder at that, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his head back, jaw in the air. Barrett moaned in pleasure as he pulled out and then slammed his cock back into Randy, the tight heat practically choking his dick. The slick sound of skin on skin sounded out as Barrett pulled out and then again and again and again he thrust his dick into Randy, groaning in pleasure as he stretched Randy's tight ass. He hadn't prepped Randy at all, and the pinned man whimpered in pain as he was stuffed with Wade's thick cock, his back arching as he tried to remain as still as possible. The less he moved, the less the thrusting hurt. Wade was having none of that, however, for he was bucking his hips wildly, ramming himself in and out of Randy's unwilling body.

"Mmm… so fucking tight!" Wade hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the pleasure build between his legs.

"F-fuck you!" Randy whined, biting his bottom lip so hard he drew a single drop of bright red blood.

The pain was so intense Randy clenched his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry. It felt like he was being torn in two, Wade was fucking him so hard and so fast. He and Johnny had had fun, they'd gone hard and rough…but never, never had it hurt…Johnny had always made sure he felt good… Just thinking of Cena while Barrett's cock slid inside him was enough to break Randy. Letting out a heaving sob, his eyes burned, and then there were two hot streams flowing down his cheeks. Barrett grunted then, renewing his thrusting with vigor, his cock pounding hard into Randy's hot ass. In and out he fucked Randy, again and again his cock pushing inside of that tight hole. It was too much, with a cry of pleasure Wade felt his body convulse, and then his cock was jerking inside of Randy, and with a few quick thrusts he came hard. Burying himself into Randy's ass as deep as he could go, Wade went still as his dick shot hot cum inside of the pinned man, the mind-numbing ecstasy of his orgasm literally making him see white as he came inside of Randy.

Randy was crying silently when Barrett pulled out of him, the tall man standing up and pulling up his wrestling trunks, his eyes half-lidded over like a druggie who'd just gotten his fix. He didn't even look at Randy, instead heading toward the door of the locker room and placing his hand on the metal handle. Turning, he looked down at his prey, his lips curling into a smirk. Randy was laying on the tile, naked, his eye a bright blackish-purple and swollen so badly it was almost completely shut. There were dried tears staining his face, and fresh ones pouring down past those stains. His legs were still spread; he hadn't moved a muscle since Wade had finished inside of him, and now Barrett could see a small amount of blood pooling between Randy's legs…along with the cum, of course.

"Well Randy," Barrett chuckled, "Who's disgusting now?"

He turned and left without even realizing that his victim had not been awake to hear him.

John Morrison was laying on his stomach, reaching around with his left hand, trying hard to massage a tightened muscle in his back. Wincing as his fingers rubbed into the wound up string of muscle, he squirmed against the hotel comforter, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. At first he'd thought he pulled something, but after some investigation he discovered that it couldn't possibly been a pulled muscle. It would've hurt a lot more if it was. It was much more likely he just strained it or twisted the wrong way…damn Starship Pain. Of course he had to go and pick a signature move that was difficult to perform and harsh on the body… Letting out a groan of contempt, Morrison rolled onto his back and sat up, simultaneously swinging his legs over the bed. It was late; Survivor Series had ended a good hour ago, but somehow he'd had a bit of trouble falling asleep. Maybe if he had a man to keep him warm…no, Morrison shook his head, his lovely brown hair waving back and forth. After Mike, he'd made a promise to himself to stay single for a while. Sure, it was lonely, but he definitely needed some time to himself. His room was dimly lit—he wasn't much one for bright lights—and impeccably clean. His suitcases were on the far wall, neatly lined up, and even the comforters are his bed were pulled tidily. After Survivor series had ended he'd decided to clean and pack while he could—they only had two or three days left in the city anyway before it was on to the next one.

There was a sudden pounding on his door, so loud that it made Morrison jump slightly, his eyes widening.

Who on earth could it be? Standing up slowly, Morrison headed over to his suitcase, reaching down and scooping up a white t-shirt. The muscles in his arms tightening, he lifted the shirt over his head, quickly pulling it down over his torso. The black jeans he was wearing were on the tighter side but modest enough, he decided as he headed over towards the door. Whoever was knocking had not given up; they were ramming the door so hard it was shaking in its frame. His bare feet shuffling across cheap, scratchy carpet, Morrison grumbled something about it being two in the morning as he reached for the doorknob, wrenching the door open.

"Alright already, for fuck's sake I'm…John?" Morrison cocked his head in confusion as his brain registered who was standing before him.

John Cena looked like he had murdered someone.

The Chaingang Soldier was pale like white linen, and his eyes were such a dark shade of blue they looked almost black. When Morrison looked into Cena's eyes he could've sworn he was looking into the depths of a stormy, angry ocean. But that wasn't the worst part…the worst part was his pale blue t-shirt had a dark red stain in the center, towards his stomach…

"John man…what the hell's the matter?" Morrison's friendly smile dipped into a concerned frown.

"I…I need your help…" Cena stumbled over his words, his voice breaking in the middle of his plea. Fuck, he looked a mess…his eyes were pink, like he'd been crying, and Morrison couldn't help but notice that his knuckles were scraped raw, like he'd punched a brick wall over and over again.

"Cena, you're scaring me." Morrison shook his head, "Please tell me what's wrong, you look like somebody's died.

John remained silent, his eyes falling to the floor, his fists clenched so hard his forearms were shaking.

"John, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." Morrison said slowly, his words careful and calm. Cena looked like a man on the edge right now, he couldn't afford to push him…

"You…you have to see." John spat, his words suddenly turning angry.

Cena turned around, offering Morrison his wide back, turning to the room next to Morrison's. Randy's room, of course. Somehow Morrison had known this had something to do with Randy… He didn't waste time; as soon as Cena reached out and pushed Randy's door open Morrison jumped forward, not even caring that he didn't have any shoes on. The Champ looked severely shaken…something terrible had to have happened. John Cena wasn't one to scare easily…if he was this upset, then he had a damn good reason to be. He followed silently behind John's massive body, unable to really see where Cena was leading him. Eventually they made it to the center of the room…where the bed was…

Morrison gasped out loud, reaching up and clamping his hand over his open mouth, trying desperately to silence himself.

Randy Orton was laying in the bed on his back, clad in nothing but a loose pair of black sweat pants. His usually tan skin was pale and sickly, like it was stretched to tightly across his muscle and bone. A violet bruise marred Randy's handsome face, his eye so swollen it looked like someone had slipped an egg under his flesh. His bottom lip was crusted over with a tiny droplet of dried blood, the normally soft lips looking tender, worn. His eyes scanning down Randy's still body, Morrison chewed on his bottom lip, willing himself to remain silent as he saw the rings of navy blue bruises circling Randy's wrists. Oh god…it looked like someone had held him down…held him down hard. But that wasn't it…the inside of Randy's knees were black and blue as well…almost like…almost like he'd been… No. It was simply impossible. Randy was strong, he'd never let this…he'd never let this happen! But then a small voice in Morrison's mind reminded him of the gym…reminded him what going to happen…what he had been able to stop… The poor thing lying on the bed seemed to be sleeping. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling in rhythm. But there was something unsettling about the way Randy was frowning…like he'd never be happy again. Like he was caught in some nightmare, some horrible sleep he didn't want to be in. A shiver ran down Morrison's spine as he looked at the sleeping man…was it from the paralyzing sadness that seemed to radiate from Orton? Or was it because deep down…deep down Morrison knew…he knew what had happened…

"I…I found him in his locker room." Cena stammered.

"Randy? Randy…please answer me! Oh fuck…!" Cena was screaming as he fell at Randy's side. His lover was slipping in and out of consciousness, his eyes half shut, pupils dilating and constricting randomly, unable to focus.

"No…no, no, no!" Cena howled, reaching up, his fingers weaving into his light hair, tugging at his scalp so hard it was like his hair was being ripped from his head. Randy shift on the floor, sighing in pain as he stretched his legs out…and then…then John saw the blood…red staining beige tile…

"Who…who did it?" Morrison choked on his own words, unable to take his chocolate eyes off of Randy's silent form.

"Who do you think?" Cena's voice turned low, his words sharp and angry.

"Come on Randy, please wake up!" John had taken Randy's head in his lap, reaching out and drawing his fingers lightly across Orton's cheek, trying to get the disoriented man to wake up.

"Johnny…" Randy's lips moved clumsily, his voice slurring so badly that John barely understood his own name.

"Tell me…tell me who did this!" John hissed past clenched teeth, his jaws so tight he was sure his molars were crushing each other.

"Barrett?" Morrison cocked an eyebrow upwards, turning to face John.

"Good guess." Cena spat.

"What…what do you want me to do?" Morrison asked quietly.

"Stay with him." Cena replied, turning towards the door, "Keep him comfortable and…and if he wakes up…stay with him. He'll need you."

"Me? No, he won't need me." Morrison shook his head slowly, his eyes hardening, "He'll need you. You can't leave him now…not when he needs you most."

"I have to end this. This—" Cena waved his arm towards the bed, "—is never going to end if I don't do something about it. I have to make sure Randy will never get hurt again."

"And what am I supposed to tell him if he wakes up?" Morrison placed his hands on his shapely hips, "That you ran off? That you're not here for him?"

"Tell him the truth. That I'm finishing this for good." Cena shrugged, still facing the door, his back to Morrison.

"Oh yeah? And how the hell are you going to do that?" Morrison through his hands in the air, "Barrett's got the entire Nexus on his side…you're just one person."

"Looks like I'm going to have to get some help." Cena said, opening the door and stepping out.