Good mooooorning world!
This is an early post, because I finished it very late last night and was too tired to upload it. So now I'm gonna do it because it haunted me all through the night O.o
That's why I keep this AN short (I have to go to work now and I'm late, as always ;-).
Enjoy!
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The first thing John became aware of was… a wonderful addictive scent. And warmth. He nuzzled his face against that warmth and it was soft. Slowly a steady and calming little sound became audible, accompanied by a gentle movement in his embrace. A hum slipped past his lips. God, he loved listening to Randy's breathing…
"Randy…"
A mere sigh. This was the most perfect way to wake up. It was the way he wanted to wake up every day from now on and for the moment he successfully managed to shut off that ever-present little voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that they were not an item, no matter how it might feel the rest of the time. And because that little voice kept silent for once, he was allowed to dwell in this wonderful moment.
They hadn't changed their positions the whole night through and Randy was still completely wrapped up in his arms and pressed against his chest. And he was clinging to John's arm, holding onto it with both hands. Gently John pulled the body in his arms even closer, shifting a bit until their bodies touched from head to toe. God, it felt so… so… he had no words how incredibly good this felt. And under his hand he felt the steady rhythm of Randy's heart and absentmindedly he began to brush his thumb back and forth in a tender caress. In response he received a content sigh and then Randy snuggled deeper into his embrace, making John smile softly.
Gazing over Randy's shoulder and into the already brightly lit day his mind drifted back to the last night. Randy had brought up what he had feared to hear. That being this close wasn't right. That it shouldn't be like this. Yet it was obvious that Randy, although being the one voicing it, wasn't feeling this way, that he wanted this closeness. And the way Randy had turned into that small kiss, back at his room at the hospital…
What… what are we?
It had shocked him in a way, because he wouldn't have expected a question like that from Randy. Such a question implied that there could be… more. If he hadn't chosen the wrong words by mistake, why would he ask something like that? But…
You're the best friend I've ever had, Johnny.
Best friends. Were they really… best friends? Just that? Wasn't this going far beyond being best friends? No… no, they were more. Wincing slightly John tried hard to ignore Phil's words which came back just this very second, telling him that Randy was depending on him. And somehow those words, even if John refused to believe them, made whatever this was between them almost seem like a miserable alternative to… Sam. And then these three little words, with so very different feelings behind them…
Barely audible John whispered: "I love you…"
There was no reaction from Randy and using the chance John cautiously placed a tender kiss on Randy's neck… and on his shoulder…
Four days left until the surgery. Four days to make Randy want to stay with him forever, no matter how utopic that sounded, because after the surgery, when Randy would be healed, Sam would most likely want him back. In the beginning John had been okay with the idea to get Randy through this alive and see him go back to his wife but now things had changed… now that they had grown so very close…
With a soft snore Randy let go of John's arm and shifted to lie on his belly. John's eyes swept to the beautiful piece of art that spread over the tanned shoulders and arms and with a feather light touch he let his fingertips trace over it, leaving goose bumps in their wake. A shiver rand through the younger man, followed by a mumble.
"Johnny…?"
Randy turned his head towards John and blinked at him with sleepy eyes. Bracing on an elbow, the older man smoothed a hand over the short hair and smile fondly down at him, receiving a tiny smile from Randy in response.
"Sorry for waking you," he murmured.
"Nah 's okay. What time is it?"
John gazed over to the alarm clock and stated: "It is… eight a.m. and you can sleep a little longer if you want. I'm gonna get up and make some breakfast. We've got some things to take care of today until you can meet your little girl."
"Sleeping a little longer sounds good," Randy mumbled, already drifting off again as John crawled out of the bed.
Randy's eyes were closed by the moment John looked back down on him again and just as he wanted to leave, he heard his friend whispering something. Leaning close he tried to make out what it was.
"Cold…"
It wasn't really cold in the room but John pulled the blanket up to Randy's shoulder nevertheless. A movement caught his attention. It was Randy's hand under the blanket, roaming the space where John had been lying only a minute ago.
"Johnny… 's cold… without you…"
Frozen to the spot John stared down at him, the words tugging at his heart although he knew that Randy wasn't awake… or maybe because he knew that he wasn't awake…
Eventually he managed to wrench himself away from the sight and after his trip to the bathroom he went down, preparing a nice breakfast. That done he called in the hospital to ask for an address of a medical supply store where they could get the needed wheelchairs. It was around nine a.m. when he was finally done and made his way back up to Randy's room, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting and with a sunny smile spread over his lips.
A while later they sat at the kitchen table, having a decent breakfast
"You should try that more often," John said smiling.
Randy furrowed his brows in question, chewing his breakfast busily.
"I meant you should try more often to move on your own accord, like getting in and out of the wheelchair and I know you don't like it, but we have a lot of physio to do," John explained and Randy rolled his eyes. "Don't give me funny looks, Orton. Physio starts after the breakfast and then we're gonna get your two new Ferraris."
The answer was a cocked eyebrow.
"Oh and, Sam said I can drop you off at your house around one p.m.," John stated. "I'm gonna hang out a bit with Phil and you can call when you want me to pick you up."
"I thought you could stay with me and Ally?" Randy asked, sounding a bit disappointed. "She likes you."
"And I like her, really, but Sam is gonna be around, too, and the last times we met we didn't get along all too well," John admitted.
The younger man frowned.
"What happened?"
John never wanted to tell him about their unpleasant conversations, but he didn't have to spill the details, did he?
"Let's just say she… wasn't very nice and she didn't say very nice things about you," John said slowly. "I'm sorry, Ran."
"Sam isn't a bad person, John," Randy said quietly and a small and melancholic, lopsided smile tugged at his lips as he spoke. "She's an amazing mom and I know, the way she acts seems cold-hearted, but… that's not her. It's just… I guess she couldn't cope with the situation and my decision. But maybe we can get over the shit that happened when the surgery is through…"
Randy's voice was heavily laced with sadness, but the stinging pain in John's chest wasn't just because of that sadness.
"You miss her," John said and it wasn't a question.
Randy averted his eyes and nodded slightly, before whispering: "She's my wife. Sam and Ally are my family and god knows I have no damn words for how much I miss…"
The younger man didn't finish his sentence but what had been said had been pretty clear. And John swallowed hard against the lump that built in his throat because…
"You want to go home," John added and did his best to keep his voice steady and this time Randy closed his eyes and sighed thickly.
It is his goddamn right…
"Well, I told her about the surgery," he said and his voice suddenly sounded very hoarse to his own ears. "If she's had a problem with you refusing a treatment, then it shouldn't be a problem now for you to go back home."
With that he got up from his chair and began to clear the table, a fake smile spreading over his face as he put the dishes into the dishwasher and he turned his back to Randy so his friend wouldn't see his mask waver.
God, it hurt… feeling Randy slip through his fingers… All the time John had been aware that Randy would most likely choose to go back home to his family but he had wished, hoped, prayed… begged that he wouldn't. But he would. And too damn soon…
Randy watched John a while, taking in the tenseness of those broad shoulders. He knew John wanted to show him that he was happy about him going back home, but he'd come to know the older man enough over the past weeks to know that he wasn't.
"John?" Randy asked worried, moving the wheelchair over to John as he didn't react. "Johnny? What's wrong?"
The older man's heart dropped a bit. John's attempt to hold his fake smile up failed miserably and so he tried to at least keep his face as blank as possible as he turned around to his friend, meeting his questioning gaze. Randy took hold of his hand and pulled him down gently and not giving any resistance, John kneeled down in front of the younger man and allowed him to pull him into a hug that instantly morphed to a tight embrace and without the slightest hesitation Randy buried his face against John's neck.
But as just as he did that, something in John's chest cracked and whispered because he didn't trust his voice: "Maybe… if you miss Sam, maybe you shouldn't do this now. Only a few hours and you can hold her, Ran. You…"
"No…"
The word was breathed against John's neck, making him shiver ever so slightly and Randy drew back a bit, locking gazes with him.
"God, Johnny, you think you're just a replacement for her, don't you? You are not, you hear me?"
Am I not?
"I know that," John muttered. "A friend can't be a replacement for your wife and gods beware, I wouldn't want that. I'm okay, don't worry."
Liar. Tell him...!
Various expressions shone in the grey eyes. Guilt? And the sadness was still there, but this sadness seemed different from the one just a few moments ago. And right in this moment John knew it would have been the right thing to do to say: don't. Don't be sad. And don't feel guilty. This isn't your fault. But he couldn't say it. The grey eyes flicked back and forth, taking on that soul-searching expression he'd seen once before, that expression that pierced right into the depths of his soul and for a second John was sure this gaze was ripping the walls around his well-hidden secret down, revealing all there was.
"You… you are far more as my friend, Johnny. You are… I…"
And there it was again, the question what they were and although John had given an answer to it, the question had not been answered. Randy fell silent as he realized that he had no idea how to explain something he couldn't fully comprehend himself. And John waited, a shadow casting over his eyes… daring him to say… it. Whatever it was. But the second he saw Randy avert his eyes he knew he wouldn't get an answer and with a sigh that came straight from the depths of his heart John hung his head.
"It's okay, Randy," he whispered then, slipping out of the younger man's embrace as he straightened up. "It's okay. Come on, let's do some physio. Time's running."
With that he left the kitchen and went over to the living room, leaving a confused and uncertain behind Randy. Sitting down on the couch he waited and it took Randy almost a full minute to follow. They didn't speak much during the physio, only what was necessary, but the younger man was a very willing participant, John noticed. Maybe because he wanted to placate him.
By the time they were at the medical supply store the mood was better again. Trying out various types of wheelchairs proved to be quite amusing, including races through the store. Just to test the chairs of course.
And then… it was time. They made their way to Randy's house and the closer they came, the more Randy became nervous. It was strange to see that massive nervousness fall off of the younger man just like that the moment they pulled into the driveway of Randy's house. It was as if it never had been there. John got one of the new wheelchairs from the trunk and as he wanted to help Randy get into it, the younger man just shook his head… and tried himself. It took him a moment but he managed it on his own and it made John smile to see it. Sam was already waiting at the front door as they reached it and John stopped at the threshold, squatting down beside his friend.
"Okay then, I'm gonna go now," he said softly, settling a hand on Randy's. "Call me and I'll be right there."
He squeezed the younger man's hand lightly and smiled again, receiving a smile in response.
"Thanks, Johnny," Randy replied as softly and then John stepped back, watching Randy disappear in the house, with Sam at his side.
Through the glass of the door he saw as she placed a hand on Randy's shoulder and leaned in… to kiss him and even though it was only a small kiss, John felt a burning pain flare up in his chest. And then he saw Alanna coming from a room which John remembered to be the living room and distantly he heard her crystal-clear voice through the door as she jumped into Randy's arms. And he heard Randy's joyful laughter, saw the expression of complete and perfect happiness on his face as he turned around to Sam, holding Alanna in his arms and Sam was smiling down at him. It was… it was the picture-perfect family.
John felt a choking pressure on his chest as he stepped back from the door and it felt like a foreboding. Maybe he should have stayed, but even then... How could he ever stand a chance against Randy's family? He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows as he tried to fight down the still flaring pain in his chest and after a minute of two he was able to breathe again, to open his eyes. The hall behind the front door was empty but he still heard laughter coming from inside the house. With this sound lingering in his mind he walked back to his car and left.
x
For Randy the following hours where filled with pure happiness and all he was thinking of was Alanna. The carefree time with her made him forget everything around him, all the worries that were weighing down on him and even the fact that he couldn't move his legs was fading into the background.
Randy had to 'drive' her through the house a few times and three times he had to play tea-time with her. And when she demanded from him to play with her in the sand-box, he somehow managed to get out of the wheelchair and into the sand-box without any accidents and for about two hours they were sitting in there, building sandcastles and water-channels. Sam was around all the time, supplying them with food and lemonade and for those hours it was almost like the happy family they had been before the cancer had been diagnosed.
In the late afternoon Alanna was so tired that she fell asleep on Randy's lap and although he wished he could put her to bed, he had to watch Sam do it because Alanna's room was upstairs. He followed them to the bottom of the stairs, watched as Sam disappeared in Alanna's room and after staring a little longer, he made his way back to the living room, where he moved the chair over the door to the patio. Glancing out into the world he sighed happily.
It was a wonderful weather, all sunny and not too warm and the air was as clear as the sky was. Images from the past hours drifted through his mind and he could still hear Alanna's laughter. For those hours he had been back at his old life. His perfect life with a loving wife and a wonderful daughter and no shadows that were casting shadows over all this. And it was what he wanted, going back to that life…
When Randy heard her come back down, he gazed over to her and watched as she took a chair and sat down beside him, a bright smile lighting up her face. He smiled back at her and reached out to take her hand.
"She fell asleep the second she closed her eyes," she said but then the smile dimmed and Randy knew what was about to come. "Randy… what changed you mind?"
Randy kept looking at her for a moment and let his gaze sweep over to room, before he fixed his eyes on the blue sky. He knew she wouldn't like his answer.
"It was Ally," he said eventually. "And John."
Maybe it was the absence of her own name or the mention of the older man's name in his answer that made her smile disappear into thin air, but he wouldn't lie to her.
Her voice was dropping to undercooled as she asked: "Cena? What the hell, Randy? This brazen person dared to stick his nose into our life! And he still does! This goddamn bastard…!"
"Hey, stop it, Sam!" he growled and pulled his hand back, effectively stopping her tirade. "I owe John, big time and I don't want you to speak like that about him! He was there when everyone else gave up on me and he was there when I gave up on me and god knows he had to take a lot of shit, but he didn't let me down. So, just… don't, okay?"
She opened her mouth but no words came over her lips. Instead she stared at Randy, but it didn't take her long to recover from his outburst and gingerly she put a hand on his arm and tried a tiny smile again.
"It's okay, Randy. I understand," she said softly and hesitantly she leaned closer to him, her hand tightening her hold on his arm. "I promise I'm not gonna say a bad word about John again."
And she still leaned closer and closer until her lips where mere inches apart from his and gazing into her eyes he saw the woman he had loved for years in them.
"I still love you, Randy," she whispered and placed her lips on his in a sweet kiss and his lips remembered her kiss, answering it.
It was back… his life…
His arms circled her slim waist and not breaking the kiss, he pulled her onto his lap, pulled her close. Her body felt familiar to his touch and he breathed her scent. This was Sam, his Sam and after all those months he was allowed to hold her again. Finally she broke the kiss, placing tiny pecks on the corners of his mouth. Her smile was back, he noticed, and he had always thought of it as a beautiful smile. It still was, but somehow… something was missing…
"This is your home," she murmured against his lips. "I want you to stay, babe. Your place is here with us. Please."
A small voice in the back of his mind remarked that all the time, even when he had been living in a hotel, this had been his home. And that the only reason he hadn't been here after the diagnosis had been Sam, because she wanted him to go. He heard that voice but he pushed it aside with all his might.
"Okay. Just let me call John, okay?"
He produced his cell from his pocket and after a brief moment of hesitation he called John's number…
x
When John arrived at their meeting point he found Phil already waiting for him and damn him for being the sensitive bastard he was, the very second his eyes fell on John, he knew that something wasn't alright. His eyes softened and a small crooked smile appeared on his face as John walked up to him.
"Randy?" he asked, although it sounded more like a statement.
"Yeah. And no. It wasn't him, it was…" John began, brushing a hand through his face. "It was the picture-perfect family portrait they gave as I dropped him off. Whatever… I guess I should stop worrying."
He sighed and tried a smile. Phil threw an arm around his shoulders and began to steer him deeper into the park.
"Hell yes, you should stop worrying for once and now we're gonna have a nice day off," Phil said decidedly. "You hungry? I found an amazing hot-dog stand and a nice place on the lawn, Sunshine."
John wasn't hungry but he let Phil get them hot-dogs and cokes and not much later he found himself sitting in the middle of the park, on the lawn and the sun shone down on them, the birds were chirping happily and the grass was green and the day was so fucking idyllic that it made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. And if this wasn't enough, Phil knew it and did his best to distract him and because his attempt to lighten his mood wasn't as successful as it was supposed to be, it made John feel guilty.
Phil talked and talked and talked and after a little eternity there was… surprising success. Maybe it was because of the attention Phil was directing at him or maybe it was the lulling warmth of the sun, but at some point John felt his worries fade into the background and he settled back, lying down onto the grass and Phil followed suit. The sky wore a charming blue and little white and soft clouds dotted it here and there. The rays of sunshine falling from it seemed to touch the ground like gentle fingers. For about two hours they kept lying there and between moments of comfortable silence they talked about random things. For those two hours he felt at ease.
Eventually John decided that it was time to get up and to the next store to get what he needed for dinner. A very healthy dinner. It was on their way to the cars and John's cell made itself known and when John saw that it was Randy, he felt the ease vanish in a blink, without having an idea why. It was Randy and he was calling, just like they had agreed. Flipping the cell open he answered the call.
"Hey, Ran," he greeted him, willing the sunny feeling that had filled him for the last two hours into his voice. "How was your afternoon?"
But all he got in response was a heavy sigh that made his heart drop. Absentmindedly he stopped walking and only distantly he felt as someone bumped into him. He didn't even really realize as Phil pulled him out of the way.
He swallowed hard and said: "Randy?"
There was a muttered fuck from the other end of the line. His heart dropped even more.
Then: "I'm not coming back with you, John."
John tried to breath but for an agonizing long moment he couldn't. Heavy dizziness pulled at him and he squatted down. A choked moan escaped his clenched teeth and then he felt Phil's hands on his shoulders, steadying him.
"Why?" he asked as he finally managed to draw a breath again.
Again there was a sigh.
"They are my family," Randy said and John knew it was his fucking right to say it, but…
"So she wants you back, huh?" John pressed out through gritted teeth. "Why so suddenly? All the time she didn't give a shit about you and now? And what if things won't turn out as she wants them to? Kick you out again?"
A moment of cold and tense silence followed and John knew it was his fault because he shouldn't have said it, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them. And they were the bloody truth.
"I don't think I have to explain myself," Randy replied clipped. "My place is at their side, not with you, Cena."
The words unleashed a tearing pain in his chest and with a sob that got stuck to his throat he leaned forward and into Phil's arms, resting his head against the younger man's shoulder.
Please, don't do that, don't leave me. I love you and I can't live without you, goddammit!
The words weighed heavy on his soul and screamed to be spoken aloud…
And summoning all his willpower to keep his voice from breaking he said: "I… I wish you all the best, Randy."
He ended the call. His name was murmured, soothing, and then the cell was taken from his hand. Maybe it shouldn't have been surprising that Randy made that decision. The signs had been pretty clear. And maybe it wasn't but it didn't make it less painful. John bit back the tears which threatened to fall and took a few deep breaths to calm down, because this wasn't the right place to break down and as he looked up to Phil, he saw sadness mirroring in his green eyes and his friend settled a comforting hand on his neck and nodded softly.
"Come on, Sunshine," he whispered. "Let's go home."
Although Phil insisted that John shouldn't drive, he didn't listen to the younger man and said that he needed a while on his own. The way home was a mere blur and he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even pay attention if Phil drove behind him, if he did followed him at all. But Phil did follow him and arrived at John's house only half a minute later than the older man. Without a word John made his way into the house and Phil… followed.
Stepping into the hall, Phil heard John mutter something and frowning he watched as the older man leave the house again and when he came back he was pushing the wheelchair, passing Phil on his way to the stairs. He watched him as he lifted it up and started to climb the stairs and he wondered why John simply hadn't left that thing in the trunk or somewhere down here.
"John? What are you doing?"
"I just want to take this thing to Randy's room," John murmured and made his way upstairs.
Phil heard something else between the lines… I want to take it to Randy's room so I don't have to be reminded of him every time I see this damn wheelchair. Phil waited at the bottom of the stairs until John came back down and he followed him silently as the older man went to the kitchen and helped himself to a beer. And he watched John down that bottle to the half.
"Sunshine…" he sighed but John held his hand up and shook his head, before leaving the kitchen to walk over to the living-room, where he let himself drop heavily onto the couch.
Again Phil followed him, sitting down beside him. And while John somehow wanted to shut out the world and forget, Phil thought about a way to help him. For a minute or two they sat side by side, both staring at the opposite wall and the room was filled with quietness and that quietness was so very awkward that Phil eventually broke it, cursing under his breath as he turned to face his friend who was very busy with emptying the bottle as fast as possible.
"John, drinking isn't a solution," he said gently and reached out to take the beer out of his hand, but John held it out of his reach.
"Not drinking also isn't a solution," John muttered and put the bottle back to his lips, but this time Phil got hold of it and pulled it from John's not very much resisting fingers.
Phil placed the bottle on the table and with a most worried expression spread over his face he scooted closer, settling a tender hand on John's cheek to make him look at him. Gazing into the younger man's asking eyes, John blinked slowly. He felt so damn hurt and lonely and frustrated and he was so sick of it. And he fucking wanted it to stop…
"Tell me, Sunshine, what could make you feel better?" he whispered and… John knew…
"You…" John breathed and wrapped his arms around Phil, pulling in and onto his lap. The body in his arms felt firm yet soft, the warmth engulfing him like a shield. Phil felt so very real. And right now he needed something real…
And while he slowly raised his head, his lips ghosted over the skin of Phil's neck, his jaw, making his friend's breath hitch and when they found Phil's lips it was only a breath that separated them. His hands found their way under Phil's shirt, drawing a small moan from him when his fingers spread over warm skin, smoothing over it and then John closed the gap, placing a pleading kiss on Phil's lips, tentatively running his tongue over them, asking for permission. With another small moan Phil parted his lips, letting him in and his tongue met John's in a slow and lazy dance. Tentatively John rolled his hips a bit, creating a slight friction and Phil pressed down in response. Yes, this was real… and he wanted, needed more. And maybe… maybe he could forget, just for a while… But just as his fingers started to roam Phil's abs, Phil caught his hands, stopping him.
Breaking the kiss, he said hushed: "Sunshine, I don't think that this is a good idea."
Phil was breathing fast and his eyes, though darkened with arousal, were sharp and clear and for a moment John marveled at the self-control he was showing. He knew why Phil stopped him but for the first time today he felt all worries fall off him.
… just for a while…
"I know exactly what I'm doing and I want this," John replied, his voice husky. "I need this… Make me forget, Phil… please…"
Phil's eyes roamed his face and came back to his eyes, questioning, searching and then he closed them for a brief moment and took a deep breath, before looking at John again. And John watched in fascination as those eyes darkened even more…
"Okay," he just replied after a moment of hesitation and then caught John's lips with his own.
The kiss was slow at the beginning, thorough and John couldn't help but run his tongue along Phil's lip piercing, making the other man chuckle lightly. Their tongues met up with each other and John let him take the lead as he explored his mouth and it seemed as if Phil poured his soul into it, as if he wanted to memorize every little detail.
John had no idea when Phil's hands had moved towards the hem of his shirt, but he gasped loudly into their kiss when Phil's nails scratched softly over the skin there, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Using the moment of surprise, Phil removed the offending shirt, his lips only leaving the other man's just long enough to remove it.
The kissing continued for a moment or two before John left Phil's mouth, not without giving the piercing a gentle tug, and began to kiss along his jaw, stopping to nibble at his ear, and continued to trail kisses down his neck, all the while letting his hands roam up and down the other man's back and chest. Phil's mouth opened slightly as his head tilted back and soft moans escaped him.
Then John paused and pushed him away ever so slightly as if he needed some distance to gather his thoughts, but he only reached for the hem of Phil's shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing the tattoos on his chest. Then he let his hand drop to the younger man's hips, holding him in place as he ground up, pressing his by now rock-hard cock against Phil and found a matching hardness.
"Bed," Phil requested, backing away and getting up from the couch.
He held out a hand and John followed his order, his eyes never leaving the Phil's as he was being led upstairs to his bedroom, where Phil shoved him onto the bed and moved to kneel in front of him. For once it seemed that Phil forgot about being the voice of reason, instead giving into the moment. Phil looked at him in a way that made him shiver and again those eyes mesmerized him, the full blown pupils only leaving a thin ring of the well-known green, making Phil eyes seem endlessly deep…
Just then he leaned down, capturing John's mouth in a hard and demanding kiss but after a moment John broke the kiss.
"What do you want me to do, Phil?" he panted.
A strange emotion flash up in Phil's eyes before he leaned close to John's ear and growled: "I want you to fuck me fast and hard, Johnny."
Groaning deep in his throat as Phil's words invaded his mind, as he imagined being buried in him John let his head fall back into the pillow and faintly he heard chuckle darkly and as he glanced back at the younger man, he saw him peel out of his clothes.
"Lose your clothes, Cena," Phil ordered and John obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed on the show Phil offered him.
He'd seen Phil uncountable times in his ring-gear and naked under the shower, but never once he'd noticed how fucking sexy this man was. But now he did notice. His gaze dropped to Phil's already erected cock and felt his own cock twitch in anticipation. When the last piece of clothes fell to the floor Phil leaned back in for another quick kiss, before he began to kiss and nibble his way down the older man's neck to his chest and every here and there he bit down a bit harder, drawing little hisses from John. For a moment or two he nuzzled the muscled chest, feeling the massive pecs move against his face as the broad arms came up, hands roaming his back. With a sharp sigh Phil arched his back into the touch and bit down gently on the soft skin under his lips.
"You wanna stay there all night, Brooks?" John growled and grazed his nails over the younger man's back, feeling him shudder under his touch.
In answer Phil bit down again, this time hard enough to leave a mark and John flinched at the sudden pain, muttering a bastard.
Phil chuckled again as he made his way down the broad chest and worked more kisses down the older man's stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel. The kisses left a tingling in their wake and the bite mark on his chest was burning just painfully enough to be sinful and with every damn kiss and bite he felt himself grow harder and harder. With hooded eyes he watched Phil's lazy movements as he taunted him with his lips and by the time the younger man reached his cock and lifted his head, as his lips ghosted over the swollen flesh, John felt like he was on fire.
With a firm grip Phil closed his fingers around his lover's cock and moved his hand teasingly, once twice, ripping a shuddering moan from John's throat. He saw Phil reach out for the hand lotion which was standing on the bedstand, pouring some of it on his hand, slicking his fingers and he watched as his lover leaned down, lips closing around his cock. John's head tipped back and his fingers clenched into the sheets. A sound that was something between a groan and a sigh fell from his lips as Phil began to bob his head up and down at a leisure pace, sucking, swirling his tongue and he bucked his hips, shoving his aching cock deeper into the hot cavern.
Eventually he managed to lift his head again, gazing down to the younger man who was kneeling between his legs, moving his head up and down in a perfect rhythm and John's eyes widened slightly as he realized that… Phil was preparing himself.
"You're so… fucking hot," he panted, not able to gaze away from that sight.
With another dark chuckle Phil released his lovers cock and held out a hand which John took and with an urging tug Phil he pulled the older man up until he was kneeling on the bed.
Just then he leaned in for a kiss again, whispering harshly: "Your turn, Cena."
Phil positioned himself in front of John, moving like a cat in mid-stretch as he teasingly pressed his backside against his lover's groin, making John's breath hitch and his cock twitch. Then Phil glanced back over his shoulder and what John saw there in the darkened eyes was burning and raw lust. This wasn't the time for lovemaking…
Slowly he slid his hands from Phil's hips to his shoulder, the younger man letting himself being pushed forward a bit… just enough for John to position himself at Phil's entrance… and then his hands smoothed back down to his hips and his fingers dug deeply into the firm flesh…
"Goddamn," John grunted as he pulled him back against him, sliding his entire length into the tight heat and Phil rewarded him with a drawn-out, shuddering groan.
"Do it already, Cena…"
The words were wrapped in a demanding hiss and as John pulled his cock out almost completely and slid back in, Phil pushed back hard, meeting him again and again, until John sped up his thrusts up, pounding into Phil furiously. As he felt Phil tense for a second, accompanied with a choked yeaaah he knew he'd found that very spot and changing the angle of his thrusts he made sure to hit it with every time he drove his aching cock back into that tight heat. John hands held Phil's hips in place, fingers digging deeper and deeper into the flesh, leaving imprints behind and his grip was hard enough to leave bruises. Soon the room was filled with only their groans and panting, with moans and grunts and the violent and rough rhythm of their mating made the body underneath John's touch quake under the force of his thrusts.
"Harder…" he heard Phil pant harshly and he did go harder with every forceful movement of his hips.
To the moans added the pornographic slapping sound of skin against skin. Their bodies were covered with a sheen of sweat and Phil's skin under John's hand felt slick to his touch and glistened in the dim light. It didn't take long until John felt his orgasm building inside him, this new and alien sensation of fucking a man making the sensations rolling through him so much more vivid and overwhelming and those sensations coiled up in his belly, wrapped in flaring heat and he reached down and closed his hand around his lover's neglected and rock-hard cock to pump him in the rhythm of his thrusts. He distantly noticed Phil's growls and grunts become louder, felt him push back even harder, felt him move in his hand faster…
"Gods… John, I'm… I'm gonna…" Phil pressed out in a shuddering moan and then John felt Phil buck his hips and his cock convulse in his hand as he came, felt the tight and hot walls around his cock clench and that feeling uncoiled the heat in John's belly and with a few violent thrusts he set a crushing wave pure pleasure free, rolling through him, hitting him hard enough to make him see stars as he came.
The shout falling from his lips was guttural, lacing into Phil's curses and groans and lost in the sensation he bucked his hips a few more times. Through the lingering haze of his orgasm he felt as Phil's arms and knees gave out and because John had no strength left to hold them both up, he lowered himself down onto the bed, half lying on his lover. There was a soft hiss as he pulled out of him.
John wrapped an arm around Phil's waist and pulled him tightly against his chest, receiving a content sigh from him. For a minute or two they just lay there, riding the waves of the aftermath as they tried to catch their breaths. It was a low chuckle, coming from Phil, that broke the silence.
"That was fast, Sunshine," he said, amusement lacing his voice.
John hummed.
"Mmh… 's your fault, you're just too damn hot," John muttered.
Turning around in John's embrace he faced him, stealing a kiss.
"Can live with that," he whispered against the older man's lips.
Phil gazed into those satiated and glazed baby blues and they were hooded, almost sleepy, but a happy and content expression lay in them, a sparkling that was drawing the younger man in.
"I'm glad that you're here, Phil," John whispered, slowly drifting off.
And Phil stole another kiss before he whispered: "Close your eyes and let go, Sunshine. It'll be alright."
Exhaustion caught up with John and it was strong enough to pull him down into oblivion, to make him forget. The last thing he knew was arms that were holding him and his name being whispered, so infinitely tender…
x
Randy stared up at the ceiling. It was something he'd done uncountable times in the past, staring at this very ceiling. It was familiar, as familiar as the room was and the bed he was lying in. As familiar as the presence beside him. Her body in his arm, how she pressed up against him, the sound of her breathing and her scent, all of it was familiar. Only… that it wasn't. Blinking slowly, he watched the patterns of moonlight and shadows on the ceiling, some immobile, some creeping slowly over it.
It was ridiculous. He wasn't alone. He was… home. This was his house and his daughter was sleeping peacefully upstairs and he would see her tomorrow morning, would see her as often as he wanted and he was lying here with his wife in his arms and it was what he had wanted all the fucking time, being back home with them, having his life back. And now?
There was nothing.
When he had called John he'd been convinced that he was doing the right thing. And it had been the right thing, right? It was, so why did it feel so bloody wrong? He'd noticed it the very second he'd told John that he wouldn't come back with him, or rather the very second John had said… nothing. And he had become painfully aware that it had been a mistake when John wished him all the best, his usually strong and warm voice breaking at the words.
Hollow. He felt so damn hollow…
Randy's mind was whirling. I four… no, three days he would go back to the hospital for the surgery and Sam would be at his side, would be there after the surgery and after he was allowed to leave the hospital again, he would go home with her. And he would live… her life. In her house, because that's how it was, wasn't it? It was her house and her life.
A week ago she hadn't even been willing to allow him to see his own daughter and now she was making plans for a new future together. A future that was only existent because… John had fought so hard. Because he had fought so hard for Randy, even as he'd pushed the older man away as hard as he even could and John had taken every hard word, every insult and every damn blow and he still came back. And he had stopped Randy's fall and pulled him back up into the light, shielding him from the lingering darkness. His friend had given him a chance to live… and… peace, hope and confidence, joy and comfort, warmth, trust, he had made him feel safe and understood and… so much more. It all… he… had given him the strength and the will to stand up to the cancer…
Love.
That one word came back to him. Love. His heart had lurched in his chest as John said it to him, that he loved him. It was what friends did, love each other, even say it and because it was like that, Randy could admit that he loved John, too. It was a new kind of love, different from all he'd felt before. This kind of love was bright and deep and overwhelming in its intensity… and it was addictive. As addictive as John himself. And Randy knew that if he closed his eyes now and just tried hard enough, he would even feel John's touch and he would see those mesmerizing blue eyes and… the promise of a happy future lying in their depths.
Randy's nostrils flared as the vivid memory of John's scent invaded his mind. The older man's name fell from his lips. A whisper. A realization.
And Randy opened his eyes which he hadn't even noticed being closed, and sat up, pulling his arm out from under Sam with a jerk and with a startled yelp she woke up. Randy kept sitting in the bed, eyes fixed on the opposite wall as his mind began to race and he only noticed Sam as she put a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of his thoughts. His head snapped around to her and he blinked once, slowly.
Various expressions crossed her face as she gazed at him, but it was worry he saw shining in her eyes as she asked: "Randy, good god, what's wrong?"
A single laughter escaped his throat, a laughter that was lacking mirth, that was carrying heavy self-reproach instead.
"I was so goddamn blind," he whispered barely audible.
"What are you talking about?" she asked confused. "Will you finally talk to me? Randy!"
He blinked again and narrowed his eyes a bit as he said: "This isn't working, Sam."
Her confusion grew visibly, before it morphed to cold knowing and she began to shake her head in denial.
"No. No-no, don't say that," she replied, slight panic lacing into her voice. "Don't say that, Randy. We can make it work, we…"
She tried to pull him into an embrace but he stopped her, gently pushing her away.
"No, Sam. I… I shouldn't have stayed here in the first place," he muttered as he shifted and climbed over and onto the wheelchair. "I'm gonna go back to John."
Quickly she crawled over to him and reached out, holding onto his shirt.
"To… to John?" she hissed in a fit of disbelieve. "You can't be serious! John is…!"
"Sam, don't!" he snapped and she drew her hand back at his sudden outburst. Much softer he continued: "I want to go back to him. I'm sorry."
With that he left the room without looking back at her and moved the wheelchair over to the living-room, where he'd left his cell. It was in the middle of the night and he knew he'd hurt John, really hurt him and he also knew he could be happy if John would listen to him. He hoped he would. Because he had no idea what he would do if John wouldn't allow him to come back… home…