Chapter 8
Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry it was a while too! Will try not to leave it that late again!
To the reviewer who wants to see more Sheamus - I hear you, don't worry :) I need a new slash partner for him though because he's not a mug and certanly won't go back to DB now the little schnauzer is married.
It looked like Randy thought his troubles with Zack are over...uh-uh.
It was a week removed from Wrestlemania.
Randy Orton was changing in the locker room. He'd known this was coming. The reformation of Evolution. Which wouldn't be so bad but Dave Batista seemed to keep touching him. He knew he asked for it after the post-Wrestlemania drinks where he wiggled his ass in the Animal's face...but...not like it was any secret at all that he was John's. And John's alone.
He'd turned the Animal down years ago. Why couldn't he get the message?
The door opened and Randy quickly pulled his joggers up..but not quick enough.
"Hot date with Cena Randalyn?" came Cody's teasing voice.
"Dunno what you're talking about," Randy mumbled.
"Assless Andrews," Cody stated.
"Oh...yeah," Randy said and he flashed the cheeky grin, "Why arent you at the hotel getting laid?"
"Movie night." Cody said, "Randalyn, I thought you knew me better than that. I'm not just about sex all day every day."
"Could have fooled me," teased Randy.
"I'm just theatrical," Cody said.
"Wait is that another ring?!" demanded Randy, spotting the second ring on Cody's finger.
"No," Cody said, and his blue eyes crinkled, "Just one of Joshy's...I can at least pretend I'm married to him."
"Why did you marry Brandi?" asked Randy.
"Protect Joshy...and myself," admitted Cody, "Selfish I know...she's getting really frustrated with being a beard. She put me on total blast last night because I've never been wih a girl. She keeps asking me how I'm so sure I don't like girls if I've never tried."
Randy exhaled.
He'd sort of been there. But Alanna was the result and he wouldnt change that for anything in the world.
"I dunno," he said, "Maybe you should talk to Josh...but...wait..don't go. Something I want to ask you."
"What?"
"Dave BAtista. I need you to spill the tea on him."
Cody went scarlet.
"Why?" he said, folding his arms.
"I think he wants to smash me," Randy said simply.
"Now you've noticed," Cody said, "His eyes and hands are all over you. Why do you ask? Tempted?"
"No!" snapped Randy.
"Well," Cody said, "I was only 22 when he fucked me. I was the skankiest twink hoe you'd ever meet. I could take two tops in a night and still be hungry sometimes. He wrecked me. Every position. All night."
"Didn't need to be so graphic," Randy grumbled.
"You said spill the tea, so I did," Cody said, "He can rim for fucking days. Talks dirty and likes you to talk dirty back. Power top. Won't stop till he blows his load. Made me cum twice...no...three times. And he goes all night. But...that was before I met Teddy. And then Joshy...Joshy is bigger down there than Dave."
Randy nodded. He had to admit, one thing he took from the night he and John gave Josh a two-for-one special, that the little man packed a surprsing amount of heat, especially for his height and build.
"Course," Cody said, a slight scowl, "You've seen it. I forgot."
"Codes..."
"I don't want to discuss that. EVER!" snapped Cody.
"Not proud of that," Randy said.
Cody covered his ears.
"NA! NA! NA! NAAA!" he said, "No Randal. I don't want to know!"
He looked really hurt and angry. Randy knew that this would always be a sore point.
"Sorry," he said, "So basically, Batista thinks he';s amazing in bed but is average..."
"Basically," Cody said curtly, "Good with his tongue though. Look at his hitlist. He got a lot of pussy on the roster. Said I was the tightest one he'd had."
"OK that's enough," Randy said, pulling his jacket on.
"You said tell you everything," Cody said, "Keep your back to the wall around him Randalyn. All I'll say."
"I intend to," Randy said, "Laters."
"See ya."
Randy picked up his bag and began to walk to the tour bus. However his path was immediately blocked by a sneering, smirking Zack Ryder.
His blue eyes narrowed and a fierce snarl formed on his lips.
"Get out my fucking way," he rasped.
"So, Dave BAtista, huh?" sneered Zack, "Whatever would John say? And you call ME the slut?"
"You're lucky you're still using both those fucking legs," snarled Randy, "Get the fuck out my way. NOW."
Zack took his phone out, opening a text to John.
To: Cena
hiii John : D . Just heard Orton asking for deets on Big Dave's goods. Looks like he's bored of you : P Fancy some company with a younger, hotter model? XD xxxxxx
Zack just smirked.
"Oops, can't keep my mouth shut," he said, "Looks like John Boy won't want you."
"Grow the fuck up," Randy said, "And you can text him all you like. He won't want you."
"Don't have to text him," smirked Zack, "I have him on WhatsApp...Kik..."
"Yeah whatever, nice try," Randy said, pushing roughly past Zack, easily overpowering him and making sure to hit him with his sports bag.
Zack just gave the retreating back a smirk. As soon as Randy was out of sight, Zack took a final look around the locker room to make sure he was most definitely alone.
His phone buzzed.
From: Cena.
Knock it off. Just remember who you're dealing with.
Zack was not going to ignored.
He pulled his sweatpants down along with his underwear. Mmm. Felt good to be naked in the locker room. He remembered wandering around naked at work when it was him and John. As things should be. He remembered sex on John's tourbus.
Now he was hard.
He lay on the cold tiled floor, pushing his bare ass up.
He took a selfie, tongue out, looking as slutty as you like.
He sent it to John.
To: Cena
C'mon John. I'm alone and waiting. Come and wreck me like you used to : P
Even if John ignored it...his semi-nude was now on John's phone. And he could always re-send. And now Zack was horny. Painfully horny. He really needed to be fucked.
From: Cena.
Pull shit like that again and your pink slip will be in the mail.
Looks like it was plan B.
Zack couldn't get back to the rental in this state. He was aching for relief. He reluctantly redressed and made his way back anyway. Soon as he was holed up in that hotel...He drove through a red light in his rush to find privacy.
Finally he was in the hotel room.
He tore off all his clothes and lay on the annyoingly empty bed. His hardon was leaking precum all over his toned abs and hiplines. He wriggled over and fumbled in his suitcase. Yes. Thank fuck he'd brought it. Yeah, he had to make do with a dildo. Nobody else on the roster interested him right now. And not even an anonymous hookup on Grindr either. Besides, calling out 'John' during sex with someone whose name he didnt really know usually killed the mood.
Zack began to apply lubricant to his entrance and the toy before spreading his slim, smooth legs and inserting into himself, moaning loudly.
"OHH JOHNNN!" he whined, his legs raised, his mind working overtime.
He never lasted long when he used this on himself.
He did manage to steal John's hat tonight though. He pulled it from his sports bag and inhaled perversely. Mmmmmm. Next time he was going to try and steal the tee.
He sniffed the hat again before placing it on his own head.
He needed more action.
He kneeled up and lowered himself down onto the toy instead, actually crying out this time.
He began to fuck himself.
Hard.
He'd been so used to self-loving that he could make himself cum without jerking his dick.
He writhed and snapped his hips, running his hands over his muscular body, his hardon throbbing.
"Oh John...Johnny...John...fuck me yes...yes...just there...OHHHH JOHNNN!"
He didn't care who heard him. Or how truly undignified this was.
"Pull my hair John...call me your broski John...oh yes John..."
It was almost funny but yet so sad. Anyone who walked in on this. Zack losing himself, truly away on another planet. Imagining he was having sex with the top guy.
"Ohhh JOHN! YES! Nobody fucks me like you can!"
A cacophony of mewls and small screams left Zack's throat as his orgasm rocketed closer.
"Ohhh JOHN! I'm gonna...fuck John...fuck..."
Zack opened his mouth and bellowed the man in question's full name at the ceiling as semen sprayed all over his abs and the duvet under him.
Back in John;s tourbus, John was trying to calm an enraged Randy down.
"I keep everyone on the roster's number," he tried to explain, "Vince tells me to!"
"WHY HIS?!" roared Randy, "YOU SAID YOU BLOCKED HIM!"
"I never said," corrected John, "I just said I don't respond and you assumed I meant blocked."
"THAT MEANS HE CAN FUCKING SPAM YOU WITH DIRTY ASS NUDES!" yelled Randy, lobbing an empty beer bottle at him which smashed against the wall, "AND THEN YOU'LL WANT TO FUCK HIM AGAIN! ADMIT IT JOHN! YOU STILL WANT HIM!"
"Jesus Randall, how many times! The more you react, the more he'll keep giving both of us all this shit. I thought you were better than that!"
"WELL SORRY I'M NOT! SORRY FOR CARING ABOUT LOSING YOU COS YOU OBVIOUSLY COULDN'T GIVE TWO FUCKS!"
SMASH!
Another beer bottle.
And another.
Randy was really on one tonight.
John knew the best way to deal with one of Randy's tantrums was to literally not react. Eventually it'll fizzle out. He was so glad Alanna wasn't here to see her Daddy acting like this.
Randy was magenta in the face and his chest was heaving in and out.
He picked up his phone.
"I'm fucking going out," he snarled, "DRIVER! STOP THIS FUCKING BUS NOW!"
John just sighed.
"Where you gonna go?" he asked.
Randy tapped a text to Dave Batista.
Hey man, fancy some beers and talk about the old days? : )
Batista replied almost instantly.
From: Dave B
You bringing Cena with you? ; )
Randy got an evil smirk going.
To: Dave B
Nope. Just us. Evolution boys ; )
And Batista in his primal mind had taken this to be the green light he'd been waiting for.
From: Dave B
Awesome. How far from the hotel are you? :; )
Randy looked out the windscreen of the bus.
About ten minutes.
He snarled the name of the hotel to the driver.
He swaggered back into the bedroom area.
"Meeting Dave for beers," he said curtly, "Might see you in the morning."
John felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck. No John, don't react. He could always tell when Randy was trying to bait him into getting pissed off. He wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.
"Fine," he said shrugging.
He could see the vein throb furiously in Randy's temple as the younger man bit his lip hard, obviously even angrier that John didn't care. John knew Randy would be back. The door of the bus hissed open and Randy stomped off.
"Mr Cena, sir..." the driver began.
"Park up," John ordered.
Randy stomped into the hotel bar, searching for Batista. Not that the big man was hard to find. Randy hitched his jeans up so they were wedged up his ass and swaggered across to his stable partner.
"Hey," he rumbled.
"Oh hey man," Batista said, leering at him in the tight t-shrit he was sporting, "You're lookin' fly."
"So do you," Randy said, "And you already got me a beer in. Good man."
He slapped Batista on the back and made sure to perch on the stool RIGHT next to him.
Batista was licking his lips with glee. He knew Randy couldn't resist him forever. OK the kid was hotter 10 years ago but who wouldn't kick Orton out of bed? And Dave bet that Orton still could go all night. He couldn't wait to tap that copper ass.
"Oh hey Randy," came a surprised Sheamus' voice, "Thought you';d be well away."
"Fancied some beers, nothing wrong with that is there?" Randy rumbled coolly, biting his tongue to swallow the mean diatribe regarding Daniel's nuptials that he SO wanted to lob at Sheamus.
"Only asked," Sheamus said shrugging, "No John?"
"John who?" Randy said, shooting Batista his mischeivous smirk before swigging his beer, his piercing eyes not leaving the elder man's, taunting him.
Sheamus observed this curiously. Nah, must be a trick of the light.
Batista shot Randy the sleaziest smirk in response.
What a fucking cock tease.
Orton KNEW how hot he was.
He KNEW he could get cocks hard and pussies wet all around every room he was in.
And Dave was going to make him pay later.
He was going to make that tattooed little slut BEG for mercy.
Just like he made his former stooge Rhodes do so six years ago. That was some good ass pussy he had that night. Made him realise men made shit-hot lays. Especially younger ones. Randy might be 34 now but he still knew all the tricks in Dave's eyes.
"So Randy, when is this party?" asked Sheamus, "Your birthday was 2 weeks ago now and you've not mentioned anything about whenever it's supposed to be."
"Oh yeah, silly me," Randy chuckled, "How does tomorrow night sound? Pass it on."
"Tell me it's not still fancy dress," Sheamus said.
"Nope, just show up," Randy said, shrugging and downing his beer.
"Looked like you needed that kid," mumbled Dave.
"Oh yeah, I'm thirsty tonight," Randy said, flashing another smirk at Dave, deliberately emphasising the word. He knew he'd regret this, and John was most probably telling the truth about Zack. But he was still so mad at John for not blocking that whore's number...
"Best get you filled then hadn't we?" leered Dave.
"Oh yeah, a refill would be just awesome, man," rumbled Randy, leaning over the bar, pushing his jean-clad butt right out and asking for two more beers.
Dave was using every last fibre of self-control to not spank that ass right there in the bar. Mmm. He'd been wanting to pound that since the very first night he, Randy, Flair and Hunter debuted the EVolution stable a decade ago. Randy was a hot young slut then too. COcky but annoyingly monogamously devoted to fucking Cena.
Sheamus knew he was not imagining this now. Yuck.
Randy really was a slut! He wondered if the Viper had been carrying on like this behind John's back for years and just never told him. Look at him...bending over the bar, shaking his arse for Batista in front of all and bloody sundry...first Bryan, now Dave.
He threw his empty pint glass onto the bar and stormed off to the toilets to go for a slash.
"Alright mate," Wade said, already at the urinals as Sheamus stood at the end one.
"No I'm not," Sheamus said, "Randy Orton is a dirty slag."
"Don't let Cena hear or you'll be jobbing," Wade reminded him.
"You haven't seen him! He's practically giving Batista a fecking lap dance out there," Sheamus spat.
"Most of the lads here are bigger slags than the girls," Wade said, zipping up, "Look at the way Miz took me for a ride."
"Oh yeah, forgot that," Sheamus said, "I really thought men were easier than women to go out with. None of the worrying if you;'ve pissed them off stuff, time of the month etctetera."
"Maybe we go for the wrong sort," Wade said, "Back home I used to go for rough lads...manly men...ruggers, tradesmen. Preston was full of 'em. If you avoid Canal Street and all the bloody puffs."
"Did you?" smirked Sheamus, washing his hands.
"Yeah, less emotional shit," Wade replied.
Sheamus grinned some more. Hmmmmmmm.
"Fancy another pint or are ya done for the night?" he asked.
"What do you take me for, and it's your bloody round," Wade smirked.
The two Brits (well Irishman and Englishman) headed back to the bar, seeds of thoughts sporuting in both their heads.
Randy was on his third beer. He was necking the stuff like it was soda tonight. Determined to not think about the possibility that John still wanted a piece of Zack despite so much evidence to the contrary. One of Randy's biggest downfalls was if he'd gotten an idea in his head even if it was wrong, he stubbornly stuck to it until it blew up in his face. And then he'd have a lot of making up to do.
"I'm going to take a piss," Dave said, "Not as young as I was in the early days. Be back in five, man."
"I'll be here," Randy grinned.
As Dave left, his seat was almost instantly filled by Mike. Who looked unusually pissed off.
"Double vodka no ice" he said, "Oh...hi Randy."
"Surprised you're not riding Cesaro..or Lesnar," Randy snorted.
"Very funny," snapped Mike, "I didn;t bed Brock. I was just drunk. That's all. I know yoiu think what me and CLaudio have is a joke.."
"Did I say that?" Randy said.
"You implied it."
Mike knocked the double vodka back in one gulp, hissing as it burned.
"Trouble in paradise?" asked Randy.
"Claudio doesn't trust me," Mike said, "He checks my phone...checks my wallet...even asks me to empty my pockets."
"Can you blame him?" asked Randy...yes he was aware that he was being a total hypocrite.
"No, I'm just...flirty when I'm drunk," Mike said, "Claudio doesn't know how amazing he is."
"Spill the tea," Randy said.
"He's eight inches," Mike said, "He loves making me happy...he's such a gentleman...treated me so nicely. Understands me. He gets me."
"Love how the first thing was his dick size," scoffed Randy, "Clearly that's your number one priority. You're jsut like Codes."
"Maybe I am a size queen, probably why we get on so well, Coddles and me, that is," Mike said, "I love Claudio...but...I don';t know if I am fully ready to commit totally...ugh I hate it. Brock's so hot...and I can;t the image of how awesome a hug from those huge arms after a pounding would be out of my head."
Randy's subconscious was nagging him to wake the fuck up and realise trying to bed Batista would be the worst mistake of his life.
"What would it solve?" he asked.
"I'd have amazing sex...Randy I feel sorry for Brock. Nobody bothers their ass talking to him. Only Claudio has. I think. You were here when he was the first time."
"Doesn't mean I was beer buddies with him," shrugged Randy, "You can't have both him and Cesaro."
"Claudio and I haven't had sex since Mania," MIke confessed, "He says he can't get in the mood now he knew I was after Brock. I still need love Randy."
"You're a freaking sex addict," remarked Randy, "THere's a difference."
"Alright for you, Mr Lean Bronzed God, you could have ANYONE in this fucking room!" Mike spat, "When you're a fat fuck like me, you have to be thankful for all you can get!"
He ordered another double vodka.
ANd downed it.
"You're not fat," Randy said, "I;'m insecure too Mike. I'm not the perfect guy you think I am."
"Oh really? Randy Orton insecure? And for your next trick you're gonna pull a rabbit out of Mark Henry's sweaty ass!"
"You don't have to believe me," Randy said, shaking his head, "But I'm gonna say this. You say you're a flirt when you're busted? Why the fuck are you dropping double vodkas?"
"Because I'm lonely and need some attention!" Mike whined, "Ohh...look...Jakey. He';s on his own."
"What the..?"
But Mike was already walking, almost running to Swagger, his suit jacket flapping as he went.
Jack was just checking his phone as he sat down with his beer when he felt someone flop down right next to him.
"HII!" Mike beamed, the vodka starting to kick in already. He'd not eaten since before Raw, and even though he was not on it, he was still gonna be there, cos of course they might need for media shit, blah blah.
"Oh hey Mike," Jack said, "No Cesaro?"
"Let's not talk about him," grinned the Ohio native, "Let's talk about us Jakey, your hair is looking FINE AS nowadays...Biff."
"Quit that," Jack sighed, "You're in a relationship, I'm married."
"I miss you Jakey," pouted Mike.
"Take it Lesnar was a disappointment," snarked Jack.
Mike went scarlet.
WHO ELSE KNEW?!
"How...did you know?" he spluttered.
"Rollins told me during the week," Jack said, "It's been round the whole male locker room, Mike. That's not a good look you know."
"Asshole. I thought you got me, Jakey."
"What do you want from me, huh? You can't have me, you're seeing 'Tonio which I was cool with and shit, now you're acting like you want me again yet you go chasing fucking Lesnar?"
"I like men," Mike said, "Even if men don't like me. So what's Cat got that I don't? IS IT COS SHE'S THINNER THAN ME?!"
"Voice down," Jack spat, "I don't have to explain my marriage to you!"
Mike was now well on the way to being wasted. Four vodkas downed in rapid succession on a relatively empty stomach. Not good news. When he was drunk. He was HORNY. Hence Brockgate at Mania last week.
"C'mon Jakey, we were great together," Mike wheedled, boldy reaching under the table and stroking Jack's crotch.
"GET OFF ME!" snapped Jack, springing to his feet.
"What? You never used to say no to me!" Mike persisted.
"I'm saying NO now," Jack said, "FOr fuck's sake go and talk to Cesaro. Just go and say fucking sorry! Christ...I knew messing with you would come back to haunt me."
"That all I was?!" screeched Mike, now causing a few people to turn and look at them, "Just ';messing?!'"
"Yeah you were. Now take a fucking hike and leave me the fuck alone," snarled Jack.
SMACK!
Mike slapped him hard around the face.
"BASTARD!" he yelled, "ALL IT TAKES IS ONE CALL AND I'll TELL CAT EVERYTHING!"
"You wouldn't?" growled Jack.
"Watch me!"
Jack knew he was in deep, deep shit.
Mike;'s big blue eyes were filled with tears and he was hugging himself. That really all he was to the blonde? Just 'messing about'? OK he was carrying on with Wade and Cesaro as well at the time but...that hurt. It hurt a lot. The fight was leaving him.
But not totally.
He spat viciously in Jack's face before turning and storming out of the bar.
Mike ran through the hotel, and up the stairs before collapsing against the wall, sobbing. He felt used. And dirty. But he knew he deserved it with his slutty ways. He had had Jack, Cesaro AND Wade at his beck and call for weeks and months before supposedly settling down. Randy was right. He didn't know a good thing he had when he did have it.
"Hey man, what's up?" came a voice.
"Oh hi Nicky," sniffled Mike, "Just man trouble."
"Aww that's shit," Dolph said, "Wanna talk about it?"
He sat next to his friend. On camera he really did look like he hated Mike or looked down on him but they were still good friends. Dolph wasn't Mike';s type so he knew he was safe.
"DOn't wanna bore you...I'm drunk," Mike said, "Jake Hager is an asshole."
"I did try and tell you that you'd get hurt by sleeping with him," Dolph said, "Why you even caring about him anyway? Thought you had something cool with Cesaro."
"I fucked that up as well didn't i?" sniffed Mike, "Going after Brock last week after Mania..."
"You idiot!" Dolph said, "Jesus...you should fucking calm down!"
"I was drunk...you know me Nicky...I'm anybody's," Mike said.
"You're just making excuses," Dolph said, "Stop opening your legs for anything with 24 inch pythons.."
"Hogan's still got it...I'd let him in," Mike said.
"Oh my fucking GOD, listen to yourself!" Dolph cried, "Just get your ass up to Cesaro and suck up to him! What's so bad about that?"
"I'm scared Nicky," confessed Mike, "I don't want to commit to him and have him leave me for some hot blonde with big tits."
"SOmeone who looks like Maryse...jesus Dude you have it all!" Dolph said, "The hot blonde trophy wife at home, the big hunky guy at work...some people are just never satisfied!"
"OK for you Nicky, you're not fat!" Mike hit back.
"Oh not that again! How many times..."
"Says the guy who's so fucking lean and perfect...and used to call me Big Fat Miz all the time!" snapped Mike.
"Part of my gimmick," Dolph said.
Mike had already got to his feet.
"Man I'm sorry..." Dolph began but Mike was stomping up the stairs.
John was sat on his bus, watching a Steven Seagal movie, one he'd seen a million times before. He wasn't concentrating much, just needed to take his mind off his row with Randy. He'd deleted all of Zack's messages. He wanted to block Zack but he knew he had to set an example and be a good company face.
Oh it was no fucking use.
He turned the movie off.
He was going to try and turn in.
Not that he could sleep, mind going over what Randy must be up to in that bar.
He was SURE Randy would come back.
But was he really?
Randy had been really fucked off at him. That was the most blazing temper Randy had had in a while.
A knocking sounded athe front of the bus.
Oh thank God.
John almost sprinted to the foor and pushed the button to open it.
His heart sank.
No Randy.
"Hi John!" beamed Zack. He wobbled a little. He'd downed some whiskey in the hotel room and inhaled a lot of poppers.
"Go away," John said.
Zack pouted.
"That's not very nice is it?" he said.
"Movie night with Randy, so please leave," John said.
Zack sneered.
"Nice try John," he said, "I know your plastic girlfriend isn't here. Justin told me that she was in the bar."
"Randy is a fucking man, and you know it," John growled, "Now. I've asked twice and won't ask again. Get off my tour bus."
"Justin;s told me everything, your permanently PMSed girlfriend is cosying up to Dave Batista in the hotel bar and being all chummy with Sheamus," Zack said, "Come on John...I just want to talk."
John sighed.
"Fine."
Zack beamed frome ar to ear and stepped onto the bus...oh the memories flooded back. Being taken in every room on this huge plush vehicle. Cuddling up watching the rain-soaked freeways shoot by...
He staggered past John.
John reeled back. The kid reeked of alchol. Oh fucking GREAT.
But he was prepared to call security if needs be if Zack even TRIED anything.
He reluctantly padded towards the bedroom.
Zack was now laying on the bed, his WWE-issue tracksuit now on the floor and in just a pair of tiny 2Exist briefs. Black with a silver waistband. Ones John had bought him as a present back in their fling.
"What are you doing?" he barked.
"It's warm in here," Zack said, "Like them John? They still fit me."
"Put your clothes back on this minute," ordered John.
"You're so highly strung John," cooed Zack, opening his legs, "WHen we were together you were so much more relaxed. Randy's ageing you. I never gave you that kind of stress, John. I loved you."
"Stop this shit," snarled John, "Say whatever you want to say and then get the hell off this bus."
"You'd throw little me out into the night John?" Zack said, now rolling over onto his stomach, brief-clad ass up, every curve of his pert cheeks visible through the black fabric, "You helped me out with my injuries.."
"Put your fucking clothes on," John growled again.
"These panties look sooo good on me John...you always knew what to buy me," Zack went on, "THis bed's still as soft as I remember...when you used to fuck me on it...when you held me and we watched America go past the window on the road..."
"You're fucking wasted," John said, "You're making a complete dick of yourself."
"Come on John, we're adults," Zack whimpered, "Please...I need you John! I've never been right since you left me. You were the best I've ever had!"
"Stop it."
"Our last time together...I never wanted to end," Zack went on, pushing his ass up a bit more, "I cried when you made love to me. You kissed me and held me John. You PROMISED YOU'D LOOK AFTER ME!"
"Get out," John snapped.
"No. Make me."
"I'll fucking throw your desperate ass out into the street! Ass naked if I have to!"
"I loved it when you threw me around John, so grrrrrr...such a man."
"Get the fuck out! If Randy comes back...they won't be finding all your body parts!"
Zack got to his feet and stood right in John's personal space. He reached around John's neck. His breath REEKED of whiskey and John nearly retched.
"John...Johnny..." Zack murmured, "I've gone mad without you...you don';t know what it felt like...to have it all...and to lose it all so fast. I've barely had sex since we finished...no man could compare to you."
"Whatever, you drowned your sorrows on Grindr like every other sad case," John said.
"Even Curt offered to screw me out of pity," Zack said, "He said he was up for it cos his balls were blue. I turned him down John. Because I knew...I just knew you'd come back to me. Please John. I'm pre-lubed and ready. I just need you."
"You're a wreck...you need help," John said, backing away.
Zack was getting desperate. This wasn;t how it seemed inside his head! As soon as Justin had informed him (and sent pictorial proof via snapchat) that Randy was indeed in the bar and sans John...and that John's bus was parked outside...Zack thought that finally his dreams had come true. But no. John wasn't playing ball!
Zack was desperate. He ripped his briefs off so he was stark naked.
He bent over in front of John, rubbing his ass against John's sweatpant-covered crotch.
"Johnn...please...I want you so bad...it hurts me.." he whined.
"Get your fucking clothes on and get the fuck off this bus. I won't tell you again, Cardona!" snarled John.
"Oh yes! Be rough Johnny! Go Thuganomics on me!" whined Zack, "SPANK ME! I'M A BAD BOY!"
John had never been put in a more perilous situation. If he threw Zack naked out into the parking lot, someone would see and then ask questions..the kid was so fucking drunk he'd blab it all to Hunter or worse, TMZ and then John was finished. But if John did what Zack craved...he'd lose Randy for good but keep his career.
What the fuck was he supposed to do?
Zack was no turnon like this. John felt sorry for the kid. Even though this was his fault. He had no idea Zack was such a bunny boiler.
Mike was stood outside his and Cesaro's hotel room door. He knocked pitiously, having stormed out to the bar without his room key card.
"Claudio..."
The door flew open.
"Oh you're back, thought you'd be in Lesnar's bed!" scoffed Cesaro.
"Please Claudio..."
"Oh now you want me," Cesaro said, "Suppose I better let you back in."
He ushered Mike inside and closed the door.
"Claudio..."
Mike broke down in full sobs now. Immediately the gentlemanly and chivalrous nature of the Swiss overtook his petty anger at his man and he went and hugged the Ohio native tight.
"Hey..hey...none of that," he said, "Don't cry."
"You hate me.."
"No i don't, I hate what you did on Sunday but I don't hate you...Mike...Michel...I love you...je t'adore...ich liebe dich..."
That was literally all Mike needed. Cesaro to pull his head out his ass and tell Mike he loved him.
"Oh Claudio.."
He planted a huge fat kiss on the Swiss's lips.
"Let's draw a line under this," Cesaro said, "And we agree you just watch how much you drink in future?"
"I...had...four vodkas downstairs," Mike confessed, "I was mad at you Claudio...and I made an ass of myself..."
"What did you do now?" sighed Cesaro, sitting on the bed, not wanting to hear this.
"Gave Jakey a piece of my mind," Mike said, "I hate him Claudio. He used me. I don't want him. Not now not ever."
THat was so cathartic. And a real relief to Mike.
He'd seen Jack';s true colors as far as he was concerned down there. He wasn't going to tell Jack's wife. She was welcome to his love rat ass. Brock...that itch will need to be scratched in the future but right now Mike was putting it to the back of his mind. Maybe the voddy hadn't fully kicked in yet.
"That's..good...I guess," Cesaro said, "No more flirting? Are you in this for real or just my wallet?"
"CLaudio!" Mike said reproachfully.
"You put a grand on my credit card so you could woo the Beast," Cesaro said, "I can't forget that."
"I'll pay you back...Claudio...my...darling...I'm rich too..." Mike pleaded.
"It's not the money, I'm not an asshole," Cesaro said, though his softie side melted at what Mike called him, "The principle. You used me to get kicks. I need time to get over that."
"You're...you're gonna leave me aren't you?"
"No...I just told you, I'm not an asshole," Cesaro stated, "But you can't expect me to brush something like that under the carpet. One thousand dollars, Mike. That's the monthly paycheck for many of our fans who pay for tickets to keep us employed."
"I know," sighed Mike, "I was stupid...CLaudio...I'm sorry. I love you."
"Love you too."
"Show me Claudio," Mike whimpered, his suited arms around Cesaro's neck, "Please. I've missed you these past 10 days..."
"It hasn't been 10 days since we.."
"Feels like 10 years Claudio, Mania day was a long time ago...you didn't even hold me when I mourned the loss of Warrior."
"I was just as devastated as you..." Cesaro said.
Mike was kissing his neck.
"CLaudio.." he whimpered, "My man...mon amour.."
He lay back on the bed, pulling the big Swiss man ontop of him, pecking his lips.
"Love...you..*kiss*...love..*kiss*...my Claudio...*kiss*."
Cesaro could somehow tell that he wasn't buttering him up to get a fuck. Something in those blue eyes meant every word. He sighed and relented, ushering Mike around so they were properly on the bed.
He pulled Mike up and began to softly peck his lips, gently loosening Mike's tie and pulling it off, before starting to unbutton Mike's expensive Prada shirt. When all the buttons were undone Cesaro placed his large hands atop Mike's curvy pectorals, massaging them softly...Mike whimpered in pleasure. He wouldn't tell ANYONE this but he liked this a lot. He was normally self conscious about his chest, seeing people online saying he had "tits" but actually...it added to his 'being treated like a lady' kink. And Cesaro knew this. It was why he did this in the first place. And because he liked Mike's muscular, curvy, thick body. He was still a man after all. Something to hold on to. He slowly removed the black suit jacket (Prada naturally) and folded it carefully, placing it on the floor, before ever so slowly removing the shirt from Mike's beefy shoulders.
"CLaudio..." cooed Mike.
Cesaro just smiled and stroked the slicked-back hair. If he was honest, he wanted Mike to cut it because he thought it looked nicer much shorter (he'd actually lusted after Mike in his WWE Title reign days as he had the fauxhawk and was a lot chunkier). But he loved Mike whatever he looked like. Mike shot him a beautiufl smile, his blue eyes sparkling as he began to unbutton the flash shirt Cesaro was wearing, moaning as that ripped, powerful body was exposed. Brock who?
Jack who?
"Let me," Cesaro whispered, slapping Mike's hands away. He was going to make Mike feel sexy. Make it all about him. Even though Mike had been the one in the wrong for being slutty. He knew how self-conscious Mike was about his shape and weight. He pushed Mike gently back onto his back and unbucked the expensive black leather belt, also unbuttoning and unzipping those fitted suit pants.
Mike was wearing tiny briefs underneath. He had a slight muffin top but Cesaro liked that. He pulled the pants down those chunky tanned legs and stopped to undo Mike's shoes and socks. Even the shoes were an $800 pair. He was such a little diva. Cesaro gently cupped Mike's bulging briefs and stroked.
A series of tiny screams left Mike's mouth.
"T...t...take my panties off..." he squeaked.
He was so...so...turned on. He'd not felt so sexy in ages. Cesaro was a fucking God. Such a gentleman.
"Oui," grinned Cesaro, gently taking the briefs down so Mike was naked. Mmmm. He still smelled gloriously masculine. Though he would never tell Mike that. Mike spread his legs as far as he could, trying to indicate what he was wanting.
"I...please..."
Cesaro pecked those pouty lips and began to stroke Mike's inner thighs and under his balls...moans, whimpers and those simply adorable small screams filled the room. Mike was the only man Cesaro had been with who had no interest in his dick being played with.
Cesaro began to undress infront of Mike.
His body was divine. He was fucking perfect in every proportion.
Every time they had sex...Mike was freshly in awe.
His cock was leaking precum copiously.
"Oh Claudio...you adonis...look how wet I am," he purred.
And he was still refusing to jerk even though the urge to do so was overpoweringly intense. It was a hundred times more sensual and satisfying when he didn't jerk off. Cesaro kneeled between those chunky legs and his bald head was now between Mike's thighs, and then...
"OOOOHHHHH!"
This man could rim like no other.
Mike raised his legs to give the Swiss full access.
That tongue was unreal.
And those long fingers...
Mike was thrashing his musuclar arms, small screams leaving his throat. He didn't care if the whole hotel could hear. Every so often Cesaro would look up and catch his eyes, stop to admire Mike's curves before resuming eating Mike's ass out. His handsome head moved back and forth, totally devouring Mike's most intimate area. Cesaro always thought that most guys didn't know how to do this on another and just used it as a throway thing before sniffing the poppers and dicking said guy. Cesaro was a gent. He enjoyed making his men scream. He'd tried to persuade Jack to let him do this when they used to mess about. But Jack said no, nothing was going there. WHich was why Cesaro ended up bottoming. But Jack was a good fuck.
Mike...however...was the full package.
Shame guys couldn't cum from there really.
Mike was a mess.
Powerlifting fucking tongue...oh God...
His nerve endings were shot to pieces and he hadnt even been fucked.
Cesaro was aggressive when he rimmed...seriously he could fucking teach classes how to trruly please another man.
He must have had women eating out the palm of his fucking HAND!
Mike was SO wanting to beat off and just fucking RELEASE...
"Claudio...I...OH! stop...please...I need all of you.."
Cesaro lifted his head, grinning.
"You're fucking amazing..." gasped Mike, "I can't last!"
Cesaro just grinned some more before reaching into his LV suitcase for the lubricant.
He coated two fingers and began to prep Mike.
Small screams filled the room once more.
Oh FUCK! Please don';t touch his spot...Mike was sure he'd come.
Mercifully the Swiss withdrew his fingers and began to coat his huge cock. Mike had only barely seen Cody's dick back in 2011 but he was sure Cesaro and Cody were equal. Cody chose to waste his length by being a bottom...Cesaro used his how it was intended.
Cesaro leaned forward, allowing those chunky legs to spread and aimed...penetrating the well-prepared entrance easily.
"Oooohhhhhh CLAUDIO..."
He slid all the way inside Mike, gently because he did know his own size and strength..letting the Ohio native wrap his muscled arms and thick legs tightly around him.
Mike was a mess.
A fucking mess.
WHy had he been so stupid?
He began to let out more small screams.
This was just...off the scale sex. The man was a fucking love God. Five different languages..six if you counted the fucking language of love!
He continued to let out small scream after small scream, punctuating it with Cesaro's real name constantly.
Cesaro let Mike express it, keeping his grunts low and manly. He was one heck of a lover. And plus he wanted to make sure Mike was never tempted by any other schmuck again.
"Ohhhh CLAUDIO...oh Claudio..."
Mike stroked the bearded face, his eyes wet with pleasure.
"K-kiss me...please Claudio..."
Cesaro did just that, keeping his movements firm but slow, pecking those lips. This was true man sex, not the artifical shit you saw in gay porn in his opinion. Men could be sensual too. Too many took the romance part out and used it as a freaking currency. Maybe Cesaro was the one doing it right whilst the others did it wrong.
"Ohhh...I'm gonna...Claudio..."
"Noo...non non non...not yet.." whispered Cesaro. He stopped.
Mike was an inch away from the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.
"WHY!?" he squeaked.
"We got all night.."
Cesaro paused when he knew Mike had edged it...and began to start fucking once more, the small screams louder. He leaned upright, still using those strong, powerful hips to thrust into Mike's ass, his long arms and huge hands now massaging Mike's pecs and uber-sensitive nipples.
The screams grew even louder.
Mike was on another planet. Oh fuck. This was why he loved being with men! No woman could ever have made him feel this fucking good! He WAS the woman now. And he didn't fucking care! His legs..lower back...ass...were all on fucking fire. Those hairy legs and soft duvet just felt so...fucking...he couldn't describe how it felt against his ass cheeks...But he was aching to just blow one huge fucking load. He couldn't hold it back once more. He needed to just cum..
"Oh Claudioooooo.."
"Close again mon cher?"
Mike nodded.
Cesaro was hoping he could get Mike to cum when he did...make it really fuckin epic for him.
He was getting close too..the tight warm heat, the short sharp wails and screams...that sexy curvy manly body writhing in ecstasy beneath him...he leaned down and gazed into those blue eyes.
Mike was so fucking close...more...please more..
"Oh...oh Claudio...please...I can't...I can't..."
"It's OK baby...let go..."
Mike threw his head back and screamed...like full-on scream as he exploded, shooting stream after stream of semen all up himself, hitting his stomach, chest, neck, face...he hadn't come for almost a week...oh my fucking God he;d never blown a load like this..Cesaro too was losing his shit, grunting...cussing...garbled French...or was it German...Mike wrapping his legs tightly around the powerful body...feeling the warm splatters shoot inside him...
FInally...
It was over...
Mike was a wreck.
Cesaro too, was a wreck.
They collapsed ina sweaty mass of muscled limbs ; air heavy with testosterone.
Now THAT was fucking makeup sex.
In the bar, Randy was on his fifth or sixth beer. He knew this was turning out to be a really bad idea, letting Dave Batista buy him drinks. Spiting John? Really? He may as well have just gone and fucking TOLD Ryder to go screw John.
"Ahh man, so glad Hunter decided to reform Evolution," grunted a boozed-up Dave.
"You've said that about eight times now," Randy huffed.
"True man," Dave said, "He and Flair made us both stars..."
"Only because Flair bet him fifty bucks and bought him a steak dinner that he could take two of the biggest nobodies and make them stars," Randy said.
"That old shit's been doing the dirtsheet rounds for the last decade," Dave said, slapping Randy on the back, "You enjoyed that shit, right?"
"Yeah...still do," Randy said.
Dave's hand was now resting on his thigh.
"Still looking good kid," the Animal growled, eyes flashing with a beer-fuelled lust, "Why do you still stick with Cena when he's banging that plastic twin."
"He's NOT!" snarled Randy, "For the fucking cameras! You banged Kelly so don't talk to me about plastic!"
"What did you have against Barbie, she was the hottest fucking thing this company ever employed," challenged Dave, "Scared she might be a better fuck than you?"
Randy got to his feet and squared up.
"FUCK YOU!" he snarled.
"Sore point, Orton?" teased Dave.
"I'll fucking show you!" spat Randy, and he slammed his beer down and stormed to the men's room to go take a piss.
Stood at the urinals, Randy's mind was racing. Had he once more given Batista a come-on?
One of the stalls opened at that point and Randy was met with the sneering face of Justin Gabriel.
He just shot him a snarl and stomped to the sinks.
"Surprised you're still here Orton," piped up the high flyer, "SHouldn't you be trying to reclaim Cena?"
"Don't associate with undercard jobbers," spat Randy, "Go back to NXT where you may still be relevant."
"I bet Cena's pounding Zack right now," Justin went on, "Zack's desperate for him...and you left him all alone in the tourbus."
"Fuck you," Randy said.
"No thanks," Justin said, "I unlike everyone else don't think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread."
"I wouldn't touch your prejacking ass with a bargepole," snarled Randy, "No wonder you can't get laid."
"Same old insults, let me guess, Rhodeth told you that did he? He's fucking an irrelevant dwarf. What does he know?"
"Just get the fuck out of here before I rip you limb from fucking limb," snarled Randy.
Justin just sneered and sauntered out.
Randy stared at his reflection before washing his hands. He looked up once more to turn the tap off and stood right behind him with a hungry look on his face, was Dave.
"Dave..." he said, "I'm gonna head back."
"Not like you to retire early, we used to go to Hooters every night back in the day," growled Dave, licking his lips.
He made his move and grabbed Randy around the waist.
"Dave?"
"Quit fucking cock teasing Orton," snarled the Animal, "And get your ass in that stall."
Justin;'s words still rang in Randy's ears.
He smirked at Dave.
The older man's lips crashed onto his, that tongue lashing around his mouth. No wonder he was called the Animal. Randy hadn't been kissed like that in years.
He broke it, and brain firmly in his cock, he dashed into the end stall, Dave following him, banging the door shut.
"Just fucking take your pants down!" Dave growled.
Randy fiercely unbuckled his belt and his jeans dropped to his ankles.
"Turn around and show me that sweet ass."
Randy did so, wiggling a little before taking his briefs down. What the fuck was he doing?! Why?
What if John didn't have Zack in the tour bus?
What if Gabriel was just doing his usual shit of running his mouth and stirring up trouble?
Dave sank to his knees and began to rim Randy roughly, grunting hungrily. Randy moaned loudly. Oh fuck. Damn it. Dave really was good with his tongue. Why did Cody have to be right? Randy didn't want to enjoy it.
He really was a slut.
Now he had no reason to hate Zack.
He'd crossed the line. Even if he refused to fuck Batista...Dave';s tongue was halfway up his ass...it didn't matter.
Dave slurped and licked roughly, his stubbled and goateed skin making Randy weak with pleasure. He always liked it when John went down on him unshaven.
"That's a fucking sweet ass still," growled Dave, spanking him, "You're still a hot piece of ass."
He unbuckled his own designer jeans and pushed them down his thick thighs. He spat on Randy's entrance. No time to be loving. Batista was a man with blue balls and a load to blow. Since 2002 he'd wanted to fuck that ass. Even Melina, who was one hell of a freak in the bedroom...the Animal had wanted nothing more than to pound princess Orton from one end of the room to the other. He'd heard Randy was a screamer. That bassy voice could go up so many octaves when his pussy was being smashed. He'd heard Cena banging him many a time. He'd let a little troll like fucking Bryan smash it. He was a whore and Dave fucking loved that.
"Hurry up and fuck me if you're gonna," rumbled Randy, turned on. But hating himself.
Batista spat on his hand some more and slicked his length.
He lined up behind the muscled, albeit flat, tanned ass and roughly entered the tight hole.
"OWWW! FUCK!" Randy cried, hissing in pain. Fuck that hurt. Dry. But...John was bigger. Oh who the fuck cared? No way could Randy take the moral high ground. Here he was, pants round his ankles, in fucking restroom stall, with Dave Batista's dick up his ass. He was dirt. And he knew it.
Dave barely gave his well...prey, any chance to get accustomed to the invasion before beginning to thrust in and out hard and fast, grunting and cussing immediately. If only Orton had hair still, he'd pull it. Instead he pulled Randy right back to him, his big callused hands rubbing the tee-clad torso.
Randy was moaning and crying out like a slut, watching their blurred reflections in the off-white tiles of the bathroom wall, the scent of pine disinfecant invading his nostrils, mixing with the beer and sweat scents and cologne coming off of both men.
Dave...wasn;t bad at all...hitting his spot...
His cock was leaking precum.
"Yeah boy," growled Dave, "Getting all wet for Daddy."
Oh God.
Randy had guessed that Dave would be into that Daddy/Boy shit.
"Yeah...rape me," Randy moaned.
Fuck you John.
Blatantly pounding Zack.
Zack was welcome to him.
Dave began to pound Randy hard and fast, jerking Randy's dick. Randy could take it like a man. Rhodes screamed like the little skank he was when Dave fucked him back in 08. But they were in a hotel room then. Randy couldn't be too vocal here.
"Oh fuck Dave.."
Yeah. Moan his name.
"Take my fucking dick Orton, if only your precious John boy could see you now."
Smack!
Smack!
Dave was spanking Randy's ass hard. He might be six foot, 240 pounds. But he was still younger than Dave by a fair few years. So as far as Dave was concerned, Randy was still a boy. Who cared if he was a dad? He fucking loved being dicked.
Randy wasn;t going to last...his prostate was being destroyed, his dick being jerked off...the thrill of being caught...the thrill of being so despicable to John...
"OHHH FUCK YES DAVE!"
He was coming.
SPraying the toilet in front of them with his essence.
"Yeah boy, make that pussy cum," growled Dave, getting close, "I';m gonna nut right in your slutty ass Orton."
Randy just whimpered.
Dave bellowed like a rampaging bull and climaxed hard inside Randy.
As soon as he was done, he pulled out.
And sank to his knees, slurping his own release from the gasping former eleven-time champion.
In the far corner of the bar, over yet more beers, Sheamus and Wade Barrett were busy discussing British football.
"So fucking glad you're here mate," Sheamus said, a little slurry and ruddy in the face now, "One thing I struggled with back home. Finding fellas who were into man stuff. Can't stand mincing fairies."
"Wouldn't call Danielson a mincing fairy," Wade grunted, necking his beer.
"How did you end up with all the builders and tradesmen, huh?" Sheamus said, "You're a dark horse."
"I just don't wear it like a fucking badge," Wade said, "Seriously look at all the puffs in WWE...Rhodes...he's the biggest nancy going."
"Agreed, can you imagine what shagging him would be like?" Sheamus said.
"He's a fucking bitch," Wade said, "Nice to your face and then stabs you in the back. Fucking shrimpy Josh Mathews? What the hell's all that about?"
"Drew hated working with him," Sheamus said, "Said all he did was talk about dicks and arses and grooming and shit. Tried to make Drew chop all his barnet off."
"I know Drew's a mate," Wade said, "But that's probably the last relevant thing he did."
"Shouldn't have married a psycho bitch," Sheamus said, "So Wade, keep askin ya, why Miz? The guy's a primadonna and an attention seeker!"
"To be honest buddy, after Gabriel, anything was a bonus." Wade said, "I was horny, and Miz is built like a man."
"Fat, you mean?" smirked Sheamus.
"Nothing wrong with a beer belly!" smirked Wade, "Some of my best shags were porkers."
"You like real men then?" Sheamus teased.
"Damn bloody right I do," Wade said, "All this shaving legs, trying to look like girls...talking like girls...makeup. Yuck. Whatever happened to blokes being blokes? Give me a sweaty builder with a hairy arse anyday than some preened up party bitch like Cody."
Sheamus shot him a big smirk.
He definitely thought now that Wade was all but asking him to give him one.
"Bored of this bar now," Sheamus said, "I;ve got some tins of Guinness in me room? Wanna come hang out there, away from all the drama?"
"Good lad," Wade said, slapping Sheamus on the back, "Should we see what ol' Drewboy's up to?"
"Nah, just us," Sheamus said. Well why not? Wade was a good-looking lad. A man's man. Totally on his level. In fact...he'd fancied Wade for a while. Ever since he lost the mop top and gained a beard. Woof. Sheamus was definitely into lads with facial hair.
Wade pulled his suit jacket on and stood up.
"Don't go too fast satsuma bollocks," he smirked.
Sheamus grinned.
Wade played his cards right he might just get to see them.
John Cena, unaware that his man had just cheated on him, was still agonising over what to do.
"Come on John," pleaded Zack.
"You're fucked up, you'll do something you'll regret," John said.
"I'll never regret being with you John," Zack said, getting up and looking right into John's eyes, his hardon now brushing against the folds of John's shirt, "Kiss me. Please. All I want is a little kiss, John."
"So why you naked?" challenged John.
"Kiss me John."
John sighed heavily.
Reluctantly, he leaned forward and pecked Zack on the lips.
Zack's face lit with a frankly evil smile.
"We know you can do better than that John," he murmured, his whisky-breath now invading John's every sense. John had never found someone more repulsive right now than Zack.
"You said little kiss, it's what you got, now get out," spat John.
"I could be recording everything on my phone right now Johnny," Zack said, eyes still glinting with a dead malice, "Kiss me. Properly."
John sighed. He had no choice. This could get out. Zack was clearly unstable. And if John didn't play ball...his career could be ruined as well as his relationship. Which it already was thanks to Randy's jealousy and beer-fuelled actions going on in the hotel unbeknownst to him. So actually, John had nothing left to lose. But he wasn't to know that.
He shut his eyes, imagining he was kissing Randy, and took Zack's lips once more. Zack's whisky-flavoured tongue thrust into his mouth and the younger man began to passionately make out with him, whining needily, grinding his leaking cock against John's shirt.
"Ohhh Johnn..." whined Zack, as they broke apart, his pink tongue licking his lips, chest rising and falling, so fucking pleased, "You're still so amazing at kissing."
He sank to his knees.
"No. No. You've had more than enough!" John said, hating how panicked he sounded.
"It's only me Johnny, your broski," Zack said, yanking John's sweatpants down. MMMMM! John was commando.
"Get off me!" snapped John, smacking his hands away, and trying to cover himself up.
Zack shot back to his feet.
His lustful expression was now replaced by a frown.
John was unprepared for what happened next.
Zack shoved him hard, so he stumbled backwards, losing his footing and crashing to the floor of the bus. Zack stumbled drunkenly over and straddled him.
His cock was achingly hard and he was leaking so much precum. He kissed John;'s neck, whimpering.
John tried to fight him off.
And then Zack punched him!
Right in the mouth.
"ARGH! Fuck!"
"Don't fight it Johnny," Zack cooed, "C'mon...you still want me. I'll even sit on your face like I used to."
"No!"
The door to the bus opened.
John had NEVER been more relieved.
Even if it was Nikki and the E! camera crew...hell even if it was Vince, Hunter, or Stephanie. Anyone to save him from this hideous hell he was in.
"Zack man? You in here? Gabriel said you were...oh...sorry..."
Curt Hawkins was red in the face at the sight of his buddy and former tag partner butt-naked and atop a clothed Cena.
"CURT! I TOLD YOU!" erupted Zack.
John caught Curt's eye.
"I'll come back later...I thought you were just hanging out..." Curt mumbled, turning away.
Zack pulled his briefs on and stormed over.
John picked himself up. Ugh. Thank fuck for the jobber. Zack's precum was all over his shirt. He was sure he was about to be raped. In a manner of speaking. Normally he'd object highly to undercarders barging into his bus. Which meant he now owed his life to freaking Curt Hawkins.
Zack's clothes were still on the bus. He kicked them out of the bedroom.
Outside the bus, Zack was enraged.
"I fucking TOLD YOU," he panted, furious, "To NOT come in! John and I were about to have sex!"
"I saw Orton on his way back, wanted to save you from an ass kicking," shrugged Curt, "Seriously man, Cena is off limits. You're already in the doghouse with them upstairs? Do you really want to be fired altogether cos if Orton had come in...you'd be fucking mashed up."
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT JOHN AND I HAD!" yelled Zack right in his face.
"Man, you need to sober up, you're wasted," Curt said, wincing at the pungent scent of cheap whiskey.
"I HATE YOU!" Zack bellowed.
"Keep it fucking down man, what if someone catches you?"
"I don't care Curt, you interrupted me! Now I'll never have him!"
Zack broke down into wheezy, drunken sobs.
Now Curt was in a predicament.
He awkwardly hugged his former Edgehead.
"It'll be OK man," he said, "C'mon man, put something on. You'll fucking freeze."
John was stood in the bus doorway.
OK.
He lobbed Zack's tracksuit out and shut the door, locking it.
Good job driver was a heavy sleeper.
Curt helped Zack redress and threw his arm over his shoulder before walking him back to the hotel.
BAck in the bus, John was pouring a large bourbon. He downed it.
Oh fuck.
What a night.
He went to the sink and began to dab his bleeding lip.
The door opened.
His heart began to race.
And in skulked a sheepish Randy.
John turned to look, his stance hard in case the Viper was after a fight.
"Johnny..."
Randy sounded apologetic.
"Ortz," John said brusquely.
"Sorry," Randy mumbled, unable to look John in the eye, his ass throbbing. He hated himself right now. Now he'd truly fucked things up. He'd not spotted CUrt and the wheezing state that was Zack on his way here, his mind totally on what he'd just done. If he just kept schtum, it'll be OK and he might just have gotten away with this misdemeanor. He was such an idiot. And looking back...wasn't that good. Dave was just using him as a walking fleshlight. In a fucking restroom. How much more seedy could it have been? As soon as Dave left, Randy had cleaned himself up best he could. He'd even sat on the sink to run the tap (thank FUCK nobody had come in during that or he would have had serious explaining to do) in order to rinse every trace of Dave off him.
"Fine," John said, "How many more bitch fits are you going to have before you start acting more like a 34 year old and less like a teenage girl? Or don't you believe anything I say?"
"Sorry," grunted Randy again.
He began to undress.
He wanted to go to sleep and forget tonight ever happened.
John sighed and padded over.
He sat on the bed.
Randy can't know what happened in here.
"What did you do to your lip?!" demanded Randy, noticing the small cut as he climbed his lean, bronzed form into the bed.
"Wasn't looking when I opened the cupboard," lied John.
Randy raised his eyebrows.
"What you got down your front?" he demanded, noticing the wet smears on John's shirt.
"Oh that? just dish washing liquid," John lied.
"Really? Since when have you tidied the kitchen?"
"Since you threw beer bottles at me?"
"Liar."
"See there you go again? Don't you trust me Randal?"
"Nope. not with Ryder's thirsty bitch ass on the loose."
John climbed into bed. He pecked Randy on the lips, noting how stiff Randy went. Maybe Randy was still mad at him.
"You taste of whiskey," remarked Randy, wriggling into his usual little spoon position.
"Yeah..."
John hugged his man from behind, having no idea he was in Dave Batista's arm marks.
Ooooh 'eck! Drama aplenty for the golden couple indeed. Randy you silly, silly, man. This is what jealousy can drive folk to do and always makes things ten times worse.
I cannot resist a Fatal Attraction style character and Zack really is bonkers isn't he? Maybe THAT should have been the subject of my sophomore slump 'No Way Out'. Oh well. Even a big hulk like John can be the victim and you gotta give him props for mostly keeping it in his pants unlike Randy's hungry arse. Randy knows he's fucked up big time. And he suspects John's lying. But we shall see. And see why he looked so swaggalicious on this past Raw...dressing up for John boy? After all, John's birthday was this past week...oh Randy you IDIOT.
And Sheamus and Wade...you wanted more Sheamus, you got it : D. I thought three sex scenes would be overkill to be honest. I find Wade hotter than Drew and I thought they'd be a hot pairing ; ).
Finally, the Mizaro. I love writing them too much. Miz is irritating as hell on screen but I love him being cute in fanfic. His chubbiness is what makes him adorable. And plus it gets Cesaro more slash love which is a plus. He's a hot blooded European and he knows how to lurve. Plus he needed to mark his territory and what better way than give Miz an off-the-chain night in bed?
Hope you liked this! : )