Chapter 12
Thanks again to all who reviewed! I gathered many of you would be hankering for more Shade. At this point they're in the honeymoon period with zero drama to be had so that's why they had a reduced role in C11! Surprised how many dug Samdrian as a pairing too! They were merely guest stars but I can give them a recurring role if you want more of the cute feisty ginger ninja and his well-meaning but clueless Brit other half! LOL.
So how's Johnny doing after Zack went psychotic on his ass? We shall open in London.
Randy Orton awoke early Tuesday morning in his posh London Docklands hotel room. He had had a horrible nightmare. He rarely had them but something had made him sit bolt upright. A sinister feeling of danger. In his nightmare , which was fast dissipating...someone was chasing him. Someone very evil. And he couldn't shake them off.
It was just a dream. Thank God.
Dave Batista was snoring like a warthog next to him.
Randy suddenly found that sound extremely repulsive.
In fact he couldn't bear to be in this room.
He fumbled for his phone before remembering he'd stuck it on charge by the kettle on the burgundy-varnished desk in the corner. He stumbled over and scrabbled, eventually locating it, reeling back as the screen lit up. He groaned. Barely 3 o clock in the morning. But he was wide awake now. He switched the torch light function on and searched for his underwear or at least something to cover up with.
He didn't care if anyone saw him walking about in just these briefs. They covered everything (just). And not like people who knew him hadn't seen his torso or thighs a million times before anyway. He grabbed his cigarettes from the bathroom (hidden in his washbag) before padding back to the desk. Where was his wallet? Ah. Needed the room key after all. Where did you go to smoke around here?
After taking the elevator down to the lobby, he padded to the reception desk. The bored-looking man, obviously on nightshift, goggled at the sight of this bronzed, six foot, tattooed hunk of a man in nothing but skimpy briefs stood where any guest could see him.
"Hey...er...where's the smoking area?" rumbled Randy.
"Through the bar sir," muttered the man, in an accent that Randy assumed was Polish.
"Thanks."
Randy made his way through the bar, which had closed up but still had lights on. He felt a bit silly at this time of a morning. And maybe he should have put more clothes on.
He pushed open the door to the 'beer garden' and picked a table farthest from the door. Luckily this was an inner courtyard and not backing onto the street really. Actually the wood of the seat was pleasantly cool against his bare thighs as he sat and lit a cigarette.
He was not a happy camper.
He missed John.
Missed John so much.
His lock screen was still John.
This 'relationship' with Dave Batista was just incomparible to the 12 years with John. It was barely a relationship. Dave wasn't interested in affection or any of the other stuff. He was just interested in tapping Randy Orton's ass. That was it. And...he was bad in bed. Randy had never had such unsatisfying sex. Dave only ever took him from behind, and just basically used him as a breathing fleshlight, pounding him until he blew his load, leaving Randy to finish himself off.
But Randy only had himself to blame. Jealousy had driven him to dropping his pants for Dave. And now John had thrown him out. He was stuck with Dave. Whilst John paraded fucking Ryder around like a trophy. Rubbing it in Randy's face that he had a younger, prettier model with a hot bubble butt.
Randy tried hard to not get furious with himself for letting this happen. After everything they'd been through. But he'd behaved like a shady bitch since March. First lusting after Daniel Bryan and sleeping with the current WWE World Heavyweight Champion. And then letting petty jealousy consume him and pissing everything he and John had up the swanny (as Sheamus says) for what? A dirty fling with one of the biggest womanisers in professional wrestling?
Randy missed everything badly. Everything. From the way John would just make a godawful mess of the tourbus...the way John loved playing with Alanna...the way he spooned Randy in bed. The competitiveness between them in the gym. The way they would troll fans who 'shipped' them. They were pretty obvious really. But Randy enjoyed that. it was the next best thing to being publically out.
Randal Keith Cena. RKC.
Still had such a nice ring to it.
No Randy.
Don't fucking cry you pussy.
Men don't cry.
Especially Randy Orton.
"FUCK THIS!" he roared to the navy hued sky, throwing his burning cigarette against the wall, resigning himself to another day with that pig Dave.
John Cena, unaware that his ex was earlier lamenting their relationship in the hotel two blocks away, had had a disturbed night on his own tourbus. Or rather a hired tourbus. But still. HIS tourbus whilst they were in the UK.
It was light outside but John could tell it was early.
Zack was mewling contentedly in his sleep.
John really had no idea how bad Zack would be. The kid was messed up. Now he'd got John, it seemed like he was fighting desperately to keep him. John could see why Zack held the knife to him. But actually. No. Fuck this.
He was John Cena.
Nobody threatened him! Nobody barked orders at him! No fucking body! Least of all undercarders! John didn't give a damn WHAT Zack would do or say to him today. He was not going to take that shit. He was already starting to drink at work because of the kid's hold over him. He was NOT going to succumb to Stockholm Syndrome. He was better than that. He could break Ryder's neck if he wanted. Not that he would, but he was strong enough. He crept out the bed and pulled on his khakis, a black tee and a plain black cap. Shades just to make sure.
He found his phone. 5am? Ugh.
He needed to get off of this bus.
It was no patch on his luxurious one in the States but it did have a nice bed and kitchenette. John pushed the door open and walked into the early morning London air. It was amazing how silent this city was at this time.
If John smoked, right now he'd be on his third. He needed coffee.
He wasn't too posh for Starbucks. If any were open yet.
He began to walk down the street.
"JOHN!"
Oh fuck.
He turned to see Zack, butt-naked, standing in the dooway of the bus.
"Morning," John mumbled.
"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Zack.
"Walk?" John said.
"WIthout your broski? Without your superhero?"
"DIdn't want to disturb you."
"I'm your boyfriend John. We do everything together."
"Couldn't sleep." John was determined to not break his resolve now he'd relocated his backbone.
"Ever thought that's why Randy left you John? Because you didn't treat him with respect?"
John bit his tongue. What the fuck did that stupid kid know?!
"Dunno." He shrugged his enormous shoulders.
"You get your ass back on this bus," ordered Zack.
"You don't give me orders!" John snarled.
"Oh really?" An evil sneer lifted Zack's face, "Just remember John...snip snip."
"You haven't got the balls," John spat.
"No but I can easily cut yours off," Zack said calmly, "And you wouldn't want your bro Sheamus to find out what a PUSSY you are, submitting to a 28 year old, huh?"
"Don't threaten me, not really selling yourself to me right now," snarked John, unperturbed. He'd had a rough night but the cold light of day had given him the slap in the face he needed. He was a fool to let Zack get to him last night. But Zack was now stepping out, ass-naked into the street. Where ANYONE could see.
"Put some fucking clothes on!" John snapped.
"But Johnny...your superhero missed you..."
John huffed. He had to get back on the bus. How could he brush this under the carpet if an early bird fan spotted this? Ugh. Just when he thought he had a way out.
He stepped back onto the bus.
Zack smirked in satisfaction. Oh yes. John was his forever now. Nothing could take his dream guy now.
"You forgot something John," he said, eyes dead, his smirk more ominous than ever.
"What?"
Zack made a kiss-kiss sound.
"And act like you weren't just an asshole?" challenged John.
Zack looked to the bedside drawer where the knife still was.
"Snip snip."
John huffed and climbed onto the bed, pecking Zack on the lips stiffly. Zack thrust his tongue into John's mouth, filling it with putrid morning breath and moaning pulled John to him and fell back on the bed.
"Clothes off," he rasped right in John's face.
John remembered one of the reasons why he broke the fling initially. Zack had bad breath first thing. Like unbearably bad. Most people didn't exactl;y smell of roses first thing. So morning sex was always from behind. He held his breath and reluctantly began to shed his clothes.
Zack was already holding the lubricant.
"Prep me," he ordered, "No foreplay. Still not satisfied from last night."
John huffed. Seriously? Had he been watching bad B-movies? He uncapped the lubricant and coated two fingers.
As he kneeled between Zack's toned, smooth, youthful legs, Zack held his stomach and grunted, before breaking wind immodestly.
Oh for GOODNESS SAKE.
If this kid was working on how be a complete turn off, he was succeeding.
But John knew he was trapped.
He held his breath and began to prep Zack.
London, Heathrow.
Another superstar with an early start was Cesaro. But not for travelling, oh no. He'd been busy booking a few things. He was waiting outside the terminal behind the wheel of a Bentley. Hertz did go surprisingly upmarket if you paid enough. And it was the British capital after all. The Swiss was dressed in a fitted Gucci suit, one of the latest lines. A huge bunch of flowers on the passenger seat.
Mike was back on the road as of today. And Cesaro had decided to surprise him by meeting him at the airport. Mike wasn;t on the Smackdown or Main Event card but it was just to get into the Swing (ha) of things before his first live event.
He saw Mike. Shades, flash suitcase.
Those chubby cheeks.
Cesaro grinned to himself. He'd missed his 'lady' a lot. He picked up the flowers and climbed out of the luxurious car before striding proudly to the Ohio native.
Mike didn't notice him.
Cesaro DID notice however that he'd had a haircut. At last. He looked hotter than ever. Scruff on his chin. He suited the Marine look extremely well. The Swiss tapped him on the shoulder.
"What?" Mike said, sounding pissed off before realising who was stood in front of him. A huge grin lit up his face and he removed his shades at once.
"Hi," Cesaro smirked, playing oh-so-casual.
"HEY YOU!" Mike attacked him with a massive hug.
"How was your flight?" asked the Swiss.
"Boring...awwwww are those for me?" Mike's big blue eyes went wet..he was so touched, "Hydrangeas...my favourite.."
"Only the best," grinned the Swiss, "Miss me?"
"Every day," Mike said, taking the flowers and pecking his beau to say thanks, "You didn't have to come all the way out here to meet me!"
"Wanted to," Cesaro said, "Follow me ma cherie, got more than just flowers...what do you reckon to this ride?"
"A Bentley? Oh CLAUDIO you angel," cooed Mike, admiring the shiny black paintwork of the car.
Cesaro opened the door like a chauffeur so Mike could sit inside before climbing in himself.
Mike was kicking back in the seat. He was enjoying this immensely. Worth every torturous hour on the flight. His man. And a beautiful car. What a thing to come to England for.
"So what do you want to do?" asked Cesaro, starting the engine, "We can go get food...sightseeing...whatever you want."
Mike took Cesaro's hand, rubbing his thumb over the powerful fingers.
"I've missed you Claudio," he said, "So much. You have no idea."
"But you were making a movie," Cesaro grinned.
"The bed was empty every night."
"You've just come off a long haul flight!" chuckled the Swiss.
"We have all day to sight see, shop and eat," Mike purred, "Claudio...take me to bed."
Cesaro had guessed Mike would ask for that first. It was still early enough to find the hotel without hitting hideous rush hour traffic. And if it took the long way to drive across the capital then so be it.
Mike wished he'd dressed up now Cesaro was in a suit. A delicious suit. Showing off his brawn to perfection. Whilst still looking like the perfect suave gentleman. Mike allowed himself a smile. He had, however, thought to wear his new briefs. Sheer black ones. Mmmm. Made him feel very sexy and flattered his curves. His plan was show up at the hotel and find Cesaro's room. But...Cesaro had come to meet him. In this Bentley. It was a dream. It had to be.
After being whisked across London feeling like a minister or some other VIP, Mike soon saw the hotel loom into view. Sooner he could get out of these clothes...
Once they'd parked up, Cesaro went and collected his man's bags from the boot and then opened the door for him.
Mike pecked him on the cheek and offered his arm.
Cesaro linked his in Mike's and escorted his 'lady' into the hotel. He was milking the gentleman role for all it was worth. All too soon, thankfully, they were safely encased in the Swiss's hotel room.
Cesaro placed the bags in the corner before hanging his jacket up on a coathanger.
Mike was perched on the bed, smiling big.
"What did you think?" asked the Swiss.
"Perfect," Mike replied dreamily, "You're perfect."
Cesaro sat down next to him and they kissed passionately. Mike making the cutest squeaks at the back of his throat. He pulled Cesaro to him.
"Got a surprise for you," he said.
"Have you?"
"Yup. Lay back. Relax and enjoy."
Cesaro thought Mike was going to be ultra cheesy and strip for him for a moment. but the Ohio native padded into the bathroom and locked the door.
He re-appeared, sporting that kimono that Maryse bought him.
Cesaro LOVED that on him.
"Well hello," purred the Swiss.
"Bonjour," Mike grinned, strutting over, "Miss me?"
"Hell yes," growled Cesaro.
"Not over yet sweetie," Mike purred, undoing the tie of the kimono and letting the silken garment fall.
Cesaro's eyes raked the delicious thick, curvy, chunky body in front of him. Sheer black briefs, with a darker patch covering Mike's cock...they were cut and fitted just right. Wow. And Cesaro could see every curve.
Mike turned, his bubble butt shown off to perfection in the see-through garment.
Cesaro was hard as a rock instantly. This suit was fucking uncomfortable.
"Like it?" asked Mike.
"Hot.." growled the Swiss.
"Will look better when you rip them off me," Mike grinned, wiggling his ass before turning back around and clambering naughtily onto the bed, straddiling the suited man and kissing him tenderly before unbuttoning the expensive pale blue dress shirt, eager to get to the ripped chest beneath. It was like opening a present. All the buttons done...Mike continued with the dark brown leather belt and the crisp, charcoal pleated trousers. Mmmmm.
Cesaro just let Mike undress him.
Soon he was down to his own underwear.
Mike began to kiss him some more.
The larger man rolled their bodies over so Mike was on hisd back, spanking the black sheer-clad ass repeatedly, enjoying the mewls.
"Don't worry about foreplay, I just need you," moaned Mike, "My Claudio.."
"But it's been a while..."
"I know sweetie..."
"I'll hurt you..."
"Hurting's part of the fun."
"OK,..."
Cesaro yanked the sheer briefs off the thick thighs.
"I have lube in my suitcase," Mike moaned.
Cesaro quickly got to his feet and unzipped the case, rummaging until he found it. He was a gent. He knew he was a big man. He wasn't going to hurt Mike. He uncapped the bottle and coated two of his long, callused fingers. Ever so gently, he inserted his forefinger into Mike's entrance.
Small screams instantly began to fill the room as Mike was finally touched for what seemed like the first time in forever. Oh GOD! He'd missed this so much. His own fingers had not cut it when shooting Marine 4. Jerking his cock whilst fingering his ass was the best he'd had to make do with. Not any more. Oh YES!
His legs were spread wide as he continued to let out little screams of pleasure, his cock now leaking precum at the contact.
"Please..." he whimpered.
Cesaro continued to scissor and prep.
When he was satisfied he wouldn't hurt Mike, he pulled his fingers out and shed his boxer shorts, before coating his length liberally. He was still going to make it count, damnit. Make sure Mike still wanted him and only him.
The Swiss kneeled between those spread, thick, juicy thighs and lined up. Ever so slowly he began to push into the tight opening. Mike was tighter than ever. Maybe he had been faithful. Cesaro pushed a bit more...Mike cried out as he was penetrated...it felt like losing his virginity again...it was the longest in a while he'd gone without sex...as Cesaro pushed more inside of him...he cried out in complete ecstasy as his prostate was finally hit.
Oh YES!
He'd missed this SO much.
He felt complete again.
"Ohhhh...Claudioooo..."
"Miss me?" smirked Cesaro.
Mike nodded, gasping, reaching up to stroke his partner's face.
"You have no idea baby."
Cesaro began to move slowly. In and out. SMall screams filling the room. Mike's arms flew up and around Cesaro's sinewy neck, claiming his man as his once more.
"Don't be shy Claudio..." he moaned, "You can go hard if you like."
Cesaro pulled almost all the way out...and then slammed all the way back in hard to surprise him.
Mike screamed.
Oh my.
You can do that again!
Cesaro knew by that scream that he'd just done good. Hearing men scream was his kryptonite. He began to fuck Mike in this way once more. Long-fucking him.
Every time, Mike seemed to get louder as his prostate got well and truly stabbed. Oh my. He could go like this for hours! Cesaro was an untamed European brute. Oh yes! Brock who? Jack who? Wade who? Who needed them when you had this God of a man?
Mike began to scream immodestly, so lost in his pleasure. His legs were wrapped around the thrusting, muscular, hairy body like a vice; his arms still locked around Cesaro's neck possesively.
"Oh Claudio! OHH! OHH FUCK!"
His screams providing the perfect foil to the bass note of Cesaro's masculine grunts and growls, and even...repeated spanks to Mike's ass...oh yes. Oh yes. Like that. Just like that. More. More. Don't be shy Cesaro.
He lay back, throwing his arms down on the bed, hoping Cesaro got the message. The Swiss grinned and held Mike's legs up and apart, using his strong hips to pound the curvaceous ass hard. Oh yes. Mike knew how to take a pounding.
And still Mike was not jerking his cock.
Cesaro hoped after this hiatus he could make his chubby partner come.
Mike's favourite positon was still being held whilst he rode...but this was not the time...his spot was being smashed just right like this...oh yes...he was close...he could feel his legs and abdomen tingling...more!
He was fighting the urge to just fist his cock.
C'mon!
Oh yes.
He was still crying out and screaming, writhing in ecstasy beneath the huge man, who had his open legs in a powerful grasp.
Suddenly Mike let out the loudest scream that almost shattered the windows and the bedside lamp as long ropes of semen exploded all over his abs, curvy pecs, even his face as he finally climaxed. Oh God...he'd almsot forgotten what it was like to be made to cum hands free.
"Keep...going...you're...not...done.." he gasped as he felt Cesaro slow down.
"I can wait..." grunted the Swiss.
"Claudioo...keep going..."
"You got more?"
Mike nodded.
He hadn't jerked off for a week.
He was saving himself.
It had been hell.
But this was worth it.
Keep fucking him!
Cesaro manfully continued, enjoying the tiny screams, a touch hoarse now...he was close...just listening to Mike scream...oh fuck.
He cursed in garbled German before driving deep into the tight ass, exploding hard inside Mike.
Gasping, the large man began to jerk the base of Mike's cock, enjoying the moans.
"CLaudio...no..." gasped the smaller man, "You've...you're perfect alrady...that was amazing..."
He leaned up and kissed Cesaro.
"I love you," he panted, blue eyes shining.
"I love you too," Cesaro replied, gently pulling out and laying beside his 'lady'.
Georgia.
The WWE were safely back in the US after a successful European tour.
The afternoon before Raw.
John Cena was sat alone in Catering. Thankfully he was Zack free. It felt like being released from prison. He was picking at his chicken breast on the plate, appetite at zero. Zack had made him fuck him for almost an hour this morning. And yes, John had to wait until the younger man had come before he was allowed to finish up. So much for growing a spine when he got up. How did John let himself get in this situation? Why didn't he just appreciate Randy more? Once again, he'd taken Randy for granted, even AFTER Daniel-gate. OK he hadn't banked on Zack showing up at the tour bus in a drunken state but still, he should have just grown a pair and told Zack to get lost. But he had. Zack just wouldnt take no for an answer. And he knew that Randy's jealousy was like Mount Vesuvius.
"Alright mate," came an Irish brogue.
John was never more grateful to see Sheamus in his life.
"Yeah...just about," he mumbled, shuffling up so the United States Champion could have a seat.
"Well that's bollocks," Sheamus said, "Spit it out John fella, what's eating you?"
John sighed heavily.
"You probably guessed that Randy and I are no more," he said, "Turns out you were right. Randy prefers Dave fucking Batista."
Sheamus shifted guiltily. Hopefully he could play this like it was a surprise.
"Oh...I'm really sorry," he said.
John decided to save grilling Sheamus about possibly knowing stuff before him for another day. Right now burning bridges was not an option.
He shrugged.
"What's this about you and Ryder?" Sheamus went on, "I thought you said he was after you...apparently you and him have..."
"Yes," John snapped, "Go on. Judge away."
"Well you don't sound too happy about it," the Irishman said.
"No I'm freaking not," snarled John, "Shea...Steve...I need to talk to someone. You can laugh later."
"Whoa, this sounds heavy," Sheamus said, lowering his voice, "What's up mate?"
"Zack...he's...psycho," John said, "Really...he needs a straitjacket or something. He's...been threatening me."
"Threatening you?"
"You don't believe me do you?"
"Sounds Hollywood John. You shouldn't have bonked him."
"I know...I was drunk...newly single...I just thought why the hell not."
"Even though you KNEW he was crackers about you? You fucking idiot! What if he's like...whats-her-name, Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction? You said before he was clingy!"
"I know...I was stupid! Now I'm fucking stuck with him!" John cried.
"You're the top guy mate," Sheamus said, "You can say no. Nobody's making you stay with him. Most people think he's an arsehole anyway with his desperation to get pushed and stuff."
"Not as easy as that though, is it?" John huffed.
"Something you're not telling me John," Sheamus went on.
"Last night," John said, "He...oh God..you'll think I'm batshit...last week...in England...he...held a knife to me. Well he did it once before that as well." He rolled up the leg of his khaki shorts to show the scratch.
"Jesus..." Sheamus exhaled, "Mate, you need to break it off. Fast."
"How? He'll go whining about how I'm bullying him," John said.
"And you think McMahon will take his snivelling arse over you? Get a grip! Look...kip in with Wade and I tonight. We're here for two days, aren't we? Lock up your bus and get it after Smackdown wraps tomorrow."
"You sure you want me invading the love nest?" John said.
"I'm sure we can keep it in our pants for one night," Sheamus grinned.
"Thanks...you're a real buddy," John said.
Over at another table, Curtis Axel was shaking his head in disapproval as Cody was browsing Grindr on his phone. He could totally see why this app was so popular. And his home city was full of trade. He'd picked up a couple of hot men in Belgium and France. Now that had been hot sex.
"What?" he pouted, catching Curtis' face.
"What exactly are you trying to acheive?" asked Curtis, "One minute you're all depressed, the next you only care about where your next dick fix is."
"Don't have to think about him," Cody said obstinately. He was dressed down. A faded Spiderman hoodie, grey sweatpants and his Off-Duty Glasses on his face.
"So why do you still have a photo in your wallet?" asked Curtis, "And your lock screen is still him. And your passcode is still his birthday."
"YOU BEEN LOOKING AT MY PHONE?!" shrieked Cody, causing several people to look at him.
"Good job I did, those slutty photos are gross," Curtis said, "You'll never find another long term boyfriend if you keep acting like a whore."
"Worked for Mizzlekins," snapped Cody, "I bet he fucked every male crew member on the set of the Marine 4."
"Cody..."
"Ooooh...hello..." Cody said, ignoring him, a profile on Grindr catching his eye.
Curtis just shook his head.
"You're not impressing anyone," he warned, "People are already laughing at you."
"Shame Barrett's now taken," Cody said, still totally blanking Curtis, "I'd happily let that hot Brit wear me like a sleeve. We do the JBL And Cole Show together after all. I see the way he checks out my ass."
"Quit it!"
"No! Hennig if you don't stop preaching...!"
"May I just remind you that you're now back on the same soil as your WIFE?"
"Shut up."
Curtis huffed.
"I'm going to the bathroom," he said.
Cody shrugged.
He watched Curtis walk, that big, round bubble but spilling out of his trunks. Cody wouldn't mind tapping that. And he'd NEVER top anyone normally. He and Curtis could have great fun in the bedroom. Two bottoms could have fun.
He got to his feet.
He groped that ass.
"HEY!" Curtis said, "What the hell are you playing at now?!"
"C' mon," Cody said, a lascivious grin spreading across his face, his blue eyes icy, "We're good friends. Spice up our friendship a little...no feelings bang."
"You're insane," Curtis sighed, "Snap out of it."
Cody grabbed Curtis and began to make out with him messily, eyes shut. But it wasn't Curtis he was picturing. It was Josh. Curtis had soft lips beneath that beard. Curtis struggled to fight him off.
It was no good.
SMACK!
Cody reeled back, holding his face.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!" he roared.
"Why did you just make a pass at me?!" snapped Curtis.
Cody's face crinkled.
Kicked puppy look in full swing.
Tears began to fall.
Curtis' anger softened. Right now his job was to be a friend, because God knew Cody needed one right now.
He gently hugged the shaking man to him, rubbing his back.
"Hey...hey hey...c'mon..."
"So...stupid...want...miss...him...!"
"I know, I know. But...coming on to me won't solve anything."
"I'm sorry...so sorry..."
Curtis pecked the raven head.
"It's OK...ssh...c'mon..."
In a side room at the arena, Randy Orton was on all fours. As per usual.
"Fuck yeah," Dave was grunting, "Gonna nut your pussy boy..."
Yuck.
Seriously. This was beyond bad. He'd had a more exciting time with his own fingers up him.
"Dave...Dave..." he rumbled, "Stop..."
"What?"
"Stop!"
Dave growled in frustration and pulled out of that perfect albeit flat, tanned, muscular ass.
Randy pulled his trunks back up and stood up.
"What's your problem?" spat Dave, "You don't even try anymore. You just fucking lay there like a sack of wet shit!"
"Nice," snarked Randy, "You know how to make a guy feel special Dave, really, can see why Melina and Kelly and every other sad skank you dipped that in wanted a piece."
Dave narrowed his eyes. How fucking DARE Randy talk to him like that. But he was losing interest in this fling. He may as well be using his hand Randy was that unresponsive now. The fire had fizzled out of this.
"Fuck you!" he snarled.
"No thanks, I'd sooner use my own fingers," Randy hit back, folding his arms.
"Your problem is, you're fucking high maintenance! You're a chick, Orton!" growled Batista.
"And you're bad in bed," Randy said, "Seriously. I gave Johnny up for you? What was wrong with me?"
"You enjoyed it, dropping them in the restrooms for me like the easy slut you are!"
"I was drunk, pissed off and horny. Get over it."
"Get out!"
"Make me Dave."
Dave grabbed him by the front of his black tee.
"You little PUNK..."
"Six foot, less of the little."
"I'd knock your teeth down your throat you arrogant...fucking..."
"Let go of me Dave."
Dave realised that he was wasting his time picking a fight with golden boy Orton. He just sneered and stormed out bitterly.
Randy dusted himself down. OK he was alone once more. But it was worth it. He'd rather be alone that without his beloved John.
He'd been thinking about John all week.
Could he...approach John?
If he approached him, maybe John would be surprised and thenceforth more forgiving. This whole mess was Randy's fault after all. He began to pad towards Catering. It was worth a shot, wasn't it? Not like Randy had anything left to lose now. This whole nightmare was beyond a joke. All because he'd got jealous of John. He stopped by a mens' room en route. As he pushed open the door, he saw a huge ivory and red figure at the sinks. Crap. Sheamus. He knew Sheamus would give him a mouthful. He was still buddies with John.
Randy attempted to skulk silently into a stall, looking amusing like the Copper Panther whilst doing so. But too late. Sheamus had looked up and spotted him in the mirror.
"Look what the cat sicked up."
"Not like you to speak like Cody," retorted Randy.
"Going to shit out Dave Batista's spunk are we?" Sheamus' eyes were narrowed.
"None of you business...Paddy," sneered Randy.
"Can see why John went off of you," Sheamus said, "You're just a slag."
"Still bitter because your ex fucked me, aww what a shame," Randy smirked, getting right into his face.
"You don't give a fuck do ya?" Sheamus snarled, "Look at ya? Strutting around like a sodding peacock!"
Randy fixed Sheamus with a smirk.
"You know, I'm a free agent after the show now," he said, "Lot of rage there Sheamus, why don't you allow me?"
Sheamus was so gobsmacked he forgot to be pissed off. Was he for real?
"Sorry," he said, "I'm taken. Unlike you."
"Really?" scoffed Randy, "Who'd want a pale potato eater like you?!"
Sheamus just smirked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Randy huffed. What had this acheived? Other than ruin his reputation even further and alienate one of his possible leads to John. He not only missed John terribly, he was suffering rampant sexual frustration. He barely called what Dave did sex, merely using him as a cum rag. John and he had a connection like no other. 12 years of arguments, feuds, epic matches...the rest. What was Dave? A rebound fuck. Nothing more. The first time might have been the rush of a new body. But every other time just could not compare to John.
"Sorry," he grunted.
"SHould bloody think so," snapped Sheamus, "You're lucky we're at work otherwise your legs would be broken right now."
"Wouldn't blame you if you did," grunted Randy.
"Look," Sheamus said, softening a little, guess being a taken man was making him go weak these days, "I can see that you're missing him."
Sheamus had to be careful he didn't open his mouth and start orchestrating stuff that really he shouldn't be. Poking around in others' business never ended well.
"Course I fucking miss him!" erupted Randy, kicking a stall door open in anger, "I was a kid when I first slept with him! I'm too fucking old to screw around nowadays! Jesus...all i fucking wanted was a ring on my finger Stephen!"
Sheamus couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He could tell Randy was feeling very vulnerable. And John had told him how insecure Randy was underneath his cocky asshole front.
"Yeah, go on! Laugh!" bellowed Randy, "All I fucking want is to be Mrs John Cena! Yes! The great Randy Orton is an over emotional needy bitch! GO ON! LAUGH!"
"I'm not laughing mate," Sheamus said, shrugging, "But now I see why you wear the headbands on your finger..."
Randy was kicking the wall and cursing now.
Sheamus knew that he could tell him John was down and not happy with his toyboy. But interfering always bit you on the arse. Damn it this shit was complicated.
Raw had wrapped.
Randy was preparing to go back to the hotel. Alone. He should have gotten his tour bus. He lingered outside John's in the parking lot. Could he...?
No.
He couldn't.
Tonight had been intense enough.
Having to face his former protege Cody didn't help one iota. Predictably the jibes about 'Candy' had started up again and he'd gotten one heck of a dirty look from Josh Mathews as he left the arena. RK Blow indeed. He had to admit that was funny. He did feel like a bit of a blowout right now. There was the big piece missing in his life. The piece named John Felix Anthony Cena. The piece which he himself had forced out. All because of his petty jealousy.
"GET AWAY FROM OUR HOME!" came a shrill man's shriek.
Randy turned in alarm.
But the alarm was replaced by pure, crimson hatred when he saw Zack Ryder stood in front of him.
"'Our Home' is it?" he rumbled, folding his arms.
"YES! OUR home. Me and JOHN'S!" Zack said, voice quivering, "Your idea was it?! Getting me crushed by fucking Rusev again? Making me look stupid on TV?!"
"You always look stupid," Randy deadpanned.
"Yes...WELL...I have John now. He's MINE! MINE DO YOU HEAR ME?" Zack cried out, "He's not yours anymore Blandy! You pushed him away! YOU sent him packing! So go away and leave us alone!"
"Wipe his ass for him too do you?" scoffed Randy.
"I KNOW YOU FUCKED MY CAREER OVER BECAUSE JOHN TOLD ME RANDY!" screamed Zack, now dangerously shaking, "I'll fucking get you!"
Randy laughed derisively. What a sad sack of shit. He wasn't fit to shine John's shoes.
"No thanks, don't want herpes," he sneered, "Why don't you take your little legs and go to your hotel room like a good little jobber?"
Zack got right in Randy's face.
"You...don't...t-talk to m-me like that..." he said, voice low now but still terrifyingly shaky, "Ever..."
"Breath like yours, no wonder John only ever wanted to hit you from behind," snarked Randy, refusing to be intimidated, "Plus looking at your ass is a major upgrade from your face."
"FUCKER!" Zack shoved Randy hard, causing the VIper to trip and fall flat onto the concrete on his ass.
Randy was incensed. Nobody pushed him around, least of all this crazy ass child! He bellowed like a bear and leapt to his feet before pushing Zack hard against the bus, grabbing him by the throat.
"I could squeeze the fucking life out of you right now but that would be too fucking easy," he growled menacingly, "You are going to take your things...and get them off OUR bus."
"He...doesn't...want you...he wants me...he's with me.." spluttered Zack.
"I SAID TAKE YOUR GOD DAMN THINGS AND GET THEM OFF OUR FUCKING BUS!" roared Randy.
"NO!" screamed Zack, wriggling free, holding his neck.
"What the hell's going on?" came John's voice.
Randy's heart leapt.
But he was still too furious to think rationally.
"Oh...hi..." John said, as he caught Randy's eye.
"Hi." snapped Randy, chest heaving in and out.
"HE ATTACKED ME JOHN!" screamed Zack.
"Did he..." deadpanned John.
"Yes! He threw me against the bus and choked me Johnny..."
Randy growled with rage. NOBODY called John Johnny but him!
"Did he?" John said, glaring at Randy.
"He's bullying me John!" Zack clung to John like a limpet.
"OK...OK...you get yourself on the bus," John said, awkwardly ruffling Zack's hair, "I'll deal with him."
"Yes Johnny," Zack said, and he shot Randy a nasty grin for a split second before sloppily kissing John and bounding onto the bus.
John knew there would be hell to pay once he got on. But he didn't care. He shut the door of the bus and folded his enormous arms, staring his ex down.
Randy mirrored him right back.
The air sizzled with testosterone and anger.
Two male egos competing.
Both still mad about the other.
Despite everything.
Neither of them would admit it to the other for fear of showing weakness.
John;s phone buzzed at that moment.
A text from Sheamus.
Hey mate, you still gonna stop with us? Waiting in the car park : )
Oh shit.
He forgot about that.
Oh fuck. How was he able to get away from here?
"Aren't you gonna get on your white horse and take me down to defend your beloved broski?" Randy snarked, dripping sarcasm and comtempt.
"What;'s your game...Orton?" snapped John.
"Just taking out the trash," shrugged Randy.
"Well keep your nose out of my business in future," John spat, "Or I could end your career...RK Blow. Have to admit Rhodes is still good at the insults. Because he's always spot on."
"Fuck you!" snarled Randy.
"You got ten seconds to get the hell away from my tourbus," John said, "One...Two..."
"Johnny...please...we...never talked about this."
"Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven..."
"You're so up your own ass Cena, you know that!"
"Eight...nine...ten...OK time's up. Fuck off Orton."
"Grow up!" erupted Randy, "WAKE UP JOHNNY! He doesn't fucking love you! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"
"Funny way of showing it. By the way, how is Dave?" sneered John, unable to keep the resentment from bursting forth.
"Oh that was low..." choked Randy, hating himself as his eyes stung with salty water, "Low...you bastard John."
"As low as cheating on me twice and then having the sheer audacity to criticise me for daring to move on myself? If the shoe had been on the other foot Randy, you would have gouged out Bryan's eyes or ripped his beard out strand by damn strand!" John cried.
"Not about me!" Randy rumbled.
"Damn right it's not!" John said, "I'm not far off forty. I've busted my balls out for this company for years! And for you. All you did was take, take, take. You thought I was that whipped that I'd come running even though you go dropping your pants for anyone with a dick."
"I am NOT A SLUT!"
"Really? So how good in bed was Bryan, huh?"
"Fuck you."
Randy hid his face, defeated.
It was no use.
"That all you got? Good. Because I'm tired and I need my bed."
John turned on his heel and climbed onto the bus, locking the door behind him.
Randy shook with sobs. His fight had left him.
He stomped away to find somewhere that was away from everyone.
As soon as he found a hidden, dingy, dank spot in the corner of the parking lot, the multiple-champion and former Face Of WWE sank to the ground, head in his hands, shaking with anguish.
Sheamus was waiting by the car.
"Don;t think he's coming," Wade said, "Just leave it. Maybe he forgot."
"Maybe," Sheamus said, "I dunno. What he said..."
He had ended up telling Wade and the Brit had assured him that he wouldn't tell Drew or indeed anyone else.
"Can't poke your conk in," shrugged Wade, opening the passenger door and climbing in, "Never solves owt."
"I know," Sheamus sighed, "Still, least we get the room to ourselves."
"Good," smirked Wade, leaning over and claming the Irishman;s lips.
"You're a horny bastard, anyone ever told ya?" smirked the redhead.
"Not every day I find a real man's man," Wade said, "Damn you've turned me into a mess Ste."
"No you just haven;t gotten good sex in a long time," Sheamus replied, grinning.
"Money. Mouth."
"Keep your legs shut until the hotel then."
It was a mercifully quick drive back to the hotel thankfully. Sheamus had barely got the key in the door before he was attacked with a mass of manly aftershave, beard and muscle.
"Steady on, what if I end up in an epic match tomorrow?" gasped the Irishman.
"Man up," snarled Wade, shoving the elder man onto the bed and straddling him, removing his merchandise tee to show off his inked arms. Sheamus pretended to put up a fight. This to him was what sex with/dating another man should always have been. No divaish behaviour to be seen. Just raw testosterone. He just lay there and let Wade yank his belt buckle apart and almost tear his jeans down his thick white legs.
"Take your bloody shirt off."
Wade had his troll-smirk going on.
Sheamus had to admit he'd only really fancied Wade since the Englishman had chopped his mop of hair and grown that beard. Why hadn't Wade looked like that sooner? Fit his personality and screen character so much better. He unbuttoned his shirt and shucked it off so he was virtually ass-naked as Wade finished removing his shoes and jeans.
"Fuckin'ell," Wade breathed, "Why didn't I meet ya back 'ome?"
"Ah shut up anjd get your knickers off," teased Sheamus, casually stroking himself.
Wade began to unbutton and remove his jeans and boxers before laying atop his partner, grinding their cocks together and grunting mannishly in pleasure. No signs of slowing down yet. And they were men's men so they didn't row about petty shit, talk about feelings or any of that crap. Suppose you could call their relationship best mates with benefits but neither man was going to take any risks yet. Just enjoy the setup as it was. Bearded lips clamped onto bearded lips, peppered with growls and grunts of British Isles accents. Sheamus reached up and grabbed Wade's smooth, perky arse, enjoying the moans.
"Where's the fuckin' lube?" snarled the Englishman.
"In the bag you randy bugger," hissed Sheamus.
Wade got to his feet and started to scrabble inside the case. Sheamus grinned naughtily and spanked that peachy butt hard.
"You cheeky fucker," Wade smirked, bending over.
He wanted it again.
Sheamus spanked him again.
"OW! Fuck me!"
"I intend to."
"Cheeseball."
Wade found the almost-used-up bottle of lube and crawled back onto the bed.
He began to squirt the gel all over Sheamus's cock.
"FInger yerself," Sheamus barked, brogue stronger than ever.
Wade smirked right back and began to coat two fingers before inserting them inside himself, groaning throatily. He was proof you could be a total bottom and still be masculine. He had no desire whatsoever to start listening to girly pop music and take an interest in fashion or celebrities. He straddled his smooth, powerful thighs over his pale partner and lowered himself down.
"Oww...oh fuck yeah," he rasped, voice filthy with lust.
That accent. Sheamus's biggest fantasy when he was a teen was a rough Northerner. Here he was in his mid thirties fulfilling it every damn day. The tight heat surrounded him. They had already stopped using condoms. They were sensible blokes after all.
Wade's huge hands pushed into Sheamus' chest as he was filled every inch.
He began to snap his trim hips back and forth, grunting and growling in lust.
"Yer a feckin' animal," snarled Sheamus, a lustful sneer now painting his face.
"Take me fuckin' 'ands," Wade snapped.
Sheamus grabbed them, adding his own deep growls.
Wade was riding him like it was his bloody job, snapping his huge six foot plus body, working it. He could move it in bed. And it his his g-spot just right in this way. Oh fuck yes.
The bed was creaking at well over 500 pounds of man rutting like alleycats atop it, the room reverberating with animilastic growls and suppressed snarls of ecstasy; fuelled by adrenaline from the show.
Wade was so horny he really wasn't sure he was going to last. This was just fucking perfect. Oh fuck. His grunts were increasing in volume. His arms popping with veins as he clutched the Irishman's hands.
Oh shit.
Damn he was closer than he though.
Sheamus could see that.
The strength of Wade gripping him...in several places...fuck...such a turn on...
"Ya gonna cum?" he whispered between grunts.
Wade nodded, face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead.
Sheamus began to thrust upwards harder.
"OH...FUCK YEAH!" yelled Wade, accent thick and raspy.
Keep doing that!
Sheamus just smirked and continued.
More.
More.
Wade suddenly let out a roar and threw his head back, convulsing as he exploded all over Sheamus's pecs, face and the bed behind him, his body ablaze. Wow...usually he had to wank off to cum in this position...he must have been really gagging for it.
"C'mon..." he gasped, "Need your spunk...fookin' cum inside me man.."
Sheamus began to really go for it, pounding the 250 pound body atop as much as he could. He was so fucking close...oh fuck...he was growling...grunting..louder and louder...Wade nodding and sneering lascviously through a sheen of sweat...
Sheamus bellowed like a bull as he finally went over the edge.
Wade chuckled in satisfaction, leaning down and claiming his man's lips.
"Fookin top," he panted.
"Get yer arse off of me," Sheamus gasped, chest rising and falling.
Wade eased himself off and lay beside his partner.
Sheamus grabbed him and kissed him hard.
"Damn..." he said hoarsely after a while, "You're the fucking best, man."
"So are you...wish I'd have had ya sooner."
"You look better now," teased Sheamus, "Stopping shaving was the best thing you did."
Wade smirked triumphantly.
Well that had been his plan after all. Justin had hated the beard. He knew it was the right thing to do. Get Justin off his back for good and seduce a real man.
In his hotel room, Cody Rhodes was on his laptop, looking through old photos from 2008-10. He'd grouped them by era - 2007-2008 (Bob Holly era); 2008-10 (Legacy), 2010-11 (Dashing), 2011-13 (The mask and Rhodes Scholars) and 2013 to present (Brotherhood). He was fussy like that.
The albums were a mixture of match shots, promo shots and nights out with Josh and Layla, or Ted, or other roster members. Along with some backstage capers.
Right now he was looking at a picture taken backstage. He had his arm around Josh and was duckfacing camply. He had to admit he looked so gay back then. Smooth, shapely, slim legs that really could have belonged to a girl...his ebony-black hair...and this was pre-Dashing. Either Teddy or Layla had taken that.
Hang on...he shifted guiltily as he checked the date. May 2009. That was the night he slept with Dolph. And Teddy still didn't know to this day. Cody remembered why as well. Teddy had been amazing. His dream guy. But at that point, was when Josh really had started getting hot. Josh was bald then (Cody really dug the buzz cut on him) and Cody had jerked it imagining he and Josh. To cover up his guilt...and because Dolph was frankly hot as fuck, he'd cheated on Teddy. Yeah because that wasn't fucked-up logic at all. Cody sighed and shook his head.
Legacy was the best time of his career. He had it all; a solid relationship with Teddy; a rising spot on the card, valuable mentorship from Randy (when he wasn't ribbing the Viper about John), besties with Josh...everything was just so. Just perfect. Why did things have to change? Why did he have to get moved to Smackdown? Why did he get stuck in a pointless tag team with Drew McIntyre? Why did Josh sleep around? Why did Teddy get buried after Mania 26? Why did Teddy leave? Why did Josh have to date Miz?
He opened up the next album. 2011-13. Yuck. Josh and Miz. Alex RIley. Oh hello. Josh when he used to wear gear like Maryse. He was noticeably smaller back then. Oh God. The 'Dashing And Flawless Bitches'. He'd forgotten about that. A group shot. Wrestlemania 27. Josh. Him. Miz with his WWE CHampionship...wow. A-Ry. Teddy with the Million Dollar Belt just before HE got drafted to Smackdown... Layla in her old sparkly trousers...she was a lot thinner then but the bangs and shoulder-length hair looked good on her..that was around the time they'd staged photos for dirtsheets to act like they were dating...very clever... Michelle. Evan Bourne...wow. That seemed a lifetime ago.
Cody hated every photo of Josh with Miz. In fact he seemed to just be searching for ones of him and Josh. Preferably touching. Well damn. The old FCW converted warehouse circa early 2012. Josh with Richie Steamboat. Cody had almost forgotten that relationship happened. And he'd pushed it himself after Josh confessed he was in love with Cody. Even though Cody had felt it back too but hadn;t admitted it until almost a year later. Messy times.
And then...they fought.
July 2013. First couple photo. Awwww.
Cody sniffled.
He closed the folder.
What was the point of wallowing in the past?
He looked down at himself.
Maybe he shouldn't have bulked up so much.
Josh was a lot more muscular and ripped than he'd ever been...if they'd got together in 2009 they would have been an evenly matched couple...two twinks...well Cody would have been the bigger twink as he was smooth from chin to toe (apart from his shortlived teen-wolf patch - ha).
Cody knew Josh would move on. He had plenty of friends in NXT. And Cody hated the very thought. It made him sick. He deserved this for being such a primadonna bitch to everyone. he'd gotten cocky. He thought Josh would never leave him. But Josh HAD left him.
Cody lay back, huffing, sobbing quietly. He was so cut up. Anonymous sex with men whose names he didn't know off Grindr hadn't solved anything. He remembered what Shawn Spears had said.
"Every time you sleep with someone they take a piece of you."
How ironic that Josh was seeing Shawn (now wrestling in NXT as Tye Dillinger) more than HE was? It was like fate was laughing at Cody. Cody was amazed that they'd remained friends after he'd slept with Shawn. Wow Cody was a slut.
He hadn't called or Skyped Teddy in months.
He deserved everything he was getting really.
His phone buzzed, sparking him out his train of thought. he assumed it was Dustin or Eden.
However it was from Dolph.
hey man, sup? You looked so down at Raw tonight? Wanna chat? : )
Cody snickered humourlessly. When did Dolph care so much? He was a casual acquaintance at best since they'd fucked and agreed to never discuss it again seeing as Randy caught them post-coital. And Dolph had practically run for the hills when Cody had made a pass at him not so long ago. Oh he was an idiot. Still, a friend was a friend. And Cody could use some ears right now. Curtis was strictly indisposed (i.e. on the end of Ryback's dick) for the night. Dustin was probably on the phone to his daughter..why not?
He tapped a message back.
Yeah if u want. in my room. Think there's some beers in the mini bar. Thanks Nicky : )
Dolph replied instantly.
On way. 208 isn't it? : )
Cody replied in the affirmative. But he was just in his briefs. Should he put sweatpants on? Nah. Dolph had seen it all before.
A knock sounded five minutes later. Cody shut his laptop and padded to the door.
"Hey."
DOlph;s eyes widened. OK he had not anticipated seeing Cody in tiny blue briefs.
"Hey man...hot in there?"
Cody shrugged.
"Come in?"
Dolph strolled in, his blonde hair tied neatly back and sporting a shocking pink tee and grey sweatpants. He still looked good. Smelled like he'd showered.
Cody perched back on the bed.
Dolph smirked a little as he clocked the ravenette's smooth legs open and every bulge visible. Cody was still hot as fuck.
"How you been?" asked the blonde.
"Shit," Cody admitted, "Feel like he's died, Nicky."
"Bad breakup, it happens," Dolph said, "You can't look back on the past all the time man. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. I mean, you guys were best buds for the best part of six or so years, right?"
"Yeah," Cody nodded sadly.
"Maybe you should have stayed that way?" suggested Dolph, "Or buddies with benefits. FUck buddies maybe. I mean...no expert on that stuff, but that way you get the best of both."
"What self help book you quoting from?" scoffed Cody, "Cos it's clichéd shit whatever it is."
"Sorry man, like I said, no expert," Dolph replied, "Miz likes to ask me for advice too."
"Sure he's not after something else?" snorted Cody.
"Hey c'mon man, not cool," Dolph admonished, "You really have it in for him don't you? Mike's my buddy. Don't slag him off or I'm gonna take off. There's a hot waitress downstairs who I fancy smashing."
"Don't let me cock block you!" Cody erupted.
"Relax!" Dolph said, "Jesus man, you always jump down people's throats."
"Sorry," Cody mumbled, the kicked-puppy expression on his face once more, "Natural reaction. Beer?"
"Minibar prices?" Dolph raised his eyebrows.
Cody shrugged.
He padded to the minibar and bent down, ass right in front of Dolph as he picked out the two bottle of beer that the hotel had supplied. Pathetic.
Dolph couldn't help but check that booty out. Damn Cody was a hot piece of ass still. Those briefs barely covered it. He mentally slapped himself.
Cody uncapped the bottles and handed one to the blonde.
"Thanks man," Dolph said, "Like I said, ears open."
Cody took a huge gulp of his beer.
"Been looking through old photos," he said, "Just makes it worse Nicky...we have so much history...I can't just close the door.."
"Don't blame you," Dolph replied, "But don't they say everything happens for a reason?"
"Yeah.." Cody sighed, "I miss him so much. He's the only guy I've ever dated who truly 'got' me. Could be myself around. Even with Teddy I had to tone stuff down."
"What is yourself these days?" asked DOlph.
"Whaddya mean?"
"I always thought of you as the nerdy guy who also happened to be a screaming queen...no shade or anything, but that's just how you always came across...but now you act like you're on Mean Girls...you're horrible to pretty much everyone except Axel."
Cody looked at the duvet sadly. Dolph was right. He was queeny before, but stayed true to his comic book and video game nerd self most of the time. Now, however...
"I've been a total bitch," he confessed, "Feel like...I have to act the stereotype...young gays are so vicious now...I use all the lingo like YAAAS, slay, bye Felicia, stay pressed and all that crap...I don't even know what half of it means."
"You're an old soul," Dolph remarked, "Is it true you go on that site...what is it called...?"
"Heartbreakers?" Cody asked, "Yeah...but I don't go on there to discuss women;'s wrestling...I basically go on there and drag Layla through the mud...in fact drag the whole roster except for Alicia, Tamina, Paige and Natalya."
"Why? C'mon man, that's not cool...those are coworkers...you don't have to be a fan of everyone but to go and rip them to pieces online under a fake name..."
"Passes the time," Cody said, "And I get to interact with fans. They don't like the Total Divas. Neither do I. Makes a total mockery of women like Bull Nakano, Mae, Leilani Kei...Jackie Moore, Ivory..Molly...and all the others who worked their butts off to get women noticed only for some talentless, zero personality hack like Eva Marie to swan in from the bikini modelling scene and take more deserving girls' spots."
"So why not say that rather than bitching?" Dolph said.
Cody shrugged.
"And what is it you have against Layla anyway man? Thought you and her were close."
Cody sighed long and hard.
"She went AWOL for six months and expected me and Joshy to carry on like it was nothing...that hurt, Nicky. Like our friendship meant nothing."
"But that's high school stuff man!" Dolph said.
"How would YOU feel if you had a best friend who you'd been there for all those years and she just turned around and ignored you? It means a lot to me!"
"OK, OK...it's your choice man," Dolph said, "So why the queen bee stuff? Please tell me you're not still carrying that burn book around?"
"No..."
"Whatever. C'mon man it might have been cute when you were a babyfaced rookie but you're upper mid card, occasional main eventer now!"
"I don't still do it! Anyway Joshy has it stashed at his mom's house in Indiana."
Cody drained his beer bottle.
Dolph did the same.
Should he make a move? Been a long, long time since he'd dallied with a dude and that waitress downstairs was a hottie, but looked like any other regular Hooters girl. And he was basically presented with an open goal here. Cody was lonely. Vulnerable. And in a tiny pair of 2Exist briefs. Dolph couldn't have played his hand better. And he was doing a coworker buddy (sort-of) a favour. Better than being hit up by an anonymous chump who could sell his story about banging a wrestler.
Cody looked over at the blonde.
"Wait a sec..." he began.
Dolph smirked at him.
"C'mon man," he said, "Took ya long enough to figure it out. And you made it so easy for me."
"Five years are a long time," Cody replied, opening his legs a little, "And...I did make a pass at you recently didn't I Nicky?"
"You sure did," Dolph smirked, wriggling closer to his prey, "Think of this as a delayed reaction. Now why don't you come here and give us a damn kiss."
"Ain't moving for no man," sassed Cody, now grinning, "So get your hot self right over here."
Why not.
After all. They were red blooded men.
What had Cody got to lose?
He should have guessed it from the text. Dolph was not the sort of guy whose shoulder you cried on. He was brash, cocky, sure of himself, and a casual womaniser. He was sassy but in a manly way. Confidence was extremely hot.
Dolph crawled across the bed to the hunk in briefs and began to make out with him, Cody kissing him fiercely back, determined to wipe every thought of the ex he ached for out of his mind. A hot blonde hunk had come up with the intention to fuck him silly. He would be a fool not to take it. He grabbed Dolph's amazing ass through those grey sweats. MMMM. He had fun grabbing that in 09 when Dolph pounded him. He'd screamed. And scratched.
"Damn you're thirsty," gasped Dolph, "DiBiase must have done something right to keep you for five years. Why now?"
"Because you were hot then and you keep getting hotter," Cody said, preferring to omit the truth about having a painful crush for Josh, "Plus, I needed something fresh back then. But now... I can keep you if I want to."
Dolph grabbed the brief-clad ass.
"Such a hot ass," he growled, "Only guy...apart from me...who can twerk like a bitch and look hot as fuck doing so.."
He spanked Cody hard.
Cody moaned like a whore.
"Best butts in this business," he whined, "Which is why me and you should be together...lets see how tonight goes...(he moaned loud as Dolph spanked him once more) Oh FUCK!"
"Gonna give me a show?" rasped Dolph.
Cody wriggled out from beneath him before standing in front of the bed.
"Damn you have the best legs I've ever seen on a dude," the blonde continued.
Cody stood with his legs apart and began to twerk his blue-clad ass, enjoying the attention immensely. Yeah some could accuse him of being Jekyll and Hyde...but who wouldn't turn down Dolph Ziggler?
Dolph's mouth was open. How hot was this?
He lowered his track pants and began to play with his hardon.
"Oh fuck yeah," he groaned, "How are you Dusty's boy...where did you get those looks..."
Cody just smirked cockily as he began to slowly lower his briefs...moving his body low...legs apart, performing an almost Melina (yuck)-esque split...the only time Cody would EVER emulate that trollop...he gracefully swung his body down and removed his briefs, turning to face Dolph and straddling his lap, keeping his ass above Dolph's cock and using the briefs like a stripper's stocking, rubbing them around the back of Dolph's neck.
Dolph was trying so hard to not jerk off. This guy should be in porn! He was hot five years ago...now...he was even sluttier...and that was hotter. He grabbed the minx and began to heavily make out with him, Cody whining against his lips.
Cody's brains were firmly in his cock now. His misery long forgotten (or temporarily obscured) and replaced with lust. A man making him feel truly sexy.
Dolph wriggled back, supporting the 215 pound weight and continued to kiss Cody, kicking off his grey sweatpants completely so he was naked apart from his tee.
Cody kneeled up, jerking their cocks together. Dolph was nicely endowed but he, Cody was bigger. But...Dolph knew how to use every damn inch.
"Fuck," moaned Dolph at the contact, "Forget how...big you are down there man..."
"It only gets bigger," moaned Cody, "And you're still sticking yours in me."
"You're a fucking pussyboy," moaned Dolph appreciatively.
"Always have been Nicky. By the way, my undies. Present for you. Keep them."
As always, every one of his fucks of late was given his underwear as a parting gift.
Dolph began to remove his tee so he too, was naked. He took his hair down as well. He was surprised when Cody shoved him flat on the bed, pinning him down before attacking him with more kisses.
"Damn, you sure are forceful," he grunted.
"I know what I like," Cody purred, crawling down Dolph's perfect, fat-free body, worshipping every inch, planting kisses over those pecs, abs...cut hips...before taking Dolph into his mouth hungrily and moaning with relief at tasting cock again. Cody's slutty side had well and truly been unleashed once more. The cute boy was forgotten. All he cared about right now was getting fucked.
Dolph cursed and groaned with pleasure at the hot mouth servicing him...he'd forgotten how amazing Cody was at head. Oh fuck. He was thrusting into the relentless mouth...oh FUCK! Deep throating and everything.
Cody released Dolph and grinned.
"Remembered?" he purred, "No gag reflex Nicky."
He resumed sucking Dolph off, licking the tip and relishing the strangled cries of his trick for the night.
"And," he said, pausing again, using his free hand to play with Dolph's balls, "I'll always be here sweetie. You want relief...give me a call...hand...throat or ass...wherever you fancy shooting your load.."
Dolph was in heaven. You couldn't pay for attention this good. Fuck. If Cody was an escort he'd be a billionaire. He just knew how to suck a dick. And make a man feel amazing. If Dolph was on booking, he'd put the WWE World Heavyweight title on Cody for this blowjob alone.
"You got any lube in here boyo cos I wanna fuck that ass hard," he growled.
"Always," Cody said, bending over naughtily, "If you wanna lick me out, knock yourself out. I like having my pussy eaten."
Dolph smirked. He also knew how to talk in bed too. Another thing he remembered from 09.
He leaned forward, parted those smooth, perfect globes of flesh and began to rim Cody, enjoying the immodest wails of ecstasy, Cody reaching for the hotel room chair for support. Oh fuck...tongue game ten out of ten...hell twenty out of ten.
Dolph removed his head and lay back, idly playing with himself as Cody rummaged for the lube. And poppers.
He took a huge sniff and tossed the bottle to Dolph.
"Want some amyl?" Cody asked.
"None for me thanks man," the blonde said, uncapping the lubricant and coating himself liberally.
"Lube's not essential sweetie but it's been a while," purred Cody, sucking two fingers and moaning whorishly as he began to scissor his ass whilst Dolph lubed up.
"How do ya want it?" asked Dolph.
Cody lay on his back, legs raised.
"Pound me stud," he purred, "Let that aggression at not being pushed out. Take it out on my hole."
Oh fuck. Cody would wish he never asked.
Dolph scuttled around and kneeled between those amazing pins.
"Don't be afraid to spank or hit me, I like to wear my bruises," Cody purred, rubbing a foot against Dolph's pecs.
"last time you ordered me around like a damn dominatrix," Dolph smirked, lining his cock against that tight opening and teasing it, enjoying the moans.
"Hurry the fuck up!" snarled Cody.
"See?" Dolph grinned and pushed his cock inside...oh yes, like riding a bike, so to speak. Fucking a dude was still easy.
"OH NICKY!"
Cody was NOT modest.
Only one beer but on poppers...he was a hot mess.
Fuck! Dolph was touching his spot! He wasn't as thick as Josh but longer...oh yes. He was a jackrabbit...athletic in bed. Pound him! Make him forget. Please make him forget.
"You said you like it missionary cos it blows your g-spot," snarled Dolph, pushing all the way inside to the hilt, those long, silken legs resting on his shoulders.
Instantly the blonde began to thrust in and out HARD. Oh yeah. He needed a willing ass to fuck. Sometimes it was just what the doctor ordered. Fuck yeah. And Cody could take it and more. He was a slut and DOlph fucking loved that.
Cody grabbed the poppers and inhaled deeply before continuing to emit sharp wail after sharp wail. Oh yes! Fuck him! Fuck him hard! Rape him if you must.
As Dolph thrust in he reached up and grabbed the bleached locks hard.
"OW!" Dolph gasped.
"Nicky.." Cody whispered, clenching his ass muscle around Dolph's cock, "Make me your little bitch."
Dolph just grinned and began to long-fuck Cody, enjoying the wails now bouncing off the walls. Damn Cody was acting like he'd not had sex for years. Oh yeah. He didn't mind the racket. Better than laying there like a wet lettuce. He liked his men and women to scream, did Dolph.
"Oh fuck me Nick...please...fuck me..."
"Damn...hungry..."
"FUCK! YES! THERE!"
Now Cody was screaming.
DOlph continued to jackrabbit the younger man, holding the legs wide apart to really fuck him. He however, wanted to bend Cody over and do him from behind. Pull his hair. Spank him.
And watch that perfect bubble butt jiggle.
He pulled out.
Cody smirked.
Just like 09.
He rolled over. Face down. Ass up. Cheeks held apart. He knew what he wanted.
DOlph re-entered and began to really go to town, spanking Cody. Damn that ass was illegal...oh fuck yeah...scream bitch, scream.
"Pull my hair!" squeaked Cody.
Dolph reached down and yanked the short raven locks, pulling Cody back in the most delicious wanton arch.
Cody's screams got louder. His spot was being hit perfect. More! More!
But he needed Dolph to make him cum.
And he wanted that on his back.
"OH YES! OH YESS! FUCK ME! FUCK ME YOU ATHLETIC STUD!"
Dolph was sensing that Cody was maybe laying it on just a bit...but did he care? Fuck no. He was getting his rocks off.
"Stop...Nicky...stop..."
"What's the matter?"
"Need to be on my back sweetie..."
"Sure..."
Dolph pulled out. He could have blown his load watched Cody's perfect ass work his dick but oh well. Cody's hotel room. Cody called the shots.
Cody wriggled around, folding himself in half, holding his legs open.
Dolph squirted some more lubricant on himself...and then he finally realised something...oh fuck...they'd been doing it without a rubber...holy shit...in their haste...he'd forgotten that crucial moment. Fuck!
"What's the matter Nicky?" panted Cody.
"We're...you...I...no rubber..."
"I'm negative Nicky."
"OK..." Dolph was a little reassured. Almost. Oh well. He'll take this risk.
He jerked his cock back to full hardness and re-entered Cody for the final time, resuming his powerhouse rhythm, enjoying Cody's wails.
But...Cody's mind was wandering...the athletic, handsome, tall blonde was morphing...into a tattooed...lean...shorter...brunette...the cocky smirk replaced by more cherubic features...Cody was imagining it was Josh...it was no use...the bareback sex...the position...
"Oh fuck.,...Oh yes..."
Now Cody was really screaming, lost in the fantasy...sorry Dolph...
Dolph was too busy trying to get off to care about the finer details...he was good...Cody was taking it like a champ...who cared...
Cody's orgasm was thundering closer...picturing Josh was actually a catalyst...imagine what people would say that he fantasised about Josh Mathews whilst being fucked by Dolph...
"OH JOSHY!"
Dolph was taken aback as Cody's scream echoed around the room and was surely heard by the entire floor...the ravenette was twitching and semen was squiriting all over his abs and pectorals...Dolph was too far gone...fuck...he was hoping to pull out of Cody...he cursed and cried out, driving deep inside the tight ass as he too exploded, filling Cody.
Cody was gasping, limbs like jelly and all splayed out. His eyes shut, lips parted. Chest rising and falling.
Dolph had to admit that was one hell of a blow to his ego. OK he'd still gotten a wild fuck. But really? Shrimpy Mathews over him? Cody was fucking deranged in his opinion. Well, that was a load blown. He could get the fuck out and back to his room. He pulled out of Cody and began to wipe himself down.
And he'd also forgotten just how heavy a cummer Cody was. Like a fountain. Never-ending. This had been hot sex until then. Dolph began to hastily dress.
"Where you off to Nicky?" murmured the sated ravenette.
"Back to my room," Dolph said.
But the sound of a keycard in the door caused both men to freeze in their tracks. Who was that?
Oh fuck.
Cody remembered. He'd given Dustin a spare key in case he was feeling really upset about stuff and wanted to talk to someone.
Dolph froze as the door opened and in walked Goldust.
Instantly Cody grabbed the pillow to cover his modesty, Dolph luckily managing to get his sweats up this time. Seriously? Again? Someone walking in? Both times?! This was a joke. Once was bad enough. Twice. Was this for real? Bad luck certainly did strike in threes. First his conquest screamed his EX's name whilst shooting his wade...and secondly, said conquest's Attitude Era star elder brother just walked in! You couldn't make this shit up!
"What the fuck is going on?" demanded Dustin.
"What's it look like?" snarked Cody, still sweaty and gasping.
Goldust choked back sick. The place reeked of sweat and sex. There were some things you definitely didn't want to witness your little brother doing. He turned his back to them.
"Ziggler. Get the fuck out this room!" he ordered.
"Going anyway," muttered Dolph, pulling his tee on back to front and checking for his phone before scurrying out the room. That. Was close. Too close. Never again. Maybe in 2019. If he still had the urge. oh well. It had been a good fuck while it lasted.
"What the fuck you playing at Cody?"
"Oh thanks a fucking BUNCH Dustin! You're an ASSHOLE!" screamed Cody.
"You gave me the key, remember?" challenged Dustin, "In case you were feeling shitty and needed to talk. Heard you yelling...thought night terrors had come back..."
"I'm a grown man, Dustin, I can fuck who I like!" retorted Cody.
"Oh really," Dustin said, still with his back to his brother, "Stop behaving like a child then. Put some fucking clothes on for god-damn's sakes."
Cody huffed and padded to his bag to find some shorts or something. He found his sweatpants and Spiderman hoodie from earlier. Ew. Sticky. Never mind. He covered up and sat defiantly on the bed, folding his muscular arms.
Dustin turned and sighed with relief when he saw Cody was completely covered up.
"What do you want Dustin? Thanks for wrecking my night, damnit."
"Worth it, was it?"
"You always fucking lecture me!"
"Because one minute you're bawling your eyes out over that spiky haired little shrimp, next you're fucking random coworkers and screaming like some two bit whore so the whole hotel can hear?!"
"Pervert."
"Didn't need to listen to hear the disgusting noise you were making. I never want to hear that shit again. And in fucking GEORGIA! You should be at HOME, Cody. With your WIFE!"
"Fuck her," Cody snapped.
"You're such a brat, you know that?"
"Bite my ass, Dustin."
"Not funny, Cody."
"Whatever. Old man. You gonna get the fuck out before I call my next trick?"
Dustin felt sick.
He glared at the ravenette.
"I'm not joking Dustin. Get the fuck out my hotel room!"
"Won't solve anything, you know."
"How would you know? You probably haven't gotten any in years!"
"My personal life is my business, Cody. As is my brother making a total ass of himself. Ziggler didn't appreciate you screaming Josh's name at fifteen thousand decibels then?"
Cody went scarlet.
So he'd screamed it out loud.
Oh fuck...he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.
Dustin softened a little.
"GET OUT!" cried Cody, "GO ON! GET OUT!"
"Cody...it's OK...you're mixed up...you want answers which you're not getting."
"YOU DON'T CARE! NOBODY CARES ABOUT ME! EVERYONE'S TOO BUSY GOING 'OH POOR CENA, POOR ORTON! OH LOOK HOW HOT WADE AND SHEAMUS ARE!' I HAVE TO LISTEN TO BARRETT BRAGGING ABOUT SHEAMUS EVERY GOD DAMN DAY, DUSTIN! PEOPLE RUBBING IT IN MY FACE!"
Dustin could tell his little brother was seriously cracking up.,
"I lost the love of my life..." Cody's eyes were streaming now, "I don't want to be here...Zayn and Paige here just make it harder...cos...they're with him...it's not fair...I don't wanna...be here...should...ask for my release.."
"Don't talk shit Cody," Dustin said, "You're here because you're talented and hopefully finally getting the push you've more than earned."
"REALLY?" erupted Cody, "Really? Losing streak as long as fucking Ryder's? Yeah right!"
He threw himself face down on the bed, defeated.
Dustin rubbed his brother's back.
"WHy me Dustin...why does nobody care...Nicky...Ziggler I mean...acted like he wanted to listen...he just wanted a piece of me..."
"But you could have said no," his brother reminded him, "Hate to say it but it takes two to tango."
Cody felt dirty and used. He did give it all 'yeah why not' but it was because Dolph had reeled him in and he had attention and wanted to make the most of it..
"I'm such a whore..." he lamented, punching the bed.
"No you're not...you got some attention and he buttered you up, everyone makes a mistake," Dustin sympathised, "You punctured his ego good. In a messed up way, but still. You should talk to him."
"Don't want nothing from Ziggler," Cody mumbled.
"I meant..Josh."
"Do I have to? Who's gonna give a shit?"
"How about the people that matter? You and him. You're so fixated on what the roster thinks..."
Hopefully this chapter was good enough for all you Shade fans. New one-off pairing in Coddles/Ziggles (hot pair IMO even if nobody else agrees) to spice things up. Was going to incorporate NXT Takeover seeing as you liked Samdrian so much but with Payback tonight I ran out of space and time before it became a massive epic. Payback and Takeover drama will happen next time!
Miz still isn't on TV but on the house shows, and I miss him and Cesaro which is why they appeared hehe.
So Randy and John still carry torches for one another...but John's in too deep and Randy's big mouth will ensure he always cocks shit up for himself. Still no drama and loads of fun in Shade camp though! I think they're rock solid. Nobody is a threat to them. Not even Daniel anymore. Zack is clearly a nutjob. He knows he's pushed his luck with John with the knife episode in London. How long before Randy goes in for the kill? We shall see.
Hope you enjoyed this anyway!