Ok, so 'Dirty Deeds' is going to be where I put all my smutty, slashy oneshots. It'll also probably be where I dump all of the plot bunnies I can't get out of my head. Unfortunately, this will not be updated as regularly as my chaptered fics, but I'll probably try at least to make a weekly addition—hopefully more, but no promises.

PLEASE, BY ALL MEANS, MAKE REQUESTS! I love giving my readers what they want. Unfortunately, however, I have to really like a couple to devote a oneshot to them, so I won't be able to do every request I get. I'll let you know if I accept or deny your request, so no worries. Feel free to request a pairing, plotline, or any type of kink you want. Like I said, I like giving my readers what they want.

Also, I do tend to favor Jeff Hardy and Randy Orton, so any pairing that includes one of them is about a hundred times more likely to get done then ones that don't have them (there are exceptions to this, of course). You can expect to see lots of Cena/Randy, Edge/Randy, Edge/Jeff, and Hardycest, as those are my favorites to write. Thanks for reading, and please review!

1. Intoxicating—Cena/Randy, Centon

The club was packed. Scantily clad men and women crowded the small dance area, twisting and thrusting their bodies to the heavy beat of hip hop music. The music was so loud that the words of the song were indiscernible over the wall-shaking bass thump, but no one seemed to care. The words didn't matter, it was the beat that was pulsing through everyone's veins. The mass of shaking, rolling, jerking, turning, bodies was so crowded together that it was difficult to perceive where one body ended and another began. Arms waved in the air, legs planted firmly to the ground, and stomachs were swaying from side to side as the tangle of people feverishly danced.

Thin smoke—born from both a generator and from multiple cigarettes—softly floated through the air, clogging the vision of everyone it passed. It was dark, but there were pulsing, vibrant strobe lights that lit the room every few seconds or so. All of this combined to create a surreal effect, turning the hot club into some sort of ethereal place where everything seemed both real and imagined at the same time. It just was. A bar stood on the opposite side of the entrance, and drunken bodies were swarming it, eagerly throwing their bills to the counter and demanding more and more alcohol. On the left side of the full dance floor were rows of tall tables. No chairs; patrons taking a break from dancing or taking a chance to drown themselves in alcohol were expected to stand at the black, metal tables.

And it was at one of those tables that John Cena stood. The Champ was dressed in simple blue jeans with a white top and carefully coordinated white shoes. His back was to the dance floor as he stood at the table, a few shots of whiskey sitting in front of him. He'd already done a few, and had been considering stopping when his good friends Ted DiBiase and Cody Rhodes returned with several more, loudly proclaiming that the night was not yet over. Matt Hardy—dragged to the club by his brother Jeff and Jeff's boyfriend Adam—had groaned at the sight of more alcohol, and John had to agree with him. They'd been partying for a solid three hours…were their friends ever going to tire?

"Come on Matty, John, we all gotta do 'em together!" Ted slurred happily, scooping up one of the whiskey shots.

Cody complied eagerly, quickly picking up a shot for himself and looking at John and Matt expectantly.

"Guys…we been at this since eleven, I don't think—" Matt began with a deep sigh, rubbing his dark eyes tiredly.

"I think ya need another one Matty…" Ted said clumsily, smiling at the older Hardy.

"Oh really?" Matt rolled his eyes, "And why is that?"

"Because you're gonna freak when ya see Jeffy and Addy…" Ted giggled to himself. Cody quickly joined in, and the Priceless couple was beside themselves with laughter as Ted drunkenly pointed to the dance floor.

John and Matt both turned, confused looks on their faces, to see just what exactly Ted was talking about. As soon as his blue eyes hit the dance floor, John's face broke into a dimpled smirk. Matt however, suddenly looked like he'd swallowed something rotten.

A certain purple haired Hardy and his blonde boyfriend were center stage, surrounded by men—and even some women—who were egging them on gleefully. Adam was behind Jeff, and the taller man was grinding his body against Jeff's so obscenely that John felt dirty just for watching. The younger Hardy certainly wasn't helping matters; he was swaying his hips in such a way that he was just asking to get raped. There were many catcalls as the two danced against each other, their bodies practically melting into one as Jeff grinded his ass into Adam's groin, and John could see Matt's face turning redder and redder with each whistle called at his baby brother.

"I am going to fucking bury Adam in my backyard!" Matt growled.

He turned and gripped a shot glass, hurriedly tipping the dark liquid down his throat. Slamming the glass back to the metal table, Matt turned, stomping off toward his younger brother, fully intending on giving Adam a Twist of Fate right in the middle of the club.

"Uh oh…" Cody giggled goofily, "Teddy, I think we got Jeffy in trouble…"

"Alright," John looked the two younger men in the eyes, "I think you both have had enough—"

"Oh come on Cena," Cody whined, the boy trying his best to give John his puppy dog eyes, "Please do another shot with us? Pretty please?"

"Sorry Cody, that shit don't work on me." Cena grinned.

"Damn." Cody scowled, "Teddy can never resist me when I give him the look…"

"Yeah, well maybe that's because he's your boyfriend." John chuckled slightly.

"Don't be hatin' Cena…" Ted slurred, his clouded eyes glaring at Cena.

"Ok…" Cody frowned, "Maybe he has had enough…"

"Ya know what your problem is John?" Ted continued loudly, "Ya aren't drunk enough! Me and Cody and Jeff and Adam and Randy been havin' so much fun because we drink a lot…you…you and Matt just do a couple shots then stop….what…what the hell's up with that?"

"Speaking of Randy…where is our favorite Viper?" John turned his head to side, realizing that he hadn't seen his best friend in quite some time.

"Um…last time I saw him was when we were doing shots of tequila…" Cody replied slowly, wincing as he realized what he just said.

"Wait…Randy is single, probably drunk off tequila, and missing in a club full of guys?" John's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Cody…do you realize—"

"Uh…guys…" Matt Hardy walked back up to the table, Jeff in the grip of his right hand and Adam in his left. Both looked so drunk they probably didn't even know where they were at. The Enigma was giggling loudly, still dancing to the music even though his brother was holding on to him. Adam didn't look quite as happy, he was scowling like a certain someone had just ruined all his fun…but what else was new?

"Cody! Teddy!" Jeff managed to scramble out of Matt's hands, and he rushed forward, pulling the two much larger men into a tight, group hug.

"Can ya let go of me now?" Adam rolled his hazel eyes, glaring at Matt. The older Hardy reluctantly let go, and Copeland scampered away, quickly wrapping his arm around Jeff and pulling his boyfriend close against him.

"Uh, John." Matt bit his bottom lip, "I think you might want to go save Randy…"

"What?" John asked, once again confused.

"Well…" Matt turned around, pointing across the dance floor and toward the bar, "I think he's about to get himself into trouble…"

John turned, his eyes quickly scanning the club until he finally saw what Matt was pointing at. A clearly drunk Legend Killer was swaying on his feet…surrounded by what looked like three guys, who were all smiling at him in a far too friendly way. Scowling deeply, John turned and grabbed not one but two of the shots of whiskey. Not even blinking, he threw back one, and then the other, grimacing slightly as the burning liquid sloshed down his throat. Slamming both the glasses back to the table, John turned around, politely pushing past masses of warm bodies as he furiously stomped toward his intoxicated best friend.

Randy liked to drink. And when he drank…he drank a lot. That, combined with the fact that Randy oozed sex and dirty thoughts, often got him in a lot of trouble. He was extremely attractive, and—to make everything worse—he knew it. That knowledge gave Randy a confidence that made him even sexier, and because of this he often got a lot of attention when they went out. Normally, John would swallow his jealousy and force a smile whenever random guys tried their luck by flirting with Randy, but this time was different. The three men were standing around Randy in a way that made it seem like they were surrounding him, not offering him any chance of escape. The one in front of Randy—the leader of the little group, it seemed—was even going so far as to place a hand on Randy's hip, drawing the Viper closer. And poor Randy was too drunk to realize the disturbing way all three men were smirking at him…

John jutted his chin out defiantly as he approached, his hands curled into fists. The two men on the side must've seen the rage in his eyes, because they both took a step back, holding their hands up defensively as if to prove they weren't touching anything they shouldn't be. The third man, a blonde with a sly smile, took no notice of Cena. He simply stared at Randy, his hand gripping Randy's hip and holding the Legend Killer near him. If he had been sober, Randy would've surely seen the warning signs: two friends to keep a lookout, a hand holding him in place, the blonde's eyes traveling up and down Randy's body…any idiot could see that the blonde had plans for Randy.

"Randy." John stepped forward, pushing his way past the two men on the side, making sure to enter Randy's range of vision.

"John!" Randy's face broke into an amazingly handsome, if not slightly crooked, smile as he realized his best friend was there, "Hey John, how're ya doin'?"

Poor thing. Still didn't realize he had been hunted like a piece of meat… As soon as Randy said John's name, the blonde finally turned, his brown eyes narrowing as they focused in on Cena. He scowled deeply, realizing immediately that he had run into some competition.

"I'm fine Randy." John tried his best to keep his voice steady, despite the fury and alcohol flowing through his veins, "Actually, I came to get you because we're leaving." A lie, of course. But that didn't matter; Randy was so drunk he probably wouldn't realize Cena wasn't telling the truth. The three surrounding him, however, were keenly aware of the game he was playing.

"We're leavin'?" Randy turned to the side, facing Cena instead of the blonde, "But it's still early…"

The blonde scowled even deeper, clearly displeased that his prey was giving John all the attention.

"I don't think he wants to go yet." The blonde growled, glaring at Cena. His grip on Randy's hip tightened, and he pushed him slightly, forcing Orton to face him.

Randy laughed a little, leaning into the man's touch, "Yeah John…let's stay longer…"

The sight of Randy pushing his body against the blonde was enough to make John see red. Letting out a small growl of frustration and anger, he reached out, his strong hand easily wrapping around Randy's tattooed wrist. Tugging on Randy's arm, John pulled his best friend away from the blonde. Randy stumbled slightly from the sudden change of momentum, but he offered no protest when John pulled his body against him, wrapping an arm protectively around Orton. In fact, Randy seemed to lean into John's hold, his hard body pressing up against John's abdomen.

"We're leaving." John snarled, daring the men to object. The two on the side seemed to get the hint, but the blonde continued to stare at him defiantly.

"If you wanted a whore for yourself…" The blonde hissed slowly, "Then you should've gone and gotten your own…I saw this one first!"

The rage John had felt before was nothing compared to what he felt when the blonde dared to call Randy a whore. Sure, Randy had made a mistake by drinking too much…but the blonde had hunted him down! He'd practically cornered Randy and had been forcing himself on him before John showed up! How on earth was Randy a whore in this situation? If he had cornered this man alone…if there weren't so many people around…John would've beaten him to a bloody mess for what he said about his best friend. But he didn't do that. Instead, he let go of Randy and stomped forward. Reaching up, he grabbed the blonde by the collar, forcing the man against the wall and holding him there. The man struggled slightly, yelping as John held him still, but he couldn't escape Cena's tight hold.

"You don't fucking call him that." John growled lowly, his blue eyes glaring at the blonde with silent fury, "I know what you were thinking. You were going to use him—"

"Yeah? Is that what I was going to do?" The blonde laughed darkly, "Don't act so self-righteous you fucking prick. I saw the way you were looking at him when you walked up. You'd do the same thing as me if he'd let you…"

John opened his mouth to angrily tell the man to shove it, but—as his thick arms held the blonde against the wall—he realized there was a small ounce of truth in what he had said.

The blonde laughed again, a hollow sound, "See? You walk in here and act like you're better then me, but you ain't. You'd fuck the shit out of him—"

"You fucking listen to me." John roared, teeth bared, "He's mine, you fucking got that? If I ever see you within ten feet of him again I'll fucking beat your face into the wall!"

The man didn't answer. He simply narrowed his brown eyes, glaring at John with a mixture of anger and defeat. He seemed to have finally understood that Cena was serious, and he wasn't going to be able to change his mind.

"John?" Randy whimpered weakly, his blue eyes clouded with liquor as he looked at his clearly agitated best friend. John turned, letting go of the useless blonde in front of him, his own blue eyes meeting Randy's. Along with worry, Cena saw a small amount of fear in his eyes, and it made his heart sink, knowing that something he had done had scared Randy. Or maybe Randy had finally realized how much danger he had been in earlier…

"Come on Randy," John said tiredly, reaching forward and placing a hand on Orton's shoulder, "We need to go."

"What about…the others?" Randy's mind was a swirling mess of alcohol, but he still remembered that he and John had come to the club with several friends.

"Don't worry about them." John sighed, steering Randy away from the men, "They'll be fine."

Back at the club, John had correctly guessed that Randy was way too drunk to be in the company of strangers. That had become more and more obvious as John helped Randy walk—or rather, stumble—across the floral patterned carpet and to his hotel room. It wasn't long before Randy was clinging to John, his tattooed arms wrapped around John's waist, as he dragged one foot after another, trying his hardest not to fall. Luckily, Randy was only on the second floor, so it was a very short elevator ride, and they didn't have far to walk. But each step required more and more effort on John's part, as Randy was quickly losing what little motor control he had left after gulping down tequila, vodka, and who knows what else.

"John…" Randy slurred slowly, eyes unfocused, "John…where are we goin'?"

"To your room, Randy." John sighed softly, walking slowly, "Remember?"

"John…the floor's moving…" Randy said incredulously, his blue eyes widening.

"The floor isn't moving, you are." John gave a small chuckle.

"Oh…the walls are moving too…" Randy continued, looking around.

"Yeah, well that's also because—you know what? Never mind." John shook his head, not bothering, "We're at your door anyway."

John let go of Randy, allowing the extremely intoxicated man to slide against the wall, using it to brace himself. Randy didn't seem capable of standing on his own any longer. The tall, tan man slumped against the drywall, his head rolling from side to side as his icy blue eyes attempted to focus themselves. Randy absolutely reeked of alcohol, John could smell tequila on him most, with some vodka and perhaps rum as well.

"Randy, where's—" John began.

Randy acted so quickly he ended up completely catching John off guard. The Viper reached forward, his skilled fingers gripping the front of John's white shirt. Without warning he tugged, yanking Cena forward. Before John had any time to react, Randy pressed his lips against his mouth, and all John could feel was Randy's warm tongue pushing against his lips, begging for entrance. Cena's mind went numb and he froze, his entire body going rigid. That didn't seem to bother Randy, though, because the younger man was moving his lips against John's mouth like his life depended on it. And then John felt Randy's teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and he let out a gasp of surprise. Randy seized the opportunity, and he forced his tongue forward, probing into John's hot mouth.

A voice in the back of Cena's head was screaming at him, telling him that this was his best friend he was kissing, but John completely ignored that voice, finally melting into the kiss. Moaning slightly, he pushed forward, shoving his own mouth against Randy's, relishing the whimper of surprise Randy let out as John's mouth dominated his. Cena pressed his tongue forward then, forcing it into Randy's mouth, his knees nearly going weak as he felt Randy's own hot, wet tongue sliding against his. And then Randy pulled on his shirt again, and John shoved his body forward, a loud thump sounding out as he pushed Randy's body up against the wall. The younger man gasped at that, and John held him in place, his lips pressed up against Randy's.

His brain going crazy with lust and confusion, John placed his hands on Randy's hips, and he pulled him toward his own body, thrusting his own hips forward as he did so. Randy moaned at that, the deep, throaty sound vibrating past his mouth, and his lips slid away from John's. Cena hissed in pleasure as Randy worked his lips along John's jaw and down to his neck, sucking and biting gently on the hot skin of John's throat. The feeling of Randy's warm tongue sliding against his flesh nearly drove John mad. Growling in need, he yanked Randy's hips forward again, pulling Randy's groin across the hardness in his own pants. The jeans had grown uncomfortably tight in the past few minutes, and the sensation of Randy bucking his hips into John's erection was practically mind numbing.

"John…" Randy whined, his lips moving across John's neck as he thrust his hips forward, pushing himself into Cena's hard on.

It was with that single word that John's mind snapped back to reality. A jolt running through his body, Cena suddenly realized that he was making out—making out intensely—with his best friend. His best friend…someone who should've been completely off limits. Panic flowing through his veins, John pulled back suddenly, looking down at Randy with shock and disbelief in his eyes. Not only was it his best friend he had been feeling up, but it was his extremely drunk best friend. Shit…the man in the club had been right…

"Randy, Randy stop." John said, his voice shaking slightly as he pushed Orton away.

"Come on John," Randy was licking his lips, looking up at John with pure lust in his pale eyes, "Nobody has to know…"

"No, Randy." John shook his head, summoning all the willpower he possessed. Randy was looking up at him with such desire it was almost painful to deny him…especially when his tongue flicked across his lips, wetting them innocently…

"Don't tell me you don't want me." Randy smirked, his eyes traveling downward and landing on the tent between John's legs.

"That doesn't…" John scowled deeply, "Randy, you're drunk. I'm not…I'm not going to take advantage of you—"

"But John…" Randy whined, placing his hands on John's waist. His slender fingers expertly worked their way up John's shirt, and the older man suppressed a shudder as Randy's hands ghosted over his stomach.

"I said no, Randy!" John hissed, batting away Randy's hands angrily, "I'm not going to let this fucking happen when you're drunk. Now, where's your room key?"

Randy smirked before turning around and sliding the key card out of his back pocket, making sure that Cena knew exactly where it was coming from. He faced the door then, sliding the card through the lock effortlessly, and then he pushed the door open, drunkenly stumbling in. Barely four steps into the room and Randy almost fell over his own feet. John rushed forward, however, and he managed to catch the Legend Killer before he fell.

"Watch yourself." John said sternly, wrapping an arm around Randy's shoulders and leading him toward the unmade bed. The hotel comforters were of a bland, navy blue color, and the matching sheets and pillows were scattered across the bed and floor. Apparently the maid hadn't shown up…

Randy half lay, half fell onto the bed once John released him, his tan body stretching across the blue sheets lazily, a handsome grin crossing his face. To John's horror, he reached up and slowly peeled his shirt off, taking special care to make sure that John saw every inch of his six-pack and his inked biceps. Cena swallowed dryly as Randy laid back, his bare torso bright against the dark sheets. Randy then kicked off his shoes, and an uncomfortable silence entered the room as John stared down at his half naked friend.

"Are you going to be ok, Randy?" John asked almost suspiciously, his blue eyes narrowing.

"Nope. The room's spinnin'…I can't walk straight…and you won't give me what I want." Randy grumbled, sort of laughing and complaining at the same time.

"Randy," John sighed tiredly, "You only want me because you're drunk—"

"What's the matter, John?" Randy drew his hands up, his own fingers sliding across the rippling muscles of his abdomen, "Don't you want me?"

John gulped as Randy continued touching himself, expert fingers drawing across the tan skin of his tight stomach. And then Randy's fingers traveled upward, and John's cock grew painfully stiff as Randy began sucking on two of his fingers. His lips wrapping around his own fingers, Randy kept his eyes on John as he sucked, letting out a soft, slutty moan as his tongue darted out, flicking against his own skin. Cena actually had to shift his weight on his feet, his dick was so swollen, and it took every ounce of self control he had to stop himself from waltzing over and fucking Randy into oblivion. He didn't move, he merely stared as Randy suddenly pulled his fingers from his mouth. Drawing the digits across his stomach, Randy left two wet lines from his chest all the way down to his belly button.

"Randy…stop…" John murmured, but there was no conviction in his voice.

Sensing victory, Randy sat up, and then stood up, swaying as he did so. He walked toward John with an awkward, intoxicated gait, hips swaying, yet John did nothing to prevent him from approaching. John merely stood still, watching Randy with sharp eyes. As some point Randy slid down to his knees, and then he was practically crawling across the cheap carpet toward John. The sight of a half naked Randy Orton on his hands and knees and crawling toward him almost pushed John over the edge, but somehow he managed to stay still as Randy drew closer and closer. And then Randy was sitting on his knees in front of him, eye level with John's rock hard dick. He was looking up at John, blue fire in his eyes, and then his eyes fell down, looking straight ahead at John's tented pants.

"Randy…no…ah!" John gasped as Randy pulled his shirt up and pressed his lips lightly on his lower stomach, just below his navel. Randy kissed him a few more times, his lips moving clumsily and softly across the skin of John's lower belly. The sensation was so light, yet so sexual it almost made John collapse. Warm lips moving gently across skin that was only a few inches above his aching cock…

"John…" Randy murmured, placing his hands on either of John's hips as his lips moved across his skin, "You…you never notice me…"

Cena barely had time to comprehend those words before Randy reached for his belt. John didn't fight him then, no, instead he tugged his own shirt off, his heavily muscled torso suddenly exposed to the world. Randy licked his lips as he slowly unbuckled John's belt, and then he was pulling down the zipper… Randy's eyes widened slightly as he pulled John's swollen cock out of his pants, slightly impressed. John was certainly above average… Leaning forward, he reached his hand out, his fingers wrapping around the base of John's dick, earning a shudder from the older man.

John's eyes nearly rolled back into his head when Randy leaned forward and flicked his wet tongue lightly across the tip of his cock. He wanted desperately to grip Randy by the hair and shove his dick down his throat, but he willed himself to stay still, biting his bottom lip as Randy's lips sucked gently on the head of his dick. Randy sucked for a few seconds, and then he drew his lips across the underside of John's cock, his tongue lapping at the soft, hot skin.

"Randy…Randy don't…oh." John moaned lowly as Randy slid his tongue up from the base of his dick all the way to the tip, where he began sucking hard, tongue swirling around the stiff head. Randy turned his head to the side then, and John shuddered as he felt his cock pushing up against the inside of Randy's hot, velvety mouth.

"Don't what, John?" Randy asked, his throat vibrating with each word. John hissed in pleasure at that, and he subconsciously thrust his hips forward, his cock pushing against Randy's lips. Orton pulled away then, gripping John's dick with one hand, and he began pumping him up and down slowly, smirking as John's groin bucked with each pull of his hand.

"Do you want me to stop?" Randy questioned, still jerking John with his hand as he pressed his lips against the tip of John's dick, kissing the soft skin lightly. Cena didn't answer, but he did roll his hips forward, closing his eyes in ecstasy as he pushed his cock past Randy's lips and into his wet mouth. Randy didn't move though, he stayed still, his tongue lapping at the underside of the hard dick. Cena groaned slightly, and he bucked his hips some more, barely sliding his dick in and out of Randy's mouth, but it wasn't the hard, deep thrusting he was craving. Opening his eyes, he looked down at Randy, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Suck me." John growled the command, clenching his teeth.

Randy eagerly complied, widening his mouth as much as he could, and leaning forward. John almost screamed in pleasure when his dick slid down Randy's throat, the warm, hot wetness enveloping his practically bursting cock. He couldn't help himself, he reached forward, a single hand resting on the back of Randy's head. Orton leaned into in touch, and John—feeling emboldened by the gesture—gripped Randy's short, brown hair gently, pulling Randy roughly toward him. His cock shoved all the way down Randy's throat then, and John let out a deep moan as he began thrusting in and out, his now wet dick fucking Randy's throat.

"Fuck…Randy!" John moaned, thrusting his hips forward.

Randy was sucking as hard as he could, hollowing out his cheeks as John's cock rammed in and out of his throat, and to John's surprise he moaned as well, his throat vibrating against John's dick. The heat and the vibrations were almost too much, and John could feel the heat between his legs building up. Randy must've known he was about to blow soon, because he pulled away suddenly, John's cock making a soft popping sound as it was pulled from his mouth. Cena looked down at him questioningly, panting, his dick begging for attention, but he remained still, wondering why Randy had stopped. It didn't take long for him to figure it out: Randy stood and turned, walking very, very slowly toward the bed. Orton reached down and began unbuckling his belt when he looked over his shoulder, smirking sexily at John, his blue eyes half lidded over.

"What're you waitin' for?" Randy asked.

John walked forward then, closely following behind Randy. Orton lay down on the bed, tugging his jeans off as he did so. To John's surprise, Randy was not wearing any underwear. His thick dick sprang into view as he pulled his jeans down. Randy laid down on his back, pushing his legs apart slightly, still smirking as he looked up at John expectantly. He was quite the sight: his lean, muscled body was incredibly sexy, and John could feel his hands itching to touch him. John didn't even wait for him to ask: he pulled down his jeans and his boxers at the same time, deciding that Randy would most certainly want him naked. He was right: Randy's blue eyes brightened and his smirk grew wider as he stared at John's six-pack, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

John crawled on the bed toward Randy, laying his paler body on top of Randy's own tanner, inked frame. Randy let out a soft moan as John wrapped his hands around his wrists, pinning Randy to the bed. Orton thrust his hips upward, his swollen cock brushing up against John's own dick, but still Cena did not move. He was looking down at Randy with a mixture of tenderness and pain.

"Randy…" John groaned as he felt Randy's thighs rubbing against his own, "Tell me you want this…"

"John," Randy growled, bucking his hips up again, "Fuck me. Now."

"I…I need to know we'll still be ok when you wake up in the morning." John said, looking down at Randy with sparkling blue eyes.

Randy wasn't a patient person, and this reflected when pushed his lips forward, crushing his mouth against John's, forcing his tongue past John's lips. Cena lost control then, and he let go of Randy's wrists, his body smothering Randy's. John could feel the tight muscles of their stomachs rubbing against each other as he pushed his tongue against Randy's, his lips tugging and pulling at Randy's mouth. Orton whimpered softly, and he thrust his hips up once again. This time John pushed himself against Randy too, and the feeling of their swollen cocks rubbing against each other was almost enough for John to see white.

"Wanted…wanted this for so long…" John murmured, moving his mouth to Randy's neck and sucking hard. Randy moaned in pleasure as John lapped at the small red mark left behind from his sucking

"I tried, John." Randy whispered, his tongue flicking out and grazing across John's ear, "But…but you never noticed me…"

John thought back to all those times they went out to the clubs or the bars. Randy would show up, dressed to kill, and he'd eagerly throw back as many drinks as he could. Always, always he would encourage John to do the same… And all those times Randy had been asked by other people to come home with them…he had almost always denied them… This whole time, had all that been because of John?

His mind flooding with all sorts of new thoughts and questions, John reached down, wrapping his hand around Randy's stiff cock. The younger man moaned as John began fisting his cock, but he was silenced when Cena leaned forward and pressed their mouths together again. Tongue probing Randy's hot mouth, he continued jerking Randy's rock-hard dick, smiling into the kiss when Randy's hips bucked a little. His hand moving up and down across warm flesh, John relished the sight of Randy's flushed body moving with his pumping. He let go then, and his fingers moved downward, pushing against Randy's pink entrance until suddenly Randy broke off the kiss and pushed him away.

"No." Randy shook his head, "Just do it."

"Are you sure?" John asked, his hand going back to rubbing Randy's dick.

"Y-yes…" Randy gasped, "Just…j-just fuck me already…"

John didn't need to be told twice. He positioned himself above him, pushing Randy's thighs apart with his own legs, and then he could feel his cock pressing at Randy's entrance. He pushed forward slowly, his thick, swollen dick sliding inch by inch into Randy's tight heat. Orton whimpered in pain and pleasure, and he wrapped his arms around John, digging his nails into his side, letting John know just how much he was being stretched.

"Fuck Randy…your so tight…" John hissed, gritting his teeth as he pushed farther, the warmth surrounding him nearly choking his dick.

"Your…so fucking big…" Randy whined, biting his bottom lips as John's thick cock tore into him.

John was buried to the hilt then, and he pulled out slowly before gently pushing himself back in, gripping Randy's hips with his hands. He continued the slow pace for a few moments, allowing Randy to adjust to his considerable size, but the agony of moving so slowly drove him mad. What he really wanted to do was fuck Randy so hard he couldn't walk…

"John…I said fuck me! Shit…" Randy moaned, throwing his head back.

So Randy wanted to be fucked? Fine, John could certainly do that. He ripped himself almost completely out of Randy and then rammed himself back in, earning a moan of delight from the younger man. Not stopping this time, John yanked back out again before shoving right back in, pushing into Randy so hard that they scooted a few inches across the bed. Randy's nails dug into his back as he thrust in and out, his swollen cock sliding roughly inside Randy. He continued pumping into Randy furiously, his hips thrusting so fast and so hard Randy was seeing stars. And then John hit him in his pleasure spot, and Randy arched his back, whimpering in lust as he bucked his hips upward, pulling John into himself.

The heat building between his legs, John lost all control. Gripping Randy's hips, he yanked Randy's body against him, pushing himself so deep into Randy he was sure he would be asked to stop. But Randy didn't say anything…he merely moaned and rocked against John's body, making sure that John hit his prostate with every thrust he made. And then John pulled himself out of Randy, his cock dripping with precum, and Randy looked up at him with red cheeks, panting hard.

"John, why'd you—" Randy began.

"Get on your knees." John growled, backing up, rubbing his hard dick.

Randy seemed to like that idea. He scrambled onto his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder as he raised his tight ass in the air, spreading his legs to give John a good show. Cena kneeled behind him, and then he grabbed him by the hips, roughly yanking Randy backwards. Orton moaned in pleasure as John's dick shoved into him again, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly as Cena once again began fucking him for all he was worth. John's hands digging into Randy's hips, he growled in pleasure as he thrust as deep as he could into Randy's willing ass, his balls slapping against Randy's thick thighs. In and out, in and out John thrust, his swollen cock stabbing at Randy's pleasure button with each shove.

"Oh…fuck John! Right there…" Randy howled, backing himself into Cena's ramming, loving the way John's thick dick rubbed against his prostate.

But Cena didn't stop there. He reached around with one hand and began jerking Randy roughly, his hands tugging at the soft skin of Randy's hard cock. Orton was practically screaming in pleasure at that point, rolling his hips each time John fucked and jerked him.

Randy came first. He moaned loudly as his cock twitched in John's hand, shooting hot cum out onto the sheets. The sight of Randy clenching his eyes shut and cumming all over the bed sent John over the edge. Grabbing Randy's hips with both his hands, he shoved himself deep into his best friend, then yanked himself nearly all the way out, and then rammed his stiff cock all the way in. He came then, his whole body shuddering as he shot warm, white liquid into Randy's ass, and after a few more rough thrusts, he pulled himself out, his dick still leaking slightly. Randy collapsed then, and directly after John's body collapsed on top of his. And they lay there, a hot, sticky mess, both of them flushed bright red and panting heavily from exertion.

"John…" Randy panted, "You should be my boyfriend…"

"Oh?" John smiled, bending down to kiss Randy on the shoulder, "And why is that?"

"Because…because I could go for some more of this." Randy sighed.

"So could I , Randy." John replied, "So could I."

"I thought…I thought you knew." Randy slurred, still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

"No." John shook his head, "I can't believe…all this time…I've been wanting you for ages and this whole time…"

"You're pretty fucking stupid." Randy laughed.

"We should shower." John said, kissing Randy lightly behind the ear.

"We?" Randy asked.

"Yes 'we'." John growled into Randy's ear, "I've been wanting to fuck you for years. We got a lot of catching up to do."

"I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow, am I?" Randy sighed.

"Nope. Probably not." John said with a dimpled smirk.