Thanks for the nice reviews, they are deeply appreciated. Now, I know this story is kind of wicked… but my muses are the ones pushing me around to write it ;)

The Red 4

CM Punk was used to wake up in pain. It has been like that since the day he started wrestling over a decade ago and as the years flew by he came to realize that time only made things worse.

Looking back at it, he was sure that it all started in those initial weeks where at the end of each day his muscles would ache all over like never before; then when months turned into those first years he found out that the pain continued to his knees, moved up to his back and then extended over every bone in his body, leaving him an aching mass of flesh and bones.

In his mind it was like this, the more experience he got and the better he became, the worse it was for him to drag himself out of bed every morning.

Sometimes the pain was so bad that he would wake up grunting and thinking that he was too old already and that the best he could do was quit wrestling altogether and leave the pain behind, after all he had pushed his body way beyond the limits of comfort and he needed time to heal.

But that was only sometimes, just when the pain was too much for his mere mortal body to bear; but overall the pain didn't bother him as much as some people would think and with time he learnt to embrace it as part of himself.

Sure, he couldn't deny that it was a… well, a pain, but it was what it was and he couldn't see himself not wrestling.

But that day when he first opened his eyes, the first thought that ran through his mind was that he was indeed too old for that shit and that his body was resenting him for all the years of abuse it had endured. That day there wasn't a part of him that wasn't aching and what was worse, there was not a single thing he could do about it as all his limbs felt like rubber and he doubted that he could gather enough strength to stand up.

He just didn't have it in him. He even felt like he was shaking all over.

Closing his eyes again and shutting out his blurry vision, the Straight Edge Superstar rolled his head to the side and winced; he was feeling almost as bad as the day he cracked his skull open and the pain was very close to unbearable.

It could only get worse if he all of a sudden began to puke. Not that a thing like that could happen, he was running on an empty stomach and he deduced that was part of the reason he was feeling so week.

So yeah it was that bad, and he would curse and complain about it if he could… in fact he wanted to, but something in the back of his head was telling him to keep his silence or things could get worse than they already were.

"Are you planning on sleeping all the day off, I never thought you were the lazy kind, Phil."

Punk heard the voice alright and yes, he recognized it as Randy's own, but even though he decided not to reply to him or even open his eyes. It would hurt his head too much and even if he at least managed to get something out of the younger man before getting knocked out cold, Orton wasn't worth all the pain he has been suffering as of late.

"Come on, you want to give me the cold shoulder now that we are… intimates." Randy snorted, his voice carrying an undertone of amusement that Punk didn't like at all. "I even got this for you. It's not like you deserve it but for now, I'm going to let the past be bygone."

Trying to ignore him, Punk started to wonder how come he didn't run out of the room when he had the chance, after all he had the opportunity to do so and instead of going for it he allowed the most primitive side of him to take over his senses. Instead of running he decided to fuck Randy Orton and that has been his mistake.

Did he enjoy it? But of course; was it worth it over his freedom? Not at all.

Taking in a deep breath, CM Punk opened his eyes to a slit and by doing so he realized that he was in a bathtub. The knowledge for some reason worried him and feeling more alert he realized that the bathtub was full of water. How weird that he didn't recognize the feeling of being submerged in warm water until now.

That worried him… actually, what really worried him was the possibility of Randy pushing his head underneath the water and drowning him there. It would be so easy for him to do it… he was kind of expecting him to do it.

"Do you want to know something?" The younger man said casually and Phil watched him approach towards him. Once near enough, he got down to his knees and with all the calm in the world he inserted one of his hands into the water. "When I knocked you down I had to carry you all the way here… and well, I had to put you in here and while taking all your clothes off and washing you real nice I realized how easy it would be to lay you down and fuck the shit out of you. You wouldn't have even felt a thing."

At his words, Phil closed his eyes and ever so slowly he moved his legs underwater, trying to wake them up and lure them into supporting his weight once he could gather the strength to get up.

"But-" Randy continued, his hand crawling to Phil's lower stomach so his fingers could run smoothly down his pubic bone and finally towards his limp cook. "I didn't want you not to feel a thing and well, I wanted you all cleaned up. You were a mess and as tempting as you were, I would rather have you not smelling like a bloody dirty rat."

Clearing his throat, the Chicago native opened his eyes once again and fixed them on Randy's own. Despite himself and his aching body, what the other man was doing with his hands was provoking a reaction out of him and little by little he could feel himself getting hard under the ministrations. "You didn't seem to mind how I smelled when I caught you off guard and fucked the shit out of you." He groaned, wishing his voice would be more firm and secure.

Orton smiled, licking his lips as he continued to rub Phil's cock into life. "You didn't catch me off guard."

"Ah, so is that why you brought me here, so I could fuck you? Randal, once again… I'm flattered, but if that's all you wanted you should have told me and I would have been more than happy to comply; after all you do have a sweet tight ass I wouldn't mind doing over and over again. You know, since you are getting me ready I can fuck you again, right now."

Sure, he didn't had the strength and he definitely doubted that his body could repeat such an act while he was feeling so bad, but he would be damned if he wouldn't at least try to gain more time by entertaining Orton with a little bit of talking.

He needed time to strategize and to recuperate his energy.

"That's not why I brought you here and trust me, your cock won't be getting near me again." Randy responded and Phil forced his lips to form a smirk.

"It's in your hand right now,"

This time Randy was the one who smirked. "Then enjoy it while it last."

With that being said, Orton closed his hand over his captive's erection and with firm strokes he continued to torment not only Phil's flesh, but also his right mind. It was weird and quite honestly he didn't get it. He didn't get why Randy kidnapped him and he definitely didn't get why he made him blow him off and then allowed him to fuck him silly.

Because thinking about it with a clearer mind, he still believed that he caught Orton off guard back in the other room, but he also believed that once the initial shock was gone Randy could have easily pushed him away instead of letting him finish him off real nice.

So what was going on? What did he want, what did he pretend to achieve with all of it and why the fuck was he now jerking him up?

But most importantly, why wasn't he pushing him away?

He already made the mistake of letting his carnal instincts screw all the effort he put on breaking free of his bondages and he could see himself making the same mistake once again… at least if he didn't stop him.

"You know, rumor backstage is that you are a little fuck that likes screwing people around just because you can. First it was Jeff and everyone knows how bad you fucked him up. I heard you are the reason he went back into that old nasty habit of popping pills down his throat and chasing them down with vodka."

At the mention of that name, Phil snarled his lips and his hand flew to push Randy's own hand away from him. Jeff was a subject out of limits to everyone and he didn't like how it was brought up by the Viper while giving him a hand job.

But his effort to push him away was weak and what Orton did was pick up his rhythm, his hand going up and down and making Phil's balls to tighten up despite himself.

"What, touchy subject?" Orton smirked, his grey eyes sparkling in amusement. "Anyway, I don't know and I don't care about the juice details regarding you and the Hardy boy or the bald chick or what the fuck do I know, the Nexus, the Core or whoever is your boy toy right now; that doesn't matter to me… what matters now is that I'm going to break you in like no one has before; and Punk… trust me on this one;" Randy hissed getting nearer, so near that his lips were pressing against Phil's. "You are going to love every minute of it, you'll love when my cock tears that ass of yours so much that you'll scream my name so hard that the whole world would listen."

Flexing his fingers, Phil took a deep breath and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed his arms up and grabbed Randy by the neck. The movement surprised the younger man alright, but when Punk forced him inside the bathtub he just smiled. "Dream on it. Orton. I'll fuck you a thousand times before you fuck me even once."

"We'll see about that, Phil, we'll see." With that said, Randy closed the distance that separated their lips and while resting all the weight of his lean body against that of Phil's naked one, he kissed him hard and deep.

TBC?