Two fics w/in ten mins??? OMG
Title: You're the Remedy
Pairing: Mizena
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Just a nice little songfic i wanted to do. FTR- Bullet for my valentine is the shit good sirs. Song is BFMV- Fever
Mike stepped out of the steam-filled room, wiping his face with one of the hotel issued fluffy white towels, absentmindedly wrapping another around his waist. This was the best part of each day-the time where Mike headed back to his hotel room after a busy day of promotion, of preening around and showboating for the members of the WWE Universe at signings and interviews, and took a long, scalding shower, relaxing his sore muscles and giving his body some much needed time to reboot and rest before the next day.
He took a step into his ridiculously swank hotel suite-that's what you got when you were WWE champion baby-pausing to take a quick glance into the full length mirror that stood against the wall.
Damn he looked good; he could unashamedly admit it. His body was in as good of shape as ever, taking extra time in the gym to harden and tone his physique, half for himself, half to prove to his former tag partner and any who agreed that they could shove the 'husky' comments up their asses.
Mike shook the remaining drops of water out of his hair, content to let it air dry for once as opposed to taking up the rest of his day blow drying and styling and gelling. He took a step toward his bag, looking for a change of clothes, but stopped when his eyes crossed sight of his generally unused I-pod. He never really liked the things; he'd gone through about four in almost a year. But with a shrug of his shoulders, he thought what the hell and grabbed the thing, flipping through his albums to remind himself of some songs he'd forgotten. He thumbed across the screen, nothing really catching his attention, until he got to the F's, Bullet for My Valentine's latest album causing him to pause.
Mike couldn't even remember how many times he'd listened to that album when it had come out; he knew each song by heart. But as his popularity increased, his down time decreased, and he rarely had time to listen to any of his old music.
He rifled through his bag, searching for his prehistoric speaker system; but he had some time now.
Hooking up the small, portable speaker was a bit difficult, but he managed, plugging it into the wall and hitting play, letting the first song pump into the room.
He nodded his head to the rough guitar intro, grabbing a change of clothes as he made his way across the room to stand in front of the mirror.
It's hot as hell in here
Everybody wants to lose control
He swung his ass to the beat, stripping the towel from around his waist as he pulled on some boxers. Who hadn't lip-synched in front of a mirror half naked sometime in there life?
The music's turned up loud
The lights are turned down low
Miz sung along with the lyrics, full blown dancing now. Damn, he'd forgotten how much he loved this song. It sure didn't get any better than bitchin' guitar solos, ear-splitting beats, and lyrics about doing a stripper; now that was rock and roll!
Wound up like a hurricane
And my head's about to explode
He grabbed a nearby hairbrush, totally in the moment. Frankly Mike didn't see how he couldn't have been a rock star in another life. He had the look, the cocky attitude, the ability to pick up girls (or guys) anywhere he went…oh yeah, he definitely could make a living out of this.
Can't wait to self-destruct
Can't wait to let it go
Mike missed the first throat clear, trying to alert him of the other's presence; his music was on top volume and he was completely absorbed in his rocking. By the third time, he was finally able to notice the tall, muscled man standing by the door, looking thoroughly amused at his dancing in front of the mirror clad only in his underwear.
(Woah-ohh) She hits the stage-
Mike shut off the song, a bit miffed at his private time being so rudely interrupted. "Cena? What are you doing in here?"
John shook his head, chuckling slightly at the bitchy look on his coworker's face, "Your door was wide open you know; I could hear that crap from my room."
"Crap?" Miz asked, offended; this was one of his favorite bands they were talking about here. "Bullet for My Valentine is a great band."
John raised an eyebrow, shaking his head again in amusement as he leaned against Mike's door, his arms crossed over his wide chest, "I didn't come to debate music with you Mizanin, I came to get you to turn it down."
Mike matched John's posture, raising his head in defiance, "What if I don't want to? Free country; I can play my music at any volume I want."
Sighing, John glanced over his shoulder out into the hallway, hoping he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his day off arguing with The Miz. "I get that. But I was hoping…" John looked up at Mike's face, face falling at the sure, arrogant look on the other's face. "You aren't going to just let this end without a fight huh?"
Mike shook his head, enjoying putting his opponent in such an uncomfortable position; Cena barely ever said two words to him out of the ring, asking Mike for a favor had to be killing him.
"Mike can't you just-"
"Sorry, can't hear you."
Mike pushed play on his speaker, resuming his head-banging, ignoring Cena standing right in front of him beginning to look pissed off.
(Woah-ohh) She makes me crave
So come and get my money (Woah-oh-oh-ohh!)
"Mike, Mike!"
He ignored Cena's voice, dancing around the older man as he sang to the lyrics. "I can feel your fever, taking over. Can you see your fever," Mike saddled up against John, singing right in his ear, "taking over me?"
"Mike."
He kept right on singing and dancing, having more fun bugging John then he had in all of his promos combined. Who knew SuperCena's buttons were so easy to push?
John rubbed a hand across his forehead, headache beginning to build in response to the combination of the loud, angry music and Mike trampling all over his last nerve. How in the fuck was he supposed to get through to Mike when he was hopping around like the Easter bunny on crack, pursing his lips as he sang, strumming on an invisible guitar?
The proverbial light bulb went off in John's head, his eyes zeroing in on Mike's Billy Idol-esque sneer.
I can feel your fever, taking over
Got a dirty feeling, that you're the remedy
John walked over to Mike, who was a bit occupied with his air-guitaring to notice him approach. He grabbed Mike's shoulders, stilling him, and quickly leaned forward, planting a hard kiss against his lips.
Woahhhh, Come on!
So I'm looking for a spark-
John reached over and shut off the music, turning back to Mike, his dimples popping at the dumbfound expression on his face.
"Wha…you just…uhh…"
John laughed, reaching up to wipe at his bottom lip, the phantom sensation of Mike's lips sticking around on them, "Yeah, I kissed you. Glad you're at a loss for words for once in your life."
Mike's mouth had formed a perfect 'o', his shock completely leaving him without a single witty comeback. Holy…John Cena was…he…He was into Mike? There was no way. He had just wanted him to quit singing…right?
John mistook Mike's shock and incredulity for stunned anger, his face falling at his own conjecturing. "Listen Mike, I was just…I-I don't know what I was doing. If I offended you or, or anything…"
"No!" Mike said, startling John with his eager refusal. "I mean, uhh…No, it's fine. I mean I don't have any problem with it…"
"Well I didn't think this was the best time to say it but uhh…" John reached up to adjust his baseball cap, feeling unsure of himself for the first time of his life. "I have always…I've always kinda…had a crush on ya' Mike."
Mike's jaw dropped to the floor. Go back. Rewind. What? He had to have been fucking with him. There was no way the poster boy of the WWE, not to mention the leading man of many of Mike's late night fantasies, John Cena, liked, or felt ANY emotion for him.
"You've…had a crush…on me?" Mike sounded the words out slowly, as if the order of them sounded odd in his head.
John looked to the floor, his bright blue eyes locked in a staring contest with the carpet, "Well, yeah."
"S-since when?" Mike asked incredulous, completely unbelieving that the man of his dreams could feel anything but disdain for him.
"Well…probably around the time we had that feud-"
"Two years?"
John's head snapped up at the question, gazing at Mike apologetically. Was it his fault he'd been stuck in a relationship with one of the most notoriously emotionless men in the company, too absorbed by the long nights in bed to notice his repressed feelings for the adorable, faux-hawked man of his dreams?
"Sorry…but, wow really? At least I have you beat…" Mike's hand slapped against his lips, inwardly cursing his frequently reoccurring foot in mouth.
"What?"
"Shit. I uh," It was Mike's turn to look at the floor, cheeks bright red with his accidental admission. "I've practically been in love with you since I got into the WWE…I always thought you were, completely unattainable."
"Wow. Really?"
Mike looked into John's eyes, "Yeah. I mean you were always with Randy and…God, being in this feud has been killing me."
John chuckled, understanding where Mike was coming from; sometimes in the ring he could hardly resist fucking Mike into the mat right then and there. "So…where do we go from here?"
Mike's lips slowly turned up into a smirk, eyeing his speakers on the dresser. "I have an idea. Strip."
John's eyes shot up to his hairline, but couldn't help but feel completely turned on by the minx-ish look on his new lover's face. "Alright."
Mike pushed play, gesturing to Cena to get the show on the road.
I've got a fire to re-ignite
Don't worry you won't get burned
So don't, don't put up a fight
John moved in front of Mike's bed, stripping off his hat and shirt, smiling at the low, appreciative whistle that came from Mike. He half-heartedly shook to the beat, kicking off his shoes and removing his belt.
Push hard to breaking point
And I'm ready to overload
He teasingly pushed down his jeans, taking his boxers with them, stepping out of his pants, standing proud and tall in more ways than one.
Mike bit his lip at the beautiful display of sexy man that stood in front of him, slowly pushing down his own boxers which had become admittedly a bit tighter at the display.
No limits and no regrets
It's time to sell my soul
John quirked an eyebrow at Miz, silently daring him to make the next call as he turned briefly to sit on the edge of his bed. Mike glanced away and into the mirror he'd been so absorbed in, the sight of John hard and ready doubly amplified.
(Woah-ohh) You're what I want
(Woah-ohh) You're what I need
So come and take my money, (Woah-ohh-ohh-ohh)
Fuck it.
Mike got a running start, tackling John to the bed with full force, planting hot, wet kisses on any piece of skin and muscle his lips could reach.
I can feel your fever, taking over
Can you see your fever, taking over me?
I can feel your fever taking over
Got a dirty feeling that you're the remedy
"So…God, John. So fucking hot."
Mike ground his hard and leaking dick into John's, both of them relishing in the wonderful gasps of pleasure that shot through their bodies. He bent his head down further, jamming his tongue into John's mouth, letting the older man overpower him.
"Fuck, Mike. Wanted to do this so long. Want to fuck you so bad."
Come here you naughty girl, you're such a tease
You look so beautiful, down on your knees
Mike groaned against John's lips, the husky southern drawl shooting straight to his dick. "Want it too. Need it so bad. Fuck me, John."
John growled low in his throat, flipping the two of them over so Mike was on his back, panting and writhing and practically shaking with arousal. He moved down Mike's body, laying sloppy wet kisses against the smooth, tan skin as he went. He moved to wet his fingers, wanting to prepare Mike, but was stopped as he grabbed his wrist roughly, shaking his head no.
Keep on those high heel shoes; rip off all your clothes
You smell so fucking good, it makes me lose control!
"Don't need prep. I can't last that long, John. Need it quick and dirty, gotta have you now."
John moaned at the words, the flushed look on Mike's face making it harder for him as well. He spit in his hand, slicking his dick as much as he could, hoping that Mike at least liked a little rough.
Losing control! (You're what I want)
Losing control! (You're what I need)
Losing control! (You're what I want)
I can't let you go!
Woah-oh-oh-oh
John lined his dick up with Mike's hole, practically salivating at fucking this man. They could always take their time later; right now it was about fucking the life out of the other.
He slammed inside Mike, both of them groaning at the feeling. John braced his hands on either side of Mike's body, the suffocating heat making it harder to think clearly.
After Mike had adjusted as much as he could, he motioned John to continue, pulling his bulky frame tighter against him, wrapping his legs tight around his waist as he pulled him in for a deep kiss.
Mike groaned against John's lips as the movement caused John to thrust in deeper, his meaty dick resting against his sweet spot.
"Ohh…fuck! More John, want more."
I can feel your fever, taking over
Can you see your fever, taking over me?
John thrust deeper and deeper into Mike, groaning as the younger man scraped his blunt nails across his back, spreading what was sure to be his blood around with his hands.
Mike bit his lip, nearly busting the sensitive skin open with his force. Damn, he'd never had it as good. John Cena was rocking his mother fucking world.
"Oh, John fuck. So close. Already there. Fuck!" Mike groaned deep and low as John stabbed against his prostate, mercilessly jabbing his insides with fervor.
I can feel your fever, taking over
Got a dirty feeling that you're the remedy
That you're the remedy
You are the remedy!
John was right there with him. The combination of the built up feelings being let loose and Mike's tight ass clenching around his dick was almost too much for him, and he'd be lucky to last another five minutes.
Mike could barely notice John's own similar battles of staving off his orgasm; he was too absorbed with the wonderful bursts of pleasure coursing through his veins, his eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of John moving in and out of him.
John needed to come. He was about to pass out from the intense feelings running through his body. He HAD to come, but not before Mike. Not before the younger man reached his own peak of ecstasy, coming all over himself as he cried out John's name.
He grabbed Mike's member, smirking slightly at the hushed expletive that slipped from Mike's mouth at the action. He jacked Mike in time with his thrusts, ordering him to come, promising him of all the dirty things they'd do once they had the time.
With a loud yell, Mike came, impressive streams of cum shooting out of his dick and across his abs, painting his stomach and John's hand with his seed.
The intense clenching of Mike as he reached his orgasm was too much for John, and he finally, mercifully, reached his own climax, coating Mike's insides.
John pulled out, feeling lightheaded at experiencing one of the best orgasms of his life. Definitely top five. He smirked as the thought crossed his mind; he was sure Randy's record would be broken within the end of the week at the rate they were going.
Miz sighed from next to him, basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm. Who'd have thought that by the end of the day he'd be wrapped in the arms of John Cena? That just showed you the power of Rock and Roll.
Pairing: Mizena
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Just a nice little songfic i wanted to do. FTR- Bullet for my valentine is the shit good sirs. Song is BFMV- Fever
Mike stepped out of the steam-filled room, wiping his face with one of the hotel issued fluffy white towels, absentmindedly wrapping another around his waist. This was the best part of each day-the time where Mike headed back to his hotel room after a busy day of promotion, of preening around and showboating for the members of the WWE Universe at signings and interviews, and took a long, scalding shower, relaxing his sore muscles and giving his body some much needed time to reboot and rest before the next day.
He took a step into his ridiculously swank hotel suite-that's what you got when you were WWE champion baby-pausing to take a quick glance into the full length mirror that stood against the wall.
Damn he looked good; he could unashamedly admit it. His body was in as good of shape as ever, taking extra time in the gym to harden and tone his physique, half for himself, half to prove to his former tag partner and any who agreed that they could shove the 'husky' comments up their asses.
Mike shook the remaining drops of water out of his hair, content to let it air dry for once as opposed to taking up the rest of his day blow drying and styling and gelling. He took a step toward his bag, looking for a change of clothes, but stopped when his eyes crossed sight of his generally unused I-pod. He never really liked the things; he'd gone through about four in almost a year. But with a shrug of his shoulders, he thought what the hell and grabbed the thing, flipping through his albums to remind himself of some songs he'd forgotten. He thumbed across the screen, nothing really catching his attention, until he got to the F's, Bullet for My Valentine's latest album causing him to pause.
Mike couldn't even remember how many times he'd listened to that album when it had come out; he knew each song by heart. But as his popularity increased, his down time decreased, and he rarely had time to listen to any of his old music.
He rifled through his bag, searching for his prehistoric speaker system; but he had some time now.
Hooking up the small, portable speaker was a bit difficult, but he managed, plugging it into the wall and hitting play, letting the first song pump into the room.
He nodded his head to the rough guitar intro, grabbing a change of clothes as he made his way across the room to stand in front of the mirror.
It's hot as hell in here
Everybody wants to lose control
He swung his ass to the beat, stripping the towel from around his waist as he pulled on some boxers. Who hadn't lip-synched in front of a mirror half naked sometime in there life?
The music's turned up loud
The lights are turned down low
Miz sung along with the lyrics, full blown dancing now. Damn, he'd forgotten how much he loved this song. It sure didn't get any better than bitchin' guitar solos, ear-splitting beats, and lyrics about doing a stripper; now that was rock and roll!
Wound up like a hurricane
And my head's about to explode
He grabbed a nearby hairbrush, totally in the moment. Frankly Mike didn't see how he couldn't have been a rock star in another life. He had the look, the cocky attitude, the ability to pick up girls (or guys) anywhere he went…oh yeah, he definitely could make a living out of this.
Can't wait to self-destruct
Can't wait to let it go
Mike missed the first throat clear, trying to alert him of the other's presence; his music was on top volume and he was completely absorbed in his rocking. By the third time, he was finally able to notice the tall, muscled man standing by the door, looking thoroughly amused at his dancing in front of the mirror clad only in his underwear.
(Woah-ohh) She hits the stage-
Mike shut off the song, a bit miffed at his private time being so rudely interrupted. "Cena? What are you doing in here?"
John shook his head, chuckling slightly at the bitchy look on his coworker's face, "Your door was wide open you know; I could hear that crap from my room."
"Crap?" Miz asked, offended; this was one of his favorite bands they were talking about here. "Bullet for My Valentine is a great band."
John raised an eyebrow, shaking his head again in amusement as he leaned against Mike's door, his arms crossed over his wide chest, "I didn't come to debate music with you Mizanin, I came to get you to turn it down."
Mike matched John's posture, raising his head in defiance, "What if I don't want to? Free country; I can play my music at any volume I want."
Sighing, John glanced over his shoulder out into the hallway, hoping he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his day off arguing with The Miz. "I get that. But I was hoping…" John looked up at Mike's face, face falling at the sure, arrogant look on the other's face. "You aren't going to just let this end without a fight huh?"
Mike shook his head, enjoying putting his opponent in such an uncomfortable position; Cena barely ever said two words to him out of the ring, asking Mike for a favor had to be killing him.
"Mike can't you just-"
"Sorry, can't hear you."
Mike pushed play on his speaker, resuming his head-banging, ignoring Cena standing right in front of him beginning to look pissed off.
(Woah-ohh) She makes me crave
So come and get my money (Woah-oh-oh-ohh!)
"Mike, Mike!"
He ignored Cena's voice, dancing around the older man as he sang to the lyrics. "I can feel your fever, taking over. Can you see your fever," Mike saddled up against John, singing right in his ear, "taking over me?"
"Mike."
He kept right on singing and dancing, having more fun bugging John then he had in all of his promos combined. Who knew SuperCena's buttons were so easy to push?
John rubbed a hand across his forehead, headache beginning to build in response to the combination of the loud, angry music and Mike trampling all over his last nerve. How in the fuck was he supposed to get through to Mike when he was hopping around like the Easter bunny on crack, pursing his lips as he sang, strumming on an invisible guitar?
The proverbial light bulb went off in John's head, his eyes zeroing in on Mike's Billy Idol-esque sneer.
I can feel your fever, taking over
Got a dirty feeling, that you're the remedy
John walked over to Mike, who was a bit occupied with his air-guitaring to notice him approach. He grabbed Mike's shoulders, stilling him, and quickly leaned forward, planting a hard kiss against his lips.
Woahhhh, Come on!
So I'm looking for a spark-
John reached over and shut off the music, turning back to Mike, his dimples popping at the dumbfound expression on his face.
"Wha…you just…uhh…"
John laughed, reaching up to wipe at his bottom lip, the phantom sensation of Mike's lips sticking around on them, "Yeah, I kissed you. Glad you're at a loss for words for once in your life."
Mike's mouth had formed a perfect 'o', his shock completely leaving him without a single witty comeback. Holy…John Cena was…he…He was into Mike? There was no way. He had just wanted him to quit singing…right?
John mistook Mike's shock and incredulity for stunned anger, his face falling at his own conjecturing. "Listen Mike, I was just…I-I don't know what I was doing. If I offended you or, or anything…"
"No!" Mike said, startling John with his eager refusal. "I mean, uhh…No, it's fine. I mean I don't have any problem with it…"
"Well I didn't think this was the best time to say it but uhh…" John reached up to adjust his baseball cap, feeling unsure of himself for the first time of his life. "I have always…I've always kinda…had a crush on ya' Mike."
Mike's jaw dropped to the floor. Go back. Rewind. What? He had to have been fucking with him. There was no way the poster boy of the WWE, not to mention the leading man of many of Mike's late night fantasies, John Cena, liked, or felt ANY emotion for him.
"You've…had a crush…on me?" Mike sounded the words out slowly, as if the order of them sounded odd in his head.
John looked to the floor, his bright blue eyes locked in a staring contest with the carpet, "Well, yeah."
"S-since when?" Mike asked incredulous, completely unbelieving that the man of his dreams could feel anything but disdain for him.
"Well…probably around the time we had that feud-"
"Two years?"
John's head snapped up at the question, gazing at Mike apologetically. Was it his fault he'd been stuck in a relationship with one of the most notoriously emotionless men in the company, too absorbed by the long nights in bed to notice his repressed feelings for the adorable, faux-hawked man of his dreams?
"Sorry…but, wow really? At least I have you beat…" Mike's hand slapped against his lips, inwardly cursing his frequently reoccurring foot in mouth.
"What?"
"Shit. I uh," It was Mike's turn to look at the floor, cheeks bright red with his accidental admission. "I've practically been in love with you since I got into the WWE…I always thought you were, completely unattainable."
"Wow. Really?"
Mike looked into John's eyes, "Yeah. I mean you were always with Randy and…God, being in this feud has been killing me."
John chuckled, understanding where Mike was coming from; sometimes in the ring he could hardly resist fucking Mike into the mat right then and there. "So…where do we go from here?"
Mike's lips slowly turned up into a smirk, eyeing his speakers on the dresser. "I have an idea. Strip."
John's eyes shot up to his hairline, but couldn't help but feel completely turned on by the minx-ish look on his new lover's face. "Alright."
Mike pushed play, gesturing to Cena to get the show on the road.
I've got a fire to re-ignite
Don't worry you won't get burned
So don't, don't put up a fight
John moved in front of Mike's bed, stripping off his hat and shirt, smiling at the low, appreciative whistle that came from Mike. He half-heartedly shook to the beat, kicking off his shoes and removing his belt.
Push hard to breaking point
And I'm ready to overload
He teasingly pushed down his jeans, taking his boxers with them, stepping out of his pants, standing proud and tall in more ways than one.
Mike bit his lip at the beautiful display of sexy man that stood in front of him, slowly pushing down his own boxers which had become admittedly a bit tighter at the display.
No limits and no regrets
It's time to sell my soul
John quirked an eyebrow at Miz, silently daring him to make the next call as he turned briefly to sit on the edge of his bed. Mike glanced away and into the mirror he'd been so absorbed in, the sight of John hard and ready doubly amplified.
(Woah-ohh) You're what I want
(Woah-ohh) You're what I need
So come and take my money, (Woah-ohh-ohh-ohh)
Fuck it.
Mike got a running start, tackling John to the bed with full force, planting hot, wet kisses on any piece of skin and muscle his lips could reach.
I can feel your fever, taking over
Can you see your fever, taking over me?
I can feel your fever taking over
Got a dirty feeling that you're the remedy
"So…God, John. So fucking hot."
Mike ground his hard and leaking dick into John's, both of them relishing in the wonderful gasps of pleasure that shot through their bodies. He bent his head down further, jamming his tongue into John's mouth, letting the older man overpower him.
"Fuck, Mike. Wanted to do this so long. Want to fuck you so bad."
Come here you naughty girl, you're such a tease
You look so beautiful, down on your knees
Mike groaned against John's lips, the husky southern drawl shooting straight to his dick. "Want it too. Need it so bad. Fuck me, John."
John growled low in his throat, flipping the two of them over so Mike was on his back, panting and writhing and practically shaking with arousal. He moved down Mike's body, laying sloppy wet kisses against the smooth, tan skin as he went. He moved to wet his fingers, wanting to prepare Mike, but was stopped as he grabbed his wrist roughly, shaking his head no.
Keep on those high heel shoes; rip off all your clothes
You smell so fucking good, it makes me lose control!
"Don't need prep. I can't last that long, John. Need it quick and dirty, gotta have you now."
John moaned at the words, the flushed look on Mike's face making it harder for him as well. He spit in his hand, slicking his dick as much as he could, hoping that Mike at least liked a little rough.
Losing control! (You're what I want)
Losing control! (You're what I need)
Losing control! (You're what I want)
I can't let you go!
Woah-oh-oh-oh
John lined his dick up with Mike's hole, practically salivating at fucking this man. They could always take their time later; right now it was about fucking the life out of the other.
He slammed inside Mike, both of them groaning at the feeling. John braced his hands on either side of Mike's body, the suffocating heat making it harder to think clearly.
After Mike had adjusted as much as he could, he motioned John to continue, pulling his bulky frame tighter against him, wrapping his legs tight around his waist as he pulled him in for a deep kiss.
Mike groaned against John's lips as the movement caused John to thrust in deeper, his meaty dick resting against his sweet spot.
"Ohh…fuck! More John, want more."
I can feel your fever, taking over
Can you see your fever, taking over me?
John thrust deeper and deeper into Mike, groaning as the younger man scraped his blunt nails across his back, spreading what was sure to be his blood around with his hands.
Mike bit his lip, nearly busting the sensitive skin open with his force. Damn, he'd never had it as good. John Cena was rocking his mother fucking world.
"Oh, John fuck. So close. Already there. Fuck!" Mike groaned deep and low as John stabbed against his prostate, mercilessly jabbing his insides with fervor.
I can feel your fever, taking over
Got a dirty feeling that you're the remedy
That you're the remedy
You are the remedy!
John was right there with him. The combination of the built up feelings being let loose and Mike's tight ass clenching around his dick was almost too much for him, and he'd be lucky to last another five minutes.
Mike could barely notice John's own similar battles of staving off his orgasm; he was too absorbed with the wonderful bursts of pleasure coursing through his veins, his eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of John moving in and out of him.
John needed to come. He was about to pass out from the intense feelings running through his body. He HAD to come, but not before Mike. Not before the younger man reached his own peak of ecstasy, coming all over himself as he cried out John's name.
He grabbed Mike's member, smirking slightly at the hushed expletive that slipped from Mike's mouth at the action. He jacked Mike in time with his thrusts, ordering him to come, promising him of all the dirty things they'd do once they had the time.
With a loud yell, Mike came, impressive streams of cum shooting out of his dick and across his abs, painting his stomach and John's hand with his seed.
The intense clenching of Mike as he reached his orgasm was too much for John, and he finally, mercifully, reached his own climax, coating Mike's insides.
John pulled out, feeling lightheaded at experiencing one of the best orgasms of his life. Definitely top five. He smirked as the thought crossed his mind; he was sure Randy's record would be broken within the end of the week at the rate they were going.
Miz sighed from next to him, basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm. Who'd have thought that by the end of the day he'd be wrapped in the arms of John Cena? That just showed you the power of Rock and Roll.