Cross your heart 14/?
Title: Cross Your Heart 14/??
Pairing: Centon/Candy
Summary: When Cody catches two of the WWE's premiere superstars in a...ahem, compromising position, he finds himself in a bit of a tense situation, not to mention finds himself on the Legend Killer's bad side. Takes place in 2007, back during Cody's debut.
Disclaimer: Do not own anyone
Rating: NC-17
A/n: Made a couple of song references in this. Extra credit for those who can find them!
Chapter 1: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/7927.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/8094.html
Chapter 3: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/8423.html
Chapter 4: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/8710.html
Chapter 5: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/9084.html
Chapter 6: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/9306.html
Chapter 7: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/9871.html
Chapter 8: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/10066.html
Chapter 9: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/10557.html
Chapter 10: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/10900.html
Chapter 11: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/11179.html
Chapter 12: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/11538.html#cutid1
Chapter 13: http://messyjessy08.livejournal.com/11792.html#cutid1
John sighed in frustration as he made his way up the worn gravel path he knew well, fingering the key resting in his pocket. According to management, he'd had enough of a 'break' and needed to make his return to work soon. One week was fine, two was pushing it, but nearly a month long absence was unheard of in his line of work. He was issued the ultimatum from Vince himself: return to work or work somewhere else. In John's eyes, he still felt he needed a bit more time to get over his ex, not even including the likelihood of getting to a state of mind where he could see his ex on a multi-day a week basis in simply a platonic setting.
He needed to return to work, and aside from the large gaping hole in his chest and the knife wound in his back, the only thing that prevented him from returning was gathering his things from the home he and Randy had shared and moving it back to his home in Tampa.
If he were a vindictive type of man he supposed he could've made a claim over their house in St. Louis; argue that since the house was legally one-half his, he had every right to kick Randy out of his own home and pitch every last one of his belongings in the garbage. But John was tired; he was sick of always having Randy on his mind and wanted nothing more than to be able to move on with his life. Randy could keep the damn house for all he cared.
He paused as he reached the doorstep, hesitating slightly as he took the time to take in the shabby appearance of the yard and front walkway. The grass hadn't been mowed in what seemed like quite awhile, and the gravel in the front of the house desperately needed a refresher. Newspapers and stray flyers were littered all over the porch and the mailbox at the end of the drive looked stuffed to the limit. John rolled his eyes as he pulled out the key to the front door. Randy must've been staying with Cody the last few weeks-figured.
Pushing the door open, he scanned the open area of the living room, normally very clean and well-kept, finding random articles of clothing, gym bags, and trash strewn across the room. John placed his keys on the end table near the door, scowling in annoyance. Really mature Randy; trash the house before you leave. Way to act like an adult.
Avoiding his penchant for cleaning up after Randy's messes, John made his way further into the house, silently making a list of what things he should take with him. He walked to the kitchen, finding the liquor cabinet above the sink had been raided, the door slightly ajar, half-empty bottles lying haphazardly inside. John rolled his eyes, moving on and taking in the current state of the rest of the house.
He slowly climbed the steps to the second floor, ears pricking as he picked up hushed noises coming from the master bedroom. John's temper flared momentarily, assuming Randy had brought his extracurricular activities home with him, quickly moving with a purpose as he approached the threshold of the bedroom before pausing, shaking his head in disapproval as his eyes met the sight of Randy slipping slowly toward near-unconsciousness, the missing bottles of whisky from the liquor cabinet around him, the stench of alcohol and hopelessness in the air.
John scoffed under his breath, Randy slowly becoming aware of his appearance, "Always so predicable, Randy."
Randy lifted his from the bed, blinking his eyes in confusion as his muddled mind tried to process what he was seeing. "J-John?"
John crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe, taking in Randy's disheveled look, "You look good. The homeless look works for you."
Randy jolted upright, rising to his feet and slowly approached John, eyes wide and pleading. "John. You're here. Why are you-?"
"Not for you."
John pushed passed him, walking towards the large walk-in closet, pulling down a few hangers of his clothes. He kept his back facing Randy, stubborn in his plight to maintain an air of professionalism between the two of them. He was determined to prove to himself that he was above this; he didn't have to antagonize Randy in his moment of weakness despite the more vengeful side of him that wanted nothing more than to do just that.
"John?" Randy's voice sounded from over his shoulder, his peripherals catching Randy's approach.
Sighing deeply in annoyance and frustration, John turned to face him, dropping the pile of clothes in his hand to the floor with a thud.
"What?" He snapped.
Randy flinched at the steely look in John's eyes, faltering at the hatred and irritation he saw there. "Do you think…I-"
John rolled his eyes, turning back to the task of gathering his things with renewed energy, wanting nothing more than to leave and have Randy out of his presence for the rest of the foreseeable future.
"I don't want to hear it, alright? There's nothing more that you or I need to say to each other anymore, Randy. I'm getting my shit, I'm staying in Tampa, and I'm moving on. You got what you wanted; be happy."
"But I didn't want-"
John stopped in his tracks, aimlessly throwing the suitcase he'd taken from the closet against the wall in anger, "No, Randy!" Randy took a step back as John's voice quickly raised in volume. "Stop with this shit! We. Are. Done. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Do you not understand that? I don't want to be anywhere near you after what you did to me." John took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart rate, his face flushed in anger. "No more of this pining shit you're doing-you made your decision."
Randy stumbled forward, reaching out for John only to have his hands slapped away, "But…but John. I'm sorry. I never meant to-"
"You're drunk." John pushed him away, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, wanting to get far away from Randy at that moment.
"It's still true!"
Randy kneeled in front of him, scooting forward until he was rest comfortably between his spread thighs, laying his head against John's knee. "I'm so sorry. Why can't you just forgive me?"
John closed his eyes, sighing. He let Randy lay against him, suddenly feeling too drained to make a move against him. He couldn't even fight him anymore. "Because that's not something I can forgive, Randy." He rubbed his temples, trying to soothe away the headache he felt coming on. "I trusted you, Randy. I loved you. Hell, I still do."
Randy lifted his head from John's lap, hope flaring behind his generally emotionless eyes, "You do?"
"Of course I do. But it's not like I can act on it. We can't be together after all of this," John gestured around the room, indicating the entire situation they found themselves in. "How could I ever trust you again? How could I sleep at night knowing that you could be running around with someone behind my back? I couldn't. It's over, Randy."
"Please don't say that to me," Randy said, leaning up eye-level with John. He could feel himself near tears, and he knew he'd offer every shred of dignity he possessed on a silver platter if that meant having John return to him; at this moment Randy Orton wasn't above begging. "Don't tell me it's over, John. Please."
John looked away at the sadness in his eyes, his heart's fondness for the man in front of him nearly winning over his anger towards him.
"Tell me that I'm an idiot. Call me names. Say I'm pathetic for begging at your feet. Tell me I'm crazy for losing you. Tell me that you hate me-it wouldn't be the worst thing you've ever said to me. Just please…don't tell me it's over."
"It wouldn't be the same, Randy. We're not the same. Not after all of this."
"Let me try. We can still be together, we can still-"
Randy cut himself off as John rose to his feet, shaking his head. "No, we can't. Never again."
John walked across the room, hoping to make as respectable an exit as the situation allowed. He would just have to come back for his things when Randy wasn't here.
"Cody broke up with me."
John stopped at the doorframe, turning to face Randy despite himself. "What?"
Randy nodded, sinking to lean against the edge of the bed. "Said we should take a break. Figured that was a nice way of saying we were done."
John opened his mouth to speak, closing it as he shook his head. The nerve of Randy Orton astounded him sometimes. "I can't believe you, Randy."
"What?"
"What, you think that just because your relationship with him failed, you can just come back to me, expecting me to welcome you?"
Randy shrugged, "Well, why not?"
John stared at him, completely in shock, before giving a weak chuckle. It slowly morphed into slightly hysterical laughter, his eyes filled with mirthless humor. "I can't believe you, Randy. I swear to God, you're incredible."
"Please, John. Please take me back. I'm-I'm begging you."
"And that's supposed to-what? Coerce me into forgiving you? You should be begging. Especially after all you've done."
"What do you want me to do?" Randy rose to his feet, garnering no further reaction from John besides a raised eyebrow. "I-I've apologized. Cody and I aren't together anymore. What else can I do?"
John cornered himself against the wall as Randy slowly approached him, not trusting himself to be this close to each other-not when he could feel his resolve crumbling.
"Please forgive me, John. I miss you. I want you to come home. I want you to be with me again."
John bit the inside of his cheek, face softening as Randy kissed down his jaw line, mumbling quiet promises against his skin.
"Please, John. I love you."
John felt the walls he'd constructed to prevent Randy from worming his way deeper into his heart start to fall away, the need to take Randy in his arms stronger than ever.
"I love you so much."
Those words clicked with him, the half-remembered feelings of waking up alone, hungover with dried tears on his face coming back full force, the feeling of complete and utter loneliness as he tried in vain to make it through his day without a breakdown moving to the forefront of his mind.
"No!"
John pushed Randy bodily away from him, switching there positions as he pinned him against the wall. "No, Randy. None of this manipulation shit, you hear me? You may pull that shit in the ring, but it won't work with me. You can't lie to me-just whisper a few promises against my ear and expect me to drag you to bed."
Randy seemed to have sobered up instantly at that, his fear that John might lash out against him ever-present.
"I. Won't. Fall. For. It."
"I'm not lying."
John scoffed. "Oh, yeah right."
"I'm not! I miss you and want to be with you. You and your stupid pride is the only thing preventing that."
John's eyes widened, slamming Randy once against the wall. "Are you kidding me?"
Randy brought one of his arms up to rub at the back of his head, "No, I'm not. I may be set in the stupidity department, but you don't do so bad yourself."
"Now I'm stupid?"
"Yes. Especially if you won't get over yourself long enough to see we should be together again."
"Get-get over myself? You're fucking delusional, Randy. I've explained to you a hundred times over why we can't be together again. And while your stupidity may be one of the reasons, it isn't the main one."
"Then what is?"
"Your fidelity! Or lack thereof, I should say."
Randy rolled his eyes, "I've already told you I'm sorry. And Cody and I are through as of now. He wants nothing to do with me."
"I can understand where he's coming from."
Randy glared, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "I'm trying to apologize here."
"You're doing a pretty shitty job of it."
"Alright, fine! You want everyone to be miserable? You want us all to be unhappy because we can't be with the people we love? Fine! You win, John. I'll leave."
Randy pushed John away, getting halfway into the hallway before John's voice sounded behind him: "Wait."
Randy turned to face him, slowly approaching, John meeting him halfway.
John looked him up and down, a scowl marring his features. "I hate you so fuckin much."
They both reached out at the same time, grasping each other and any piece of skin that was in their reach. They fell to the rough carpet, both men clawing and scratching at one another as they kissed the other with each bit of force and passion they could muster. Randy had finally gotten John to face the feelings he knew he still had, and if that meant unleashing each feeling towards Randy he had-including anger and disgust-then so be it. They tore at one another's clothing, both soon completely naked. They switched positions of dominance a few times until a particularly sharp jab to Randy's ribcage allowed John to straddle Randy's thighs, moving down his body, nails and teeth tearing into each inch of skin he could. John spit in his hand, only willing to go that far in the sense of preparation, and lubed his cock, already stiff against his abdomen, the fire coursing his veins not discarding his attraction to his younger lover.
John slammed his cock into Randy, not pausing to allow him to adjust, not even after Randy's pain-filled yell that echoed through the entire house.
"I fucking trusted you," John muttered, almost to himself, as he brutally thrust in and out of Randy. "I-fuck-loved you. And what did you do? You left me. I fuckin hate you, Randy. Hate what you do to me."
Randy arched his back as John hit that spot deep inside him. His head banged against the floor as the intense pleasure-pain jolted his body again and again. His skin was being rubbed raw and he could feel John draw blood as he dragged his nails across his abs, but all he could focus on was the feeling of John's thick length stabbing him over and over again.
"Oh, fuck John. Feels so good. Fuck!"
"We would've been so…so happy together, Randy," John whispered against his lips, pausing in practically suffocating Randy with his tongue long enough to catch his breath. "We would've been together all our lives. But you had to…to fuck that up."
Randy moaned and writhed underneath him, reaching down to stroke himself as he felt himself growing closer to his climax. The combination of John's thrusts and the hot breath against his ear as John whispered to him-no matter how negative the words were-had him right at the edge.
"So close, John. Harder! Please fuck me harder."
John obliged, thrusting even harder into Randy, his own orgasm approaching at the tightness Randy always seemed to possess. John batted Randy's hand away, moving instead to take Randy in his hand himself, squeezing and stroking his member with each ounce of strength he possessed. He lunged forward, wanting to taste Randy one last time, and came deep inside him, his grunts of desire getting consumed between Randy's lips.
He still held onto Randy's dick, stroking him even as he nearly passed out from the sheer force of his orgasm, moving his hand faster as he reached down with his other hand to finger Randy's tender hole, gathering the wet mixture of John and Randy on his finger and offering it to Randy's lips. Randy sucked greedily, eyes rolling back into his head as he came, his seed coating both John's hand and the majority of his abdomen.
Randy took a moment to gather his wits as well as catch his breath, feeling a huge feeling of loss as John pulled away. John reached behind him to gather his boxers, quickly slipping them on along with his pants, rising to his feet.
Randy looked up from the floor, slowly sitting up. "Where are you going?"
"Home," John answered gruffly, pulling his shoes on.
Randy chuckled airlessly, "What do you mean-?"
"I mean I'm going home," John said, stopping to address him. "I'm leaving. Just like I said I was going to."
Randy quickly pulled on his own pants, trailing behind John as he left the room. "But, John-"
"No, Randy. I'm gone. Forever." John grabbed his keys as he passed them, walking out the front door. "I hope you enjoyed it, because that's the last time it'll happen."
"John!"