(no subject)
Hello everyone...
I'm new here, so I brought you a fic. :)
Title: Control (Part I)
Pairing: Randy Orton/OC, Wade Barrett/OC, Randy Orton/Wade Barrett/OC. Does include slash.
Rating: NC-17.
Summery: Randy wants Amy, but she's Wade Barrett's girlfriend. She offers herself to him...but there's a catch. PWP, smut.
Disclaimer: This is the product of my own imagination.
A/N: OH HAI GUISE. Let me talk to you about my fic. I only got into wrestling very recently (sometime last year?) when my boyfriend flicked it on, and guess what? I fell in love with the feud between Randy & Wade, and like the pervert I am, regularly tuned in to see them touching each other. It just so happens that “I-hate-you-but-this-feels-so-good” has been a big kink of mine since forever, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t find any Randy/Wade slash fic out there. So I decided to follow Rule 34(a) of the Internet and make my own! There is a girl in here too, who basically acts as a catalyst for these two to get together. I tried to make her as plain as possible, so if any readers of the fic find themselves identifying with her and imagining themselves in her place, well, that’s just a happy misfortune. >_> Under the cut are a list of more explicit warnings.
ETA: Oh, and please tell me if it sucks. I've been out of the habit a few years. Be honest. I can take it!
also I really hope this LJ cut works.
WARNINGS: This fic is PWP or Porn Without Plot. It contains extremely graphic sex. Please do not read if you are underage in your country. There is a male/male/female threesome and yes, there is male-on-male action, so if that offends you, this is not for you. There is an established open relationship, so, um, if that’s weird to you for some reason I would stay away. Now down to the sexy warnings. This is a list of what this fic contains, so if you don’t want spoilers, skip ahead, but if you want to check nothing in here massively freaks you out, here we go: threesome (m/m/f), double penetration, anal sex, bondage, choking, orgasm denial, a hint of painplay, and TOO MANY RUN ON SENTENCES. It’s got a weird writing style because it’s told from Randy’s POV, so you’re in his head. And it hasn’t been beta’d or edited. And it’s a fucking 10K monster, rawr. OH, and the tense changes half way through. And a woman gets punched in the face.
Ok. I think that’s everything. I hope someone out there enjoys it.
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She was driving Randy mad.
Her name was Amy. Brunette. 5’ 8”. DD. And Wade Barrett’s girlfriend.
She sure as hell didn’t act like it. Everyone was game to her - no matter man or woman, superstar or soundcrew. He saw her charm them, flirtily lick her lips, twirl her curls around her finger, sway her hips. What did he care? It was no pretence that he and Barrett did not get along - it was nothing to Randy if the girl was a flirt.
But somewhere coiling in the heat of his stomach, it was. She stirred him. He knew he was being played. And he knew she knew he knew. She didn’t care either. She even made a joke out of it. Like it was a secret between them. When she chewed her lip and stared up at him with those huge brown eyes, she looked so fucking innocent that he wanted - he didn’t even know what he wanted. And then she would smirk, and he would go crazy again. His head would be filled with the roar of his pounding blood and nothing else, and he’d find himself pressing her against a wall, trapping her between his arms, looming over her and hard and she would give him this coy little glance and tilt her head and slip out, brushing her hand against him and - she was a bitch. A crazy bitch. But he sort of loved it.
He started beating Barrett harder, just to try and take it out on her. He’d see her before the match, hanging off Wade’s arm and shooting him these furtive looks and then standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek - and that would turn into fully-fledged tonsil hockey, not without a little bit of groping, and thenBarrett would look at him and smirk and act all smug, like he knew everyone wanted his girlfriend. Fuck, Randy wanted her. He wanted her on the floor every time he saw her. And seeing her make such a show with Barrett made him feel like some kind of voyeur, something dirty, like she was doing it just for him. And then Barrett would stare at him with those icy-blue eyes that cut to Randy’s core and he would be such a swirling mess of intensity that somehow it all got took out on Barrett in the match. Barrett did not seem to mind. He kept right on taunting Randy.I’m in your head.
The truth was, Wade Barrett was...interesting. He could really fight. He was bigger, holding perhaps an inch or two over Randy, and built sturdier and stronger. That he also refused to allow Randy the psychological advantage frustrated the superstar to no end. Their feud had been planned, of course - he just hadn’t expected so many raw feelings to actually get involved. He thought he actually hated Barrett for daring to challenge him. Nothing was better than getting his hand wrapped in the other man’s hair and pulling him along, making him crawl on his knees, throwing him into the ring and seeing the breath knocked out of him - and then Randy’d look up, and Amy would be there, ringside, staring at him and her lips would sort of pout and her hand would just be brushing over her breast and he would get so angry.
It had gone on like this for months. He and Barrette feuded onstage and off - he only had to step in a room to know if Barrett was in there, tension crackling across the room like lightening as everyone held their breath. Then the bigger man would barge past him, slamming their shoulders together, and Amy would skip after him, eyeing Randy all the time. And then Randy would feel it again, seething angry and hot and somehow messy inside, a little turned on but mostly wanting to fucking dominate something or someone before he exploded.
But one day, he just exploded.
He had just watched Barrett push her up against a wall, tongue down her throat, her small hands palming at his trunks and she had fucking moaned and Randy had barely held onto his self control as he stalked back around the corner. He paced the corridor there, waiting for his name to be called, feeling the blood and heat drain to his cock and trying to suppress it when she came around the corner.
Let me know where he hurts you and I’ll come kiss it better afterwards.
And without thinking, his hand shot to her hair, and he spat what if it’s my cock?
And Amy looked up at him with those huge brown eyes and sank to her knees, right there in the middle of the corridor, and pressed her face to his crotch, pressed her lips, her mouth, against him, hot even through the shorts, and he felt the wetness of her tongue and suddenly his head was spinning and there was no hope in trying to stop it, he was hard, and he looked down and she was still looking up at him, still moving over his cock with those huge oh-so-innocent eyes on his own -
Then she took her mouth away, and said a single word. Threesome?
His hand was still in her hair - he threw her head aside, blood pounding, rock hard, swirling inside, frustrated and angry and horny and confused, and he walked away from her, back to where he should be, back to his match, trying to focus -
And Wade Barrett was stood there in the corridor, leaning up against the wall where he’d been kissing his girl not a minute ago, arms folded and he casually glanced over at Randy and and and his eyes fucking dipped to Randy’s crotch, he saw, he smirked and before Randy could even process that (and the bulge in Barrett’s shorts, oh god), his name was being called and he was walking out in front of thousands of people and hoping to hell that he wasn’t about to come in his pants.
That match got pretty messy.
Randy always prided himself on self-control in the ring. He was the viper, lightening fast, quick, agile, measured attacks. He could not be touched. But Barrett seemed to be trying his best. His hands were everywhere - even when Randy had him on his knees, Barrett curled his fingers into Randy’s thighs, lifted his head and gave him such a burning look that Randy almost screamed aloud in frustration. He wanted to punish Barrett for making him face this, for managing to win even when he was at Randy’s mercy, for being so- so fucking intense and for putting their bodies together, for the slick of their sweat and for just looking at him that way, for planning this...! No matter where he threw the larger man, Barrett came crawling back, slamming his shoulder into Randy’s stomach, landing a kick to his jaw, filling him so full of adrenaline and then, then, pulling his wasteland - slipping a hand between Randy’s thighs, pawing at his ass and lifting him above his head until it was all Randy could do to hang on to Barrett’s biceps.
He slipped out of it - he was meant to win this one - but he had no patience for the set routine. He wanted this to end now. Now, before he felt any more of Barrett pushing against him, and before he had to think about what those looks meant, and before the friction against his hard cock made him do anything he’d regret. He slammed the man to the mat and laid over him, hissing in his ear: tell your girlfriend I said no.
Barrett got the message. He didn’t move. The ref hit three - Randy’s theme music started up, but there was none of the calm it usually signalled. This victory was hollow. Randy did not want, for once, to bask in its glory - he wanted to get offstage and wank until he was raw, and then he wanted to punch something very hard. He was seething. His breath came in great pants as he tried to calm himself, his shoulders heaving. His walk back offstage was stiff and controlled, his face a mask, and he deliberately turned left instead of right, avoiding where he knew she’d be waiting. It was a longer route, but that just gave him more time to clear his head. He felt like he was drunk - and in his reckless rage, he wanted to get drunk, anything to clear his head, to make him forget what had just happened, what he felt.
He sped up, grinding his teeth together, clenching and unclenching his fists. He all but kicked his door open when he got there, and went straight to the wardrobe, rummaging around at the bottom of it amidst a jumble of boxes until he found what he was looking for. Whiskey. He screwed the top off and didn’t even take a gulp - he took a draft, as much as he could bear, holding it to his mouth for a good thirty seconds and feeling his throat burn. He wanted it to kick in as soon as possible, and only then would he sit on his bed, drunk, and wank, and let himself think about whoever he wanted to because he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. He broke off and took a gulp of air, then raised the bottle to his lips again, pouring it straight down his throat. It was a large one, but it soon ran dry. Frustrated as he was, Randy resisted the urge to throw the thing aside and put it down carefully. He flopped onto his bed, head spinning, already questioning his actions, when she stormed in.
“You’re a fucking pussy.”
Randy rose, eyes narrowed. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, you’re a FUCKING PUSSY,” Amy yelled. “Your precious self-control is a sham because you can’t face the truth.”
He swayed on his feet. “What is the truth?”
“You want to fuck me. But you’re afraid.”
Randy started to laugh. “Afraid? Of what?”
“You know I can do things to you that would shatter that self-control. I’d make you beg. You’d never allow yourself to experience something this intense because you can’t handle it.”
Randy punched her in the face. And then he kissed her.
They stumbled about the room in each other’s arms, Randy’s hands cradling her face, Amy’s scrabbling at his trunks. She didn’t seem to give a damn that he’d struck her, only that she was fiercely determined not to lose the battle of their tongues. She bit his bottom lip and dug her nails into his hips, whined right into his mouth. Randy staggered backwards until he fell onto his bed, her on top of him, until in a messy roll they were somehow sideways and she was under him again and he was ripping off her shirt, she was dragging her hand against the front of his trunks, throwing her head back and he went for her throat, bit and sucked and ground into her hand, so hard, and he thrust weakly when she groaned and rubbed at him, and he was, shit, he was suddenly drunk -
Amy shoved at his shoulder and rolled out from under him, jumped up and wriggled out of her skirt, kicked off her shoes. She stood there in her bra and panties, hands on her hips, regarding Randy as he rolled over to stare at her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Randy said nothing.
“It means Wade as well. I want to hear you say it.”
He wouldn’t.
“SAY IT.”
“...Yes,” burst from him at last, and just like that, Amy fell on him again, smothering him in kisses, sliding to her knees and tugging off his kneepads, his boots. Randy struggled to sit up. The world had suddenly got very dizzy, very quickly. He felt her doing something to his ankles, but when he looked down he could only see the top of her head near his crotch, and he almost moaned, and the pressure in his dick seemed to increase even more. Amy looked up, and smiled, and then her fingers were under the band of his trunks at last, and she was pulling them down over his legs and his cock sprang free.
She crawled onto the bed. “Lie down.”
He did so, and Amy slithered up his body and laid on top of him, pressing into him, fixing her small hands around his wrists and lifting them above his head. Using her left hand to keep them there, she used her right to draw forth two long silk strips from the cups of her bra, neatly tying one to each wrist as Randy tried mindlessly to rub against her, eyes rolling back in his head.
She cupped his face in her hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Randy. I need to know you’re okay with this. You can say stop anytime.”
His glare was answer enough, but he replied anyway. “Tie me up, or I will fucking kill you for being such a cocktease.”
Amy obeyed, quickly spreading his arms and tying them to their respective corners of the bedframe. She slipped down his body to his ankles - that’s what she’d been doing, the sneaky bitch - and looped the ties around the slats of the bed quickly until he was restrained. She hopped off his when she had finished and looked him over. His chest was heaving and sweat dotted his brow, but she was most interested in the hard cock that lay nestled in his dark curls. She ran a finger up his thigh, just skirting past touching him there. “You have no idea how good you look like this,” she told him matter-of-factly, and Randy just glowered at her. He was tense and hyperaware - so at the smallest noise, his eyes shot over her shoulder to the door.
It had opened, and there in the doorway leaned Wade Barrett.
Randy’s dick twitched and molten lava swirled in his stomach when Barrett looked him in the eyes, then looked him over. He felt a jolt between his groin and his stomach and could not tell if he was more turned on or more afraid. He realised he was tied down, and then he was definitely a bit afraid, and he tried to calm himself and slow his breathing. Amy rose and walked over to stand by her boyfriend’s side. He had changed in the minutes after the match - now in dark denim jeans and a white button down shirt, he somehow looked very much in control. Randy tore his gaze away from the cold blue eyes, trying to look anywhere else. He noticed the other man had bare feet and fought the insane urge to laugh. Instead, he turned his head and looked very hard at the ceiling until the noises drew him back in.
Amy raised a hand and curled her fingers in the crisp white shirt, rising on her tiptoes and kissing the other man. Barrett enveloped her, his right hand smoothly undoing her bra while his left slid down to her underwear. He gently rubbed her through her panties, slowly, kissing her openly, messily, lazily - Amy whimpered. He parted from her and threw her bra aside after she wiggled out of it, his left hand still slowly rubbing against her. And as hard as he tried to drag his eyes away, Randy couldn’t help but watch. Amy looked up at Barrett with an air of expectant obedience, and the man traced the index finger of his right hand over her lips.
“Please him.”
Randy didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but hearing Barrett’s silky, deep voice order his girlfriend so made his cock pulse. Amy nodded and turned her eyes back on Randy, slinking towards him, sliding out of her panties as she approached. She crawled between his legs and lowered her mouth to his crotch, and then the world became red and pink and warm and wet and tight and Randy’s hips bucked as much as they could and his shoulders were straining and she was such a fucking tease. Her mouth moved slowly down his shaft, her fingers wrapped around his base, the other hand tickling lightly over his balls, and Randy brushed the brink of madness. Ever so slowly, she slid her mouth back up to the head of his cock, pressed her tongue to the underside and he thrashed in his bonds and groaned. After a pause that seemed to last an eternity, Amy began to bob her head, setting up a rhythm painfully, deliberately unsatisfying, her hand very softly jacking the base of Randy’s cock and he was biting almost clean through his lip trying to stop himself from swearing or begging or crying, he didn’t know which. When her fingertips danced over his balls again, he made a desperate grunt. The last remaining corner of his brain remembered the word “embarrassment” but didn’t seem to be able to apply it because it was too busy laughing hysterically, and he squeezed his eyes shut as Amy began her ascent again, gently hollowing her cheeks.
The bed sank a little. “Shut him up,” Barrett growled.
Randy began panting again as he felt her mouth leave him, opened his eyes but refused to look down, fixating on the ceiling directly above him when Amy’s lovely pussy came into view. She straddled his face and looked down at him, stroked her fingers along his cheekbone, and that was when a hotter, tighter mouth closed around Randy’s cock. He cried out, a guttural sound of surprise and pleasure, and his hips bucked, the top of his cock hitting the back of Barrett’s throat. Amy lowered herself onto his mouth, and Randy felt a large hand wrap around the base of his shaft, rough and warm, and begin to pump as he moaned into her pussy. He began to lick as best he could, scraping his teeth gently across her clit, then darting his tongue actually inside her. He struggled to concentrate as his head swam and Barrett continued to suck him off, not teasing like Amy had, rough and quick and oh-so-sweet after he had waited so long. Amy’s fingers massaged his scalp and she hummed happily as he continued his ministrations as best he could, flicking his tongue, tasting her sweet warm wetness, sharp and good, making her gasp and shudder, dig her fingers into him, tracing his tongue to spell out her name, sucking her, gently hinting at nibbling and then fucking her with his tongue as ohgod Barrett starts doing something to him and he doesn’t know what but it makes him moan into her again, and the idea of his enemy down there, the one who looked so powerful moments ago sucking his cock makes Randy ache inside.
He can’t do it any more - his jaw hurts and he can’t even figure out how to move a single muscle in his body. It feels like Barrett’s grip on his cock, his hot mouth, is melting everything inside, and Randy gives up trying, until Amy slips down him and presses her mouth against his, tasting herself. Her tongue flicks out against his lips and he parts them weakly, reduced to a few spasms of the hips, barely holding back the moans as Barrett continues his assault. Amy seems to realise she’s not getting anything out of him and slides a little further down his body, nuzzling his neck until she gasps and it takes Randy a moment to figure out what’s happening but it turns out Barrett’s a very talented guy and probably ambidextrous. He doesn’t let up pumping on Randy’s dick, but Amy’s moaning and writhing and the most filthy things come out of her mouth (more oh deeper please please oh god jesus more Wade baby please harder, HARDER) and then she’s biting Randy’s neck and nibbling his ear and his dick is still warm and wet and there’s sliding and heat and pressure and tightness in his balls and fuckshitfuck Barrett’s doing ohgod and it’s so good and he presses his lips together and won’t allow himself to make a peep but that just makes it worse and Amy is still talking (god, Wade, I want your cock, please, please fuck me, oooh c’mon, please, yes, more, more, fuck me Wade, your fingers are so good I’m gonna - oooooh, please, don’t stop, fuck you, tease, I just want - I just, oooh) and Randy is trying to thrash and writhe but he’s all tied down and he think he’s going to come down Barrett’s throat and the world is red and his blood is hot and pounding and then -
The tight heat around his dick is gone and tears come to his eyes at the effort not to cry out, but Amy is scrabbling at his wrists and suddenly his hands are free again. Amy climbs off him and for the first time, Randy looks at Wade Barrett, who has just sucked his dick. He’s not looking at Randy. The fucker didn’t even take his clothes off. He’s knelt there in his dark jeans and a white shirt and there’s just a couple of strands of his black hair falling over his forehead, like this is a completely casual everyday exercise for him. His hands are around Randy’s ankles, untying the ropes, except he draws them loose and wraps them around his knuckles when he’s done. And then he looks up.
Randy feels his nerves set alight as Barrett’s eyes hit him - his chest roars and curls in on itself, edges glowing. A bead of precum slips down the side of his wet dick, cold in the air, and Randy pushes himself up into a sitting position and he can’t help but stare. His breath seems to be caught in his throat and something inside him is rising, hot, possibly rage combined with the urge to throw Barrett down and push his dick past those lips again, but this time he wants to call the shots, he wants to fuck that mouth hard and use him, and he feels like a fucking animal -
Then Amy is between them again, and she’s kneeling and facing Randy and lifting her hands and she must know what’s coming because Barrett slips one of the silk strips around her wrists, ties them together above her head, and uses the other one as an impromptu rope - and they’ve clearly fucking thought this through and planned it because Randy has never paid much attention to the light fitting but Barrett ties the silk around it, leaving his girlfriend kneeling up on the bed, knees spread and hands suspended above her head, pulling her body taunt, and Amy’s chest is rising and falling pretty quickly, her lips parted a little but her mouth falls open and her head back when Barrett runs his fingers over her thigh from behind -
“Oh please, please, please,”
But he ignores her. She’s facing Randy, full-frontal, while the other man feels her up from behind, tracing his fingertips lightly across her stomach and dragging them over her nipples, smoothing his palms down her sides and edging towards her pussy but stopping just short. Amy moans in frustration but Randy likes it. Let her see how it feels. Her face is flushed and she bites at her lip, rocking her hips against the air, begging for attention. Randy can smell her, sweaty and sexy, can smell her pheromones and her wetness, and he wants to throw himself at her and fuck her like a madman but he restrains himself. Barrett’s huge hands are still wandering her body, slowly, massaging her thighs and rubbing circles over her hips, working closer, closer until he brushes a thumb over her clit and her whole body shudders-
“Why don’t you just fuck me already?!”
Barrett’s lips are gliding over her neck, and Randy sees him smile, then laugh into her skin. “Beg me.”
“I am. Wade, please, I am begging you...”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Please, oh god, please, just fuck me. I need it, I’m so - aaah...”
She melts against his body when his fingers begin to explore her, and Barrett lifts his face from her skin and looks Randy in the eye. “I think we should let our guest have the honour.”
His other hand is rummaging in the pocket of his jeans, and he holds out a small silver packet. Randy, suddenly galvanized, crawls forward and takes it, torn between feeling ashamed of his nudity or being too horny to care. He rips it open and quickly rolls the condom onto his dick, not looking up, actually blushing. He’s kneeling up too now, so close to her, and he can feel the heat coming off her, hear her breathy little keening noises, and Wade tells him -
“She’s been a good girl. You don’t have to tease her. Fuck her hard.”
Amy makes a long, drawn-out sigh and lightning strikes right through Randy and seems to churn, burning, in his stomach. His hand catches her hip whilst the other one guides his cock into her, and the angle is a little awkward at first but he gets it, he slides in, and there is nothing, nothing like this. He looks up into her face and the big brown eyes are wide and so alive that he knows she is feeling the same way. And then there is no more time for abstract feelings, there’s only the here and now, the heat, the wetness, the tightness, the nerve melting, dizzying movement, the snap of his hips and plunging into her, her delicious white throat, the noises she makes, soft cries, needy and desperate, and he’s drunk but this really is happening, this is truly amazing - and he’s a machine, fucking her hard, as ordered, harder and harder, slamming into her, making her call out in pleasure, one hand still on her hip and the other finding her clit again, gently rubbing, biting at her throat, sucking -
“She’s gonna get louder.”
And amidst the blur of sound and sensation, Randy somehow slows down a little, pauses, and hears her: oh Wade yes yes yes please yes do it oh OH god you’re - fucking huge - uh, OH, god, yes, fuck...and he can, he can - fucking feel it, he can feel Wade through her, and the way his cock is rubbing inside her and the way she’s - she’sfilled and he can feels it when Wade starts to move in her ass and he’s damn well going to move too and then there’s all sorts of rubbing and wetness and Amy is no longer moaning but all out screaming despite Barrett telling her to shut up, shut up, and Randy is ever so close and he starts to rub her roughly, fuck her as hard as he can, dips his head to lick at her breasts, mindless, reduced to feeling, the whole world shrank to his senses and the size of his dick, the pulse of his blood, her sweat, her screams, which suddenly stop, and he looks up and Barrett’s hand is wrapped around her throat, squeezing a little, and that’s another hot instinctive throb throughout his body, of power, of control, and he sees her face, the fucking ecstasy on her face, and he loses it.
In one, two strokes, he cums in her, still furiously stroking her clit, still thrusting deep into her, feeling Barrett the other side, seeing her face until his eyes screw shut and his own mouth opens, panting and groaning, his neck lolling back, her tightening around him, slowing down, done now, just feeling her body move with the force of Barrett’s thrusts, her coming down from her aftershock and Barrett grunts and Randy knows he’s done too, and slowly they all come to a rest. Randy’s panting. He shouldn’t have drank the whiskey. Everything is a little funny but a whole lot incredible. He feels Barrett pull out of her and does the same, tugging off the condom and knotting it, throwing it aside, feeling his thighs weak and shaky, sitting down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. He hears Barrett zip his jeans back up (egotistical bastard fucked her with his clothes still on and just his dick out (damn, that shouldn’t be hot but it is)) and watches him let Amy down, untie her wrists, let her lean back into him as she sighs. He places a butterfly kiss on her throat where there are angry red marks from his fingers.
“You ok?” he asks quietly.
She turns her head and catches his lips with hers, kisses him softly. “You know just what I need. I love it when you choke me.”
And Randy knows he’s watching something between them that they had kept hidden until now - something more than flirting and sex to draw him in, the truth of them, the nature of their intimacy, and somehow he was more comfortable fucking her brains out then seeing this.
Maybe Amy guesses. She looks straight at him and grins. Any innocence that was ever in her eyes has been replaced with a mischievous glint. “You wanna go again?”
Randy is all ready to impress her with the fact that he’s been blessed with no refractory period when she continues. “I mean, with him.”
Part II over at my journal here, because the post was too big. ):