Author's Note: Well, it's been a while since I've updated anything. For those who are curious, I'm working a lot more than I have been—hence the lack of updates. But I'm off on Memorial Day so I should spend a lot of time updating.

In terms of this story…it kinda popped into my head. I'm not sure if I want to keep it as the one-shot cliffhanger that I originally intended because honestly, I have four other stories working on that need my dire attention and a new one that's starting pretty soon. Yet, I'm one to please the readers so I'll play it by ear.


The incessant pounding on the front door went on for about twenty minutes. For the first five minutes, he laid in bed and pretended he was asleep so she would go away. The last fifteen he spent in bed because he was an asshole like that. He knew why she was banging on his door in the middle of the night. And he knew if he wanted to, she would bang on the door all night until she got his attention.

She had his attention, all right. Now it was a matter of keeping it. It was no secret that Randy Orton had an attention span of a three-year-old child. If the interest wasn't related to wrestling, rims, or ass, Randy Orton simply did not give a fuck.

Deciding he needed to get up and see what she really wanted, Randy grabbed the closest pair of boxer briefs he could find and slipped them on. He yawned and wiped his eyes as he turned on the doorway light by the front door. He glanced through the peephole and saw exactly who it was. Surprise, surprise.

Randy stood at the door for about a minute and contemplated whether he should let her in. At 10:45 at night, it was late enough for dinner yet convenient for an early booty call. Deciding that he would be pleased with either one, though he preferred the latter, Randy slowly opened the door.

"Yes?" He asked.

Naomi Withers rubbed her bare shoulders in the moonlight. She didn't know exactly why she was at Randy's apartment. The idea sounded great in her head about 30 minutes ago. But she also knew her visit that night was along the same lines of the visit she had to his place several times in the past. He was a drug and she was a crackhead ready for a fix.

Standing in front of Randy, who obviously looked annoyed, made her re-think the sudden late-night visit, however. "I'm lonely."

Randy lit up a cigarette. Right about now, he was jonesin' for a joint but a Marlboro was going have to do. He was already in enough shit with the hotel room incident overseas; he didn't need to give his haters another reason why he should be fired. "You're always lonely, Naomi."

"Fine, I'll go back to my apartment. Forget I even bothered you."

Randy quickly grabbed her hand and Naomi froze in her tracks. He blew a plume of smoke away from her face. As he looked at Naomi, he knew why she was visiting him so late that night. It was the same reason she visited him late every other night. "Come in. It's cold outside."


Naomi Withers and Randy Orton were part-time lovers. They hated each other with a passion. Yet, they fucked each other with the same angry passion.

A couple years ago, Naomi moved into Randy's complex just as he was on house show suspension for failing the Wellness Policy. He was outside smoking a cigarette when he noticed a pretty brunette, carrying heavy moving boxes upstairs to her new apartment. Extending a hand to her while checking her out at the same time, Randy helped Naomi settle into her apartment. In return, she invited him over for a home cooked meal.

So it began. A relationship that was border lining on being romantic yet beyond just platonic friendship. It was a cat and mouse game of getting to know each other. Randy would occasionally flirt with Naomi, complimenting her on her looks, clothing, and especially her cup size. Naomi would roll her eyes and give Randy a retort of some fashion, though she secretly liked the attention.

Settling into his king-sized bed, Naomi stripped down to her underwear and curled up against Randy, who reeked of cigarette smoke. "Aren't you going to shower?"

"Aren't you going to show me how you use your DSLs?" He countered.

"My DSLs?"

"Yes, your dick-sucking lips, DSLs." Randy explained

"Fuck you, Orton."

"If you want." He smiled. He caressed Naomi's face in the darkness, emitting a soft murmur from her. When he was home, it was same routine. He would get off from the road; she'll make him dinner and leave to go to her apartment—just to come back several hours later. "What happened this time?"

"Nothing, Randy." Naomi yawned. "I'm just lonely."

How in the fuck can you be lonely? "Again?"

"Let's not start this right now, Randy. I've had a long night."

"Fine." Randy conceded. For a few years, he's been respectful of the situation Naomi was in and keeping his opinions and commentary to himself. However, he was finding himself growing weary of the real-life One Tree Hill drama. What was he expecting? He wasn't entirely sure. It was a routine that Randy was used to. It was also a routine he wanted to put an end to before feelings were caught. "Scary, isn't it?" He whispered.

Naomi yawned and rolled over. "What's scary?"

"That you're here with me…" He whispered as he pulled her body closer to his. The heat between the pair was electric. It was only a matter of time before a condom was slipped on and pillows were bitten. "…and not with your man at home."