A/N: Hey guys! I'm trying to inspire my best friend Ashley, so I figured I'd go back to our old roots. When we first met we constantly wrote fics for each other, and those fics ALWAYS had the same pairing: Ashley(OC)/Randy Orton and Bree(OC)/John Cena. The way Ashley puts it, "If Bree/Cena/Ash/Orton fics were crack, we'd be the richest drug dealers alive." (: hahaha so I started this up with an idea I've had in my head for a while. YES, I am going to finish ALS. And NO, I don't have ANY idea where this fic is going, how long it will be, or if its even any good hahaha. So well, here you go(: I'll post chapter 2 if anybody actually reviews on this thing hahaha.
Disclaimer: I only own myself and Ashface. Actually, she owns herself haha. This is completely fictional.
Summary: Best friends John Cena and Bree Giovanni are the biggest nymphomaniacs in the WWE. They'll sleep with anyone, anywhere, anytime - but they won't sleep with each other. Until Randy and Ashley Orton make bets with them that will change their lives. John Cena/OC, Randy Orton/OC
Warnings: Some sexual content, and a whole lot of swearing.
Entering the dark hotel room, I sighed quietly before flipping the lights on. He didn't budge. I smiled at the sight of the little blond attached to his body. I went to her side of the bed and picked up her clothes off the floor, shaking her gently.
"Honey." I whispered quietly, watching her pry her eyes open. "Time to go, sweetheart."
She was half out of it, looking over at the sleeping wrestler beside her, groaning quietly as she accepted her clothes from my hands. I kept a small smile on my lips as she got dressed under the covers quickly, stumbling out of the bed, still half-drunk and half-asleep. I watched her pick up her purse and scribble something down, turning back to me.
"Could you give this to him?" She mumbled, pressing a piece of paper into my palm.
I didn't even need to look at it to know it was her name and phone number.
I smiled, "Of course. Have a nice night."
She sent me a tiny smile, nodding as she stumbled through the door. I waved, smiling brightly.
I slammed it shut, my smile fading, a groan escaping my lips. Rolling my eyes, I turned around to face him. Johnny was sitting up, grinning at me, a blanket covering his naked body.
"Pathetic." I rolled my eyes again, crumpling up the note she gave me, tossing it into the garbage.
"Thanks for that, babe. I thought she'd never leave." He sent me his trademark pantie-dropping smile.
"Yeah, yeah." I sighed, shrugging and climbing into his bed behind him, immediately rubbing his shoulders. He let out a soft, slow sigh, rolling his head in a slow circle.
"How'd you do tonight?" He asked quietly.
"Mmm..black hair, blue eyes, and almost every inch of his body tattooed. Just the way I like 'em. Bad kisser, good at everything else. And I mean everything." I smiled, thinking back to my sexcapade less than an hour ago. "How was blondie?"
"Average. She had the most annoying moan." He chuckled, then proceeded to give me an example in a high pitched, squeaky voice. Kind of like Minnie Mouse.
"Oh my god...oh my..oh my..oh oh oh..JOHN! JOHN! JOOOOHHHHNNNN! OH MY GOD! OHHH YES OHH!"
My lips parted in shock, before I fell into a fit of giggles, pressing my forehead against his bare back.
"But she was good with her tongue." He shrugged, laughing lowly.
"Go take a shower, wipe any trace of hoe off of you." I ordered, patting his back gently. John groaned softly as he stood up, letting the blankets and sheets drop. His nakedness didn't phase me one bit, I'd seen it too many times. This man hates clothes.
He leaned over and gently kissed my forehead, shooting me another smile before walking off. While he showered, I did the usual - called the front desk and asked for clean sheets, blankets and pillows to be sent up. Then while the maid made the bed, I organized John's clothes - dirty and clean.
This has been our routine since we first started hanging out. I had been a WWE Diva for a year when Cena and I really started talking to each other on a daily basis. We found a common love for sex - with whoever, whenever. We're both nymphomaniacs, and we can't help it. John complained about how he never knew how to make the girls leave after the sex, so I offered my services. I didn't mind being rude or mean to these girls, I don't know them nor do I care one bit about them. So he would have sex with a girl, send me a text message, and I would come to his room to get rid of her and take care of him.
He relied on my back/shoulder massages to get him through the night. We became best friends fast.
John and I never slept together, never even kissed, but he treated me better than the girls he slept with. He wasn't a mean person, he never could be, but he didn't treat these girls like royalty the way he did with me. He always joked that I saved him, and for that he was going to worship me until I die.
My best friend Ashley - also a diva - was married to John's best friend, Randy Orton. They're both completely convinced that I'm in love with John and vice versa. I've never felt anything toward John Cena except the occasional ping of lust. Sure, I feel this ping of lust 24/7, but its normal, he is a sex god. Or so I've heard.
Ashley won't get off my back. She wants us together, and she wants it now. I keep trying to explain to her that I have no feelings for him what-so-ever, but does she ever listen? No. Its Ashley. Her head is almost as big as Orton's thunder thighs.
Although, there was an incident once. Once. It was nothing though.
I mean..all John said was that he wished I wasn't a diva so he could be with me. That's all.
It was nothing, really.
The bathroom door swung open and John walked out, dripping wet with a towel around his waist loosely. I bit back my smile, throwing his clothes at him immediately, watching him smirk and turn right back around. I sighed softly and climbed into the bed, breathing in the scent of the clean crisp sheets.
I heard the door open again and the next thing I felt was a heavy weight on the bed. I turned my head to look at him, and I smiled lightly, feeling his heavy arm wrap around my waist.
He was the only man I would cuddle with, ever. And I knew I was the only girl he cuddled with.
We both had trust issues.
"Are we still riding with Ash and Fattie tomorrow?" I mumbled into his chest.
"Sadly." He laughed, petting my hair down softly.
"You prepared for 'the talk'"? I asked, looking up at him slowly. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
"Remind me why we're friends with them again?" He requested, and I smiled brightly.
"Because..." I paused, thinking it over. "Huh. I don't really know. We just..are."
"Because they've always been there for us, through thick and thin. And we owe them our lives." John said, smiling down at me. I smirked weakly.
"Yeah. I guess." I shrugged. I was bad with lovey dovey crap. He was not.
"I only like Orton because you like him." I stated, glaring at the thought of fathead.
"I know." He laughed, looking down into my eyes.
It was hard not to swoon at the sight of his baby blues and dimples.
He reached over and turned the lights off without saying a word about it, breathing softly in the dark.
"Goodnight, Bree." He whispered, his breath against my temple, his lips against it next.
I shivered slightly, "Sweet dreams, Johnny."
His grip tightened on me as he fell into a deep sleep, and I soon followed.
Like I always did, I had sweet dreams of Johnny.