Title: I Wish We Were Older
Pairings: Randy Orton/Ted DiBiase (Randiasi)
Summary: Just the first time Ted met Randy…when they fell in love.
Disclaimer: The WWE is not mine nor are any of it's child branches, it is the 96% property of the McMahon's and God bless the bastards that work for them. I respect the sexual preferences and identities of all the wrestlers on WWE roster, and who they share a bed with is really none of my business.
Warnings: First time meeting, sexiness, pure UST
It was by chance that he ever saw it, but it changed his life.
She was a thing of beauty. Curves in all the right places, black lacquer catching the light and reflecting it in a thousand different colors. Not overly big, but she carried some muscle to her name. Polished silver steering, every inch sheer perfection. And she was right there in his driveway!
Eighteen year old Ted DiBiase Jr. couldn't resist.
Ted walked right up to it, taking in every detail hungrily. He was afraid he would start drooling, and wiped his mouth for good measure. A small spoiled rotten part of him squealed that his dad must've gotten it for him. He got all excited for a moment, resisting the urge to start squealing like a prepubescent girl and jump up and down. A single thought brought him back down.
"Momma wouldn't allow it" he grumbled to himself, trying not to pout as he brushed his fingertips over the thick handles.
But still, a real live Harley in his driveway! He let his fingers drift over every inch of the smooth surface, sun-warmed and all that was beauty. Was it sad that he was getting more turned on by the bike than his ex-girlfriend? Ah, whatever, she was a total skank anyways.
Ted fingered the seam of the leather seat, giving a little shiver at the buttery-smooth give beneath his touch. His cerulean eyes fell upon the helmet latched onto the back, also darkly lacquered. Ted curled one hand under the rim, lifting it up so he could take a look at the design on the back. The name "ORTON" was scrawled across it in a snake-like pattern, a rebellious anarchy symbol painted just below it in blood red.
//Orton?// Ted's brow creased as he mulled the name over //Daddy's friend Cowboy Bob? The wrestler? I know he had friends over, but who could-?//
Ted nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning in the gravel to face who had so rudely snuck up behind him. A man a bit older than him walked up, stopping just close enough to be polite. He wore a leather jacket, streamlined sunglasses covering his eyes. Shorn dark brown hair, tan skin, and ripped jeans that had the tell-tale signs of motorcycle work staining them. Boots, and silver belt buckle that caught the sun.
Ted gaped at bit at the tall drink of water standing before him. The man stepped closer, and young DiBiase's eyes wandered the trace the curves and bulge of muscles that lay hidden beneath his thin shirt and threadbare jeans. The brunette looked him over, an eyebrow raised curiously.
When Ted looked down, he realized he was still holding the motorcycle helmet between his palms.
"I'd 'spose this is yours?" Ted drawled, trying to look cool as he carefully hooked the helmet back onto the seat. He hadn't expected an answer, and he was sure that if he did it wouldn't be the one he'd get.
"Yeah, it is."
From a viper's mouth to the man's lips, if snakes could talk they'd sound just like that.
"Really?" Ted perked up "This is your bike?"
"Yeah" the man circled around, standing on the other side of the seat "You like it?"
"Hell yeah" Ted looked over the motorcycle in newfound appreciation "It looks amazing. What kinda gloss do you use? How much mileage can it get?"
Ted lost himself in the older man's soft accent, a bit more northern than his own. Kentucky, maybe? Whatever it was, it was hot and turning him on faster than anything. He could barely and comment as the handsome God gave him all the details on this motorcycle. And he had thought this metal contraption was a work of beauty? Sexy?
//Oh baby// Ted let his eyes drag over the motorcycle //You don't know how good you've got it. Being ridden around all day by this Sex God?//
The blonde couldn't help but wet his lips, eyelashes going half-mast at the darker thoughts, //To be owned by someone like him? I wouldn't mind it…not one bit.//
A thought hit the young man suddenly, making him jump a bit, "Orton? You're…"
"Randy" the older man held out his hand, lips quirking "And I didn't catch your name?"
"Little Ted DiBiase Jr?" Randy snatched his hand, brushing a kiss across the knuckles with a flirty smile "You've grown since the last time I saw you. You filled out nicely."
"Uh, thanks" Ted flushed, too many thoughts bombarding him "Son-of-a-bitch, that means your Cowboy's son. Randy? Oh shit, man."
"What?" Randy looked down at himself, giving a humorless chuckle "It's that hard to believe?"
"No, no!" Ted got himself flustered "It's just…you look nothing like your dad."
The DiBiase gene kicked in, that cocky smile gracing his lips, "In fact, you're smoking in that jacket."
"Don't I know it" the older man wet his lips, lifting his sunglasses.
Ted caught his breath at those ice blue eyes, nearly losing it right there. Shit, this man was hot as sin and twice as tempting. It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself, which flexed into fists at his sides before he managed to shove them into his back pocket.
//Get a hold of yourself, DiBiase, be cool.//
Randy cast a lazy glance at the house, seeing their parents entering. Fucking cockblockers, the lot of them. Here he was reeling in this cute blonde and the presence of his fucking father wasn't going to help him.
"How 'bout I take you for a ride?" Randy inquired darkly, running his fingers along the fine leather of the seat "Give you a real feel?"
Ted bite his bottom lip, the cockiness returning, "Of the bike or something a bit more softer?"
"Baby, soft is the last thing you'll find on my body" Randy leaned forward on the bike, eyes smoldering now "Whadda say, Teddy?"
Oh, that nickname made him melt coming from that fine gravel voice.
"You've only got one helmet, Randy" Ted cocked his hips, smirking when those icy eyes flickered down to the curve of his jeans "However am I gonna protect myself?"
"We'll ride dangerous for a while" Randy's eyes burned paths into his fine body "Get a feel for the road, ya know?"
"I think I do" Ted couldn't stop the lusty husk in his drawl, stepping closer "Count me in."
"You first, baby" Randy manhandled the blonde onto his thick machine, desire making his jeans a bit tighter when a low groan came from the younger man. Ted slipped back on the seat, making room by knocking the helmet into the gravel. Randy couldn't have given less of a fuck, swinging one long leg over the seat and straddling the bike. The blonde eased up behind him, curling their bodies to fit almost perfectly.
//Oh, this boy is gonna be mine by the end of the day."
"Hold tight" Randy growled, strong arms looping around his waist.
"Like that?" the sexy drawl drifted into his ear, hot breath washing over the sensitive skin.
"Oh yeah, baby, just like that" Randy hissed, both men slipping on their sunglasses.
"Randall" came the unamused voice of his father.
They both looked over to see Bob Orton and Ted DiBiase standing there, not happy in the least bit.
"What, Daddy?" Ted scowled at his father, trying not to use the word cockblock but failing to find a more appropriate word "I ain't doin' nothin' wrong, am I?"
"Get off that before you break your neck" DiBiase pointed at the ground, little Bret peaking out from behind his father's leg "Now."
"What the hell are you doing, Randall?" Orton scowled at his son "Nevermind, you don't think. Get off that and let that boy go."
"Fuck that" Randy smirked, the blonde behind him jumping when he revved the engine to life.
But it was too late, Randy kicked up the stand and revved hard. The bike tossed gravel everywhere, Ted's shout of delight bouncing off each particle of dust and rock to echo around them. Both fathers watched in horror as their young sons raced off down the driveway, soon disappearing into one of the back roads.
"Aw shit" DiBiase scrubbed a hand over his eyes, then glared at his friend "I told you to keep that horndog on a leash!"
Bob coughed out a sigh, "I'm sorry, man. I can't stop him, and he sure as hell can't help himself."
Brett sighed a bit as well, but this was more wistful, "They're gonna be together forever."
Orton and DiBiase glared at the youngling, hoping to God he was wrong.