Summary: Mikes wants to 'discuss' the feud with Randy.
Disclaimers: Not Mine!
Mike was on his knees, licking along the thick ridge of the cock that was slammed inside his mouth . Hands were tangled in his hair, shoving him further down the column of meat that was attempting to choke him. His nose was pressed against dark curls and inhaling the masculine scent that the older man emitted. An odor of sweat, musk, and the faintest hint of something that was just Randy. It was enough to make him harder, pressing painfully against the denim of his jeans.
"You're such a good boy," Randy cooed, panting, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. His gray eyes were half lidded and blown almost black with arousal. His hips were rolling with each thrust into Mike's abused mouth. But Mike didn't care. "So amazing at this. Your mouth was built for sucking cock. Oh, fuck, yeah, do that. Keep doing that."
The suction was making Mike's cheeks hurt but the wanton expression flitting across that oh so handsome face was worth it. The taut abdominal was display every well earned muscle as he writhed. The veins in his neck were bulging. The tendons in his arms were flexing as he gripped Mike's hair roughly. The pre-cum was on his tongue, sweet and bitter, leaking rapidly. Randy's girth was massive. Thick. Perfect, just like the rest of the man.
Cum was coating his throat before he had a chance to react, Randy's carnal grunts teetering him on the verge of soiling his boxers. "I knew you were a cock sucker the first time I saw you," Randy smirked, pulling his jeans up, completely commando. "Pretty damn talented too. That might have been the best blow job I've ever gotten."
Mike couldn't help but preen, ignoring that his knees were rubbed raw. That his cock was twitching.
"What do you want, Mike? I wasn't expecting you to show up at my room at midnight," Randy commented, rising to his feet and walking towards the wet bar. "Drink?"
Mike listened to the tinkling of ice in a shot glass, heard the alcohol pouring. He watched Randy closely, staring at the sculpted lines of his back, at the tattoos. Funny, he'd never really paid attention to Randy before in a sexual light. "You haven't answered my question."
"…I think Creative wants us to feud."
Both of Randy's brows arched. "What?"
Mike nodded, taking a long drink of Jack, arousal beginning to ebb. "I, uh, didn't plan on giving you head. But you were so hot and I couldn't- Yeah. Ok. Anyways, I'm kind of sucking up to you. They want you to feud with me for the United States Belt. And I really don't want to go against you in the ring."
Randy frowned, sinking down on the bed beside Mike, not noticing Mike's nervousness. "I'm a contender for the WWE belt. Not the U.S. Belt. I don't want it."
"I guess they're tired of seeing you feud with the same people over and over again. I'm supposed to interrupt you tomorrow night. They… Didn't say anything to you?"
"They conveniently decided not to tell me," Randy growled, "Idiots. Look, you don't have to worry about it. I'm not going to take your title from you."
"Good because I have enough guys after my ass… That didn't sound right," Mike laughed, keeping his blush at bay as he thought about how slutty he came across by dropping to his knees and taking that plump, pole of flesh into his mouth and worshipping it like- "Yeah."
"We've never wrestled," Randy stated, face thoughtful. "It actually might be interesting to be in the ring with you. You've come a long way, Mike. You impress me."
Praise from Randy Orton was the biggest compliment a person could receive. He was known to be judgmental but completely fair in his assessments. It was the largest reason that Cody was on Smackdown instead of RAW. Once Legacy had been disbanded, Randy's evaluation of Ted and Cody had been the be all, end all for them. And as much as Randy adored Cody… Mike always assumed that Randy was a callous man for allowing his young lover to leave. But after listening to Ted… Randy Orton wasn't the monster the world made him out to be. "Thanks, Randy."
"I'll speak with McMahon tomorrow. I'll make sure this bullshit is cleared up. Unless… You want to wrestle me," Randy's voice was dripping with innuendo, smirking lecherously at him. "Is that it? You want to feel me in the ring? Bare skin against bare skin? Touching you. Rubbing you. My body sliding against yours. Is that it, Mike?"
Oh God. Mike's erection was at full mast. "I wouldn't say no."
"Good." Randy's arms were suddenly boxing him in, the older man straddling him. "How did you really want this night to end? Sure, you on my cock was good but I'd rather fuck that hot ass of yours."
"Don't say no," Randy purred, suckling on Mike's neck, biting at the tender flesh. Mike couldn't stop himself from moaning. Randy's hand cupped the bulge in Mike's jeans.
"Randy, are you seeing anyone?" Mike murmured, hips bucking against the devilish teasing.
"No. Not for a few months. Too many clothes," Randy scowled, wrenching the button up off Mike's body, tossing the material to the other side of the room. Mike whimpered, Randy licking a path down his throat, past his pectorals, lingering a few seconds on a nipple. "I never took you for a fag."
"Bi, thank you very much," Mike snapped, "And wanting you is everyone's personal fantasy."
"I never understood that. Why people can't stay away from me."
"Do you ever look in a mirror? You're perfect."
Randy's eyes flashed, "I'm not perfect. Far from it." A violent nip at Mike's stomach sent a shudder curling down his spine. Mike faintly wondered if that had something to do with Cody.
His jeans were unbuttoned, sliding past his thighs with his boxers. He was totally exposed to Randy Orton. Randy was gazing at him. Scrutinizing. It made Mike want to squirm underneath those calculating eyes; eyes that had seen both men and women from all walks of life. Mike wondered how he measured up in Randy's eyes. If he failed the inspection or passed. Because as attractive as Mike knew he was, he was no Cody Rhodes. He didn't have big blue eyes. Dark hair. Olive skin. A flawless physique.
"How do you want me?" Mike asked softly, his last encounter with another man being John Cena back in the days of Mike's feud with John.
"How do you like it?" Randy fired back, shimmying his pants off, cock hard, still glistening with saliva and cum.
"Rough and fast. I want you to pound into me."
Randy disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a tube of lube. "What?"
"I just… Wow. You're not as selfish as I always assumed you'd be."
"Yes please," Mike winked, spreading his legs obscenely.
The lube was warm across his hole, Randy's finger just barely grazing. It had been far too long since he'd last had a cock in his ass and from how large and wide Randy was; Mike wasn't going to leave disappointed. "You're tight," Randy said through clenched teeth, tip of his finger dipping in Mike's entrance. "Damn, Mike. You're going to break my dick in half."
"It's been a long time." Randy stroked the internal walls, stretching. Scissoring. Making Mike practically salivate with lust for the man. It had been too damn long since he'd last enjoyed being taken. Of having a huge cock ramming into him, brushing that sweet spot buried deep inside him. He was thrumming like a taut guitar string as he glanced at Randy's fully engorged shaft. Yeah, Randy would make him feel real good.
"I think I was born ready for this," Mike grinned, hole twitching in anticipation as that beautiful cock was guided closer and closer.
Inch by agonizingly inch slid slowly inside him, the pace soft and tender, the burning pain that always accompanied was absent, as Randy insured his comfort. Mike was surprised, gazing at that gorgeous face, looking at those stormy gray eyes. This wasn't the ogre that the rumors made him out to be. Mike was glad to be proven wrong about Randy Orton. He'd avoided Orton for years, not willing to have that infamous wrath rained down on him. Mike wondered if Cody had something to do with this rare side of Randy.
Mike nodded, moaning wantonly as he felt Randy's balls resting heavily against the smooth globes of his ass. Hot, liquid fire was licking at his blood, his heart thundering loudly, drowning out all noises but the sounds of their coupling. Mewls, whimpers, grunts, cries. It was an orchestra of porn that only made Mike's arousal flare to the point that he was fucking positive he was going to combust.
Randy's fingers were digging into his skin, leaving behind welts that would be there for days to come, reminding him exactly who he belonged to. Because after this night, Mike wasn't sure if he could say no to Randy Orton again. Wasn't sure he could stay away from him. Fuck, not with how Randy was hitting just the right spot, angling perfectly, filling him up like no other had.
He was stroking himself, loving that Randy's eyes were fixated on his cock pumping in his fist. Maybe this wasn't a one sided attraction. Maybe Randy was just as drawn to Mike as Mike was to Randy.
Shallow, deep thrusts had Randy's eyes closing, sweat beading on his forehead. It wasn't going to be long, not with how his balls were screaming at him to cum. Randy Orton was a flesh made god of sex that was making Mike's entire body alight with desire. His toes were curling. His stomach was fluttering. And his cock was pulsating wildly in his fist. Mike had had a lot of sex during his life but this… Nothing compared to sex with Randy Orton.
"Mike, cum," the order was short and to the point, something in that commanding voice sending Mike spiraling over the edge and into sweet, sweet oblivion of orgasm.
He was calling Randy's name, screaming it, semen coating his hand, dripping down onto his abs.
His climax signaled Randy's, brutal pistons of Randy's hips, Mike's channel clamping down on Randy's cock. The feeling of Randy's cum being spilled in him was enough to slam Mike into a too seldom second orgasm. The entire world was fading, on the verge of losing consciousness but the name that was being whimpered from Randy's mouth was one that had Mike's eyes snapping open and gazing at Randy in shock. "Randy?" he whispered.
Randy sighed, withdrawing, Mike wincing. "Let it go."
Mike watched as Randy wrapped one of the sheets around his waist, his expression troubled. "Randy. Come on, it helps to talk."
"It doesn't because I think about him more. Look, thanks. I needed this. You made me forget."
"If you love him, why'd you let him go?"
Randy's back stiffened, hand pausing on the doorknob of the bathroom, "Sometimes, you have to do what's right. Even though at the time it may not seem like it. I thought at the time that I was helping Cody. Not…" Randy glanced behind him at Mike, "I'll talk to McMahon tomorrow."
The door was shut, leaving Mike alone to his thoughts.
Randy still loved Cody.
But maybe… Mike could help ease the pain. Could help Randy heal.
He just wondered if Randy would welcome it.
The end. I know, I left it on a bad note! But I like stories that make you think about what could happen. :D