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slashburdTitle: Laid Bare
Pairing: John Cena/Wade Barrett
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not know of any of this to be true, I don’t know or own these people (but I'd secretly love to!).
Summary: M/M Slash, bad language, smut
Written for the Spring Prompt 2011 Challenge on ff.net
*
Idly Wade kicked off his shoes and used his toes to hook and pull off his socks, unable to relax until barefoot since he was in his teens. He flexed his toes and felt the cool air-conditioned rush around his warm extremities and it made him smile. No longer was he bunking up with the other rookies, his position as a winner, a leader and Vince's favourite had pulled in enough rewards to enable him to have his own room and a nice one at that.
Stretching out across the bed he crossed his legs at the ankles and locked his hands behind his head. A night's work well done, another promo that well surpassed the skills of the amateurs around him who depended on him. It was a far cry from his old life, kicking around the streets of his home town just waiting on the call to join a promotion that really mattered.
Flicking the flat screen television on he scrolled the channels until he found the news and watched for the international headlines, only half listening as the knock at the door came. For a moment or more he debated whether or not to answer it, the pleasure of his own company not something he found much time for as his career took off. After rolling his eyes he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and wearily rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Who is it?”
“It's me... Cena.”
“What do you want Cena?”
“C'mon, open up man. I don't wanna do this through a door.”
Knowing it went against his better judgement Wade clicked the flickering screen back off, pushed himself up off the bed and went over to the door, twisting the knob with the only scrap of enthusiasm he could muster. As it swung back John was stood there, leaning on the door frame with one arm and smiling widely, the baggy white throwback vest only excelled in a lack of style by the embarrassing green basketball shorts that accompanied them. Wade knew that anyone who kidded themselves that Cena's character was only a character lived in a delusional state. The cheesy grins and bad one-liners had driven him crazy at first but he soon learned to tune out or occasionally tune in. Either way, what you saw was most definitely what you got.
“Hey, you look real tired.”
“Thanks Sherlock. I wondered why my eyes kept shutting every time I laid down on the bloody bed. Glad you cleared that up for me.”
The look on John's face sat somewhere between confusion and hurt. Wade knew that his smart retorts would be lost on someone as plain talking as John. That was something he'd never had to worry about during his time in the company of Jericho. Real deep conversation, a connection on that level of knowledge that led to shared in-jokes and late night talks that put the world to rights. What got to him most was that the moment NXT was over, even though he'd won it and was getting over with the crowds as the Second Coming of the Second Coming, Chris basically shut down on him. The calls stopped getting returned and the texts went ignored. Their easy manner turned into frosty exchanges that had petered away into nothing before Chris took his sabbatical.
Chris had said it was for his own good; that Wade needed to toughen up, get out there on his own and learn the hard way how to get on in the business. They'd known by then about the future of the Nexus angle and that as the leader he was going to be the lynchpin of the entire storyline. Wade couldn't be sure that it was that level of exposure that was the problem but his unrequited smouldering for his mentor had remained just that and had been extinguished entirely by the way things had deteriorated between them. Since the débâcle with his work permit and numerous other backstage scuffles with his co-rookies he'd retreated into himself and been less sociable than before. Isn't it just my luck, he thought, that Captain America would notice and want to come and cheer me up?
“So, what's happening with you?”
The killer smile and boundless Bourne-esque energy levels made it hard to be harsh with John and Wade found himself stepping aside, his gesture the closest he could get to a formal invitation for the interloper in his doorway to come in.
“John, its night time. Normal people go to bed, get some rest and wait for the next flight to the next show. That's my life at the moment and I imagine yours to be pretty much the same. Probably has been for long enough. However, you're sat on my bed rather than snoring in your own.”
“I don't snore!”
“Think again Mr Perfect. You sound like a pig with a blocked snout.”
John did little more than shrug the comment away, not taking it as the barb it might have been. He got back up off the bed where he'd perched and sat on the badly upholstered chair near the window instead, making sure not to lean on and pull down the haphazardly drawn drapes that were keeping the bright parking lot lights at bay. Wade perched on the edge of the bed, resisting the urging of his bare toes to curl into the unknown that was the pile of a hotel carpet.
“You were pretty believable out there tonight, sounded as if you meant some of it....”
The raised eyebrow didn't escape Wade's attention. He knew he'd gone further than the script and that the only reason he'd not had his hands slapped backstage was because he was doing just what creative wanted. Their overall plan of returning him to Raw and really running Cena into the ground until he was too broken to argue was in it's infancy but the more fuel Wade poured on the fire, the better they thought it made the storyline. The fake firing had seemed like the icing on the cake until now. This time he had a little more star power and was planning on cementing his place in the main event with John's help.
He didn't feel bad about having taunted John for months. It was purely business with only a slight hint of personal. Wade knew he was ready for the big time and saw the way he shone against a large number of his peers. Feuding with John was the ideal way to get catapulted up and over the so-called mid card mediocrity that a lot of his colleagues seemed destined to revel in. That was the reason he'd been whispering in all the right ears to get a second attempt at John. As he stared at the older man he wondered just how he made it through the day if a few idle comments in a promo played on his mind like they appeared to be doing. For a man that got booed out of the building on the five nights out of seven that he worked Wade had assumed that skin to be much thicker.
“Is it still real to you or something John? Come on, you're a big boy now. I haven't said half as much about you as some of them have done in the past. Just look at Orton, he even kicked your poor old dad in the head.”
“I've known Randy for years. He's my best friend. I can be sure that what he says is on the script or pretty damn close to it. You... you're the unknown to me Wade and I don't like it. We can work together on whatever but you gotta be straight with me.”
The snort that escaped with Wade's laughter wasn't intentional but seemed entirely fitting.
“Straight? First time you've said that one for a while John, eh?”
With a sly grin Wade watched as John squirmed in his seat, his uncomfortable movements a clear sign that the intended nerve had been located and twanged. He knew all about John's dirty little secret courtesy of Chris. A wife safely at home to provide the perfect cover story and sordid affairs kept to the guys on the road who were in the same position. Wade had nothing against the set up, in fact he thought it was the perfect balance of circumstances versus conveniences. So perfect that a part of it would suit him just fine both personally and professionally.
“Yeah, well. I gotta lot of people that believe in me Wade and I-”
“Don't give me that bullshit John. You like men, you make too much money as a poster boy for the all American apple pie way of life and you like it that way,” Pausing briefly Wade stood and pulled his t-shirt over his head, flexing his arms and chest as he dropped the bundle of fabric back onto the floor. “In fact, I'm willing to bet that this late night visit is more than a social one.”
The smirk that was fast becoming Wade's default expression stood John's neck hairs on end and sent a shiver sweeping across his skin. His eyesight was improved by the large frame that stood before him blocking the harsh ceiling light and John couldn't help but look over the toned and tanned torso, realising moments too late what he was doing and averting his gaze long after it had been noticed and noted.
“See something you like John? I knew you'd been looking but I didn't think you were looking quite that... hard.”
“Look, I just came to see if...”
“If what? If I'd had my warm milk and cookies before bed? If I'd had someone to keep me company that wasn't you? Cena, you run around out there shouting and showing off but you're all mouth. Or so I'm told.”
Wade intentionally kept pouring on the innuendo, enjoying the way John's cheeks had flushed a hot pink and the slight film of perspiration that had formed on the thick top lip.
“I can take a joke but, well, you're not as funny as you think Wade.”
“That's because I'm not trying to be.”
Taking a step closer Wade found himself stood between John's casually spread legs, staring directly down at the top of the shorn head. The shame and embarrassment of getting caught out had made the sparkling blue eyes fixate on something on the floor some metres away but he found himself determined to change that.
“Look at me John.”
No answer.
“John. I said look at me.”
When there was no response he reached down and put his fingers under John's chin, slowly levering the reluctant man's head upwards until their eyes met.
“We can come to an arrangement John. Orton might have decided he wants to play good husband and daddy these days and tucked it back in his trousers but I've got no ties and all the time in the world. If you're looking for someone to take over where he left off then, well, maybe you don't need to look any further.”
John felt the thick fingers slide up his face, ghosting over his cheekbone and then settling around the back of his head, the palm over his ear loudening the rush of blood that banged in his head already. His mind raced with just how much Wade could know about his deal with Randy and the way it had all come unravelled. Chris would be getting a phone call to warn him about running his mouth rather than just to establish if it was him that had said anything.
“That's not why I came here Wade and you know it.”
“Do I, John? You come here after midnight, nothing to report, nothing that you really needed to see me for. I sit taking the piss out of you as easy as shooting fish in a barrel and you're still here. I take my shirt off and you don't back off, don't run for the door. Not so much as a flinch, other than checking me out of course. If you want a fuck Cena, you only have to say.”
“That's not... I told you... you're not,” The words barely stumbled from John's lips as it dawned on him that he didn't have a good reason to be there. Against his better judgement, which had been hindered by four beers on an empty stomach, he'd gone to Wade's door and knocked on it, not sure what bullshit he'd have to spin to get some time alone with the younger man. Their friendship was fledgling at best and he thought he'd felt some kind of spark between them lately but there was nothing concrete. Finding himself being so brazenly propositioned by the bare chested man had come as a surprise, even to him. Finally regaining his composure John managed to get out a full sentence. “You know what I mean. I'm not here for that.”
“Course not John. Bet the thought never even crossed your mind.”
In the quiet of the room only rhythmic breathing could be heard and a moment passed in which a silent understanding seemed to be reached. No words were needed once deft fingers began working at Wade's belt and button flies. In under a minute the two sides of the denim were pulled apart and yanked down to his knees, his white boxers pulled mid way down his thighs leaving him totally exposed. A hand around each side of his hips pulled him closer and for a moment he just let himself go with it.
John had licked his lips in eager anticipation before being stopped from sinking his mouth
over and down the unsurprisingly impressive cock. Wade had the heel of his hand pressed against John's forehead holding him back. The release of the confined heat radiated far enough for it to reach John's skin and he swallowed hard, not knowing why he'd not been allowed to carry on.
“You want it Cena?”
Staring back down at the ground John accepted that he did, he just didn't want to vocalise the fact because that made it real, got it out in the open. He still had the scars of Randy's departure carved deep into his heart and hadn't dared to pursue anyone or anything since the break. Speaking meant admitting, admitting meant dealing with. John knew he wasn't good at either.
“Answer me. If you want this, all you have to do is say it. Say the word, John. Tell me you want me.”
The words weren't aggressive or threatening but they carried that cold tone that Wade knew would make it clear to John that he meant business. His suspicions of John's attraction to him had been confirmed physically one way and as he ran his wide palm over the short and stubbly hair it showed itself another way. The baby blue eyes disappeared behind closed eyelids and as Wade curled the fingers of his hand around the back of John's head he rocked his hips forward, barely allowing the reddened tip of his cock to brush the thick lips. Almost automatically the lips parted and Wade tightened his grip on the corded muscles of John's neck.
“Say it Cena. Just say it.”
“I want it.”
“Not quite there. Try again, eh?”
“I... I want you Wade.”
Seconds later and John's mouth was full, his eyes still closed as he worked his lips and tongue into a comfortable position. The air was starting to burn in his lungs and it reminded him to breathe, his outward breath closer to a sigh as it whistled softly down his nose. With a low moan he started to move his head back and forth, slicking up more of the soft skin as he went. In return for his careful technique he felt the first tiny burst of salty sweetness on his tongue, the tang catching his tastebuds and making him crave it all the more.
Fingers worked at the tension that had built at the back of his neck and, despite the exertion of keeping his breathing constant, John moved faster. All that flooded his senses was the need to impress the man stood before him, to provide an enticement for him to come back for more. With the way he could feel Wade twitching in his mouth and the prominent veins throbbing as they rubbed over his lips John knew he was doing something right.
“There's a good boy, John. You carry on like that and it won't take long for us both to get what we wanted.”
The words didn't come out as smoothly as they might, Wade's concentration waning as the sparkling lights appeared at the sides of his eyes. Feeling his stomach all but flip over he knew that it wouldn't be the last time John would make him feel that way. He knew all about the darker side of John that needed sating and he considered himself the right person to do it. He would enjoy throwing the older man on the bed and pounding him until they both lost it, hands pressed hard on the small of John's back as he went over the edge.
Without realising Wade had started to fuck John's mouth, his hips jerking in random patterns as the moment grew closer. He ran his free hand through his hair to loosen the few strands that had broken loose and were sticking to the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. The same hand was then planted down on John's shoulder, the slip of the throwback vest making it too hard for Wade to get a decent grip. After a deep growl that tailed off into a groan his knees began to fail him, He slid just far enough out of the warm mouth to see his cock twitch and John starting to swallow rapidly.
Once the waves of spasms had stopped he pulled out and felt the cold rush of air around his softening member. He took a few steps back and dropped down on the bed, not bothering to try and preserve what modesty he may have left. Wade watched as John wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, clumsily missing a spot that left a tell tale shimmer in the very corner of his bottom lip. In the harsh light of the room he could make out the lustful look that shadowed John's eyes and the tenting of the previously loose shorts that gave away the fact that there was little or nothing underneath them.
“You're bloody good at that John. I'll have to let you do that again.”
Watching the dishevelled man captivated John and he sat back in the chair, unable to contain his face splitting grin. He could almost feel the dimples sinking hard into his face and he paused to clear his throat to try and tame the giddy sensation he intended on keeping out of his voice.
“Thank you. I, erm, I'd better be going.”
The way his tone of voice rose towards the end made it clear that John was asking if he should go rather than stating that he was going to go. He hadn't wanted to ask outright, knowing that the answer he got might change everything or nothing. The worst that could happen to him would be being sent on his way and everyone finding out what a needy mess he'd turned into. He saw Wade kick his jeans off and pull his underwear back up but still hadn't got an answer by the time the younger man made his way over to the mini bar and grabbed two beers. Even then he didn't make the connection that one of the drinks might be for him, using the arms of the chair to push himself up onto shaky legs.
“Sit down John. I'm not done with you yet,” Wade passed one of the cans into a nervously extended hand and proceeded to open his, sending beer fizzing out onto his fingers. After wiping them casually on his t-shirt he sat down and patted the bed beside him, smiling in a way that could only ever be defined as slyly. “If you haven't got a better offer for tonight that is?”
As the second question in as many minutes hung unanswered in the air the tension was interrupted by the sound of a ring pull being snapped back. John had opened the can and took the few steps over to the end of the bed, sitting down exactly where Wade's hand had been. He tilted his can towards Wade, awaiting the dull thud of a toast. When it didn't happen he turned his head to see the younger man taking a long drink from his beer. With a shrug John put the can to his lips and did the same, silently toasting Randy and knowing that he may have finally started on the road to recovery.
~~x~~
A/N: Well I hope the requestee likes it =) All reads and reviews appreciated.
Pairing: John Cena/Wade Barrett
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not know of any of this to be true, I don’t know or own these people (but I'd secretly love to!).
Summary: M/M Slash, bad language, smut
Written for the Spring Prompt 2011 Challenge on ff.net
*
Idly Wade kicked off his shoes and used his toes to hook and pull off his socks, unable to relax until barefoot since he was in his teens. He flexed his toes and felt the cool air-conditioned rush around his warm extremities and it made him smile. No longer was he bunking up with the other rookies, his position as a winner, a leader and Vince's favourite had pulled in enough rewards to enable him to have his own room and a nice one at that.
Stretching out across the bed he crossed his legs at the ankles and locked his hands behind his head. A night's work well done, another promo that well surpassed the skills of the amateurs around him who depended on him. It was a far cry from his old life, kicking around the streets of his home town just waiting on the call to join a promotion that really mattered.
Flicking the flat screen television on he scrolled the channels until he found the news and watched for the international headlines, only half listening as the knock at the door came. For a moment or more he debated whether or not to answer it, the pleasure of his own company not something he found much time for as his career took off. After rolling his eyes he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and wearily rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Who is it?”
“It's me... Cena.”
“What do you want Cena?”
“C'mon, open up man. I don't wanna do this through a door.”
Knowing it went against his better judgement Wade clicked the flickering screen back off, pushed himself up off the bed and went over to the door, twisting the knob with the only scrap of enthusiasm he could muster. As it swung back John was stood there, leaning on the door frame with one arm and smiling widely, the baggy white throwback vest only excelled in a lack of style by the embarrassing green basketball shorts that accompanied them. Wade knew that anyone who kidded themselves that Cena's character was only a character lived in a delusional state. The cheesy grins and bad one-liners had driven him crazy at first but he soon learned to tune out or occasionally tune in. Either way, what you saw was most definitely what you got.
“Hey, you look real tired.”
“Thanks Sherlock. I wondered why my eyes kept shutting every time I laid down on the bloody bed. Glad you cleared that up for me.”
The look on John's face sat somewhere between confusion and hurt. Wade knew that his smart retorts would be lost on someone as plain talking as John. That was something he'd never had to worry about during his time in the company of Jericho. Real deep conversation, a connection on that level of knowledge that led to shared in-jokes and late night talks that put the world to rights. What got to him most was that the moment NXT was over, even though he'd won it and was getting over with the crowds as the Second Coming of the Second Coming, Chris basically shut down on him. The calls stopped getting returned and the texts went ignored. Their easy manner turned into frosty exchanges that had petered away into nothing before Chris took his sabbatical.
Chris had said it was for his own good; that Wade needed to toughen up, get out there on his own and learn the hard way how to get on in the business. They'd known by then about the future of the Nexus angle and that as the leader he was going to be the lynchpin of the entire storyline. Wade couldn't be sure that it was that level of exposure that was the problem but his unrequited smouldering for his mentor had remained just that and had been extinguished entirely by the way things had deteriorated between them. Since the débâcle with his work permit and numerous other backstage scuffles with his co-rookies he'd retreated into himself and been less sociable than before. Isn't it just my luck, he thought, that Captain America would notice and want to come and cheer me up?
“So, what's happening with you?”
The killer smile and boundless Bourne-esque energy levels made it hard to be harsh with John and Wade found himself stepping aside, his gesture the closest he could get to a formal invitation for the interloper in his doorway to come in.
“John, its night time. Normal people go to bed, get some rest and wait for the next flight to the next show. That's my life at the moment and I imagine yours to be pretty much the same. Probably has been for long enough. However, you're sat on my bed rather than snoring in your own.”
“I don't snore!”
“Think again Mr Perfect. You sound like a pig with a blocked snout.”
John did little more than shrug the comment away, not taking it as the barb it might have been. He got back up off the bed where he'd perched and sat on the badly upholstered chair near the window instead, making sure not to lean on and pull down the haphazardly drawn drapes that were keeping the bright parking lot lights at bay. Wade perched on the edge of the bed, resisting the urging of his bare toes to curl into the unknown that was the pile of a hotel carpet.
“You were pretty believable out there tonight, sounded as if you meant some of it....”
The raised eyebrow didn't escape Wade's attention. He knew he'd gone further than the script and that the only reason he'd not had his hands slapped backstage was because he was doing just what creative wanted. Their overall plan of returning him to Raw and really running Cena into the ground until he was too broken to argue was in it's infancy but the more fuel Wade poured on the fire, the better they thought it made the storyline. The fake firing had seemed like the icing on the cake until now. This time he had a little more star power and was planning on cementing his place in the main event with John's help.
He didn't feel bad about having taunted John for months. It was purely business with only a slight hint of personal. Wade knew he was ready for the big time and saw the way he shone against a large number of his peers. Feuding with John was the ideal way to get catapulted up and over the so-called mid card mediocrity that a lot of his colleagues seemed destined to revel in. That was the reason he'd been whispering in all the right ears to get a second attempt at John. As he stared at the older man he wondered just how he made it through the day if a few idle comments in a promo played on his mind like they appeared to be doing. For a man that got booed out of the building on the five nights out of seven that he worked Wade had assumed that skin to be much thicker.
“Is it still real to you or something John? Come on, you're a big boy now. I haven't said half as much about you as some of them have done in the past. Just look at Orton, he even kicked your poor old dad in the head.”
“I've known Randy for years. He's my best friend. I can be sure that what he says is on the script or pretty damn close to it. You... you're the unknown to me Wade and I don't like it. We can work together on whatever but you gotta be straight with me.”
The snort that escaped with Wade's laughter wasn't intentional but seemed entirely fitting.
“Straight? First time you've said that one for a while John, eh?”
With a sly grin Wade watched as John squirmed in his seat, his uncomfortable movements a clear sign that the intended nerve had been located and twanged. He knew all about John's dirty little secret courtesy of Chris. A wife safely at home to provide the perfect cover story and sordid affairs kept to the guys on the road who were in the same position. Wade had nothing against the set up, in fact he thought it was the perfect balance of circumstances versus conveniences. So perfect that a part of it would suit him just fine both personally and professionally.
“Yeah, well. I gotta lot of people that believe in me Wade and I-”
“Don't give me that bullshit John. You like men, you make too much money as a poster boy for the all American apple pie way of life and you like it that way,” Pausing briefly Wade stood and pulled his t-shirt over his head, flexing his arms and chest as he dropped the bundle of fabric back onto the floor. “In fact, I'm willing to bet that this late night visit is more than a social one.”
The smirk that was fast becoming Wade's default expression stood John's neck hairs on end and sent a shiver sweeping across his skin. His eyesight was improved by the large frame that stood before him blocking the harsh ceiling light and John couldn't help but look over the toned and tanned torso, realising moments too late what he was doing and averting his gaze long after it had been noticed and noted.
“See something you like John? I knew you'd been looking but I didn't think you were looking quite that... hard.”
“Look, I just came to see if...”
“If what? If I'd had my warm milk and cookies before bed? If I'd had someone to keep me company that wasn't you? Cena, you run around out there shouting and showing off but you're all mouth. Or so I'm told.”
Wade intentionally kept pouring on the innuendo, enjoying the way John's cheeks had flushed a hot pink and the slight film of perspiration that had formed on the thick top lip.
“I can take a joke but, well, you're not as funny as you think Wade.”
“That's because I'm not trying to be.”
Taking a step closer Wade found himself stood between John's casually spread legs, staring directly down at the top of the shorn head. The shame and embarrassment of getting caught out had made the sparkling blue eyes fixate on something on the floor some metres away but he found himself determined to change that.
“Look at me John.”
No answer.
“John. I said look at me.”
When there was no response he reached down and put his fingers under John's chin, slowly levering the reluctant man's head upwards until their eyes met.
“We can come to an arrangement John. Orton might have decided he wants to play good husband and daddy these days and tucked it back in his trousers but I've got no ties and all the time in the world. If you're looking for someone to take over where he left off then, well, maybe you don't need to look any further.”
John felt the thick fingers slide up his face, ghosting over his cheekbone and then settling around the back of his head, the palm over his ear loudening the rush of blood that banged in his head already. His mind raced with just how much Wade could know about his deal with Randy and the way it had all come unravelled. Chris would be getting a phone call to warn him about running his mouth rather than just to establish if it was him that had said anything.
“That's not why I came here Wade and you know it.”
“Do I, John? You come here after midnight, nothing to report, nothing that you really needed to see me for. I sit taking the piss out of you as easy as shooting fish in a barrel and you're still here. I take my shirt off and you don't back off, don't run for the door. Not so much as a flinch, other than checking me out of course. If you want a fuck Cena, you only have to say.”
“That's not... I told you... you're not,” The words barely stumbled from John's lips as it dawned on him that he didn't have a good reason to be there. Against his better judgement, which had been hindered by four beers on an empty stomach, he'd gone to Wade's door and knocked on it, not sure what bullshit he'd have to spin to get some time alone with the younger man. Their friendship was fledgling at best and he thought he'd felt some kind of spark between them lately but there was nothing concrete. Finding himself being so brazenly propositioned by the bare chested man had come as a surprise, even to him. Finally regaining his composure John managed to get out a full sentence. “You know what I mean. I'm not here for that.”
“Course not John. Bet the thought never even crossed your mind.”
In the quiet of the room only rhythmic breathing could be heard and a moment passed in which a silent understanding seemed to be reached. No words were needed once deft fingers began working at Wade's belt and button flies. In under a minute the two sides of the denim were pulled apart and yanked down to his knees, his white boxers pulled mid way down his thighs leaving him totally exposed. A hand around each side of his hips pulled him closer and for a moment he just let himself go with it.
John had licked his lips in eager anticipation before being stopped from sinking his mouth
over and down the unsurprisingly impressive cock. Wade had the heel of his hand pressed against John's forehead holding him back. The release of the confined heat radiated far enough for it to reach John's skin and he swallowed hard, not knowing why he'd not been allowed to carry on.
“You want it Cena?”
Staring back down at the ground John accepted that he did, he just didn't want to vocalise the fact because that made it real, got it out in the open. He still had the scars of Randy's departure carved deep into his heart and hadn't dared to pursue anyone or anything since the break. Speaking meant admitting, admitting meant dealing with. John knew he wasn't good at either.
“Answer me. If you want this, all you have to do is say it. Say the word, John. Tell me you want me.”
The words weren't aggressive or threatening but they carried that cold tone that Wade knew would make it clear to John that he meant business. His suspicions of John's attraction to him had been confirmed physically one way and as he ran his wide palm over the short and stubbly hair it showed itself another way. The baby blue eyes disappeared behind closed eyelids and as Wade curled the fingers of his hand around the back of John's head he rocked his hips forward, barely allowing the reddened tip of his cock to brush the thick lips. Almost automatically the lips parted and Wade tightened his grip on the corded muscles of John's neck.
“Say it Cena. Just say it.”
“I want it.”
“Not quite there. Try again, eh?”
“I... I want you Wade.”
Seconds later and John's mouth was full, his eyes still closed as he worked his lips and tongue into a comfortable position. The air was starting to burn in his lungs and it reminded him to breathe, his outward breath closer to a sigh as it whistled softly down his nose. With a low moan he started to move his head back and forth, slicking up more of the soft skin as he went. In return for his careful technique he felt the first tiny burst of salty sweetness on his tongue, the tang catching his tastebuds and making him crave it all the more.
Fingers worked at the tension that had built at the back of his neck and, despite the exertion of keeping his breathing constant, John moved faster. All that flooded his senses was the need to impress the man stood before him, to provide an enticement for him to come back for more. With the way he could feel Wade twitching in his mouth and the prominent veins throbbing as they rubbed over his lips John knew he was doing something right.
“There's a good boy, John. You carry on like that and it won't take long for us both to get what we wanted.”
The words didn't come out as smoothly as they might, Wade's concentration waning as the sparkling lights appeared at the sides of his eyes. Feeling his stomach all but flip over he knew that it wouldn't be the last time John would make him feel that way. He knew all about the darker side of John that needed sating and he considered himself the right person to do it. He would enjoy throwing the older man on the bed and pounding him until they both lost it, hands pressed hard on the small of John's back as he went over the edge.
Without realising Wade had started to fuck John's mouth, his hips jerking in random patterns as the moment grew closer. He ran his free hand through his hair to loosen the few strands that had broken loose and were sticking to the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. The same hand was then planted down on John's shoulder, the slip of the throwback vest making it too hard for Wade to get a decent grip. After a deep growl that tailed off into a groan his knees began to fail him, He slid just far enough out of the warm mouth to see his cock twitch and John starting to swallow rapidly.
Once the waves of spasms had stopped he pulled out and felt the cold rush of air around his softening member. He took a few steps back and dropped down on the bed, not bothering to try and preserve what modesty he may have left. Wade watched as John wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, clumsily missing a spot that left a tell tale shimmer in the very corner of his bottom lip. In the harsh light of the room he could make out the lustful look that shadowed John's eyes and the tenting of the previously loose shorts that gave away the fact that there was little or nothing underneath them.
“You're bloody good at that John. I'll have to let you do that again.”
Watching the dishevelled man captivated John and he sat back in the chair, unable to contain his face splitting grin. He could almost feel the dimples sinking hard into his face and he paused to clear his throat to try and tame the giddy sensation he intended on keeping out of his voice.
“Thank you. I, erm, I'd better be going.”
The way his tone of voice rose towards the end made it clear that John was asking if he should go rather than stating that he was going to go. He hadn't wanted to ask outright, knowing that the answer he got might change everything or nothing. The worst that could happen to him would be being sent on his way and everyone finding out what a needy mess he'd turned into. He saw Wade kick his jeans off and pull his underwear back up but still hadn't got an answer by the time the younger man made his way over to the mini bar and grabbed two beers. Even then he didn't make the connection that one of the drinks might be for him, using the arms of the chair to push himself up onto shaky legs.
“Sit down John. I'm not done with you yet,” Wade passed one of the cans into a nervously extended hand and proceeded to open his, sending beer fizzing out onto his fingers. After wiping them casually on his t-shirt he sat down and patted the bed beside him, smiling in a way that could only ever be defined as slyly. “If you haven't got a better offer for tonight that is?”
As the second question in as many minutes hung unanswered in the air the tension was interrupted by the sound of a ring pull being snapped back. John had opened the can and took the few steps over to the end of the bed, sitting down exactly where Wade's hand had been. He tilted his can towards Wade, awaiting the dull thud of a toast. When it didn't happen he turned his head to see the younger man taking a long drink from his beer. With a shrug John put the can to his lips and did the same, silently toasting Randy and knowing that he may have finally started on the road to recovery.
A/N: Well I hope the requestee likes it =) All reads and reviews appreciated.
