Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers apply.
Title: In The Wake Of
Pairing: Centon
Rating: hard R.
Part: 2 of 2. Read part 1 here.
Summary: Randy Orton makes good on his word, but gets a return that's a little more than he bargained for in John.
Sequel To: In The Offing (PG)
Spoilers: December 15, 2008 RAW televised promo and main event.
Dedicated to: miraclepaint, rory_tutorgirl, mrsitchweeed, eric_idle_rules archangel_92, and all the loyal members of cenaortonmylove, especially those who have been there from the start, because I love you guys; To all other Centon fans out there who are dying to see more Centon action in 2009.
Author's Notes: I’m really sorry this came as late as it did! I never got around to working on it, and it’s the first time I’ve had the computer for an entire day since I put up part 1 to the fic. But here it is, your smut to close out 2008. More stuff to come from in 2009, I promise! Happy New Year, Centon-ites! (Sorry, I think that’s cute…)
PS - If you haven't yet, add my fic journal, marcianafics, to your FList!
X-posted to: cenaortonmylove and marcianafics


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In The Wake Of
a Centon fic
by MARCIANA (lady_tavington)
Rated Hard R.

~ PART 2 ~


"Just because you can be trusted to not go into your friends' rooms through the door in the wall doesn't mean everybody else can be too."

Randy's voice is low and silky, his tone cynical.

"...Randy..."

Randy smirks with a snort. "That all you can say for yourself, Cena?" he asks, "My name?"

"...I didn't know you were the guy next door."

"And if you did," Randy asks, "Would it still be open? Or would you have locked it?"

John has no answer, and Randy knows it. Randy enjoys it.

"Whatcha got there?" Randy asks, with a jerk of his head in John's general direction.

John passes a hand in front of his face and sighs heavily. "Never mind," he grunts, "None of your business."

He turns in the direction of the bathroom.

"You've been waiting."

Again, John freezes at the sound and the tone of Randy's voice. It sends a shiver down his spine, the blood rushing down to his nether regions. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.

"What?" he asks, as if he hadn't heard clearly.

"You've been waiting," Randy repeats, "For me."

The footsteps are soft on the carpet, but John can hear every single one of them as Randy approaches him.

"Maybe," is all John can manage to say, "So what if I have?"

"I knew you missed me," Randy answers, the smirk on his face bordering on plain evil.

"You're crazy," John replies.

"Am I?" Randy answers, their faces just inches apart now. His breath falls on John's skin, and he can feel it lingering there, making his skin tingle.

"You didn't miss me," John answers, "Obviously, you didn't. You got Cody around--"

"He's a kid," Randy is quick to say, "He's nothing to me."

"Right," John shoots back, "Next you're gonna say you've never fucked him."

"Well, I haven't," Randy answers, "And I wasn't intending to."

A weight seems to lift off John's chest at that, but he refuses to let Randy know.

"Jealous, were you?" Randy continues, that smirk growing even more smug, if possible.

"No," John answers firmly.

"Liar," Randy answers.

"Fuck you," John says through gritted teeth.

All of a sudden Randy grabs John's semi-hard cock hard through his jeans, making him hiss.

"I told you, didn't I?" Randy breathes in John's ear, giving him a rather generous squeeze, "I told you I was coming for you. And by the feel of things..." He gives John another squeeze, making him positively groan low in his throat, "You've been wanting me to."

"...Stop..." John whispers weakly.

"Make me," Randy challenges, and when John does and says nothing, he presses his lips roughly to John's, not waiting, nor seeming to care, for a response.

But John does respond, whether or not he means to, he kisses Randy back, and doesn't protest when Randy shoves his tongue in John's mouth, and all of a sudden, everything is alright, everything is okay. Everything is as it should be, because it feels right, and normal, and…familiar.

When the kiss deepens, John sighs, eliciting a more physical response from Randy. Randy pulls away, and the only thing John can manage is, “…Randy…”

“You keep saying my name like that, you’re going to wear it out,” Randy grunts as he lets go of John’s erection to work on John’s belt and pants instead.

“Is that a challenge?” John asks breathlessly, his hips being jerked forward as Randy releases the belt buckle.

“Do you want it to be?” asks Randy in response as the belt falls to the floor, John’s pants coming down just a little further around his hips.

“Why do you keep asking questions?” John chuckles even as he feels his insides give a little leap at the sight of Randy on his knees in front of him, working on the button and fly of his pants.

“…Because it’s how we talk, you and me,” Randy replies thoughtfully, the ghost of a smile visible in the corner of his mouth, “It’s just…it’s just how we are. The two of us. It feels right to keep asking you questions.”

It feels right.

There’s that phrase again. It feels right.

Then again, is there really any other way to describe how it feels? How it has always felt?

The heat and velvet of Randy’s hand around his cock brings John back to reality. When did Randy shuck his pants and boxers off? John is slightly surprised to find himself naked without knowing how and when it happened.

“Back yet?” asks Randy from the floor, giving John a slow stroke from base to head, “Thought I lost you there for a minute.”

As Randy gives him another tug, John gives a singular throaty laugh. “I was just thinking,” he explains, “That’s all.”

“John Cena thinking,” Randy says contemplatively, “That’s a dangerous thing in and of itself. Makes me wonder what you were thinking about to make you disappear like that when you did.”

John opens his mouth to say something scathing or silly in reply, but instead he moans when Randy takes him into his mouth as far as he could without gagging, and then releases him at a tantalizingly slow pace, his tongue working miracles on his shaft. Randy does it again, and the sudden change between the heat of Randy’s mouth and the cold air of the room makes John just slightly weak at the knees. John’s head falls backward against the wall, and an undignified whimper escapes his throat when Randy does it a third time, sucking a bit harder on the release.

Randy, on the other hand, is silent. He works on John like a Renaissance sculptor working on the last few details of a precious marble masterpiece. He is slow and precise, choosing his spots and picking his movements with deliberation. He doesn’t look up, not once, his attention entirely on what he’s doing, on how and what it’s all making John feel and do, on the hand in his hair, silently and softly begging him for more. He feels his own erection jerking against his pants, but he chooses to ignore it for the time-being, to deny himself the pleasure he knows will feel better when it comes from John. And so he kisses and sucks and licks at John in a way and at a pace that he knows softens him at the joints. But when he senses that John is about to come, he lets him go with a tiny pop, panting as if he’d run a 10 mile race.

When Randy finally looks up at John, he finds his skin flushed, his chest heaving for breath, sweat dotting his forehead and brows, his lips dry, his mouth slightly open. It is an inviting image, and Randy accepts with no hesitation. He gets up and kisses John, who responds as if it was his idea to start kissing again. The heat radiating of John’s body seeps through Randy’s clothes, the scent of his desire lingering in the air around them, and it feels right. It just feels right.

“Why’d you stop, fucker?” John asks when Randy pulls away to attach his lips to his throat.

“Couldn’t let it end there,” Randy mumbles against John’s skin, “Didn’t want it to.”

He becomes acutely aware of John raking at his shirt, trying to pull it off. He pulls back, relinquishing his hold on John to start walking to the bed, stripping his clothes off as he goes. By the time he reaches the bed, he too is completely naked, his own cock exposed and twitching in the coolness of the room. And then someone pushes him forward, and he falls onto the bed. He flips over just in time to see John standing over him, an almost predatory glint in those steely blue eyes of his. Before Randy can say anything, John is hovering over him, lips pressed to his, tongue invading his mouth. Randy grabs on to him to keep his balance, but loses it instead as John moves forward, pressing his body closer into Randy’s body. When John finally pulls away, stars and colors explode in front of Randy’s eyes. When the fuck did he learn to kiss that well?

“Gonna fuck you, Randy,” John grunts, reaching down between them, “Gonna make you come hard.”

Again, whatever response Randy had dies in his throat as John covers his mouth with his own. John’s hand snakes down between them, and Randy gasps against John’s lips when John gives him a good tug and a squeeze. But the touch doesn’t linger, and neither does the kiss, this time. John pulls back, only to suddenly fall to his knees and take Randy’s quivering cock into his mouth. He sucks mercilessly hard, giving Randy hardly any time to breathe. Randy props himself up on his elbows to watch, but when John inserts a finger into him, his entire body trembles, and his groan gets caught in his throat.
John is no longer speaking either. He is more aggressive now, moving and sucking fast and hard, as if his very life depends on it. It is almost all Randy can take…the fingers curling inside him, the tongue and lips tasting every inch of skin and dick that they can, the heat, the tightness…It’s a tad more than Randy had initially bargained for.

Randy hears John grunt, feels it on his shaft, and finds himself mimicking the sound. Randy dares another glance, and realizes that it’s almost a mistake as John chooses that exact moment to look up at Randy. Their eyes lock, and Randy almost comes at the smirk on John’s lips, and the hunger in his eyes.

“Move up,” John commands, a little short of breath. Randy obeys without hesitation, leaning back on the headboard of the bed as John follows him. Their lips meet again, and Randy can taste himself in his mouth, can smell their combined musk in the air.

John pulls back, and looks Randy dead in the eye. “Missed you, fucker,” he says simply, then without warning or ceremony, he pushes roughly into Randy. Randy’s lips part as he lets out a throaty moan, while John plants a hand on the wall beside Randy’s head to steady himself. For seconds on end, neither of them moves, neither of them speaks. They soak in the moment, taking in every drop of warmth coming off of each other. How long has it really been? How have they not done this sooner?

John’s other hand pulls Randy’s thigh around him, and then the other. Randy’s hip jerks slightly, eliciting a stifled moan from John. Through gritted teeth, John tells Randy not to move, but Randy doesn’t listen this time. He rolls his hips forward, pushing himself further onto John. This time, John almost fails completely to stay silent, choosing to grunt low in his throat instead, his hand slipping a little down the wall. Randy reaches up and kisses John’s throat, sucking at the pressure point just behind John’s ear.

“Told you to not fucking move,” John groans, even as his eyes flutter close at the sensation.

“One of us has to,” Randy pants, thrusting upward against John again.

With almost Herculean effort, John pulls away from Randy’s lips, and clasps his hips with one hand. He pulls completely out, and then re-enters him hard and fast, making Randy gasp and call out his name, grasping at the arm John has against the wall.

“Fine then,” John says, almost more to himself than to Randy, “Fine.”

He begins to move, quick and rough, eyes downcast and watching his progress as Randy’s body jerks underneath him. He doesn’t look up even when Randy puts his hands on John’s hips and begs for him to go faster, a request John obliges only too willingly. He bends his head low and licks at Randy’s jaw, and then at his neck as his free hand wraps around Randy’s erection once more and mimics the movement of his hips, matching the pace perfectly. He holds Randy tight, as tight as he feels around him, maybe tighter, and Randy’s vocabulary has all but disappeared.

And then John looks up, and almost immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Randy’s head is thrown back, lips half-parted, eyes shut, nose scrunching up slightly from time to time. His skin is flushed and sweating, and his hands rake down John’s back as if fighting to keep some sort of control over the situation. At the sight, John almost comes, so he turns away, but Randy’s fingers dig into his skin, leaving marks that feel like fire.
“What do you want from me, Randy?” he asks, breathing heavily with the effort to keep going, “You want this? You want me like this? Is this what you want, Randy, is this what you fucking want?”

“…Come…” Randy manages to answer, “Want you to make me come, John…Fuck, John…”

“You always do,” John mumbles in reply, switching his angle a bit and thrusting harder and harder, going deeper and deeper into Randy.

“Oh, shit,” Randy heaves out, still clawing at John’s back, and now at his hair, pulling him down towards him again. When John’s lips touch his skin again, he can swear he hears a sizzle.

Unlike every other motion of John’s, his lips move gently across Randy’s skin. Every now and then, his tongue darts out and tastes the salt of Randy’s sweat, and as Randy nears his finish, John sucks at the side of his neck, and then at the spot where it meets with his shoulder.

“Gonna come, John,” Randy warns, as if John can’t feel it, “Gonna come fucking hard…”

John gives him a few sharp thrusts, and on the last one John bites down on Randy’s shoulder hard enough to leave a few marks. Randy cries out John’s name, and the rest is muffled against John’s skin as John licks at the spot he bit as if to calm it. It’s a while before Randy falls back, breathing heavily again, still sweating, still flushed.

“Come on, John,” he urges, reaching up with a hand to hold him on the back of his neck, “Give me…give me everything you got, come on…”

John moans low in his throat at the quiet temptation in Randy’s tone. Randy kisses his jaw, and moves towards his lips. He licks John’s lips first, just tiny little flicks, just enough to tempt him. It’s enough to get John going. His breathing and his thrusts become ragged and erratic, punctuated with little gasps and groans as he inches closer to the edge, the fire in his belly growing hotter and hotter with every thrust.

“Come on, John,” Randy breathes on John’s mouth, “I want it. I want you. Come on, John…”

It is the sound of his name coming from Randy that gives him the final push. As John finds release, Randy kisses him again, as if he can’t get enough, effectively muffling the sounds John is making low in his throat and in his belly.

As his body and his senses calm down, John sighs into the kiss, and then everything is alright, everything is okay. Everything is as it should be. Right, normal and familiar.

“See?” he manages to say after a while, now laying beside Randy, the both of them staring up at the ceiling, “I told you.”

Beside him, Randy chuckles softly. “You told me,” he echoes.

“…What now?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Now.”

“…I don’t know. I…I really don’t know.”

Silence, for seconds on end. And then –

“Neither do I.”


~ END PART 2. ~
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A/N: Thank you to EVERYONE who followed this fic, and I’m sorry it took so long! Happy New Year, everyone! See you in 2009!



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