Sacrifice

Randy Orton has anger issues. Major ones, at that. Ask anyone. They could tell you.

It had gotten him into trouble a few times. One time, he beat up a fan for dissing him. Another, he beat up a colleague for making fun of him. The most recent time, he beat up a girl because she had slapped him.

Needless to say, Randy Orton has spent many days in jail. He's been in many courts and met many judges. And he always had his best friend there to help him out, no matter what.

And his best friend? John Cena. Someone who spoke nothing but the truth to Randy. Someone who had yelled at him, hit him, done numerous things that make him angry. But he never hit John. John was the one constant in his life. If he were to hit John, he would know he's hit the deep end. Probably. Maybe. Most likely not.

But anyway. Randy was currently at the hotel with John after just getting out of court. He was found not guilty due to a hung jury. They were attempting to cancel their rooms so they could room together, seeing as John didn't trust Randy to be alone anymore. Randy barely gave a glance to Mike as he talked to the other person behind the desk about whatever the hell was wrong with the room.

Mike's life was hell. Why? His supposed lover, Randy Orton. The man had left his mark on Mike. Scars, bruises and burns.

He was afraid of Randy. He had loved Randy... unit the man showed his true colors. It started with a shove. Shoving turned to to slapping. Slapping turned to punching. Punching became kicking an everything came down to rough, painful, unenjoyable sex.

Mike wished he could leave. But he was far to afraid. He barely slept. He rarely ate. His ass was always sore after sex. His life was just... shit. Thoughts of just... off with himself, to just permanently end the pain ran through his head many times. But he didn't have the guts to dance with russian roulette.

He stayed quiet, knowing not to bother Randy as he tried to change the rooms. he didn't want room with Randy in the first place, and being alone with him was so much worse.

"I'm sorry Mr. Orton and Mr. Cena. We can't do that. You will be leaving tomorrow and I can't have a free room get booked for a week when it's already been booked for after you leave," the man behind the desk said.

John sighed. "No, no, it's fine," he said and looked at Randy, who's face was blank, as usual. "Let's go, Rand," he said and led Randy away from the counter.

Randy could care less where he roomed. He knew rooming with John was safest, but he liked being able to beat on Mike when he did something wrong. And he knew the sucker was too chicken to tell anyone. He smirked as he looked at Mike. Looks like we're still roomies, babe, he thought.

Mike just looked down at his shoes, avoiding Randy's icy gaze. He bit his lip as he walked with Randy back to his room. He didn't have the guts to tell anyone. He didn't wanna know hat Randy would do to him if he told. He sighed, starving.

"R-Randy... I'l uh, be back in a bit. I'm just hungry." He said timidly and made his way away from Randy, wanting to be away front eh man anyway.

Randy growled. "Michael Gregory Mizanin, get your ass back here right now," he said lowly, glaring after Mike.

Mike winced, expecting this. He looked down and went back over to Randy. "Y-Yes Randy?" He whispered, still looking down at the ground.

"Go pack our things. Now. And if you forget anything, or our stuff ends up in each other's bags, you'll regret it," Randy said, opening the door to the room, waiting for Mike to enter.

Mike simply nodded and hurriedly went in the room and started to pack their things. he was fucking starving. But the quicker he packed (without messing up), the quicker he could grab a bite to eat. He focused on making sure their stuff was separate and got in tot he right bags before turning to Randy. "Can I go eat now?" He asked quietly, wanting to groan and whine the question but refraining.

"No. Strip and get on the bed," Randy demanded, stripping himself down.

Mike whimpered quietly and stripped down. When he was naked he climbed on the bed, laying on his bed. He was so not in the mood for this.

Randy climbed onto the bed and in-between Mike's legs with a smirk, his member already hard. He positioned himself at Mike's entrance and slowly pushed in, moaning at the tight heat.

Mike hissed, pain shooting through his body from not being prepped. "Randy..." He whimpered, biting his lip. He wasn't in the mood, and it hurt without lube. "It hurts..." He groaned, clenching the sheets.

"You like it, you little slut," Randy growled lowly, setting a slow pace.

Mike groaned. His cock twitched to life but he felt nothing emotionally or mentally. He never did. Whenever he came, he didn't have that glow he did before he met Randy. He reached down and started to touch himself, hoping to at least make it good for himself.

Randy growled and slapped Mike's hand away. There was no way he was going let Mike cum before he was ready to let him. "You can pleasure yourself when I tell you," he said lowly, picking up his pace a bit.

Mike groaned when Randy went fast. He bit his lip as the pain intensified. He looked away and closed his eyes, wishing it was just over already.

When Randy was getting close to his climax, he reached down and began to stroke Mike in time with his thrusts, angling his thrusts so he hit Mike's hot spot with each thrust.

Mike moaned, his eyes clenched shut as his climax rose. It hurt, Randy's strokes hurt, but he orgasmed nonetheless. He came all over his stomach both a breathy whimper, his hips spasming and bucking up as he released.

Randy groaned, Mike's spasming body sending him over the edge, pleasure overwhelming his body as he came hard and deep into Mike. When he had milked all he had, he pulled out and collapsed next to Mike, panting.

Mike groaned a little, his ass in pain. He looked at the time. It was late, and he was exhausted. He turned on his side, drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Randy sighed softly as his breath caught up with him and he fell asleep as well.

Mike accidentally slept in through the morning, when he was supposed to be up and gathering their stuff together for the show. But Mike was so tired and in pain from last night... he couldn't help but stay asleep.

When Randy woke up, Mike was still asleep. He sat up and growled as he looked at him, slapping him across the face.

Mike jumped and cradled his face. "Shit..." He hissed, tears springing to his eyes. Though he knew he should have been up now. He rube this cheek nd scrambled out of bed, getting dressed and gathering their stuff together, not wanting Randy to flip out on him again.

Randy sighed and relaxed against the bed, a soft smile on his face. He loved how he could control Mike. It made him feel powerful. And that power was intoxicating.