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redfiona99Other than that, here be fic.
Title: Ritual Suite - Part 2
Author: Red Fiona
Fandom: Wrestling
Characters: Randy Orton and Dave Batista
Prompt:5 - Oil
Word Count: 1,311
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they themselves and WWE do. No money being made.
Author's Notes: This is the second in a series of 3 linked fics for the challenge, along with the fics for prompt 5 - oil and prompt 1 - rituals. For those who don't watch wrestling, this is Randy Orton and this is Dave Batista
It was mayhem before a show, at least one person was late, someone had lost some of their kit and then Melina tore her dress and so someone had to go and buy her a new one and argh! There was just too much to do with too many people trying to do three things at once. Randy was finding it really hard to get himself psyched up. 'Cause you needed to be, otherwise it just wasn't believable. You had to be in the zone to give a good performance in the ring. He did his best to get there but it was difficult.
He wasn't concentrating on what's going on so he was a bit confused when he heard the door shut and a sound that could only have been the door being locked. Once he'd heard it though, he didn't have to look up to know who it was and what was going to happen. It depended on where they were what happened, 'cause obviously, if there weren't massive number of rooms everyone got changed together so Dave couldn't be all over him. Some of the older guys, the ones that hadn't had quite the leg up he had had, told stories about school gyms and having to get changed in places where their heads nearly hit the ceiling, and the girls had to change in the toilets. Luckily it was a lot better for him, and at worst, he and Dave had to behave themselves because there was only the one male locker room. Sometimes, if they got lucky, though, and there were enough rooms, people spread out. Sure, head office preferred it if they didn't but come on, the fun that Randy had had in separate locker rooms.
The part of the preparation process that he always saved till last was oiling himself up. It wasn't just that waiting meant, if they were in wonderful separate locker rooms, that Dave would come "help" him with it, but also because, and no-one had ever been able to dispute the logic of this, it was horrible goop that had to do terrible things to your skin and he wanted to spend as little time as possibly in it.
"'Thought I might come give you a hand."
"You know your help is always welcome."
Randy took the oil out of his black kit bag and, having squeezed some of it out on to his palm, gave it to Dave. He did the same and put it down on the bench. Dave rubbed Randy's back with oil and then turned round to let Randy do the same to him. Then they faced each other and started to cover each other's fronts.
It was always a thrill to have Dave's hands on him at any time, even if his hands weren't touching him intimately. And even if every time Dave did this he seemed to take an almost perverse interest in ensuring that every inch of Randy's arm would be well oiled. Randy, on the other hand, was just pleased to be able to touch any part of Dave because the guy's body was a work of art. Randy was used to seeing seriously buff guys, he was one himself, but Dave's muscles were something else. With a lot of guys in the back they lumbered about, like there was a scrawny little man inside pulling the outside around like a puppet on strings, but with Dave, it wasn't like that. He was muscled, fantastically so, but supple with it. Those were obviously his and the years of work he'd put into them. Dave once told him that he'd been a skinny teenage, all height and nothing else, and, despite the photos, Randy still couldn't bring himself to believe it.
And he was the one that got to do this to Dave, run his fingers all over his chest, into all the little spaces that lay between his muscles and onto those muscles themselves. And he knew how to do it just right; judging by the way Dave all but picked him up and pushed him into the wall next to the showers. Dave was all over him, a strong pressure against every part of Randy. Dave had his hands all over Randy's torso and then his left hand came to rest somewhere round Randy's hipbone while his right held Randy's head as he bit gently into Randy's right earlobe. Randy arched into the touch at his hip, drawing his sensitised earlobe over Dave's teeth. He want more of a touch and tried to press their bodies closer together, tried to get Dave's hand, either of them, to move down further, to press hard on his growing erection, to bring some friction to bear, just to take the edge off because Randy knew that Dave would make certain that he wouldn't come. He wanted to, as Dave mercilessly revved his motor, even though he realised what would happen next. It was the same thing that happened every time, Dave pushed him and pushed him closer to the edge, and then,
"Orton! Where are you?"
"Here."
"Get your ass into forward gear and get to the stage. Now!"
Dave got off him giving him the most smug, self-satisfied smile. Because Dave knew exactly how hot he'd got Randy. And that Randy couldn't do anything about it.
As he walked towards the entrance, moving to where he'd wait for his cue to go on, he cursed Dave and the cursed himself for always falling for this. One of these days he’d have to start saying ‘no, no messing about before matches’. Except he enjoyed this, the sneaking around, and the fact that no matter how well Dave hid it, Randy now knew that he drove Dave just as crazy.
In many ways the way Dave could control his, well everything, was one of the things that Randy found most attractive. He didn't lose his temper half as much as everyone else did, and he did everything careful. And it wasn't control-freakery the way Hunter’s control of things was, with Hunter having to have everything just right, with Dave it was a calm, Zen type thing.
But Randy knew he could break through it. One time, just after they'd both been moved to Smackdown, one of their cues was late, a segment over-ran or something, and they'd gotten a more than a little carried away, Dave holding Randy pressed against the wall and a foot off the ground, with Randy's legs wrapped around his waist, and rocking his hips against Dave to get a touch, some pressure on his groin. Randy was a hairsbreadth from coming, no matter what the consequences might be.
That was of course when one of the runners yelled for Dave to get ready because he was due on. Life sucked like that.
Dave peeled himself off of Randy, as reluctantly as he could manage while he did it quickly, and kissed him. Randy had to steady himself against a wall as Dave left, because every bit of blood not already down there moved to his dick during that kiss.
That was the time that convinced him that Dave was just as hot for him as he was for Dave, because you just couldn't kiss like that and not be.
Right now though, none of that mattered as the blood started to thrum round him again, moving to his ears and muscles, heating him up everywhere. Except that it didn't go from his crotch, as per usual, which got a bit embarrassing, on occasion. Luckily this time he was facing Rene, who normally had the same problem, so neither of them were going make jokes about it like lots of other people would, plus once the adrenaline really hit, about five seconds into his music, it wasn't a problem, nothing except the match was.
50 Kinky Ways Table
Title: Ritual Suite - Part 2
Author: Red Fiona
Fandom: Wrestling
Characters: Randy Orton and Dave Batista
Prompt:5 - Oil
Word Count: 1,311
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they themselves and WWE do. No money being made.
Author's Notes: This is the second in a series of 3 linked fics for the challenge, along with the fics for prompt 5 - oil and prompt 1 - rituals. For those who don't watch wrestling, this is Randy Orton and this is Dave Batista
It was mayhem before a show, at least one person was late, someone had lost some of their kit and then Melina tore her dress and so someone had to go and buy her a new one and argh! There was just too much to do with too many people trying to do three things at once. Randy was finding it really hard to get himself psyched up. 'Cause you needed to be, otherwise it just wasn't believable. You had to be in the zone to give a good performance in the ring. He did his best to get there but it was difficult.
He wasn't concentrating on what's going on so he was a bit confused when he heard the door shut and a sound that could only have been the door being locked. Once he'd heard it though, he didn't have to look up to know who it was and what was going to happen. It depended on where they were what happened, 'cause obviously, if there weren't massive number of rooms everyone got changed together so Dave couldn't be all over him. Some of the older guys, the ones that hadn't had quite the leg up he had had, told stories about school gyms and having to get changed in places where their heads nearly hit the ceiling, and the girls had to change in the toilets. Luckily it was a lot better for him, and at worst, he and Dave had to behave themselves because there was only the one male locker room. Sometimes, if they got lucky, though, and there were enough rooms, people spread out. Sure, head office preferred it if they didn't but come on, the fun that Randy had had in separate locker rooms.
The part of the preparation process that he always saved till last was oiling himself up. It wasn't just that waiting meant, if they were in wonderful separate locker rooms, that Dave would come "help" him with it, but also because, and no-one had ever been able to dispute the logic of this, it was horrible goop that had to do terrible things to your skin and he wanted to spend as little time as possibly in it.
"'Thought I might come give you a hand."
"You know your help is always welcome."
Randy took the oil out of his black kit bag and, having squeezed some of it out on to his palm, gave it to Dave. He did the same and put it down on the bench. Dave rubbed Randy's back with oil and then turned round to let Randy do the same to him. Then they faced each other and started to cover each other's fronts.
It was always a thrill to have Dave's hands on him at any time, even if his hands weren't touching him intimately. And even if every time Dave did this he seemed to take an almost perverse interest in ensuring that every inch of Randy's arm would be well oiled. Randy, on the other hand, was just pleased to be able to touch any part of Dave because the guy's body was a work of art. Randy was used to seeing seriously buff guys, he was one himself, but Dave's muscles were something else. With a lot of guys in the back they lumbered about, like there was a scrawny little man inside pulling the outside around like a puppet on strings, but with Dave, it wasn't like that. He was muscled, fantastically so, but supple with it. Those were obviously his and the years of work he'd put into them. Dave once told him that he'd been a skinny teenage, all height and nothing else, and, despite the photos, Randy still couldn't bring himself to believe it.
And he was the one that got to do this to Dave, run his fingers all over his chest, into all the little spaces that lay between his muscles and onto those muscles themselves. And he knew how to do it just right; judging by the way Dave all but picked him up and pushed him into the wall next to the showers. Dave was all over him, a strong pressure against every part of Randy. Dave had his hands all over Randy's torso and then his left hand came to rest somewhere round Randy's hipbone while his right held Randy's head as he bit gently into Randy's right earlobe. Randy arched into the touch at his hip, drawing his sensitised earlobe over Dave's teeth. He want more of a touch and tried to press their bodies closer together, tried to get Dave's hand, either of them, to move down further, to press hard on his growing erection, to bring some friction to bear, just to take the edge off because Randy knew that Dave would make certain that he wouldn't come. He wanted to, as Dave mercilessly revved his motor, even though he realised what would happen next. It was the same thing that happened every time, Dave pushed him and pushed him closer to the edge, and then,
"Orton! Where are you?"
"Here."
"Get your ass into forward gear and get to the stage. Now!"
Dave got off him giving him the most smug, self-satisfied smile. Because Dave knew exactly how hot he'd got Randy. And that Randy couldn't do anything about it.
As he walked towards the entrance, moving to where he'd wait for his cue to go on, he cursed Dave and the cursed himself for always falling for this. One of these days he’d have to start saying ‘no, no messing about before matches’. Except he enjoyed this, the sneaking around, and the fact that no matter how well Dave hid it, Randy now knew that he drove Dave just as crazy.
In many ways the way Dave could control his, well everything, was one of the things that Randy found most attractive. He didn't lose his temper half as much as everyone else did, and he did everything careful. And it wasn't control-freakery the way Hunter’s control of things was, with Hunter having to have everything just right, with Dave it was a calm, Zen type thing.
But Randy knew he could break through it. One time, just after they'd both been moved to Smackdown, one of their cues was late, a segment over-ran or something, and they'd gotten a more than a little carried away, Dave holding Randy pressed against the wall and a foot off the ground, with Randy's legs wrapped around his waist, and rocking his hips against Dave to get a touch, some pressure on his groin. Randy was a hairsbreadth from coming, no matter what the consequences might be.
That was of course when one of the runners yelled for Dave to get ready because he was due on. Life sucked like that.
Dave peeled himself off of Randy, as reluctantly as he could manage while he did it quickly, and kissed him. Randy had to steady himself against a wall as Dave left, because every bit of blood not already down there moved to his dick during that kiss.
That was the time that convinced him that Dave was just as hot for him as he was for Dave, because you just couldn't kiss like that and not be.
Right now though, none of that mattered as the blood started to thrum round him again, moving to his ears and muscles, heating him up everywhere. Except that it didn't go from his crotch, as per usual, which got a bit embarrassing, on occasion. Luckily this time he was facing Rene, who normally had the same problem, so neither of them were going make jokes about it like lots of other people would, plus once the adrenaline really hit, about five seconds into his music, it wasn't a problem, nothing except the match was.
50 Kinky Ways Table
