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Title: It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas
Pairing: John/Randy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em
Summary: The time has come for Christmas preparations at the Cena/Orton household. They listen to Christmas music, and Randy nags John about presents. Same ‘ol, same ‘ol, really.




John walked into the living room, taking care to step around the boxes Randy had laid out amongst the space over the last few days. They had already put up their tree, Randy making sure to point out all the time they saved by getting a pre-lit tree.

The radio was on, playing Christmas music, as if Randy would listen to anything else at this time of year. John could hear Randy’s singing, but he couldn’t see him. He followed the sounds of, “Fine, you’re so smart, you rig up the lights” and found him standing behind the tree, putting up more ornaments wearing nothing but a pair of sweats.

“Lookin’ good,” John told him, hearing Little Drummer Boy begin.

“That’s a loaded statement if there ever was one. What were you expecting me to say? ‘And the tree looks pretty good, too’?”

“Wouldn’t put anything like that past you.” John removed one of the ornaments from the tree, grimacing as a few specks of gold glitter fell off.

“Would you put that back? You’re getting glitter everywhere.”

“Excuse me? I’m the one getting glitter everywhere?”

“Yeah. Now, did you want to help? Because I can excuse you if you’re gonna help. If you’re just gonna stand around and make a mess, then—”

“I already helped,” John said, referring to the single ornament he placed on the tree. Ever since they had been together, it had been a tradition of theirs to put up one ornament together, both holding onto the hook as they placed it on a branch right in the front.

“That one ornament? Is that really all you’re planning on helping with?”

“I think you’d do a much better job of things without me getting in the way. You seem to know what you’re doing.”

Randy moved from around the back of the tree, brushing glitter and tree needles off of him as he stood before John. “Ok, you have a point. You really do have a way of getting in the way of things. Oh, this is a great one,” Randy said, pushing past John to turn up the radio even more as Christmas in Kilarney started up on the radio.

“You know you’ve been listening to Christmas music since before Thanksgiving, right?”

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s much variety,” John said, waving his hands in front of him, as if that’d help him prove his point.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s not much variety. How many times do you hear White Christmas in one day?” John asked.

“Probably about four times.”

“Point proven.”

“But they’re always by different people. It might be the same song, but everyone adds their own touch to it, making it a different song in theory,” Randy countered.

“You’re fucking impossible. You have such a sick obsession with Christmas songs. Have you ever met one you don’t like?”

“Sure have,” Randy answered with a nod.

“Then how come I’ve never heard it?”

Randy raised his eyebrow, that gesture alone saying, ‘Do I really have to explain?’ “You’re such a dumbass. I turn it off. Haven’t you ever wondered why, if we’re in the car, I’ll turn the station and suddenly some rock music is playing instead of my Christmas songs?”

“Thought you might actually be appeasing me for once.”

“Right. Never gonna happen. It’s really because a shitty song is on. Or, rather, the one shitty song is on.”

“There’s only one?”

“Don’t change the station that often, do I?”

“No, you don’t. For hours on end, it’s nothing but Christmas music. All ten different renditions of White Christmas playing every day. Same damn playlist repeating about four times every day.”

“Woah, there, John. What did Christmas songs ever do to you?”

“I just don’t know how you can’t get sick of listening to it over and over!”

“You’ve already put up with it for the last seven years—”

“Wait a second, seven years? There’s no way I’ve been with you for seven years. You gotta be thinkin’ about someone else. Although I don’t know how someone could stand you and your shit for much longer than five minutes, let alone years.”

“You know what, John? You’re always giving me shit about being annoying, but you’ve got your moments when I just can’t stand being around you. So maybe you should just back the fuck up and not give me such a hard time.”

John was just about to reply when he heard Linus and Lucy start up. He looked to the radio, then back at Randy and smiled, “Always liked this one. You can never be angry when the Peanuts theme is on.”

“Bet you used to do the Snoopy dance when you were a kid.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Wasn’t saying that, was I? Do your mum have it on tape? I bet she does. I’ll tell her that we need to watch old home movies for Christmas this year.”

“No,” John said with a shake of his head, “I really don’t think you need to do that.”

“Oh, you’re trying to stop me from seeing them, that’s a sign that there’s some damn good shit that you don’t want me to see.”

“Well, you’re gonna talk to her no matter what I say. If I say sure, then obviously… And when I object, that just makes you want to see them even more. I don’t know what she has of me on tape, ok? I’m sure there’s a lot, though.”

Randy moved in closer, raising a hand to let it run down the back of John’s head, his other hand resting on John’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s been seven years, I think I can see some of your old home movies, right? Plus, your mum and I can talk about how cute you used to be and wonder what happened to you.”

John grinned as he muttered, “Fuck you,” but leaned in for a kiss anyway.

“So,” Randy asked as they broke apart from the kiss, “what did you get me for Christmas this year?”

John rolled his eyes. “That’ll have to wait until Christmas Eve. Maybe even Christmas day… of 2010, if you keep it up.”

“See, this is what I mean. You’re always saying ‘Oh, Randy, you’re such an ass,’ as if you can do no wrong because you’re the all holy John fucking Cena, and then you turn around and you say shit like that. Withholding Christmas presents has to be some kind of cardinal sin. Cruel and unusual punishment at the very least,” Randy said, a grin on his face the whole time.

“Hey, I’m only—”

“Shut up,” Randy said, cutting John off as he moved over to the radio. “No talking during Cheech and Chong,” he added as he turned up the knob.

“You know it by heart, what does—”

“No. Talking,” Randy said, just before he went back to reciting the whole thing word for word.

John moved around the boxes once again to the couch, where he sat down, then brought his legs up so he could recline against the arm rest and still watch Randy go about placing more ornaments on the tree as they traded lines from Cheech and Chong back and forth.

As soon as Santa and his Old Lady ended, Randy turned the volume down a little, then headed to the couch, smacking John’s legs, trying to get him to move them. When he didn’t, Randy sat down on top of them, smiling. “I love Christmas.”

“Really, Randy? Really? Because I couldn’t notice over all these fucking Christmas decorations. I’m surprised you don’t have one of those little villages with the snowy buildings and all that shit.”

Randy smirked. “Maybe I will get one now. Thanks for reminding me of those.”

“Shit. Like we really need more crap.”

“I’ll get one tomorrow.” Randy then moved his upper half so he was now lying on his side on top of John. He then lifted his legs, using his feet to push himself further upwards, both shifting around until they were comfortable. “So, John,” Randy began, running his fingers over John’s abs, “what did you get me this year?”

“A muzzle.”

“Oh, so you want to go down the kink route?”

“Already used our cuffs on TV.”

“True, true.”

“This was solely for my benefit, though. Just put it on you and then,” John added a dramatic, blissful sigh, “silence.”

“But what did you really get me,” he asked once more, letting his hand trail up even higher.

“A dildo in an exact replica of your dick. That way when I tell you to go fuck yourself—”

“I hate you. You fucking bastard. You stole my idea for you,” Randy finished with a smirk.

“Well, what’s that saying about great minds?”

“That you married me for mine?”

“No, I married you for you body,” John told him.

“As long as it wasn’t for the money.”

John’s fingers, which had previously been brushing over Randy’s head, stopped suddenly, and Randy could feel his body tense. Then he looked into John’s face. “About that, Randy. Baby, I’m so sorry, I—”

“So the truth finally comes out. All this time you were telling me it was for my body and the sex, but you really only wanted me for the money,” Randy said, his voice somber, but his eyes were twinkling and he was fighting a grin.

“If it helps, the sex and your body were still factors behind this whole thing.”

Finally the grin won out. “Well, that’s ok, then. Lord knows it’s not the fact that we love each other, or anything like that.”

“Right.”

“So, what did you get me for Christmas?”

John smacked the back of his head. “Not until Christmas Eve. And don’t even think about looking for the gifts.”

“You have them stashed at your parents’ house, don’t you?”

“Do I?”

“Do you?”

“Can’t tell ya.”

“You’re a bastard,” Randy muttered, rolling over onto his stomach so his body was now flush on top of John’s.

“Takes one to know one.”

“And that’s a fact,” Randy said soundly before placing a kiss on John’s lips.

John let his hands slide up Randy’s back, rubbing his palms over the toned surface. As he returned the kiss, he let his hands roam further, slipping under the band of Randy’s sweats. “Mmm, commando?”

“Woulda gone naked, but I didn’t wanna risk getting needles or glitter anywhere near there,” Randy informed him.

John chuckled, “Yeah, we can pass on the naked tree decorating.” His hand then slid around to the front of Randy’s pants, brushing over Randy’s hardening cock.

“You say ‘we’ as if you actually did something to help me.” He raised his hips up slightly as John’s hand gripped his dick firmly.

“Like I said before, I’d just get in the way.” He raised his head to meet Randy’s, pressing his lips to Randy’s in a quick kiss. “Besides, I think I can be far more helpful in other aspects.”

“You think so, huh? How do you figure?” he asked in a voice just barely over a whisper. He groaned and shut his eyes when John pulled his hand upwards then lowered it back down to the base of his dick. “Keep this up, maybe I will just keep you around.”

“Told you I could be helpful.” He then released Randy’s dick, much to Randy’s confusion. “Just get up.”

Randy raised an eyebrow and dropped one leg to the floor and began to stand, but John dragged him back on top of him. “But you—”

“I mean raise yourself up.”

This time Randy moved his hands to the arm rest and pushed himself up, letting his knees dig into the couch cushions around John. Now free of Randy’s weight, John shimmied down the couch until he was face level with Randy’s crotch. He pushed the sweats over Randy’s hips, licking at the smooth skin as soon as it was revealed. As he moved his mouth closer to Randy’s dick, he could feel Randy’s muscles tensing and moving under his hands, which were resting now on Randy’s ass.

And then, finally, John closed his mouth over Randy, using his hands to push Randy down deeper into his practiced mouth and throat. Randy was moving his own hips, assisting John, who was also raising his head up in time with Randy, getting as much of Randy’s dick into his mouth as he could.

John’s hands slid up and down Randy’s ass, inching closer and closer to the crack, finally brushing a single finger downwards until he found the puckered hole. He let his finger tease around the rim, just as his tongue was doing to the head of Randy’s dick, swirling round and round, pleasuring him just enough to drive him crazy, but not near enough to drive him over the edge.

“Mmm, fuck, John,” Randy muttered as he continued to drive his dick into John’s mouth, “at least you’re good for something.”

Unable to speak, John just mumbled his words around a mouthful of cock, the guttural sounds and vibrations sending shivers through the whole of Randy’s body.

As the pace picked up, Randy’s orgasm grew closer, his hips moving faster, John working to keep up and match movements. “Oh, fuuuuck, John,” Randy groaned. “Do it again.”

So he did. John hummed around Randy’s dick, and John felt every twitch of Randy in his mouth. He then pulled off of him almost completely, licking at just the head, catching the leaking liquid on his tongue. “Good for a lotta things,” he said before once again plunging Randy’s dick deep into his throat, finally pushing Randy over, and he made sure to swallow every drop.

Once John had moved his way back up the couch, Randy’s arms let him go, dropping his full weight onto John. “Always gotta get the final word, don’t you?”

“And you’re always sure to point that out, in turn getting yourself the final word.”

“Hmm, you caught onto that?” Randy asked before placing a quick kiss on John’s lips.

“Yeah, a little while back.”

Randy just smirked, changing the subject. “Hey, I should take care of that for ya, shouldn’t I?” He let his own hand slip downwards to graze over John’s own dick.

“I wouldn’t complain.”

“I will if you tell me what you got me for Christmas.”

Title: Hot For Teacher
Pairing: Cody Rhodes/Ted DiBiase
Raiting: NC-17
Summary: Ted is a new teacher and Cody is in one of his classes. How will they deal with the feelings that grow between them?
Disclaimer: All rights belong to the WWE
Word Count: 4478
A/N: This was written for the 'Hot for Teacher' fic challenge over at codiasi. Now I can finally start reading them all! Also, I hope this works for it, considering how the fic goes... You'll see...


( Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad; I'm hot for teacher )