"Hang on a second Paul."

 Paul Heyman turned around, scowling at his client. "Brock, we need to go! The Undertaker could be here any minute!"

 "We can go, just as soon as we swing by the locker room," Brock replied, turning to head in the direction of the general locker room.

 "What!" Heyman hurried after the huge man, his brows drawn together in a scowl. "We need to go, not pal around with the midcarders."

 "Don't worry, I just need to pick someone up," Brock replied, continuing on determinedly.

 "What are you talking about!" Heyman huffed.

 "John needed a ride back to the hotel, so I offered him one."

 "Cena? What do we need him hanging around us for?"

 Brock shot the older man a look. "Me, Paul. Not ‘us', me! You've been watching me 24/7 since I came here, and I'm getting pretty sick of it! I'm just gonna hang out with John, you can stay in your own room for once!"

 "What!" Heyman sputtered. "But - but Brock, if you do that, I won't be there to protect you if Taker tried anything!"

 Brock rolled his eyes. "You really think I need you for protection? Come on Paul; look at you, then look at me!"

 "That's not the issue!" Heyman objected. "I know how to protect you strategically!"

 "Yeah, well I think I'll be ok for one night." Brock stopped at he reached the main locker room, pushing it open and sticking his head inside.

 John Cena smiled at him, rising from the bench on which he was sitting and grabbing his bag. "Ready to go?"

 "Yep. I'm all yours." Brock grinned, his eyes running over John's body as the other man stood.

 John moved to his side and they took off down the hell, Heyman following close behind. John glanced back at the rotund manager, then leaned in closer to Brock, whispering in his ear. "We're gonna ditch him back at the hotel, right?"

 "Oh yeah," Brock assured him. "He's got his own room, and I'm locking the door to mine!"

 "Perfect." John gave the bigger man a fetching smile which made Brock's heart race, making the champion even more eager to get the attractive young man alone in his hotel room. The traffic- logged drive back to the hotel seemed agonizing, but once they finally pulled into the parking lot, Brock felt excitement flooding over him. He parked the car, shut off the engine, and practically leapt out, grabbing both his and John's bags from the trunk. He and John took off before Heyman could get one word out. They could hear Heyman screaming something about the Undertaker after them, but both ignored it, hurrying into the elevator.

 "Man, I don't know how you take being around him all the time!" John exclaimed as they excited the elevator and headed for Brock's room.

 "Honestly, I don't either," Brock chuckled, sliding his key card through the lock and holding the door open for John. "So..." He dropped both their bags by the door, licking his lips as he looked over the younger man. "Wanna settle down on the couch and watch a movie?"

 "Sounds good." John flopped onto the couch, gesturing to the door before Brock could join him. "Remember to lock it."

 "Right." Brock quickly slid the deadbolt closed, grabbing the tv remote and joining John on the couch. "Anything in particular you want to watch?" He started flipping through the channels, not really paying attention to what was flitting across the tv screen.

 "Nah. This is cool," the young brunette murmured as some movie popped onto the screen. "I won't be watching anyway." He smirked, taking the remote from the taller man and tossing it across the room. He crawled into Brock's lap, straddling the other man's powerful thighs. "So how long's it been since you - you know?"

 Brock sighed. "Since OVW?"

 John raised an eyebrow. "You shittin' me?"

 "Unfortunately not. Heyman's been watching me night and day since I got here."

 "Damn. That's gotta be at least 6 months, hmm?" John leaned in, letting his lips brush across Brock's muscular neck.

 "Yeah." Brock closed his eyes, tilting his head to give John better access. "How ‘bout you?"

 John chuckled. "What're we counting? ‘Cos I blew Edge 5 days ago, but it's been 8 since I got down and dirty with Chuck."

 "You lucky bastard," Brock muttered. "How the hell did you get Edge to let you blow him?"

 "By asking if he wanted some quick head before we got off the interstate," John replied with a wicked smirk.

 "You little slut." Brock raised his head, his hands moving to unbutton John's shirt. "I *so* envy you!"

 John laughed. "Don't try to talk like Edge, man, valley-boy *totally* doesn't suit you!"

 "Whatever." Brock pushed John's shirt back off his lean, muscular body, sliding his hands up the brunette's chest, then grasping the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. John responded eagerly, grasping Brock's tshirt and yanking it up over his head, their lips parting for only an instant before they connected again, the heat building between them as their hands explored each other's bodies.

 John tore his lips away for a moment, nipping at Brock's ear and whispering, "I don't know about you, but I'm not really in the mood for foreplay, I just want to feel you buried inside me!" His tongue darted out into Brock's ear, making the bigger man moan. He could only sit and gawk, his heart racing in anticipation, and John's hands slid down, caressing the growing bulge in his jeans and moving to unzip the tight pants.

 Just as he set his hand on the zipper, there was a loud banging on the door. "Brock! Brock are you ok in there! The door seems to be stuck!" came Heyman's concerned shout.

 Brock groaned, cursing as John stopped completely. "I'm fine Paul! Just go to your own room, I'll see you tomorrow!"

 "I really think I should talk to you about your match Sunday, go over some strategy!" Heyman shouted.

 "We'll do it tomorrow! I'm tired and I'm just going to watch this movie and go to bed!" Brock snapped.

 "Let me come in and check that the bed's set up right for you! We don't want you hurting your back sleeping on a bad mattress!"

 "The bed's fine! Just go!" Brock growled.

 "Well, ok, but if you need anything, I'm right next door!"

 "Great, I'll let you know if I have any trouble!" Brock sighed with relief after a quiet moment passed, taking John's hand and placing it back on his crotch. "Go on," he growled, watching with great anticipation as John unzipped his pants. He raised his hips to let the brunette slip the pants off his hips, the younger man pulling them completely off and dumping them on the floor, leaving Brock in only his cotton boxers.

 John gave Brock a seductive grin, licking his lips as he stood and flexed his muscles. "My turn," he murmured, slowing sliding his pants down his lips to reveal a tiny red thong. He turned his back on Brock, giving the other man a full view of his exposed behind as he bent over to pull his pants over his feet. Brock was flushed with lust by the time the brunette again returned to his lap, their arms immediately closing around each other and their lips colliding in heated passion.

 "Woah, my god!"

 Brock's eyes bugged as the nasal voice filled the room. He looked up to find Heyman staring at them, pale and looking shocked. "How the hell did you get in here?" he exclaimed.

 "The adjoining door was open." Heyman pointed to the open passage. "Brock, this is not a good idea! You're supposed to be preparing for Sunday, not wasting your energy with some little skank!"

 "Skank!" John fumed, his face instantly darkening. "Do I look like a *skank* to you?" He raised his arms, flexing his muscles proudly.

 Heyman eyes him distastefully. "Considering that you'd let anyone in the company down to the lowliest member of the ring crew stick his dick in you, I'd say you more than earn that title!"

 "Funny, aren't you on the roster, Paul?" John growled, climbing off Brock's lap and snatching his clothes off the floor. "I think you are, and your dick is going in me over my dead body!" He yanked on his pants and pulled his shirt over his arms, leaving it open as he headed for the door. "John, wait!" Brock cried in dismay, watching as his near-conquest shouldered his bag and unbolted the door.

 "Sorry Brock, maybe another time." John shot Brock an apologetic look, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Heyman. "I hope you choke on a chicken bone, you old tub of lard!"

 "Oh, I think choking on a bone is YOUR area, not mine," Heyman replied smugly. John growled, spinning on his heel and stalking out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him.

 "God dammit Paul!" Brock groaned, letting his head fall against the back of the couch and closing his eyes in dismay. "Why the hell did you have to do that? Why couldn't you just let me get laid?"

 "Brock, I've seen a lot of guys go through this business, and believe me, you do not want to get involved with a boy like that!" Heyman informed his client. "Oh sure, he seems like an ‘all American boy' with ‘ruthless aggression', but take it from me, he's a bitch is disguise, and he'll ruin you!"

 "I don't want to get involved with him, I just want to fuck him!" Brock snarled. "You know what would really help me focus on destroying Taker this Sunday, Paul? Getting laid, so I could think about something besides sex!"

 "Well, the skank's gone, there's nothing I can do about it now," Heyman replied with a shrug. "Sorry."

 "Paul, I'm telling you! I need to get laid!" Brock exclaimed.

 Heyman shook his head. "Sexual tension is good for the competitive spirit, Brock. Makes you focus all your energy on destroying your opponent in that ring!"

 "No it doesn't," Brock growled, "It just drives me nuts!"

 Heyman heaved a loud, over exaggerated sigh. "Well if you absolutely insist, I'll do my best to set something up for you tomorrow. Maybe with Jeff Hardy or something."

 "You think I'm fucking stupid?" Brock snapped. "Not only would I never touch that little skank, but I know you'd never let him within 10 damn feet of me!"

 "Well uh - " Heyman sidled over to the couch, sinking down next to Brock. "You know, uh, if you'd really like a little, ahem, relief, right now, I could, uh - "

 "You're not suggesting..." Brock gave Heyman a disbelieving look.

 "Well, I do have some experience." Heyman shrugged. "It would just be to tide you over until after the PPV. I'll make sure you can rendevous with some nice cute boys on the roster next week, ok?"

 Brock frowned, mulling it over for a moment. "You swear you'll never mention this to ANYONE?" he demanded.

 "Cross my heart," Heyman assured him, licking his lips and glancing eagerly at Brock's still tented boxers.

 "God, I can't believe I'm doing this, but..." Brock threw his hands up in the air. "What the hell. But just this once, you got it? It never happened."

 "Course not." Heyman grinned, sinking to his knees before his ‘client', whom he had been madly in lust with from the moment he saw him. "Never happened," he murmured as he licked his lips again.


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