Between The Sheets

Note: I have a new favorite song, and I've decided that since I've taken down a few stories to be revamped I'll be generous and put up a new one. It won't be very long, I don't think. Maybe ten chapters at the most. And I'll do a cheap plug for my favorite band Monty Are I. Check them out! The song is called "Between The Sheets", hence the name of the story… And Katy, you're right. I couldn't resist the pairing. LOL.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story. Yup, don't own them. If I did, Cena would be gone FOREVER and Triple H would be ruler of the WWE. LOL. Ooh and I don't own the title. The AMAZING, TALENTED, COOL Monty Are I own it.

Chapter One: It's All Over

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"I don't understand you!" Lilian Garcia screamed over the raging music inside of the hip hop club they were in. Trish Stratus sat opposite of the Latina in the booth, her head resting in the palm of her hand with a bored expression on her face.

"This is so boring, though," Trish mumbled, knowing Lilian wouldn't be able to hear her anyway. She took another long drink of her Kamikaze in front of her. The club, pulsing with the rap music and dancing people, was too boring for her.

"LET'S DANCE!" Lilian yelled at her. Trish rolled her hazel eyes. She didn't want to dance. She wanted to go back to the hotel. She wanted to go lie down and sleep. They went to clubs almost every night. What made this one so different?

"I'm leaving!" Trish called out when the music was slowly dying down. Lilian's mouth dropped open in protest but she decided to leave it alone. Trish stood and grabbed her purse, throwing it up onto her shoulder. She slammed a ten dollar bill onto the table and walked off.

She weaved through the grinding crowd towards the entrance where scantily clad women stood to escort people in. The lights flashed different colors around her, the strippers danced faster to the upbeat song, and Trish almost got caught up in the moment by swiveling her hips. But she stopped. She didn't want to be here.

She was almost to the entrance when something caught her eye. Walking in, with his best friends, was him. His eyes gleamed in the strobe lights when two brunettes grabbed his arms. Trish stopped dead in her tracks and watched him pass her with the confidence of a king. Only then did he turn his head and meet her eyes. She watched him walk towards the VIP section with Paul Lévesque, Dave Batista, John Cena, and Adam Copeland.

She almost turned and walked after him but she told herself no. They weren't supposed to interfere with each other's lives. They talked occasionally, but they were far from friends. Trish walked out of the club, wondering if he was going to come tonight at all since she knew he'd be fucking a ring rat before the night was over.

No one's as good as me, though, Trish thought with a smirk as she climbed inside of her car. She drove back to the hotel in silence, her mind clouded with the images of them together. She shook the thoughts from her head and got out of the car once it was parked. She walked inside the Marriott hotel with a little less confidence than before. She was tired and pretty pissed for no reason at all.

"Trish! Hey!" Torrie Wilson waved from the bar. Trish just waved back once seeing who she was with. She didn't want to go talk to Stacy Keibler. The prize of the company. The one who brought them so much fame from her stupid Dancing With the Stars gig.

Star my ass. She's a two cent hooker, Trish thought venomously. She continued to walk despite Torrie calling her to come back and sit with them. Trish entered the empty elevator and sighed loudly.

Why did she have to be so negative? She tried to like everyone. She really did. But there was something about most of the wrestlers and divas backstage that she couldn't stand. Some were obnoxious like John Cena, few were bitchy like Candice Michelle and Stacy Keibler, and most were hateful like Chris Masters and Glenn Jacobs. She couldn't help that they were almost always cranky because they had just gotten off the road. It wasn't her fault that they ran out of gas and had to call for a tow truck. It definitely wasn't her fault that their flight got delayed. And yet they took out their aggressions on her.

Trish stepped out once on her floor and looked around. The hallway was empty. She slowly trudged down the carpeted corridor, her boots dragging slightly. She reached her room a few minutes with a pained expression on her face. When she wasn't paying attention to where she was walking there was a large bump under the carpet and she tripped. She had fallen, of course.

"Damn carpet," Trish cursed as she rubbed her now sore knee. She walked inside of her small hotel room and looked around resentfully. She hated staying in hotels. They were always uncomfortable, and her thoughts kept drifting back to what people really did in the rooms.

"Stop thinking about that," She chided herself as she stared at the bed. She got a sick feeling in her stomach. Suddenly she didn't want to go to sleep on that bed. She wanted to be at home in her own comfortable, fluffy bed with the down blanket.

Trish changed immediately. Her clothes were thrown precariously into her suitcase, not bothering to fold them like the rest of the clothes were. She pulled on a ribbed tank top and her Happy Bunny "Boys Suck" pajama pants before sitting on the small couch in the TV area. She flipped through the limited number of channels boredly.

After a while she threw the remote down onto the hard floor with a growl. There was nothing on. She looked around the small room for something to do. Anything to do. She didn't want to take a shower. She didn't want to go to sleep because she wasn't tired. And she sure as hell didn't want to go back to that club. After a few minutes of deliberating she decided to go down and grab some candy from the gift shop.

Why they have a gift shop in a hotel is beyond me, Trish thought when she reached the little shop with no one in it. She walked inside, her fuzzy black slippers scratching against the barely carpeted floor. She picked up Skittles, Reese's, a Butterfinger, and a few packs of Trident Watermelon Twist gum. After paying for the hefty load of candy she walked out of the store. She tore open the skittles and dumped some into her hand.

"Trish!" She heard her name being called from the bar once again. She turned slightly to see Torrie yet again with Stacy Keibler sitting at the table closest to the door. Trish groaned outwardly but walked over when she waved.

"Hey, Torrie," She acknowledged. Wanting to show how mean she could be, Trish ignored Stacy completely, "How are you, Torrie?" She emphasized her name.

"I'm good! Stacy's great too," She offered her skinny friend a smile. Stacy glared at Torrie then looked to Trish with a deep resentment in her eyes.

"Trish," She hissed. Trish held in the smart remark begging to escape her mouth and only nodded. Saying her name might poison her.

"So? Why don't you sit with us and have a drink," Torrie grinned happily. Trish knew she just wanted to talk since they were friends but she didn't want to sit and be civilized with Stacy.

"Er… I was going to go and watch a movie so no thanks," Trish said politely. Torrie pouted.

"Aww, just one drink!" She begged. Trish shook her head and wrenched her arm from the Playboy models grip.

"Not tonight, Tor," She said forcefully. She walked away from the other two blondes with a small smirk on her face.

She made it back to her room quickly. There was something about those empty hallways that made her paranoid. It felt like someone was watching her all the time she was in the elevator and walking down the hallway to her room. But once inside she was safe. Or so she thought.

When she shut the door she was roughly thrown into the wall. Not expecting this she cried out in pain when the back of her head hit the cold wall. But once she felt a body pressed against her she knew who it was. The scent of his cologne invaded all of her senses, and she almost smiled. Almost.

Trish pushed him off of her and slammed him into the door. He picked her up and let her wrap her legs around his waist. After another push into the wall their lips met in a hungry kiss. She hadn't expected him to come so soon. She didn't expect him at all. Their tongues danced together as his large hands moved under her tank top. Trish broke their kiss and hissed when his hand moved over her stomach.

"Finished with your hooker for the night, Orton?" She asked him. Randy Orton half-smiled at her demanding question.

"Hell no," He answered huskily, referring to her. Trish glared daggers at him.

Cocky son of a bitch! She yelled in her head. He began to kiss down her soft neck, nipping occasionally. Trish sighed loudly and tightened her legs. She felt him hard against her and bit down on her lip. She wanted this and yet she didn't. She hated him and yet she wanted him.

Trish unhooked her legs and they stumbled into the room, Randy's blue buttons up shirt falling to the floor after all the buttons were ripped out when she grasped the collar and tore it open. Randy pulled off her top expertly and they fell back onto the bed. His hands roamed her body while Trish was working on his belt buckle.

"Fuck," Randy muttered when his cell phone began to go off. Trish looked over at the vibrating phone and growled. She snatched it before he could and saw who it was. His whore. Stacy. He climbed off of the blonde and took the phone from her. Trish glared at him.

"Hello?" He said through clenched teeth. Trish watched him with a look of pure disgust on her face. Why did she do this with him? Why did she agree to start this affair with him? She hated him more than anyone in the locker room.

"I'll be back at the hotel in two hours. The boys and I are at a restaurant having a very late dinner," He lied smoothly. Trish rolled her eyes. Late dinner is right, she thought. She heard Stacy arguing on the other line and grinned. She remembered why she started this affair in the first place. To get back at Stacy for spreading a nasty rumor that she had fucked John Cena and Adam Copeland at the same time.

"Yeah, you too, bye," Randy hung up and turned to Trish who was propped up on both of her elbows. Trish surveyed him and raised one eyebrow. They'd never been interrupted before. It was weird to see him just standing there.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Trish asked bitterly. Randy glared down at her.

"I was about to ask you the same damn question," He growled back at her. Trish stood and shoved him into a chair on the opposite side of the room.

She kissed him roughly. She wanted it to bruise both of their lips. She wanted him to remember how much better she was than Stacy. She wanted him to have to hide it from Stacy though it'd be nearly impossible. Her tongue collided with his, and she was soon pulled onto his lap. She ground down onto him which earned a low groan from deep in Randy's throat.

"I so hate you," Trish gasped when he sucked at her neck. She felt him smirk against her skin but he said nothing.

Then their clothes were all discarded. She let him do what he wanted. She knew it was wrong. But this was what she wanted. She wanted him to fuck her without any strings attached. Except she felt her heart being tugged every time he left, and she didn't want that. So as she rode him she came to the conclusion that this would be the end. She didn't want it to be, but for her sake, she had to end it.

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Note: My Randy and Trish muses want to kill me for not letting them fuck. They already have their pitchforks and torches... (sigh) Oh well! LOL. So, that's the first chapter. I actually kinda like it. So… reviews are appreciated, and I'd love to know what you think of it!

Rachel