Three's a Crowd

A/N: I accidentally posted this story with no note at first. I just wanted to take a quick minute to warn you all that this story is a bit different than my other works. The subject matter is slightly controversial, but you guys have stuck with me through a lot of other touchy subjects, so I have every faith that you can handle this one, too! Many thanks to my co-author, Vera Roberts, who has encouraged me every step of the way with this one! I welcome your reviews, and as always, Enjoy!

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"I'm tellin' you, Sar, he's never gonna go for it."

"Have a little faith, Orton. We just have to ask the right way."

Burrowing further into the covers, John Cena fought to block out the muffled voices threatening to invade his sleep. Though the sunlight pouring through the windows told him that morning had arrived, an insistent pounding his brain told John that more sleep was necessary.

Why do I feel like I got hit with a brick? With a groan, he covered his face and squeezed his eyes tighter in defiance of waking so soon. Burying his face into the pillow beside him, John wondered why something felt different. Something wasn't right. The scent that filled his nostrils reminded him that his long-time girlfriend, Saryn Foster, should have been wrapped in his arms, cradled against his chest.

Without warning or permission, memories began to assault John's brain. They had been in New York City for a show at Madison Square Garden when Saryn had shown up to surprise him for his birthday. His best friend, Randy Orton, had arranged for a bash at the notorious Butter nightclub, where his friends and teammates had partied until the wee hours of the morning.

He remembered Saryn standing on a small coffee table, a bottle of champagne dangling between her fingers as her curvaceous hips swayed to the heavy hip hop beat saturating the club. John had reclined on a leather sofa, flanked on each side by Randy and Edge, enjoying Saryn's impromptu performance as they slammed back shot after sweet, burning shot.

His girlfriend was hypnotic, with her long, toned legs and full, firm breasts. The micro mini and knee-high boots that she sported only enhanced the image of seduction that she unwittingly created as she entertained the birthday boy and his friends. Saryn wasn't exactly inhibited when sober, and after consuming nearly an entire bottle of champagne, she had no qualms about dancing on a table for anyone to appreciate.

John allowed himself to smile at the memory of her long hair as it flowed over her shoulders when she rotated her hips against him, throwing her head back while she relished the feeling of his large shaft filling her completely. He thought about the angellic look on her face as she lay against the pillows of the bed, her thighs spread to accomodate the tongue between them. Rolling onto his side, he thought about the way her full, pink lips had parted in a sharp gasp as she accepted the attention being lavished on her body.

The reminiscent grin faded, though, as John realized he hadn't been the one bringing such intense oral pleasure to his girlfriend. The amount of alcohol required to convince him to share Saryn for the evening, even with his best friend, John didn't want to know. He supposed that, if he had to make an idiotic, drunken decision with anyone, he was glad it was Randy. He had been the one to introduce the happy couple in the first place.

Though he knew he was only justifying what he knew was a potentially volatile situation, John chose to ignore the strange feeling in his gut. What had been done couldn't be undone. He couldn't change it or fix it. He could only hope that everyone involved decided to forget it and move on as though the after-hours activities had never taken place.

Stretching his large arms over his head, John decided that feigning sleep would only delay the inevitable confrontation of the new day. Extending his legs and arching his back off of the soft mattress, John expelled a growl from his chest as his blue eyes fluttered open to greet the sunlight. Instead, he jumped at the sight of Saryn's dark gaze staring back at him.

"Um," John stammered, running a large hand over his chest to still his pounding heart. "Good morning?"

With a giggle, Saryn lowered herself to her boyfriend's side, stretching out beside him and hitching one leg over his broad thigh. "Morning, Sleepyhead," she whispered. "I thought you'd never wake up."

Rolling his head toward her, John felt Saryn's soft lips against his, shooting an excited shock through his body. Even after seven years together, her kisses still affected him like nothing else. "What time is it?" he mumbled, resting his forehead against hers lazily.

"It's after ten," the response came from the end of the bed.

Averting his gaze toward the sound, John watched as Randy perched on the edge of the chair, hastily pulling his socks over his large feet. "What time's our flight?" John asked nobody in particular.

Randy grabbed his PDA from the dresser and clicked a few buttons. "Not until two," he said, tossing the phone back to its resting place before thrusting his feet into his tennis shoes. "You've got a phone interview at noon, but it's a phone-in, so you can do it on the way to the airport," he informed.

With a smirk, John struggled to sit, propping himself against the headboard and pulled an unusually quiet Saryn against his chest. "So you're like my personal assistant now?" he teased Randy. "My secretary?"

Blushing slightly, Randy flipped John off and grabbed his personal items from the dreser. "Your woman mentioned it," he corrected, shoving his wallet and phone into his back pockets before buckling his belt, his eyes never meeting John's as he moved quickly. "I'm gonna go grab a shower and get my shit together. We've gotta check out by noon, so just meet me in the lobby before that."

John coudn't help laughing at the way Randy was scurrying around. "You rob a bank or somethin'?" he asked. He'd spent enough time traveling with Randy over the years to know that he never did anything in a hurry, especially in the morning. "Why the hell you sprintin', dude?"

Randy froze in his place, slowly turning his head toward the couple in the bed. John knew him well enough to read his expression without words. After the activities of the previous evening, the only thing Randy knew for sure was that he didn't want to see the look in his best friend's eyes. "Nah, I'm cool," he assured.

"You sure?" John asked, noting that Randy's eyes were flitting shiftily between himself and his girlfriend. "Relax, man," he advised. "Go get your shit and we'll meet you in the lobby in an hour. We'll grab breakfast before we head out."

Sighing in relief, Randy made his way to the door, offering a short wave before exiting the room without another word. If John told him to relax, everything would be alright.

"You sure everything's cool?" Saryn asked, turning in John's arms and smiling lazily at her boyfriend, who was appearing much more alert than he had minutes earlier. "I mean, last night was kinda outta control," she conceded.

John thought about the question. Was he okay with the fact that he and his best friend had taken turns with his girlfriend? Was he okay with the fact that they had, for all intents and purposes, had a completely hetero threesome? "Just tell me I didn't suck Orton's dick."

Pouting slightly, Saryn shook her head. "I even asked nicely, but you wouldn't," she teased.

His fingers trailed the smooth skin of her arms as he tried to recall all of the intimate details of the previous night through the hangover fog that was settling over his memory. "I didn't let him fuck me, did I?" Again, Saryn shook her head. "Then I'm all good," John said, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead.

"Good," Saryn whispered, nodding her head and blinking her eyes. "Good," she added.

For the first time since waking, it occured to John that his girlfriend might not be okay with what had happened. She had always been the more open-minded of the pair, but maybe the idea of being shared between two drunken frat boys wasn't something she found appealing. What if he had inadvertantly disrespected the woman he loved? What if they had forced her into something she had been opposed to?

"Saryn, are you?" She nibbled worridly on her bottom lip in response. "Are you okay with what happened last night?"

Nodding vigorously, Saryn cuddled closer to John. "I'm fine, Sweetie," she promised. "In fact, I kinda wanted to talk to you about everything."

"Okay," he answered hesitantly. What could she possibly want to say? "What's wrong, pretty girl?"

Nervously, Saryn swallowed hard and cleared her throat. She ran a finger down John's bare chest, fixated on the ripple of his hard muscles beneath his taught flesh. "Well," she started, clearing her throat again. "I was thinking about last night, and I was wondering how you would feel about maybe, possibly, doing it more often."

The suggestion hung in the air, as though she had made a gruesome confession. While he couldn't say it was out of character for her, the entire concept shocked John nonetheless. "You wanna fuck other people?" he asked incredulously.

Saryn shook her head, grabbing his neck and pulling him into a desparate, hungry kiss. Releasing him, she stared at him with wet, hopeful eyes. "No, John," she pleaded with him to understand. "God, I love you, baby. I don't need anyone else."

Considering her with a skeptical eye, John tried to see things from his girlfriend's perspective. "But you wanna sleep with other people," he stated, repeating what she had said. Or, at least, what he had heard.

"No," Saryn insisted again, her expression horrified at the insinuation. "I'm not a slut, John. I don't wanna just sleep with everybody."

The confusion clouding his brain made cognitive thought impossible. Scooting back on the bed, John struggled to fully take in his lover. "What exactly do you want, Saryn?"

She knew that he would be hesitant, but Saryn truly believed that she could convince John that this idea could work for them. "Look, I know it's unconventional, but Randy and I were talking," she started.

"Randy? You and Randy were talking?" Laughing, John ran a hand over his head and wished to hell that he was still asleep. "That's what you want? To fuck Randy whenever you feel like it?"

Saryn punched the headboard, expelling a long sigh of frustration. "No!" she defended. "It's not just fucking, John. That's not what I want," she stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose as she attempted to voice her proposition in a way that he would not only understand, but accept. "It would be a polygamous relationship."

"A poly," John started, his eyes wide at the mere prospect. "You want to date both of us? At the same time?" It was the most absurd thing he had ever heard, so much so that he was tempted to ask if she was still drunk. After seven years together, he felt he should have been able to spot a crazy thought from a mile off. Instead, he found himself wondering if he had ever known this woman at all.

Taking his hand, Saryn thought about the book she had been reading on polygamy. "It's not like you'll be sharing me," she explained. "It's more like one big, happy, functional relationship between the three of us."

Licking his lips, John spoke slowly, as if addressing a three-year-old. As far as he was concerned, that was Saryn's functioning brain level at the moment. "So, not only do you want to date Randy," he started, shaking his head, "but you want me to date him, too?" When Saryn nodded, John stood from the bed and rested his hands on his hips. "Woman, have you lost your motherfucking mind?"