Disclaimer: I do not own anyone depicted in this story nor did any of this happen in real life.

A/N This one-shot is written by xxBattleBirdxx, who handles the parts of Jeff in our story The Only Drug I Need. This is a Randy/Punk that I came up with one day and have been meaning to write for some time now. Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think.

Punk laid in bed in the dark. He had lain down to sleep hours ago, but still nothing. Then he heard the key card in the door and light from the hallway spilled into the dark room before disappearing, accompanied by the sound of the door shutting. Punk could hear the shuffling of a large body and a bag hitting the ground at the foot of the bed. Then the bed next the Punk sunk down from the weight of the person, who reached out and touched his face. Punk just kept lying there, unmoving.

"I know you're awake. It takes you forever to fall asleep without me." The deep voice spoke the truth. It had become nearly impossible for the Voice of the Voiceless to sleep in hotel room without the warmth of this man.

Punk rolled over fully and opened his eyes, seeing the silhouette of the large figure.

"I'm so tired, Randy." Punk was so deep in this thing he didn't know what to do with himself. Ever since this had started over a year ago Punk knew it would end him, yet he kept falling into Randy Orton's embrace. Night after night they showed up at each other's rooms, taking what they wanted, then leaving and acting like nothing had ever happened. At work they kept their distance, not talking. No one ever suspected anything because Punk and Randy had never acted as anything more than coworkers. They never spoke to one another in the locker room or at social events. It was easy. It all started when Randy got his divorce. Punk found the man upset and couldn't help but try and comfort him a bit. Then it happened, he got to involved and everything else is history.

"You're always tired, Punk." Randy said coldly. Randy was usually cold. This was just a physical release to Randy. Sometimes they talked after, which was Punks number one mistake. He should have never gotten to know Randy on that level.

Randy stood and stripped to his boxers, crawling into bed, not even laying down but covering Punk's body with his. They both wore nothing but boxers, the rest of their skin exposed and touching. Randy dipped his head and captured Punks mouth in a bruising kiss that Punk knew he would still feel tomorrow. For a moment the older man thought about pushing Randy away but that thought soon ended when he felt a hand slide down into his boxers. Randy stroked him to life, giving Punk's dick a squeeze before letting his hand slide back up to Punk's chest. Not being able to help his reaction, Punk opened his legs so that his knees were at either side of Randy's hips. Taking this as an invitation Randy pushed his hips down, rubbing their erections together through the thin material of their boxers, which to Punk was too much for them to be wearing at all.

Randy broke the kiss to remove Punks boxers, then his own, barely leaving contact with Punk's body as he did so. Then he fully came back down on Punk, rubbing their bodies together.

"What do you want, Phil?" Randy used Punk's real name now. Punk never knew why Randy switched to his real name when things heated up, but he did.

"Why do you call me that?" Punk asked out loud this time. Usually he was just compliant for Randy, letting the man take from him before leaving in the early morning hours, not saying good bye or giving Punk a kiss.

"Call you what? Your name?" Randy asked sarcastically, as if it was obvious.

"No one calls me Phil, Randy. And the only time you do is during sex. Why?" Punk looked into the Vipers blue eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Because I feel like it. It's not a big deal. Stop being such a girl." With that Randy ended the conversation by leaning down and kissing Punk as roughly as possible, as if to punish him for asking the question.

Randy lifted himself enough to reach down to the floor, looking for something in his jeans. When he found it he came back up and Punk realized he should have known. It was lube. Randy wasn't one to wait for Punk to get to prepped. Drizzling some onto his fingers Randy reached between them, pressing his fingers to Punk's tight entrance. Without giving warning Randy pushed two fingers in fully, pushing them in as far as possible before scissoring them and pulling them out, repeating the action several times. Punk bit his lip piercing to stop himself from moaning but it didn't work. Randy's name fell from his lips when a thick finger found his prostate, hitting it several times before adding a third finger. Randy had a smirk on his face as Punks fists clenched in the sheets and he writhed around under the younger man's larger frame.

"Ready, Philly?" Randy asked, not really meaning for Punk to answer. That's how things were, Randy got what he wanted but didn't really give a damn if it's what Punk wanted. Why was Punk so in love with a man who didn't give a damn about him?

Randy leaned up, grasping his impressive cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple of times, spreading some of the excess lube around himself. Randy grabbed Punk's legs and spread them wider. Luckily Punk did the occasional yoga otherwise it would be painful. Randy lined himself with Punk's newly stretched hole and pushed himself all the way in, groaning, and giving Punk no time to adjust before starting a brutal pace. Punk was used to this, being fucked rough and fast, but this time Randy hadn't used as much lube as usual and was being a bit rougher. The only thing keeping Punk from whimpering was Randy's incessant pounding on Punk's prostate, making Punk cry out in pleasure and lock his legs around the larger man. Punk ran his nails down Randy's back, not being able to contain himself. Sweat beaded on his body. He needed to be touched, his hard length was trapped between their bodies begging for release. Punk reached down but found his hand pinned above his head.

"Not until I say you can." Randy said, slowing his pace a bit to look Punk in the eye. Punk was confused. Randy had never denied or cared if Punk got himself off during sex. What the fuck was going on?

Randy began his fast pace again, grabbing onto Punks hips and pounding him, if they hadn't been doing this for over a year and Punk was used to Randy's size it would have hurt more. Finally Punk felt Randy's body tighten up and his pace quicken, he was close. Punk knew the signs; Randy bit his lip, moaned low in his throat, closed his eyes. Punk knew everything about the way Randy lost control when he came. It was the only time Randy was really true to himself, there was always a moment where Randy was gentle and tender when he came. Randy reached between their bodies and grabbed Punks dick, stroking him in time to his thrusts. Randy knew how Punk like to be touched, it was just that he rarely did it. He usually left Punk to tend to himself. Why was he doing these things now?

Punk felt his stomach tighten and his insides begin to burn. He was just as close as Randy was. With a few more thrusts and strokes from Randy they both came hard; Randy filling Punk with his orgasm and Punk covering both of their stomachs. After a few moments Randy pulled himself free from Punks warm body and rolled to lay next to Punk, not holding him, not pulling him close, just lying there. Their hearts pounding and breath heavy. Punk finally felt himself getting so tired he could fall asleep, knowing Randy was next to him. Just as his eyes shut on their own and Punk drifted, Randy spoke.

"Why does it matter?" Randy asked.

"Why does what matter?" Punk was genuinely confused.

"The reason I call you Phil in bed." Randy stated, like it was obvious.

"Because any other time I'm just Punk, but here I'm Phil." Punk laughed. "And in bed is where you treat me more like Punk than Phil."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Randy asked.

Punk sighed, it was probably time to come clean with his feelings about the situation. "In bed you're not personal; you're rough and uncaring. I figured my stage name would fit better in that situation than the name that only the truly closest people call me, like my sisters."

Randy sat up and turned the bedside lamp on, looking at Punk. "What do you mean I'm not personal? What about this needs to be personal?" Randy rolled his eyes and got out of bed, gathering his cloths and putting them on. Punk didn't do anything. Perhaps this would be the end of this and he could move on. Maybe his love for Randy would end.

"This is just sex, Phillip." Randy put emphasis on Punks given name. "There are no feelings. Don't tell me you got feelings?" Punk just looked at Randy, trying not to give himself away, but that was hard when the man read him like a book.

"Oh my god! You did get feelings!" Randy laughed. "Well I have news for you Phillip, you were just a fuck. Now that that part is done and ruined it, guess I have to find someone else. Jesus, feelings. I thought better of you Punk." With that Randy picked up his bags and left the room, leaving a teary eyed Punk in bed.

After Randy left Punk couldn't sleep, so he showered, trying to scrub the man's scent and touch from his skin, but it didn't work. Punk always knew Randy would hurt him, but he didn't think Randy would laugh in his face like this. Punk hadn't let anyone in his heart in years and when he finally had, is blew up in his face. Was this going to happen every time he fell in love? No, because this was the last time Punk was going to fall in love. This was the last time he was going to let someone have this power over him.

Phillip Jack Brooks would never let himself love again.

Randy walked down the hallway to the room he had just rented. The one he didn't want to be sleeping in tonight. ?He wanted to be in Punks room. In Phil's room. But he couldn't. Punk was the champion. Punk was the star. Punk would always be the star and he was happy. Randy always ruined what he cared about the most. No matter how it turned out Punk would be hurt, this way at least the man Randy cared for could still have his career. Otherwise, Randy would ruin Punk, and he couldn't let himself ruin what he loved. If that meant leaving what he loved behind then so be it. Randy could be satisfied with watching Punk be happy from the side lines. Punk would get over him, everyone always forgot about Randy. Punk would find happiness without him. Randy would make sure of it.

With his heart aching, Randy got into his room and fell on the bed, fully clothed, Punks come still on his stomach. Randy didn't want to wash it off yet. It was the only evidence he had left that he had once had Punk to himself. Randy fell asleep just like that, dreaming of a world where Punk was his forever.

4 months later Punk sat in the locker room, wrapping his wrists and sighing. This was it. This was his last RAW. Over the past couple of months Punk couldn't stand Randy being in the locker room with him, laughing, and even dating a diva for a couple of weeks, waving it in Punks face everywhere. It was to much. Punk still loved Randy and the only way he was going to be happy was to leave WWE and move onto other things. Perhaps he could go back to ROH, or accept a contract from TNA, lord knows they had been trying to get Punk forever.

Vince walked in the locker room, they were the only ones, everyone had gone to see Randy and John Cena's match.

"Well, son, are you ready?" Vince asked, looking sad.

"Yeah." Punk said, no trace of emotion in his voice.

"Listen, I don't know what happened to you a few months ago, but whatever it was it must have been bad and it must have involved love. I won't ask because I know you won't tell. All I will say is that you are one of the most talented son of a bitches I have ever worked with and I've never been so sad to see a wrestler leave, especially in his prime. Maybe one day you can come back to us. And if that day comes you just give me a call and I will say yes, no questions asked. We will all miss you kid." Vince hugged Punk, and Punk hugged back. Many people may have thought Vince was cruel, but he treated each wrestler with the respect they needed, and always made sure they had what they needed in the world. Whether it be money, shelter, or just plain help. Vince would let someone live under his own roof if it meant helping one of his guys out.

"Thanks, Vince. That means a lot to me. I really don't want to leave, but I have a few things that I need to take care of before I can think about coming back here." Punk said.

"Say no more. I understand. Your music is up in ten minutes. Try not to break to many hearts out there." Then Vince left.

Punk sighed and made his way to gorilla. He didn't stretch, he didn't jump up and down to get himself pumped, he didn't even bring his music. He just stood there with his eyes closed, remembering his favorite matches, the first time he ever walked out on RAW, his famous pipe bombs, and his first match with Randy. It all flooded to him and he had to keep himself from letting tears out. No one could see him in distress. No one but Punk, Vince, Triple H, and Stephanie knew about him leaving, and Punk wanted to keep it that way for right now. Because in about two minutes the whole world would know, and he never had to come here again. He never had to see Randy again.

Randy walked through the hallway after his match with Cena. He loved wrestling John, his friend always knew how to get the crowd pumped.

"I know H, but he insists on tonight being his last night." Randy heard Vince's voice.

"But now? In the prime of his career he's just going to up and leave? Not even announce it after a match, but in a pipe bomb at the end of the damn show?" Triple H sounded angry.

"We've all seen the kid these past few months. He's gone completely down hill. Sure his matches are great but he's becoming more reckless, getting hurt more often and caring less. He's depressed and wont talk to anyone, not even when I tried for the therapists to come in on company dime to see him." Vince argued.

Randy wanted to know who they were talking about. He knew they were ending the show with some sort of promo, but they never released what it was.

"CM Punk is going to end up running himself to the ground if he doesn't leave now." Vince said.

"But he is going to ruin his career. No wrestling company is going to sign someone who broke contract no matter how good they are."

Randy didn't have time to listen to the rest of the conversation. After he heard Punk's name he became numb. Punk was leaving? Because of him? No, this wasn't right. Randy had left Punk so that he could continue to flourish in the company, not leave at the height of his career. Randy backed away and started walking down the hallway again. He needed to find Punk and stop this. Nut it was to late, Punk's music sounded through the entire arena and the crowd went wild. This was not happening. Randy broke into a sprint, trying to come up with some way to stop this.

Hopefully he would be able to stop this.

Punk heard his music and took a deep breath. This was it. He walked out in his usual get up; trunks, a t-shirt, and his ring boots. His hands were taped and he carried a mike. This was really it.

Punk looked at the crowd, saw there smiles and excitement at his entrance and felt a stab of guilt. This was selfish. Punk had thought of only himself in this retirement plan, but not his fans, who loved him. But he couldn't pretend to like being here anymore. Walking his way to the ring instead of running, Punk could see the confusion on his fans faces. They knew something was wrong. Once in the ring Punk stood there, enjoying the yells of his fans, the chants and cheers, and he almost broke down.

Lifting the mike, he spoke. "You guys make this the best job in the world. And I wish I could give you everything, but for now I cant." The cheers slowed, the chants stopped, and people waited. "For the last few months, I've been thinking. I have given my life, my heart, and my soul to this. To being the best in the world, but I can't do it anymore." There was a sudden gasp. "I have not been on my A game, and therefore I have not been worthy of your praise. Every day I have been here, every night I have had a match, and every time my music has come up and you cheered I have tried to devote myself to pleasing you. I don't regret a single day of being up here. But I'm afraid it's time for me to-" Punk didn't get to finish his sentence as Randy Orton's music came up.

Punk turned just in time to see that Randy was already down the ramp and the ring, climbing in. People both cheered and looked on in confusion. Randy must have ran out unannounced and they just started his music not knowing what was going on.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Punk asked between clenched teeth, holding the mike at his side.

"I cant let you do this." With that Randy grabbed Punk by the neck and pulled him in for the best Kiss Punk had ever experienced. After the shock of being kissed in front of their fans and the world wore off Punk melted, letting himself be sucked into the kiss. Randy pulled away first. "I love you Phillip Brooks and I will not let you leave what you love behind because I'm an idiot." Randy kissed Punk again and this time the smaller man responded immediately.

The crowd was very quiet for a few moments, then the unexpected happened. They erupted in perhaps the most excited cheer Punk and Randy had ever heard. People were cheering their names together and clapping. Looking around the two men realized they had received a standing ovation from the entire arena. Laughing at the situation Punk gave Randy a peck on the lips.

"I guess I cant leave now."

"Not if I have a say in it." Randy said.

They exited the ring, cheers following them, and walked down the ramp hand in hand. Damn the consequences of their actions, this was the best day of Punk's life and if anyone tried to fuck it up then there would be hell to pay. They would just deal with the bosses later.