TITLE: 'the third time that week' or 'make me forget'
AUTHOR: Pepperrrr
RATING: T for sexual references, swearing, manlove, the usual
PAIRINGS: Randy Orton & CM Punk
WARNINGS: Nightmares, insomnia, kissing, manlove, angst, drama, mushy wandal again, sleepy people, sad stuff i think, a wild mushy punkers appears, vulnerable!punk, other shit
P.O.V: Third person.
DATE WRITTEN: April 18th 2012 1:37-1:43 and 2:36-3:22 pm
SUMMARY: Tearing. Ripping. Hurting. Gasping. Crying. Drowning.. You name it, Punk has dreamt it. He never wanted to of course. His mind had different plans for him when he finally was able to sleep though. At least he had Randy to protect him from the things that put the dark rings under his eyes and kept him from sleeping.
AUTHOR NOTES: SO. This is based on the either headcanon or canon about Punkers and his nightmares and such. I have a history of nightmares and shit and i love angst, so this happened. Yeahhh. The summary isn't anything from the story, but it has to do with it, and i liked the way i wrote it so there it is lmao hee~~
He called Randy for the third time that week. He had, again, woken from a horrible horrible nightmare. He usually did anyway, but more so when he was without his venomous lover. For some reason, that terror of a man was always able to keep his own terrors away. Only a few small ones passed by the gate Randy could keep on his sleeping mind. Ones that he would wake up slowly from, and forget about while he drank his morning coffee.
"Randall.." His voice trembled and he wanted to smack himself for it. He heard a groan from the other end
(a tired one, phil, he's not mad at you)
(he never seems to be when it comes to this)
of the line.
"Punk." Randy greeted, voice thick and scratched from sleep. Punk bit at his lip ring and pulled it into his mouth, then let go before speaking.
"I need you. Where-" He was cut off my his breath hitching as his throat begged for air. He kept forgetting to breathe since he woke up.
"What room are you in..?" The self proclaimed 'voice of the voiceless' asked in somewhat of a helpless voice of his own.
"I'm in room 206. I'm four or five doors down from you, remember?" Randy answered, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I'll be outside of my door." He said, and Punk hummed in response before hanging up.
He walked out of his room and walked through the corridor
(in his boxers, one of his signature shirts, and a blanket he dragged from his bed because he couldn't find his fucking hoodie)
to get to Orton, who was standing outside his door
(boxers, white t shirt, and a look on his face that gave no shits)
cool as his eye colour. Punk walked a little faster to Randy, who turned his head and looked at how
(fucking cute)
he looked, and grinned. Punk furrowed his brows.
"Fuck you Randall."
"Hey, that's no way to talk to someone who deals with you all the time without complaint."
"Spoke too soon again, Viper."
Punk stuck his tongue out at him, and Randy pulled him close with one arm, and using the other, he opened the door. Punk nuzzled his head into Orton's collarbone, sighing as he took in his comfortng scent. His hands found his back, and he slid his hands underneath the shirt to press his palms into warm, tan skin. Randy closed the door and kissed the top of Punk's head, realizing that he had let Punk worm his way into his heart again. They made their way blindily to the bed, and Punk pushed forward, sending Randy hard onto the bed,
(umph!)
his arms never leaving their place wrapped around his middle.
Randy grumbled something like "grumbdamnbleit punkgrumble" and Punk smiled into Randy's throat, laughing softly. He had almost forgotten what sent him to Randy's tattooed arms in the first place. When he thought that, his smile faded and his fingers curled against Randy's back, his nails dragging over the skin
(gasp)
softly as the images that tortured him minutes before this resurfaced behind his eyelids.
"Punk?"
Randy questioned. Punk had gone rather rigid all of a sudden, and it actually worried him. He didn't do anything except turn his face further into Randy's throat. "Breathe, Punk." The Viper sighed, his arms winding around the smaller body on top of his own, his hands rubbing his back as it rose shakily under his palms. Punk exhaled harshly, pushing himself against Randy's body, his arms tightening their hold.
"Make me forget.." He breathed, kissing the spot below and behind Randy's ear.
(another gasp)
Randy's stomach jolted at the words and the way they sounded coming from Punk's lips, and he rolled them over so Punk's back was against the mattress, and Randy was over him. The straight edge
(vixen)
saint licked his lips and stared into Randy's bluegrey eyes. And then he raised his arms, winding them around Randy's neck to pull him closer. Randy bent his head and kissed at Punk's neck, tender and loving. "I want you to make me forget everything before I saw you in the hall. I only want to feel you and remember you right now.." Punk was sighing, his heart melted and the filter between his mind and mouth crushed under the love he had developed for Randy. Orton raised himself up to look into Punk's dark eyes
(dark when upset or lusting
bright green when happy or excited
hazel when neutral or being a bitch)
then bent down to kiss his favourite lips
(that wanted to form the words 'i love you' over and over)
in a firm, passionate kiss.
And soon Punk had almost forgotten what sent him to Randy's room in the first place.