Warnings: 2nd person Colt PoV Slash, Smut, Profanity, First time. (7 Sins Continuity)
"I'm hungry, feed me." Is the first thing he says once you step out into the cold air after the show. He wraps one of his arms around your shoulders as you walk, trying to inspire you into feeding him.
"Feed yourself." You let his arm stay where it is and keep walking with him, he's warmer than the miserably cold air. "Where is there to eat around here anyways?"
"Hell if I know. We'll look." He takes his arm from your shoulders and stuffs his hands in his pockets. You end up in a twenty-four hour diner about thirty minutes from where you wrestled, a ridiculous stack of pancakes between you, one side swimming in syrup, your side getting soaked via osmosis and a pot of coffee. The server seemingly immune to Punkers' charms, the price exactly what it said on the menu and not the usual discount he manages to talk women into giving him. The diner is deserted, there is only you, him, some homeless looking people in one corner and the server, standing near them watching them warily.
"If you start bitching about being fat, I am smacking you." You tell him as he shovels more pancakes into his mouth. You've honestly heard enough of his ramblings about his weight, he's too small, he's too big, you're certain you've dated women who bitch about their weight less than he does. He looks at you mildly offended and swallows.
"You saying I'm a fatass?" You kick him under the table; he rubs his ankle and scowls at you.
"You've got a pretty ass, Punkers." You shrug and he does, it's all little, firm and tight.
"Manly." He kicks you, scowling again. "It's a fine manly ass. I am not pretty."
"I didn't say you were pretty, though! Your ass is pretty, you're scruffy" He kicks you again.
"I'm manly, ruggedly handsome, oozing masculine charm, not pretty." A third little kick to your shin has you drawing your leg up rubbing at what you're sure will bruise.
"Oozing something, you scruffy asshole." You mutter and he kicks your other leg with a smirk.
"If my ass is so pretty, why-" You kick him knowing where this conversation is going. He was going to ask why you won't fuck him; you know he wants you to. You've been fooling around, a horrid phrase but by far the closest fit for what you've been up to together, for a few weeks now each time you've fooled around, he's been subtly and not so subtly, offering you his ass and you've distracted him with your hand around his cock. It's not that you aren't interested, it's just, well it's a whole bunch of things and none of them are particularly easily explained.
"Not here, Punkers." You hiss at him, this isn't a subject for public discussion. He rolls his eyes and makes a sweeping gesture with his fork.
"No-one in this shithole gives a fuck, Cabana." Whilst you're pretty sure that's true, you don't want to find out that one of the homeless people is actually a massive Indy mark. "So why not?" Damn his tenacity, can't he just let things go for a change.
"In public? Really? But I'm a gentleman, Punkers." You try to sound affronted and scandalised; you think you fail when he grins at you.
"Answer me or I kick you properly." You hear his foot thud against the leg of his chair a few times, a warning that the kicks you've received so far were playful little taps, if he decides to kick you properly, you'll be limping out of here.
"Why not?" You sigh and set your fork down. "There's plenty of reasons why."
"And they are?" Your best friend is far too fixated on getting what he wants far too often.
"I'm not gay." You pick the weakest argument you have first; you have others once he picks this one apart.
"Jerking me off, that's hetro-normative?" He asks you, one of his eyebrows raised. "Because as I recall and my memory is fuzzy but you started this."
"Fine, you're not gay."
"Still want you to f- Oww!" You kicked him again. "Fine, no using the f-word in public, asshole. Anyway! Sexuality aside, I enjoy what we do, you enjoy it?" You nod and look away from him, towards the other people in the diner, they seem to be so engrossed in their own lives, so incredibly uninterested in the awkward as hell conversation you're being forced through.
"It'd be taking things too far." You mutter and he scoffs.
"Really? Starting it was taking things too far, Colt." You glance at him and he's wearing an odd smile you've not seen before. "You started it and I kept it going. You wanna stop?"
"No!" You realise you spoke a little too loudly when the server looks over at you. "The last bit of pancake is mine!" You grab your fork and attempt to make your lie look believable; he stabs the last bite and eats it.
"Too bad, Cabana, mine now." The server turns from you both. "So you're invested in continuing this but not progressing, why?"
"Damn it, Punk, let it go." You snap and drink your coffee; it's getting cold.
"I just want to know, I mean, I was sure you'd jump at the chance." His eyebrow rises again and he rests his chin in his palm, bats his eyelids at you. "My ass is so pretty after all." You sigh and scrub your face.
"Why?"
"I believe that was my question." His voice unimpressed.
"Why do you want me to, you know so much?" He looks genuinely confused.
"Why?" He sighs. "Because I want to know what it feels like, because I trust you, because you'll like it." He frowns as you look at him; you know you don't look impressed. "So why not?"
"What do you get out of? You won't enjoy it, won't like it." He laughs and pulls you to your feet and tugs you out of the diner.
"That's it? Come on, we're going back to the hotel."
The trip back to the hotel is infuriatingly quick, before you've really had time to process what's going on you're being pushed against the room door and kissed thoroughly, your hands reflexively tangle in his hair and you try to slow the kiss down. You definitely enjoy kissing your best friend so much more than you should. He breaks the kiss and starts getting undressed.
"You really think I won't like it?" He asks you once he's naked; he wraps his arms around your neck and kisses you again, your hands run down his back from his shoulder blades to his ass, which you squeeze gently. It is a very pretty ass and you really can't see him liking being fucked in it at all.
"I don't see how you could, Punk." He laughs softly and steps away from you, grabbing a little bottle from his bag and sits on the bed, his back against the headboard, feet planted wide, his limp cock resting between his thighs. He opens the little bottle, lube your brain helpfully provides, coats one of his fingers and slowly slides it down to press against his asshole. "What are you doing?" You ask him feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
"Object lesson, Cabana. Sit down." You watch him carefully as you perch on the end of the bed, the tip of his finger slides inside of him, your cock gives a twitch and he makes an odd little noise. Slowly he moves it further inside of himself, sliding it in and out several times. You'll concede the visual is incredible but his cock is still limp and he doesn't sound like he's enjoying it, he's been utterly silent the whole time you've been watching him. He pulls his finger from himself, leaving his hole glistening with a little lube and opens the bottle again, coating two fingers this time. He eases one inside and then quickly adds the second, moving them both in and out. His breathing is getting a little faster, you shift your gaze from the sight of those two long fingers inside of him to look at his face, his eyes are half-lidded staring at you, you hold his gaze and he suddenly arches his back. "Ah, fuck."
"What?" It didn't sound like a fuck of pain, it sounded incredible, all soft and drawn out. He shakes his head and does whatever it was he just did again, making him raise his hips trying to drive his fingers deeper into himself. "What is it, Punkers?" You ask him, moving a little closer, sitting between his spread legs. His cock is beginning to harden, slowly, far more slowly than if you were stroking or rutting against him but something is definitely getting him turned on. You watch his fingers, thrusting in and out of him, when they're inside of his body he seems to be wriggling them and that action makes his back arch, makes him give that soft panted noise the fuck has become. He takes both fingers from his body and smiles at you.
"Prostate." He pants softly, his cock is maybe half-hard and you're calling bullshit, the doctor stuck his finger up your ass to check that once, it sure as hell didn't make you want to throw a boner. He coats three fingers this time and slides them inside of himself, one after another, spreading them, stretching himself open and your cock is far too interested in this now. His body looks so incredibly tight and yet yielding in the most pleasurable of ways. You take the lube from where he's left the bottle and coat your palm, stroking his cock, almost entirely hard, to full erection and keep going, he's rocking down against his fingers as they open him up, making possibly the most beautiful noises you've ever heard. He's far closer to coming than you would have expected from the few strokes that you've given his cock. "Stop, stop. Don't wanna come without you in me." He moans and you take your hand from him.
"Who says I'm gonna fuck you, Punkers?" You aren't sure who you're trying to persuade, him or yourself, you so very close to opening your pants and pounding him. He takes his fingers from inside of himself, leaving his hole pouting open just a little, your cock throbs, the sight of his body is begging to be taken and your cock is more than willing to do the taking. He fumbles with the lid of the lube; he grabs your hand and coats three of your fingers.
"Feel me, go on." He guides your hand down to his hole and you hesitate. "Please." You nervously ease one finger into him, the heat, the tightness; the silky soft smoothness is indescribable. He gives a long moan of yes, his body arching into your finger. "More." You slide the second finger inside of him. "Move." His voice is little more than a soft, demanding, pant. You move your fingers back and forth carefully, he feels so delicate inside, like nothing you've ever felt before, even the women you taken like this didn't feel like he does. No woman ever looked the way he does, so close from just fingers and hands. You try to mimic what he was doing, you feel something inside of him and as you press against it he gasps, his cock twitching against his belly.
"Feels good?" You ask him, a hint of smugness in your voice.
"Told you. Fuck me." You stare down at him and get caught by the sight of your fingers inside of him, you press against what you suppose is his prostate again and he moans softly. "Fuck me." You give up, you can't resist this, it makes him feel good, your only real concern has been addressed. You're certain you've never stripped faster in your life, you coat your erection in lube and line up with his little, slightly open hole.
"You sure?" You ask him softly, he nods and wraps his legs around your waist. "You say stop and I stop, okay?" Another nod but that's not enough, you want to hear him confirm that if he doesn't like it, he'll tell you. This might be his idea but he can still back out if he wants to.
"Got it, I say stop, you stop. Now go!" He bucks his hips and forces the head of your cock into him, his head falls back against the pillows. "Fuck, you're bigger than I thought." You smirk down at him and he scowls up at you. "Come on, fucker, get on with it."
"So romantic, Punkers." You mutter as you slowly ease more of yourself into him. His body is so tight; he's easily the tightest person you've ever been in.
"You didn't, fuck, even want to fuck me ten minutes ago. Ah, fuck, more. And now you're bitching I'm not fuck fucking romantic enough." Your gentle thrusts inside of him making his speech more littered with profanity than usual but you resolve to render him incapable to sentences, if you're going to fuck him; you're going to do it properly. You rock into him gently, withdrawing a little and easing further in with each thrust, he's moans softly with each movement you make, once you feel his ass against your balls you still, your forehead against his shoulder.
"Okay?" You ask him softly, his breath is quick, you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you.
"Fuck, move, move." His legs squeeze you and you rise up, supporting your weight on your forearms hovering over him to brush a kiss over his brow. He makes a soft noise and squeezes you again.
"Stroke yourself?" You need to see this, you know you're going to enjoy fucking him; you're already enjoying the soft rippling contractions of his ridiculously tight body adjusting to you, actually fucking him is going to be unbelievable so you need to see him enjoying it too. He nods and takes hold of his cock, slowly jacking himself. You pull back slowly till only the head of your cock is inside him and then press back into him, keeping the pace slow, you don't want to hurt him. His hand strokes his cock at the same slow pace. You keep this slow pace up for far longer than your body wants to, until he's squirming beneath you, his hand moving quicker than you are. "You okay?" You ask him, brushing another kiss over his brow, sweat beginning to form there.
"Faster, fuck move faster." His voice a soft little moan. You speed up, trying hard to match his strokes to his cock, smirking when he presses his head back against the pillows, exposing his neck to you. You lick and kiss at it, feel his moans vibrating in his throat through your lips and tongue. You know when you finally manage to strike his prostate when his body arches into yours and he groans. You try to keep this angle but it's difficult, you suppose with time you'll get better at this. You weren't perfect in the ring with each other for months, it should come as no surprise that this too would require practice to perfect. "Fuck, I'm close." He gasps after a while, you nod, you can tell he's close, you've made him come plenty of times now, felt his body trembling in your arms as he comes, you know his signs. This, however, will be the first time you've felt him come whilst being inside of him, his back arches, his eyes close, his imperceptible moans, coming should not be beautiful, it should be a man at his worst but for Punkers, he is at his most beautiful lost in the throes of orgasm. His already tight body clamps down around you and as he trembles, his ass almost flutters around you, trying to pull you deeper and expel you all at once. Once his body stills, you start to thrust into him once more, fucking him as hard and as fast as you dare, several steps below what you'd like but several more than you think he should be getting. You come with your face pressed to where his neck and shoulder meet, his hands running soothingly over your shoulders.
"You okay?" You ask him softly, as you pull out of his body and move to lie beside him, trying to catch your breath; he squirms over to you and flops his head onto your chest.
"M'tired and sticky." He mutters and you smile stroking his hair, it's damp with sweat. "Feel gross."
"I'm not fucking you again if all you do is whine after." You kiss his damp hair and he squirms off you.
"I do not whine." Well at least accusing him of it has stopped him from whining. "Shower?" He's standing on surprisingly wobbly legs; you get up and plaster yourself to his back.
"Round two? Combine cleaning with practice?" You ask him, nipping soft kisses along the back of his neck.
"Practice?" He shivers slightly in your arms as you kiss behind his left ear and step away from him, move towards the bathroom.
"You're coherent enough to whine, I need practice."
A/N on the title: Paying your dues is what you do out on the Indys, get better at being in the ring by well being in the ring, going out and wrestling anywhere and everywhere... It always amuses me to apply wrestling terms to fanfiction and this is the start of the 7 Sins Punk and Colt paying their other dues.
Random smut inspired by the provider of more inspirational .gifs than I should recieve, littleone1389