First of all I should probably add that I've originally written this story in German. Then, a couple of days ago, I've translated it. So, if you have any suggestions based on better grammar or shorter sentences (always a mess when you translate from GER to ENG!), feel free to let me know. But now: have fun (hopefully):

A small milky drop clung greedily to his warm skin, and yet it couldn't overcome gravity, contributed unceasingly to where it had to leave the living body and would be flushed a little later in a filthy sewer. At least it would still enjoy these last few seconds. It was only a tiny spark of hope and yet it was disappointed when Punk distributed some more shower gel with the left hand on his chest. Otherwise he continued standing almost motionless under the shower, his eyes closed enjoying the pleasant feeling of the hot water bubbling to his head. After dark match on RAW, he was briefly left alone in the ring to thank the audience and to wish everyone a healthy way home as it was almost became a tradition. Maybe it went with reckoning, because now Punk had the shower on his own and for his thoughts.

Today, however, there was not a lot to think about that had taken root to his mind and wanted to be thought of. Except, perhaps, that he was just given a few minutes ring time again in the 12-Man Tag Team Match. After all, he had been allowed to play the winner, but this was after the match entered into a street fight in which he had to be careful, so that no-one would accidentally once again broke his nose or something really bad. But there were also some positive moments that Punk now recalled, such as the slapstick with Dean, though it was rather gone out of him than of the two of them, as Punk had to admit to himself. Dean had smelled the opportunity and used it in a flash – as it should be. Behind the scenes Punk had regarded this little scene again because he hadn't it really consciously experiencing at the very moment. He'd merely reacted instinctively to the touch. And even now he once again thought about it without really knowing exactly why that was. Anyway, it was not only the blind understanding between Dean and himself, for that they worked well together in the ring. Punk was certain about that long before that night. This chemistry is just there or it isn't. In between there are few other options. But something else was still there. Something else Punk had felt at that moment. But this moment was so brief and fleeting that he just couldn't remember it.

At any point his body didn't demand any more shower gel, only for hot, steamy water that was now raining down just over Punk's skin. With both hands he leaned forward to the tiles. He had his head down, eyes closed. After a fight like this that went just fine he'd somehow turn off the brain and enjoy this warm rain that simply felt great on his body. But suddenly Punk felt something else than the water drops. It was on his back and slid irregular and slightly over his shoulder. At first he wasn't sure if he felt anything at all, but then the touches suddenly felt more intense, clear. And then all of a sudden Punk was back in the here and now again, as he realized that it could only be a hand that wasn't his own, stroking over his skin. At the same moment he turned the shower off the water and his head to the back. And there his eyes looked right into the ones of Dean Ambrose.

"Man, if you have planned to scare me to death, then you've almost made it. What is it? Did Vince send you over here, because I consume too much water?" Punk tried to calm himself down with a few harsh words towards the other man. Because he was indeed really scared for a moment. At least that wasn't what he wanted to show to Dean. But this guy only grinned at him.

"I just wanted to be helpful," he said.

Nothing else. But he also didn't take that fucking grin off his face. Plus he put his head slightly to the side. 'Like a serial killer just before he slaughters his next victim,' Punk thought. In Dean's eyes the craziness has been always at home. And at that moment it was nothing that could soothe Punk in any way. On the contrary, he was standing naked in a shower room. And behind him there was this lunatic whose thoughts no-one could really ever interpreted. But it wasn't necessarily fear that had taken possession of Punk, because basically he liked Dean, because he was this little insane himself. Maybe not exactly insane, and Dean wasn't, too. The two of them were just two guys who have had a somewhat difficult start to life. No real good guidance on how it works and then just had to find their own way. If some people referred to it as crazy or insane, or even misguided, then it was it just like that. Punk had never really thought about it, because like his life was right now it actually was quite good. But to stand here with Dean right now – and he had just noticed that Dean was naked too – and not knowing what he had to expect from him, that was something he didn't like at all. Just because he wasn't in control of the situation. And he didn't know how to gain it back.

Dean again ran an index finger gently across his wet shoulder. Then his view followed his finger, and it was only then when Punk caught back his voice: "And how do you want to help me?" he asked. He wasn't really sure why he let Dean touching him like this. Usually he would have long been turned around, pushed Dean away from himself, most certainly yelling at him that he should leave him alone. But instead he just stood rooted to the spot, exactly observing Dean with a look over his shoulder. Somehow he hoped that he could anticipated every move of him and thus he could be ahead of his thoughts. So, whatever Dean was having in mind that wasn't to Punk's taste, he could instantly stop him doing it before it actually happened. Fortunately, Dean looked straight back into his eyes again, but now at the same time he put his entire hand on Punk's right shoulder. His thumb stroked his skin a bit when he finally replied.

"You always can't reach your back easily. But I can take over if you want." he whispered. And this time, Dean twisted his mouth into a smile that looked almost friendly, not like that grin with which he could easily play the Joker in Batman. And it certainly was that smile, that made Punk nod in agreement, although there were alarm bells ringing all over into his mind that unmistakably calling him to evade and escape from this situation. But instead, Punk stood still, even handed Dean his shower gel over his shoulder, and then turned the water back on. Shortly afterwards he felt Dean's hands back on his shoulder. At first it felt a bit rough without the support of shower gel. Dean just massaged him, but he obviously knew something about it, because Punk was almost enjoying it without actually wanting to admit it. Instinctively, he closed his eyes again, hung down his head, and letting the water flow upon his shoulders.

Eventually, briefly it went a little colder when Dean dripped a bit of shower gel to his skin, but the warmth of the water and of Dean's hands left this impression to almost seem unreal. Slowly, his hands now slid down Punk's back, first of all along his spine, but stopped far above the danger zone. Dean's movements were so slow that Punk almost stopped breathing. But he was relieved and just got back some oxygen to his lungs when Dean once again devoted himself to the upper part of his back. And once again a little more gel made its way to Punk's skin. And Dean this time, however, wasted no time with staying on his shoulder, but distributed the foam directly to Punk's lumbar region. Now he was even more stroking his skin and finally with one hand slipped down the remaining path of his spine. And to the danger zone he had just left out some moments ago, down to the coccyx.

Without any control of it or understanding how this could happen, a slight shiver went through Punk's body. Only with huge self control he could prevent himself from letting out a groan. Instead, he turned his head back to Dean again for him as sarcastically as possible to say, "Hey, if you want to go even deeper, perhaps we should think about a hotel room."

But Dean had felt that his touch had not missed out of having instant effect on Punk's skin. Accordingly, his reply to Punk was the following, "If you are more into hotel rooms, then we can do that." A forwarded self-conscious grin assured Punk that, in contrast to himself, Dean meant it seriously. And that was probably the moment, when Punk needed to define his borders and make it clear to Dean that he would definitely not cross it. So he finally turned to Dean completely. But unfortunately he probably didn't appear as a too serious figure, since the water now ran straight from above the forehead. Because of that Punk went just a little step forward, so he could talk to Dean without squinting or having to wipe his eyes permanently. However, with that move he only came even closer to him, now almost felt his breath on his face.

"Listen," Punk finally said to Dean, "I know that you are also on guys, but unfortunately, I'm not at all into it. So, thanks for the massage. It feels really good now, but that's all I can do for you really." Every other guy Punk would probably just have slapped or left standing without any comment, but Dean was different. He liked him – in and outside the ring, so he probably had chosen his words with care. But either Dean didn't understand them or he was so sure of himself and his qualities that he thought he could make the straight Punk go beyond his borders. His grin certainly hasn't disappeared from his face. And instead of leaving Punk alone, he went even closer to him, so that Punk almost panicked that their cocks could touch each other.

"Who said that you should do something for me?" was Dean giving him some hints to his real intents. His words corresponded with his body movements. And Punk for the first time now felt insecure in his presence. Because he couldn't clearly decide how to act right now: punching Dean and leaving the shower room as fast as possible, or kissing Dean. All the time he dodged backwards, the closer Dean came to him because he was too perplexed over his own thoughts, especially this second one and how the hell it might have made its way into his mind.

But at some point he couldn't retreat anymore, because his back was pushed against the cold tiling. One hand reached for the water regulator and turned off the hot stream. Where previously the noise and the steam could obscure the senses, now there were just sounds of breathing and unrealized thoughts of escape.

And while Punk was caught in an internal conflict, Dean seemed to enjoy this game. He had both hands placed besides Punk's shoulders against the tiles. And he hadn't lost sight of Punk since he had turned to him. Not because he was afraid of Punk could escape from him at any moment, but because he was so happy looking at him. Here and now, he could do exactly like that without somebody coming up with questionable conclusions. Because there wasn't somebody. Only the two of them – only CM Punk and Dean Ambrose – Phil and Jon.

Dean especially enjoyed this silent moment. But with time slowly ticking forward he wanted for Punk not to feel so out of place any more. Therefore, Dean turned his gaze from Punk's eyes towards the tattooed snake on his shoulder and softly traced the outlines with just two fingers.

"Do you think that could suit me, too? On you it just looks great anyway." After telling him compliments he sent a smile, and when Punk didn't respond, even another slightly devilish grin. Then he let his fingers wander down on Punk's body and let the rest of himself follow. And before Punk could react to that movement, because he simply didn't foresee what Dean had in mind, he had already taken Punk's penis into his mouth to suck him immediately. Dean's hands firmly held on Punk's hips, but that wasn't really necessary, at least not to keep Punk in this position.

Overwhelmed by his emotions and his sudden lust that shot through his body from one moment to the other, Punk had his head thrown back against the hard tiles and groaned loudly. His hands he had firmly clawed into Dean's hair, and despite still permanently thinking that he should finally pull away from him to leave the shower room, his body just did the opposite. He enjoyed it and didn't make it easy for Punk's mind to gain back control. Instead he forced him to equally enjoy it, so that Punk after a while even opened his eyes again and looked down to where his now hard dick kept disappearing into Dean's mouth. Punk's pelvis felt hot automatically. He wanted more now, not being that passive like he was, so he started actively fucking Dean's mouth. And the latter just seemed to have waited for this because his hands now wandered from Punk's hips to his buttocks to grasp his fingers hard into his flesh. For sure he would leave a few bloody traces there that would last for a couple of days. This way he pressed his head even closer to Punk's body and Punk himself clearly felt how his dick completely filled Dean's mouth with every thrust.

When Dean, however, still further increased the pressure, he also used his tongue from time to time to tease Punk's acorn. As a result Punk had to close his eyes again, because he could barely stand anymore. He somehow tried to pull Dean's head away from him, because the pleasure had left him speechless. Therefore he couldn't tell him that he would cum within seconds. But Dean still held him strongly in his arms and though refused to give him any chance to move away from him. And shortly thereafter Punk groaned hotly, followed by a quivering that ran through his whole body. And when he opened his eyes again and looked down, Dean had a bit of sperm running down his chin.

When their eyes met; when Punk's mind had begun to work again, he wanted to apologize that he couldn't make it clear to him in some way when he was about to cum, so he didn't have to take all of him. But that smirk on Dean's face assured him instantly that there was no need to apologize – at least not him to Dean.

Then both men stood against each other again – like before, when Dean had turned off the shower spray. Now, however, it was Punk who caressed Dean's face with two fingers, even if he only wanted to remove his own sperm from Dean's chin. And before he had time to think about why he did it, he took Dean's face in both hands and kissed him. It was a short but passionate kiss. And again Punk earned himself an almost diabolical grin from the opposite man. Like it seemed to be written all over Dean's features that he'd knew right from the start that Punk would enjoy it – every bit of it. He just didn't say it, but turned away from him instead, went to one of the opposite showers to now enjoy a bit of hot water on his own body.

Punk looked at him there for a while and weighed up into his mind if he should go over to him to wash his back to give something back to him. Perhaps Dean expected this. But then his mind came back on to tell him that he shouldn't even start to engage in that kind of thing. He finally turned his back to Dean and once again showered just briefly. Then he grabbed his towel, dried himself quickly, then tied the towel around his waist. As he reached for the door of the shower room, he heard his name again. He looked back at Dean, who wasn't even looking at him, but washed his hair right now. How the hell had he noticed that he was about to leave the shower room?

"If, at some point, you mean it seriously about the hotel room, I won't say no." Punk finally heard him saying, and he could almost feel Dean's smirk on his own skin. But this time the feeling he had about it, somehow was different than before.

finis.

Now I hope it wasn't too bad in pure language terms. Very looking forward to your comments given that's my very first (English) fanfiction I've shared with the public. Please don't hold back!