"You mind telling me what that was all about?" John said, completely confused.
"I think we should take some time apart before Hell in a Cell to get ourselves in the right headspace."
"Well I don't agree. Taking time apart will only make me miserable not more aggressive."
"I'm sorry you don't agree but it's what I need."
"Can I at least call you?"
"No. I don't think that would be very wise either."
"Please, please, Phil, don't do this to me."
"I'm going to be just as miserable as you, but at least it'll give me a negative emotion to thrive on. I felt like I had a split personality out there, torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to kick your ass. I can't be that conflicted when I walk into that cell."
"If you're sure that's what you need to perform at your peak then there's nothing more for me to really say to you," John said this while grabbing Punk's arm, dragging him down a deserted hallway. He found a door and opened it. It was a supply closet. "If we're going to be separated for a week you at least owe me a memory that I can relive during all those days and nights we'll be apart.
John divested himself of his jorts and boxers, and then pulling Punk's trunks down his legs until all Punk had on was his kick pads and boots. John looked around the closet but it was so small that it didn't have a table or any space to lie down in.
"Phil, jump up and wrap your legs around me."
Punk looked like he was conflicted between wanting to do what John said and wanting to walk away, putting the distance between them that he had requested a few minutes before. Punk was sucking his lip ring into his mouth, obviously trying to figure out what the best course of action would be. His need for John won out and he jumped up, wrapping his legs around John's waist, fusing his mouth to John's, kissing him like it was going to be the last time he ever did so. John turned around, slamming Punk's back against the door, letting it support some of Punk's weight so he could free his hands to lay them on any place on Punk's body that he could reach.
John caressed Punk's arms from wrist to shoulder, lifting them up so they were stretched over Punk's head against the door.
"You think you can live for a week without me by your side? I'm going to prove to you right now that you can't. Touch me and I'll drop you on your ass and leave you in this room to deal with this on your own," John said heatedly as he slid his hands down Punk's chest, wrapping his hand around Punk's cock trapped between their stomachs, stroking him so hard Punk's eyes closed, and then nodded vigorously, his had banging against the door with every movement of his head.
John took his hand off Punk's cock, Punk whimpering with hitched breaths. John moved his hands lover, wrapping them around the skin above Punk's knee pads, squeezing them roughly before stroking them up Punk's thighs, the movement of his hands ceasing when they met the crease between Punk's thighs and his ass.
"I'm going to dream about these wrapped around me every night we're apart."
John's hands continued upward until he had his hands full of Punk's ass, he gripped him firmly, his nails sinking into the skin until he was sure he was drawing blood. He was going to leave Punk so covered in his marks so that every time Punk looked in the mirror he would know who he belonged to.
John slid his lips down Punk's neck, stopping at the point where neck met shoulder and bit down hard. Punk moaned loudly and John heard Punk's head make contact with the door again. He started sucking fiercely, desperate to get as much blood to the surface as possible. He lifted his head, eager to see his handiwork. Punk had a massive hickey on his neck that was swiftly turning purple. Punk would be lucky if that faded away before Hell in a Cell.
John kissed Punk feverishly, desperate to store Punk's taste in his memory. John's hands moved to frame Punk's face, holding his heady steady as he devoured Punk's mouth. They kissed manically for a few minutes before John released Punk's head, moving his hands back down to Punk's thighs and hitching him higher up his body.
He moved his hand down to his cock, guiding it to Punk's hole and barely breaching him. He stayed still for a moment, the anticipation driving him practically insane. He was going to take Punk without lube or any sort of preparation; he wanted Punk to ache for days.
"John, please move, please…"
"I can't believe that you think you're in any position to ask anything of me."
John guided Punk's body lower, his cock penetrating Punk slowly until he was fully sheathed.
"God, Phil, you're so tight and warm, how can you possibly expect me to stay away."
John let his frustration with the entire situation direct his movements, pounding into Punk furiously
"John…" Punk was moaning John's name with every thrust. John buried himself to the hilt and stopped abruptly.
"No, No, John please keeping moving, please."
John slid his hands up Punk's arms, still hovering against the door. He clasped their fingers together, holding each other's hands for a few moments. John's head lowered to Punk's neck, breathing in his scent. John moved Punk's hands down, directing them to wrap around his body.
"I wanted to punish you but I'm only punishing myself. If I don't get to feel your hands all over me I'm going to die. Phil, I need you to touch me."
Punk took John's direction and his hands were running over any length of John's skin he could reach.
"Fuck me, please, John, I need you to fuck me."
John resumed his desperate pace, reaching down to wrap his hand around Punk's cock, jerking him in tandem with his thrusts. John felt his balls start to tighten, it was impossible to hold off his orgasm with the frenetic pace he had set.
"John, I'm so close…"
John resisted his orgasm until he felt Punk's walls tighten around him and his come splash against his stomach. He thrust a few more times, coming deep inside Punk. He stayed buried in Punk ass, not wanting to separate. John eventually pulled out, spreading Punk's thighs wider until they lost purchase against his body and his feet finally met the floor. John pressed his body against Punk, pinning him to the door. John had a feeling that his weight was the only thing keeping Punk on his feet.
John kissed Punk languidly now that the hysteria created by Punk's insistence on a temporary separation had passed. Their lips finally separated but John didn't move his head, content to just stare into Punk's eyes. Punk eventually broke the gaze and moved to step around John and picked up his trunks from the floor, pulling them back on.
John found a rag and cleaned off his stomach and then redressed himself.
They walked back to their locker room, their luggage the only bags left in the locker room.
"I'm going to take a quick shower and try to catch the red eye back to Chicago tonight," Punk said stepping close to John and kissing him chastely. "See you soon, I love you."
"If I didn't love you so much I'd strangle you right now."
"See, you're getting into the proper mindset already."
John pulled on a shirt and packed up his bag. Punk had sat down, taking off his kick pads and his boots. John just looked at Punk longingly for a few moments, then opened the door and let it close behind him.
October 2, 2011
Hell in a Cell
Punk was right about the separation putting him in the right headspace. He was so fucking miserable right now that he pitied the person who got in his way. John walked to his assigned locker room and instantly looked around for Punk. He found him at a locker with Evan and Morrison on either side of him. Punk didn't even look up.
John dressed silently and watched as Punk walked toward the door of the locker room and as much as John willed Punk to look his way, he kept walking, the door closing behind him.
After John finished dressing he went to the monitor bay. Punk was seated in the back with Melina next to him. John took a seat away from the rest of the roster, hoping he was emitting a signal that warned everyone to stay away from him. He felt someone sit next to him and he lifted his head to tear that person a new one. It was Randy. Randy was fucked up in the head enough to withstand any cruel comments thrown his way.
"I see you and Punk aren't attached at the hip as usual. You two break up or something."
"It feels that way, but no, Punk wanted some distance before our Hell in a Cell match."
"That boy is smarter than I gave him credit for."
"You agree with his behavior?"
"I do. I can't imagine dating someone in the business much less someone who I'd have to meet in the ring periodically. You both need to be focused on the title, not on each other."
"Right now all I'm focused on is tearing someone, anyone, limb from limb."
"Which is exactly what you should be feeling before a Championship match, especially one that is being held in the cell."
"Randy, no offense, but could you just stop talking and sit there quietly."
Randy didn't utter another syllable.
They watched the show in silence, even as Miz and Truth showed up at ringside with tickets. Laurinaitis had them escorted out of the building by security.