A/N: This chapter is coming so soon since I promised my girlfriend I would post a new chapter if I passed my behind-the-wheel test today. :) Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Wakko's minion: Glad you thought so. ;) And I'll try my best with all of them but, of course, this story is centered around Punk and John.

Lamentomori: Thank you!

Vindictive John Dark Fantasy: Thanks for that idea! I was trying to add someone else that's controlling with him (since I already had an idea as to how to bring him in) and that's perfect!

Angelmouse666: Thanks, and I don't.. at least not outside of RPGs. :c sorry.

On to the story! :]

[Text] Okay so that last message was bullshit. I just want to protect you, I see the company you're keeping and after last night's client..

Punk felt anger rise up inside him, not even bothering to read the rest and growling out as he began furiously typing away

[Text] Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure you chose the client for me.. and even if you didn't what we do is our own business so long as I'm not breaking rules. And don't go fucking telling me about the company I keep, Morrison has been the nicest fucking person I've met thus far.

He hit send, his stomach flipping once he'd realized he just cursed out his boss. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not a good way to start off the second week. Still, Punk knew he was right and he wouldn't waver. He glanced at their conversation one more time before suddenly knowing where he wanted to meet Morrison later. Punk started typing up his message, mind geared toward one thing: prove a point.

…

Morrison huffed as he got out of the hotel room, wiping stray hairs from his face before giving up altogether and tying up his messy hair. "This is why you're my least favorite.." he muttered as he walked away, willing his hard-on back down as he uncomfortably walked to his car.

Once safe inside with the doors locked, Morrison turned his phone back on and started shifting the car into gear but freezing when he heard the techno music blaring from his phone and about to curse Swagger out for calling him back but when he remembered about Punk he picked up the phone. He stared at the screen in disbelief for a while, glancing at his stereo and seeing it was only 9:30p.m. since this particular client only called him over for one thing; at least that came in handy tonight.

After a quick look at traffic, Morrison sent one back

[Text] That sounds great. Try to keep it professional though. ;)

[Text] Give me 45 and I'll be there. xoxo

The man's house. How fucking important was this conversation that Punk had mixed business with personal life so quickly?

He wasn't about to ponder it too much though, maybe he'd get to see inside the new guy's head a bit today like he'd been dying to since he saw him walk in the office. Morrison drove away from the third-rate hotel and went back to his place for a quick shower because he'd be dammed if he showed up at Punk's house with another's scent on him.

Punk looked at his most recent texts and smiled, glad he had some form of peace coming to him soon though he couldn't help but remember everything John messaged him about Morrison

[Text] It is your business, Phil but just trust me on this one. JoMo is bad news.. and I say that as his employer. He plays people, winds them up just to shoot them down to make sure he's at the top of the business.

[Text] Just please.. I think you're too good to fall into that.

He bit his lip, wondering just how much of John's accusations were true but no sooner had doubts started creeping into his head than he received one more text

[Text] I'm outside your apartment. Should I do the old-fashioned knock and wake up your neighbors or are you gonna open up for me?

Looks like the decision had been made. Punk couldn't help the easy grin that graced his face; making another split-second decision, he turned off his phone and tossed it on the couch before opening the door for Morrison. The man was wearing comfortable clothes and his hair was damp, clinging to the sides of his face in small waves and occasional curls.

"Sure, of course I'll come in." he sassed, walking past Punk as he tried to ignore the feeling of self-consciousness that welled up inside him when Punk looked him over that way –because, really, when did John Morrison get self-conscious?!

Punk stumbled over his words, letting the man in and closing the door behind them as he tilted his head at the brunette "You sure this isn't too weird for you? I mean I don't want us to get in trouble or anything.."

"So Phillip is afraid of the man.. huh, interesting. And here I was hoping you were just as rebellious as you looked." He shrugged his perfectly toned shoulders "..aw well. It's okay. But to answer your question, no we won't get in trouble since I was invited over and didn't follow you home or something."

Punk looked away to cover the blush on his cheeks but nodded "Fuck you. And okay… good to know."

"Anytime after the second date." He joked, sitting on the couch and stretching his long legs in front of him as he glanced back over at Punk, expecting him to get on with why he'd invited Morrison over.

Punk though was too preoccupied with what Morrison looked like right then. He cleared his throat when his gaze scanned over the younger man's body and finally met his deep brown orbs staring back at him. "Uh.. work.. question." He said, mostly to remind himself before sitting down on the opposite side of the couch "John. I just wanted to know how I could tell the difference between him thinking I'm incapable of handling this job and him actually looking out for me" he stated before he lost all resolve and ended up beating around the bush for hours. Olive eyes locked on chocolate-colored ones as he gauged Morrison's reaction.

Morrison furrowed his brows in thought but shrugged "Depends.. what did he say?" He waited patiently as Punk gathered his thoughts and the blond started spewing pretty much a week's worth of information at him, finally ending with the texts from earlier today where John was breaking regulation and basically prying into Punk's personal life. He huffed softly when the blond finally finished, shaking his head at him "He can't ask all that shit unless he sees a change in your behavior.. which he obviously hasn't since you haven't spoken to him. Punky, I think Cena's past professional at this point and is bordering obsession." He spoke bluntly, running his long fingers through his hair to push it out of his face then turning back to face Punk "Though I'm not really one to talk when it comes to obsession over you" he muttered.

Punk frowned at everything Morrison said, shaking his head "Why the fuck would he be obsessed with me. The guy just met me. And why is he asking all this shit?"

"You're kidding right?" When Punk looked at Morrison with a confused look, he knew the blond really was oblivious to all of the older man's advances and his special treatment. Morrison smacked his forehead and groaned out in frustration "Cena is fucking into you. Not that I blame him but the guy makes it clear as goddamn day and you are clueless." He shook his head in exasperation, hating that he'd just told Punk about the boss's obsession since many employees would jump on an opportunity like that to get ahead.

"What? He barely fucking knows me." Punk was still unwilling to believe the older man had any sort of obsession with him.

"Maybe that's why he's obsessed."

"That doesn't make any goddamn sense!"

Morrison huffed and shoved his hair out of his face again as he leaned closer to Punk "You puzzle him. He is a control freak and there is something in you that just won't give in to order and won't let itself be seen. John's curiosity is winning out and he wants in.." Morrison tapped the side of Punk's head "..that pretty blond head of yours. Capisce?"

"He's got a dumb way of showing it. Badmouthing my coworkers and questioning my fucking strength" he said through clenched teeth, suddenly having the urge to punch John is his face.

"…..Who exactly did he badmouth?" he wondered, having a sinking feeling he already knew who it was. Morrison pulled away from Punk, sitting upright as he looked into the man's eyes, seeing them ablaze with anger and a bit of hesitance. That gave him all the answer he needed. Morrison laughed humorlessly and got up, grabbing his keys "Fucking figures. I'll see myself out, I'm sure you don't want to deal with a 'fucked up, slutty, two-faced, untrustworthy fucker' like me."

Just as soon as the anger had come, it was suppressed at the look on Morrison's face. The bitterness and hurt in Morrison's voice made Punk stand up, looking at the brunette in the eyes "I never said I believed him. He just badmouthed you.. I don't know what the fuck to believe right now." he said helplessly, running a hand over his face.

Morrison sighed "How about you ask him to tell you how he got to his position in the company over Shawn or Christian who've been here longer?" He asked, shaking his head and walking to the door "I won't talk shit.. you believe whatever you want to believe. I just hope this doesn't mean you're gonna stop talking to me. It was nice having someone to talk to." He gave Punk a sad smile, the hurt in his eyes making something twist inside Punk's chest, and walked right out of Punk's apartment.

Punk stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. When he finally did move to open the door and look down the hall, he saw nothing but shitty-colored walls. He groaned out and stormed upstairs, turning on his music as loud as the speakers would allow, and doing the only thing that always left him completely lost to the world. He pulled out his sketchpad and started drawing new tattoo and logo designs, swirling and shading where necessary, getting lost in the artwork, and at least for that moment forgetting about everything around him.

Before he knew it, his legs were sore and hand cramping; pages and pages of the sketchpad filled with dark and brooding images that –sadly– resembled his emotions at that moment. He looked up, seeing it was already starting to get light out and cursing inwardly. Punk sighed and put his sketches away, suddenly wishing he was about to get ready for a day at the shop. He bit his lip, knowing that wasn't true and instead showering before heading downstairs to prepare some food.

Punk sat himself down on the couch with his pancakes and started scarfing down food like no other; he pointedly ignored his cellphone that was still shut off and on the couch, deciding he didn't want to deal with anything he didn't have to with right now.

His day was a jumble of self-loathing and anger which he dealt with by watching Walking Dead reruns, cleaning up the apartment, and touching up his hair color. By the time his appointment drew nearer, Punk had blond roots and bright red tips, his shoulder-width hair never looking more like his name. Hell, he'd even put on his nipple piercings for tonight's session. Granted he didn't know who it was but he was hoping for someone to get his goddamn mind off Cena and Morrison and this damn job or how much he wanted to strangle Cena for making him lose his only friend at work.

Eventually, he made it to the side of New York he'd spent a lot of time in when he still had his shop. The memories of helping graffiti artists sketch up the murals for multiple businesses then watching their progress day-by-day almost suffocated him. Punk felt nostalgia hit him stronger than ever, his body habitually walking the streets that led him to one of the best hotels in the district. He stopped right in front of it, looking up and sucking in a deep breath to steel his thoughts as he prepared for what he was sure would be the worst performance he'd ever give.

Once Punk made it up to the man's floor, he shuffled over to the door and knocked twice. Punk didn't know what he was expecting to see for a man whose name was Jeff Hardy but he was pleased to see a man around his size with nothing but low-hanging, black cargo pants on his lean body, the beautiful dragon painting the skin over his ribs on full display. Punk opened his mouth to say his name but was pulled into the room by the man, stumbling a little he stopped right in front of the bed, turning to face Jeff with a slight smile on his face.

"Clothes off."

Punk lifted a brow. Well fuck formalities. Who the hell needed them in this business, right? "Nice to meet you too." He joked as he unbuttoned his dress shirt and started sliding it off his body.

"I was told you have.. work done on you and let's just say I'm a bit of a kink for that kind of shit." The man drawled out.

Another foreign accent, something from the South from what Punk could tell. Usually it wasn't something he was into but Jeff made it work. Punk laughed and shook his head, shoving his shirt all the way off and ruffling his hair a bit afterwards, standing there awkwardly as Jeff stared at his body in awe. The man's hazel eyes scanning every inch of Punk's exposed body and admiring every swirl of ink on his tan skin. Punk bit his lip, sucking the lip ring into his mouth as he saw Jeff's gaze linger on his chest an extra second, probably noticing the rings. He fidgeted a little but that earned a soft slap from Jeff. Punk gasped a little and looked at the man, squinting warningly at him.

Jeff caught on to Punk's discomfort and smirked, tilting his head to the side "I had to admire for longer, after all.. I'm paying you." He teased, stepping forward and running his fingers over the clean artwork on Punk's chest, swirling around the man's nipples and tugging the small ring before whispering "I want to draw on you. Then I want you to gag me and fuck me right into the mattress."

Punk blinked. "What?" bluntness in these meetings was something he wasn't used to but once his mind processed the meaning of Jeff's request, he squirmed a bit. "Paint on me with what exactly?" he asked before seeing the shit eating smirk on Jeff's face and groaning out when the man pulled out brightly-colored jars of finger paints.

"It's edible." Jeff said suggestively, grin back on his face as he saw the shiver that ran through Punk's body. Truth was, he'd made these paints himself for occasions like tonight and god was that a great idea. Jeff watched hungrily as the younger man stripped down to his black boxers and laid on his back, looking up at Jeff with pleading eyes. It was rare. To find a man so sure of himself and used to being dominant –at least from what he read on his rap sheet– in a moment like this, needing to feel pleasure and willing to beg. Jeff smirked and grabbed the bright red paint to mimic one of the designs on Punk's chest onto his abdomen, right over the 'straight edge' words, accenting them with sharp and precise lines. "Something happen today, Punk?" he wondered as he traced over the design he'd just made with his favorite color, the deep purple dulling the bright red "You seem a little preoccupied."

Shit. Punk's thoughts scrambled, trying to find a way out of this. John told him to always be 100% invested in his client but the last two days took a toll on him. Just as he opened his mouth to give a half-assed response, Jeff's finger lightly rubbed over his bellybutton and down to the waistband of his boxers. Punk swallowed and tried again "I.. might be." He grunted at the feeling of Jeff's teasing fingers painting branches off the purple, vein-looking lines trailing up his chest and around his nipples. The feeling made Punk close his eyes as he cursed.

"So what is it?" Jeff asked, his slender fingers tweaking Punk's hardened nubs before he pulled his hand away to admire the work he'd done, loving how the bright colors permanently etched into Punk's skin clashed with the opaque paint he so easily brushed on. Yes, Punk was a very good canvass. Jeff's blond and blue hair was in his face, covering half of it as he peered at Punk from under his lashes, expecting the blond man to answer him.

"How much I miss my tattoo shop.." he blurted out, knowing he couldn't tell Jeff about his problems at work. Punk arched when he felt Jeff flick one of the rings on his nipples, groaning quietly and twisting under Jeff. "Fuck. I love drawing and.. creating something with.. with meaning, guess I just miss it." Jeff must've been pleased with that answer because no sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt the older man's warm tongue tracing the line leading from his boxers to his bellybutton. "Shit.." Punk reached down, emboldened by the man's actions, and fisted Jeff's messy hair. He moaned softly as his client dipped his tongue into Punk's bellybutton, sucking softly before following the trail to his abdomen.

"I love a man that can appreciate art.. the most goddamn sexy thing out there." Jeff drawled out, sucking softly on Punk's stomach before swallowing what he had in his mouth and continuing to trace the pattern he'd created until he'd reached Punk's nipples. Jeff delicately swirled his tongue around the pert nubs, licking up the paint before catching the nipple ring between his teeth and giving a sharp tug. The noise he drew out of Punk was downright sinful so Jeff grinned and slowly moved over to the other nipple, teasing this one with his warm tongue for a bit longer before tucking the metal ring between his lips and tugging hard, a small hum leaving him when Punk pulled his hair out of pleasure. "..I will say a man that can appreciate pain.. he is fuckin' great.. but both? Utter perfection."

The Southern drawl was turning Punk on more than it should have, the man tugging on his client's colored locks roughly. Soon, he felt Jeff's calloused hands groping his thighs and smoothing up the hard muscle until they were under his boxers. He nodded at Jeff's words and let out a small moan as the man started sucking on his skin again, Jeff's hands gripping his thighs harder when he felt Punk bucking up. Punk smirked "..can appreciate it.. almost as much as.. can deliver it.." he breathed out, tugging Jeff's hair hard to make a statement before wrapping his legs around Jeff and gripping the man's shoulders then twisting. He grinned once he managed to flip them over, Jeff now lying pressed between him and the mattress. "I made good on my part, Jeff.." he trailed off, kissing down Jeff's jaw and to his neck, nibbling on the skin there as he brought a hand up to trace over Jeff's bright green dragon tattoo. Upon hearing the older man's mewl of approval, Punk smirked and gently bit Jeff's neck, clawing at the skin over his client's tattoo until he felt the man start grinding on him almost desperately.

Jeff gasped and arched at every sudden claw and nick of the escort's nails over his ribs, whining openly as he reached down to tug his cargo pants down, squirming under Punk "P..Punk.. need. Fuck, need you to gag me.." he flushed a bit, kicking his pants off the rest of the way before clawing at the younger man's boxers. Jeff leaned up, whispering in Punk's ear "..I get too vocal." Jeff gently sucked on Punk's earlobe, only ceasing the teasing when he gasped at the feeling of Punk slapping his ass hard. Jeff met the younger man's gaze, their eyes blown with lust.

"What if I shut you up in other ways?" he purred, sliding a hand up Jeff's chest before his eyes darkened dangerously; the blond wrapped his hand around Jeff's throat and squeezed as his other hand worked on freeing himself of his boxers and sliding protection on before soon slamming deep into the older man's heat. Punk felt Jeff's throat jump under his hand as the man tried to moan out but he only squeezed harder, listening to the soft mewls and breathless groans coming from the man. Punk smirked as he slammed his hips forward again and again, moving to kiss Jeff but seeing the man turn away and instead kissing over Jeff's jaw without missing a beat. Just as he felt Jeff's throat jump frantically, Punk released the grip he had on the older man's throat and rolled his hips in an attempt to find his client's spot.

Jeff gasped for air, his head feeling light, mind spinning at the feeling of being choked. His heart struggled to pump oxygen to his body but just as he felt himself calming down a bit, Punk slammed his hips in as hard as he could, hitting his spot. The action caused half a yelp to escape him before Punk's tattooed hand was back at his throat. Jeff quivered, mumbling curses as he felt the man's thickness throb inside him. Jeff clenched his ass hard, letting Punk abuse his hole as he pleased. He gasped again when Punk permitted him to breathe but the gasp soon turned into a throaty moan, one that bounced off the walls. That, of course, earning him another hard thrust and spank from Punk before the Chicagoan's hand was back at his throat, ceasing any moan that might've escaped. Jeff's mind was reeling, his body shaking past its limit as he bucked up every time Punk fucked him. "C..cum? Please.." he moaned softly, needing to feel Punk let go inside him even if they were deprived of the best part.

Punk heard the last word in a breathless moan and growled out with animalistic need, releasing Jeff's throat and instead gripping his hips as he slammed into the man over and over again until his orgasm washed over him and he came hard, body shivering as he rolled his hips against the older man's. "FUCK! Jeff.. god.. fuckingdamn!" he purred as he slowly rolled his hips, watching Jeff's face contort into one of pure pleasure as Punk repeatedly hit the older man's prostate.

Jeff gasped, arching softly as he let Punk fuck him through his orgasm but right before the older man came, Jeff lifted Punk to let him slip out of his heat and laid him down on the bed before he hovered over the Chicagoan's body. "So fuckin' hot.. my little masterpiece." He purred as he stroked himself a few times before coming onto Punk's abs and chest, his body shaking, completely wrecked from the abuse he took tonight.

Punk licked his lips as he looked down at the mess Jeff made on his body, he hadn't expected it to go like that but he had to admit it was a hot sight. He lay there in complete bliss for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of their pants filling the room.

"Were you.. serious about the shop thing?" he wondered, voice thick and rough from the treatment just moments ago. Jeff smirked, looking over at Punk from the spot he'd chosen to lay at.

Punk chuckled, his eyes going back to their normal green "Yeah.. I owned one. I still draw every now and again." He admitted, earning a nudge from Jeff.

"Good. Maybe next time you can paint me one of your personal designs and I can suck you off as thanks." He whispered casually, humming softly to himself as he looked up at the ceiling again.

Punk grinned, shaking his head in amusement. Jeff was definitely out of the ordinary but he asked and knew how to listen so he was definitely someone Punk could get used to. "…only if you let me tie you up for it.."

Jeff shivered, resting on his elbow as he looked at Punk "Deal."

Punk grinned, laying back down and staring up at the ceiling, both of them enjoying comfortable silence for close to twenty minutes before Jeff sighed and kissed Punk's cheek softly. Punk looked at Jeff with a small smile "See ya then.. hopefully with more stories that can get you that turned on so damn quickly." He teased before getting up and quickly dressing himself again.

Just as Punk opened the door to leave, Jeff called out "oh.. and bring a regular t-shirt next time.. this shit took too long to take off, sooner I can get to your ink the better." He winked before turning around and walking into the hotel bathroom for a shower, leaving Punk no choice but to leave.

He chuckled as he closed the door, glad that he had someone that let him let loose a little more and let him take control like that. It was the distraction he needed. As Punk drove back home he blasted Iron Maiden and hummed along, not once being truly bothered by the problems of the past few days.

As Punk made it back to the apartment, a weird feeling washed over him and he looked around, seeing Colt sitting on his couch and frowning. "What the fuck are you doing here, man? Scared the shit out of me." Punk rolled his eyes when Colt stayed quiet and turned on the lights, staring at his friend with a pissed off look on his face. "You mind telling me what the hell you want?"

Colt finally lifted his gaze from the ground, meeting Punk's gaze and letting the older man see his teary eyes "You mind fucking explaining to me why this shit is off and here?!" he shouted, shaking his head and tossing Punk the phone, watching the man catch it "I fucking called at least ten times. I thought for sure you were dead or kidnapped or.." he trailed off, not wanting to say the worst of his thoughts out loud. Colt shook his head and looked away again "Since when the fuck am I not even worth a goddamn text message to warn me that my best friend is goin' off the map?!"

Punk felt guilt and pain wash over him, but of course he masked it.. with the only way he knew how. "Fuck you, Colt! I don't owe you any goddamn explanation! I needed some fucking time to think and I sure as hell couldn't do it with your fatass here distracting me!"

He felt his blood boil, getting up and standing right in front of Punk, getting in the man's face "Don't fucking give me that! You know I'd stay away if you ask me to. But I didn't get shit from you, Punk! What the fuck was I supposed to think? You just started a sketchy ass job.. hell I c.. coulda lost my best friend!"

Punk frowned, shaking his head at Colt "I'll give you whatever I want to give you. Leave my fucking job alone already. I fucking know it's shit okay, I know it. It's more goddamn trouble than it's worth and only making me feel more goddamn useless and unwanted by the minute."

Hearing the fire leave Punk's words let Colt know just how bad Punk was hurting but even more so after the older man called himself that. It'd been 5 years since the last time Colt heard that and he couldn't stand it. He looked his best friend in the eyes and replied "You're not fucking useless. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull? And you're sure as hell not unwanted." He added before doing something they hadn't done in.. fuck he couldn't remember.

Punk was about to spit something more at Colt when he felt the man's lips against his, freezing for a moment until he felt Colt's lips move against his smoothly, their lips fitting together almost too perfectly.

A/N: Welp, hope you enjoyed. Review?