About 20 members of the Raw roster left for the string of house shows in the United Arab Emirates. Punk paced around the terminal, the layover just happening to be in Chicago, not looking forward to an 18 hour flight. When it was finally time for take off a road agent, John, Truth and himself caught a flight to Dubai for a press conference while the rest of their co-workers continued on to Abu Dhabi. They found their seats in the first class cabin and they were all seated in the same row, predictably with John next to him and Truth and the road agent across the aisle. There were partitions between the seats but being a few feet away from John was still emotionally taxing. Even if they were still together they would have been forced to limit all signs of affection between themselves because as forward as Dubai and Abu Dhabi were, this was still the Middle East. He was actually more afraid of Truth degenerating into his particular brand of crazy on the flight. It turned out he didn't need to be worried on that count because Punk suspected that the road agent had slipped Truth a tranquilizer or something because he was amazingly chill the entire flight. He and John didn't speak once.
They arrived in Dubai and took a cab to the location of their press conference. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John take one look at the building and he was obviously considering running for his life.
"What the hell!" John exclaimed.
"This is the tallest building in the world," the road agent said, addressing him and Truth directly most probably because John looked like he was going to run for the hills.
"Tell me the press conference is on the 10th floor," John said warily.
"Actually it's on the observation deck which is on the 124th floor."
John started backing away from the structure and Punk instinctively placed his hand on the small of John's back.
"It'll be fine. They're only asking you to talk not base jump."
John turned to face Punk, their eyes locking. John smiled but Punk quickly looked away. What the hell was he doing? He should have snatched his hand away immediately but he didn't. It felt like his hand was on fire. When they reached their floor Punk strode out of the elevator, feeling John quickly grasp his hand briefly. He took the middle seat, placing his belt on the table. Truth, who seemed almost normal for a change leaned over to tell him that the belt was upside down.
"I'm absolute shit at these formal events," Punk said with forced laughter, Truth joining in.
John led the press conference from the podium, his voice relaxing as he spoke and then answered questions, the subject of the Rock predictably coming up. Then out of nowhere Kane showed up. Someone must have forgotten to tell Punk that it was torture John Cena day. John tried to calm the situation down but that was completely useless. John quickly lost his temper and AA'd Kane through the table he and Truth were sitting at, puting an emphatic end to the press conference. Punk didn't even question Kane's inexplicable appearance because he had stopped questioning Kane's motives long ago.
They boarded a commuter plane for the quick 30 minute flight to Abu Dhabi. It was open seating and Punk took a seat in the last row, far away from the rest of the passengers. The plane was practically empty but John took the seat next to his. Punk moved to pull the armrest down, putting some sort of barrier between him and John but John scooted closer to him, making it impossible. Punk turned to look out the window trying to ignore the fact that he could feel the heat coming off John's body. He felt John lay his hand over his, entwining their fingers. Punk never took his eyes off the skyline, he should stop this immediately but his body was working independently of his brain. John lifted their clasped hand to his chest and Punk could feel John's heart fluttering against the back of his hand. John's other hand came up to cup his cheek. Punk couldn't help himself and he turned to face John, finding him much closer than he thought. Punk just watched as John moved closer still. Punk's eyes fell closed the moment their lips touched. The kiss wasn't rushed or desperate, John was kissing him slow and deep, as if he was learning Punk all over again. Punk finally regained his senses and pushed John away, but John leaned in and tried to kiss him again. Punk held his hand up between them shaking his head. John wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking his head into Punk's neck, his lips brushed over the tattoo behind his ear.
"Please, Phil, please, come back to me. I don't want to go through my life without you."
"We're broken John. You broke us. There's nothing left to save."
"Don't say that." John's arms tightened around him until it was bordering on pain.
The captain came over the speakers and announced they would be landing momentarily.
"John, let go."
"Never."
"John, we're landing, you have to let go."
John kissed him behind the ear softly and unclenched his arms from around Punk as the plane touched down. John stared at him longingly as they taxied to the gate. Everyone stood up to deplane.
"You're wrong Phil, we'll never be over," John rose, walking down the aisle. Punk watched his retreating back and knew that John was absolutely right. It would never be over.
They barely made it to the arena in time for the first of 3 house shows. The road agent informed him that he would be wrestling Ziggler that night in the main event. He changed into his gear and he could feel Kofi's eyes on him, knowing that something had happened. Kofi didn't push, just asked him if he wanted to watch from backstage while he wrestled Jericho. Punk watched as Kofi beat Jericho with a particularly fierce Trouble in Paradise. Jericho stormed past him, Kofi following him shortly after, smiling broadly.
"That was one hell of a match. Maybe I should be worrying about you in the Elimination Chamber and not Jericho."
"You're damn right. It's going to be me and you at the end."
"I look forward to it."
They both made their way backstage, passing John in the hall. John veered in front of him, cradling his face between his hands and kissing him briefly before continuing down the hall to the arena entrance.
"What the hell happened in Dubai?" Kofi asked, shocked by this swift turn of events.
"I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to."
Kofi accepted Punk's answer and spoke no more about it. They waited around in companionable silence until it was time for his match with Ziggler. He approached the arena entrance as saw that Ziggler was already there.
Ziggler smiled warmly at him but it left Punk cold. Everything that he thought he found appealing about Ziggler had fallen away. He needed to end this charade as soon as possible. He had encouraged Ziggler and now he needed to tell him unequivocally that anything between them was impossible. Punk felt guilty for his actions and needed to free himself from this situation as soon as possible.
"Have you finished thinking yet?"
"Yes. After the match we'll talk. Text me your room number after we get to the hotel."
Ziggler entered the arena followed by Punk. The match was as competitive as usual but Punk was sick to his stomach. Every time Ziggler touched him it made him feel guilty and dirty. Ziggler rolled to the outside. Punk would do anything to end this match. He took a running start and went flying through the ropes, performing a brutal suicide dive. He knew neither one of them would recover enough to get back in the ring. He just needed to wait for the interminable count to 10 for them both to be counted out. Boo's rang out through the arena. Punk turned his head to see Laurinaitis throw Ziggler back into the ring. No matter what his current state of mind was, there was no way that he was going to let Laurinaitis get the better of him. He pulled himself up using the ring apron and rolled back in as the count reached 9. He immediately pulled Ziggler onto his feet and hit the GTS, ending the match. He hurried to the locker room, desperately needing a shower that would hopefully stop his skin from crawling.
The guys made plans to go out to get something to eat and Kofi didn't even bother to extend the invitation to Punk, seeing that he was in no state for company. Punk settled for a Diet Pepsi and a Larabar, both waiting and dreading for the text from Ziggler. Punk's phone signaled that he had a text and he had to force himself to read it, but it wasn't from Ziggler. The text was from John but there were no words, only a picture of him and John from happier days. They kept coming and any resolve that Punk had was being wiped out by John's texts. He should have known that the slight show of affection that he had given John would be enough to encourage John to pursue him relentlessly. After all, it had only taken a few marginally friendly words for John to pursue him all those months ago.
He had seen Ziggler's room number come over during the onslaught of texts from John but he didn't even bother to read it. The photos finally stopped coming but a few minutes later his phone beeped again. He pulled up the message from John. It was not another picture but a number. It was John's room number. Punk was heading to the door without even thinking.
He arrived in front of John's door but couldn't bring himself to knock. Punk turned to walk away but the door opened and John pulled him into the room, backing him up against the door. John wrapped his arms around Punk, threading his hands through Punk's hair and fusing their mouths together. They kissed, tongues tangling together. Punk didn't even bother to try and resist, it had been too long and he wanted it too much. John brought their bodies flush together and Punk could feel, even through the layers of clothes, that John was just as hard as he was. John skimmed him hands down Punk's side, lifting his shirt and pulling it over his head. John lowered his head, kissing down his neck and across his collar bones. John moved farther south, lowering himself to his knees. He sucked kisses over his hip bones and pulled Punk's shorts down a few inches revealing his tattoo. John rested his head on Punk's stomach, his breath hitching and stared up at Punk.
"I was so afraid that it wouldn't be there. I would have died if you had gotten it removed," John said, a tear leaking from his eye.
Punk reached down to wipe the tear away, "I would never get rid of it, never."
John smiled at him, dimples in full force, and lowered his head back to softly kiss the tattoo before moving to the other hip bone. He sucked the skin into his mouth, his teeth grazing the area. Punk knew John had left a mark when he pulled back and stared at the place his mouth had been, running his fingertips over the livid mark he had left on Punk's skin. John pulled Punk's shorts and boxers down his legs. His fingers dug into the sides of Punk's hips, John lowered his mouth to Punk's cock, sucking him in until his nose was brushing Punk's stomach. John bobbed his head quickly. There was no way he could last, it had been to long, and it was John. John moaned around his cock and the vibrations made Punk's hips jerk and he was coming down John's throat. He felt John's throat clench around him as he swallowed. John wrapped his arms around Punk's middle, so tightly as if he was afraid Punk would disappear.
"God, the way you taste, you're just as sweet as I remember."
John lifted Punk off his feet, carrying him over to the bed and laying him down. John stripped down and lay on top of Punk. The skin on skin contact made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. John pulled his knees apart nestling his hips between Punk's.
"I want to feel you, I want to be inside you, please say yes."
"Yes."
Punk should have asked for lube, should have asked for preparation, but he didn't ask for any of it. He wanted to feel everything.
John entered him slowly, stilling when he was fully sheathed, his hips meeting Punk's.
"God, I missed this, the way you feel around me, there's nothing in the world that can possibly compare to it."
John's hips started to move, keeping his strokes slow and deep, as if trying to savor every moment. John's cock grazed his prostate and Punk locked his legs and arms around John.
"Right there, god John, please more."
John hips picked up speed, keeping his hips angled to hit Punk's prostate on every stroke. Punk was hard again, his cock trapped between their stomachs. The friction was amazing but he needed more.
"John, please, touch me."
"Not yet."
John laced his fingers through Punk's and held them over Punk's head. John leaned down to kiss Punk, his strokes more frenetic. Punk squeezed his muscles around John's cock and John was only able to hold on for a few more strokes until Punk felt John coming deep inside him. John rested his head on Punk's chest.
"John…"
John rolled over, Punk lying on top of him.
"I want you to come inside me, please Phil, fuck me."
Punk unlaced their hands and slid into John. Punk tried to move slowly but it was no use. John was hot and tight and Punk was already too far gone. He stroked in and out of John with wild abandon. John began moaning his name continuously. Hearing his name Punk was only able to hold out for a few more moments before coming. Punk rolled to John's side, his chest heaving. John turned them on their sides and pressed his body to Punk's back, looping his arm around Punk's waist. John rested his forehead against the base of Punk's neck, running his lips idly over the skin.
"You have no idea how much I missed you, missed this. It's like an ache that never seems to go away," John murmured into his neck. "I haven't slept in properly in weeks but now that you're here I can't keep my eyes open. I don't want to miss a thing."
"I'm pretty sure we could both use a night of uninterrupted sleep."
"Promise me you'll be here when I wake up."
Punk raised John's hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. He could hear John's breath evening out and the movement of John's chest and the sound of his breathing lulled him to sleep.
Punk's eyes flew open, disoriented for a minute until memories of last night came flooding back. He looked over his shoulder and John was fast asleep beside him. They used to sleep practically on top of each other but John had rolled away in the night. Punk panicked, immediately grabbing his clothes and got out of John's room as fast as his legs could take him. He returned to his and Kofi's room to find Kofi already awake.
"Where have you been? I was worried…"
And then Kofi took a good look at him.
"What happened?"
"John," and then Punk grabbed his bag and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He could smell John's particular scent wafting off his body. He stripped out of his clothes and turned the shower on but he didn't get in. He moved to the mirror and could see the hickey below his hip bone, the finger shaped bruises around his lower hips, his mouth red and swollen. He sat on the floor, letting the water steam up the bathroom, but he couldn't bring himself to wash John off his body.
AN: When I started this chapter I realized that for me to get from point A to B would require a chapter the length of a novella so I split in into two sections. The next chapter should be out in the next couple of days. I won't tell you how long this chapter had been completed but I had to let it sit because I was very conflicted about it. I want to smack Punk for running away and I wrote it that way!