March 24, 2012
Jericho, of course, did not show up for the house show in Lakeland which was a very short drive from Tampa, made even shorter by what John considered driving. Traffic cops were obviously not something that John Cena cared very much about. Punk just held on for dear life as John turned I-4 into his own personal NASCAR track. At least his antics assured that they would be able to spend one more night alone together in what was now truly their house instead of staying in a hotel room like the rest of the roster. In the morning they met up with the roster at the airport in Tampa and flew to Puerto Rico.
Punk was getting sick of Ziggler at these house shows. Even beating him silly for his past transgressions had gotten old. At least today it was a variation on a theme being a 2 out of 3 falls match. The first fall went to Ziggler after Vickie pushed him off the top rope and he straddled the turnbuckle and fell to the mat, leaving Ziggler to hit the Zig Zag, holding on to the ropes for good measure and got the pin. The second fall went to him after a GTS. Punk maneuvered Ziggler into the Anaconda Vise when he heard the crowd erupt with boos due Jericho entering the arena. Punk upped the torque on the maneuver and Ziggler tapped out instantaneously. Punk slid out under the ropes and went after a retreating Jericho and following him to the backstage area.
"Jericho! Jericho, wait up! If you'd turn around and stop running from me like a coward then you would know that I don't have a chair, or a lead pipe or anything else that I might like to try to bludgeon you to death with."
"Listen, I'm sorry…"
"You're not sorry in the slightest so don't even pretend otherwise. What I want to know is what in the fuck is wrong with you. The only thing this needed to be was a straight up wrestling match to see who the best is. You didn't need to show up with your viral videos and your vow of silence and your Lite Brite jacket to get my attention. You could have come up to me on a street corner and asked for a match to see who really had claim to the epithet best in the world and I would have made sure you got it, whether it be on Superstars or a dark match or in front of 3,000 people in Kalamazoo."
"But WrestleMania…"
"You're making my point for me right now. How many famous, show-stealing WrestleMania moments have you had but it never seems to be enough. You're spoken about in the same breath as Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels; you've made your mark on the business. All you're doing now is tarnishing your legacy with the shit you're pulling on me right now. Do you even know or care what you look like, skipping shows and appearing via satellite to air my family's dirty laundry. It makes you look desperate. It makes you look like you couldn't take me in the ring with a pair of mics between us so you had to resort to something so vile just to feel like you were in control. That guy that stepped out into the arena after the millennium clock counted down, the guy that knocked the Rock back on his heels his first night in the WWE, that guy is fading away with every act of cowardice you perpetrate on me. Let's say you do win, don't wait around for me to invoke my rematch clause. One match should be all that's needed to determine who's the best and if that's not me I'm not going to dog your heels begging for scraps. I'll let you get what's coming to you, feuds with mid-card place holders that will bore the crowd to tears, being flung around by whatever juiced up behemoth Vince has a man crush on at the time, having to carry a match with whatever washed-up has been they've found that they pay 5 times as much as you."
"I'll still be Champion."
"And that will be all that's left to you when all this is over. When you walk down that ramp all you'll hear is silence. The fans won't love you, they won't hate you. All you'll get from them is apathy. Any joy you ever found in this business will turn to ashes in your mouth and after all these long years that's all you'll be left with. I won't presume to think that you might actually show up for Raw but if you do drop in via satellite, feel free to say whatever you want. You've already backed me up to the edge, push a little more and you'll get to see what I'm like when I've been pushed over."
"I'm the best Champion the WWE has ever seen!"
"You're not, and you won't ever be, neither will I actually. The sooner you accept that the sooner you stop living in your state of delusion."
Punk turned on his heel and began walking back to the locker room when he heard the sound of carnage being let loose on anything in close proximity to Jericho. Punk turned and watched as Jericho dismantled the backstage area, wanting to see one of the fabled fits of Jericho that the man was prone to. Jericho finally looked up to see he was being watched.
"What the fuck are you looking at?"
"Don't put on a show in the hallway if you don't want an audience."
"I fucking hate you CM Punk, I hate you!"
"You've made that clear. The really fucked up part is that we could have been friends. Come at me again on Raw, I dare you," and Punk turned on his feet and left Jericho seething in the hallway.
Punk eventually made it to the locker room to find John waiting for him in the hallway with their things.
"Everyone already left for the hotel. Where were you?"
"Talking to Jericho."
"You mean you got into a backstage brawl?
"No, I talked, he listened. I don't think he's used to having his motives questioned."
"One night in Puerto Rico, what do you want to do?"
"How about we get a few of the guys together and go to that place we went to with John and Melina last time we were here. Why are you pouting like I just took away your puppy."
"You want to hang out with the guys tonight?" John said with a slight whine.
"Oh, so that's the issue. I didn't think I needed to RSVP to your invitations for sex 2 weeks in advance and then put it in my calendar next to the day when my mortgage payment is due."
"Fine. Dinner with the guys it is."
John had to admit that he was having fun. Not the type of fun that he had planned for the night but Punk seemed to be having a good time. John's good time came to an abrupt halt when he noticed the guy across the room staring a hole through Punk. It wasn't the usual 'oh, it's my favorite wrestler' stare but a heated look that said he would prefer it if Punk's clothes would magically disappear. That look was one that he frequently made use of so he recognized it immediately on the man's face. They were in public so John couldn't kiss Punk to stake his claim nor go across the restaurant and demand that the man avert his fucking eyes from his boyfriend. Eventually the glare John was sending across the room was received and the man looked away. After the cease of seductive looks John figured it was safe to go to the bathroom. When he returned to the table he found Punk missing.
"Where's Phil?"
"He went to order the next round at the bar."
John found Punk leaning against the bar with the guy from across the room standing far too close for his comfort. Punk was talking to the guy who was looking at Punk like he was something to eat. John felt his blood pressure spike when the guy rested his hand on Punk's hip and drew him closer. That was his fucking hip John fumed because it was the hip that bore his name. Punk stepped back quickly and grabbed the tray of drinks from the bar.
"What was that all about?" John asked testily when Punk sat back down.
"It was nothing."
"It didn't look like nothing," John forced out between clenched teeth but Punk had already turned to talk to Kofi and missed John's angry response.
The night finally came to an end without Punk being hit on by any other men, mostly due to the fact that John had followed the guy to the bathroom that had dared put a hand on Punk and threatened to maim him if he so much as looked at Punk again. Punk was having a great time but John sat fuming until they left and headed back to the room.
"I'm going to take a shower, want to come with?" Punk directed at John, obviously confident that his offer would be accepted.
"I'm tired. I'm just going to go to bed and shower in the morning."
"Okay," Punk said with a disappointed tone.
John stripped to his boxers and lay back on the bed. The shower cut on and John rose from the bed searching his bag and found what he was looking for. John lay back in bed and waited for Punk to get out of the shower. He listened as Punk moved through the room and slipped under the covers next to John who wasted no time and rolled on top of Punk, straddling his waist.
"I thought you were tired."
"Just thinking about you naked and wet in the shower changed my mind."
"Why didn't you join me then?"
"I have other plans for you tonight," John said, running his hands up Punk's sides and raising Punk's hands over his head. John held them there with one hand. "Stay."
"What fun would that be? You may have 30 pounds on me but…" Punk went silent when he felt the metal circle his wrists and click into place. He yanked his hands down but the cuffs were threaded through the headboard.
"When we were in Chicago I found them in your bedside drawer. You do have the strangest taste in mementos. I've been waiting for the chance to get my hands on these and you can't say that you don't deserve to be taught a lesson."
"What did I do?"
"How about getting eyefucked by that guy in the restaurant the entire time we were there or maybe it was chatting up that same asshole at the bar, letting him get close enough to put his hands on you. You should know better than that by now."
"I didn't encourage…"
"You never do, do you, but it seems to keep happening over and over doesn't it? It kills me that I can't let every man with wandering eyes that you belong to me, but I can understand why they can't tear their eyes away…" John said softly, running his hand down Punk's bare leg. "If they knew what it was like to have these wrapped around me when I'm buried deep inside you I'd be in more street fights than wrestling matches."
John reached up and pulled Punk's boxers down his legs slowly, spreading Punk's legs to an obscene degree, exposing Punk's entrance to John's hungry gaze. John settled on his stomach between Punk's legs and rubbed his cheek along Punk's smooth thigh until his lips met the tendon connecting Punk's thigh to his pelvis. John sunk his teeth into the flesh, Punk's hips jerking with the pressure, John's tongue running over the mark he had left behind. John lifted Punk's legs to settle them over his shoulders. John's mouth sought out Punk's hole, delicately licking the tight pucker. He restrained himself to only circle the entrance, denying Punk the pleasure of penetration.
"John, please…"
"Please what? This maybe…" John said, sinking two fingers into Punk's opening, scissoring them open roughly, desperate to taste Punk. John inserted a third, then a fourth finger, spreading Punk wide. John resumed his position, bypassing Punk's cock, hard and leaking precome. With the saliva and the thorough fingering John had given Punk, John's tongue slid in easily. His tongue moved in and out, seeking deeper access with every thrust.
"John, right there, fuck, don't stop," John hearing the cuffs rattle as Punk's strained against the restraints.
John used his thumbs to spread Punk even wider so his tongue could continue to caress the bundle of nerves that were reducing Punk to a quivering mess. John wanted to see Punk come undone.
"John, touch me please…"
John did not respond, only continued to feed on Punk's musky flesh. Punk's body seized up, his back arching and his channel tightening around John's tongue. John sat up and rested his head on Punk's hip, watching as Punk came down from his orgasm, his chest and hair slick with sweat. Punk finally opened his eyes to meet John's self-satisfied gaze.
"You certainly seem proud of yourself."
"I just tongue fucked you into an orgasm without ever touching your cock."
"Well if this wrestling thing doesn't work out at least you have a talent to fall back on," Punk said with a laughing smile. Punk let his spread legs tighten around John's waist his feet digging into the muscles of John's upper thighs, trying to draw him closer.
"Something you want?"
"You know what I want."
John sat up, sliding his boxers off and settling back between Punk's legs, his cock brushing up against Punk's entrance but he did not move any further. John watched as Punk tried to impale himself on his cock, arms straining against the cuffs. John moved Punk's legs over his shoulders, sliding into Punk easily, but not moving beyond that motion.
"John, please, move…"
"Maybe I want to stay just like this," John whispered, leaning up to kiss Punk thoroughly. Punk's response was to tighten his muscles around John's cock. John's eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, his hips starting to move of their own accord. Punk rolled his hips and John began to thrust his hips quickly, his pace becoming erratic after being on edge for so long already. He could feel Punk hard between their bodies and wrapped his hand around Punk's cock, stroking him roughly, wanting Punk to come with him. His mind started to get hazy, the friction overwhelming him. Punk's breathing caught and he could feel Punk's come splash between their bodies, the feeling enough to send him toppling over the edge with Punk. Punk's legs fell from over his shoulders. John waited for their breathing to steady and pulled out of Punk.
"This is so hard," John said softly, resting his head on Punk's chest. "I want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want to be able to kiss you any time I want to. Even with the biggest match of my life staring me in the face there are times when I think I would give it all up just so we can have a normal life together, not worry that this might get out and wreck both our careers. Sometimes I think we should just risk it, damn the consequences."
John was surprised when Punk wrapped his arms around him. John looked up at the cuffs wrapped around the headboard.
"What the hell?"
"Don't you remember Tables, Ladder and Chairs? These cuffs have a mind of their own. One sprung open and I unlocked the other one. There's a catch on the side. You think the WWE could afford to buy actual police-style handcuffs not some unreliable thing they found on the internet."
"So you pretended to be locked up?"
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself, why wouldn't I give you what you want?"
"What if I asked if we could just say fuck the world and go public."
"I could deal with the consequences but I don't think you could. I was willing to walk away once but I know you would miss the WWE. TNA would fall over themselves trying to get you and the smaller promotions like ROH or Dragon Gate probably wouldn't care what we did in our spare time but that's not you. You're WWE forever and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. When you decide to retire then we can do whatever we want."
"We're still young, that's a long time away."
"One day we'll get everything we want, we just have to wait it out."
"There are some things I'm not willing to wait for."
March 26, 2012
Monday Night Raw
Punk and John arrived at the arena in Atlanta. After speaking to a road agent both men were informed that they were not scheduled for a match that night. They navigated the backstage area and Punk came to a stop in front of the locker room but John kept walking.
"Hey, where are you going? The locker room is right here."
"I pulled rank after you left for Smackdown the other night and got us a private locker room again."
"Neither one of us has matches tonight, what are we supposed to do, stare at each other all night?"
"There are other things we could do…"
"At the current rate of the occurrence of other things I'll be lucky if I can…Christian, Hey!" Punk yelled as Christian came out of the other locker room down the hall. Christian just turned and looked at him uneasily. Jericho stepped into the hallway and smiled smugly at Punk before he and Christian continued down the hallway.
"I'm sorry about Christian throwing his lot in with Jericho."
"Christian changes his allegiances as often as the weather. I just didn't think Christian would be friends with someone so vile. The guy has problems admittedly but…"
"Why do you think he's here?"
"Well there are only 3 open spots left for WrestleMania and I don't think he's been drafted to Team Teddy."
Both Punk and John turned around at the sound of someone coming down the hallway. It was the Rock with his entourage and the only attention he paid them was to smirk at John.
"Let's go to our locker room before we run into any more undesirables in the hallway."
The show started with Randy and Sheamus being defeated by Daniel and Kane. They elected to make out through the majority of the GM clusterfuck but were disturbed when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," John called out while Punk just scowled at the door.
Randy stuck his head in the door. "I don't care what I'm interrupting but I can't handle being out there in the monitor bay with the great unwashed."
They caught the end of the GM mess when it was revealed that Miz and Christian would be rounding out Team Johnny. There was another knock on the door and John called for them to come in. A road agent stuck his head in the door.
"Punk, there was a last minute change to the card. You'll be facing Christian tonight."
Punk just nodded. "I'm sure Jericho had absolutely nothing to do with that," Punk said sarcastically.
Punk was on his way to the curtain for his match and was greeted with Kofi standing outside the doorway ready to knock.
"Do you guys mind me hanging out in here? Miz is swanning about the monitor bay like he actually was the first draft pick."
The assembled group watched as Punk made his way to the ring. He had only taken a few steps when Jericho appeared on the big screen.
"What the hell! Punk and I saw him earlier. He's in the damn building but he's still hiding out and phoning it in from some abandoned corner of the arena."
Punk just looked frustrated at Jericho's cowardice. John winced as Jericho brought up Punk's mother who John knew Punk adored. Jericho went on to say that Punk was a bastard because his parents were married after Punk was born.
"Does Jericho know what century we're living in because that isn't exactly uncommon," Randy said derisively.
Punk looked pissed but not to the extent that he had been with Jericho's previous claims. They camera pulled back to show Christian standing a few feet from Punk. He said something but no one in the locker room could make out what he said. What was obvious was the intense look of betrayal that Punk directed at Christian. He hung his head and turned his back, giving Christian the opening to attack him from behind.
Christian kicked Punk repeatedly when he was down but made the fatal mistake of throwing Punk to the outside. Punk began slamming Christian's head into the announce table, over and over. Punk landed a particularly vicious kick to Christian's head. Punk followed that up with a GTS to Christian on the steel steps. Punk followed Christian to the ground, locking in the Anaconda Vise. They could hear the officials telling Punk to let go but Punk responded with "Not a chance" and began screaming wildly "This is you Jericho." Punk let up and walked away, only to leap across the steel steps and lock in the Vise again. Punk had a wild look in his eyes, screaming at the top of his lungs. Punk finally backed off and made his way out of the arena.
Kofi and Randy shared an alarmed look.
"I'm out of here," Randy said, rising to leave the room.
"I'm right behind you," Kofi said, both men rushing out the door.
Punk's phone started ringing continuously from inside his bag and John knew it was Punk's Mom. John wasn't sure he would be able to talk down Punk from his current state of mind but maybe his Mother could.
John picked up Punk's voice outside in the hallway. He could make out another voice. Whoever had been sent to interview Punk after that must have a death wish. Punk stormed into the locker room and his belt went flying across the room.
"It's a fucking lie. My mother was married to my father long before they ever had me."
John pulled Punk down to the couch, wrapping his arms around him. Punk buried his head in John's neck.
"It's not so much what he said because I wouldn't care if I was a bastard or not, but no one talks shit about my mother."
"I think Christian got the message."
"Christian, that disloyal fuck."
"What did he say to you in the ring?"
"He apologized. He apologized for telling Jericho things he shouldn't have. That's how Jericho knew about the things he talked about. Christian stabbed me in the back and told Jericho things that I thought Christian knew better than to go repeating no matter how crazy he's acting at the moment. I would hunt his ass down if I didn't know that he's writhing in well-deserved pain in the trainer's room."
Punk stood and made his way to his bag when his phone started going off again. Punk picked it up and immediately held it away from his ear. John could hear Punk's Mother screaming from across the room. Punk didn't say much beyond one word answers before he hung up.
"Well, my Mom's not too happy about basically being called a whore on national TV. Apparently I can never come home again if I don't hand Jericho his ass at WrestleMania. Also, I never want to hear my Mother say fuck again, at least not quite so many times."
Punk collapsed back into the sofa and let out a shaky breath. "Jericho is a fucking dead man."
"If he hasn't figured that out already I think what just happened out in the ring drove that message home."
Punk's phone beeped with a text message.
"That was Kofi. Apparently I reinjured Christian and he had to pull out of the GM match."
They sat in silence, wrapped around each other when the Rock appeared on the screen.
"You should go out there," Punk said, nudging John in the side.
"What about…"
"I can be left alone for 15 minutes. I'm not going to hunt Jericho down and strangle him with my shoelaces. It will be much more satisfying to beat him bloody in front on millions of people."
John reached the gorilla position and listened to the Rock for a while. The Rock was still cracking jokes. John thought that the time for jokes had long passed. WrestleMania was here but the Rock still wasn't taking John seriously. The Rock finally sobered up and John knew it was time for him to confront the Rock for the last time before WrestleMania. John asked the stage tech to cue up his music and made his way to the ring but his feet felt like they were made of lead. With all the wrist notes and the rapping and the hash tagging John hadn't let the full weight of what was about to happen overtake him but now he felt the full force of what was going to happen on Sunday. What if he couldn't beat the Rock? After everything he had done and said he left himself with no way out. If he lost everything he had worked so hard for over the past decade his career would be in tatters. He would have to take his loss and walk into Raw the next night and face the fans that thirsted for his humiliation at the hands of the Rock.
He felt his John Cena persona slip into place to try and deny everything he was feeling inside. He finally understood fully what Punk said about being seen as weak. He put on the show that the fans expected but as he cleared the curtain his face fell. He walked back into his and Punk's locker room and collapsed on the sofa next to Punk, letting his head fall in Punk's lap.
"What happens if I lose?"
Punk didn't respond verbally, just ran his hands over his shorn hair.