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The cheap, flimsy gas station pizza was on the heating racks already so Punk grabbed a slice as he walked around the store as something to do. Punk's own music was blaring behind the counter, screaming unintelligible lyrics at the otherwise quiet setting. The door suddenly opened causing Punk to jump a little. The pizza sauce dripped onto his D.A.R.E. t-shirt.

“God damn it.” Punk looked up in time to see a young man bounce around the store. “Hey.” He said half heartedly as a greeting over the music. 

“Hey!” The guy shouted back, turning to look in the direction Punk’s voice came from with a big grin. 

“Huh.” Punk blinked a few times before walking back around the counter.

For some reason he turned the music down as he watched the guy head into the closed cooler with the beer. Punk fumbled for some napkins to wipe the sauce off his t-shirt but somehow managed to just get it on his already dirty, dark jeans. The cooler opened up again, the guy walked out and came over to the counter dropping a case of beer. 

“A pack of Newports?” The guy asked as he lifted the Bengals hat off his head to push the greasy brownish-blonde hair plastered to his forehead under the hat.

“Dude, you look underage. Let me see an ID.” Punk leaned on the counter and made eye contact. The dude had extremely beautiful blue eyes, not that he was noticing that or anything.

“Of course.” The guy handed over a driver’s license with a smug, little smile on his face that matched the one in the photo. “I gotta babyface. I know how old I look.”

“Yeah.” Punk glanced between the ID and the guy, DEAN, apparently. “Fine.” Punk shrugged as he scanned the ID and it went through. He was pretty sure it was fake though. “Lucky you. It worked, Dean.”

“Thanks. Nice shirt by the way.” Dean took the card back and tucked it into the ripped, baggy jeans just barely on his thin hips before gesturing to his own t-shirt. D.A.R.E. to resist drugs and violence. “But I do have a bit of a problem.” 

“Uh. Thanks?” Punk frowned at the compliment, thrown off by the guy buying drugs and alcohol in a D.A.R.E. shirt. “A problem?” Punk blinked at the younger guy. 

“Yeah. See, I only got ten bucks.” Dean explained with an innocent shrug. 

“If you only got ten bucks maybe you shouldn’t be spending it on cigarettes and beer?” Punk raised his eyebrow, he could always feel his piercing move when he did that. 

“Nah. Gotta get the staples. Cigarettes and beer.” Dean leaned forward on the counter, a big goofy grin on his face. A thick silver chain peaked out from under the black t-shirt. “You’ve got cool piercings.”

“Thanks?” Punk again was a little caught off guard by the guy’s vibe. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Was this guy about to rob Punk over some beer and a pack of cigarettes?

“And really pretty eyes.” Dean winked. He was already holding the pack of cigarettes Punk had put on the counter. “Anyways,” Dean started smacking the package against his palm. “I’ll give ya the ten, and suck your dick if you give me this shit.”

“The fuck?” Punk leaned back with a confused look on his face.

“I’ll give you the ten bucks and a blowjob for the beer and cigarettes?” Dean repeated like maybe he had said something else to Punk just moments before. 

“I’m--” Punk blinked at Dean then shook his head. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” Dean shrugged, very clearly not caring.

“‘Cause you say that shit to the wrong guy around here and you’ll get your ass beat.” Punk grunted. Honestly he was just stalling because, and he couldn’t believe it, he was considering it.

“I just call that foreplay.” Dean smirked. “C’mon. I’m good. I promise. Here-” Punk couldn’t believe it. The guy pulled out his phone to show him fucking TEXT MESSAGES. 

A text field from someone named ‘Big Cock Claud’ was highlighted. It said, I think you give the best head I’ve ever gotten. Then Dean scrolled to another message. This time from someone named Bitch Ass Seth (don’t answer), let me get the best head in town, baby? And as Dean scrolled onto another (this next one from Daddy Kingston that started with something about choking on his cock) Punk held up his hands in defeat.

“You come with dick sucking references?” Punk shook his head. “It’s not a job interview.”

“You didn't even see the one Bryan sent. There’s no cameras in the walk-in.” Dean pointed out.

“...Fuck. Yeah. Okay, go back in there and I’ll be--” Punk was looking for a sharpie and paper. “A second.”

“Cool.” Dean nodded and started walking back towards the cooler.

Punk was distracted watching him walk away but eventually found what he needed. Quickly he taped a sign to the door, GONE FOR BREAK (BACK IN TEN), and locked the doors before heading towards the cooler. Punk smoothed his sweaty palms against his shirt before he stepped inside.

“Hey.” Dean said with a little smile, this time more shy, as he stepped right up to Punk.

“Hi.” Punk mumbled as he was guided to the beer stacked up into a flat surface at chair height.

“Just sit back, and relax.” Dean dropped onto his knees on the hard floor without much thought or any prompting.

One of the guy’s hands came up to start undoing Punk’s pants while the other hand pushed his legs aside so Dean could slide between. Carefully Dean pushed up his shirt and undid his pants, pulling the material of his boxers aside so he could get to Punk.

It was…weird. Punk couldn't figure out why he felt such nervous energy. He had sex a lot, anonymous blowjobs weren’t uncommon. But the guy just…took Punk to another place. So charming and out of step. Greasy too if the hair at the back of Dean’s head was anything to go by.

Dean started easy and light. A nice, gradual pace. But damn was it good. Dean was good. The reviews weren't wrong and Punk wondered if he was going to end up being one of Dean's reviews he showed people. Punk groaned and eventually had to reach down to hold onto Dean. The cap was knocked to the floor and Punk got his fingers into the mess of hair on top of Dean’s head. 

“Oh, fuck, Dean.” Punk gasped, his hips bucking into the soft, warm mouth. Skilled flicks of the tongue sent shockwaves through Punk’s body. The guy was skilled. “You’re fuckin’ good at this.” 

Punk couldn’t catch his breath. His heart hammered in his chest as Dean took him all the way down and then all the way back to suck on his head. It was incredible. Punk felt his legs starting to shake, and knew he was close. Very close.

“Damn. Gonna cum--” Punk warned and tugged at the hair in his fingers. 

Instead of pulling off Dean leaned all the way down and sucked harder until Punk came with a harsh cry. His hips flexed forward and Dean sucked it all down. Punk’s breathing came out harder as he watched Dean sit back on his heels with a pleased smile and licking his lips. It was obscene. 

“That was awesome.” Dean said like he had just been the one to get his dick sucked.

“Yeah…Yeah. Tell me about it.” Punk started to get himself back in order, tucking himself away. “You’re good at that.”

“Thanks. You said so before.” Dean winked and helped him off the edge of beer cases. “And thanks for the beer and cigarettes.”

“Oh fuck. Don’t fuckin’ remind me.” Punk grunted as they walked back out of the cooler and towards the registers. 

“I’ll see ya around.” Dean smiled big at Punk again as he gathered his stuff. All teeth and apple cheeks. 

“Hey. Wait,” Punk sighed. “How old are you?”

“Don’t worry, Punk” Dean’s smile turned into a smirk as he read the horribly written name tag. “I’m nineteen. Everyone calls me Mox.”

“Okay, Mox.” Punk nodded as he watched Mox leave the store, already cracking a beer open and lighting a cigarette.