sai-kibi

like look at him and tell me why you hate him???

Ni siquiera sabía cómo había terminado con aquel sombrero de vaquero, solamente recordaba haber bajado del ring con el maletín de Mr. Money In The Bank y había sido escoltado por aquellos dos perrotes a quienes había reclutado por petición de aquel sabio hombre.

Ambos se habían disipado de su lado a petición suya, adentrándose a su vestidor privado; una oficina amueblada a sus necesidades. Soltó un suspiro con cansancio mientras sentía el sudor de su cabello deslizando por su cuerpo, perdiéndose en los inicios de aquellos pantalones que usaba para sus peleas.

Dejó sobre el sillón que se encontraba en el medio del lugar el maletín, caminando hacia su armario para colocarse algo menos descubierto y más cómodo para irse a su hogar.

—“No creía que te ibas a poder librar de aquella llave.” —Una voz con un acento distintivo resonó por toda la habitación.—

Sus músculos se tensaron, enseguida su cuerpo adoptó una actitud más a la defensiva, instintivamente buscando con la mirada el arma mas cercana en caso de que a aquel enmascarado se le diese por atacarlo. Pudo escuchar cómo la televisión se apagaba justo en el momento en el cual anunciaron el siguiente combate.

—“Puedes estar tranquilo, princesa. Vengo en son de paz.” —El tono burlón del mexicano logró meterse en su mente, sin realmente entender el porqué creía ciegamente en aquella promesa de aquel quien creía lo odiaba.—

—“Penta… ¿Qué se te ofrece? A estas alturas pensé que ya habías superado lo que había pasado.” —Aquella voz rasposa y aguda que irritaría a cualquiera, simplemente causaba mas intriga en el mexicano.—

Penta dejó salir una pequeña risa, dándose la vuelta en aquella silla tan extravagante del estadounidense. Su vista enseguida se clavó en aquella espalda algo rasguñada del hombre.

Rollins podía sentir la mirada clavada en su cuerpo, mismo que lo traicionó reaccionando cómo un maldito adolescente, sintiendo cómo su piel se estremecía y sus músculos se destensaban. Cerró los ojos con frustración, apretando los labios para evitar decir algo que pudiese llevar la situación a otro punto.

—“Rollins, Rollins… Yo solo vine a informarte, ¿y así me tratas? Dios, ¿qué modales son esos?” —Un pequeño chasquido de lengua llamó la atención del extranjero, finalmente dándose vuelta sobre su propio eje, encontrándose con la imagen roba alientos que el mexicano le ofrecía.—

Tuvo que parpadear un par de veces antes de sacudir la cabeza, desviando la mirada mientras sentía su cuerpo empezar a recuperar aquel calor que sentía siempre que hacía ejercicio. Se perdió por un momento en sus pensamientos, preguntándose sí era vísperas de navidad o porqué Santa Claus le había llevado aquel regalo. No, no debía estar pensando eso. Era su enemigo.

—“¿Que sucede? ¿Al gran y maravilloso visionario, Seth El chingón Rollins le comió la lengua el ratón?” —Penta, nada chocante, se burló solo cómo el sabía.—

Penta sabía cómo meterse bajo la piel de sus oponentes, eso era algo de admirar suyo, Seth pensó, casi enseguida volviendo a regañarse a sí mismo por estar teniendo aquellos pensamientos tan… buenos, acerca del mexicano.

—“No tengo tiempo para tus juegos, Penta. Di lo que tengas que decir y lárgate.” —Su enojo sonaba débil, casi enterneciendo al mexicano que rió con vacilación.—

—“Uh, qué modales, señorita.” —El mexicano suspiró, finalmente dando el brazo a torcer.—

Todo el semblante del enmascarado enseguida dió un cambio de 360 grados, casi cómo sí otra personalidad se infundiese en su cuerpo. Su cuerpo parecía relajado sobre aquella silla giratoria, piernas abiertas lo suficiente para un cuerpo colocarse entre ellas, los brazos reposando sobre los respaldos, y el torso recostado en la silla, todo mientras aquella camisa negra hacía resaltar la cadena de plata que colgaba de su cuello.

—“Rollins… ¿Haz escuchado hablar de la regla del Vaquero?” —Penta sonrió. De no ser porque lo conocía, pensaría que era una sonrisa coqueta. Pero el amado Penta Cero miedo nunca le sonreiría de esa forma, ¿O si?—

—“No. Dios, ni siquiera sé de que maldita estupidez me estás hablando.” —Rollins protestó demasiado concentrado en transformar su clara vergüenza en enojo.—

—“Bien… Se dice por allá, que cuando se usa un sombrero vaquero, debes de percatarte de que haya siempre un caballo al qué montar en los alrededores.”—El tono cada vez era más juguetón y a su vez mas misterioso, colocándole de nervios.— “Porque sino…”

El misticismo lo estaba desesperando, sintiéndose cada vez más ansioso por la respuesta del mexicano.

—“¿Sino qué? Maldita sea, solo termínalo.” —Gruñó con fastidio.—

—“Bueno Seth… Sí tienes un sombrero de vaquero puesto y no hay caballo en los alrededores, ¿qué montarás entonces, vaquerito?” —La sonrisa pícara del mexicano solamente se ensanchó más, sentado con las piernas abiertas hacia él y usando ambas manos para sostener su miembro bajo los pantalones vaqueros que traía.—

El rostro de realización del estadounidense enseguida tomó color, pintándose de un color salmón mientras una risa nerviosa se apoderaba de su ser, llevando una de sus manos al sombrero que todavía portaba en su cabeza.

No lo podía creer. EL Penta Cero Miedo se le estaba insinuando. No sólo eso, le estaba insinuando que lo montase, VESTIDO. DE. MALDITO. VAQUERO.

Sus ojos enseguida volvieron al cuerpo del mexicano, sintiendo las piernas flaquear mientras se dirigía a paso lento hacia el lugar donde anteriormente había pensado que daba un cuerpo. Su cuerpo estaba trabajando en automático y cuando menos pensó, ya se encontraba inclinado sobre el mexicano, tomándole de los hombros mientras sus piernas se colocaban a cada lado de sus muslos.

Era en ese momento donde agradecía al maldito enfermo de gustos exóticos que era Heyman por haber escogido aquella silla ridículamente grande.

Sus ojos se habían cerrado en automático, rozando de manera demasiado lenta su nariz contra la contraria, sintiendo la tela de la fábrica áspera contra su piel, arrugándola de manera inconsciente mientras presionaba suavemente su frente contra el logo de la contraria.

—“Mierda… Mierda… Penta.” —Gruñó sintiendo el aliento a hierbabuena chocar contra sus labios, deslizando sus manos de los hombros hacia la solapa de la chaqueta deslizando cuero negro que portaba el mexicano, apretando con fuerza.—

El mexicano solamente se había quedado en silencio, usando sus manos para recorrer los fuertes glúteos del barbón, deslizándolas hasta su espalda, sosteniéndolo con fuerza casi clavando sus yemas en la piel caliente bajo su tacto.

Una sola mirada bastó para hacer un pacto silencioso antes de devorarse las bocas con hambre, con dientes chocando, mordiendo, tomando, explorando cada centímetro de sus bocas mientras sus manos tiraban de las prendas con desespero y torpeza.

Sus manos tiraron con furia de aquella chaqueta del mexicano, aprovechando para disfrutar tocar los brazos del mismo, rasguñando con suavidad hasta dejar la chaqueta en el suelo. La misma intensidad fue aplicada para las prendas faltantes, escuchando cómo la hebilla del cinturón chocaba contra el suelo de madera y la apertura del cierre de los vaqueros negros del latino.

Fue cuestión de tiempo y poca preparación para que ambos se encontrasen con sus cuerpos unidos, ahogando sus gemidos con mordidas y besos húmedos que no les bastaban para demostrar el deseo carnal que les recorría de pies a cabeza.

El mexicano no gemía, gruñía cual perro hambriento sobre labios del gringo, usando sus fuertes manos para ayudar al rubio con la estabilidad mientras este rebotaba una y otra vez sobre sus caderas. Él tampoco se quedaba atrás, pues pronto había encontrado un ritmo en el cual ambos se pudiesen complementar, arremetiendo con fuerza contra su culo.

La intensidad no parecía bajar de nivel, convirtiéndose en rasguños, mordidas y tirones por parte de ambos. Penta parecía haberse cansado de los besos, bajando para atacar directamente el cuello, mordiendo y succionando la piel bronceada, demasiado perdido en el placer par darse cuenta de lo que hacía.

Seth no se quedaba atrás, aruñando con fuerza los brazos y pechos tatuados, jadeando de manera algo ruidosa mientras sus piernas empezaban a fallar, sintiendo como el enmascarado abusaba sin ninguna pizca de piedad de su próstata, golpeando una y otra vez.

El desespero inundó el cuerpo de mexicano, tomando en brazos el cuerpo del extranjero para colocarlo sobre el escritorio de madera fina que era cubierto por una tela de cuero. Sin importarle mucho, tomó sus piernas sobre sus antebrazos y se inclinó sobre el rubio, tomando un ritmo mas desequilibrado.

Podía sentir su miembro rebotar mientras una de sus manos instintivamente sostenía el sombrero sobre su cabeza y la otra se sostenía cómo podía del borde del escritorio, de alguna manera pudiendo notar cómo el miembro se adentraba más en su interior. Sus pieles resonaban por todo el lugar, solamente demostrando una vez más el libido desmedido que ambos hombres exudaban.

Las embestidas se volvieron cada vez más torpes, con los dedos del mexicano clavándose en los glúteos del extranjero, probablemente dejando una marca que más tarde se convertiría en un hematoma.

Un suave jadeo con su nombre en el por parte del mexicano avisó su orgasmo, adelantando su propia liberación al escuchar aquel dulce sonido, sintiendo cómo su abdomen se contraía y su semilla se vaciaba sobre su abdomen, arrancándole un gemido vergonzosamente agudo.

—“Mmh…”

Penta ahogó un segundo jadeo sobre sus labios, empujado por última vez contra el cuerpo contrario, manteniendo su pelvis presionada contra su trasero, liberándose dentro del rubio y soltando sus piernas poco a poco.

Su agarre en el sombrero finalmente se debilitó, dejándolo caer mientras soltaba un suspiro cansado, sintiendo contra su pecho la tela de la máscara del mexicano, simplemente dejándolo ser mientras ambos se recuperaban de aquel intenso momento.

(…)

Los minutos pasaron, y con ello la consciencia de ambos hombres se aclaró, con ambos sintiendo la vergüenza recorrer sus cuerpos mientras se acomodaban las prendas.

—“Al menos te pudiste haber traído un maldito condón…” —La primera queja salió de los labios del extranjero, haciendo que el mexicano rodase los ojos y dejase salir un bufido de incredulidad.—

—“Ni siquiera estaba seguro de que aceptarías.” —Penta se justifico, terminando de colocarse la chaqueta mientras observaba como el contrario terminaba de colocarse una sudadera holgada, viéndose más cómodo.— “Pensé que tu armario sería todo prendas extravagantes.”

El tono burlón del mexicano le caló hasta los huesos, sintiéndose inevitablemente irritado, terminando por tirarle con fuerza el sombrero vaquero que había portado. Penta logró tomar dicha prenda antes de que chocase contra su pecho, sonriendo vacilón.

—“Eres insoportable.” —Gruñó entre dientes, terminando por sujetarse el cabello con una liga.—

—“¿Este es mi recuerdito?” —Penta bromeó sujetando la prenda hasta que un par de golpes en la puerta los hizo sudar a ambos frío.—

“¿Señor? ¿Está listo?”

La voz del insoportable hombre ‘sabio’ irritó enseguida al mexicano, cambiando su semblante de nueva cuenta, retomando aquella actitud seria que lo caracterizaba. Ambos caminaron hacia la salida, uno tras el otro, con la tensión intacta.

Decir que sus aspectos estaban hechos un desastre era poco. La camiseta de Penta se encontraba arrugada, con la máscara algo desacomodada y la pintura de su rostro casi completamente desvanecida. Por su parte, Seth no estaba mejor; Su cuello se encontraba con mordidas, su cabello usualmente peinado se encontraba esponjado y pequeños rastros de pintura blanca se podían ver en su barba.

Los dos guaruras que acompañaban al hombre gordo enseguida se pusieron a la defensiva al ver al hombre enmascarado, más sin embargo, sorpresa se llevaron cuando el rubio alzó su mano, calmándolos enseguida. Dejándoles completamente confundidos.

—“No necesito tu chingadera.” —Penta aporreó con suavidad el sombrero vaquero contra el pecho del hombre.— “Pa’ recuerditos, mejor que se repita.” —

El mexicano le guiñó el ojo antes de darle una mirada llena de soberbia al perrote mayor, casi marcando territorio mientras caminaba lejos de la facción, dejando a un muy avergonzado líder frente a sus reclutas y sabio.

“Señor… Ahora le debemos llamar Seth Freaky Rollins?”

Seth en ese momento deseó que el mismo Undertaker saliese del suelo y se lo llevase.

Penta se sentía en las nubes, con la boca del estadounidense rodeando la cabeza de su miembro y jugando con esta en su boca. La punta de su lengua se deslizaba sobre la apertura, ahí donde el presemen escurría hasta ser recogido por la lengua del mayor.

—“Agh… Punker.” —Los jadeos de Penta eran bajo, lo suficiente para que sus compañeros no tuviesen molestias por el ruido.—

El de cabellos canosos alzó la mirada, sonriente sin dejar de lamer el miembro, sus ojos se encontraron con esa imagen tan gloriosa del mexicano con la cabeza tirada hacia atrás, con una de sus manos sobre sus cabellos.

—“N-No creo poder…” —Gimoteó el menor mientras sus dedos apretaban las hebras oscuras y sentía un pequeño cosquilleo recorrerle de pies a cabeza.—

El gringo solo sonrió, apretando suavemente entre sus labios el inicio del glande, presionando lo suficiente para evitar que aquel orgasmo llegase a inundar su boca.

—“Agh… ¡Puta madre!”—Aquel gruñido solo divirtió más a Punk, remplazando su boca con su puño para subir con besos por todo el abdomen del moreno hasta su cuello, besando aquel gran tatuaje que cubría casi toda la extensión de la piel.—

—“Vamos Penta… Sí puedes soportar perder tantas veces contra el inútil de Dominik, puedes controlar tu orgasmo, ¿no?” —Murmuró sobre su oreja, soltando una pequeña risa burlona.—

—“Punk… Cállate la maldita boca.” —Gruñó el menor tomando con fuerza los cabellos del ojiazul, empujando su rostro contra su boca, tomando sus labios en un beso lleno de mordidas y lujuria.—

Sus lenguas danzaban, buscando ocupar el territorio de la boca contraria, conociendo y recorriendo cada rincón mientras las caderas de Penta embestían con suavidad contra el puño del estadounidense, buscando de nueva cuenta ese clímax que tanto había evitado.

El abdomen de Penta se contrajo con suavidad, anunciando de nueva cuenta aquel orgasmo que tanto se había privado. El mexicano jadeó sobre los labios del hombre, llevando su mano desocupada hacia la del mayor que seguía bombeando su miembro, tomando la muñeca con fuerza y manteniéndola en su lugar, sintiendo cómo su miembro dolía por la sobreestimulación.

—“Ah dios… D-Dame unos segundos.” —Penta susurró con los ojos cerrados con fuerza y la frente pegada a la contraria, sintiendo pequeños espasmos en su cuerpo y la intensidad del casi-orgasmo recorriéndolo.—

—“Lo estás haciendo muy bien, Penta…” —Murmuró el mayor, empezando a dejar pequeños besos sobre la mejilla del latino, sintiendo cómo el agarre en su muñeca poco a poco iba aflojando hasta que pudo recuperar la libertad de movimiento.— “Haz aguantado 4 casi-orgasmos, woah… Eso es un muy buen récord.”

El tono burlesco del de Chicago solo hizo sonreír sarcásticamente al mexicano, relajándose sobre la cama y soltando un suspiro de cansancio. Llevó sus manos a su rostro, tallándose la frustración fuera de su cuerpo mientras el mayor se posicionaba sobre su regazo.

—“¿Qué pasó? ¿Acaso el ninja demonio sólo puede soportar 4 intentos de orgasmo?” —Se burló el mayor mientras movía suavemente sus caderas sobre el miembro del mexicano.—

Penta solo pudo murmurar algo inaudible por lo bajo, sin aun atreverse a observar al mayor, demasiado ensimismado controlando su cuerpo para evitar venirse sintiendo cómo su miembro se restregaba sobre las nalgas del contrario.

Con un último suspiro, llevó sus manos a las caderas del mayor, acariciando con suavidad antes de recuperar la compostura, tomando asiento en la cama llevándose encima suyo al punketo.

—“No puede ser que no puedas cerrar la boca ni un solo segundo.” —Gruñó el mexicano mientras una de sus manos separaba los glúteos del angloparlante y la otra alineaba su miembro a su entrada.—

—“Así te gusto… ¿No?” —Murmuró dejándose hacer mientras las manos del mexicano lo ayudaban a bajar por el miembro, pronto sintiendo aquella presión familiar en su retaguardia.— “Penta…”

—“Si… Trágicamente.” —Bromeó mientras su miembro poco a poco se adentraba a aquel estrecho agujero, robándole el aliento mientras sentía un pequeño cosquilleo familiar en su abdomen.—

Soltaron un pequeño suspiro al unísono, sintiendo cómo sus cuerpos por fin se unían en uno solo, cada uno apreciando cómo el otro se estremecía bajo su toque.

La estrechez de las paredes de Punk alrededor de su miembro parecían acostumbrarse de manera natural a su tamaño, llevándole a ocultar su rostro en su cuello, besando y mordiendo la piel mientras intentaba disimular su orgasmo próximo.

Punk podía sentir la respiración del mexicano agitarse poco a poco. El agarre en sus piernas afianzándose mientras sus caderas reposaban sobre las contrarias, con el miembro hundido hasta el fondo suyo. Sus caderas empezaron a moverse de arriba abajo, de manera suave, escuchando cómo el mexicano gruñía y sus uñas se hundían en su piel, rasgando con suavidad.

—“P-Punk… Punk, Punk… Punk” —Aquellos gemidos empezaban a sonar cómo suplica, mientras el menor hundía su rostro en el pecho contrario.—

Una pequeña sonrisa asomó sobre sus labios, acelerando sus movimientos mientras llevaba sus manos a los cabellos largos del latino, enredando sus dedos en la cabellera oscura y tirando suavemente de ellos para juntar sus labios en un beso lento y húmedo, deslizando una de sus manos por el cuello del menor hasta su pecho, apretando uno de los pectorales mientras sentía cómo la piel se estremecía.

Cómo sí de un choque eléctrico se tratase, el mexicano soltó un fuerte jadeo, sintiendo un pequeño espasmo conocido en su pelvis, sucumbiendo al orgasmo mientras gimoteaba el nombre del estadounidense.

Enseguida, el interior del estadounidense se llenó con la semilla del menor, facilitando los movimientos del punketo sobre su miembro y volviéndose más resbaladizos.

—“Oh… Mierda P-Penta.” —El de cabellos canosos jadeó mientras el golpeteo se volvía más rápido, dando justamente en aquel punto donde se podía derretir del placer que inundaba su ser.—

—“Punk, punk, punker…” —El menor susurraba contra su piel, casi abrazándolo mientras el contrario rebotaba sobre sus caderas.—

Una de las manos del mexicano se escabulló entre sus estómagos, tomando el miembro olvidado del mayor y empezando a masturbándolo, con un vaivén torpe que buscaba encontrar un ritmo perfecto al compás.

En cuestión de segundos, el mayor se derramó sobre el puño del mexicano, jadeando con fuerza mientras sentía cómo por segunda vez su interior se llenaba de aquel líquido cálido.

—“Ah mierda… Qué liberador.” —Jadeó el mexicano con ese inglés roto que tanto lo caracterizaba.—

—“Heh… Penta, dios mio…” —Suspiró el mayor dejándose caer sobre el menor, con la mejilla sobre su hombro, abrazándolo.—

—“Hmm? ¿Cansado? ¿Acaso Punker sólo puede aguantar venirse una sola vez?” —Se burló mientras sus brazos rodeaban la cintura del contrario y acariciaba su espalda, dejando pequeños besos sobre su cuello.—

—“Dios, sí que eres insoportable.”

Penta rió sobre su cuello, apretándolo suavemente entre sus brazos antes de darle la vuelta, apresándolo contra el colchón con su cuerpo, instantáneamente teniendo al mayor quejándose por el agitado movimiento.

—“¿Listo para otro round?”

—“Penta.”

—“Yo creo que si.”

The first time CM Punk had the opportunity to watch the entrance of Pentagon, the first thing that came to his mind was that it was way too dramatic, but at the same time, he couldn’t take his eyes away from him while he stretched in his corner.

His eyes were analyzing the walk, way too busy looking at that sticked out tongue to notice the man who was walking by Pentagon’s side, only noticing once he got up on the ring. The gear of that man was pure black, giving him that mysterious aura that got along very well with the skeleton-ish makeup behind that mask. Something inside him twitched when Penta started stripping out of that jacket and gloves, revealing the full outfit.

Penta started taunting him, and honestly that was good, even cute he would say, in his ignorant thinking when all the Arena was singing his name, until they weren’t anymore. Punk didn’t even thought twice before starting to play the same game with Penta, trying unsuccessfully to sign his name with his hands. It was good to know that he vibed with him, they were on the same page, Penta thought.

People were cheering him and his opponent with the same energy, he didn’t really knew who Penta was, but definitely it was going to be funny to wrestle with. Their eye contact battle was intense, Punk started walking towards Penta and he didn’t backed out instead copying him until they were forehead to forehead.

—“Oh im gonna enjoy screwing you in front of everyone.” —Punk’s words sounded maybe a little too lustful but for Penta, he seemed to understand it the other way around.—

—“Good luck trying to, cabrón.” —Punk had to suppressed a smirk, getting pushed by Penta and pushing right back, looking how those eyes started to reflect a little more aggressiveness. Punk was enjoying that little foreplay.—

The action started and with that, the pain. Punk was constantly trying to get him, moving as fast as he could’ve, doing his best not to hurt him so much, but Penta didn’t seem to hold too much either, so he started to get on his same level of wrestling.

It was being fun, the mexican was giving the best of him and that was something to appreciate, getting the full power of another wrestler as loved as him by the public. The match was getting fun, his attention was fully on the mexican until from the corner of his eye he captured the figure of the other man who accompanied him, having to scared him away, he wanted the full attention of Penta.

Back at the ring, it got a little surprised with the attitude of the masked man, asking him to kick him.

—“Come on, big guy. Kick me.” —Penta locked his eyes on the blueish ones, slapping softly his cheek. Punk seemed like he was not doing it, causing the mexican to almost rolled his eyes back in frustration.—

—“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” —Next thing he knew, Penta slapped his stomach, causing him to backed out a little.—

—“Coward.” —Another slap and Punk was convinced, starting to kick him.—

Penta really liked to taunt him, pushing him to use more force than what he expected. Seemed like that masked guy was enjoying each piece of pain that was caused on his body. Honestly, Punk was getting more than excited with that, watching him take his kicks and throws so good. Penta was being a good boy.

It came to a moment that the pain on his leg was getting insufferable, leading him to slip in a really awkward way and having to take a moment where the referee got to him to ask if he was okay but didn’t stay by his side too much, because Penta tried to get to him.

Seemed like Penta cared a little about him, cause his kicks got softer and almost didn’t hurt. He confirmed his theory when he got cornered by the mexican, feeling his fingers tuck his hairs and having to really get close to him. His nose was brushing the side of the mask while Penta hold him against the ropes.

—“Are you okay, man?” —He whispered while the crowd chanted his name. His voice sounded ruffled than before, sending signals through all his body. He just wished it didn’t get to his crouch.—

—“Yeah… Let’s try it again.” —He answered and right away the mexican obeyed him, letting go his hair and taking him to the other side of the ring.—

His kicks and puches became softer, he felt it, he wasn’t using his whole force, just the enough amount to sell it to the crowd. The warm feeling spreading across Punk’s body started getting there.

The final act was getting closer and both men were feeling tired, their bodies were on fire and sweat started to get uncomfortable. Penta gave a very good fight, but they already knew the result of it. Putting him to ‘sleep’ was harder than it looked, he wasn’t precisely lighter and his arms started giving up, it was a miracle that he could even lift him, having to throw him almost right away.

He couldn’t resist to fall in Penta’s chest, and when the count got to three he moved to his ear, discretely just thanking him for the match. He laid down on the ring barely answering to the referee questions before he had to stand up and accept the win.

His lungs tried to get back some air, and even trying to get himself together, he couldn’t stop himself to look back to Penta, watching him breath as hard as him but this time he wasn’t his center of attention. The hooded companion that walked with him on his entrance was now helping him get out of the ring. Something twisted inside his guts, not taking away his look from them, watching the mexican leave getting hold by the hypeman.

Once he got free, he walked right to the locker room, searching for that masked guy and even asking for him to the staff. Luckily for him, he was still wandering around the Arena, althought he didn’t had to walk so much before they ran into themselves in the empty hall.

—“Penta.” —The first one to talk was the older. The mexican smiled offering his hand.—

—“Mr. Punk, it was such an honor to fight against you.” —They shook hands, now skin to skin. Punk couldn’t resist to get him into a hug.—

—“Oh man, you did amazing out there! Honestly? Thanks for softening the punches.” —He laughed, not really wanting to let him go until Penta started getting back to his position.—

—“Is you really hurted? You go to the doctors?” —Penta seemed concerned about his health, and Punk found that really sweet of him.—

—“Oh, don’t worry, is probably nothing. No, actually i came directly to look for you and greet you for such a good fight.” —Penta seemed moved by that.—

—“Thanks so much, i really appreciate the words coming from someone like you. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.” —Penta was legit about those words, he was such a humble soul and that made Punk feel like a pervert for imagining him kneeled before him.—

—“Are you always this gentle? Gosh you really are a good soul.” —Punk couldn’t hide a smile this time, putting his hand on Penta’s shoulder, shaking him softly.— “You really don’t have to greet me so much. I really enjoyed this match. You have so much talent, Penta.”

The mexican looked like he got a little shy, staying in silent a couple of seconds, time where Punk took the opportunity to watch him, noticing that the painting on his face was gone and now he could watch those big brown eyes that now looked sweet. Penta really was someone else without all the gear on him.

—“Thanks man.” —Penta smiled a little bit, making something inside Punk twist.—

—“I swear to god… If you say that one more time i will… I don’t know what i could do, honestly.” —His voice sounded deeper, getting a step closer to the mexican. Penta didn’t back up.—

Punk’s fingers couldn’t stop themselves to travel to the masked man’s jaw, leveling up just a bit. At the end their heights weren’t really a problem. Their eyes met and Penta’s tongue wetted his lips, Punk seemed to react happy with that, cause he started to slowly grinning.

—“Punk i-…” —His voice trembled, causing him to feel embarrassed. He felt his face slowly turning red, greeting himself for not taking off his mask before.—

—“Y’know? You have a pretty large tongue…” —Punk whispered with a breathtaking smile that made Penta’s body shake, just a little.—

The mexican could’ve feel the warmth spreading through all his body, taking a deep breath while the other man got closer to his face, even tilting his head a little. His heart stopped the right moment when Punk’s eyes lowered to his lips, completely invading his personal space.

Penta’s hands searched for a grip in Punk’s waist when their lips pressed together, on a shy way, almost like asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Penta answered by opening a little more his mouth, taking Punk inside.

The kiss didn’t last long because a little moan got out from Punk’s mouth when he felt the tongue of Penta caressing his. The american took a little step back, feeling his face burning in embarrassment, he has never been that excited about a kiss.

—“Im sorry i-…” —His voice was deeper than before, provoking Penta to almost throw Punk’s body against the wall.—

—“Uh… We-… Fuck man.” —Penta’s poor english almost disappeared from his mind.—

—“What if… You wait for me and we go to your hotel room?” —Punk tried to persuade him, giving him one of his best flirtatious looks, playing with the shirt of the mexican.—

—“Im going (to) see you with no clothes anyways. I take you to the locker room.” —Penta’s attitude become wilder, possessive. His eyes darkened and the grip around Punk’s waist become tighter.—

Punk seemed to like that, smiling briefly before smashing their lips together one more time, deeper than before, not giving Penta the enough time to react until he was already walking to the locker room.

—“Este cabrón.” —Un gruñido por parte de Penta sonó detrás suyo haciéndolo reír con suavidad.—

—“I heard that. Don’t play too much if you don’t wanna get blue balls, Penta.”—His tone was playful, but Penta could sense that little bit of truth in his voice, keeping in silent until they reach the locker room.—

Penta had to regain his composure when they got into the locker rooms, they weren’t alone in that moment so he couldn’t precisely do what he wanted and relieve the sudden need to touch him as much as he wanted, so he kept his hands on his suitcase.

—“¿Qué sigues haciendo aquí, wey? Pensé qué te ibas a ir a comer, digo, ya que me estuviste chingue y chingue que tenías prisa cuando te dije que te quedes para mi combate. (What are you doing here? I thought you went to have lunch, i mean, you were saying you were on a rush when i asked you to stay for my match.)” —His brother, Fenix, peeked out at the moment he recognize those steps.—

Penta’s attention traveled to the masked guy, smiling almost guilty. A little sting feeling laid on his chest while the shortest guy hugged his companion, and it just intensified when he saw Penta’s posture change completely, seeming more relaxed.

—“Se me olvidó algo… (I forgot something.)” —Penta answered, still in spanish, making Punk more curious about what they were talking.—

—“Mmm… Seguro, seguro. (Right, right.)” —Punk, feeling excluded —and a little jealous— shook his leg, faking a hurting sound while he took his leg. Penta’s attention instantly turned to him.—

—“Ouch…” —Penta stepped a little closer to Punk, getting a little worried.—

—“Is you okay?” —Penta kneeled trying to keep eye contact with the other one, giving himself the freedom to grab Punk’s knee and pulling softly the leg.— “Want me to call the docs?”

The older man shook his head on response, denying any help but the one from the mexican, he wanted his attention fully laid on him.

—“I have some cream for the pain if you want.” —The other masked man talked, getting once again Penta’s attention.—

—“Préstamela wey. Creo que lo golpeé muy fuerte. (Lend it to me, dude. I think i kicked him too hard.) “ —Penta’s voice sounded much softer, causing the american to feel more curious.—

When he noticed from the corner of his sight the other one disappeared, he couldn’t help but to grab Penta’s hand and pull him closer, using his other hand to cup his face and kiss him briefly.

—“Who’s him?” —Punk whispered against his lips before stealing another short kiss from him, moving away before the mexican caught him.—

—“My brother.” —He answered before sliding his hand to Punk’s inner thigh pushing his thumb against his hot skin before going back to the knee.— “Jealous?”

—“Can you blame me? You two hugged and you completely forgot about me.” —Penta smirked at him before cupping his cheek and getting between his legs. His lips caressed before meeting into another slow but passionate kiss.—

Punk felt his entire body trembled, feeling himself melt when his back touched the lockers behind him and Penta’s hand slide to his neck. He could feel the fabric of the mask rub against his nose, itching a little.

The sound of metal closing made them pull away, getting back to their positions with their lips looking a little swollen and a little blush on Punk’s face. Penta really wished they were alone so he could take him in that right moment.

—“Toma, lo vuelves a poner en mi mochila cuando termines. Ya me tengo que ir, ¿te veo para cenar? (Here you go. When you are done put it back in my backpack. See you at dinner?)” —Penta got up and nodded, hugging him and receiving a little kiss on his cheek before watching Fenix running away from the locker room.—

—“He’s my little brother…” —Penta got back to his knees, opening the little tube and putting a considerable amount of gel on his palm before leaving the object on the ground and rub the gel on his palms.— “He’s 6 years less than me.”

—“You mean, 6 years younger.”— Penta nodded while his fingers massaged the thigh of Punk, there where a little bruise started to take some greenish color.— “Close relationship?”

—“Yeah… He is my best friend, my brother, my… My everything.” —Last sentence was almost whispered. Punk felt a little guilty for feeling a little jealous but he forgot when Penta’s fingers touched the right spot and a soft moan left his mouth.—

Penta’s eyes traveled to his face, smiling like a freak and pressing again the same spot, causing the older man to moan in pain again. Punk took his wrist and pushed it before a third time came, making Penta to chuckle.

—“Ugh, motherfucker. Do you get off with this?” —Penta nodded again, standing up while he saw Punk starting to change again.—

He bend to get the little tube and a little smack in his ass surprised him, turning around almost comically and watching Punk smile as he finished to put his shirt on. He shook his head hiding a smile before leaving him alone to get the gel where it belonged and giving him the privacy to change his bottoms.

Penta came back after a couple of seconds, finding Punk already changed and finishing to pack his stuff. The mexican approached him from behind, taking him by the hips and pulling him closer hiding his face on Punk’s neck.

—“I could fuck you in this right moment…” —Penta’s voice ruffled against Punk’s skin, taking out his tongue and having a quick taste of what he was going to eat.—

—“Oh good Lord. Penta if you keep with these games we are not getting to the hotel room.” —Punk’s skin shuddered all over.—

Penta didn’t seem to mind, leading his hands to the american’s chest, squeezing the pair of boobs in his hands, groaning softly on Punk’s ear, kissing behind it. Punk felt the fingers of the masked man caressing his nipples on top of his shirt.

—“P-Penta someone can enter the locker room in any moment.” —Punk whispered feeling wet kisses traveling from his neck to his cheeks.—

—“Sounds exciting.” —Penta whispered before Punk pushed him with his hips, making him back up with a little chuckled, teasing the older one.— “What?”

—“You are a fucking pervert.“ —Punk laughed softly before taking his stuff and walking out with Penta behind him, reaching for Punk’s suitcase and pulling both.— “And a gentleman sometimes. I bet you do this with everyone.”

—“Everyone? You think i do this a lot?” —He chuckled while they got to the parking lot, sneaking out from the other wrestlers arriving.—

—“Well… I dont know. Do you?” —Punk teased a little while they got to his car, getting their stuff in the trunk.— “Don’t they put you a driver?”

—“You think?.” —He laughed and shook his head softly.— “No. Usually i’d wait my brother and leave with him in uber or sometimes Alex gets us to the hotel.” —He answered once they got in Punk’s car.—

Punk just nodded in response, turning the engine on and starting to drive while the mexican guide him, using google maps. The ride til the hotel room of the mexican was more entertaining than what Punk had thought, getting to know him a little more but with at the same time, keeping that flirtatious energy.

By the time they arrived to the hotel room, Penta was already feeling anxious for what could happen, pushing both suitcases inside the room. A little sigh called Punk’s attention, shutting the door behind him.

—“Is always like that? Keeping the mask until you arrive in here?” —Punk followed him closely, watching the mexican sitting on the edge of the bed.—

—“Uh… Not really. Sometimes i get to use just a pair of sunglasses and a face mask. Depends on the day.” —He chuckled while Punk got close enough for him to take him by the hips.— “Curious?”

—“Oh hell yeah.” —He bit his lip, lifting Penta’s head enough to make eye contact. His fingers caressed the details of the mask, those which he hadn’t really noticed on the match.— “But the mask will stay on during sex.”

Penta agreed with no problem, feeling the soft touch of the tips of the fingers traveling to his lips, caressing his lower one, sightly opening his mouth without breaking the eye contact.

He didn’t stopped either, his hands went down on the american’s ass, cupping the ass on his hands and squeezing a little hard, pushing him between his legs.

—“I want you right now.” —Penta said against Punk’s stomach, taking a deep breath to get himself full of his scent, fueling his lungs with that cologne.—

—“Mmmh… You will have to wait, amigo.” —He laughed mockingly, releasing from his grasp and walking towards his suitcase, laying it down to search for some clothing to take a bath.— “Im not fucking you dirty either so…”

—“I already took a shower in the locker room.” —Penta sighed feeling his jeans tighter on the crotch, giving a few squeezes under the sight of the american.— “But i can take another with you.”

—“You wish. Im not taking the risk of getting sore. You better have lube, if not it would be such a shame to leave this for another day.” —Punk throw a kiss before getting into the bathroom, leaving a sexually frustrated Penta on the edge of his bed.—

Penta sighed out loud, laying down in bed while kicking his shoes off. He could feel a little tingle on the tips of his fingers, shaking them to try to scare the feeling away. He felt like a teenager getting hard for a couple of kisses and dirty talk.

Couple of minutes later, the sound of the water running stopped, and the door of the bathroom opening alerted Penta, putting back his mask on.

—“Taking a break?” —Slowly, Penta got on his elbows. His eyes didn’t hesitate to look up and down his companion, enjoying the piece of art he was admiring.—

—“Hmh…” —He nodded without taking his eyes off the older one. Punk let a soft chuckle drying his wet hair with a smaller towel.—

—“Wanna take it off?” —Teasingly Punk walked towards the younger man, keeping a smile that make Penta almost melt in his place.—

—“Of course i want. What kind of question is that?” —He took Punk’s hips strong enough to make him trip and having him on top of his lap, with Punk holding him by the shoulders.—

—“Lord, you are desperate huh?” —Pentagon’s lips started to kiss his neck, giving soft bites to the cinnamon skin, searching with his hands the nod of the towel.— “You still have many clothes on.”

CM Punk complained stopping the fast hands of Pentagon that were about to take off the piece of clothing that covered his nakedness. The Mexican just sighed out loud, making Punk smile while he was positioned on the bed.

Pentagon didn’t hesitate to start taking off his belt, letting it drop to the floor along his shirt that came off too quickly. His movements were fast and steady, unzipping his pants before getting between Punk’s legs.

—“I want you so much.” —Pentagon’s voice sounded ruffled and hot against his neck, following the trail of his apple’s Adam to his lips. His eyes were pleading but didn’t really match the hands that were pulling their bodies to the center of the bed.—

CM Punk felt a sudden heat that made him realized that he was enjoying way too much that attitude from Penta. There was something about those big brown eyes and that voice that made him felt desired, powerful. He didn’t wanted to acknowledge that maybe it was evolving into something else, instead keeping a playful smile and caressing the revealed skin of the latino.

—“Lube is in the first drawer.” —He whispered before starting to attack Punk’s neck with bites, lowering to the chest and playing a little with the nipples, soon having Punk pushing his head against his boobs.—

—“Fuck… Penta.” —A moan escaped from his mouth, pushing his hips up to feel the rubbing of the erection agains the towel, sending a chill down his spine.—

His hand reached the first drawer, trying to get the bottle of lube while he felt the naughty hand of the latino caressing his boner on top of that piece of fabric. He was harder than a rock, and he could feel the smile of Penta against his jaw before sucking a little hickey there.

Once he had the little bottle on his hand he pulled, grabbing whatever was under the bottle and dropping it on the bed next to his body, having his meat getting rubbed with the towel, making him moan out loud at the sensation of his tip against the fabric.

—“D-Don’t do that!” —His face was completely flushed, feeling embarrassed while Penta laughed.— “Keep behaving like that and im leaving you here like that, motherfucker.”

—“Oh c’mon! That was hot baby.” —He winked at the older man, slipping his hand between Punk’s legs, caressing his thighs under the towel and sightly moving his hips side to side to make him open his legs.— “Don’t be shy, i like your moaning.”

—“Oh my… You can’t be this… This shameless!” —Punk face was burning, trying to hold back a nervous laugh.—

Penta’s lips kept a tentative smile, almost mockingly. His hands were holding his thighs open enough for him to press his body semi-naked against him.

—“I can… In fact, im doing it.” —He whispered close to his lips before taking out his tongue and licking his lips on a playful way.—

—“Ugh… You can use it better in other places.” —Punk faked a disgusting face that disappeared the moment when Penta’s hand cupped his meat underneath the towel.—

—“In here, for example?” —He teased while his hand squeezed gently the boner in his palm. His fingers caressed the tip before slowly moving between Punk’s cheeks.— “Or in here?”

Penta’s fingers reached that sacred spot that made Punk almost impossible to not have goosebumps. The older man reached for Penta’s wrist taking it gently and pushing him away.

—“You are NOT pushing those bare fingers in me.” —Punk pushed the tube of lube against Penta’s chest, making him giggle while he grabbed it.— “Put on some lube, would you?”

—“Just because you asked it nicely.” —With his teeth he ripped the plastic of the new bottle before squeezing it on his fingers.—

—“Not my first rodeo… I think i can take it.” —Penta raised his eyebrow suggestive, slowly nodding without really acknowledging Punk’s posture, instead undoing the towel and watching his nakedness.— “Is not fair, you are still dressed!”

—“Not everything in this life is fair, isn’t? Let me handle this, Punk…” —His eyes meet Punk’s ones, almost pledging for it, instantly watching the american’s posture change, turning his head to the side with a soft sigh.—

—“Just… Fucking please me.” —Penta smiled before pushing two of his lubricated fingers into the older one bare back, burying his nose against his neck, sniffing the hot skin and kissing it, biting into the skin.—

His hand reached out for Penta’s head, nudging his fingers against his nape, with the fingers playing on his inside, caressing each centimeter of him and taking away his breath. Penta’s fingers reached too deep in him, making him arch his back when them started to move and push his prostate.

—“Oh m-…Mmh… Penta… Penta…” —His hips unconsciously started moving onto the fingers, fucking himself while the mexican enjoyed biting and sucking the skin, watching the reddish colors he left on the skin.—

—“You are doing so good… Muy bien, precioso, muy bien.” —Punk suddenly felt the hot body on top of him leave him, just fucking himself onto the fingers, making him open his eyes just to find the Luchador jerking himself off at him.—

—“Fuck-Fucking idiot.” —The fingers curved a little and kept pressing against his p-spot, making goosebumps travel all over his body. A little smirk was on Penta’s face, thrusting his fingers into Punk’s insides.—

—“Will see what you say after i start fucking you.” —Punk moaned out loud when his throbbing cock started receiving the attention it needed. Penta’s hand covered almost all the meat, jerking him slowly while his fingers kept moving inside him. All that pleasure was making him melt between sheets, with his breath shaking with each thrust.—

Penta looked amused by the man in front of him, getting harder in his boxers and starting to feel that uncomfortable sensation of his dick asking for attention, until he couldn’t take it no more, suddenly stopping his actions to take out of his jeans his meat, hearing a little humming of disagreement from the other man.

—“I was so close!” —Punk baffled getting in his elbows, instantly spreading his legs while the mexican aligned himself. A hand taking him from the hip while the other one started to introduce him into his insides, again making him fall back on the bed, heavily breathing to relax his body.— “Penta oh g…Lord.”

—“What? Can’t you take it?” —He whispered stopping, watching at the american face, looking for something to worry about.—

—“I-…I can fuck, i can just… Make it quick, for fuck’s sake!” —Penta hold a laugh nodding before lowering his hips a little bit and leave his body cover Punk’s one before thrusting against his ass, watching how the breath left Punk’s lips.— “Oh my goodness, Penta!”

Punk let out a loud sigh, feeling the little kisses of the mexican covering his shoulders trying to make him relax. The tongue of Penta just started making a way to Punk’s lips, licking all the way over the hickey he had left, through his mouth, smiling innocently while Punk complained.

—“Ugh… You are like a… Dog.” —Punk whispered, taking his hands behind Penta’s neck, getting him closer to his mouth.— “My dog.”

—“I can be whatever you want me to be.” —Penta answered starting to move his hips slowly back and forward, with a hitch breath between words, trying to keep silent to hear Punk moan.—

—“Fuck Penta… You can’t say that while fucking me like this.” —He moaned pressing their foreheads together, feeling the fabric agains his skin.— “Penta…”

His fingers traveled to the laces on the back of the mask, finding them already untied and sneaking his fingers under the mask, feeling the nape tense sightly. He dug his fingers on the skin, feeling how the movements started taking a faster pace, sightly moving the bed.

Pace started to get rougher, faster and definitely more aggressive, digging his fingers in the skin of the hips of the american. Their mouths were kissing like two desperate teenagers, biting and sucking all they could take, hearing the wet sounds of their mouths devouring each other.

Hands were going up and down in their bodies, caressing the nakedness, Punk was touching and trying to memorize the pattern of the scars on the body of Penta. On the other hand, the touch of Penta wasn’t so hungry, it was more steady, firmly taking the body of Punk and keeping him pinned down to the mattress.

Moans were drowned in each others mouth’s, Penta enjoying how his mouth got eaten so effortlessly by the other man while he kept digging himself on his insides, every time getting closer to their orgasms.

—“Oh… Oh fuck Penta! D-Don’t stop!” —Punk’s voice sounded softer than ever, making him smile. He could felt his lips a little swollen, licking the saliva off them.—

Punk’s short nails were digging into his nape to the point were he could feel his skin burning a little, getting him even more excited, letting out a soft moan. Punk didn’t let that slip, traveling his hands to get more steadiness to Penta’s back, going back to his mission but getting a little distracted by the fact that his legs were already shaking and his insides started to feel more and more sensitive, having to tighten his grip and digging the skin.

The sightly sting on his skin was pushing him to his climax, but he knew he wasn’t the only one getting closer to the end of the pleasure, he could feel the insides getting tighter and warmer, squeezing him between those walls.

His lips caressed the others softly before kissing him shortly, before their moment got interrupted by a long moan and a messy shot of cum that covered their stomach’s. Penta couldn’t stopped himself from finishing, not with the inside of Punk squeezing him like he wanted to keep him there.

—“P-Punk…” —A soft moan calling his name made him lower his eyes, meeting Penta’s face, still covered by that stupid mask.—

—“Fuck it.” —He whispered for himself before taking off Penta’s mask and shoving his face to his neck, caressing the curled hair.— “I thought it’ll be probably uncomfortable for you…”

—“Heh…Thanks.” —Penta’s voice sounded softer, and his entire weight was covering his body, not that he minded anyways, he understood they were tired. At the end of the day, both just had an exhausting day.—

—“You should rest… You still have to go to dinner with your brother.” —Punk whispered without stopping to caress Penta’s hair. Penta couldn’t stop himself from looking confused at Punk.— “What? Rey Mysterio taught me a little spanish.”

—“You are… Unbelievable.” —He rolled his eyes before snugging his face again into Punk’s neck.—

Punk let out a chuckle, feeling the arms of Penta surround his waist and switching their positions, ending with Punk on top of him and Penta laid down. Punk raised and eyebrow, sitting on Penta lap, without getting his hands off his body.

—“What?” —Punk asked without taking his eyes off the, now unmasked, luchador.—

—“We should enjoy the time we have left together, you know…” —His hands didn’t hesitate on caressing the legs of the american.—

—“Wha-…Aren’t you tired?!” —Punk’s surprised expression made Penta chuckle a little, but shaking his head as in ‘no’.—

“Oh man, where did i get into?”