#cmrollintyre

So they perform.

Really, he couldn't trace back to the start of this if you asked him to. The first time a bloody and bruised threesome turned to it just being Drew and Seth fucking while Punk watched from the edge of the bed. And there was intent as he watched, focusing, razors edge sharp.

Their voices, their bodies, their motions- just for the two of them at the start. Now it's for him as well. The way they move and angle their bodies and spit disdain and raunchiness, for him and for them.

A shared pleasure in watching Seth heel like the dog he is. A shared pleasure in watching Drew be tamed and forced down into submission. A shared pleasure in being told to behave because Punk is watching.

Again, and again, till right now where Seth has his hands in Drew's hair and yanks. The moan is exaggerated but it doesn't make the sound any less sultry, any less gratifying, any less delectable. He sounds so good like this.

Fucked into the couch. On display. Being pushed down, down, down, until he is less then dirt only for one night. Seething and groaning and biting back at Seth's words the way he always does with a far more debauched intonation.

And Seth too, he sounds amazing right now. Even if he will curbstomp Punk, regardless of the fact he can and will dig right under his skin with a smug look on his face- there's something undeniably rich about his tone right now. He makes a demand and it works regardless of if over-exertion is getting to him. The firmness to his breathy speech gets across, makes Punk shiver, just a bit.

He's not sure if it'd be better or worse if he was being talked down by Seth when he's talking like that.

Punk circles like a hawk tonight. Seth and Drew fuck on a couch. He gets a better view like this anyways, clearer angles on one side then the other, but so much easier to be at eye level with Drew if he wants to. See those pretty, pretty eyes glazed over with pleasure.

It's easier to admire them, the way the muscles move under the skin, the intent behind their motions. Although, it's mostly Seth doing the work this time. Drew just lay prone taking it like a bitch, and loving every second of it if his voice is a good tell to go off of. If it is then he's really liking this, more so then being the one on top with all the control.

When Punk comes to a halt he's leaned against the back of the couch, chin resting on crossed arms. "Choke him." It's a simple notion. He whispers it, words carried on an exhale.

It flips a switch in Seth's brain and he has his hands on Drew's throat, not for more than a few seconds. Just long enough for that delicious gasp to spill from his lips before he lets go. He goes back again, laying down pressure and watching as Drew digs into the fabric of the couch. He could easily break out of the grip, he lets it happen, he can feel the searing gaze of Punk in the back of his head.

When Seth loosens his grip again he lets Drew struggle for air. Choked gasps follow suite, Seth doesn't bother to stop fucking him. His nails dig deep into the flesh of Drew's back, leaving bright red agitated lines.

"Go on," Punk urged, in that same whispering hush of a tone that bypassed Seth's cognitive functions, "Make him bleed, he looks so pretty when he bleeds."

"Seth, don't you dare-!" A sharply intoned hiss cuts him short as his flesh is clawed at. Trying to leave him wide open, gaping and oozing blood.

Punk doubles down, grinning with euphoria, "Do it. He can take a week off. Bite him."

And Seth does.

Drew sounds so fucking pretty when he bleeds. The noises, pained and horny and mixing and melding into one tone as his body tenses. It's a sound with layers of intensity he'd love to hear on repeat forever, it almost swallowed the weak orgasmic moan from Seth.

But Punk caught it. So small, there's depth to it, low and long and guttural but not loud and gnarled like you'd expect of someone so flamboyant and noisy everywhere else. Punk drinks up that sound like fine wine, relishing every single second of it. There's finality to it, especially with the way his body shakes in a rush of euphoria.

Punk has the guts to reach out and ruffle up Seth's hair. "Good boy."

Seth just moans.

He steps closer to where Drew lay, head planted on the armrest.

"You're a dick." Drew hisses the words, still bleeding. His voice sounds perfectly violent. He can't do anything to follow through on the vicious undertone of how he speaks though.