#darpunk

When Darby had first told Punk he enjoyed to wear skirts around the house, he didn’t expect his boyfriend to enjoy it as much as he did. Occasionally, he would press against him, run his fingers over his waist and slide his hands down to move under his skirt. More often than he would admit, he would glance his way to watch Darby as he bent over to grab something.

Punk did love to see him in a skirt and he loved it even more when Darby would decide against wearing underwear. Like today. Punk watched him get dressed that morning, stripping out of his baggy pyjamas to pull on one of Punk’s shirts and slipping on a black skirt without worrying about anything it go underneath. So, Punk followed him out of bed shortly to join his boyfriend in the kitchen who was making them both coffee. It was early and he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself knowing Darby had nothing under his pretty little skirt.

“Morning.” Punk muttered, placing his hands on Darby’s hips as he began to leave scattered kisses over his neck, making the shorter man practically purr as he mumbled a reply. Before Darby knew it, Punk had gently pushed him down against the counter by his shoulder, making him lean over to give Punk better access to what he wanted. Flipping his skirt up, he practically drooled at the sight and didn’t waste a second to drag his tongue over his fingers to slick them enough to press inside of Darby without the other wincing.

Darby gasped and moaned as Punk moved his fingers inside of him, curling and scissoring the digits that would brush against the sweet spot of the man just right, making a shudder run down his spine. As pretty as his moans were and how incredibly sexy he looked like this, Punk couldn’t take it much longer. With a tug of his sweats, he replaced the digits and while Darby did whine at the loss for a second, his eyes had practically rolled in the back of his head when he felt the head of his boyfriend’s cock shove inside.

Heat radiated off their bodies, a thin sheet of sweat coating Punk’s body as he fucked into Darby and took in all his beautiful noises that mixed with the sound of skin slapping on skin. As Darby’s thighs began to tremble and his legs were about to give out underneath him, Punk grabbed his waist and yanked him back against his cock to finish off inside of him without warning as a curse fell from his lips.

“You gonna cum for me?” Punk muttered against Darby’s ears, his hips still moving and his hand lazily pumping his boyfriend’s cock to help him along. But Darby couldn’t seem to form a sentence anymore, only nodding his head frantically as a silent way of asking for more. Punk’s movements quickened slightly and just as he started to become sensitive, he felt Darby clench around him as his body tense for a moment, thick white streaks ruining the inside of his skirt.

“You’re buying me a new skirt, you jerk.” Darby panted softly with a smile, leaning back to press against Punk’s chest and press a rough kiss to his lips.

A loud curse escaped Darby’s lips right after Punk had landed a hard hit to his inner thigh, the sound of leather against skin echoing in his ears. He instinctively wanted to close his legs, but he couldn’t with the restraints around his ankles, soft cuffs that held a bar to keep him from doing so. His thighs were turning red, the pale skin turning bright so quickly after just a few hits of the paddle and Punk clearly had no intention of stopping until Darby needed him to.

“Fuck!” Darby cried out, another hit landing on a sensitive area that Punk had been working on. He put his cuffed hands over his face, wiping the drool from his lip. He could barely take a breather before the sting of pain would meet him again.

“Do you need me to —“ Punk could barely even get out the question, but Darby frantically shook his head. He knew that he would ask if he needed to stop or take a break, but Darby didn’t want that, despite the hollers of pain and cursing.

“Daddy, please..” It was all Darby had to say for Punk to start up again. It was quicker, but not as hard, although it was hard to notice when the pain was constant. It hummed and burned under his skin, making his spine tingle and thighs shake a little. His cries shifted to moans when he felt light touches against his cock, fingertips moving almost gracefully. And it drove Darby up the wall.

After a session or two with Darby, Punk knew how to get under his skin and make him feel just right. He knew how to make Darby’s body shake, to get him to whimper and cry. It was music to his ears and just seeing him like this compared to how he was in the ring was enough to get to him. With his hits a little harder and his hand moving at a gentle pace against Darby’s length, Darby’s noises told it all. He was close and Punk just couldn’t let that happen, not yet anyway. He pulled his hand back and tossed the paddle aside, looking down at Darby who looked just as desperate as he sounded.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, curled up in the corner and sniffling, roughly wiping his tears to force away those feelings for just a little while longer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his emotions forced down for long, but he didn’t want to let everything out. Not just yet. Not while he was alone. Darby jumped, a little startled at the sound of the door opening and heavy panting breaking the silence of the room. He didn’t notice he had missed Punk’s match.

“Hello?” Punk called out when he heard the sniffling and saw Darby’s converse pulled back to hide in his little corner area. He stepped over to look down at the younger man, who immediately cowered when he was spotted and muttered a soft ‘hey’, tugging at the strands of his shorts.

“Are you okay, baby?” The question had officially broke Darby. Something about the concern and care in Punk’s voice had broken the damn door that held back those overwhelming emotions and he couldn’t stop it. His eyes filled with tears and spilled over, leaving wet streaks over his cheeks as he choked back a sob.

“Hey .. hey .. calm down.” Punk bent down to gently lift Darby up, carefully holding him close to his chest. He sat down with the boy in his lap, gently rubbing his back. He let Darby cry, his sobs racking in his ribs and making his chest sore, but he couldn’t stop it.

“I know you’re upset right now, Darb, but it’s okay. You fought hard and you did —“ Darby pulled away from Punk’s chest immediately, knowing he was about to give him the whole ‘you did your best’ speech.

“Didn’t fight hard enough!” Darby argued through tears, before whipping his head away and chewing on the tip of his thumb as nervous habit, staring at his lap.

“That’s not true. You can’t push yourself too hard or else you’ll hurt yourself. You did the best you could do and I’m so proud of you. You were like a little firecracker out there and you kicked his ass.” Darby seemed to perk up a little at the mention of Punk being proud of him. He glanced up at Punk, allowing the man to carefully wipe away the stray tears and wet marks on his cheeks. Darby wrapped his arms around Punk’s shoulders and hugged him close, burying his face into his neck which made the man chuckle.