#wwe ship

🖤🩸🖤🩸

Punk feels the weight of the day settle into him. The jet lag that still hasn’t fully settled down, the ache in his bones that follows a hard fought bout. He’d showered off the sweat and blood that had covered him post-match at the arena, so now as he boards the elevator up to his hotel room he looks forward to just crashing into the comfort of his bed.

He checks his phone again, flicking through his social media profiles, trying to convince himself he’s just passing time and not looking for one name in particular.

Still nothing.

He’d figured Drew would have something to say by now, but he reminds himself that it doesn’t really matter. He meant what he said to Cathy backstage. With the bracelet back, Drew is in the past. It’s time to get back to what he’s really desired since he came back to the WWE, a world title.

The elevator comes to a stop, and with a soft chime the door opens to his floor. Punk takes a few steps out and rounds the corner before he stops dead in his tracks.

Well so much for him being in the past.

Down the hall sitting against the door to his hotel room is unmistakably Drew, though his face is covered by his dark hair and a hoodie.

His heart rate picks up, dumb he thinks since he kicked this guys ass just a few hours ago. With the bracelet back on his wrist, he doesn’t have anything to fear from Drew now.

He contemplates saying something, calling out before approaching, but if he knows Drew he’s already noticed his presence in the hallway. Probably clocked him by smell alone when the elevator doors opened.

Punk takes a breath and strides forward. Drew doesn’t look up.

“Hey,” He nudges Drew’s shin with the toe of his shoe. “Ain’t you got somewhere else to be man? You’re really not beating the whole obsessed with me allegations doin’ shit like this-“

The joke dies on his tongue as Drew finally looks up. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, but they’re more lifeless than he’s ever seen. It’s unnerving to see that look on Drew, those insanely blue eyes of his usually are so lit up, full of fire when they gaze upon him.

He should be happy, should be proud to have beaten the fight out of this man that’s wished him harm for months on end. But somehow he can’t find it in himself to be pleased about what he sees.

“Did ya mean it?” Drew’s words are soft, barely audible even in the quiet of the hallway. “What ya said?”

So he did see that.

Punk fishes in his pocket for his key card, unlocks the door and steps inside, holding the door open.

“Come inside, man. Let’s talk.”

Drew looks frustrated, but stands all the same and follows Punk inside.

Punk motions him to the chair and takes a seat on the king size bed. Drew looks uncomfortable and out of place here, almost like a caged animal. His eyes drift to Punk’s wrist, where the bracelet falls down his arm, elastic worn out.

Punk sighs, “Listen, this has been fun and everything-“ Putting it mildly ”But I came back to WWE with a goal in mind. And you said after Summerslam, you wanted to put this rivalry behind you too, so…”

Drew’s eyes slowly moved to meet his. “Aye, but I still had the bracelet then.”

“Meaning?”

“I still had a piece of you.” Some of the fire that Punk has come to know so well returns to Drew’s face.

He can’t deny the thrill that runs through him, but he doesn’t want to give Drew the satisfaction.

“C’mon, isn’t there anything else you wanna do? You could go after Gunther, he’s been a pain in your ass before.” The words are hollow and unconvincing, even to himself.

Drew shakes his head. “I don’t want anyone else, don’t ya get it? I need you. All the years I’ve been workin’ here, I’ve never had a fraction of the success as I’ve had chasing you.”

Punk scoffs, “You know that’s not how this business works.”

“It is when you’re CM bloody Punk!” Drew spits venomously, getting worked up. He takes a few breaths before continuing. “That’s not all though.”

Something settles over Drew’s face, a steely determination. He slowly descends to the floor, eyes never leaving Punk, watching his reaction. Drew crawls toward him on his hands and knees, calling to Punk’s mind his display at Wrestlemania. He fights to keep his face neutral, unsure of Drew’s angle here.

The Scotsman crawls right up to the side of the bed, resting back on his heels and staring up at him. His hands hover above Punk’s knees, so close to touching.

“I could feel ya,” He says, voice thick and low. “In the ring, you were- you cannot lie to me now, I know you desire this too.”

His big hands finally touch Punk’s skin, and it sends a shock through Punk’s system that rivals any smack from the strap he received earlier.

Almost on auto-pilot his hands move, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Drew’s ear before burying his hands into the dark strands. Drew can’t take all the power here, this is a delicate dance they’ve been doing together.

“Could you blame me, seeing you like that?” He leans forward, bringing their faces close. “It was intoxicating.”

Punk feels his dick filling again, as it had in the ring. Something about seeing Drew McIntyre on his knees just drives him wild, and he’s tired of denying it.

Drew’s eyes catch the tenting of his shorts, and he grins, letting his hands drift up to Punk’s thighs. “Ya gonna make me beg for it?”

“You know what? I think I will.” Punk leans back, removing one hand from Drew’s hair so he can unbutton his shorts. “Tell me how badly you’ve wanted this.”

His hand cups his growing erection, and he’s not sure who groans louder, him or Drew. It’s the arm that bears the bracelet, stretched out now as it is.

Drew’s hand reaches for it, holding on to the beads and the skin beneath them, pulling both towards his face. His tongue, thick and pink, licks at the plastic. “When I had this, any moment I wasn’t in the ring or in the gym, I was touchin myself, pretendin’ it was you. Done much filthier things than just keepin’ it in me briefs.”

Punk pulls his free hand from Drew’s hair to his chin, grip tight. “Go on.”

“All I could think about, all the time.” Drew let go of his arm and began unzipping the hoodie, revealing bare skin beneath. “Like you were my own personal demon, tempting me into filth and sin.” The fabric drops to the floor, and Punk drinks in the sight of Drew’s skin covered in welts.

His masterpiece.

“In locker rooms, behind hotel doors, wherever I could get even a glimpse of privacy. It got risky, when I’d moan yer name in the showers, three fingers shoved in my arse and tuggin my dick. D’ya know how embarrassin’ that is?”

Drew unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down his thighs, exposing the thick length of him. Punk figured he’d be packing, but it’s different when faced with all 8 inches of angry red cock. He feels his mouth water.

“You think you deserve to have me? The best in the world?” Punk can’t help but poke at the bear.

“No,” Drew growls. “I deserve better, but yer gonna fuck me anyway. Cause yer just as sick as I am.”

“Damn straight,” Punk laughs. “Get on the bed before I change my mind. No clothes- I wanna see every mark I’ve put on you.”

Drew groans, but does as he’s asked, rising from his knees before kicking out of his jeans.

Punk stands on wobbly feet, moving to his duffel to retrieve the bottle of lube he keeps tucked away inside.

He watches Drew settle on the bed, admires what a pretty picture he makes on his hands and knees, hole peeking out between the meat of his thick cheeks.

Punk quickly divests himself of his clothes, but grabs one more item from his bag before returning to the bed.

He rubs a soothing hand through the soft hair that coats Drew’s upper thighs and ass, giving one cheek a light squeeze. The pale untouched skin stands in contrast to the red lines that cover his back and torso.

Punk can’t leave the job unfinished.

His fingers tighten around the leather belt he’d pulled from the bag.

SMACK

Red blooms, leaving an imprint on Drew’s ass as the man writhes and groans, biting into a pillow to contain his scream.

Punk watches Drew’s cock drip precum pathetically, dripping onto the sheets below.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, running his thumb along the mark.

Drew pants, muscles tensing. “You didn’t get enough of that earlier?”

“I missed a spot, that’s all.” He lets his fingers wander to Drew’s crack, already a little slick with sweat. He teases along the furl of Drew’s asshole, petting at the damp hair that surrounds it, taking in the earthy masculine scent.

No way Drew showered after their match, smelling this rank. But Punk wouldn’t have him any other way.

He sucks his thumb into his mouth, coating it with some saliva.

“You fall asleep back there, Punker?” Drew huffs impatiently.

Punk changes his mind, and spits on his pointer and middle fingers instead before plunging them inside of Drew’s hole. He doesn’t meet much resistance, but the Scotsman howls anyway, and its music to his ears.

He takes his time, exploring the soft squishy heat of Drew’s insides, marveling at how easily his body yields for him, the way his walls cling to his fingers when he pulls them out.

It’s like Drew was made for him specifically, nothing feels more natural.

He adds his ring finger inside, watches in fascination as his rim stretches to accept it. A thought crosses his mind and he can’t help but indulge himself, pulling his fingers free and watching Drew’s hole wink before replacing his fingers with his mouth.

Punk licks around the rim before sinking his tongue inside, giving it a filthy kiss. He savors the salty sweet earthy taste of his opponent, his nemesis, his lover. Drew’s thighs shake and tremble beneath him, his moans unintelligible.

He comes up for air, licking at his lips as he watches Drew’s cock weep.

Punk’s own dick is aching and hard between his legs, completely neglected this far. He palms it before grabbing the lube, drizzling some on his dick and spreading it over his length.

He nestles himself between Drew’s cheeks, rutting in his crack.

Drew keens, hips rocking back in frustration. “Are ya gonna fuck me or not, ya daft bastard?”

Punk reaches forward and wraps his fingers in the hair at the base of Drew’s neck, giving it a tug. Drew’s back bows beautifully, arching back to him, allowing him to breathe his next words into Drew’s ear.

“Be patient, or you won’t be getting my dick at all.” He takes a moment to nip at Drew’s earlobe, just hard enough to sting. “Now flip over, I wanna see your face as I fuck you.”

Drew wastes no time in flipping over, legs flopping open creating the perfect space for Punk to fill.

Punk grabs the closest pillow to him and motions Drew’s hips up, stuffing the pillow under. His knees will thank him later.

The action causes the bracelet to slide back down his arm to his wrist. The way this thing is stretched out now it moves all over the place, but it gives him an idea.

He hooks his thumb under the beads, stretching it over his knuckles until it dangles free. Punk grins, watching the way Drew’s eyes follow each swaying movement.

Punk lifts one of Drew’s legs, almost like he’s going for a pin, but instead of applying pressure he lets the dangling beads brush up against Drew’s skin. He moves slowly, sensually, watching the plastic catch on the thick body hair that covers Drew’s body.

When he gets to the soft skin at Drew’s hip, the heat of Drew’s cock draws him like a magnet. His own cock throbs, and he adjusts his hips to rub their lengths together before wrapping his hand around them both. He keeps his grip loose with the bracelet between his fingers, rolling the beads around the sensitive flesh.

Drew’s head falls back against the pillow as he mewls in pleasure at the sensation, and Punk chokes back a cry at finally getting some action on his dick. A mix of their precum coats the beads, leaving them slick and sticky in Punk’s palm.

“Open up,” Drew obeys for once without complaint, jaw going slack and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth, ready to receive whatever Punk wants to give him.

Punk lets the bracelet hang a few inches above Drew’s waiting mouth, watches as a drop forms and falls before landing on Drew’s tongue and he moans, tasting both of them together.

Fuck it.

He lets the bracelet fall into Drew’s mouth, the beads obscured by his tongue suckling up their combined juices.

It’s obscene. It should be revolting, but he has to concentrate for a moment to keep himself from coming before he can even get inside Drew. He reaches inside Drew’s mouth and takes the bracelet back, sliding it back onto his wrist.

Drew’s face is a mix of confusion and indignant anger and hunger, and before Punk knows what his next move is, he smashes their lips together.

It’s like an extension of their matches, desperate and intense. Their tastes are mixed between their mouths as their tongues knock into each other and intertwine.

Punk’s not sure how long the kiss lasts, he finally breaks to come up for air, unable to wait any longer to finally get inside Drew.

“You ready for the real thing?” He grins, holding himself up and adjusting his hips.

Drew stares up at him with stars in those deep blue eyes and nods. If only Punk had known that this is how to shut the damn Scot up he’d have done this ages ago.

He presses inside, reveling in the tight heat of Drew’s body as it welcomes him in. They fit together like puzzle pieces, like this space inside of Drew was made for him to fill.

Punk draws his hips back slowly, savoring each inch.

“So fuckin’ tight for me,” he grits out. “You a virgin Drew? Anybody else ever fuck you like this?”

He watches Drew’s cheeks turn pink, expression soft. “Aye, I mean I’ve buggered myself, but no one else. Only you.” It’s punctuated by a broken moan as Punk drills inside of him again.

The thought that no one else has ever explored Drew this way, that this is a side of the other man that is only for him, it drives Punk wild, snapping his hips in a rough and unforgiving rhythm.

He wants to devour and destroy Drew, mark him as his own, ruin him for anyone else that might come along and try to take the man from him.

Punk buries his face into Drew’s neck teeth first, biting and sucking at the fragile skin. His hips still humping away at Drew’s hole as he tastes the metallic tang of blood and sweat.

He’s getting close, each depraved act heating up the liquid fire in his gut that aches to fill Drew completely.

His hand moves to grab onto Drew’s cock, giving the hard flesh a few rough tugs. “Mine- you’re mine, fucker. You gonna come for me?”

Drew’s hot breath fills the space between them. “Aye, but yer mine too. Don’t even think about goin’ after anyone else.”

“Never,” Punk sighs, knowing that it’s the truth. “Nobody could understand like you.”

Drew yanks him down by the back of his neck for another bruising kiss, teeth cutting into his bottom lip. The stinging pain combined with the moans Drew makes directly into his mouth sends Punk hurtling over the edge, cock pulsing deep inside.

He releases Drew’s cock and presses his hand against the soft swell of Drew’s stomach, petting the soft hair. He imagines he can feel the heat of his come, marking the Scot just as thoroughly on the inside as he has on the outside.

“You feel my come inside of you? Is it everything you wanted?” He grinds his still pulsating dick, the slide just edging towards too much.

His vision is torn between Drew’s face and his cock as he shatters around him. Cock shooting cum all over his torso, head thrown back in rapture.

Drew’s ass is trying to milk every last drop out of him. Punk huffs a laugh, of course the greedy bitch can’t ever be satisfied.

He lets his hands wander over Drew’s chest, smearing the drying come into his skin as the man breathes through the remnants of his orgasm.

Punk’s softened dick flops out of the warmth of Drew’s hole, and he shudders through a cold chill. He puts on his best shit-eating grin for Drew, who looks peeved at the mess that’s left on his chest.

“So how’d it feel having the best in the world?”

“Fuck you, Punk.”