#i need his hot ass unshaved

[fullsole]

while mark is sucking your clit, you can feel his unshaved face graze you.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Punishment chapter 3

Note: as promised, a smutty follow up to the second, rather angsty, chapter. I really had fun creating this one today, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

chapter 1 - chapter 2 

Warnings: 18+!! smut. doms/sub dynamic, light degrading.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f) x Modern!Masema

summary: Months had passed since your failed attempt to take control of your doms, but you took your chance again.

wordcount: 3k

Masterlist

The bedroom was filled with heavy breaths and the occasional groans and grunts, all sounds coming from your doms, while the curtains were open and the setting sun lit up the room with a cosy orange glow. The chains of handcuffs rattled against the bed's metal frame, accompanied by the sound of a bell that was attached to a collar, and rang with every movement that was made by its wearer.

Masema and Sihtric were both shirtless, left in just their jeans, and their bodies were a sight you could never tire of. Both men were muscular and their skin, covered with a faint layer of sweat, glistened beautifully in the sunlight.

Sihtric's curls on the unshaved side of his head were messy. Your hands had raked through his locks not long ago when you had dry humped him in an attempt to rile him up, and with success. Almost immediately after you lifted your shirt up slightly, to grind your soaking wet panties against him as he sat down on the floor, you felt his cock twitch against your core while it was trapped tightly in his jeans. Your soft dom could only groan as he watched you ride him without full contact, and he was desperate to fuck each of your holes.

Masema's hair was, surprisingly, still fully slicked back and kept in place by his top knot, even though he had been all but calm with you. You had contemplated pulling out his hair tie, as you loved the way his hair fell in his face when things got hot and heavy, but you had decided against it. You just wanted to see his pretty and unscarred face today, and in return Masema would need a clear look at you all the same. And the dangerous look in his mismatched eyes told you he had a clear view all too well while you were grinding down on Sihtric, who was on the opposite side of the bed… handcuffed to the bed's foot while Masema was handcuffed to the other, both seated on the bedroom floor and both wearing a black collar with a little bell attached to it. And if you would ask them how you had managed to overpower them both and chain them up, they would never have an answer for you, because it had all happened so fast.

Sihtric groaned as you sat on his lap again, and he tried to shake off the black fluffy cat ears you had just placed on his head, but you scolded him for the attempt.

'No!' you said with pout, and adjusted the ears, 'I wear them for you, daddy, now you wear them for me.'

Sihtric didn't respond, he merely sighed and just accepted the dress up. You then took the cap off the eyeliner you had stolen from his bathroom drawer, but before you could use the black pencil, Masema's snort from across the bed made you snap your head towards him.

'What's so funny?' you hissed, 'I picked out ears for you too, Sir.'

'And I will not be wearing those,' Masema said, convinced of his own words.

'We'll see,' you smiled, then brought your attention back to Sihtric, who's arousal was still pressing up against you.

You deliberately wiggled your ass while you straddled him, earning a few strangled moans which pleased you just right, and you then took his chin while you brought the eyeliner pencil up to his face.

'I'm already wearing that,' he frowned, confused, but he soon realised the eyeliner was not meant for his eyes.

Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle when he felt how you made three lines on his cheek as you giggled. And because he was so incredibly in love with you, and would honestly allow you to do anything to him, he didn't even attempt to fight it. He watched you with smitten eyes and a soft smile instead, as you drew three whiskers on his other cheek too, and his erection became even more painful as his lust slowly made place for love. And how desperately he wanted to make love to you right now, it was almost unbearable. He was only rudely disturbed from his love bubble when Masema suddenly scoffed and shook his head, while you sat back to look at your art on Sihtric's pretty face.

'You're an embarrassment of a dom, did you know that?' Masema said and side-eyed Sihtric, who glared at Masema in return while wearing the fluffy black ears with a matching collar.

Masema made a face, as he could not take Sihtric seriously by any means right now, and he rolled his eyes at the big push over that his boyfriend was.

'I think you are the cutest cat, daddy,' you smiled at Sihtric and kissed the tip of his nose, 'and I love you.'

'I love you too, princess,' Sihtric smiled proudly and head over heels, and he even felt a slight pout appear on his face when you moved away from him.

You grabbed the fluffy pink cat ears you had picked for your hard dom, and you moved to his side of the bed. Masema loved you deeply and with every fibre of his being, but he was not going to surrender to your shenanigans like Sihtric had done. He vigorously shook his head when you straddled his lap and held up the fluffy ears, and you struggled to take his chin to hold him still. Masema huffed and flared his nostrils once you managed to slip the headband on, but even he wasn't immune to the soft and truly happy giggle you let out when you looked at him.

'Don't even think about it!' he growled when you brought the eyeliner to his face, 'I said don't-'

You silenced him by placing your hand over his mouth, and you grinned as you quickly drew the cat whiskers on his cheeks. To finish it off, you drew a tiny heart on the tip of his nose, much to his disgrace, but to yours and Sihtric's pleasure.

'Sir is such a grumpy cat,' you chuckled as you booped his nose with your finger, 'boop!'

Masema let out a low grunt to your sweet yet mocking touch, and he snapped his head towards Sihtric after he had chuckled at him.

'There's nothing funny about this!' Masema hissed at Sihtric.

'You look cute though,' Sihtric shrugged and winked.

Masema huffed and clenched his jaw in response while his eyes remained fixated on Sihtric, and he then sighed loudly.

'Thanks,' Masema mumbled, 'you look cute too, babe.'

'Awh, thanks,' Sihtric smiled proudly again, and his cheeks coloured a shade of red while the sun had fully set by now.

You took Masema's face and brought his attention back to you.

'I love you, Sir,' you whispered sweetly and pecked his lips.

'Hm,' Masema chuckled softly against your lips, 'I love you too, sweetheart,' he murmured and kissed you with a sudden hunger, his tongue deep in your mouth while your nails nearly dug in his cheeks.

You began to grind against him, enjoying the feeling of his hard and twitching cock through his jeans, just like you had felt with Sihtric, and you relished in the knowledge you had such power over your doms, tied up or not.

Sihtric cleared his throat, 'So, where the hell is my kiss?' he asked with resentment in his voice, 'I only got a kiss on the nose.'

Masema reluctantly broke the sloppy kiss and glared at Sihtric, his eyes telling the soft dom he wasn't pleased with his complaint.

'You're a cute cat,' Masema said with a snappy tone, 'and clearly I'm the hot cat,' he added with a cocky smile.

'You're a mean cat,' Sihtric muttered, his eyes squinted and nose scrunched up to show his bitterness.

'And you're a jealous cat,' Masema retorted, then hissed under his breath, 'a jealous pussy cat.'

'Fuck you, Mas!' Sihtric growled, and he tugged at the handcuffs, rattling the chain around the bed while he bared his teeth at his sudden rival.

'Oh, I'll fuck you!' Masema barked, 'I'll fuck you good, baby boy, just the way you like it. That's all it takes to put you back in your place!'

'Suck my fucking cock!' Sihtric snarled and rolled his eyes.

Masema became quiet, and there was a fire burning in his eyes which you had never seen before, a fire so bright and immensely passionate, it almost scared you. He had never been this worked up before, his cock constantly twitching against your panties while he bickered with your shared boyfriend, who he had been with before you came into their lives. You suddenly got a glimpse into the relationship they had before you, and you never really realised that their dynamic had been the same when they were just the two of them together; Masema a hard dom and a dominant through and through, while Sihtric, the soft dom, could easily and happily switch to a submissive brat.

Masema kept his eyes on Sihtric, who now looked down at the ground.

'Watch your tone, kitten,' Masema commanded, 'and that attitude.'

'Or else?' Sihtric scoffed, his eyes still fixated on the floor.

'Look at me when you speak to me,' Masema said calmly, but his threatening tone was felt in the room, 'and show some respect.'

Sihtric looked up at Masema, with mischief set in his eyes, and he challenged his authority by sitting up straight with his chin up.

'Or else, Sir?' Sihtric dared him, raising his eyebrow playfully.

'Or else,' Masema said firmly, 'I won't suck your cock, darling.'

You swallowed hard while feeling all aroused at the sight of your boyfriends challenging each other, and your need for them became insufferable. But you couldn't give in, you had gotten them to this point and you could not crumble at their feet now, no matter how badly you wanted it. No matter how badly you wanted them. 

After a lingering silence you cleared your throat, drawing their attention back to you.

'No one is going to get fucked,' you said as you pointed towards Sihtric, and then pressed your index finger against Masema's chest, 'and no one's cock will get sucked either! Instead,' you scoffed and got up from his lap, 'the only one who will feel pleasure today, is me.'

You flicked on the lights and grabbed your vibrator, as well as a ballgag and the nipple clamps which had ruined your last dominant experience. You threw the vibrator on the floor, out of reach for both men, and you neared Sihtric first, whose eyes widened as he saw you close in with those nipple clamps.

'N-no,' Sihtric struggled against the bed and rattled the handcuffs, 'no!'

'Don't be silly,' you chuckled, 'the clamps are not for you, I promise.'

Sihtric's eyes were still wide, but he calmed down instantly, knowing he was safe with you and that you would never repeat that mistake again.

'The ballgag however,' you grinned and kneeled down in front of him, 'I don't want to hear you two argue anymore,' you said and pushed the ball in his mouth.

Sihtric said something, but it was muffled and inaudible, and he watched you move away from him with the nipple clamps.

'These,' you smiled and held up the clamps to Masema before you kneeled down, 'are for you, Sir.'

'You know I like those,' Masema furrowed his brow, 'that's not a punishment, sweetheart.'

'I know,' you giggled and placed the first clamp on his sensitive flesh, 'it's not supposed to be a punishment.'

You enjoyed placing the other clamp on his chest while Masema bit back a heavy moan, his eyes slightly dazed and his lower lip drawn between his teeth. Sihtric tried to speak again, and through his muffled mumbles you understood he asked what the punishment was supposed to be, and you gave him a cheeky smile.

'The punishment is,' you said as you sat back in front of them, giving them a clear view while you took off your panties, 'that you both will have to watch how I pleasure myself.'

'You wouldn't dare,' Masema remarked, but his eyes grew as big as Sihtric's when they saw you spreading your legs before them.

Both men glanced at each other, then back at you, and they watched with disbelief in their mismatched eyes how you pressed the buzzing vibrator against your wet folds. You threw your head back at the pleasant and intense sensation you had longed for, and quickly your soft moans became louder, while your doms could only sit and watch you do what they forbid you to. Only they were allowed to touch you, to please you, to make you feel good. That was their job, not yours. 

They both began to breathe heavier, their bare chests rising higher and falling deeper with each moan that escaped your lips. Their arousals were painfully trapped, desperate to be freed from the tight clothes and to be shoved deep inside you to teach you a lesson.

It didn't take long before you reached your high, and you fell back onto the floor with a satisfied grin on your face and tears of pleasure in your eyes. You felt lightheaded, and it took you a minute to compose yourself again and sit back up to face your doms, who then glared at you with a dangerous amount of lust, rage and love in their eyes.

'What's the matter?' you giggled, cheeks still flushed, 'are you both jealous cats now?'

Sihtric just shook his head disapprovingly, while Masema's nose twitched with a passionate rage, like that of a wolf who can't wait to jump his prey, and you knew that once you would unchain him, you'd be in trouble. Fortunately, you never had to unchain him. But unfortunately, that was because Masema had suddenly managed to slip one hand out of the handcuffs, and he immediately freed himself. He took off the nipple clamps with a grunt, then jumped up and rushed towards you.

You gasped at the realisation and also jumped up, but it was already too late. Masema grabbed your arm and gave you a yank, then threw you on the bed and wasted no time climbing on top of you, and he grabbed your throat.

'You think that was funny?' Masema hissed, 'you think that was cute, sweetheart?'

'S-s-sorry, Sir,' you stammered, cheeks still flushed and eyes wide while your dom towered over you.

'Oh,' he scoffed, 'now you're sorry, huh?'

Sihtric suddenly rattled his handcuffs, still tied up, and he mumbled something while the ballgag again muffled his speech. Masema looked over at Sihtric, and then back at you.

'Stay,' he ordered.

'Yes, Sir,' you whispered obediently, but Masema kept his eyes on you while he slowly moved away to Sihtric to unchain him, not trusting your behaviour anymore.

'Yeah, fine,' Sihtric muttered, 'thanks.'

Masema removed the ballgag and took Sihtric's face.

'You good?' he asked softly, with genuine love and concern, and he quickly removed the cat ears they were both still wearing.

Masema winked and pecked his lips, to which Sihtric let out a soft, smitten chuckle. Then both men turned to you, and you crawled further up the bed until you were trapped, your back pressed up against the headboard.

'What to do with our princess now?' Masema sighed.

'I have an idea,' Sihtric said with a devilish smirk, and he took the handcuffs you had used on them, as well as an extra set.

And as if Masema could read Sihtric's mind, he helped by holding your legs down without saying a word, and Sihtric cuffed your ankles to the bed. He then moved up to join you on the bed, and took your hands to press soft kisses to them.

'You knew you would never get away with this, princess,' Sihtric cooed and kissed your cheek, then handcuffed your wrists to the headboard.

And there you were, wearing an oversized shirt which belonged to your doms, your legs spread and tied down, being fully exposed for their viewing pleasure only. You struggled against your restraints when Masema grabbed your vibrator off the floor and threw it on the bed, where he joined you and Sihtric with a menacing smile.

'What-' you gasped at both men, as mild panic and excitement rushed through your body, and your breath hitched in your throat when your boyfriends suddenly grabbed each other's collar to pull one closer, and kissed each other deeply and sloppily right above you.

You moaned at the sight, desperately trying to find any friction between your thighs to give a sense of relief, but it was hopeless. You could only watch, as tears welled up in your eyes, how your doms touched each other up while they made out. Masema raked his fingers through Sihtric's hair, grabbing a fistful of his dark curls, and he tugged his hair firmly to pull his head back, exposing his neck. He then brought his lips to Sihtric's neck, who in return moaned and hissed at the open mouthed kisses and love bites Masema left on his skin, while his tattooed fingers squeezed Masema's toned biceps. And you whined, until finally you managed to earn their attention again as you begged them to let you join.

'You wanted to cum for us so badly, right, princess?' Sihtric smirked, his lips coated with Masema's saliva.

'You're in luck, sweetheart,' Masema purred at you, and he unbuckled Sihtric's belt slowly, 'because you're gonna cum for us, again and again.'

'And again,' Sihtric added with a smug face as he looked at you, his hands seductively moving up Masema's thighs, 'just like you wanted, princess.'

'And to make sure you don't whine too much,' Masema chuckled and suddenly pressed the buzzing vibrator to your clit, 'and to make you cum for us like a good girl,' he continued while Sihtric unzipped his jeans and finally freed his hard, leaking cock, 'we'll take turns fucking your mouth, until your lips are swollen and you can't even remember your own name anymore, only ours.'

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[dirty-urie]

Stubble (Claim Me)

1.5k words

Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex, condomless sex, unwanted hickeys

You wrinkle your nose disapprovingly as Brendon comes out of the bathroom. He raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty girl? You’re normally happy to see me naked.”

You scan down his body and flush at the sight of his cock, half-hard. You wonder if he touched himself in the shower, or if seeing you really gets him going that easily. You are naked after all. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the nudity. Keep that part,” you laugh, standing up from the hotel bed to press yourself against him.

He puts one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your neck. “Then what’s wrong, darlin’?”

You run your index finger down his cheek. “You didn’t shave for me,” you pout. “You always shave for me when I visit. I love your face all soft and smooth. Mmm, and when you smell like aftershave,” you sigh dreamily.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and the long stubble presses into you slightly. “I’m sorry, I have to stay unshaved for my show tonight. Part of the stage persona. But I’ll shave as soon as I’m done, deal? You’ll get a whole three days with your smooth man.”

You giggle. “Okay, fine. I’ll put up with stubble.”

Brendon’s nostrils flare. “Oh, baby. Put up with the stubble? Tsk tsk, y/n. Challenge accepted.”

You bite your lip, and he squeezes your ass. Your cunt begins to buzz in anticipation. “What challenge?” Brendon’s a competitive little shit, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s turning facial hair into a challenge.

Brendon suddenly scoops you up and drops you on the bed. You bounce a few times, and Brendon’s eyes darken at the sight of your tits moving up and down. “Fuck, you’re a work of art.”

You whimper, needing him. “Brendon, cock.” You reach for it in vain, but he’s standing at the foot of the bed, a hand wrapped around each of your ankles. Too far for you to get to his cock.

“You’ll get me.” It’s a promise. “But first I want to demonstrate to you the many pleasures of stubble.” He pushes your legs apart easily and crawls between them, his breathing heavy. “God, love this fucking cunt,” he groans.

He nuzzles your inner thighs lightly, his not-quite-beard tickling the sensitive skin. “Oh,” you gasp. He sucks on your thigh and nibbles on the skin while his scruff brushes your skin. “Oh.” You feel Brendon smirk against you, but you don’t mind because he’s already making you feel so fucking good. He moves to your quivering pussy without taking his face off of you, the rubbing hair stinging slightly and leaving a pleasant tingling feeling behind. He licks and sucks the skin of your mound, and you rub against his face desperately, relishing the extra sensation against you from his rough hair. He finally slips his tongue between your folds, tonguing your clit. “Fuck,” you groan. “I’ve missed this goddamn tongue.”

“Good,” he says, and it comes out muffled by your slickness. Luckily, you’re used to figuring him out with a mouth full of clit. “Because I’ve missed this sweetness,” he groans, and you peer down to confirm that he’s grinding against the bed. He pushes two fingers into you, crooking them expertly.

His tongue is on your clit, his fingers are buried in your pussy, and his stubble is rubbing against the skin inside your thighs. All of the sensations coil tightly in your stomach, hot and intense.

“That’s right,” he encourages, speeding up his fingers. “Come for me, baby.”

You flush, embarrassed at how well he can read you. “Brendon,” you whine. “So good.”

“Come,” he coaxes, and you moan deeply, squeezing his face with your thighs. “Good girl,” he praises breathlessly, crawling up your body to lie on top of you. His erection presses insistently into your thigh, but he doesn’t seem overly needy. You admire his self-control.

Your thighs are warm and burn slightly with all of his abrasion. You relish the reminder of him between them.

You crane your neck, silently begging for kisses, and he acquiesces easily, letting you suck at his lips before pressing your tongue in needily. You gasp against his mouth when you feel his face, hair soaked with your arousal. He’s rubbing yourself back onto you, and your whole body feels utterly claimed by him. “Fuck me,” you plead, and Brendon lines himself up before pressing inside you.

Pain intermingles with pleasure hotly when he rubs against the irritated skin of your thighs, and you groan, devouring his lips, tasting the mix of him and yourself on his tongue. He fucks you quickly, needing you to come so he can get ready for his show. He brings a hand between your bodies, stroking your clit. “Good girl. So good for me,” he praises when your walls spasm around him. Jolts of pleasure wrack you, and you moan, drawing him closer to you.

“So good, Brendon,” you cry before you resume kissing him sloppily. You kiss down his cheek to his neck, sucking lightly.

Brendon inhales sharply. “Baby, baby, no marks,” he reminds. You pout, and he kisses you in consolation. “You can mark me up as much as you want once the tour is over,” he promises, and your pussy spasms at the thought. “You’re squeezing my cock perfectly. God, I’m so fucking hard.” He throbs inside you, and you grab his hair.

“Fuck me harder,” you groan, and Brendon squeezes his eyes shut before he picks up his pace.

Brendon pants hard, and his face is flushed. You know what he’s about to say before he does. “Baby, gotta come soon,” he warns. “You know how eating your pussy gets me.”

“Oh I know.” You nibble his lip. “I'm about to come, baby. Don’t worry.” His thrusts falter, and you sink onto his cock, clenching around it hard. “Fuck, fuck, amazing.”

Brendon comes with you, warm semen spilling into you as ecstasy raptures his face. “I love you, baby,” he sighs, rolling off of you and slipping out.

You roll out of bed, and come drips out of your cunt onto your rubbed inner thighs, and you feel like his. “Bren,” you sigh, sated, and Brendon looks at you expectantly with his gorgeous brown eyes, “I can get behind stubbly sex again. Need be.”

He grins, eyes glinting. “And maybe I’ll get behind you next time.” He winks as you half-walk, half-limp to the bathroom to clean up. He’s only been gone on tour for two weeks, but you’re still slightly sore from being out of practice. You don’t use any internal toys while he’s gone. None can replace his perfect cock thrusting into you. Plus your thighs tingle a tad unpleasantly when you rub them together.

You pass by the mirror on your way to the shower and do a double take. “BRENDON,” holler, storming out of the bathroom. You flare your nostrils and put a hand on your hip.

Brendon bites his lip sheepishly. “Yes, beloved?”

You gesture to your lower face. “What is this?” you demand.

“…beard burn.”

You huff and walk back into the bathroom indignantly, studying the pink irritation all over your cheeks and chin in the mirror before rejoining your boyfriend in bed. “Brendon,” you whine, “everyone is gonna know we’ve been fucking.”

Brendon growls and his nostrils flare. “Fuck, baby.” He grabs his hardening cock. “I kinda like that. Let everyone know you’ve been claimed as mine.”

You pounce on him, sucking hard right above his collar bone. A place that should be covered by his shirt, but could easily become exposed if he’s not careful. You nibble down his chest and suck several little marks in a horizontal line above his dick. Once again, covered by clothes in theory, but you know how his pants ride down and his shirt rides up.

Brendon bucks up his hips under you as you work, fully erect now. He moans and doesn’t bother to protest, just reaches between your bodies to touch himself.

You sit back on your knees to admire your handiwork. Six unmissable dark marks on his abdomen.

“Y/n, what happened to no marks?” he finally has the sense to pant.

You let out a single dry laugh. “Tit for tat, baby boy. You claimed me, and then I claimed you.”

Brendon shudders in arousal, his erection leaking before he regains his composure and smirks at you. He cradles your breast in his spare hand. “Fair enough, love, but I’d prefer tat for tit if you don’t mind. After all, these tits are fucking incredible.” He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and his beard hairs tickle you delightfully.

“And they’re all yours. Claim my tits, Brendon.”

[face-turn]

All the Flowers (turn to face the sun)

Pairing: Gen; the Shield and its brotherly homoeroticism notwithstanding Words: 1.3k Rating: PG, for Dean’s mouth A/N: While this is technically not complete, I don’t know where else it’s going, so I’m setting it free. Also I’ve been gone for two years what of it. 

The safehouse this time is barely more than a shoebox, a single bedroom with an alleyway window opening up into a tiny living room and a galley kitchen. They never really expect comfort-- they pay for security, for secrecy, not for luxury-- but even Dean has to admit this is a little sad. 

Except. On the windowsill of that tiny little window, a pot of ivy creeps halfheartedly up the screen. It’s just a little one, maybe some kinda ornamental thing, but Dean is fucking fascinated. They’ve never been here before, because somehow Rollins has matched and surpassed Dean’s paranoia, but nonetheless Dean is compelled to carefully water it, to weed the little thing and to turn it a little to help it catch what meagre sunlight peeks over the sharp shadows of the neighboring building. 

“It’s just a weed,” Reigns says, and he says it like he’s an expert on weeds and not-weeds and hey, Dean, have you ever considered being a person with a working brain for once? 

Well. He doesn’t say that last part. Dean infers it. 

“Yeah?” Dean says, focusing on picking tiny blades of grass out of the pot and flicking them into Reigns’ hair when he’s not looking. “Well, s’lasted this long on its own. Think maybe I was a weed in another life?” 

Reigns looks at him with his startling grey eyes. “Yeah,” He says. “Well, you’re like some kind of weird mold now, so I guess it’s not too--” 

Their ensuing scuffle is interrupted by Rollins coming back, slipping into the back door like a shadow. The look on his face says trouble, which means a job, which means Dean flicks one last piece of dirt into Reigns’ hair and stands up, brushing his hands off on his pants.

When they come back, month and change later, the plant is gone. That’s okay. Dean is used to things that don’t last. 

--

The motel’s on the very outskirts of town, vacancy sign flickering dolefully in the foggy dark. They’re outside of Atlanta-- or Aurora, or Akron, or Augusta. Dean’s lost track of all the places they’ve paced through, hackles up and snarling. They blur together when you never stop and someone else pays the bills.

The pool out front’s been drained and there’s only a couple of cars out front, but the lights are on and this is the address Punk gave them. Rollins is dozing on his feet, swaying into Dean’s shoulder every so often, and Reigns is tweaked out of his mind on Modafinil, muscles shivering ever-so-slightly with barely restrained get-up-and-go. 

Dean’s always had a better stomach for uppers, already has most of the side effects wired into his biology and doesn’t get ‘em better or worse when he’s on stims. He’s the one who bundles them out of the car, drags them staggering into the lobby to pick up a room key. He assures the man at the desk that no, sir, he’s certainly Mr. Punk, sir, yes that is his birth name, yes he certainly can produce an I.D., if you’ll give him just a moment. 

There’s only one bed, because C.M. Punk is some kinda penny pinching motherfucker when he’s not paying their fees, but it doesn’t matter. Dean’s slept on worse than dirty carpets, and at least there’s a roof. He hefts Rollins-- Seth, he guesses, because it’s hard to keep it casual when you’re unlacing a guy’s boots-- onto the bed while Reigns mumbles something incoherent and stumbles off, possibly to die in the shower. 

Dean’s still got the urge to move shoving at him. He drapes his dog tags across the old alarm clock-- Reigns will get it or he won’t-- and secures the room as best he can before slipping out the door. It’s gone from foggy to rainy, drops bouncing off cracked asphalt and turning the whole place into a shitty, muddy slip-n-slide. A cluster of pretty girls are gathered around the Coke machine, short shirts and shorter skirts and the kind of high-pitched laughter that’ll kill a man’s confidence at a hundred paces. 

It’s too rainy to walk, Dean guesses. 

“Hey mister,” One calls, kind of sarcastic, and her friends break back down into laughter. She’s wearing a flower in her hair, rain-dropped and vibrant even under the shitty fluorescent lights. 

“Evening ma’am,” Dean replies, doffing an invisible cap. He doesn’t approach, because he’s not interested or capable of buying what they’re selling. 

They don’t seem too put out about it. Dean’s looking kind of rough, he admits, five days unshaved and hands still wrapped to the wrist. He definitely wouldn’t wanna see himself in a dark alley, that’s for fuckin’ sure. 

“You looking for anything?” The girl with the flower asks, cocking her hip in defiance of the weather and his distance. 

“Only the ice machine,” He demurs, and they laugh at him again. He smiles, so he’s in on the joke. 

There’s no ice machine, they all cheerfully inform him, which is okay because Dean didn’t really need ice anyway, just something to do with his hands until the mania steps back a little and lets forty sleepless hours take the reins. 

It takes a lap or two of the complex to settle down. He scopes out all the easy exits on the first go around, because he can’t help it, and then the harder exits, because his mind still needs something to work on. 

It’s late-late by the time he trudges back up to the door, instead of just late. He taps the door softly, pattern set in his bones after all this time practicing. It’s a minute before the return knock comes, a password and response that’s as familiar as breathing. When the door swings open for Dean to slip inside, Reigns is there, sleepy and still damp from his shower. 

He also looks hilariously pissed off. 

“No hot water?” Dean guesses, and is immediately rewarded with a snarl that would make a tiger jealous. He slips the travel lock back into place, locks and double locks and bolts the door behind him, kicks the door stop into place and slides the safety lock in, too. It won’t keep out someone who’s desperate to get in, but it’ll give them a little bit of time to wake up. 

“Seth’s gonna bitch so much,” Reigns says, squeezing out his hair and starting on his nightly ritual untangling. “Boy’s like a lapdog.” 

Dean makes a noise of agreement, watching Seth’s back rise and fall with his slow breaths. Something about him just screams that he was made to be pampered. Maybe the sly hints of a good family life. 

“We’re gonna let him find out on his own.” Dean says, settling onto the foot of the bed and fighting against the weight of his eyelids. 

“Yessir,” Reigns says, plaiting his hair up quick and laying one hand, still cool from his cold shower, onto Dean’s forehead. “C’mon, babe, get up and brush your teeth. We got a spare.” 

Dean hoists himself up, because of course now he’s tired. Brushing his teeth and splashing his face with water is a blur, and when he finally passes out he doesn’t even remember that there’s only one bed, after all. 

When they leave the next day, Seth bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from his surprisingly chilly wakeup shower, the girl’s flower is in a puddle by the soda machine, pretty and only a little bit stepped on. Dean wavers before stooping to pick it up, fragile and wet and almost weightless. 

Reigns looks back over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow up in that stoically judgmental way that he has, but doesn’t say anything to Dean, just keeps bullying Seth’s salty ass back to the car. Dean pets at the petals one more time before letting the flower fall back into its puddle, where it floats and spins endlessly in a reflection of the star-speckled dawn.