#serial punk

[radiofreealbemut]

[writtenraw]

Pre-S!Punkicho Smut - First Exposure - 1/11/12

Since I'm now reposting a bunch for Andy, and I've posted quite a few non-smutty things, I'll put up one of the actual smuts I've made for these fuckers.

This is the first time (Serial) Chris kills someone in front of Punk and obviously takes place early in their relationship, prior to him influencing Punk into becoming a serial killer as well. Obviously this is like happening years ago.

Murder. Shower sex. Choking... That's all you're getting listed. It's smut okay.

Punk stared at the lifeless body on the other side of Chris, his features blank but horror slowly seeping into his mind. Little incisions littered the whore's body, blood seeping out of them. But that wasn't the reason for her death, no... The blonde had literally choked the bitch to death.

“Chris, you—”

“Go shower, babe.” The blonde's voice sounded perfectly normal, but Punk could recognize the dangerous glint in his eye. That same look he had when he was talking about annoyances who he wanted to get rid of. Chris being a murderer wasn't new to him; but having someone killed right in front of his eyes... Not only that, but someone that Chris has brought along as a treat for them to enjoy in their 'games'. It was disturbing.

“I don't want a shower.” Punk countered, his eyes still focused on the corpse on the bed, “I want to know why—”

“Then draw a bath, and I'll join you in a few minutes.” Get out.

Blinking, Punk glowered at him for a moment before climbing off the bed and walking into the lavish bathroom. Fine. He was feeling a bit sick looking at the dead whore anyway. Slamming the door behind him, he smirked faintly at the curse Chris made in response and started toward the bath. Halfway, he stopped and looked down at himself with a small grimace.

Both he and Chris were covered in blood, and he was still bleeding in a few places. Bath water wouldn't stay clean very long and not even Punk liked the thought of soaking in dirty water. Change course for the shower. He started the water and left it to heat up. His stomach was still churning at the thought of the corpse that had all too recently been a warm, willing participant of their play. The toilet was just close enough for him to backtrack to in time, losing the contents of his stomach into it.

Why the fuck had Chris killed her? She was a nobody, as far as Punk was concerned. Not to mention the fact that Chris never killed in front of him—hell, the blonde had literally sent him away from places when he had a 'job' to do. Orders that the straight edge male was all too willing to follow when it came down to it. He wanted nothing to do with murder, that wasn't him. Punk was not a murderer—even if he was in pretty deep with one.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand pulling his hair from where it had fallen over his face. A glass of water entered his line of vision and he took it to rinse out his mouth before downing the rest. Chris pulled him up from the ground and over to the shower, which now had steam pouring out of it. Punk hissed softly when the spray hit him, the temperature scalding. Without a word, he reached over and turned it down. Obviously he hadn't been too attentive turning it on.

“You're not going to start crying on me, are you?” Chris joked mildly from behind him, the blonde's hands roaming over his back, helping wipe away some of the blood that was sure to have found it's way back there at some point in the last few hours.

“Just because I got a little queasy doesn't mean you scarred me or something, jackass.” Punk snapped back, not at all in the mood to make light of the situation. He placed a bracing hand on the wall of the shower and leaned his head against the cool surface, his tongue sneaking out to toy with his lip ring. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don't ask questions with obvious answers, Punkers. It doesn't do anyone good.” The blonde tangled a hand in his hair, tugging lightly to make him lean back against him instead. Started licking at the still-bleeding bite on his collarbone.

“How about why, then? Is that a better question?” He tried not to focus on the blonde's actions. Didn't want to get distracted from this—let alone get pulled into another round of fucking right after seeing his boyfriend kill someone they had just done the same thing with. Something about it just seemed... Wrong.

“She saw something that she shouldn't have.”

“So you brought her here to fuck then kill?”

“Well, why not? She was pretty. Didn't you like her?” Chris pulled back, turning the younger male around to make eye contact. Punk bit his lip, frowning.

“No, I did like her. That's part of the fucking problem. You've never brought someone here before to kill them! And now there's a fucking corpse in the—”

Before he could say another word, the blonde kissed him. Hard. Punk stumbled back into the wall and returned it, briefly forgetting why he was so upset about the entire matter. The taste of his own blood passed from Chris' mouth to his and he hummed, letting himself relax a bit. As soon as his eyes slipped closed, however, the image of the dead body flashed in his mind. With a slightly horrified gasp, he shoved Chris off and snapped his eyes back open, running a hand down his face and moving fully into the spray.

“You're freaking out.” It wasn't a question. He hated it when Chris made statements like that. “Don't worry about the bitch, okay? I wanted to do something fun, different, with you and she was willing. What happened after... Well, it was two birds with one stone.”

“I don't want to use people on your damn hit list as fuck-toys, Christopher!” Anger. If he just stayed angry, everything would work out. Somehow.

“Calm do—”

“Don't fucking tell me to calm down! You killed that bitch right after we got done fucking her! People aren't toys. If you're going to kill them, do it, but don't bring someone here as a 'treat' right before you do so!”

Chris' hand closed around his throat, forcing him back once more against the shower wall as their lips connected. The immediate response should have been to reach up and pull the hand away, but the message got lost somewhere between his brain and hands. Instead, Punk's hands grabbed Chris' hips and yanked him closer. The grip on his throat tightened slightly, making him dig his nails into the blonde's skin in response. Soon enough, he began feeling lightheaded from lack of air, little spots showing up in his vision. Panic signals started going off in his head, screaming for him to get some air into his lungs.

It wasn't until his hands loosened their hold on the blonde and slipped to his sides that Chris let up on the grip and pulled back, allowing much-welcomed air into his lungs. The blonde only gave him time to get in one good breath before he was back to kissing the life out of him. Just enough air to set off his instincts to fight for survival.

His hands came up, clawing at the blonde's chest, trying and failing to push him back. Most of his strength was sapped with the lack of oxygen. Something he was getting in small bursts. The blond would pull back slightly at just the right times to allow just enough air to pass into his lungs to keep him from passing out, but never enough to really alleviate the lightheaded feeling that came with the lack of air.

By the time the kiss was broken, Punk had almost completely forgotten why he was so damn upset to begin with. At least this way they wouldn't have to worry about the girl running off telling whoever would listen about what they did behind closed doors. He let himself be guided to his knees, Chris' hand still wrapped around his throat, controlling just how much air he could take in. It took nearly all his self-control to shove his instincts away. Punk knew if he put up anymore of a fight, things would become more serious than what the shower was really equipped for.

“Keep breathing, just like this.” Chris ordered, voice low. “Got it, Punkers? Just. Like. This.”

Punk nodded, using all his control not to inhale more fully when the grip on his throat vanished. Instead, he took the freedom to lean forward and lick at the bite mark he had left on the blonde's hip earlier. The water had already washed it clear, but he attached his lips to the spot and sucked lightly for a moment to make it bleed again, enjoying the coppery taste. An impatient sound from the older man had him moving onto the reason he was on his knees in the first place.

The second his lips closed around Chris' dick, the blonde entangled his hand in his hair, wrapping it a few times around his hand and thrusting forward. Once again cutting off his air supply as he pumped quickly in and out. He tried to relax his throat, to push back the wave of lightheaded feelings crashing over him again. A small moan vibrated from the back of his throat, eliciting a much louder one from the male currently throat fucking him.

Just as he felt himself starting to black out, he could breathe again. Within seconds, Chris had pulled him up and shoved him face first against the wall, thrusting inside of him without any warning. Punk gasped, his elbow flying back into the blonde's chest and earning a grunt. Chris went hard, finding the right angle that would send pleasure coursing up and down the younger man's spine and send him into more of a frenzy. One hand closed around Punk's dick and started pumping while the other wrapped around his throat in a sleeper hold.

The straight edge male clawed at whatever bit of skin he could reach, digging his nails into Chris' skin almost enough to draw blood. His senses were going crazy, the experience of once again being cut off from air only heightening it. It didn't take long for either of them to climax, Chris releasing his hold of Punk's neck in order to yank his head back and give another suffocating kiss as orgasm hit him, effectively dragging the younger male over the edge as well.

When it was over, Chris pulled away and smirked at the younger male.

“It's a really good thing I've got a couple days before I gotta wrestle. Those nails are dangerous, babe.” Punk turned around, leaning heavily against the wall as he took in the angry red scratch marks covering the blonde's body. Little bits of blood could be seen seeping out of some of them, particularly on his hips and chest.

“Good.” It came out in something of a pant as he shoved off the wall and into Chris, wrapping his arms around the blonde's neck and using him as a support beam. “Now make it up to me for killing that bitch in front of me, and wash my hair.”

“Is that all you want?” Chris chuckled, “No sexual favors? You're being awfully tame all of a sudden.”

“Fuck you.” Punk mumbled, envisioning the corpse on the bed. “No, you can buy me a new—better—bed later. Then I can fuck you raw on it.”

“Feisty.”

“Don't ever kill someone in our bed again.” Just to make sure his point of displeasure got across, Punk dug his nails into the back of the blonde's neck. He felt a hand grip and tug his hair, but Chris didn't respond verbally and he got a sinking feeling as to why.

If you're going to be with me, you have to be willing to share certain aspects of my lifestyle.

[writtenraw]

I accidentally a continuation of this.

--

Breathing heavily, he rolled over from where he'd slumped against the demon, flopping onto his back in the spot on the bed beside him, eyes closed tight. Punk couldn't stand it, his emotions and mind conflicting so thoroughly with each other, not to mention his body. He should get up, get as far away from Nero before he did something that he would regret. Just, leave. Get up and go.

That was what needed to happen, right now. Move, Punk. Go. Run. He stayed put, one hand coming up to cover his face while the other tugged at his hair in frustration. “You seem to be struggling with something, Phillip.” Nero sounded amused and Punk somehow found the energy to lash out with the hand in his hair, tensing when he felt the demon's hand wrap tightly around his wrist. “Is there something you wanted?” Yes! “Let go.” “But you'll just give it back to me if I do.” That stupid laugh sounded again and Punk clenched the hand against his face, growling softly. “You're so eager to come into contact with me, Phillip, it's actually quite delightful.” He couldn't take it anymore. “Just. Do it.” He muttered it with an air of defeat, partially into his hand. The grip on his wrist tightened and suddenly, Nero was sitting on top of him, leaning down close. “What was that, Phillip?” Frustrated and feeling beyond embarrassed at his lack of control, Punk lashed out at his face with his free hand. He got a small sense of satisfaction at the angry red scratches he left on the demon's face before that hand was trapped too. Nero seemed unphased, though, grinning down at him. “What is it you want me to do?” “F-ff...” He couldn't bring himself to say it right out, frustration taking over. “You were right, okay?! I-i enjoyed it and I can't. Stop. Fucking thinking about it! So will you just. Just...” “Just what, Phillip?” Fucker. Punk bit down on his lip hard, drawing blood. Why him? “You still haven't told me what you want.” “Fuck me! Okay!” Nero grinned, grip on Punk's wrists tightening to the point of being painful, but the demon didn't do anything else. A small groan left him. “Please. I can't take it anymore. Just. Please.” “I knew you'd accept it eventually, Phillip.”

[writtenraw]

Short Story - Nero and Serial Punk.

This took awhile to write, but it was fun.

A small encounter between Nero and Serial Punk.

--

The idea of being alone for a good portion of the night wasn't exactly a relief this time. After waking up with a hole in his wall and no memory of how it got there, followed by a week filled with little to no sleep... Punk was feeling paranoid, stretched a bit too thin mentally to be okay with the idea of being left alone for awhile.

Especially given the recent messages and hints from Nero. If anything, he felt the urge to go stand in a throng of fans because the more people around, the better. Right?

It didn't matter; right now, he was alone and that wasn't going to change for at least four hours. He needed to relax, find something to distract himself, and just let time pass. Maybe he'd get lucky and Nero wouldn't try anything. Even though the more private conversation they'd been having all day kept running through his head. Of course, the more he thought about Nero watching him, the more he actually felt like it was happening.

Damn his mind.

A bath was sounding like a better and better idea. They were relaxing. Water was good; calming. Maybe he could prop himself up and doze a little without... Anything bad going on. Yeah. That would be a good way to pass the time, at least for awhile. At the very least, it'd get him to relax a bit and maybe get his mind to calm down on the paranoia.

It didn't take him very long to retreat into the bathroom, watching as steaming water filled the bathtub—which, admittedly, was probably a little too big for a small guy like him to really justify having (even if Chris got in there with him). He leaned against the side for a couple of minutes, one hand dropped to swirl around in the hot water thoughtfully. Debating if he wanted to add something more for the hell of it. They had bath oils, he liked the idea of smelling like coconut when Chris got back—it wasn't very often he actually took a bath. Showers were quicker, more likely to wake him up.

He didn't debate it very long, moving quickly to dig out the scented stuff and add it to the running water before the bath was too full to allow it. Once that was done, he discarded his clothes and climbed in, sliding down with a happy sigh into the near-scalding water. He laid down as far as he could without putting his head under water, tilting it back to rest against the edge of the tub and staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes. Just enjoying the feel, the fact that he didn't have anything invading his mind for once in what seemed like forever.

“Best. Idea. Ever...”

Then, his eyes slid closed.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that before he sensed that something was... Off. Not very long, because he hadn't fallen asleep, but still long enough for him to have sunk into the relaxation enough that it slowed his response. Punk's eyes opened slowly, reluctantly, as he felt the surface of the water undergo a change. It felt... Slicker. Less clean and more... Ick. Like there was some layer of grease or—

“I thought you could use some more oil.”

He flew straight up into a sitting position at the voice floating through his mind, eyes wide now as he looked at the slightly darker surface of the bath. Punk didn't get much time to wonder what the hell kind of oil the demon had added to the bath, because mere seconds later flames jumped into life at the other end of the tub. The straight edge male swallowed hard, staring in disbelief at the fire and pressing back against the edge of the tub as he tried to catch up with what was happening.

Click.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

As the flames drew closer, he freaked. Instinct took over, telling him that water countered fire (even though these fucking flames were on top of water making no fucking sense to him), making his arms move of their own accord and send a huge splash of the tub contents at the flames, a decent amount sloshing over the side of the tub. Instead of dousing the fire, however, it only seemed to feed it. The flames even, impossibly, followed the trail of water that had gone over the side of the tub and proceeded to spread over the bathroom entirely. Suddenly, it was a lot hotter in here than before.

This isn't happening. Water doesn't catch fire.

Panic started to set in as he watched the bathroom go up in flames within a blink of an eye. It wasn't until the flames got within a few inches of his skin that it occurred to get out of the water. Flinching, Punk scrambled to climb out of the tub and away from the possibility of being burnt. Before he could get a foot out, however, something grabbed hold of his ankles and yanked him back in, dragging him under the surface. Flailing, he kicked out at the thing holding him underwater, turning his body despite his mind telling him he really didn't want to know.

Nero grinned at him, form distorted thanks to a combination of the flames that—much to his dismay—were now covering the entire surface of the bath as well as the moving water. As soon as he blinked, the demon was gone, even though the feeling of being held down remained. Punk lay a few feet underwater, staring up at the surface. His eyes searched the area for even the smallest bit of space untouched by the fire, but it was no use. The tub was big, but it wasn't that big.

And the water was starting to get uncomfortably hot, the heat from the flames only adding to the high temperature it had been at before. He needed to get out before he either boiled alive or drowned, but that would require risking being burned alive. Placing a hand over his face, Punk steeled himself for the on-coming pain before starting to thrash against whatever it was holding him there. With enough effort, he was able to push himself too his knees and to the surface.

The second he came up for air, he was met with the searing heat of the flames surrounding him. Punk coughed, trying to suck some air into his lungs as he scrambled for the edge of the tub to try and get out again—get free. Just like the last time, though, he was yanked back. Before he could be dragging underwater again, the straight edge male grabbed a hold of the edge of the tub and kicked back as hard as he could.

“L-let. Me... Go! Damn it!” The water was almost unbearable and he could feel the fire licking at his skin, burning it beyond repair. He fought harder, biting back the pained yell and telling himself that he just needed to get out of the tub. If he could just do that, he would be okay. The bathroom door was only a few feet away.

“I thought you said you wanted this?” Suddenly Nero was right in front of him, face extremely close and a hand placed over Punk's. “Death, release, the end.”

He didn't get a chance to reply before the demon removed his hold from the edge of the tub and shoved him back into the now boiling water, a hand entangled in his hair to better hold him down. Punk fought violently, thrashing and clawing at the demon's arm and the sides of the tub. Stupidly, he opened his mouth to yell, what little air he had taken in escaping him and being replaced with the water so that he was being burn inside and out.

This hadn't been what he meant when he'd asked if Nero would kill him. Burning—boiling, really—him alive while the rest of his bathroom went up in flame was the last thing he wanted. Chris was going to come home to nothing more than the same ashes Punk tended to leave in his wake after a kill. Just because he couldn't handle a fucking demon messing with him. No. This couldn't really be happening.

But it was. He could fucking feel his skin burning up and his lungs filling with hot lava. He was going to die like this. It was already happening.

No! It's a dream! Wake up! Wake up, damn it!

His thrashing was becoming more like writhing than anything, the longer this went on. Fiery pain engulfed his every thought and, despite his high tolerance, it was impossible not to focus solely on the experience.

Don't want to die!

Suddenly the hand holding him underwater was gone. Punk surged up out of the water and toppled over the side of the tub onto the floor, coughing and sputtering. The fire was gone, the only reminder of the entire episode being the ghost feeling of his skin being burned by the boiling water—aside from the entire experience being seared into his mind. He stayed laying on the ground for a few minutes, trying to even his breathing out and ignore the laughter that was echoing in his head.

“I told you to be careful what you wish for with me around, Phillip.” A hand entangled itself in his hair again, pulling him up to his feet and putting him face to face with the amused demon. Nero grinned, patting his cheek roughly a few times, “I hope you learned your lesson.”

Punk opened his mouth to retort, but the hand in his hair vanished and almost immediately his legs gave out beneath him, making sink to his knees again. The fall triggered another coughing fit, and he was forced to listen as that same damn laughter exploded everywhere.

[writtenraw]

Pre-Serial Punk piece. Punkicho.

So I figure that Chris and Punk were FBs before they got serious and Chris was basically using Punk after a certain point to help establish an alibi for while he was out killing. I also assume that Punk got deeper feelings before Chris did, so that sorta spawned this from my mind.

No smut, because I promised myself I wouldn't. But have some Punkicho interaction.

--

The second he got the phone call he knew the next day or so was going to be just as good (or bad) as his night had been.

“Hey, did you go out with the guys after the show?” Chris' voice crackled on the other line and Punk let out an irritated breath at the reminder of the insanity he had left an hour beforehand.

“Yeah. Where the hell were you?” He had been hoping for a chance to spend more time with the older man.

Ever since Chris had basically jumped him a month or so ago and they'd become fuck buddies, he'd found himself ten times more interested in the man. After all, his personality in the bedroom was a lot darker than out of it and Punk wanted to know if that was because he simply didn't hang around the man enough to know differently or if he was getting in bed with a psychopath. A really sexy, fun... Psychopath.

“Sorry, I had something to take care of. If anyone asks, though, tell them that you went to meet me at the pizza place across from the hotel right after.”

“...And are you at the pizza place across the street?” He heard the blonde chuckle and bit down on his lip. Maybe he was being too obvious about this entire thing.

“I might be heading there to pick up something.” There was a moment of silence between the two before Chris spoke again. “Why?”

“Because I think it's only fair that, if I'm going to be saying I went to meet you... If I really do.”

“...You're cute.” Punk frowned faintly, he always hated when people said that. “Better move fast if you wanna get there in time to jump me.”

“I'm not going to jump you!”

“Wasting time.”

“...Asshole.” Huffing, Punk snapped his phone closed and dropped it on the bed before turning to glance out the window. There was a car turning into the pizza place parking lot. He watched it drive around and park, biting his lip as a blonde head popped up on the driver's side. “...I shouldn't, but fuck it.”

Turning, he snatched his phone up along with his room key and darted out the door. Skipped the elevator in favor of taking the stairs two, three at a time down to the lobby before running out of the building all together. He forced himself to slow down once he was outside, speed walking across the empty street to the pizza place and scanning the parking lot as he walked towards the entrance. The car was still there, which was a good sign despite how predictable he felt at the moment.

A glance in through the glass doors told him that Chris wasn't inside and Punk felt himself frown. Was he wrong about the guy in the car? Maybe Chris wasn't there yet or had already come and gone. Or maybe he was hanging out of sight, having a good laugh at the straight edge male's expense.

“You look disappointed about something.” Chris' voice sounded from right behind him and Punk started slightly, spinning to glare at the blonde in accusation. He received an innocent grin in response. “Looking for someone?”

“...Yeah. Some blonde idiot who owes me dinner for standing me up at a club earlier and then having the nerve to ask me a favor after.” He praised himself for recovering so quickly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I see... Well, I'm sure if you go inside there'll be an order ready for pick up, paid in full.” Chris watched him glance back at the shop before gesturing toward his car. “I'll wait there. Hurry up.”

Before Punk could protest about being the one to go inside and get the order, the blonde turned and walked away. Scowling, the younger man resisted the urge to go clock him upside the head and instead entered the building. The smell of pizza invaded his senses immediately as he made his way up to the counter, noting the lack of anyone else. Sitting on the counter was a stack of three large pizza boxes with a white take out container on top and a bag with two litre bottles of soda sitting beside it.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me...”

“You're Punk, right?” His head snapped to the side to look at the worker behind the counter, nodding. “That's the order. You gonna be alright carrying that out by yourself?”

“Yeah, I got it. Do I need to... Sign or pay or something?”

“Nope, it's all taken care of. I thought your friend would have told you already...”

“Yeah, well... He's a bit of an airhead.” Grabbing the bag, he slid the boxes to balance precariously on top of one arm and headed outside. “Thanks man.”

When he got to the car, he discarded the pizza into the back seat and climbed into the passenger side. Only then did he realize that the worker had been expecting him, not Chris. Which was impossible, because the blonde had no way of knowing that he was going to come. He cast a confused look at the other, frowning once more as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street—bypassing the hotel altogether.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere that won't care if we ruin the sheets.” When he didn't have an immediate response, Chris grinned at him. “That's what you want, isn't it?”

Punk stared at him for a moment, noting the odd look in the other's expression. Swallowing quietly, he turned his head to look out the window. He didn't like how the other acted like this was the plan all along. Especially when that meant that he had been a predictable fool about someone he really shouldn't want to be around that much. They were fuck buddies, people who could share their darker kinks together and then walk the other way like nothing was going on.

Yet he had ran down five flights of stairs and across the street on short notice just to get a chance to spend a little more time with the blonde. After going to a club in the hope of hanging out there. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He wasn't supposed to get attached, because that would ruin what happened to be a good thing. A really... Good thing.

“Punk?”

“...Yeah.” He shot a smirk at the blonde, raising an eyebrow. “What else would I want?”

“Attention.” Punk forced himself not to react, instead looking at the other with the same expression as before. Chris grinned. “You sounded pretty irked about that club thing. Which, by the way, I never said I would be there.”

“...You insinuated it.”

“Would you have gone if I hadn't?” When the younger man didn't respond, the blonde chuckled. “I didn't think so. Careful with your feelings, Punkers, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious.”

“I know. I just...” Punk bit down on his lip, feeling irritated. “Just because I want to hang out once in awhile and get to know the guy fucking me semi-regularly doesn't mean I'm getting attached.”

“Act like it, then. And not like a sugar-deprived kid tempted with cotton candy.” Winking, Chris turned his attention back to the road. “It's cute right now, but that won't last very long.”

The straight edge male just huffed in response, crossing his arms over his chest. He never should have left his hotel room again after that phone call. If his emotions had been so conflicted earlier, then now they were like a whirlwind. Unable to decide if he wanted to be happy, irritated, excited or embarrassed. Damn Jericho for doing this shit to him.