*text* Hey, long time no see. Want some company? ;)
He smiled, amused by Seth's bluntness. It was kind of late, but the prospect of having Seth in his bed again was too tempting to resist. He wrote back:
*text* Like you even have to ask. Bring it on over here.
He hit send, biting his lip anxiously. He was already getting excited, his head spinning with recollections of the things Seth did to him last time, making his cock twitch. He lay his head back and closed his eyes, reaching down and squeezing himself gently. He was getting hard fast just thinking about it.
Suddenly, he was jolted wide awake by a loud banging on the door of the bus. It couldn't be Seth, not this quickly, he thought to himself. Still, he made a beeline to the front, putting a hand on the door before stopping. "Who is it?" he asked, not wanting to fling the door open for just anybody.
"It's me....Seth." He heard from the other side. He sounded nervous again, that anxious little slut. Punk smirked and opened the door, revealing a sight he definitely wasn't expecting.
Seth was standing there, looking absolutely ravaged. His hair was tangled, sweaty and hanging down limply in his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and he looked like he had been involved in some kind of altercation. He was shaking visibly.
"Hey....uhh, I'm really sorry," he said weakly, looking up at Punk apologetically through tangles of two-toned hair. "They...they fought me for it."
"What? Who?...wait, what?" Punk asked incredulously, wondering what the hell was going on. Just then, he saw two shadowy figures step out from either side of the doorway. One of them grabbed Seth, yanking him out of the way, and the other lunged toward Punk, grabbing him by the back of the neck and throwing him out onto the pavement.
Punk somersaulted before hitting the ground, but landed hard on his back, the air temporarily knocked out of his lungs. He saw the shadowy figure appear again, standing over him. He still couldn't see a face, but he could see a black hoodie, and as he looked closer he thought he saw a hint of a sneer beneath the hood.
The other unknown stepped into the light, pulling Seth over to look at Punk. "Better take a good look at your boy now, because the next time you see him his face is gonna look totally different," a deep, angry voice growled, the figure pulling back on Seth's hair roughly and shoving his head down as he cried out in pain.
Before Punk had a chance to react, the other figure bent down, slapping Punk hard several times, getting right in close to him, blowing Punk's hair back as he shouted hoarsely in his face.
"Just who the FUCK do you think you are, anyway?!? Who told you it was okay to fuck someone else's bitch, huh?? Tell me, you piece of fucking shit... ANSWER ME!!! He barked, buffeting Punk in a rain of blows to the head. Punk tried to cover himself, but the other unknown assailant came over and locked his arms behind him, yanking him up onto his feet. He was thrown roughly against the side of the bus, the metallic thud echoing across the otherwise empty parking lot.
When he turned back around to defend himself, he saw one of them come at him again, kicking him square in the stomach, doubling him over. He was then put into a tight headlock and thrown back onto the bus, falling partway up the stairs before regaining his footing.
Punk threw his head back, smacking the person restraining him in the face with his skull, giving him enough of an opportunity to work with. He twisted his arms free and lunged at the other attacker, who was advancing on him. He spun and deflected Punk's attempt, letting him run headlong into the kitchen countertop, landing crumpled on the floor, semi-conscious. Through a haze of pain, Punk could hear voices having a heated, urgent-sounding exchange, but they sounded tinny and far-away. He tried vainly to focus, but his vision was blurry and fading fast. The last thing he saw before slipping into unconsciousness was something hitting the floor next to his head. As groggy as he was, he still felt a sickly bolt of fear shoot through him as he realized what it was: the comic book he had given to Seth. A hand grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face onto it, right on the page he had autographed for him. Punk's vision shrunk to a pinpoint and he went out cold, laying helplessly on the floor as his hooded captors stood over him, laughing like jackals after a fresh kill.
"Lock that fucking door," the gruff-voiced one said, pulling his hood down and running a hand through his sandy, tangled hair.
No comments:
Post a Comment