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thlayli-ra · 6 months ago

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Stray (part 3)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Larry

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Strong language, mentions of past abuse

Words - ~2,400 words

Summary - The stray's first night at Punk's

'Finally! Made it!' Punk rasped out as he shuffled the stranger into the wet room off his home gym. 'I don't remember those fucking stairs being so fucking steep!' He turned on the water and let it run hot. 'I got towels out here somewhere. Let me just grab one then I'll get out of your hair and give you some privacy to- OH LOOK AT THAT! THEY'RE OFF ALREADY!'

Punk's fingernails dug deep into the towel in his hands while the stranger blinked back innocently, standing in his full naked glory in the middle of the wet room, his briefs tossed to the side. Eyes up! PHIL! Eyes up!

He went one better and covered them with his hand to pass over the towel. 'Here you go. I'll just be out there if you need anything so just-'

The towel was ignored. Instead, it was his wrist that was grabbed. Punk chanced a nervous peek through his fingers. Blue eyes dazzled back at him under brows that were furrowed sadly. 'What?' Punk asked a little too abruptly. He was answered with a whine so pathetic he almost immediately caved in. 'You want me to stay?' Another whine and a cat paw. Fuck! Why am I being tormented like this? I'm only human!

'Ok,' he let out a defeated sigh. 'Ok, I'll stay.'

The captivating face immediately lit up and the final shreds of Punk's resolve fell away to dust. Which was probably why, when ten large fingers began teasing the bottom of his shirt, he didn't bat them away. Let him, he's feeling more comfortable around you. He's beginning to trust you. Punk held up his arms and allowed the stranger to remove his hoodie and shirt. The stranger's eyes ignited with interest when he found the colourful ink on the cage-fighter's bare chest and arms and leaned in closer to admire them. Punk gave a nod and stood still, inviting the large fingers to follow the lines of his tattoos, skimming loops over the waves and serpent on his chest.

'Like 'em?' he asked gingerly, trying to hide the blush in his cheeks. 'Yeah, I decided pretty early on that I didn't want a 'real job' so...' The finger brushed close past his nipple and Punk felt his cheeks darken even more so quickly asked 'how about you? You got any?'

The fuck? You- you KNOW he doesn't. You can see his whole damn body, you know there's not a single damn thing on there you stupid-

The stranger shook his head politely. A shiver tickled up Punk's spine when his fingers traced the inked letters arching over his stomach.

'It says 'straight edge'.' Now he was just making conversation to distract himself, every urge and desire in his body teetering perilously close to dangerous waters. 'You know what straight edge is?' Head shake. 'It's kinda like a punk sub-culture. To me it means I don't put anything harmful in my body so I don't drink or smoke or take drugs.'

The hands had moved down to his waistband and alarm bells started ringing in his mind, loud blaring sirens that deafened him but a voice spoke louder than all of it. He's baring himself to you. Do the same for him.

'Shhhhhhhiiii...' Punk whistled through his clenched teeth as the elastic of his waistband was stretched out and his sodden shorts were gently pulled down, down over the slight curve of his ass and down his thick thighs and down past his trembling knees and down past his strong calves until they hit the tile floor. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside.

And waited with bated breath for his boxer briefs to follow.

But the hands moved away.

Instead, the stranger held his palm against the wall to steady himself and shakily got to his knees under the steaming water. Punk looked on mesmerised as the lightly tanned skin began to glisten, the long dark hair shining like strips of black velvet as it grew heavy against the stranger's scalp, loose strands sticking to that broad, beautiful face. Without warning, the blue eyes opened and shone through the foggy air, looking right at him.

He's waiting for you.

Punk gulped loudly and sheepishly walked closer.

For all his worries, their time together in the shower had actually been... nice. Really nice. Once the awkwardness wore off, Punk had focused on the task at hand and scrubbed the thick layers of filth off the stranger's skin, being extra gentle around the multiple cuts and bruises. There was something satisfying about seeing the trails of brown grime fall away and slither down the drain, leaving behind clean, golden skin.

The more acquainted Punk got with the other man's body, the more he was in awe of it. He was cut from a different kind of cloth altogether, large and chiselled, like a fearsome warrior from legend. Punk could easily envision this guy with his wild black hair and towering frame rushing into battle with a enormous sword, striking fear into anybody foolish enough to get in his way.

And yet, he sat so still and obediently. Silent, until the moment that Punk began to rub some shampoo into his hair and he let out a rumble in his throat that sounded exactly like a purr.

'You like that?' Punk chuckled. 'Yeah, I used to like it when somebody stroked my hair too. Back when I had it long, just like yours.' That piqued the stranger's interest and he pulled his head back to raise his brows high at the other man. 'I can show you a picture, if you like?'

The stranger answered with a very eager cat paw bobbing wildly.

'I'll dig some out later. Now here's a real secret for you. See all this-?' Punk motioned to his bare chest. 'Shaved. If I didn't bother, I'd be even hairier than you.' He was met with a look of skepticism. 'I swear! I'm a walking carpet if I let myself go. But it's kinda one of those pressures that come from parading around half naked for a living - in the cage, I mean.'

Then the most melodic sound reached Punk's ears. The stranger laughed. It wasn't a big one, more a little huff through his nose but it held enough mirth to fill Punk's heart full to the brim with joy. We're getting there. We're doing good!

Once the stranger was cleaned up, he wrapped him in a towel and helped him outside. The nearest seat available was his rowing machine so he locked the sliding chair and set the larger man down on it. 'You ok to stay here while I clean myself off?' Cat paw. 'Ok, I won't be long. Promise.'

He stayed true to his word and speedily showered. Pulling his boxers back on, he walked out the wet room, rubbing his damp hair with a towel but found the rowing machine empty. Fortunately, the man had not strayed far; Punk saw him standing in front of his trophy wall, admiring the myriad of belts and titles mounted in their glass cases.

'Yeah,' Punk smiled crookedly as he sidled up next to the stranger, 'I was pretty good once. These days...' He trailed off, the smile slipping from his face. 'This one here,' he pointed to one he'd stuck near the bottom, under the line of sight, 'had that one for a few days before I shattered my foot and had to relinquish it. Then won it again when I healed up and tore my fucking tricep during the fight itself and had to relinquish it again! Then the promotion decided they didn't want anything to do with me anymore so, you know, fuck 'em.'

He was sinking again! He had to pull himself back up.

'Now that one!' He tapped his finger on the large golden belt, sitting pride of place in the middle. 'I held that one for a long time. Four hundred and thirty-four days to be exact. Back then, nobody could touch me.' His chest swelled up with pride, his teeth gritted. 'And I know I can do it again. One more run. There's still some gas left in this old tank, alls I need is another chance. And once my arm heals up, I'm gonna prove it.

'They can say I'm old and washed-up all they like, doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me. I've built an empire with the bricks they've thrown at me. I have so much more to give. I need it, you know? It's like a calling, a... an urge, it's...'

Say it! Call it what it is! An addiction!

'It's like oxygen! Giving me life.' Punk felt a sudden lurch in his throat and nearly choked. 'Without it, I might as well drown.'

He nibbled his lip and bit back the tears. It felt weird, saying that out-loud. To a stranger he'd only just met. He flinched when a warm hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to find the blue eyes smiling at him sympathetically. There was a great sadness in them. The stranger pointed to the belts then placed his fingertip against his own chest.

'You? You used to fight?'

Cat paw. A mournful one.

'Did they make you? The guys who put that on you?' He motioned to the leather collar around the man's throat, the one piece of clothing he had refused to remove.

Large fingers laced around the black leather band, before curling into the cat paw again.

'But you didn't want to, did you?'

His head lowered, a shaky sigh leaving his lips as he slowly shook his fist from side-to-side.

'Is that why you have all those injuries?'

Another long, grief-stricken pause.

Until finally, he shook his fist. No.

Punk steeled himself. Already his fingers had tightened into vice-like fists at his side, shaking with rage. He knew his eyes were doing that thing his ex always felt the need to comment on. "Like a cornered feral cat," he'd say. A kind of frantic insanity in them. Like Punk was about to either burst into tears or beat the shit out of something.

Punk always chose the latter.

He took in a stuttered breath, prised his fists back open. Calm down, for his sake. There's nothing you can do. Somehow that made it worse, that he couldn't offer up some kind of justice for the gentle giant he had plucked off the streets and was nursing back to health.

But he swore.. if he ever met any of those fuckers that had hurt him, he would give them the beating of a lifetime!

The major downside of their considerable size difference was that none of Punk's clothes fitted the stranger. Even the baggiest of Punk's shirts became a skin-tight crop top on the other man. 'Damn!' Punk cursed, 'you're just gonna have to do without tonight but don't worry, we'll find you something in the morning.'

The hot shower had helped ease some of the pain in the man's leg but it had been a struggle getting him back up the stairs to the lounge so Punk decided to make up the sofa bed for him instead of risking taking him to one of the bedrooms on the top floor. Outside, the storm had settled into a haze of never-ending rainfall, droplets racing down the huge windows behind Punk as he busily layered with bed with every blanket and sheet he could get his hands on.

'I'm sure I've got more upstairs,' he murmured aloud, unaware of the stranger slinking his way underneath the mass of blankets. 'Hold on, I'll be right back.'

He ransacked one of the spare room, struggling under the weight of bed linen but stopped when he reached the top of the 'death trap' stairs and glanced down below. The sight was so wondrous, his arms fell to his side, the bed linen falling to the floor with a soft fwump.

The stranger was lying on the sofa bed, bundled up like a burrito in the blankets. His hair fanned out around his head, falling off the edge of the bed in sweeping drapes. If that sight wasn't beautiful enough, Punk discovered that the stranger was not alone. Larry had hopped up beside him and was now snuggled in the crook of his knees. Both of them looked so serene and peaceful that it brought tears to Punk's eyes.

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Punk turned and retired to his bedroom.

Alone.

He wasn't sure what stirred him from his sleep but when he spied the shadowy figure crouched next to his bed, he jolted awake!

'GAH!' He sat up with a start and raised his fist. However, he soon recognised the long hair and sparkling eyes. 'How the fuck did you get up here?'

The man didn't seem to hear the question and scrambled into Punk's bed, pulling the covers over him. 'Um.. wait, wait! What are you-?' But he only pressed in closer, whining feebly. It was then that Punk felt the other man trembling like an earthquake, so violently the mattress beneath them shuddered. 'Hey, you ok?'

The man gave another whimper and stretched out his long arms, wrapping them tightly around Punk's waist.

'Hey, it's ok, it's ok, I got you.' Punk hugged the terrified man in close. He buried his face in Punk's chest, his breath puffing against the bare skin in sharp, quick pants. 'I got you. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Not while I'm here.'

The arms held him tight, large like great chains. Warm and strong and comforting, just like-

Punk tightened his own grip, his inked fingers finding the other man's scalp and running them through his long hair, still slightly damp from the shower. It helped to soothe him so he continued, dragging his fingers through the silken strands from root to tip and back again.

Finally the breathing settled and the shaking stopped. Even when the stranger had calmed enough to fall asleep, Punk continued stroking his head, watching over him for hours on end as the rain battered the windows outside. It was only when Larry scuttled into the room and settled on the bed beside them that he felt tiredness take over and he shut his eyes, never once loosening his grip from the other man ensconced firmly in his embrace.

To be continued...

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#Thalyli-writes #cm punk #drew mcintyre #punkintyre #drewpunk #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #stray au #i really need to make some artwork to go with this au!

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ryverbind · 2 years ago

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Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Fingertips and Fishnets [9]

As if on cue, Sally walks up to us with a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. He slows his pace once he gets closer, looking between our huddled group with a bottle of Budweiser in his right hand. Ew.

Then his eyes narrow as he scoots around us and sits on the stairs leading up to the stage. Our eyes follow him, but Larry and Ash are painfully obvious about it.

"What?" Sally murmurs softly, looking between his friends and purposefully trying to avoid me from what I can tell. Do I make him nervous?

If that's the case now, then it's bound to change once he finds out I'm VioletViolence.

"Uh," Larry drags out, tapping his fingers together. "Um."

"No," I cut Larry off. "Sally's playing the game, too. We'll see if he can figure it out for himself, but," I watch Sally carefully as he looks down at his beer, avoiding all of us. "That also means he has the opportunity to get the same treatment you all did."

I feel like I'm going to vomit when Sal's oceanic gaze clashes with mine. It's like his eyes alone have knocked me off my feet. The eye contact makes my heart race, makes my knees weak, and makes me tense up like I've just gotten jostled around a bit too much. But I don't turn away from him. I watch him.

And karma is sitting on my shoulder, asking if I'm ready to get kicked in the ass for this somewhere in the near future.

And my answer to her is yes.

"Sally," I say, a bit more confident than just seconds ago despite my raging physical reactions to his attention on me. "I kissed Ash. I kissed Larry. I hugged Todd," I start, watching his eyes grow a bit wider. I have to contain a smirk from ruining this entire charade for me.

"Can I kiss you too?"

Everyone is dead silent to the point that the music blurs out in the background. We wait for an answer with bated breath, no one able to truly process what was just said.

No, Todd didn't ask. Neither did Sally. Those words came from my mouth and the bluenette was the sole receiver of that question.

I'm honestly a bit shocked by the question myself. I don't know what possessed me to ask him that. Is it curiosity? A desire for revenge? Why the fuck did I say that?

I can't see his face, but I can tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sally is hardcore gaping at me. It shows in the pink tint growing under his eyes and his wide, blown out pupils. I can't even see the edges of his eyebrows right now.

"E-Excuse me?" he squeaks out, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, I won't take my prosthetic off," he gently says, surprising me.

My nose scrunches lightly as I force a smile onto my face despite my shock. Is he really this soft and bashful? He was incredibly confident with Lexi, then an ass to Vi and y/n. So what is going on here?

"You don't have to take your prosthetic off for me to kiss you. I won't do anything you aren't comfortable with. Would you be okay with that?" I ask him, taking a hesitant step forward.

Will my mouth ever stop? And can my feet pause? Please?

My brain is fighting a losing battle with my body. I scream at myself to stop, to walk away, but I can't. I can't stop everything that's happening and the longer it goes on, the more my mind... doesn't want to stop.

Sally's rings scratch across glass as he tightens his hand around his bottle, never breaking our tense eye contact. "U-Um." He blinks at me, cursing beneath his breath. "I mean, you-- you can do whatever you want, I guess."

I flinch, trying to hide the action as a shiver. But, in truth, I'm flabbergasted. Does he find me attractive? Is that why he's so nervous but open to a kiss regardless? I don't know what to think of this guy. I've met and experienced so many sides of him, but he ends up having more fucking sides.

Will these discoveries ever stop?

"Okay," I finally push out, pinching my lips together for a moment. "One condition. It's the same condition I gave Ash. Is there anyone on this earth that you would not want to kiss you?" I'm going to be fair with him. I'm not an asshole-- if he says he doesn't want VioletViolence to kiss him, then I'll keep my distance.

Honestly, he's probably going to spit my name out in a minute here. Even if we do have some sexual attraction to each other-- even if he owes me an orgasm-- I won't kiss him without consent.

"No, there's no one I wouldn't really want to kiss me. Not that I can think of." Sally surprises me with his words again, lightly shaking his head as he speaks, still staring into my eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I ask again, trying to give him the hint. Maybe he'll catch on.

But all he does is nod, his gaze taking on a yearning glint that makes me want to turn and walk away. He wants this bad, and gosh, why does he want it so badly? I almost feel like I can hear his voice in my head, on his knees and begging me so prettily.

Why him? And why am I pushing to kiss him?

Dangerous as always.

My feet move on their own again, dragging me over to where Sally's seated until I'm staring down at him, his face just a few inches below mine. And he simply watches me, waiting patiently on the outside, but fidgeting and foaming at the mouth on the inside. I can see it in his captivating eyes. He's incredibly easy to read.

My breath comes out in shattered pants that I try to quiet down as I gently lift my hands, gaining the opportunity to slide one over the tattoo on his neck. My pulse is racing and I can feel it in every inch of my body. My heart thumps so aggressively that I'm afraid he'll feel it in my fingertips.

Sally's Adam's apple bobs as he gulps nervously, the action stealing my attention. I watch the way his throat moves, then take note of my fingers brushing over his tattoo. I can instantly feel heat pool between my legs, so I drag my thighs together to contain some of my dignity, if at all possible.

I look into Sal's eyes again, mapping out a scar in his left eyebrow and another directly under his eye. They aren't deep, but they were probably deep enough at some point if they're still here. I don't know the magnitude of his injury, but I'm an understanding person. I see why he chooses to cover himself, though I wish he wouldn't. He may be an aggravating prick, but I wouldn't miss a chance to admire his beauty.

I still ache to touch his skin and see what's hidden beneath the prosthetic just inches away from me. Part of me thinks I'll always ache this way.

I push one hand through his soft cerulean hair, nearly groaning at the contact. I thought this would be hard for him, but it's even harder for me. To contain myself even though I want to just sit on his lap and kiss him senseless-- when I want to steal his breath away so badly. He still has some restraint, but I'm holding onto mine by a worn thread.

My hand drags through his hair to the nape of his neck, then I pull gently. Sally closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them again, they're hooded-- like he's accepted his fate and is adjusting to the tense air around us. He's embracing our situation.

Cool hands brush over my thighs and I nearly jump in surprise, but I manage to keep myself rooted in place. I don't have to look down to know that Sally's weaving his fingers through the holes of my fishnets, his fingertips digging into my skin.

I take a deep, shuddering breath when he spreads his legs, using his grip on my thighs to pull me closer, letting me walk into the space he's created.

Sally's in control now, watching me confidently and lustfully, unassuming but expecting. He's ready, and I'm far from it. This is going to change everything for me, but I can't seem to stop myself. I can't make myself step away.

His painted fingernails scratch softly against my heated skin, a dull stinging feeling following the action. He squints his eyes, like he's trying to tell me to hurry up. That he doesn't want to wait anymore.

It's a snapping point for me. Just the little bit of skin-to-skin contact makes me lose all sensibility, though my ability to play the long game is still intact. Somehow.

I bring a hand up, running my palm over the rough material of his prosthetic. It doesn't feel how I imagined it would. It looks smooth, but feels more like plaster. So I use my hand to pull him toward me a bit, then I lean down the rest of the way.

I gently press my lips against his rough prosthetic lips and shut my eyes. They aren't his lips, but I'm close enough to him for now. I'm able to hear the deep, muffled breath he takes with our proximity.

Sally's fingers leave the holes of my fishnets and wrap around the back of my thighs instead, his full hand enveloping my skin tightly, making my heart race at an uncomfortable and slightly concerning rate.

His hands squeeze around my legs, the edge of his fingers brushing against the end of my skirt as he yanks me a little closer despite our lips never being able to touch. I suck in a breath through my nose at his actions, gently scratching at the tattoo on his neck.

Then, I pull away. I'm not entirely sure how I've managed to do it, but I find the willpower and separate my lips from his prosthetic ones.

He's still gripping onto my skin, my chest pressed to his-- when did that happen?-- and he's breathing hard, nearly panting. To think that I have such an effect on him. Then again, I'm in the same exact disheveled state that he's in. I can't say shit.

I release a shaky breath, looking into his intense icy eyes that stare back at me confidently, but still a bit shocked.

I bite my bottom lip. I need to put an end to this before things escalate and I put myself in a hole I can't dig my way out of. "You wouldn't even mind if the person you hated most in the world kissed you?" I breathe out, watching his brows furrow a bit.

"I don't hate anyone," Sally rasps in his deep voice. My heart skips a beat and I wish he'd squeeze me tighter. Touch me more. Run his hands over every inch of my body. I don't even care that we're on a rooftop full of people.

He smells like bergamot and leather-- just like the first time he and I met. And he must use some type of musky, masculine shampoo because I can't help but gravitate closer to him to try and drown in his scent.

"I think that's a lie, Sally," I say softly, watching him glance back and forth between my eyes and mouth. He looks like he's thinking what I'm thinking-- that he wants this prosthetic off and our lips to actually meet. "What about VioletViolence? Don't you hate her?"

Sally gulps again and I squeeze the side of his neck, running my thumb over the soft skin of his neck and wishing I could trace the outline of his dagger tattoo.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" he murmurs, his grip loosening on my thighs. Ah, he's catching onto the hints I'm giving off even if he doesn't understand them yet. He knows something's up, though.

I snap myself out of the spell I so desperately want to stay under. But, I do indulge in the opportunity a bit more.

My fingers drag from the side of his prosthetic and down the length of his neck-- over his Adam's apple and just under the collar of his shirt. "I'm not trying to piss you off. I'm trying to tell you something." I look into his eyes, practically screaming for him to read between the lines without words. "Put it together, Sal." His name falls from my lips like a carnal plea before I can even stop myself.

But his name seems to snap him to reality and he narrows his eyes at me.

My hands fall from his body as his pull away from my thighs. I don't move from between his legs though, I just watch the gears visibly turn in his head.

And I enjoy the moment he walks through each stage of grief. Fuck, it feels damn good.

I can see the second he suspects me, but thinks that it's not possible. Then, he physically grows angry at the audacity of VioletViolence thinking she can kiss him. After, he tries to think of ways he can escape this situation or get me away from him. Next, he's struggling to understand how he was able to fall victim to my vice-like, hypnotizing words. And finally, he accepts the fact that I'm standing before him.

It's gratifying to watch him regress to the anger stage. I witness the exact moment he snaps, his glaring eyes connecting with mine like a depraved animal breaking out of its cage and meeting its aggressor.

He jumps to his feet, beer bottle smashing to the ground beside us.

His face is mere centimeters from mine and I can hear his harsh, panting, angry breaths as he glares into my soul. Any normal person would be petrified, but I'm elated.

My smile makes him even angrier, especially since its wide and beaming and I can't contain it.

"What the fuck," Sally seethes, his hand slapping onto my wrist and gripping it like he's trying to strangle his most hated enemy.

Let's be honest, he's definitely imagining my arm being replaced with my neck.

Sally and I simply stare at each other for a moment, neither of us saying a word.

He's fuming to the point that I can see his red cheeks even with his prosthetic hiding his face from me. It makes no difference-- he wouldn't be able to hide this anger even if he was hidden by a wall of cement. It's in his stance, in his eyes, in his white knuckles flexing tighter around my wrist.

"How the fuck are you even here," he mutters quietly, tilting his head down as the words fall from his lips like the sweetest wine laced with venom.

In any other situation, I'd shudder, but I'm full of adrenaline. I just got to kiss the guy who's been driving me nuts (in a good and bad way) for at least two weeks now. And he's positively falling apart over my well-thought out, meticulous, and frankly, very last minute deception.

Sally Face is but a small, delicate, and fragile withered leaf in my hands right now. He's painfully aware of the fact that I could crush him immediately, but he's still fighting with all his might.

Part of me thinks he wouldn't mind being crushed by me to begin with.

"Simple," I reply to him, my voice airy and melodic just to rub in whatever shitty emotions are taking hold of him. "I was invited."

"Clearly," he sneers, slightly tilting his head to the side. He gives my wrist another tight squeeze, narrows his eyes, then rips his hand away from my arm so quickly that anyone else would think I'd stabbed him.

Which would be valid considering he stabbed me during that game a couple nights ago. I have yet to get my revenge.

Sally watches me, his slightly taller stature looming over me like some kind of demonic shadow. I never cower though, I simply stare into the eyes of personified evil and smile, relishing in the way his eye suddenly twitches. And what's more damning for him is that he doesn't say a word.

"Hm?" I hum, tilting my head menacingly, giving off the most impressive display of passive-aggressiveness. "Still can't talk to me?"

I can picture the moment Sally's reminded of the moment he betrayed his deepest desires with me two nights ago now. He blinks, eyebrows suddenly rising. If he didn't have the prosthetic, I just know his lips would be parted, trying to come up with something to say.

A choked sound leaves his throat before he quickly recovers and slaps the intimidating glare back onto the small percentage of his face that I can actually see.

Uh huh. Not your best moment, huh?

"I can speak perfectly well," Sally manages, taking a step away from me with malice practically radiating off of him. "The issue is that you can't. Hasn't anyone ever told you to use your words? You won't get anywhere without them."

I raise an eyebrow, a little offended by his claim. He doesn't know a single thing about me. Who is he to tell me that I don't talk enough? Does he have no recollection of the plethora of times he and I have bitched and bickered?

"Excuse me?" I force out, furrowing my brows. I want to know what he's trying to get at with that stupid phrase.

Sally shrugs, glancing around at the puddle of beer at his feet. "No one knows what you want if you can't communicate. It's an incredibly easy way to lose something you desire." His eyes connect with mine momentarily, the fairy lights above catching his irises and illuminating them in such a mesmerizing way. The unnatural blue of his eyes clashes with mine and I feel stuck for a moment, replaying his words in my mind and trying to deduce the meaning behind each syllable.

Once he looks away from me again, it finally clicks in my head.

I pinch my lips together and ponder over what facial expression I should make to mask the embarrassment coursing through my veins.

The audacity he has to hint that I'm on thin ice has me reeling. I don't know what to say, much less what to think.

To be as confident as he is in this moment suggests that there's a very clear reason as to why he hasn't brought up our little... adventure, of sorts, in two days. Why he hasn't spoken to me at all.

Not that I want to talk about it. But we have to work with each other for a while and based on how everyone else feels about me, this won't be that last time he and I have to meet or interact. I don't want shit to be awkward.

Hell, I don't even need him to handle up on the promise he made. I'll be perfectly happy with forgetting that it ever happened.

But, his words suggest that he's still up to honor the proposition he made that night. He hinted that he's ready to drop me and the thought of continuing whatever that was, but he hasn't yet. He made that very clear.

Suddenly, a bottle of Budweiser is shoved over my shoulder. I stare at it with wide eyes, looking up at Sally who looks from me, to the bottle, then over my shoulder.

"Here, man," It's Larry. "Ash and I went to grab you another beer. Thank Ash though, not me. I made her come with me because I have no more cash."

Ah, so that's why it's been so quiet. The two troublemakers ran off and left Todd to awkwardly watch Sally and I's showdown.

Sally snorts, unamused, simply performing the action for the sake of the moment. "Where's Ash?" he asks, his voice nowhere near as soft and kind as it was just a few minutes ago. He's completely changed tactic and even Larry raises his eyebrows at the attitude change when I look over my shoulder at him.

When Larry notices me, his eyes fall to mine and he fixes his expression, wiggling his eyebrows at me with a little grin on his pretty lips.

Oh no, look away.

I throw him a little smile before looking forward at Sally again. Yikes, gotta get used to how ridiculously hot Larry is.

Sally's watching me with a contemplative and suspicious look in his electric eyes. He reaches a hand up, his tattooed arm mere inches from my mask as he takes the bottle from Larry.

The sound of his rings clanking against glass makes me flinch and I lose a little bit of my resolve before I can think otherwise. I glance to the side, getting a close-up look at the ink on his skin. Each stroke is perfect, straight. Not a single error whether the markings are thin or straight.

I gulp down whatever feeling is clawing its way up my throat and make eye contact with Sally again.

It pains me to watch a smug look cross his stupidly pretty eyes. He watched me ogle his tattoos and I fucking hate that he knows that I'm interested in them in some way or another.

He pulls his hand away from beside my head just as quickly as he put it there. The beer dangles between Sally's fingertips as he watches me for another moment before looking up at Larry again.

"Lar?" He rasps in his sickeningly addictive voice. The sound nearly makes me choke and I have to remember to get used to attractive friends all over again. I cannot fucking stand this compromising position I've been put in.

"Huh?" Larry chirps from behind me. He throws his arms around my shoulders then leans a bit of his weight against my back, laying his head on his forearm beside my face. I swear I could vomit when his strong biceps flex around my neck, not tightly, but to the point where I can feel it. Then, his head lightly taps the side of mine and I hear an amused little hum leave his throat, the feeling of his chest vibrating against me making me want to run for the hills. He must be doing this on purpose.

He has a very specific scent. It mainly consists of some kind of musky note, but there's just a hint of cinnamon that would overpower the other smell had there been anymore added to it. It's a tantalizing combination that's enveloping me a bit too much considering the way I'm about to fling myself out of his grip like a catapult from hell.

Sally looks unimpressed as I gaze up. There's no doubt in my mind that my entire face is red. Even if most of it is hidden, it wouldn't take much for anyone to see my blush. It's quite obvious by the way Sally rolls his eyes. "I asked you where Ash was," he says, jutting his head up toward Larry who lazily sways us.

Larry's grip is unforgiving in the sense that I feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of all his hotness. Literally. There's no romantic feelings involved, nor are there any sexual ones, but it's just the fact that someone this hot is so comfortable with me. If Sal were to do this, I think I'd be reacting even worse.

Thank God I'll never have to worry about being placed in that position.

"Oh," Larry perks up a bit, nuzzling his cheek on the side of my mask like a cat would. The only thing missing is purring. "Kieran caught her, but she should be back any minute."

"She better hurry. I don't plan on staying much longer," Sally's eyes flicker to me again and I automatically glare at him, pursing my lips in a bit of a second nature response. All I ever do in his presence is glare, so I'm used to it. "And she's not coming," he continues, narrowing his eyes at me.

Larry groans behind me, the sound reverberating through my entire body. "So you've found out who she is?" Larry complains. I blink in response, trying to catch my breath as the man takes a step closer to me, his legs touching the back of my thighs. "We got here like an hour ago, man. We have to stay a little longer," Larry tries to reason. "And Vi's definitely coming with us. Leaving doesn't mean you'll escape."

The harsh look that Sally directs at Larry makes me want to shiver. It's cold, calculating, a little devilish. Poor guy. He really isn't in the mood-- but I couldn't care less.

"I came here just to see you, Sally. Why would I let you leave now?" I pout, batting my lashes at the slightly taller man who scowls.

"Fuck, you're so damn hard to be around," he nearly snarls in response, aggressively raking a hand through his fluffy hair and never taking his angry eyes off of me.

"Funny you say that," I say, excitement ripping my veins apart as I spit out a witty reply. "I'm a connoisseur of hard things. Wanna find out which ones?"

"Oooouuuu," Larry loudly pronounces the sound, seemingly impressed. I look toward him and he looks at me, his dark eyes shining with mirth and pride. "Good one," he snickers, poking my collarbone as he flashes his teeth in a sweet smile. "And yes, I would very much like to find out which hard things you are referring to." He raises his eyebrows almost as if he's offering me the opportunity to show him what I'm talking about.

I pinch my lips together to contain a grin as I turn away from him, scrunching my nose up in a nearly failed attempt to hold back a laugh. Larry is so awesome.

Sally grunts in front of me. "You could be a bit more inconspicuous about wanting to dick her down," he murmurs. "Don't know why you'd want to in the first place," he adds, but this time it's much quieter and I think I'm the only one who was able to hear.

I take a breath, hoping to quell the fire coursing through my body in response to Sally's words. Clearly, he doesn't even believe what he said about me, but I still feel the urge to prove him wrong regardless. Maybe it's just my mind trying to give me an excuse to have another moment with him. I don't really know.

"Why would I be inconspicuous?" Larry exclaims, his voice perfectly portraying how appalled he feels. And just like that, I feel much better about myself. "No one ever got laid by being inconspicuous, man. Not a single fucking person in history. I'd get on my knees and explain just how badly I need pussy to survive if it meant I'd be guaranteed a fuck." Larry snorts and nudges me with his forehead so I glance over at him, borderline shaking in his grip from trying to fight off the world's most ridiculous giggles. "Do you want me to get on my knees, Vi?"

I watch Larry's sharp eyebrows pinch together lightly, his chocolate eyes glinting in the low lighting as he suddenly turns serious, though the ghost of a smile still shows in the way his lips twitch.

It takes everything I've got to keep myself together as I lift a hand and pat his warm, toned forearm. My fingers wrap around his skin despite knowing that I should lay off the touching. After all, Larry did call me out on it earlier.

"You are such a fucking creature," I spit out, smiling goofily at the man hanging onto my shoulders. Larry can't fight off his grin anymore either as his gaze flits over my face before he looks into my eyes again.

"So..." he starts, slowly rolling his eyes to add a bit of dramatic flare. "you'd still fuck a creature then, right?"

A bellowing laugh leaves my lips and I have to close my eyes and look away from him. I don't know how he manages to come up with rebuttals like this, but it makes him dangerously hilarious. I'm honestly shocked he doesn't have a girlfriend.

"Get off of me, you fucking hooligan," I giggle, squirming in Larry's grip. He chuckles with me for a moment, squeezing me a bit tighter and laying his head on top of mine before finally releasing me from his clutches.

I stumble forward, nearly into Sally who flinches away like I'm some kind of infectious disease. The fun moment is cracked for a moment as I look up at the guarded and almost disgusted look in his eyes. But I force myself to stand up straight and take a step away from him.

The smile on my face never falls away as I spin on my heels, finally getting Sally out of my direct line of sight even though I'm standing beside him (with a good five foot distance between us, mind you).

Larry smiles with me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I look to the side, making quick eye contact with Todd who's smiling fondly at me. He winks discreetly and I wink back before looking past him and to Ash who's elatedly skipping over to our group.

A beaming smile envelops my face once Ash finally notices me. I watch her eyes grow as wide as saucers, then the way she nearly trips over her own feet while fighting to get over to the group faster.

She's so excited. I feel as though I could burst with joy and adrenaline that honestly hasn't died down even a bit since I finally made contact with The Faces.

"Ash," Sally calls from beside me, his deep voice attracting the attention of a few other party-goers around us.

I'm about to open my arms for a hug from Ash as she draws closer, answering Sally with a loud and piercing, "What!?" when my phone buzzes.

My eyebrows draw together as I struggle to pull my phone from the waistband of my skirt without dropping the drink in my other hand.

Normally, I'd let whatever message that just came in rot on my lock screen until I found the time and energy to reply, but I'm in another state and the text might be from dad.

I finally get my phone into my hands and try to maneuver it around until the screen is upright, using my hip as leverage. At some point, I can finally see who's messaged me and I huff out a relieved breath, blowing a strand of hair out of my face as I look over my phone.

Nate :P im home.

Oh, shit. My fucking neighbor. I forgot about him and I know exactly why he's texting me.

Nathan lives next to dad and I-- he and I are the same age and we went to high school together, so we get along pretty well. The guy's nice and doesn't talk much-- he drops by to play Mario Kart sometimes or to share his homemade brownies. He's been gone for over a month, something about traveling for school. I think he went to Colorado?

Me hey nate! glad to hear ur back :)

Nate :P i want my screwdriver back.

I was genuinely hoping he'd forget.

With a little frown marring my features, I shift my cup so it's clutched between my ribs and my arm as I use both hands to try and explain my situation to my neighbor. I can hear Ash and Larry chirping back and forth to each other excitedly while Sally and Todd pitch in here and there. I'll get back to them in a moment.

Me i figured as much :,) i'm uhhhh not home rn

I use his damn screwdriver to fix my headphones from time to time. Yea, I should just get my own screwdriver or a new set of headphones, but why would I do that when I have an awesome neighbor who lends me his tools since I don't have the money to replace my things?

Nate :P is that another excuse to keep it for longer.

Wincing, I type out a reply quickly, feeling nervous over how quickly he was able to see through me. That's impressive, especially since he was able to do that over text.

Me okay, yes, but i wasn't kidding when i said i'm not home, i swear :(( i'm literally in vegas rn. i'll be back tomorrow!!

Nate :P i'm holding you to that, y/n. i want my tools back or no more brownies. ever.

Me okay, okay!!!!!!! gosh :(((((( you will have your screwdriver back tomorrow night i SWEAR!

Nate doesn't answer immediately like he previously had been, so I chew on my lip anxiously as I wait. I really hope he doesn't take away my brownie privileges. I've never eaten one quite as yummy as his.

"Vi, you good over there?" Ash's sing-songish voice pulls my attention away for a moment and I look up, noting the way she's wrapped up in Larry's arms just like I was earlier. Except she's fighting it hard, scowling as he cackles.

I grin, nodding. "Yep, just handling up on some things back home."

My gaze gravitates to Sally who has the bottom of his prosthetic unbuckled and pulled up so he can drink his beer through a straw. The sight makes me want to giggle, but at the same time, I'm able to get a view of the scars on his chin which automatically quells any and all bubbly thoughts I previously had.

Fuck, I know he's hot under the prosthetic.

I peel my eyes away from him and look back at my phone one last time.

Nate :P one chance. if i don't have the screwdriver in my hands tmr you can kiss the brownies goodbye for a full month and no less.

I can't help but smile and snort out a laugh at his response.

Me gotcha. :P

With a shake of my head, I tuck my phone back into my skirt and focus in on my friends again, taking a quick sip of my fiery drink.

I watch as Ash throws an elbow into Larry's stomach, making him grunt in opposition before finally letting her go. Clearly it didn't hurt him at all, he just decided to let up for her sake. The man is built like a five layer brick wall. I don't even think I monster truck could lay him out.

Honestly, the only think that could bring Larry to his knees is a pretty girl. He said it himself-- he'd get on his knees and beg for pussy. Other than that, he's got every advantage in the world as far as I'm concerned.

With a faux frown, Larry leans down until his face is right in front of Ash's, which he didn't have to lean down much, by the way. "I just love hugs, Ash. Why won't you let me hug you?" he asks.

"Because you're you, you horny fuck!" Ash scoffs, shoving Larry away from her with a manicured hand to his face and a small, amused smile on her glossy lips. "Anyway," she continues, turning her head to me. "We're about to leave because Sal is being grouchy. You're coming with us, right?"

My lips part as I glance between my friends who silently wait for my answer-- aside from Sally.

"She's not coming anywhere with us," he instantly says, his tone biting. He never looks at me.

A smile grows on my face as I look back to Ash. "Of course I'll come with you guys," I say excitedly, completely ignoring the icy look that Sally throws me. "Where are we headed?"

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A/N::::::: I LOVVVVEEEEE THE BEGINNING OF THIS ONE ISHFOIHVFEFEHI it gets me so excited :3

anyway, hi honey's!!! i hope this chapter is as pleasing as i pictured it being! i've had part of it written for a while, but just had to add the rest. it surprisingly flowed easily once i started writing again which is fucking awesome cause i always want to give you guys my best!

as always, i'm sending all my love and positive vibes. thank you for being here and thank you for the continued support. you're all so awesome <333

P.S. to my babies who are reading/have read maybe today-- I'M COMING!!!! i'm lowkey manic right now and need to be feeling a specific way to get the next chapter out LMAO. soon, i promise <333

#sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #sal fisher #sally face #future smut #enemies to lovers #larry johnson #ash campbell #travis phelps #todd morrison

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