Fandom: All Elite Wrestling
Rating: 18+
Pairing: CM Punk/MJF
Additional Tags: Double-Ended Dildo, Toy-Sharing, Handjobs
Summary: And so... They were both bottoms.
Original Date Of Publication: July 19, 2023
Notes: An AEW Kinkmeme prompt fill.
"This-- ugh, this fucking sucks!"
"Hah, it was your idea, Max. Not my fault you picked the wrong end of the dildo."
Max scowls. Punk grins. He's having a great time, rolling his hips, lazily fucking himself on his end of the double-sided toy. No small amount of his pleasure comes from Max's frustration. Punk could have told him that a double-ended dildo isn't nearly as fun as porn makes it look, but there's some lessons that are better learned the hard way. He also could have warned Max that his younger, perkier, tighter ass would grip onto the fun ribbed end like a vise, but it's always polite to let the guest choose which end they'd like to use. And if he hadn't, Punk wouldn't be able to take advantage of it right now. His side is smooth, gently curved, and slides in and out of him with ease. When he props himself up on an elbow and hooks one of Max's knees over his shoulder, he can even grind his dick against his thigh. Not the best fuck of his life by a long shot, but it'll get him off.
Max wriggles his hips, desperate for some reciprocation, but finds none. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to impress Punk by coming up with a better way for them to get each other off. He was sick of handjobs, or mutual masturbation with their own separate toys at best. He'd been so kind and understanding when Punk told him he'd never want to fuck him (he'd only complained and tried to change his mind for, like, 5 minutes!), and all he wanted was to feel like they were ACTUALLY fucking for once instead of just dicking around. But this is PURE dickery. Maxwell Jacob Friedman is being USED. He might as well be the shower wall Punk's favorite dildo is stuck to, for all this setup is doing for him. At this point he's just jerking off to Punk fucking himself. He could have stayed in his own hotel room and done that.
"Not to harsh your vibe but uh, you think we could try a different position or something? I'm feelin' like I don't need to be here."
Punk shrugs. "You wanted to scissor like this."
"I know!" Max spits. "I know, it was my idea! And now it's my idea to switch positions!"
"You wanna go ass to ass?"
God, he hates that smug, sleazy, lopsided, shit-eating grin.
And he hates this position even more. Now he can't even see Punk, just hear him moaning and grunting. Feel him pushing back, their thighs and asses slapping noisily each time. He's getting pounded good and deep, and Max barely gets a shallow little bump for every stroke.
"Fuck, this is better, Max," Punk groans. Obnoxiously.
At least he did something right. If he was some shitty mark fanboy, sure, he could probably get off on being a tool for his hero to get off with. But he's not. And he's not. No. Max is jerking off, sure, but only because Punk isn't doing anything to help him out. And if his dick twitches when Punk comes, loud and dramatic and obviously rubbing it in, it's just a fucking coincidence, okay?
"Don't pout, Max. You look like you're gonna ask to talk to my manager."
"Maybe I should," Max huffs. He doesn't even know what he means by that. Tony's the EXACT kind of mark that'd cream his briefs if he found out his two biggest stars are fucking (or whatever the hell you call this). What the fuck would he do about it?
They separate, and Punk turns Max over. He won't look him in the eye, and his face is red.
"I get it, you're embarrassed," he soothes him, reaching between his legs to grip the flared center of the dildo. He carefully works it out-- The ridges are wider than any other toys he's seen Max use, so if nothing else, he's a little impressed by that.
"You thought you came up with something fun and new and sexy to show the boring old man."
Max rolls his eyes.
"Okay, you made your fuckin' point, I'm a stupid kid, whatever. Won't happen again, don't worry your pretty little head."
"Yeah, you are. But you put up with it and learned a lesson, so let me take care of you, asshole."
Punk flips the toy around, and Max wrinkles his nose.
"You're not putting that in me."
"Don't pretend you don't want it."
He teases around his rim before slowly sliding the smooth end into him and-- Fuck, it's still warm. It's still wet. Punk slots his body in alongside him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He strokes his hair with his free, clean hand, kissing at his jawline like a lover while fucking him with a dildo that'd just been up his own ass. Fuck. Max gives in, like he always does, melts and slings his arm around Punk. Draws up and parts his knees for him to get in deeper, at a better angle, right there. It's this mix of sweet and filthy that he's completely addicted to, that keeps him coming back no matter how much he kicks himself afterwards.
"There you go, baby," Punk croons in his ear. "Come for me, let me see you come with my dick in your ass."
That does it for Max, because of course it does. It's all he's wanted. He strokes himself through his orgasm with a light touch, while Punk grinds the tip of the dildo into his prostate hard and mean. He has to bat him away when it gets to be too much, and Punk snickers and kisses his cheek. Condescending. He sits up as soon as he's not "needed" anymore, and nudges at Max's shoulder.
"You can shower first, but you gotta go. You know the drill."
Max groans. God, can't a guy even enjoy a little afterglow? He feels Dirty now, and not in a good way anymore. Like a used whore. Like he doesn't want to be here anymore. He grabs his discarded boxers off the floor and wipes himself clean before slipping his sweatpants and shirt back on, commando.
"Sure, sounds great, except I'm not a disgusting poor with no Jacuzzi tub in his suite."
Punk just laughs at that, reclining comfortably against the headboard. Unaffected. Max slams the door shut on the way out.
And kicks himself mentally, for the hundredth time.
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