Fandom: All Elite Wrestling
Rating: 18+
Pairing: "Hangman" Adam Page/CM Punk
Additional Tags: Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Verbal Abuse, Dumbification/Fucked Stupid, One (1) Slur
Summary: Adam proves who the real airhead is in AEW, if only to himself.
Original Date Of Publication: August 21, 2023
Notes: An AEW Kinkmeme prompt fill.
Adam taps his fingertips on the back of Punk's head as it bobs in his lap.
"What was that thing you said that got everybody all riled up, again?"
It's a rhetorical question. That would be obvious to anybody with half a brain to use, but Punk's only got half of that right now. The rest is singularly focused on choking himself on Adam's cock. So the stupid, slow part he does have to work with actually tries to mumble an answer around his shaft. Probably something dumb, not even the answer he's looking for. Just automatic words because he's being asked a question and he has to answer. Adam shoves his head all the way down to shut him up.
"No, I remember now. 'Every woman in this business is a rat.' That was it. You were really callin' the kettle black there, huh?"
Punk starts to squirm and scratch at his hips, so Adam lets him back up. He keeps a constant pressure, though, controlling, making him slide slowly up his length until it's out. Hot, heavy, and dripping wet, it rests against his face. There's still a little venom left in Punk yet, squeezed out by digging up his past.
"Why don't you tell that to your 'super-faggot' boyfriend?" He rasps. His throat sounds raw and sore from the abuse it's taken.
Adam smacks Punk's cheek with his dick-- a solid, meaty impact that puts a little bit of haze back in his eyes. He sees his tongue almost dart out to meet him when he drags the oozing tip across his lower lip, just before he clamps his teeth shut in a snarl. Adam chuckles.
"I think I just did."
Punk opens his mouth to spit something back at him, but the words are slapped right out of his head. And that slap puts him down even further than before. Adam shoves his fingers in his mouth, and he doesn't even bite. He pushes his tongue between them, around them, sucks on them and drools down Adam's wrist. Adam lets out a shaky breath, stroking himself absently. Punk called him empty-headed once. Twice, come to think of it. But now, there's really nothing going on upstairs. Like as soon as he's manhandled and gets something to suck on, he turns into a complete airhead slut. If he can just barely fight his way back to cognizance now, Adam can't wait to see how he acts with another hole filled.
His fingers aren't enough to do the job. Clearly, too many others have gotten there first. The sight of the ragged slit between Punk's ass cheeks turns Adam's stomach a little, but it zaps fresh arousal and adrenaline through his veins, too. Clearly, he's not the first one to figure out the best way to shut him up. If only he'd known sooner.
"This is all it takes to get you under control, huh?" He sneers.
Punk mumbles dumbly into a pillow. He's too preoccupied rocking back against Adam's hand, taking three fingers and wanting more, to come up with anything coherent. Especially when Adam slaps his flat ass hard enough to sting his own palm. Punk mewls at that, arching his back and actually managing to clench down around Adam's digits.
"You talk a big game, act like a big man, but now look at you. The second a real man gets his hands on you, you're nothin' but an empty-headed dumb fuck. Sound familiar?"
"Uh-huh... Uh-huh..."
He almost sounds like he's sobbing. So stupid and desperate to be fucked that he can't control himself. His dick dangles red and rock hard between his shaking thighs. Adam turns him over onto his back. He bends his knees and spreads his legs for him without even being asked, blinking blearily up at him.
"'Uh-huh' what?" Adam asks. He rubs the head of his cock around Punk's rim, teasing. He has to keep his free hand clamped down on his leg to stop him from just fucking himself on it.
"Did you even hear what I just said? Or are you just so fuckin' needy, you don't care what you say yes to?"
Punk's face goes a little redder. There's a brief relapse of higher brain function, a flash of recognition as he struggles to remember. Yet again, Adam rips it away just as he starts to get a grip, breaching him with just the first couple inches.
"I-I don't-- I don't know," Punk whines. "I don't know, I don't-- don't stop, please?"
"I know you don't. You don't know anything, do you?"
The deeper and harder Adam fucks him, the more of his brain seems to leak out the other side.
"That's okay. You don't need to know anything. Some people are just meant to be stupid, brainless whores. But you're so dumb, you can't even remember what you are, huh?"
He doubts Punk fully understands what he's saying anymore. Maybe a couple words-- his breath hitches when he's called a whore, at least. But Adam can't stop now that he's started. He's got a lot to say to him, whether he gets the message or not.
"You don't know why you keep barkin' at every big, mean dog you see. You don't know why you wanna start fights with 'em, until they get you by the scruff and hold you down and remind you that you're nothing but a dumb bitch in heat. Ain't that right?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah--"
Punk can only moan and chant like a pretty girl in a dirty movie. But he's not a pretty sight by a long shot. Maybe he would have been, once, when he had bleached blond hair and a sweet little waist and all those cute, shiny piercings to tug on. Maybe when the eyes crossing and rolling back in his head weren't in such deep, dark sockets with such puffy, red bags underneath. Now his body's so used and abused, inked skin loose and creasing across his soft belly as Adam folds his legs up. Now he winces at the strain in his spine and his teeth are chipped and uneven and yellowed. And it's a damn good thing Adam's as generously endowed as he is, or else he's pretty sure Punk would be too loose in the back to feel anything. He's too gone to even kiss right. His tongue is too floppy and all his mouth is good for is sucking mindlessly on anything it can latch onto, so he gives him his fingers again instead.
"All that empty space in your skull, and all you can think about is how to fill it up with cock. Maybe I shoulda brought the EVPs with me, we coulda really squashed the beef between us."
Adam bends Punk fully in half, driving in deep with both his dick and his fingers. Curling and petting the back of his tongue until he coughs and gags, and tears form at the corners of his eyes.
"Yeah, this is the only reason you're still around, ain't it? Can't win with looks or personality, but you got a couple pretty holes to use, and even that's pushin' it. You're lucky you got me, or else you'd have to put up with both Bucks to fill this stretched-out fuckhole."
That hits something in him. Some button that hadn't already been jammed in and broken. Maybe some deep fantasy or something, because he makes a sound like he's dying and convulses under Adam, and shoots off all over his own chest. But even then, he's still not done. He doesn't try to push Adam away or shift angles to ease the overstimulation as he keeps pounding his ass. He takes it. Links his ankles at the small of his back, lets his head loll back, and rides the waves while the last traces of sense tremble their way out of his body. Blissed out. Nobody home. Smiling faintly, with his tongue hanging out when Adam takes his fingers out of his mouth to hold his saggy waist with both hands. Even when he hilts himself and fills Punk up to the point of leaking around his shaft, Adam's still so fucking frustrated. Even when he leaves Punk gaping and sore to clean himself up. Even though he can see the bruises on his skin, bruises he put there.
He wanted to get one over on the stuck-up old man. But it still just feels like Punk's gotten exactly what he wanted.
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