DISCLAIMER: I do not own either of these men nor do I have any affiliation to them or the WWE.

So. Don't kill me. I wrote a oneshot and I SWEAR I'M STILL WORKING ON CHARLIE AND PUNK BUT THEY'RE STUBBORN AND THEY HATE ME. So here. Have some smutty smut to appease you.

There's some BDSM and a very obvious Dom/sub relationship so if that makes you uncomfortable please hit the back button on your browser now.

Reviews make my heart smile. :)

I adore him when he's like this. Part of me wishes I could tell him so, but I know it's for the best to keep my mouth shut. If I stay quiet, he'll keep going. If I say something, he'll stop. The decision isn't that hard.

He's circling me and if it were anyone but him, I might be intimidated, scared even. But it's him. It's Dean and I trust him with my life. I have for a while now. He knows it and I know it.

"Have I ever told you how fucking gorgeous you are like this?"

I nod. He has. Every single time he pulls out a length or two of rope. As soon as he sets about wrapping my body in intricate patterns and knots.

He keeps an all but constant monologue of just how stunning he thinks I am and it makes my cheeks flush. I can feel my heart start to beat just a bit faster against my ribs with every twist and turn of silky smooth rope against my skin. The small pinches pull moans from my throat and he rewards my good behavior with hot kisses to my mouth.

By the time he starts to bind my hands behind my back, I'm all but a puddle against the mattress beneath him, panting and moaning with every tug, every pinch and pull. And all the while, he speaks to me in that far off dreamy voice that he gets any time we start a scene. "So good for me Seth, baby. Look at you." He pulls a knot tight against my skin, the rope biting into the flesh of my bicep and I respond with a deep moan, the pain creating a twisted sense of pleasure in my nerves.

I can't see him, but I feel Dean move off of the bed and I bite down on my lip in anticipation. There are so many options of what's to come next, but I've been a good boy and hopefully I'll be getting a reward for following his instructions so well. I can hear him rustling around behind me, pulling some toy or another from his bag of tricks and my heart jumps just a bit when I feel the cool leather tips of a flogger caressing my skin. A moan slips from my mouth before I can stop it and I hear my Master chuckling from somewhere to my right.

"You like this one, don't you? It's our favorite, isn't it, sunshine?" He's cooing at me, but his tone is mocking and I love the way the degradation both enrages and entices me.

I nod my head, my tongue darting out to wet my suddenly dry lips.

The pain of the flogger being lashed across the skin of my back and arms is bright and brilliant. It sears and stings but resonates with a firm thud on the bits covered in rope. I cry out, arching my back but not away from the strike. No. I want more. I want to feel that delicious burn again and again until I can't take it and I beg for mercy. But the second blow doesn't come and I'm left panting, a soft whine working its way out of my throat.

"I didn't hear an answer, slut." Dean doesn't touch me now, and I know this is his form of punishment. And it works. Not having his hands on me is nearly torture in and of itself.

"Yes, sir—"

My words are cut short by a sharp blow, this time around my shoulders and I feel a few of the lashes tangle in my hair, pulling at it when he pulls the flogger back and I'm left to do nothing but moan.

"I beg your mother fucking pardon?" This time it's Dean's hand in my hair, tangling in the multi-colored strands and pulling me up suddenly, causing me to scramble to get my knees up underneath me. It takes everything in me not to moan when I feel my bare back and arms come into contact with his chest. At some point since he's wrapped me up he took his shirt off and the touch of skin on skin nearly has me begging. Nearly. "Last time I checked, Sir wasn't my fucking name."

His lips are right next to my ear, his breath seems to be scorching hot on my skin and I moan before I can stop it. "I asked you a fucking question, Seth. Now answer me." He gives my head a shove and suddenly I'm face down on the bed again and he's bringing the flogger down against my skin once more.

I writhe for a few moments, moaning as the lines of my skin where the lashes were just slapped down create a deep burn. "Yes, Master…" I manage out and I hear him hum, now running his hands down my back. I jump a bit at the first touch, but his fingertips are soft, gentle and graceful as they trace the patterns left by his own hand.

"You are so fucking beautiful…" He murmurs and I'm aware that he's musing to himself the way he often does. He continues on before pulling his hand away and I feel three slaps of leather against skin in quick succession. It leaves me reeling.

So close together, the pleasure turns into pain which turns into more pleasure and my body pours endorphins out into my system. For a moment I'm dizzy with it all. But just as soon, I can feel my lover's body bent over mine and he brushes my hair out of the way to lay a trail of soft kisses from my neck down to my shoulder blades.

"I'm gonna make you fly so high, sunshine. When I'm done with you, you won't even know your own fucking name."

The presence of his mouth is suddenly gone and is replaced with the feeling of long tendrils abusing my skin over and over again. The pattern is erratic with no rhyme or reason. At times I find myself attempting to get out of the way of the blows with no luck and yet at other moments, I let out desperate whines when Dean decides to wait longer between lashes.

By the time he's satisfied I'm already light headed, dizzy because during the process, my mind has hazed over. My body refuses to register pain anymore and every lash had become nothing but blinding pleasure. I'm barely focused. I feel like I'm flying and the only thing keeping me tethered to the current situation are the ropes wrapped tightly around my body. They feel like Dean's fingers holding me anywhere and everywhere. Or is that actually Dean's hand? I can't tell anymore.

The scent of his aftershave assaults my nose and I manage to pry my eyes open to see his face inches away from mine but his eyes have gone soft. The expression isn't wasted on me, not completely. I manage to file it away because it's so rare to see my Master so vulnerable. His voice floats in past the rush of blood in my ears. "I'm going to fuck you now, sunshine. You hear me?"

It takes a moment before I nod and slur out a response and I feel his fingers against my cheek as he speaks again, "Tell me your safe word."

I open my eyes again. My brain knows that this requires eye contact. He needs confirmation that I will stop him if I become overwhelmed and I'm determined to give it to him.

As well as I can, I steady my voice but the timbre of it is different. It almost doesn't sound like me. I've come to recognize this to be normal when I start flying, especially this high. "Jonathan." I say, not as firmly as I'd have liked were I still firmly planted on the ground, but it seems to appease him.

He presses a rather passionate kiss to my lips before his face disappears from my line of sight and I close my eyes again. It's only when I feel him sink a finger into my ass that I realize where he's gone and he's started up a running commentary again. I can't hear him. All I can do is lay prone on our bed and let him do whatever he wishes with me.

I have a vague thought somewhere that I can't believe how lucky I am to have fallen in love with such a man. A man who enjoys using me as much as I enjoy being used. A man that I trust enough to hurt me without really hurting me.

He opens me up slowly, first with one finger and slowly adding more until I can feel three digits stretching me out around his hand. He's talking to me again and I try to focus on the sound of his voice, but he's far off. For a moment I fear I'll get in trouble. And then I remember that this is Dean. He knows me better than I know myself. He knows that after a certain point I can't concentrate. Can't hear. I can't do anything but feel. Dean knows that and that's why he's so perfect for me.

As soon as I feel his hand being pulled out of me I whine. I feel empty and cold and I hate it. I want to feel him. Feel my Master fill me to the point of almost pain and then bring me back down into that blinding pleasure that will leave me stupid.

Not until Dean is bent over my body again can I really hear what he's saying. I'm aware of the blunt head of his cock hard and pressing against my ass and I try to scoot back against him but he holds my hips steady with a grip that will leave bruises once the morning light finds them. I moan and writhe beneath him until he slips the head in, teasing me.

I take it. I take it all and moan like a cheap whore but I don't care because I'm too busy focusing on the circling and grinding of my lover's hips. The not enough dip of his cock wedged between my cheeks and just when I think it's too much, he bites at the lobe of my ear, his entire body going still above mine.

A horrified thought strikes me that maybe I haven't pleased him. Perhaps I haven't been as good as I thought I had and I open my mouth to slur out an apology. I'm stopped by his hand in my hair. He pulls my head to the side and stares into the one eyes that he can see. His pupils are blown wide leaving only the slightest ring of blue around black and I'm all but overcome with lust. It's not possible for me to be more attracted to this man, I think.

But then he says it, teeth gritted and his voice a low growl.

"Scream for me, sunshine."