HOLY MOLY! It's been a while. Sorry about that. Had worlds worst writers block all summer because of this chapter. (So enjoy the fuck out of it). Plus, I've been working out kinks in the remaining story line. Which'll be fuuuuuuun. I was going to save this for when I finished the whole story, so you didn't have to wait for my slow ass. But progress on that isn't as fast as I'd hoped, so here ya gooooo.

Thanks for sticking with me this long. I'm trying to get more done, but college is a bitch. So enjoy this LONG chapter. It's like 5 pages. It rated (extra) M. Oh boy.

Thanks,

Skee.

It wasn't exactly the long night of excitement, parties, and fun I'd expected.

Or at all.

After I'd stormed off on Punk, I spent the rest of the ceremony backstage watching on a monitor.

Once I got back to the hotel I instantly stripped and headed to the shower.

My face felt lighter without all the make up on it.

Once I finished, I pulled on my trusty Christmas tree pants, and and random shirt, and went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I was still tired, and achy.

I didn't want to be awake.

I knew what I'd find if I opened my eyes.

I'd pissed Punk off last night, which meant he'd be long gone already and I'd be alone, again.

I sighed, only moments from a complete breakdown when I felt the blankets shift.

I snapped my eyes open, seeing Punk next to me, like he was waiting.

He was laying on his back, head turned to me; his shirt was off and the blanket was pulled up just above his belly button.

I had to grip the sheets beneath me, forcing myself not to pounce on him.

He was so perfect right now, his hair was all disheveled from a night of tossing and turning, and his eyes were still a little cloudy from sleep.

There was a faint smile on his face, like there is every time I wake up next to him.

I was so ready to let all my frustration and anger from yesterday melt away.

All he had to do was lean over and kiss me, like he always did.

Then say good morning, and kiss me again; it not so much the 'good morning' type this time.

I was lost in my daydream, until he spoke.

It shattering before my eyes.

"What happened to you last night?" he wasn't accusing me of anything, he didn't even sound mad.

He was just curious.

My features tightened at his words, as the whole of the night came back to me.

That's right.

I was mad at him.

I furrowed my brows at him.

"Nothing." I snapped, turning away from him.

I pulled the blanket up around my shoulders.

But Punk moved with it, probably propping up on his elbow.

I prayed for him not to touch me; I didn't know what I'd do.

Moments ago, I was ready to forget last night, but now I was furious.

I heard him start to mutter my name; his hand barely touching the thick blanket over my hip.

I jumped up out of bed, and started pacing along it.

If he touched me, I'd fall back into his arms, or slap him, or maybe cry.

And I didn't want to do any.

"I was standing there like an idiot for half an hour! Do you have any idea how stupid I felt?" I blurted out.

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, in only his boxers.

But I didn't look him in the face.

I couldn't, not if I wanted to stay mad at him.

I kept my pacing, my arms were crossed around my stomach.

I felt like I was going to spill apart, and I was trying to keep it together, at least for a little longer.

"Sitting next to an empty seat felt pretty stupid. Especially since everyone knew you were there." Punk replied calmly.

"Where did you go?" he sounded almost defeated.

It took everything I had not to look at him then.

"Not to a bar, if that's what you're worried about. Even against my better judgment." I muttered the last bit.

I'd intended it as a joke, a bad one, but a joke nonetheless.

But there was a surprising amount of truth to it.

I was sad, and angry.

And it took all I had to stay in bed all night.

"Baby..." Punk trailed on, now sounding defeated.

He reached out and grasped my waistband.

Dammit.

"No. Stop it. I'm mad at you." I started, trying to pull away, but he held me tight, pulling me closer.

"Stop acting so sweet! You can stay mad at me for weeks! Why can't I stay mad at you for one damn day!" I yelled, feeling his hands on my hips.

My hands covered my face, I had no idea what to do.

Or even what I was feeling.

His hands slipped around my back, and he pulled me closer.

My legs hit the edge of the bed, and I felt him leaning against me.

I moved my hands from covering my eyes and looked at him.

His head was against my stomach, his arms wrapped around me, hugging me tightly.

"Because I'm a dick." he muttered jokingly.

I scoffed lightly.

"You're telling me..." I trailed on, hearing the delectable chuckle come from in front of me.

It sent shivers through my body.

I could feel Punk smile against me.

He was all too aware of what that did to me.

"You looked beautiful last night." he whispered against me, his hands slowly pulling up my shirt, exposing a tiny bit of skin of my stomach, just below the dark ink that resided there.

"Yup..." I muttered, embarrassed.

He smiled against that little sliver of skin.

He knew I wasn't good at accepting compliments.

My fingers gripped at my shirt collar, it the only way I could stop myself from reaching out and touching him.

I wanted to so bad.

I wanted to run my fingers through his mused hair, making it worse.

To feel the heat of his skin on my palms, his heartbeat quicken in time with mine.

To feel the sweet scratch of his beard against my lips.

God I wanted it so bad.

But the fear of him rejecting me again paralyzed me.

As I agonized about what to do, Punk looked up at me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his hands moving down to the back of my thighs.

He pulled at one, making me put my knee on the bed next to him; then the other.

My face was down at his level; sitting on his legs.

My hands were still clutching my collar.

I stumbled around with my words a bit before I spoke.

"I feel like you're starting to pull away from me.." I mumbled, staring down at my hands around my neck.

I didn't want to really say the words; I didn't want them to be true.

"Babe, I'm pretty sure I'm doing the exact opposite." I looked up at him, and his shit-eating grin.

"I meant in the last few days."

At that his grin faded.

I knew something was wrong.

But from the look on his face, it wasn't something he wanted to talk about.

He was conflicted and hurting.

But wouldn't let me in.

Couldn't?

He looked away from me for a moment.

He fought with himself, torn between saying something or not.

It was written all over his face.

And it hurt me.

The fact that there was something so important but he just couldn't tell me, hurt.

But I didn't want to lose him right now.

I finally let my hands free of my collar; both reaching out and cupping his roughly coated cheeks.

"You don't have to say anything right now." I whispered to him, now leaning closer.

Tentatively, I pressed my lips against his.

I felt him still against me, immediately, I pulled away.

But before I could fill my head with all sorts of nonsense, Punk's hand was in my hair, pulling me back to him.

His lips were rough against mine, like he was starved for me.

I was so shocked and excited, and maybe even a little confused, I didn't dare move.

I waited for him to make the first move.

Just to make sure we both had the same idea.

His tongue slicked over mine so perfectly.

My hands eased from his face to down on his shoulders.

Punk's hand in my hair met his other one at my waist, yanking my shirt up and over my head.

Our kiss was only broken for a moment, then he went to my neck.

I let out a sigh, relieved that he made the first move.

After that, my hands couldn't stay still; they were all over him.

From his shoulders, to into his hair; his brown locks running between my fingers several times over.

By the time I tore them away, his hair was standing almost completely on end.

I felt his lips continue down my chest, finally caressing over a breast.

He took the already peaked nipple into his mouth; his tongue teasing me relentlessly.

I pulled in a shaky breath; my heart beat quickening.

His one hand came up from my hip to palm my other breast in time with his mouth.

He was a little more rough than usual; it drove me wild.

I'd been a week since we'd been this close, aside from some innocent kissing, and I was determined to keep us here.

I breathed heavy in his ear, letting out faint moans as he worked maddeningly well on my flesh.

My hands slipped down from his hair, tracing over his shoulders again, then his arms, and back to his chest.

I took my time, feeling each short chest hair against my palms.

Punk was still sucking and licking and rubbing me, now alternating between my breasts.

My hands slipped further down, his own nipples tightening as they slid between my fingers.

His stomach was exactly the same, amazing and smooth; I reached his boxers waistband.

I tugged at it with both hands; he eagerly lifted himself to let me pull them down.

I didn't have to move the shorts much before he fell out.

I sucked in a big breath at how hard he was.

It'd been too long.

I'd barely ran my fingertips over his hot flesh, before he broke his lips from my chest with a gasp.

"Fuck Eli, your fingers are cold." he groaned as I slipped my hand around him fully.

I smirked as he took in another shaky breath.

His face now rested against my marked shoulder, his lips kissing over the dark skin.

I shivered.

The blotchy, deep red stain that marred my skin had always been my weakness.

But Punk was so gentle with it, reminding me just how perfect he was.

I nuzzled his cheek with my own, urging him to look up.

When he did, I kissed him.

My tongue and my hand moved in time with each other.

I slicked my tongue over his bottom lip, while rolling my thumb over his slick head.

Punk tore his lips from mine, his breathing heavy.

I smirked, reveling in his rapidly slipping self control.

It was so out of character for him to be this throaty and desperate.

It was hot.

My hand moved faster around him; he literally started squirming.

"Eli, wait." he started, out of breath and whining.

"Stop, I'm too close." he breathed out.

He'd leaned back some, and I could see his face; his eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

I couldn't stop myself from leaning forward and latching my teeth onto his hot throat.

I stilled my hand as I sucked on his neck, biting him hard a few times.

He was definitely going to have a nice welt there later.

I felt his hands slide up my thighs, even through my pants, when I finally pulled back.

He was starting to regain his composure.

Starting to regain control.

And soon he'd have me; but I didn't want that.

I wanted to have him this time.

Have him dazed and disoriented, and aching for me.

I wanted him to scream my name, begging for me to let him taste sweet release.

And there was only one way to do that.

His lips came back to mine, stronger and more determined then before.

His fingers started tugging on my waistband when I pulled away.

I was on my feet barely a moment.

He hadn't even gotten time to ask what I was doing, before I was on my knees in front of him, tugging at his boxers still around his legs.

I left them on the floor, scooting closer to Punk, and looked up.

I barely held back my giggle.

He looked completely dumbfounded; it wasn't like I hadn't done this before.

With a smirk, I took hold of him again.

His fingers wove into my hair tightly.

He let out a groan about my cold fingers, then a sigh when I started to move my hand again.

Each of my strokes were met by a groan from his throat.

Until I pressed my lips to his head.

That got me a flat out moan.

I smiled, and continued kissing him along his shaft, and slicking my tongue along my trail of kisses.

But our moment was interrupted.

That damn phone again.

I stilled, and looked up at him.

It didn't seem to phase him.

But it kept on ringing.

"You going to get that?" I asked sarcastically.

He looked down at me, swallowed, and shook his head no.

I couldn't help the smile that stretched across my lips.

"Good boy." I muttered, and slipped his head between my lips, letting my tongue play over it.

I didn't move any more, not until the ringing stopped.

And when it did, I didn't wait any longer.

There was a sharp hiss when I pulled him into my mouth, followed by another groan.

I slicked my tongue along him anywhere I could get, then started to suck.

"Fuck, Eli!" Punk moaned out.

That was just the beginning.

The closer he got to his release, the louder the ear porn got.

I'd finally gotten into a nice, fast rhythm that made Punk squirm and moan with every pull.

I was so occupied with sucking him, that it took another few seconds for the, once again, ringing phone to register in my head.

I pulled back quickly, taking a deep breath through the mouth before I spoke.

"Popular boy, aren't you?" I asked, only slightly frustrated.

Punk whimpered, beyond displeased that I stopped.

"Eli, please." he begged.

I cocked a brow at him, and slowly moved my hand up and down his shaft.

He fingers pulled tight at my hair, as he let out a big moan at my torture.

"God, Eli, please." he pleaded, his voice cracking a bit at the end.

I waited for the ringing to stop; not being one to disappoint.

I slipped him between my lips again, and sucked him hard a few more times.

"Eli! Fuck, I'm going to come!"

I could barely hear him over the sound of my heart beating in my ears.

So I didn't hear his warning when he spurted hot fluid into my mouth, it slipping down my windpipe.

Instantly, I pulled away, coughing.

But Punk kept going, his fluid splashing against my chest.

Moments later he stopped, and I'd almost stopped hacking up a lung.

I leaned my head against his knee, and tried to catch my breath.

Punk pushed the hair in my face, behind my ear.

I looked up at him, my eyes blurry with tears from coughing.

"Damn, you're hot." he said, then a click.

I blinked the tears away, to see his phone between us.

I furrowed my brows.

"Fuck you." I muttered playfully.

He smirked.

"You already did." he chuckled, making my fingers tense around his thigh.