A punk? Troy Redshaw? Never was, never would be. "Bring it." From within Will's embrace, Troy pressed forward and off of the door so their hips met, and he moved his hands quickly so they held Omen's jaw. Their lips locked, and he gave all he had while his leg worked to kick Will's out from under him. Being barefoot and randy didn't exactly make the act easy, but somehow the other man ended up on the floor. Troy dived. "Who's the punk," his hips thrusted as he spoke through gritted teeth, "now?" thrust, thrust. He'd landed straddling Will's abdomen, and he moved his hands after getting his pelvis back under his control so they could pin Will's arms down. The blue eyes that he was staring into made just staring into them extremely difficult. He wanted to ravish Will, top to bottom. However, he hadn't quite won ravishing rights ... yet. Despite that fact, he had to tell his hand several times that if it abandoned its post on Will's wrist in order to touch Will's dong, that Will wouldn't be very thoughtful or forgiving. Couldn't relent.