Jeff tilted his head back so that the warm spray could run
down his face, soothing the last of the bruises. He turned,
and groaned as the tense muscles of his back started to
relax. He hadn't been wrestling -- the doctors weren't
going to let him wrestle yet. Instead, he'd been stuck
behind a table at the fan event, signing autograph after
autograph until his writing hand had cramped up and his
back was spasming from his bent over position, and he'd
smiled so much that his face hurt. He would be so glad when
the doctors gave him to go-ahead to enter the ring again.
The pounding he got there was definitely preferable to
spending hours with the so-called fans.

But he was nearly healed from the pounding that the
Undertaker had given him. He'd seen the doctor that
morning, and the man had cautiously said that he might be
able to get back into the ring the next week. His ribs were
completely healed, and there was only a faint shadow of the
bruises that had turned his skin almost as multi-colored as
his hair.

He was almost itching to get back to *real* work, although
he wasn't sure what was going to happen then. Despite the
lack of decent tag-teams, McMahon was insisting on pushing
him and Matt as singles wrestlers, which is how he'd ended
up in the ring with the Undertaker. Realistically speaking,
it had been an incredibly uneven matching, but Jeff hadn't
objected, even though Matt had. His brother was way too
overprotective at times. But that angle had been milked as
much as it could, so McMahon was going to looking for a new
one. Just as long as it didn't involve that twink, Rico, or
either Booker or Rikishi, Jeff would probably be fine with
it.

Jeff turned the water off and stepped out of the tub,
reaching for a towel. He toweled off roughly -- pleased to
note that there were only a few twinges left, much better
than the first week after his match with Undertaker -- then
wrapped the damp terry cloth around his waist. It didn't
cover enough, being one of those undersized hotel towels,
but he didn't need much. Whoever his roommate for the night
was, he hadn't shown up yet.

Technically, Matt was supposed to be his roommate, but it
didn't really matter what the assigned pairings were, the
wrestlers and support people usually ended up shuffling to
suit themselves. Matt was rooming with Lita, naturally. Her
assigned roommate, Jackie, was with Edge, who had evidently
seen something he liked during the Diva thong contest. Good
thing her relationship with the guy back home hadn't lasted
much past her getting that contract. And so on, and so on.
Management should just give up.

Anyway, it didn't really matter who he roomed with. He
hadn't been with anyone since Molly had dumped him a few
months ago for Helms. She'd already dumped the poor shmuck
for Regal, and the betting pool was on for who she'd go for
next. Despite the persona she was trying to project these
days, the girl had slept with more people than anyone else
in the fed. Before that had been Raven, but that man had
pissed of Vince one time to many, so he was gone,
permanently.

Jeff should have known better than to get involved with
Molly, considering her history, but he had an unfortunate
tendency to let his dick do his thinking for him.

Being single now, Jeff ended up rooming with everyone from
Kane to Trish, and even Heyman once, which was a nightmare
in itself. The sleazebag seemed to think that everyone
should be happy to get the chance to get to sleep with him,
and it had taken a sprained wrist and bruised balls to get
the man to take no for an answer. After all, Jeff did have
*some* standards.

Still, he was shocked to come out of the bathroom to find
the Undertaker sprawled out, barely fitting on one of the
room's tiny arm chairs over next to the window.

"Undertaker," Jeff said cautiously. He knew that the man
had a real name, but over the years 'Undertaker' had gone
from a ring persona to the man's identity, and no one
called him anything else.

Jeff briefly debated whether he should make a break for the
door. Possible beating versus the embarrassment of being
trapped in the hall with just a tiny piece of terrycloth
covering him Worse, he'd had to push through a crowd of
screaming teeny-boppers to get into the building, and if
any of them managed to get inside, running into them like
this could be a fate worse than... He stayed.

"Hardy," the man said, then stood up. Somehow it was worse
when the man was standing. Probably because he was so much
taller than Jeff, not to mention a hundred pounds heavier.
This could get bad real fast if the man was still holding a
grudge. "You're looking better. How are the ribs?"

The question caught him off guard. "Almost back to normal.
They were just bruised," he said, bringing one hand up to
touch his side where the worst of the bruises had been.
They were still a little sensitive, but not painful.

'Taker nodded. "And the bruises are nearly gone. Any other
injuries?" Jeff shook his head, puzzled. "Good. You going
to be wrestling again soon?" Surprisingly, he actually
sounded interested. Probably wanted to know when he was
going to get another shot at him, Jeff thought to himself.

"The docs think I might be able to next week."

The big man frowned. "You coming after me again?" His tone
of voice had suddenly become menacing, and Jeff froze.

"Only if the boss insists," he finally said, and was
pleased to find his voice almost completely steady.

"All right." Undertaker's expression lightened, although it
never reached anything that could be considered a smile. In
fact, Jeff couldn't remember ever seeing the man really
smile. Smirk, yes, smile, no.

There was silence in the room for a minute, and Jeff
finally started to relax. It was definitely looking like he
wasn't going to get pounded into paste that night. Still,
just what was the man doing there? Jeff hoped that he
wasn't going to be his roommate. Somehow, he couldn't see
himself sleeping a wink with the other man in the room. He
started eyeing his suitcase, wondering if he could get past
'Taker to get to it. This would be so much easier to deal
with if he was dressed.

"So. You got my attention."

"Huh?" Jeff frowned at the unexpected comment.

"You wanted my attention. You've got it."

The conversation was definitely getting surreal. "I'm not
sure what you mean," he said cautiously. Something was
going through the other man's head, but he would be damned
if he could figure out what it was.

Moving faster than any man his side had any business doing,
'Taker was suddenly in front of him, so close that Jeff
could almost feel the man's body heat radiating off of him.
Definitely too close, but when Jeff tried to step back, the
man grabbed him by the arm. It wasn't a tight enough grip
to hurt, or anything, but he definitely wasn't going to
break it. Jeff cursed himself silently. He should have
taken the initial chance to run, and who cared if he got
mobbed by a bunch of teenaged girls.

The Undertaker lifted his free hand a brushed his thumb
across Jeff's lips in a way that could not possibly
misinterpreted. Jeff hissed, and the thumb pressed into
his mouth. "You have my attention. Now. What do you plan to
do with it."

The thumb was removed from his mouth, and 'Taker reached
down to pull the towel away. Then, a large, solid hand to
the small of his back pulled Jeff firmly against the larger
man. A solid mass pressed against his belly, and his own
body began to react. Damnit, it had definitely been too
long. Celibacy screwed with his common sense. He could not
be seriously thinking about...

"Better tell me to go, if that's what you want. I might
even listen." The man's deep voice was just as menacing as
before, but this time, it sent shivers of a different sort
down Jeff's spine. It wasn't too different from the feeling
he got when he was about to do some incredibly stupid stunt
on his dirt bike. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No." Shit. You would think he'd learned his lesson with
Molly.

That got him another of the Undertaker's almost smiles.
Then the man's mouth came down on his hard enough to
bruise. Jeff groaned, and opened his mouth for the
onslaught. One leather-clad thigh was rubbing between his
legs. The other man was playing him like a violin, and
Jeff's libido was overwhelming his mind so much that he
barely noticed.

But finally his better sense got control, and he pushed the
larger man away. The man obliged, but Jeff couldn't shake
the feeling that 'Taker was laughing at him. "If you think
you're going to break me this way, it won't work any better
than the beating you gave me in the ring," he said
suspiciously. And it had been a beating. He'd been
hopelessly outmatched in size, weight, and experience. Not
that that had ever stopped him before.

"If I wanted to break you, you would be more than just
bruised, little boy," 'Taker growled. "I would have left
you battered and bleeding, your career over. Broken toys
are no fun to play with."

"So I'm a toy, am I?" Jeff asked, not sure whether he
should be amused or insulted.

The Undertaker grabbed him by the arm, then tossed him onto
the bed. "The best kind," he said, landing on top of Jeff,
driving the air out of his lungs. "Now, shall we see just
how 'extreme' you can be?"

Jeff grinned, the adrenaline rushing through him. He
squirmed a little to free his legs, then wrapped them
around the Undertaker's waist. "Yes, let's," he said, then
squeezed hard.

He might not have the sheer muscle of the other man, but he
was still strong, especially in the legs. The Undertaker's
eyes went wide as Jeff slowly squeezed the air out of his
lungs. Finally, 'Taker's grip on him relaxed, and he
released the vise grip and wiggled out from under the man.
'Taker lay gasping on the bed as Jeff laughed from the
other side of the room.

"Brat," 'Taker wheezed.

Jeff just grinned. "I've been called worse."

"You know what happens to brats?" 'Taker's eyes were
gleaming now.

"I've got a few ideas, but they won't work while you're
wearing that much clothing," Jeff pointed out.

The Undertaker growled again, but he also started to strip.
The heavy boots hit the wall next to Jeff, leaving a black
mark that the hotel staff weren't going to like. The jacket
landed somewhere in the vicinity of the chair the man had
been sitting in before. Then the leather pants -- nothing
under them, Jeff noticed -- hit the floor. Jeff resisted
the urge to whistle. 'Taker was definitely big all over. He
hoped mister dead man walking had brought supplies, though.
Jeff didn't have any handy, and there was no way he was
taking that thing without *lots* of lube, and 'Taker didn't
look like the type who bottomed.

Finally, the T-shirt came up over the man's head, very
slowly, revealing firm muscles covered with tattoos and a
light dusting of hair as red as the curls between his legs.
Jeff watched, mesmerized by the play of muscles under the
skin, and as a result was caught completely off-guard when
the musky-smelling shirt hit him in the face, and he was
knocked to the ground.

"Shouldn't let your guard down, boy," 'Taker said when he
managed to knock the fabric out of his eyes. Jeff was
shocked. There was an actual grin on the man's face.

'Taker had Jeff's hands pinned to the ground, and Jeff
noted that the man still had his leather half-gloves on.
Strangely, 'Taker naked except for the riding gloves was
one hell of a turn on. "Oh, yeah, you like this, dontcha,"
'Taker said, rolling his hips. Both of them hissed as their
erections rubbed together. "Yeah, this is gonna be a real
good ride."

The Undertaker stood, but managed to do it without letting
go of Jeff's wrists. He half-dragged Jeff over to one of
the beds and sat down. A moment later, Jeff was face down
over the man's lap, with an erection trying to drill a hole
in his stomach. "What the hell?" he sputtered.

"I told you, you were being a brat, and you know what
happens to brats."

The sound of 'Taker's leather-covered palm hitting Jeff's
ass was obscenely loud in the small room, but all Jeff felt
was a sting, followed by a warm tingle. The Undertaker
paused, as if he were waiting for a protest, then struck
again. The slaps continued until Jeff's ass was hot and the
tingles were on the verge of becoming painful, and Jeff was
harder that he could remember being in years. He'd never
tried this sort of sex play before, and now he was
wondering what else he might be missing.

Then he was flipped over onto the bed, and he hissed as his
sore ass hit the bedspread. The Undertaker was watching him
with an intent expression, and Jeff moved against the
bedspread, reaching down to stroke himself. The
Undertaker's eyes went even darker. "Liked that, boy?"

Jeff ran a finger across his stomach where the other man's
pre-cum was smeared, then very deliberately licked it
clean. "Maybe," he said with a grin.

Then he nearly shot off the bed when the 'Taker reached
down and grabbed his balls, hard enough to make him wince,
but like the spanking, not quite hard enough to be painful.
Then the other man licked the index finger of his other
hand, very slowly, until it was shiny wet, and shoved it up
Jeff's ass, not slowly at all. Again, almost pain, but not
quite.

"Shit!" Jeff hissed, and 'Taker chuckled.

"You better not," the man warned. Then he let go of Jeff
completely, making the younger man complain. "Easy, boy. We
aren't finished yet." He stood up and walked over to where
his jacket was, and pulled a tube and several flat foil
packages out of one of the pockets. Then he dropped the
jacket on the floor and sat down. "Come here," he ordered.

Jeff wasn't crazy about taking orders, but by this point he
was so horny that he would crawl across broken glass if
that was what it took. All it took was a glance from the
other man, and he was on his knees.

The Undertaker was definitely in the category of highly
blessed, and there was no way he was going to get that
monster down his throat. Hell, he wasn't sure that he was
going to be able to get it up his ass, but he was sure
going to try. So instead of trying to suck it down, he
started licking it for all he was worth. It was musky, but
not dirty, smelling of clean sweat and pure male. Jeff
grabbed the base to hold it steady, and slurped his way
around the head until it was shiny with saliva.

He was really starting to get into it when 'Taker pulled
him away by the hair. A condom package and the tube of lube
was slapped into his hand. "Get me ready."

Jeff felt like even the breeze from the air conditioner
might set him off. He took a couple of deep breaths, then
pulled open the foil package. He pinched the tip carefully,
then rolled the latex down on the man's cock. He checked
the tube before flipping open the cap to make sure it was
both water-based and industrial strength. He smeared a
generous amount onto the other man's erection.

"Turn around," 'Taker ordered, taking the tube back from
him.

Jeff did as he was told. He heard a squelching noise, then
'Taker's finger was back up his ass, this time coated in
lube. It rotated back and forth, deliberately making
contact with his hot spot, making him jump each time. Then
the finger was withdrawn, only to come back with a friend.
Jeff reached down and grabbed his own cock, right below the
head, and squeezed hard to keep from coming. The extra bit
of pain was just enhanced the whole experience.

Then the fingers were pulled out, and he heard a wiping
sound before he was grabbed by the hips and pulled
backwards. The head of 'Taker's cock slid along the crack
of his ass, but the other man didn't show any signs of
wanting to help it find its mark. "Do you want it?" the big
man said hoarsely.

Jeff took a deep breath, then reached back and grabbed the
Undertaker's cock and held it steady. He let the breath go,
and let himself be pulled down.

The first pop as the head breached the opening brought a
tear to his eye, and he held steady, waiting for the burn
to fade. 'Taker didn't seem to be in any hurry. He breathed
deeply until he felt the muscles start to relax. He pushed
down a little further, and was surprised to find that it
didn't hurt. Just more of that burn that set his nerves on
fire.

"Get ready," he heard the man say behind him. Then he was
yanked down hard.

"Argh!" he yelled as his ass hit the Undertaker's lap. For
a moment he thought he was going to black out. He panted
through clenched teeth, riding out the pain. But when it
started to fade, he was surprised to find that he hadn't
really been ripped in half by the cock that felt like it
was trying to hit the back of his throat. Then the
Undertaker lifted him easily, and pulled him back down
again.

He didn't actually have to do anything. The Undertaker was
strong enough to bounce him up and down on that monster
cock like he was some sort of over-sized sex toy. Good
thing, too, since his hot spot was getting so hard a
massage that Jeff was surprised that he could even remember
his own name. He was breathing in time with the thrusts,
breathing in as he was raised, his breath coming out with a
grunt was he was lowered. He grabbed his own cock to start
stroking, but the Undertaker grabbed his wrists and pinned
them to his side, using them as handles to continue lifting
and dropping him. But that was all right, because any
second now...

Suddenly Jeff was flying. He landed on the bed, was flipped
on his back, his knees pressed up to his chest, and 'Taker
was back inside him, fucking him even harder. His back was
protesting the treatment, but the pain combined with the
pleasure, carrying him higher and higher. His hands were
pinned over his head by one of the Undertaker's hands,
while the other one pinched first one nipple, then the
other, hard enough that it sent sparks through his body,
heading right for his cock. The pounding rhythm was getting
harder and faster, until he felt like his head was going to
blow off.

Then the Undertaker grabbed his cock, and stroked it hard.
"Come," he ordered, then bit down on the spot where Jeff's
neck met his shoulder, and Jeff felt the skin break under
the other man's teeth.

And he came. Hard enough that he felt his juice hitting the
underside of his chin. 'Taker's stubble was scratching his
chest, blood was welling up from the bite, his nipples were
shooting pain, even though they weren't being touched
anymore, his cock was being milked roughly, and his ass was
being opened wider than it had ever been before. His eyes
rolled back in his head, and everything went black.

>>>~~~<<<

When he came too, Jeff felt like he was floating. Nothing
was real. His ass was empty, and it seemed like he could
feel to cool room air reaching up to his bowels. His entire
body throbbed.

A damp cloth was being run over his body, and he opened his
eyes to see the Undertaker cleaning him up, a small smile
on his face. He was also fully dressed. Jeff stretched, and
winced as muscles filed a protest.

"How do you feel?" the other man asked.

Jeff grinned. "Like I'm flying," he said dreamily,
stretching his arms to the side.

"Good." The facecloth hit the wall with a splat, then slid
to the floor. A bit of man-handling later and he had Jeff
under the covers, the blankets tucked up under his chin.
Jeff wanted to pull the other man down with him, but he was
too tired. 'Taker kissed him, very gently considering what
they'd been doing not too long ago.

"Stay?" Jeff asked.

"Sorry, kid. Gotta go." Jeff was disappointed, but the hand
ruffling his hair made him feel a little better. Besides,
he was still floating. "You ever want to go flying again,
just let me know. I'll bring some toys next time."

Jeff smiled, even though his eyes were already shut again.
"Sounds like fun," he murmured into his pillow. He heard a
soft chuckle.

"Get your rest," 'Taker said from a distance. "Boss says
you get a shot at the other belt next week. You're going to
kick Regal's ass." Then the door shut.

The intercontinental belt? Wasn't the big one, but it was
nice and shiny too.

And after that, maybe he'd get to go flying again.

THE END