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it was no secret that jeff was using.
not that it seemed to matter much anymore. the constant references to his less-than-clean lifestyle during matches ‐ scripted or not ‐ had long since worn down any concern he once had about what people thought.
boundaries were meant to be crossed in the ring.
vince certainly didn’t care. hell, the man had walked around wearing a durag simply because he thought it was funny, and because it brought attention to wrestling.
and it worked. most people laughed. most people didn’t care.
it was scripted. fake.
the injuries weren’t, though. neither were the addictions.
no matter how hard he tried to stay clean, it never lasted. the craving always returned. burning beneath his skin. aching through his bones until he finally gave in.
this time was no different.
he was high out of his mind, barely capable of holding a coherent thought together. he knew he shouldn’t have come here, but it was hard.
too hard.
not to see him.
...
“what are you doing here, jeff?” punk’s voice is stern, though the concern lingering in his expression softens the edge of it. hardy looks completely wrecked.
“phil..”
the risk-taker leans heavily against the doorframe. his face paint is smudged beyond recognition, as if he’d gotten wasted the second he clocked out for the night.
jeff stumbles forward, reaching for him.
his footing gives out before he can make it more than a step.
punk catches him immediately. one hand settles against his lower back while the other steadies his hip with practiced ease. “easy, man.”
jeff wastes no time throwing an arm across punk’s shoulders. he leans in close, pressing the bridge of his nose against the side of the other’s neck.
he inhales deeply.
for the first time all night, some of the tension seems to leave him.
his free hand drifts to punk’s bicep, fingers curling around it.
another slow breath.
then another inhale.
he forces himself upright as best he can, lips hovering dangerously close beneath punk’s ear.
punk doesn’t react.
doesn’t flinch.
doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.
if anything, it’s almost as though he’s gotten used to this by now.
jeff showing up without warning.
calling for him.
reaching for him.
holding on like he's afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go. “jeff, you know you can’t keep showing up here, right?”
a quiet hum escapes him. after a moment, he nods. “yeah. i know.”
“then why do you keep coming here?”
punk already knows the answer.
he just hopes that’s not all there is to it.
“because.. i miss you, phil.”
“no.” punk shakes his head gently. “you don't miss me. you miss how i make you feel.”
the correction is immediate, and jeff’s grip tightens. “ain’t that enough?”
punk looked almost offended by the question.
“what?”
“ain’t. that. enough?” he repeated, as though saying it slower would somehow soften the blow.
“no. no, it isn’t enough.” punk snapped before pulling the other man inside and slamming the door shut behind them. he shoved jeff back against the solid surface, fixing him with a hard stare as he pressed a finger firmly against his chest.
jeff tipped his head back, meeting punk’s gaze despite the conflict evident in his expression.
“don’t you want to be clean?” punk demanded, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
“of course i do,” jeff answered quietly.
“then why won’t you even try?”
the risk-taker fell silent after that. he simply looked at phil with softened eyes, almost like a neglected puppy desperate for attention. his brows drew together as he leaned forward, his focus settling entirely on punk.
punk immediately stepped back.
“no.”
“c’awn, man.”
“we shouldn’t be doing this anymore,” he warned. “you shouldn’t be coming here every damn time you get an urge and expect me to fix it.”
something in those words seemed to strike a nerve. hardy immediately pushed forward, panic flashing across his features.
“what are you sayin’? that we can’t at least fuck or somethin’?”
“i’ve been saying that for weeks, and you still refuse to hear it.”
“you never push me away.”
punk fell quiet. his lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he had no response. “jeff.”
“exactly. so what’s different now?”
punk exhaled sharply, frustration evident in every tense line of his posture.
“nothing’s different,” he shot back. “that’s the damn problem.”
hardy let out a low grunt as punk dragged him away from the door and shoved him back against the wall. it was an unfamiliar display of force outside of entirely different circumstances, and the reaction it stirred within him was impossible to ignore.
punk noticed the grin tugging at the corner of jeff’s mouth.
that only made his irritation worse.
he hauled him forward again before forcing him back against the wall. another sound escaped jeff as punk stepped closer, invading his space completely.
“this what you wanted, jackass?” he sneered. lips brushing over the sensitive spot just behind his ear.
jeff hummed in response, one hand settling against punk’s side, fingers curling lightly at his hip.
“god, yes,” he admitted.
punk immediately pulled away.
“that’s exactly the problem.” the words landed harder than any physical shove could have.
“phil—”
“stop.”
“i want you to‐”
“no. you need to listen.”
for once, jeff actually fell silent.
punk stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head.
“you keep coming back because you know i won’t turn you away,” he said quietly. “and i keep letting you because i don’t know how to. neither of us is helping the other.”
hardy’s expression hardened. “then.. just one last time?”
“you know we can’t—”
“i don’t care what you have to say.” jeff cut him off. “it’s either yes or no. i won’t ask again after tonight.”
punk stared at him in disbelief.
“just tonight?”
jeff nodded, his hands settling against phil’s hips as he leaned forward until only a fraction of space remained between them. “please.”
the silence stretched between them.
eventually, phil let out a long sigh. “fine.”
“seriously?”
“yes, dumbass,” phil replied. “but under one condition.”
jeff hummed thoughtfully, instinctively moving closer before a hand rose and stopped him short.
“hm?”
“you listen to everything i say. understood?”
confusion flickered across jeff’s face. his brows knitted together before he rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say, princess.”
phil immediately frowned.
*
with a strained gag from jeff, a subtle wrinkle of his nose as he permits his jaw to loosen for the other’s use. his eyes glossed over from the intensity of punk’s rough treatment.
punk’s hips surge forward with force that draws a sharp exhale from jeff, his cheeks hollowing as the tip of phil’s length presses against the back of his throat.
jeff’s head collides with the wall as punk grips his hair, tilting his head back while driving his hips forward. “this is so much better. you shutting the fuck up.”
jeff raises his hands to grasp the sides of the other’s thighs, attempting to match the rhythm, but punk clearly intends to take his throat relentlessly.
the risk-taker’s throat throbs from the duration the chick-magnet has spent stretching it. “gahgawknh–”
“you’re still trying to talk despite your mouth being full?” he taunts, black-painted digits curled in his hair tugging sharply to penetrate his throat deeper. “it’s whatever the princess says, right?”
jeff emits a low moan at the combination of sensations. “mm-hm-”
punk’s free hand descends, hooking beneath hardy’s jaw to secure him in place before thrusting his hips forward and holding still.
allowing the rainbow-haired warrior to experience the entirety of him. to savor him.
jeff, meanwhile, appears completely overwhelmed: eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused, body quivering. both indications of substances affecting his system.
yet he appears undeniably appealing in this state.
ruined, and wrecked, even the slightest trace of saliva trailing down his chin as he struggles to accommodate more, given that punk never allows him time to adjust.
then punk withdraws suddenly with a vicious pop sound from the other’s lips: which are swollen and glistening with spit. parted and breathing heavily.
phil allows his length to rest against jeff’s face, who hums softly.
punk slowly rolling his hips forward with a teasing motion. jeff turns his head slightly, moving down to press kisses along the shaft to the seam before descending further to attend to the other’s balls.
jeff appears eager, and ravenous for more despite his usual aversion to being compelled.
a hand glides down from his jaw to the back of his neck to cradle it gently, fingers threading through colorful strands. “mhm, yeah. keep going, baby.”
the petname affects him profoundly, for he immediately returns to the glans to relish the taste of precum upon his lips before engulfing the entirety in one slow, slick, sticky descent to the base.
nose pressed to pubic bone.
then hips buck, claiming that delicate and warm throat. which causes jeff to gag once more, though if he desired cessation he would signal accordingly.
otherwise, punk approaches his first climax of the evening.
his hips continue unabated, rolling his pelvis forward to groan at the constricting sensation around his length from jeff. eyes watering, and widening momentarily before closing slowly.
withdrawing, punk grips himself.
stroking just above hardy’s face with rapid, deliberate movements. then jeff opens his mouth, tongue extended as if inviting phil to bestow upon him a personal marking.
“give it to me,” he encourages, smirking as his lips curve into a slight smile whilst maintaining his mouth agape.
with several more swift strokes, phil releases. seed emerging in thick, viscous strands upon his tongue, chin, and cheek.
but jeff is quick to lean forward, latching onto the tip to receive it all. rolling his skilled tongue around it before swallowing, then popping away with a satisfied hum.
“what a cumdump,” phil degrades, and jeff offers him a pleading expression reminiscent of a puppy who has just been struck.
“you aren’t done, are you?” he inquires, and punk scoffs with arrogant confidence.
“no, of course not,” he sneers with irritation.
what does jeff take him for?
a single-release, low-stamina disappointment?
he ought to hope that were true.
a hand moves swiftly to grasp colorful tresses, and without uttering a word, he appears to already be guiding the other onto the balls of his feet to lead him forth toward his room.
jeff has no alternative but to follow, and follow he does.
*
the risk-taker firmly guides punk against the silk sheets of his bed, straddling his hips as he leans forward, swiftly capturing the other’s chin.
jeff’s lips meet punk’s own in a passionate kiss, and punk allows it, indifferent to the taste of himself lingering on that tongue. his hands and mouth are preoccupied with hardy.
digits grasp at the hems of shirts and tug them upward, momentarily pulling away before discarding the clothing aside. his hands trail over the other’s tattooed body, exploring wherever he can.
it’s almost as if punk missed him more than he wished to acknowledge, as he touches him gently despite an underlying agitation. his touch is almost tender.
then fingers move down to unfasten pants, grasping the buckle of his belt and discarding it. phil needs the rainbow-haired warrior undressed almost immediately so he can explore him fully.
jeff’s tongue presses against phil’s, the feel of the tongue piercing evokes a smile.
the chick-magnet intensifies the contact, leaning deeper into the kiss, transitioning it into more of a make-out session. swirling his tongue around hardy’s and moaning into his mouth when the older's hand encircles his growing erection.
punk quickly snatches his hand away and flips positions, pinning hardy down with his own body before sliding back to nestle between his legs, pulling down those stubborn jeans and boxers.
jeff’s arousal rests flat against his belly, hard and releasing globs of precum, pooling slowly against his stomach.
a sight that’s hard to overlook. especially when he appears so disheveled and uncertain.
punk largely attributes that to the substances: hardy usually fights to be the one on top, even when intoxicated.
but when he doesn’t resist, complain, or lash out, god, is it pleasurable.
punk momentarily pulls back, retrieving lube from his drawer. returning, he finds jeff already spread out for him. but instead of taking his position, he slips beside him on the bed.
kneeling, he pops the lid open and squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers, resting on his side to guide his free hand over the other’s shoulders, encouraging him closer for another kiss.
rubbing the lube along his fingers to warm them, he slides his hand down between the other’s hips, middle and ring fingers teasing the pink center, “relax for me.”
jeff huffs, eyes shifting down to see punk’s hand between his legs before he moves to cradle the side of phil’s face, deepening the kiss, “want it to hurt,” he confesses.
phil hums, complying as he gently pushes his fingers inward past the tight ring of muscle.
his thumb glides along the seam of jeff’s privates, as his fingers rhythmically work in and out of the other’s entrance.
a groan escapes him, knees drawing inward but punk nudges them apart again. scissoring his fingers along fleshy walls, and curling upward so digits press to that spot that makes jeff jolt and whimper.
and phil knows he has found it because the other moves his hand down from his face to his shoulder to grasp tightly. accompanied by the sound he releases, “nnh–”
“there?” he taunts, then jabs his fingers into that same spot. jeff bites his lower lip with a moan before turning his head to observe phil's hand working his fingers in and out of him.
“mm.. yeah, right ‘ere.”
punk continues, stimulating that one spot repeatedly. curling his fingers upward and scissoring them once more, “should have left you begging for it. such a needy whore.”
jeff slides his hand from his shoulder to his bicep and down to grasp his elbow. moving his head inward to conceal himself in his neck, “i know-” he manages before moaning again.
his shaft throbs, and he swallows hard. his adam’s apple bobbing in the process, though punk cannot see it he does hear the gulp.
punk leans forward so his lips press to the other's ear, teeth catching the earlobe. releasing to moisten his lips, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”
jeff growls, resenting the manner in which he speaks to him as though he were merely some subordinate. “fuck you- ahn-”
“i am doing that, am i not?” he purrs, slowly withdrawing his fingers before kissing his way down jeff’s throat and moving from his position to the foot of the bed. hands moving to slip his trousers down and off completely, his length already rigid again despite his recent release.
shimmying his way beneath knees once more, he brings legs to his shoulders to keep them spread, moving a thumb to that pink center before pushing his thumb inside to stretch the ring of muscle.
spitting upon it before his free hand grasps his own member to align the tip of his length to that winking entrance.
“can you stop starin’ and fuck me already?” hardy nearly snaps before one of his hands moves forth to press to punk’s chest.
“hmm, impatient as always. alright, alright,” he murmurs, then repositions himself and presses forward with a low groan. not bothering to be gentle since he has taken into account that jeff did want it rough.
jeff gasps, his head tipping back with a guttural moan. painted nails rake down phil’s chest, indifferent to the manner in which they leave reddening marks. “fuck–!”
punk hums. he does not wait for the other to adjust, hips pulling back only to thrust forward with a harshness that draws a blissful moan from hardy.
head dipping forward as heavily lidded eyes fall upon the display of punk gazing down at him as though he were the only thing that matters in this moment.
strands of his long noirette hair falling over his face slightly as his hair is secured back into a messy ponytail.
his thrusts are rough, meaningful in the most optimal manner. and indeed it hurts with the absence of adjustment.
jeff is savoring every second of it, particularly when phil lowers his legs and leans forward to place his hands on either side of him and capture his lips in a smearing kiss.
the risk-taker’s hands move to grasp the chick-magnet. fingers curling to hold onto his shoulders, drawing him closer as his pace quickens.
it elicits a mewl from jeff in a manner no one else typically could.
jeff pulls away from the kiss to release a desperate cry, especially when the tip of the shaft strikes that bundle of nerves inside him directly, “haa–ah! oh shit- please.”
“please, what?” he taunts, driving into him deep and hard - the nails of hardy’s hands bite into the flesh of phil’s shoulders then rake down deliberately.
“more. give me more, phil,” he encourages, and punk leans down to drag his tongue along the jugular of hardy’s throat. latching his lips onto the adam's apple to suck firmly, sufficient to leave a mark.
then hips slow, rolling his pelvis slowly yet deep. the risk-taker despises slow, and he has made that evident through the manner in which he would typically drive his hips into punk as though punishing him.
“you son of a- ohhnn.. my god-” he whines, moving his head forth to press his forehead against the other’s shoulder when the tip of his length was practically massaging against his prostate.
it was nearly sufficient to push jeff over the edge.
hips surge forward, forceful and unrefined. then punk accelerates his pace, showing no indication of stopping unless jeff requests it. which he knows he shall not. the man was too enveloped in bliss to care.
particularly when he draws phil closer, extending his legs to fold them around his torso. heel pressed to the small of his back, “you’re drawing me in deep. you missed me that much?”
“no s-shit sherlock–” he spits with a harsh tone, his southern accent slipping more than usual. “gettin’ close-”
punk mentally notes the warning, so his hips shift slightly. with rapid motion, the buck of his hips grows rougher as he attempts to approach his own climax to finish with the other.
a hand moves to cup the back of jeff’s neck and digits slip up to tangle within colorful tresses, tugging slightly to mouth over his neck, “gonna squirt on my dick?” he coos, and hardy shivers.
“don’t say it like that-” he sneers, but phil can tell he liked it by the manner in which his walls constricted around his hammering shaft.
“you liked it though.”
hardy’s nostrils flare, “i hate that i did.”
punk chuckles, then presses a kiss to the other’s jawline, “cum for me.”
and he does precisely that, moving a hand up to muffle the sound that escapes his throat. his length twitching and thick strands paint his stomach.
punk is not far behind because with merely a few more deep thrusts, he drives his hips directly into the other’s prostate and releases his load. claiming what is rightfully his even though he swears he despises jeff.
he rides out his climax, rolling hips back then forward to drive his seed deep inside jeff almost as though it were intended to be a reminder for when he is sober.
he rests his head against the other’s, moving his hands down to grasp his hips with a firm hold.
remaining thus for several moments. then finally does he withdraw, earning a fatigued sound from hardy.
he appears exhausted, and still admirably wrecked.
punk shifts and positions himself beside the risk-taker, resting on his back as his uneven breaths cause his chest to rise and fall.
they remain thus for a considerable while. simply lying in silence aside from their breathing that eventually slowed.
punk would have assumed jeff had fallen asleep but that assumption is quickly proven wrong when he slowly rises from where he lies. hair disheveled and neck covered in punk’s markings, moistening his lips.
usually jeff would inquire whether he could stay, plead even, or request some water but he has not spoken yet, and it was concerning the best-in-the-world more than it should.
before he could even utter anything, jeff was already rising far too quickly for even punk who is swift to sit up in case the other required his assistance.
but he does not, he supports himself with the edge of the bed. slicking his hair back, he had not even glanced back at punk yet.
“i’ll get out of your way, phil.” that same southern tone as always, and he is already moving to dress himself.
punk is offended by the fact that jeff has not even looked at him, and now had the audacity to simply rise and depart as though what they shared was nothing.
as though he were not tired and probably required rest for even a brief moment.
“jeff,” he begins. but hardy ignores him, already fastening the buckle of his belt. “aren’t you going to say something, man?” he snaps before moving to grasp the other’s wrist but his head turns and he gives punk a side glance.
“you said we can’t keep doin’ this, and i’m just tryna do my part.”
punk doesn’t acknowledge the comment at all. instead, he simply tilts his head before pushing himself up from the bed.
“are you thirsty?”
“no, i need to go—”
“jeff, you can stay tonight.”
“i said i need to go. what is with you?” jeff mutters, catching his pierced lip between his teeth as he folds his arms across his chest.
“i just want to make sure i didn’t hurt you.” phil pauses briefly. “well.. not too badly. i didn’t tear anything, did i?”
“you didn’t hurt me. now i’m headin’ out.”
his voice is quiet, but the irritation beneath it is unmistakable.
before phil can respond, jeff brushes past him with a rough shove and heads straight for the door.
phil hesitates.
he turns his head slightly, watching him leave, but he doesn’t follow.
his molars grind against the inside of his cheek. every instinct tells him to go after jeff, to stop him before he walks out the door, but he already knows how that conversation would end.
another argument.
just like always.
and he can’t even send a text afterward.
this was supposed to be the last time. he had made jeff promise.
hardy had never been particularly good at keeping promises, but somehow phil knew this was the one promise he would keep.