Accept No Substitutions
Standing at the bottom of the staircase, Mark didn't think he could make it. Not one more step. The effort it took to raise his hand and place it on the banister was beyond his ability. Mark faced an undeniable truth. He was not a young buck anymore.
He wasn't ready to be put out to pasture just yet. The Undertaker still meant something. To the fans. To the business. He was still relevant.
Sadly, even in the second decade of the twenty-first century, there remained too few airplanes equipped to accommodate a man of his stature. All those advertisements about extra leg room were fine and dandy for someone under six-foot-five. After a three hour flight, Mark felt like an aged Jack trying to spring out of his box. And his spring wasn't what it used to be.
Three hours on a plane, another forty-five minutes driving from the airport, and Mark was finally home. And he couldn't find the energy to climb twenty damn steps.
He left his luggage beside the door. It would keep until morning. He'd sleep in his boxers if it meant not having to lug the extra weight with him.
Twenty lousy steps.
The couch was shit. Fine for sitting and even lounging. Sleeping on it, however, was out of the question. His back would never forgive him.
At the top of the stairs were three things that Mark looked forward to most when it came to coming home. His shower, which was practically a spa. One of Mark's few splurges. It had paid for itself many times over the years. Then there was his bed, with a frame that fit him and a mattress that did not try to swallow or murder him. Of no less importance was the man that undoubtedly waited in that bed.
A warm bed and a hot piece of ass to share it. Wars had been fought for less. Mark could handle a few fucking steps.
And indeed he did. Not even the least bit winded when he made it to the top. Mark allowed himself a prideful moment before trudging to the bedroom. The closer he got, the heavier his legs became. Pushing open the door, he dragged his feet across the threshold.
It was dark. Understandable, considering the late hour. Long past midnight.
Mark's weary eyes spied two lumps beneath the covers. Not what he expected to find. He shuffled closer to the bed. Carefully, he drew back the blankets.
Jeff Hardy's arms and legs were wrapped around a large pillow. He clung on as if the thing threatened to escape. The younger man had found himself a suitable Mark substitute.
Shaking with silent laughter, Mark tried to gingerly extract the pillow. It was in his spot. While he did not wish to wake Jeff, he couldn't stay on his feet much longer. He'd end up horizontal in a matter of moments, whether he made it into the bed or not.
Once he worked the arms loose, the pillow slid free. As did a whimper from Jeff's lips.
Mark acted quickly. Slipping under the covers and into the gap. "It's just me, baby," he whispered. "Go back to sleep." He breathed a soft sigh as his body finally relaxed.
Home sweet home. With his own pillow under his head and his lover cradled against his side. What more could a man desire?
Jeff Hardy provided a superb answer.
"Missed you." Jeff's voice was thick from sleep. He pressed his face into Mark's shirt and inhaled deeply. His fingers wormed their way under the fabric. "What time is it?"
"Late." He stroked Jeff's back. It was bare. Even in the middle of winter, he slept in as little clothing as possible. Mark lovingly ran his fingers across his skin. How long had it been since they'd last touched? Ten weeks? Twelve? Three months was a long time to go without only a telephone connecting them. They had a lot of catching up to do. "Missed you, too. Thanks for keeping my spot warm for me."
At the mention of his body pillow, Jeff laughed. "I had to. I couldn't sleep without it. Not as good as the real thing, though." He inhaled Mark's scent again. "Doesn't smell like you. And I can't feel a heartbeat like I do right now."
"Guess that means I haven't been replaced yet."
Jeff draped his leg across Mark's hip. The inside of his thigh brushed against a familiar bulge. "Never."
If he had one good thing to say about his lover – and Mark could sing his praises all night long – it was that the younger man knew how to make him feel good. One of the many perks of having a partner many years his junior. Jeff had the maturity to hold Mark's interest outside the bedroom, along with a wild streak that sometimes had him rushing to get behind closed doors.
Mark's hand wandered lower, until he encountered a bare ass cheek. Naked. His Jeff wore not a stitch of clothing. Mark swore under his breath. With Jeff raking his nails up and down his chest and that firm ass within reach, sleep would have to wait.
Always considerate, Jeff asked, "Are you too tired?"
The moment he'd gotten his key in the door, Mark's sole desire had been several hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness. Somehow, a buck naked and obviously horny Jeff Hardy had not factored into the situation.
If he turned him down, Jeff would graciously accept it. No pouting. No whining. No badgering until Mark finally gave in. He'd kiss Mark on the cheek, wish him a good night, and settle back to sleep. Jeff understood the rigors of the business. More importantly, he understood Mark. The body may have been willing, but the spirit was a completely different story. If necessary, he'd wait until morning to give Mark a proper homecoming.
Three months was a long, long time. Mark might not have been some hormone driven teenager, but some of the same urges still applied. Why put off for tomorrow what he could get tonight? Even if it meant barely being able to walk in the afternoon. It was worth the heating pad.
"Not too tired." Mark rolled over until he had Jeff pinned on his back. "Not for this. Not for you."
While he might have been up for it, Mark knew his fuck all night days were behind him. He had enough in him to get them both off. After that, it was lights out.
Not that Jeff ever complained. He took everything Mark had to give and was content to merely lie beside him as their bodies cooled. On the off chance he needed attention and Mark was unable to provide it, Jeff turned to his toys.
The best was when Mark got to watch. Sitting at the foot of the bed while Jeff took matters into his own hands. Being on the road didn't mean he missed out. With the proper cellular plan, phone sex was entirely affordable. Mark got hot just listening to his Jeff sucking on a dildo. Sometimes all he needed was a snapshot of his lover on his knees, pert ass propped in the air with a fake cock shoved deep inside it. Made for a pleasant way to pass an afternoon.
No need for photographs or telephones. Mark had him live and in person. Hands and lips and thrusting hips. At that moment, Mark forgot about his tired back and aching knees. When Jeff eased down his zipper, nothing else mattered.
Mark missed kissing. Sentimental old fool that he was. Missed the soft little sounds Jeff made. Happy sounds. The sighs and hums and the tiny moan at the back of his throat when Mark nibbled on his lips. Jeff was very vocal. Which was what made phone sex so phenomenal. Sometimes Mark barely had to say more than a few words. He let Jeff do all the talking. That sweet Southern twang in his ear, breathlessly whispering all the things he wanted to do and have done to him. Wicked things, like being taken in one of those study rooms in the library. Bending him over the table and fucking him like a naughty school boy. Jeff would have to be quiet, of course. The library demanded it.
So many fantasies in that beautiful brain. All of them starring Mark. He knew to be flattered.
Urgent hands shoved down his pants. Mark didn't bother trying to take them off. Around his ankles was good enough. Their heads nearly collided when they both reached for the nightstand at the same time. A little too eager. Shaking his head, Mark grabbed the bottle of lube.
"Just slick yourself." Jeff rocked his hips, rubbing his hardness against Marks' belly. They groaned in unison.
Mark fought for a shred of sanity. Hard to come by, given the amount of friction between. Even after preparation, Jeff's tightness sent Mark's eyes rolling in his head. He couldn't imagine simply plowing ahead without laying some groundwork. Besides, he liked watching his lover unravel at his fingertips. "It's been a long time, baby."
"Used one of my toys earlier." He clutched the front of Mark's shirt as a finger teased his hole. "I knew you'd be back tonight but I couldn't wait… oh, fuck!" Two thick fingers spread him open. He moaned as they moved inside him. Slow, deep thrusts. Mark knew how he liked it. "Give it to me now… I can take it."
Mark couldn't. Somehow, between the flying and the driving and one arena after another, Mark had forgotten how damn good it felt to have Jeff squeeze around his fingers. The hot rush of breath against his throat sent a shiver down his spine. No more waiting. Not another second wasted.
Dick slick, he pressed forward. Every ache and pain melted away as he was engulfed by Jeff's tight heat. Better than jerking off in some hotel room with only a dirty picture to help him along. Needing to feel more, Mark thrust deep. Hard. Jeff's surprised gasp at being so suddenly filled brought a smile to his face.
"Not the same." Jeff groaned, fingers gripping Mark's muscular arms. He held on as his lover made up for his three month absence. "The toys… are not the same as having you. They don't… oh, god!" The head of Mark's cock rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot. Uncontrollable shudders overtook him.
Mark knew every spot. Worked every angle like a pro. When he wasn't in the ring, Mark made it his job to give his lover the most pleasure imaginable. He didn't get a fancy gold belt out of it, but feeling the nails biting into his flesh and hearing the filth coming out of that pretty little mouth… That was what he called job satisfaction. "Bought the toys to keep you company."
"But they don't… mmm… feel as good as you, Mark… Don't have your heat…"
"Don't fuck you nine ways from Sunday." Mark grinned, snapping his hips faster. This was what kept him going when on the road. Had him counting down the days. All the little luxuries of home paled in comparison to being balls deep in the finest man mad enough to love him. "Ain't nothin' rubber about me, baby."
A large hand wrapped around Jeff's dick, stroking in time with the thrusts. Being touched by Mark inside and out was his biggest trigger. Put him on a crash course with breath stealing ecstasy. No slowing down. No turning back. "They don't come inside me like you do, Mark. That's what's missing. What keeps it from being real."
They were real, the two of them. Panting. Sweating. Striving for release that was just within reach. So close. One more thrust. One more stroke. Almost there.
Jeff came first. Broken cries torn from his throat, he gripped Mark tight. Semen streaked across his bare chest and belly. Fingers tangled in Mark's hair, Jeff urged him on. "Come for me, Mark… Please… I love you."
It wasn't because he said the words. Mark didn't like to think he was that much of a sap. The declaration simply came at the right moment. Pumping hot, sticky spunk into the most beautiful man on the planet, he whispered, "I love you, too."
Completely spent, his body gave out. Mark managed to roll to the side to keep from crushing Jeff under his weight. His back already screamed in protest of his exertions. He'd have hell to pay come morning.
Jeff seemed to read his mind. "I'll give you a nice rubdown tomorrow. Head to toe."
Giving in to the siren song of sleep, he mumbled, "Rubdowns lead to sex."
"Oh, my big, bad Undertaker." Jeff laughed, wrapping his limbs around him. "Haven't you learned? With me, all roads lead to sex."
END