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꒰🔞꒱﹒Tender Was Your Vice﹒⟢

A PunkHardy fic (CM Punk x Jeff Hardy)

➵ Everyone has vices, even the most unexpected people. Sometimes vices you just can’t hide from others, no matter how hard you try— Just ask Jeff Hardy.

Smut (Angst heavy) | Oneshot | Playlist | 10.8k Words | Masterlist

Tags; ambiguous setting (time period, location), 2000’s setting, MLM relationship, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers dynamic, situationship, drunk sex, under the influence, dyed hair, touch starved, misleading exterior, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, oral (m receiving), anal, spit as lube, cum as lube, implied dacryphilia, mutual coping, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, bottom!jeff, top!punk, genital piercings, forced feminization, actual happy ending, p0rn with feelings, hint of sir kink

Trigger Warnings; probably dubcon, mention of substance abuse, mention of being high on drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, mention of self harm (hitting, hair pulling), addiction relapse

Taglist: @brays-fireflies6 @xtremerulez @hardyfrotter @xnightmarexpunkx @heel-glam @twistofhardy

Punk and Jeff hadn’t always been so bitter to each other. Unbelievably, they were even once friends. But their personalities and dynamics changed, shifting rapidly overnight and they lost each other. Punk got sober and painfully so, going on to drown himself in the “straight edge” life style, abstaining from alcohol and drugs. He even began to think he was better than those who weren’t sober like he was.

Jeff was never good at hiding his addiction, in complete honesty. He could even tell you that. He could never hide when he was high, getting lost in chasing his next high— But the brief periods of sobriety felt like living hell. He hated relapsing and never being able to stay clean like Punk and those around him, it felt like torture. His body felt weighed down and sluggish in every painful movement he made.

Vicodin and other pain killers was all he had to ease his pain. Multiple injuries to his back, knees, and head made every day almost debilitating to go through. Pain pills weren’t all he took; cocaine was another drug of choice. The Vicodin did its job, numbing away the pain and putting him at ease. The coke on the other hand— it gave him a a rush similar to that of adrenaline, one he needed to carry out his death defying stunts in his matches. Alcohol just made it all a little fun. Booze mixed with pills made his brain feel fuzzy like tv static.

For once he liked the silence inside his head, the floaty air headed feeling the mix gave him. Of course drinking never happened at work but the drugs were a different story. Alcohol was too easy to pinpoint on someone, the smell on breath and clothing always gave it away. He only did it when he knew he wouldn’t be around management.

Punk saw Jeff around backstage, always keeping distance from him unless he had to cut a promo or fight with him. For as much as he pushed his “straight edge” and drug free persona, he was fighting tooth and nail to avoid relapse. All the times he could smell the liquor on Jeff made him want to pound a few shots and have a good time. But he remembered something important; the shots down the hatch made Jeff always look so tantalizing, almost impossible to look away. A single drink led to a night he would ultimately forget, having absolutely no recollection of the next morning— even as the puked his guts out.

The burning under Jeff’s skin was impossible to ignore. The pulsing in his bones and skull was palpable, causing him to see double vision. His body hurt and head throbbed as he wandered his house. He had been sober for just over a week but he was desperate to get the feeling to end. The thought of going out to a bar was much more intriguing than sitting at home sad and alone. He wanted fun, some nonstop action for just a little while until he got tired again.

He grabs the box from under his bed and dug out a few hydrocodone pills and a dime baggie of coke. He popped the tablets into his mouth and swallowed them dry at first before reaching for an old cup of water that had been sitting at his bedside for a few days already. He quickly shoved the bag into his pocket and stood up, pain shooting down his spine and legs. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, just like he always did.

He approached his pile of laundry he had yet to put away— and probably never would. He threw together a decent looking outfit, his favorite black mesh top and some jeans along with his usual accessories. He pulled his clothes on, sluggishly getting the job done before shuffling his way into the bathroom.

He stood at the sink, hands pressed against the counter as he stared himself down. His gaze was piercing, like he tried to stare a hole straight through himself. He finally broke away from his own eyes and splashed himself with water, allowing it to roll down his throat and chin. He looked at himself in the mirror once more, damp hair clinging to his face.

The light brushing and faint tickles of his hair angered him beyond reason. He bared his teeth like an animal, yanking his own hair repeatedly and hitting himself in the head with an open hand. The vibration in his skull dulled for a moment, the new pain being a distraction from the ongoing aches. It made his head go silent, finally stopping his racing thoughts— even if it was only for a brief few moments. He pulled his own hair harshly before letting go, allowing it to fall naturally.

After this minor meltdown, Jeff tied his hair back into a ponytail to keep the annoying strands out of his face. He knew that if he didn’t, he could very well end up ripping strands out that pissed him off too much. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t much of a rarity. The strands he would pull out were usually very small but all those times add up a lot. He wasn’t balding by any means, which was extremely lucky for him.

Hardy finally dried his face and grabbed his eyeliner pencil, leaning in close to the mirror to get it just how he wanted it. He used a finger to hold down his bottom waterline and drag the product across it. He smudged out the bottom to make it look more like the usual way he did it. He stood up and checked himself out in the mirror, hands on his slim waist as his eyes critically scanned his reflection.

His eyes closely surveilled his own figure as if searching for some imperfection he knew was there but couldn’t quite find. He looked suspicious about himself but the buzzing from his phone made him snap out of his thoughts. He looked at it with disgust, ignoring the call that had made that vile noise. He shook his head as he shoved his phone into his pocket— getting a nice long look at himself.

“Fucking hell. Leave me alone.” He grumbled angrily, brows furrowing at his reflection. It was an irrational anger at his poorly figure. He didn’t think he could ever be happy with the way he looked.

He turned and approached his bedside table, swiping up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter to accompany them. He slid the items into his pocket and barely remembered his keys before he left the room. His feet padded over the carpet, his ears agonizingly aware of each minute sound. The crumple of each microscopic synthetic carpet fiber assaulted his eardrums. He swore he could hear his own muscles shifting and moving inside of him. He hadn’t even taken a line that day yet. Maybe that was the reason why?

He bent down and laced up his usual black boots, ones he wore nearly every time he went out. They were steel-toe and very sturdy, perfect for mosh pits at the local alternative bar he frequented.

Having been so caught up with work, he hadn’t had the chance to go lately. But finally he got a nice long break to enjoy himself, being temporarily suspended thanks to getting caught smoking weed with a few of his coworkers. The past few days he spent his time passed out on the couch, in bed, or on the floor and higher than a kite on pain killers. He didn’t bother with the snow, like the bag in his pocket, since he didn’t need the energy boost.

However, tonight was a different story. Tonight he wanted the thrill, the drive to party— hopefully fuck away his dull thoughts and shitty self image. He needed to escape his sad reality surrounding him. The apartment was painfully quiet as he stood there, eyes darting between the living room and the front door. The silence was deafening, so bad to the point that he could hear almost everything. A shrill tone continued to cut through the air, one he had grown very accustomed to over time. The hum of the fridge from the kitchen echoed sorrowfully through the walls. He had nobody to fill the hole in his heart, nobody to cut through the silence or over thinking.

He sat on the edge of his couch and looked at the mess of his coffee table, a craving he couldn’t resist stared him right back in the face. He used a random rewards card laying near by to cut up lines, thin and neat on top of the glass. He grabbed a rolled up single dollar bill and carefully placed the note just inside his nose. He bent over the table, covering his other nostril and inhaling the beautiful white powder. He switched sides and leaned his head back after he had made the lines disappear. His eyes burned and watered as he allowed the drug to enter his system.

Finally with his little kick, he felt ready to go. He patted himself down, checking for cigarettes, lighter, snow, and keys. With all of his belongings in check, he opened the front door and locked it from the inside before finally stepping outside. It was just about sunset, it would have been dark about the time he got to the bar.

His hands tapped against the steering wheel, fidgeting to the beat of the music coming from the radio. The sky was painted with breathtaking hues of orange, purple, and pink. Passing cars and buildings turned into blurs, the streetlights sparked across his vision.

The bar parking lot was always packed, even on the slowest days. Jeff knew this by heart at this point which aided in his decision to park in the lot across the road. He shifted the car into park and shut it off, taking a long minute to collect his thoughts. The silence of the car brought back the shrill ringing in his ears he had unfortunately grown accustomed to over the years. He removed the keys from the ignition and looked across the road at the doorway that would lead to his escape from the night.

Standing against the side of the car as he fished out his cigs and lighter from his pocket, taking a minute to enjoy the sharp menthol flavor slithering past his lips. There was a soft breeze dancing through the air, soothing against his warm skin. His eyes closed slowly as the wind swept through his hair and the menthol burned his mouth delightfully. He took a while to prepare himself and finish his smoke, tucking his pack and lighter into their previous resting place before locking the car.

The tapping of his boots echoed in the alleyway as he approached the door that he had gone through so many times before. Finally he reached the heavy metal door, eyes slowly scanning the graffiti and stickers littering the paint and surrounding brick. His hand slowly lifted and opened it, cringing ever so slightly at the loud squeal the hinges made. It was louder than he remembered, however he would be met with the loud thumping music from the underground club.

His feet carefully pattered down the stairs, the dim fluorescent lighting buzzing above as he descended. The smell of smoke, weed, and alcoholic wafted through the air, a painfully familiar scent for Jeff. It was like an old friend that wronged you but you still talk to once in a while, still keeping your distance. He slipped past a couple aggressively making out on the steps, a pain striking through his heart. A sudden taste of bitterness filled his mouth.

Jeff knew he was lonely but he usually never minded much. But when he saw couples being affectionate, it hurt deeply. He was alone at home, his apartment was always painfully silent aside from the hums from appliances. The silence was deafening, only making the shrill ringing in his ears even worse. He usually kept on his tv just for some background noise or played his favorite music.

His hand pressed against the cold metal of another heavy door, shoving it open to enter the underground watering hole that he knew so well. The live music was playing loudly and people were crowding near the stage. The lights were off except for the stage, the bar top, and the shitily backlit booze shelves behind the bar. People were already packing the place full, chattering and socializing with drinks in hand.

He slithered his way through the crowd and to the bar top. By some miracle, he managed to find the single seat that was open— a lone spot between two different couples who were minding their own and chatting amongst themselves.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute.” The bartender said with a friendly smile, shaking the mixer quickly in his hands. “No rush.” Jeff returned with a small shrug of indifference.

It was a busy night for the workers but Jeff had all the time in the world to waste. He loved being in this kind of bustling and lively environment. It made him feel alive the same way his work did, always seeking the next thrill in life. At work, he was able to do death defying daredevil stunts. Here in his sanctuary, he was able to have fun and still get that same rush.

Jeff loved to fuck and makeout, hell that’s mostly the reason he started even coming to this place. He wasn’t a whore by any means, the man had standards at least. A few drinks in his system and eventually you would find him with someone’s tongue halfway down his throat, whether it be man or woman— although most of the time he preferred men. He enjoyed to be the one being grabbed and handled roughly by a stranger.

His eyes scanned the crowded room, eagerly searching for a potential amant temporaire— temporary lover, or a hookup. There were a few men that caught his eye or at least intrigued him. He spun around when he heard someone’s knuckles tap the counter behind him.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked. There was a pause of consideration before a response would leave Jeff’s lips. “I’ll take a vodka Red Bull and a lemon drop, please.” He finally said, ordering the two drinks he was tied between getting. “You got it. Coming right up.” The other man smiled with a small nod.

He sighed and leaned his head against his hand, waiting patiently for his drinks to be made. He wanted to drink and have fun, the drugs were already flooding his system which just pushed him even more.

Closing his eyes, he listened to the loud thumping music playing just for the patrons. Each buzz of the bass painted his eyelids with vivid colors, swirls of neons and primary colors. He loved utilizing his imagination when he had nothing better to do, imagining what he could paint next to distract himself from his shitty dead end life and the sorry silence of the place he called home.

His eyes snapped open as he heard the clink of the glasses on the wooden countertop. He slipped the bartender some money to pay for his drinks and pay off the remaining balance on his tab. He was quick to chug down his vodka Red Bull, sucking down the energy drink mixed within it.

He could feel his heart thumping and head racing, the drugs and drink already quelling his system into heightened senses. His head was swimming with fuzzed thoughts, enjoying the smoke from joints and cigarettes wafting through the air. The environment made him feel just at home, the whole place reeking of drugs, alcohol, and sex.

Jeff lost himself in the nightlife, gladly smoking and doing lines with complete strangers. Pounding shots and making out with people he didn’t know was his favorite past time at this point. He loved dancing and being mistaken for a woman in his seductive movements.

He had enough dancing, at least for now. He was thirsty again, the cotton mouth setting in from the joints he had shared with strangers. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his own mouth despite swapping spit with a man for a good twenty minutes. The bar top had cleared out, more seats being available thanks to almost everyone crowding around the stage and spectating the small mosh pit that had formed.

Sliding into the seat at the counter, he waited patiently to be served. He sighed softly in relief at the relief his feet got as soon as they left the floor. He felt like he was dancing his life away out there but now he got a chance to relax. He scanned the bar, not paying much mind to the other patrons sitting in the row beside him.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked with clasped hands. “Just a water. I got cotton mouth like a motherfucker, man.” Jeff laughed softly with embarrassment. “Yeah totally, no problem.” The other man nodded and quickly made up a glass of ice water.

The glass clinked against the counter and Jeff quickly picked it up, dropping a straw into it before taking a nice long sip. His thirst was quenched by the nice cold liquid. It was a delightful feeling.

He felt a presence take the seat beside him, disregarding the new person as he continued to sip off his water. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his free hand with a small sigh. He needed a minute to cool down before he went out to rip another line and dance the night away.

After taking a nice long minute to catch his breath and chugging down some water, he slid the empty glass closer to the bartender’s reach before spinning around and leaving his seat. He slithered through the crowd and to the bathroom, pushing in past two men who were openly dry humping against the wall. Upon further glance, it wasn’t as dry as he thought.

The bathroom was not clean by any means. The stench of urine and must clung to the air and made it feel heavy and sticky to step into. The smell of pot and tobacco smoke filled the room, almost nauseatingly. The walls were littered with sharpied graffiti and stickers, names in hearts scattered around the room. There were small damp spots on the floor, either piss or leaking water but Jeff didn’t want to find out.

He rushed into a stall and unzipped his pants to take a well deserved piss. He groaned in relief as his bladder flushed itself. After he was done, he tucked himself away and zipped his pants back up. He fixed his lacy little panties he wore, making them peek up over the edge of his pants to help entices potential hookups.

He leaned over the back of the toilet, fishing the baggie from his pocket. He cut up more lines, this time snorting all of the contents in the bag— which was much more than he had consumed before he left the house. He didn’t leave a single grain behind, greedily inhaling all of it. He made a happy sounding growl as he finished inhaling. He cleaned himself up, making sure there wasn’t any left over “snow” on his nose or lip. He walked out and washed his hands before managing to squeeze back through the crowd.

He returned to his seat and was immediately met with another full glass of water and ice from the bartender. He mumbled a small thank you before the man zoomed off to help another patron. He pulled an ashtray close and lit up a cigarette, tucking it tightly between his lips as he flipped open his phone. He looked through his messages and missed calls, the ones he had been neglecting for days— and still would disregard answering.

“Not a shock seeing you here.” A sharp voice came from beside him. His heart dropped in despair, all color flushing from his face. “Look like you saw a ghost, Hardy.” The person remarked with a small sinister snicker.

Jeff slowly turned his head to face the voice, his stomach immediately doing flips and revolting against him. That sharp jaw and long shaggy blond and black hair. Those brown eyes staring back at him. He felt like fainting as he realized exactly who it was that had been sitting beside him this entire time. Absorbed in his own world and lowly problems, his once-upon-a-time friend.

The hypocrisy blindsided him. CM Punk had been so uptight about his “straight edge” lifestyle that Jeff had forgotten what it was like to seen him in a place like this. It felt like a fuzzy memory to see him sitting at a bar beside Jeff, just like they had so long ago. Was he hallucinating? Was his coke cut with some other kind of hallucinogen?

“Punk… Holy shit. What are you?—“ Jeff attempted to speak. “Same reason you are. Want a break from my depressing reality, forget about myself for a night. Chasing the pleasure— the high, Y’know?” Punk cut him off, staring into the glass of brown liquid in his hands. There was a bitter look twisting his face into one of distress.

Punk was disappointed in himself, turning to the bottle like he had fought not to for so long. He wasn’t surprised to see Jeff here, which made his disappointment grow even more with himself. Life had been treating him horribly and pushed him to the edge, shoving him harshly into relapse. The bottom of the bottle became a familiar friend. Finally, the guy just had enough of being sad and alone at home— instead, deciding to be sad and alone in public.

“Yeah.. I know.” Jeff painfully acknowledges with a slow nod before taking a drink of water, leaving the stillness between them. “Can I buy you a drink?” Punk asked softly. There was a moment of consideration before Hardy would finally reply. “You don’t have to, Punk…” he shook his head slowly.

The man’s brown eyes shot up from his glass, connecting with Jeff’s. “Hey man, we’re not at work… Just call me Phil. And I insist, consider it a peace offering.” He said lightly with a small awkward chuckle. “Phil… Okay, Phil.” Jeff said, trying to get used to the feeling of it rolling off his tongue, it felt like he was learning a completely new word he had never heard before.

Despite feeling uneasy still, Jeff accepted the drinks and shots Phil was buying him. Every single one went down the hatch. The pair fell into deep conversation, talking about their own struggles and what happened since they separated ways. Aside from occasionally seeing each other in passing, they could barely remember each other’s existence. They couldn’t remember the last time they could have a civil conversation like this.

The last time they ever talked was in a huge blowup fight. Jeff was struggling with getting clean and Punk was successful thus far. But every time Phil saw those blown out pupils and smelled the alcohol on Jeff’s breath, it made him crave that one last hit again and again. He couldn’t stand seeing his friend high when he was supposed to be resisting the same temptations. He didn’t want things to end that way, to lose a good friend. But he needed to cut things off, to get away from the vices Jeff was in the clutches of.

Phil’s words were slow and concise— albeit slurred. Jeff felt horrible for pulling Punk down with him, he deserved better than what Jeff could offer at the time. Jeff knew he himself still wasn’t in the best position, in-fact he felt worse than he did at that time. It was painful for him to come to this stunning revelation.

“Shit man… I’m sorry. Look, I don’t even remember that fight. I was probably still super fucked up…” Jeff slurred out apologetically. “Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. We’re both fucked up right now.” Punk remarked, taking Jeff’s still-burning half smoked cig from the ashtray in front of him.

There was a moment of silence between them, the thumping music in the background filling the empty words. Jeff watched Phil’s gaze shift from his glass to the stick between his fingers. His eyes were filled with longing, like he was looking at a long lost lover.

He raised it to his lips and closed his eyes, taking a long inhale. His eyes burned with guilt, like a devout catholic indulging in sin. His eyes remained averted away from Jeff’s face, shame seeping in through all of his cracks and flaws. The intense sensation from the menthol filled his mouth and pricked at his tongue. He kept the cigarette between his fingers as he picked up his glass, allowing the burning liquid to flow down his throat.

Jeff kept staring at his own glass, losing himself in the magnified wood grain below his cup. In between traces of the spirals of wood, he would sneak small peeks at Phil’s face. The glance made his eyes soften and heart ache. He never stopped caring for Punk, even if it hurt to think about him.

But now they were sad and alone together, a beautiful combination.

Jeff wasn’t sure when he had gotten into this predicament— although with his altered state, he didn’t mind much. He was perched in Punk’s lap, hands cupping the man’s face so gently as he analyzed every micro expression and every tiny twitch.

Punk was busy gazing into the green eyes he hadn’t seen in forever, his fingers twitching and grasping at the warm flesh sitting in his lap. He spent too long looking at the glossy cracked lips of the other man above him, one of his hands snaking up to rest on the back of his head.

The hunger inside of him snapped, colliding with Jeff in a mess of lips and teeth. Each kiss was met with equal passion and rough grabbing. A cycle began of sloppy kissing and heaving breaths, the silence between them being filled by the music and chatter of other patrons. The aching sensation grew stronger inside of Punk, a feral hunger for the other man.

“I’m so sorry I let you down, Phil…” Jeff mumbled, almost tearfully. His words were slurred and broken, his adams apple bobbing with each syllable. Maybe it was the alcohol and his near blackout state talking but, Punk felt his heart slowly breaking for the pain he had put Jeff through. “Shh… Don’t apologize baby, we both fucked up. But let’s forget about that now.” His voice wavering before he would pull Jeff into another passionate kiss.

Another shot and more coercion fed Jeff everything he could ever want, somehow leading to his current position. Punk hurriedly pulled him into the bathroom, rushing past people to get to the handicapped stall. Jeff stumbled as he was pulled along by Phil, passing by someone doing a line off the top of a urinal and another couple having a minor lovers spat.

Phil wasted no time yanking Hardy into the stall, locking the door behind them. Roughly gripping his shirt and shoving him against the wall, Punk pulled the other man into a kiss. Jeff grunted softly as his back hit the cold brick wall before his mouth was captured. All he could do was whimper into the kiss, a soft sound coming from him before being swallowed greedily by the more dominant man.

Jeff felt helpless although he wouldn’t protest under the rough touching and grabbing by the other man, he missed being roughhoused with. There was no denying that being handled like this was a major turn on for Jeff. The longer Punk’s fingers lingered close to his throat, the more he could feel his own dick leaking inside his pants.

Each rough kiss was met with hips carving into each other, the need and begging for more friction. Soft little ah-ah-ahs fell from Jeff’s lips at each little hump into his pelvis. One of his hands rested on Phil’s shoulder and the other tugged at his waistband in a wordless plea. Punk gripped his hair harshly, pulling his head back against the wall.

“Not yet. I wanna have my fun with you.” Phil muttered with a smirk, teeth biting playfully at his lip ring. Jeff felt his stomach sink and cock strain against the lace and zipper holding him back. “You always have been so fucking needy.” He grimaced, almost in disgust before a smile quickly appeared back on his face. Phil’s lips trailed down the other man’s trembling skin, biting and sucking eagerly at the pale flesh. He was fueled by the whines and quiet pleas from the skimpy dressed man in his hands.

Jeff felt his hands sliding under his shirt, shakily sucking in a sharp breath. He was willingly submitting, offering himself for use to the man he had wronged so long ago— treating his body like an apology. His brain felt fuzzed out, like mush at the sound of Phil’s voice. The drugs, the alcohol, the regret fueled his decision but he was unsure if this decision was truly his own. He could barely stand by himself and had to be aided by the other man. His words were so slurred that they were barely coherent. A single sober thought floated in his head; how was he going to get home?

Jeff was shoved to his knees, hair still being tightly gripped at the roots. He grunted at the sudden impact to his legs, forced to kneel before Phil. His glassy green eyes looked up at the other man with need, doing his best to ignore the damp feeling bleeding across his knees. He wasn’t sure if it was urine or water, nor did he want to know.

“Always dress so fuckin’ slutty. Might as well use you like one.” Punk muttered sinisterly. “I’ve waited forever to have you like this.” He grinned as he looked down upon the others face. Jeff was unsure what kind of switch flipped in Phil’s head but he definitely wasn’t opposed to this type of behavior. This was the whole point of going out tonight, being used and forgetting about his problems— just to feel good and forget about the world. “ ‘m sorry man I don’t—“ Jeff whined eagerly before being cut off, a thumb pinning down his tongue. “Shhh…. Just be good for me, okay?” Phil asked with a small smile, tapping his cheek lightly which earned a quick nod from Jeff.

Punk slowly removed his finger from the others mouth, tracing over his pouty lips with a smirk tugging at his own cheeks. “That’s it. Just like a good girl.” He murmured with a devilish grin as he watched the glazed look cover The Enigma’s eyes.

Jeff’s eyes widened in shock for a moment. Although it was never much of a secret he liked dressing and looking more feminine, no one has ever had so much nerve to call him one. He could feel himself throbbing and straining against his pants even more, making him squirm and whine. He whined softly as Phil pressed his shoe just below his aching cock to give him a small bit of mercy.

Phil undid his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling his red leaking dick out. Hardy felt his face flood with heat as he was met with the sight, moving back to take in the full view. The shine of silver caught his eye, jaw dropping in shock as he examined the member before him. Somehow, he never pegged Phil to be the kind of guy to get piercings like that.

“Come on, be a good girl and take it.” He muttered, pulling Jeff’s open mouth to cover his dick. He groaned in satisfaction as the wetness covered his head and shaft. His hips made shallow thrusts as Jeff eagerly bobbed his head, already gagging and whining but pushing through the pain already forming.

“Are you gagging? Please. I know you’ve sucked enough dick before, you should be a pro at this.” He said sharply, almost with condescension as he yanked the other man’s head forward in a rough form of encouragement which was met with eager compliance. Jeff felt no better than a hormonal teenager, craving more more more. His movements were almost like muscle memory at this point, body swaying rhythmically as he happily sucked away.

Phil could barely contain himself, groaning deeply at certain moments. He felt his core burning with tension, hips rocking towards Jeff’s face more urgently. He loved the feeling of how his throat constricted and tightened around his cock. His hands shakily gripped both sides of Jeff’s head by the hair and pulled him forward, firmly keeping him in place.

Jeff gagged and choked, squirming and trying to pull away but the vice grip on his hair had him stuck in place. He desperately tapped at Punk’s thigh, wide teary eyes looking up at him to beg for mercy.

Phil let out a scoff of disapproval, begrudgingly releasing his grasp on Jeff’s hair. A devilish look of satisfaction crept to his face as he watched the man kneeled before him, coughing and gasping for air as slobber dribbled from his chin.

“Come on baby, you were doing so well.” Punk cooed, tilting Jeff’s chin up to look him in the face. Jeff felt disappointed in himself for a brief moment. He knew he could do it, he knew he could take it. “Stand up. Lemme take care of you.” Phil said, pulling him to his feet.

Jeff felt heavy and uneasy on his feet but thanks to the help from the other man, he quickly found his footing. But just as he did so, he was pushed back into the wall behind him and captured in another rough kiss. Punk wasted no time at all unbuttoning and unzipping the pants of the rainbow haired man. He pulled back for air and a better view of the mess Jeff was already making.

Pulling away the denim, he paused with wide eyes. Jeff’s poor cock was straining and leaking against the pretty lace panties he decided to wear. Phil felt himself twitch and throb at the beautiful sight, getting so hard he almost gave himself a nosebleed. “Fuck look at you. You almost came in your pants.” Punk tisked and chuckled in disbelief.

“God ‘m sorry I—“ Jeff tried to speak before being cut off and roughly grabbed by the face. “I don’t remember telling you to speak.” The brunette’s brows furrowed in subtle disappointment, making him swallow hard and give an apologetic look.

Punk pulled away the damp sticky fabric, letting Jeff’s dick spring free from its restraint. Jeff let out a small sound of relief before softly gasping as the other man began to stroke him. He whimpered and wined, squirming and writhing against the calloused hand. He was even more shocked as Phil wrapped both of their members in his hand.

Jeff’s heart leapt to his throat, feeling the aching and throbbing he caused Phil. He whined softly as more precum beaded up at the top of his head, already very sensitive and begging for release. His stroke were slow and methodical. Purposely giving just enough stimulation to keep him on edge but not enough to spill over.

“You’re so sensitive. You keep moaning like a little whore.” Phil goaded, grip tightening and strokes gaining pace. He loved the sounds Jeff made for him and only him, doing anything he could to keep him going. Soon Punk didn’t care about how Jeff felt, beginning to chase his own high.

Jeff groaned and strained against the other’s hand, a breathy moan escaping as he shot sticky strands over the stimulating digits. Phil didn’t seen to mind the release, in-fact it only motivated him more— hand moving quicker as his impending release only got closer.

Punk’s jaw tightened and hips rocked forward as he shot hot cum all over his own hand and Jeff’s dick, letting out a low gravely moan. “Oh fuck, yeah…” he muttered under his heavy breaths. Jeff was somehow already hard at the sight, balls heavy and aching for more action. “You really are a slut, huh? You want more? I can give you more.” He said with narrow eyes, the questions more like factual statements.

Before Jeff could even think, he found himself with his palms pressed against the wall and feet spread. Punk didn’t give any warning or preparation, instantly pushing his full pierced length inside of him. Jeff let out a guttural moan at the sudden stretching inside of him, feeling each of the small metal balls rubbing against the sides of his rectum. Tears is shock brimmed in his eyes, the pain burning but he knew he had no choice to refuse. He didn’t want to. Jeff himself knew he didn’t want to ruin this opportunity.

“Your cunt is so tight and warm.” Punk muttered approvingly with a twisted smile. Jeff’s leaking cock hung heavy between his legs, twitching and throbbing in desperation. He liked being used likes girl, being treated and called one. Maybe Punk knew that this whole time? Or maybe he was just figuring it out?

Phil’s hands grabbed and kneaded at the supple ass in front of him, enjoying this entertaining view. He shifted his grasp to hold Jeff’s perfect waist, it was like he was meant to fuck Jeff’s pussy like this. The whines and soft whorish moans that came from Jeff only egged him on to keep going, piercings roughly brushing the poor man’s prostate.

Each rough thrust into him drove more tears from Jeff which only pushed Punk to keep going and fuck him harder. Jeff cried out, lost in pain and pleasure. His mind felt hazy and distant as he allowed himself to be used as Phil felt fit. Jeff couldnt think at all, cumming twice as he was fucked out before feeling a third release building up in his gut.

“I ca— I can’t Phil. I can’t cum again.” He said with a breaking voice through tears, legs shaking and threatening to collapse beneath him. “Yes you can. You can do it.” Punk cooed, gently wiping hair and sweat from the other man’s face— a contrasting gentleness from his ruthless use of Jeff’s pussy.

Punk’s harsh pumping turned from rhythmic to sporadic, hips sputtering desperately as he felt himself nearing the edge of release. “Fuck baby, your tight little pussy is gonna make me cum.” He groaned, head leaning back. He kept pumping inside of the other man, enjoying all the pretty sounds he was making for him.

Hardy couldn’t think clearly, brain melted by the sensations and exhausted from cumming so much in such a small amount of time. Phil slammed roughly into him, biting at Jeff’s neck like a wild animal. He pushed himself balls deep into the rainbow haired man, completely emptying himself inside of him. He let out a loud guttural groan as he shot hot ropes of cum, rocking his hips up into Jeff’s. The submissive man let out a squeaky moan, eyes wide with tears.

Hardy’s eyes fluttered open in the shining sun, groaning and turning away from the blinding light. He rubbed his face into the carpet, finding comfort in the sensation. He felt exhausted. Dehydration, hangover, and pain all creeping in at the same time. He felt his stomach churning, jaw going numb and drool producing more than usual. He instantly sobered up and panicked, stumbling and running to the bathroom.

He barely made it, kneeling before the toilet and letting himself vomit. He wretched so hard that he strained his back, tears burning in his eyes as he continued to throw up. He felt so sore and in pain, not even remembering how he got to be like this.

He coughed and spit into the toilet before gagging and throwing up again. The pain from tensing muscles shot up his spine and down his legs. He felt absolutely worn out. He could probably pass out on the tile floor and sleep the rest of the day.

When he caught a break from vomiting, he curled up on the cold floor beside the toilet and closed his eyes. He could feel himself trembling and shaking almost violently. He was drained and exhausted, entire lower half of his body feeling like he had gotten ripped apart.

After a while of laying there and throwing up, rinsing and repeating the process, he managed to muster up the strength to sit himself on the edge of the tub. His hands worked slowly to peel off his clothes, being disgusted in himself at the smell of how bad it was. He took down his hair and sat there in defeat, doing his absolute best to remember what really happened last night.

No matter how much he strained and did his best to recount prior events, nothing came to mind. The last thing he could remember was leaving his house. He knew he went to the bar because that’s the place he planned on going to, plus his clothes reeked of liquor. In frustration he hit his head and pulled his hair, a small hope that this could rattle a memory loose from the night prior.

Somehow finding the strength to hold himself up, he took a scalding hot shower to wash away the filth clinging to his skin and hair. He pushed through the searing pain shooting through his limbs and spine. The hot water dulled the pain but still not enough to make it manageable for him.

After the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and hair. Taking a moment to stare in the mirror at the purple markings he managed to gain over night. He had to take a long minute to admire them and the teeth imprints still clinging to his skin.

He rummaged through his medicine cabinet, finding something to take for his pounding head and upset stomach before walking out of the bathroom. His feet slowly padded across the carpet, slowly approaching the box he left on his bedside table. He grabbed out a few pills and popped them into his mouth, swallowing them with a small sip of water from a bottle of water. He felt absolutely trashed, like his stomach was ripped out through his ass.

He dried himself off and threw on some sleep pants and a random shirt, laying back on the bed with a soft sigh. His body settled into the mattress, allowing him to relax for a bit. At some point, he managed to drift comfortably back to sleep for a while.

Hardy was awoken by the distant sound of his phone ringing. He still felt like shit but at least he didn’t feel like roadkill now. He pushed himself to sit up, looking around the room quizzically. He didn’t even know where it was at but it sounded far away.

“Where the fuck did I put it?” He muttered to himself, brows furrowing as he pushed himself out of bed. He stumbled to his feet and paced the apartment as he searched for the ringing.

He looked in the bathroom, the kitchen, under the coffee table until finally— he would find it somehow wedged between the couch cushions. By the time he picked it up, it had stopped ringing. “Fuck.” He said sharply as the ringing had stopped. Jeff paused. He wasn’t expecting any calls. So who was the culprit that called him?

He flipped his phone open and saw the little message pop on screen.

1 missed call, 1 new message.

His stomach twisted again as he looked at the number he had missed the call from. It was familiar yet unsaved in his contacts. Confusion irked him, he knew that number but he didn’t know where from. He opened the messages and read the most recent one, from the same number that had called.

We need to talk. Come over please, Jeff. I can help fill you in on last night but we need to have a serious conversation.

Jeff reread that message at least ten times, confused and worried. Beneath that appeared another message with an address that was painfully familiar.

His stomach sunk as he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. He couldn’t help but stare up at the imposing walls that towered over him. He felt so small just standing there on the side walk like an idiot. He kept checking back at the address on his phone to make sure he got it right, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

He walked up the flights of stairs and through the halls until he could his way to the door with the listed number on it. He could make this journey in his sleep. The nausea crept back in as he raised his fist to knock. By the second rap against the wood, the door slowly swung open.

There before him stood Phil. He looked exhausted and disheveled, hair damp like he had just taken a shower. His brown eyes avoided connecting with Jeff’s silhouette, some kind of regret filling them.

“Punk I—“ He was cut off by the brunette holding up a hand as if to say that no words were needed. After Jeff stepped inside, the door clicked closed and Punk turned to look at him. “I told you last night… While we’re outside of work, call me Phil.” He said calmly, despite his flushed cheeks.

“Phil, I don’t remember anything from last night.” Hardy admitted with a confused look, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was coked out of my mind and probably drunker than a skunk.” He added, his face slowly turning red with embarrassment. “And if I’m honest, I don’t remember how I even got home.”

There was a pause between the two of them. “I know. I was the one that drove you home.” Phil finally replied to break the silence. “I drove you home in your car, helped you get in the door and locked it behind me. In hindsight i know I should have kept an eye on you but I didn’t want you to freak out when you woke up to my ugly mug.” He confessed, a look of conflicted feelings brewing on his face.

“Oh… Well thank you Phil.” Jeff slowly nodded, unsure of what to make of it. “Thank you but… can I ask what you were doing at the bar?” He questioned timidly, not wanting to upset him. “Same reason you were. To forget about my sad reality.” Punk shrugged it off with a slight frown.

Hardy took a moment to scan his surroundings, face falling slightly as he noticed the place littered with beer cans and liquor bottles. Ashtrays with cigarette butts smashed into them were also here and there. The whole place really looked depressing, lonely even.

“I thought you were…” Jeff trailed off slowly., hoping to not upset him. Phil let out a soft scoff and rolled his eyes. “Sober? Yeah lately I’ve been hit with the shit stick so.. it was this or jumping off the balcony.” He sighed softly. Hardy slowly nodded with a saddened look in his eyes, he knew the feeling more than Punk understood. “So we both haven’t been having a good time, huh?” He tried joking lightly.

“Wanna sit down?” Phil offered, gesturing to the kitchen table where two glasses sat atop the clean wooden surface. It seemed like he was preparing this for a while, it was the only place that seemed intentionally clean. “Yeah sure.” Hardy nodded hesitantly, following him to sit at the table. He shifted into the seat, almost squirming in pain as he sat down. The discomfort was visible in his face.

Punk carefully poured drinks for both of them, face filled with indiscernible emotion but it was far from being blank. Jeff’s hair twisted harshly at the sight of alcohol but he slowly accepted it, his hesitation apparent as his fingers curled around the glass.

“We haven’t had a sit down like this in a while.” Jeff said with a nervous chuckle, eyes avoiding the brown ones that had been locked on him. “No.. But I think it’s nice.” Phil replied honestly, taking a long thoughtful drink from the cup in his grasp. He sniffed to avoid tearing up.

The two of them continued to drink and have small talk, it was slow and inviting. It was nice having time to go over things that happened in their lives while they gave each other the cold shoulder. They didn’t have to hurry or whisper their conversation this time.

“I wish things didn’t end the way they did.” Jeff said softly, looking up with droopy eyes and a small frown. “Me too… But maybe we can fix things? Maybe we can go back to what we used to be….” Phil replied, voice almost breaking his composure.

It felt like the whole world went still as Punk said those last five words. What we used to be. Jeff’s eyes snapped up to look the other man in the eyes. His heart clenched as he finally got to look past the hardened exterior and into the vulnerable side of the brunette.

“You mean it?…” Hardy asked in a shaky voice, brows raising and eyes turning glassy as he gave a scoff of disbelief. Phil’s face softened and he would give a nod of confirmation. “I think I would like to try.” He sighed shakily, swallowing the last bit of pride.

There was a moment of silence between them, the soft hum of the fridge filling the gap between their words. “But on one condition.” Punk raised his finger, signaling a stipulation. “Yeah, anything.” The Enigma nodded eagerly with wide eyes, just wanting to fix things and make it right again. “What is it?” He asked softly.

Phil took a deep breath before finishing his condition. “We both need to get sober. Quit cold turkey, go to rehab, something. But we need to get sober.” He pleaded, gently taking one of the green eyed man’s hands in his own. Jeff’s stomach twisted harshly again at the seriousness in his voice. “Yeah… I can— We can do that.” He nodded quickly, wanting to get back to the way things were.

Once again Jeff found himself in a strange predicament, being gently pushed into the mattress and pinned below Phil. His eyes were wide in each sloppy little kiss and bite at his pale flesh.

“Phil are you sure you wanna do this, man?” He asked softly, voice shaking softly. Punk pulled away with an expression like that of if he tasted something bitter. “We fucked last night. I’m very sure about this.” He said flatly before immediately getting back to it. Jeff was completely shocked, somehow having never put the pieces together. He felt so stupid for not realizing it sooner.

A single bite to the right spot forced Hardy to give into the sensations being given to him. He sucked in a sharp breath as Punk’s cold fingers slithered under his shirt, wrapping around his sides and slightly exposing his midriff to the chilled air. Phil’s hands swiftly helped Jeff remove the pesky fabric in the way before his lips returned to attacking the man’s pale flesh.

Jeff went along with it, wanting to give into the pleasure he used go remember so fondly. Their movements were unhurried and almost lazy, taking their time in savoring the feeling of each other.

The touching was lazy like two men who had done this day after day for years on end but could never get enough of each other. Jeff needed this, Punk needed this, they both did. The slow tender love of one another, not wanting to rush into things. Phil pressed softly featherlight kisses to Jeff’s neck and shoulders, savoring the taste of flesh on his lips.

Jeff pulled Phil to lay beside him on the bed, smiling softly with a faint glimmer in his eyes. He swore he could feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest as the kisses continued and slowly sunk lower.

“Hey, let’s take this slow.” Jeff said with a soft plea. Punk sighed softly and complied with his request, pressing a deep kiss to the other man’s lips.

Phil knew this didnt have to be rushed or hurried, they had all the time in the world. But something primal inside of him twisted. The urge to hump and breed was consuming him. He did his best to keep things slow and succeeded in doing so.

Jeff was covered in bites and hickeys all over the place, mainly his shoulders and neck being attacked. “It’s like you want people to know about us.” He muttered softly before kissing Punk again.

Something was different, a shift in Phil’s reaction. His lips went stiff— unmoving and limp like that of a corpse.

Of course, Jeff noticed this change in behavior— it was hard not to. He pulled away from the kiss and took a long look at the brown eyed man. It felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked as his brows knitted together. Phil’s face fell flat, eyes looking saddened. Instantly Jeff knew he fucked up. He fucked up bad.

Phil shifted and sat beside Hardy, crossing his legs to try to keep distance between them. He sighed deeply, eyes still avoiding looking anywhere near the rainbow haired man.

“What if I do want people to know about us?” Phil asked abruptly, catching Jeff off guard. “I mean, Jeff— we can’t keep hiding it. We were bad at hiding it. People have eyes, they can see the way we looked at each other.” He added, face shifting into a look of frustration.

Jeff knew Punk was right. When they were still friends before the falling out, it was hard not to acknowledge the way they would sneak glimpses at each other. They spent so much time together until the fight.

That single argument ruined them. It tore them apart. For what? Drugs, alcohol, and just plain addiction. They were both better than this, they both knew it. Phil wanted to fight for their relationship, he wanted things to work so badly.

“You’re right… Fuck it. Let them see us. I don’t care. I just don’t want to lose you again over something so stupid.” Jeff caved, face softening as he cupped Phil’s stiff cheek. “You’re worth fighting for.” He added, voice soft and raw with emotion.

Finally those brown eyes he had grown to love made contact with his, something striking him through the heart. With tearful eyes, Punk rushed Jeff into another kiss.

Teary eyes and soft cries between breaths filled the silence between them. The kisses grew more intense and sloppy, filled with passionate love instead of primal lust. Punk pressed hurried smooches to the lips of Hardy as they undressed each other, kicking their clothes aside on the bed.

Jeff straddled Phil, pressing sweet kisses to his face as his hands ran down the other man’s body. They were both consciously making the decision to do this, raw emotion fueling them. This wasn’t just a lust fueled fuck fest, this was years of yearning and missing this kind of intimacy. This wasn’t sexual, it was pure vulnerability.

The men began to get more handsy, giving into their primal need to satisfy each other. Grabbing and groping at each other, the situation getting more heated.

Phil continued to bite and nip at Jeff’s chest, groaning softly as The Enigma’s hips rocked into his. Both of them were already painfully hard, aching for each other. Their cocks rubbed together with each rock of their hips.

Jeff pushed down his “new found” surprise at the sight of the silver jewelry adorning Punk’s shaft, clearly it had been a while since they had done something like this. Jeff didn’t remember him having these last time they saw each other naked— washing up in the locker room after a long day.

Hardy’s digits carefully wrapped around their members, slowly stroking them together. “Yeah.. Just like that sweetheart.” Phil muttered softly, hands lightly gripping Jeff’s waist.

Punk let his head fall back into the pillows, eyes fluttering open and closed. He enjoyed the shaky and timid movements of the other man, carefully rocking his hips up like he would break Jeff if he even breathed wrong.

Soft noises fell from Hardy’s lips, cheeks red with embarrassment. He was so sore and sensitive but he needed this. He needed to feel this pleasure with Punk, together.

Phil took over, stroking them together slowly before spitting into his hand and continuing. Jeff’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the warm sticky saliva coating their dicks.

Shaky breaths racked through Jeff with each wave of gratification from the slow strokes. Punk watched the shuddered movements through Hardy’s muscles.

“You don’t have to be scared, princess. It’s okay. Just relax.” Phil cooed softly, a gentle free hand resting on Jeff’s warm face. “Okay, okay…” Hardy said through trembling breaths, overly sensitive under Punks touch.

Hardy’s brain felt warm and fuzzy at the nickname dawned on him. He couldn’t control the way his hips bucked or the way he whined, desperate for more.

Of course Phil sped up the pace, wanting to keep feeding off of those pretty moans like they were all the sustenance he could ever need. He couldn’t help but grin as the moans escaping Hardy turned more whorish and high pitched.

Jeff covered his mouth with a soft yelp as he came, much to his dismay. “That sensitive baby? Don’t worry. Our fun isn’t stopping here.” Phil goaded, licking the cum from the webbing of his fingers. He got a nice kick out of the man straddling him, watching his dick ache and throb. He was surprised Jeff was still hard. If he was being honest, it was difficult for him to get hard again right after finishing. Jeff was just raring to go apparently.

Jeff melted into the mattress, letting Punk lean over him and press kisses into his warm flesh. He shivered as the man’s warm tongue ran up the side of his neck, lapping over the bite that nearly drew blood and drove out a guttural moan.

Phil stroked himself, using the cum and his own spit to his advantage to keep things moving. He carefully spread Jeff’s legs, looking at his red sore hole he had abused the night prior. “I’ll be careful, okay baby?” He said softly, pressing a kiss to Jeff’s forehead.

Hardy slowly nodded, lashes fluttering at the kiss to his temple. He sighed and gave in, submitting control to the brunette man and letting his guard fall finally. It was almost scary for him but ultimately, he knew that Phil would never harm him— intentionally at least.

Phil rubbed his thumb lightly over the ring of muscle, watching as it flexed shyly. He slowly pressed his cock through the rings of muscles, being so careful with his pretty girl. He listened to the squeaky pathetic little noises that Jeff made, finally pressing to his hilt inside of him.

Jeff squirmed and whimpered softly, tears pricking at his eyes. He sucked in slow breaths as Punk groped at his chest, allowing the man to fondle him however he wanted.

“Yeah baby, good girl. Just breathe.” Phil cooed softly, kissing Hardy’s cheeks and crinkled corners of his eyes. He handled him so carefully, like a porcelain doll that could crumble in his hands.

Punk’s thrusts began painfully slow, still making sure to keep his girl comfortable. He stacked pillows around and under Jeff, continuously pressing kisses into the warm skin beneath him. He muttered soft praises as his hips began to slowly rock up into the other.

“C’mon baby, can you take dick like a good doll?” Punk goaded, giving Hardy’s neglected cock a few strokes. Jeff whined and squirmed, overwhelmed at the feeling. He could feel heat prickle through his skin as he nodded vigorously.

“Yes sir.” He continued to nod, all rational thinking fading from his mind. He was simply desperate to make him feel good, to share this joy with his best friend. A devilish smirk twisted at the corners of Phil’s mouth, satisfied at the new nickname.

He hooked one of Hardy’s legs over his shoulder, giving him more leverage in each thrust. He was still cautious in his movements, watching each small expression and eye movement from his pretty girl under him. The soft ah-ah-ahs that formed a wonderful chorus alongside the sound of skin rubbing together and the wet sounds that the stroke gave.

Phil was obsessed with the way Jeff’s back arched off the bed and sides rippled with heavy breaths. He couldn’t help but feel entertained at the way Jeff acted, like his own personal pornstar that he got to keep.

“Your cunt is just so greedy, isn’t it? Look at it swallowing me right up.” Punk remarked with a shit eating grin, yanking the colorful hair to look at the penetration happening.

Jeff of course didn’t mind the rough handling or the way Punk ogled at his body. It made him feel desired and wanted for once, in a world that did nothing but ridicule him for his mistakes.

Punk hurriedly kissed Hardy, his thrusts getting more rough and messy. Jeff couldnt help but let out weepy moans, tears rolling down his face to leave salty stains on his skin.

Seeing the trails down his cheeks only encouraged Phil to pick up the pace, harshly holding the submissive man’s hips in place as he fucked into him. Jeff wrapped a hand around his own dick, quickly stroking himself as he chased his high.

“Ohhh fuck baby. You’re gonna make me cum.” Phil groaned gladly at the feeling of Jeff’s greedy hole swallowing him repeatedly. The flex and clenching of the walls around his cock made it even more enjoyable, causing him to get more feral in an attempt to chase his own release.

Hardy knew he was at the brunette’s mercy, just in this for the ride and to enjoy himself. Punk moaned happily as he felt the tension in his core burning and building, getting closer to the edge.

As hard as he tried, The Enigma just couldn’t hold back. He moaned loudly as he released, shooting ropes of cum onto his own stomach as more tears escaped his ducts.

The pulsing of the tight cunt around him helped snap the tension in his gut. He plowed his full length inside of the other, enjoying the pitchy sound that escaped from his little plaything. He bit down on Jeff’s throat as he emptied himself inside, making sure he let out every last drop inside him.

Sweaty and panting, the two of them propped up against the headboard of the bed. Both of them had a cigarette in hand, snuggled tightly against each other.

“I missed being us.” Jeff remarked softly, wiping the sweat and tears from his face. Phil took a slow inhale from the stick in his fingers. “I did too.” He admitted with a small nod as he exhaled.

“I want to go back to being us.” Hardy said again in a near whisper. “Then let’s do it.” Punk nodded in agreement. “Let’s get clean and stay clean. For each other.” He added.

Jeff pulled the brown eyed man into another deep passionate kiss. He meant it, they both did. Getting sober together might be the easiest way to go about it.

“I’ll call around to rehab centers in the morning. For now, let’s get some rest.” Phil said in encouragement, still taking slow drags off his cigarette. Hardy nodded in obedience, melting into the arms of the other man as he finished off his stick.

Naked and stripped of all guard and walls that had built up, for once— they both felt seen. They weren’t their built up tough guy personas, they weren’t their addictions, they weren’t able to hide from each other.

They were human.

They needed each other even if they didn’t want to outright say it. With each other, they finally felt at ease.

Author’s Note;

HI OH MY GOD YOU MADE IT TO THE END!!! This is my first ever actual ship fic so this probably was horrible, Im not even going to lie. Going into this, I had so many ideas for smut but ultimately I focused more on the angst— or at least tried to.

I tried making this entire thing cohesive but I feel like I failed at it. I got burnt out half way through it but wanted to finish it for everyone that was looking forward to it.

HUGE thank you to @hardyfrotter for giving me so many ideas and feedback on my ideas and the portions I showed them!

Let me know what you think! Please I really wanna know your reactions to this fic since it’s my first ship fic!

And here is your reminder to join my taglist! Tysm for reading!!

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