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“1…2…3!”
The bell rang, and the crowd went berzerk. Jeff could barely hear any of it through his brain fog. Not bothering to stay for his house show post-match celebration over his biggest rival, CM Punk. He walked catatonically up the entrance ramp, ignoring the children reaching out for high fives. His head was spinning.
“Goddamn, his foot hit my bladder really hard.”, he thought.
He finally shuffled his way to the locker room, which consisted of two rows of lockers with a long wooden bench in between the rows, and an opening on the right to the showers. He should probably shower, now that he’s processed that he pissed himself.
The swanton bomb he finished the match with was perfect, except for the rough landing. He usually aims for the torso, but he misjudged the distance away from his target. Upon landing, his bladder lined up perfectly with Punk’s foot, which knocked the piss out of him. After hitting the move, he felt warmth spread over his parachute pants.
“I should’ve gone before the match! I was running late…”
He really hoped that no one had noticed.
“What’s your fucking problem? Are you on drugs again? You walked away looking like a fucking zombie!”, CM Punk scolded, entering the locker room with a bang. Jeff couldn’t look at him, frozen in place. If he turns around, Punk will run and tell everyone that he pissed himself.
“No, I’m not, it’s just-”
“Yeah, right. Anyway, they’re pissed at you, since you skipped your aftermatch celebration. They’re stalling for time now.”
Jeff peeped over his shoulder. He must’ve had “scared” written all over his face, because Punk instantly relaxed his shoulders, a slightly worried look on his face.
“Hey, are you okay? I was just kidding about the drugs thing…”, Punk said. He took a step closer. Jeff’s eyes widened.
“No!! No, stop, I’m fine! Don’t come closer!”, Jeff panicked, inching away.
“Seriously bro, what is your fucking pro-”, Punk paused. All the color drained from his face. The smell hit him. A sick smile creeped onto his face. He stepped towards Jeff. He took another step towards him.
“No, dude really, go away!”, Jeff blurted, stepping backward. Losing his balance, he falls onto the bench with a small squelching sound. Punk looked down at him, towering over him, the same perverted smile plastered on his face.
“Did you fucking piss yourself?”, Punk asked, almost laughing. Jeff felt his face get warm. This made Punk cackle, pleased with the successful embarrassment.
“I mean look at you! You’re soaked!”
“Alright, you laughed at me, can you leave me alone so I can go shower?”
The smile dropped from Punk’s face. He leaned towards Jeff, almost putting his mouth on his ear.
“Why would I do that?”
Jeff froze as Punk stood back up. He swallowed, hard and dry. He couldn’t even think, lightheaded and woozy. Almost like all the blood left his head and went…oh shit. The only thing he was able to focus on was his cock throb against the wetness of his pants. Punk seemed to catch on and take note of this, tugging on the waistband of Jeff’s pants.
“Do you need help getting out of your piss pants, hm?”, Punk asked, with the most condescending voice Jeff had ever heard.
“This…”, Jeff’s voice was shaky. “This is so embarrassing!”. Punk stepped back, dropping the smile and looking concerned.
“Hey, you could’ve told me to stop!”
“No! No, sorry, don’t stop!”, Jeff blurted. Punk’s eyebrows shot up.
“Ohh! Oh, you like being embarrassed! You’re one of those!”
With that in mind, Punk sat next to Jeff. He looked down at the wet spot on his rival’s crotch, barely spotting the erection through the soaked baggy pants. Jeff was looking down at his feet, face as red as his hair color of the week.
“Jeff?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re hard.”
“Yeah…yeah, I know. Thanks for letting me know.”
Punk let out a curt laugh.
“So, this has been fun, but I guess I’ll let you take your shower now.”
“Oh. I thought. I thought this was leading to something.”, Jeff said, his voice feebly trailing off at the end of his sentence. Punk’s eyebrows shot up again, trying and failing to be subtle about his surprise. To cover his excitement, he furrowed his brow, tapping his index finger on his chin, pretending to be mulling it over. He was trying his best to not seem desperate about fucking Jeff Hardy while he was covered in piss.
“Yeah, okay, we can do somethi-”
He was interrupted by Jeff grabbing him by the shirt, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Their tongues slipped into each other’s mouths. Passionate, desperate. Like they’ve both been waiting for the other to make the first move. They finally pulled away from each other. Clinging onto each other, panting.
“Are you still down with this?”, Punk asked. Jeff nodded, barely able to think. His head was spinning, his heart was racing.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, I still want it.”
“You want what?”
Jeff gulped.
“I want you to fuck me in my piss.”
That’s all Punk needed to hear. He stood up from the bench.
“Bend over the bench, it’s the best way to do this.”
Jeff obeyed. He turned his head to face the door, hoping to God that no one would walk in to see him covered in his own pee, getting fucked by his biggest rival. He gasped as Punk yanked down his pants, the cold hitting his wet ass. Punk cackled.
“Do you always wear lacey women’s underwear?”
“I forgot I had those on.”
Punk pulled the panties off of Jeff, balling them up in his fist. Black, lacey, soaked. He put them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. He sighed pleasurably.
“Alright, one second.” Punk walked towards one of the lockers on the right side of the room. He fumbled with the lock. Once he unlocked it, he opened it with a slam. He quickly stuffed the panties into his locker, hoping Jeff wouldn’t mind.
At least this gave Jeff some time to think. This is not what he expected to do for his postmatch winddown. He was just expecting to shower and wait for Matt to finish his match. He was his ride after all.
The locker closed with another bang. Jeff looked away from the door, glancing over at the locker. Punk was now holding lube and a condom.
“You just had that in your locker?”, Jeff asked with a snicker.
“You have no space to judge me right now.”
Jeff shrugged and looked back at the door. He sensed that Punk was behind him again. He heard him open the lube with a pop, put some on his finger, and-
“FUck, that’s cold!”
Punk pulled his trunks down, his dick springing out. He rolled the condom on and took hold of Jeff’s hips.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Punk positioned himself in front of Jeff’s entrance and slowly made his way into him. Jeff hissed, which made Punk pause.
“Use your words. Do you need me to stop?”
“No, ugh, I’m fine, keep going.”
This set Punk free. He had absolutely no rhythm but his enthusiasm made up for it.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
Jeff didn’t respond, covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his eyes closed. He tried to stay quiet, knowing that anyone who walked past might hear what was going on. Matt’s match would be over soon. He took his hand off his mouth.
“Oh fuck, keep going, Phil!”, he groaned. Punk put a foot up on the bench for more leverage. He continues, still rhythmless but much faster.
“You close? You close?”
Jeff nodded, covering his mouth again, once again keeping a close eye on the door. A few more fast thrusts and Jeff could feel Punk cum inside him. Jeff cried out as he joined Punk in coming, finishing on the floor underneath the bench. They were both panting. Punk carefully pulled out, trying not to break the full condom.
Knock knock knock.
“Hey Jeff, you still in there? Hurry up, I need to shower too!”, Matt called from the other side of the door. “Why the fuck is the locker room door locked anyway?” Jeff and Punk share a terrified glance.
“Yeah, uh, I’m almost done, Matt! I’ll be out soon!”
Jeff got up off the bench, barely able to stand. He was shaking, partly because of his nerves, partly because of getting his back blown out.
Punk took out a towel, got to his knees, and cleaned the mess Jeff left behind.
“Hurry UP!”, Matt yelled behind the door.
“Shut the fuck up, give him a second!”, Punk yelled back. He gasped, covering his mouth, realizing his mistake.
“What are you doing in there?”. Jeff peaked out of the showers, glaring at Punk.
“Why would you say anything?”
“Well, he would’ve seen me leave!”
Matt smashed his shoulder into the door, stumbling in after breaking the handle on the door.
“Oh my GOD! Put your fucking dick away!”, Matt shouted. “My brother’s in the shower and your cock’s out, that’s fucking weird!”
“Matt…”, Jeff whined.
“Are you stupid? That’s what you think is happening? Your brother pissed himself and I fucked him, are you gonna cry about it?”
Matt stood there, speechless. When he eventually found his voice, he turned to Jeff.
“Find your own ride, you queer. Since you’re not allowed to drive yourself anywhere. God!”, Matt said. He stomped off, mumbling under his breath. Jeff sighed.
“You should probably shower too.”, he went back to his own shower. “Can you drive me to the hotel by the way?”
“Sure. Hey, Jeff, I’ve been thinking.”
“Okay? What about?”, Jeff asked.
“Next time you dye your hair, you should dye it yellow.”
“Why yellow?”
“I think you look nice in yellow.”