SLASH M17 - contains thematic elements, 18+ swearing, tacky over-comedic-over written Humor, & Sex. Pro-Smut

Exposé: - ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE. RAW, Jeff's tired, hurt & hungry; Umaga's making a fool of himself for the Enigma's short attention span. Scheme Master Punk has a plan, a price & some gonzo advice…

Pairing: {JeffHardy/Umaga}

-For slashdlite-

REQUEST-FIC

CM 101: How to Score a Hardy Boy

RAW February 2007.

Jeff stumbled through the locker room areas with a shred of his dignity intact as his theme ended, then pushing through a gray door, and flopping on the floor, boneless from the fight with Umaga. Brushing a hand through his hair, Shannon skittered in and rushed about packing both their belongings. The 'enigma' looked on without interest until the V1 follower yanked him up from the floor, he gasped in the sudden rush of his muscle crinkled bruises, "Ow, Shan. Lemme be a minute…"

"No time-! Gotta leave-! Hurry up-!" Shannon gasped in short breaths as if he ran through the whole arena looking for the 'enigma', he quickly threw on a hooded sweater over his jeans and shirt before bustling under Jeff's observation.

"But I'm hurt," whined the younger Hardy unenthusiastically while the smaller North Carolinian began ripping their belongings out from the lockers and into their duffle bags.

"What's new?" he unaffectedly asked, still stuffing the bags.

"Make me feel better: 'I won', 'Let's celebrate', 'go crazy, the candy's on me?', 'Let's egg Matt's hotel room?' Does any of that ring a bell?" Jeff mumbled disappointedly, he groped around the floor for a chair and propped himself on it with an 'ouch!', the blonde tore the Hardy's dirty clothes away from the other and threw it also into their clothes' pile.

"I'm serious, Jeff!" Shannon slapped his hands on the younger Hardy who winced and shouted in pain, "We gotta go before he finds you!"

"Whose gonna mess the future Intercontinental Champ this night of all nights?" Jeff grumbled while rubbing down the sore spots and kicking Moore's duffle bag.

"Obviously a future sore loser!" Shannon barked when he recollected his articles and threw them back into the duffle, "He's pissed you Almost won, again."

"The dozer?" the 'enigma' asked.

"No shit, Sherlock," sarcasm thickly seethed after the V1 follower zipped both their bags shut.

"I get the sore loser part, but why now? I feel like a bag of cement," Jeff fell back before whining as Shannon began yanking at the taller male, "Shan, I don't wanna move."

"Fine! Fine!" Matt's tag team partner screamed, he quickly tied up his hair and knelt to one of the bags on the floor.

"What're you doing?" Jeff asked, half past caring what his hometown friend was doing.

"I'm gonna make Bourne strut his stuff past McMahon's office, then you can get about five hours of rest when that old fart takes the bait," Shannon self congratulated himself as he pulled out a grayish plum chiffon dress from a boutique gift wrap. The dripping light sheath gave way to a plunging neckline, a black silk sash on the waist and rich folds around the thigh high cut, "I call it the gift that keeps on givin'."

"Evan can't be bait, that's a Dress for chrissakes!" the 'enigma' squeaked out his horror to the posh dress in the other blonde's hands.

"Everyone loves Evan in a dress," the slighter blonde took one end of the skirt end and experimentally whipped it around, he passed the hem by his nose and cackled, " 'Specially this skimpy number…it's new and already smells like sex."

The younger Hardy's jaw fell as he yelled, "Shan, it's a Dress!"

Shannon gave another whirl in the dress as he laughed near mechanically, "McMahon'll never resist! Heck! McMahon'll throw in a deep tissue massage for the both of us. The Moore Has Prophesized! "

"Shan, you're pimpin' out Our best friend!" Jeff swallowed hard at the thought of Evan twirling in that article of clothing.

The blonde dropped his shoulders and slung the sheath over his shoulder, scolding the younger Hardy, "You wanna be the dumb hoe, that's fine with me, the least you can do is be grateful if I try to help you."

"I'm no dumb hoe!" the 'enigma' pouted, a knock snapped them from each other.

"Hey, Moore-on, is the dress ready?" Evan popped his head in through the slightly opened door, then playfully squealed as Shannon threw him the couture.

"I'm hungry," Jeff complained, he yawned with a mumble, "I'm Sleepy."

"I'll never understand you, Jeff," the smaller blonde turned from the pair as the younger Hardy yanked at the dress hem, "Matt might be a dick but his pangs are easy to predict, you, you're like a blind-folded drunk driving backwards on a free-way."

"Am not! Am not!" the taller blonde shouted.

"Are, too! Are, too!" Shannon screamed, bouncing on his heels at every syllable.

"Stoppit!" Evan stepped in and slapped the eM-Effer upside the head, he turned to the 'enigma', "Aren't you hurt?"

"Oh, I'm fi-OW!" Jeff recoiled as pain struck him in his midsection and legs.

"Shoot, how're we gonna do this if I can't lift you an inch," the small brunette gasped after a futile attempt to pull Jeff off the chair.

"This is the easy part- Open," Shannon instructed, the taller male opened his mouth, the smaller put a pill on his tongue, "Swallow."

"Good," Evan said, but quickly raised an eyebrow when Jeff suddenly fell back with the chair atop the duffle bags, "Shannon, we'll have to carry him."

"What?" the 'enigma' asked, half in woo woo and other still swimming in the lockers.

"We'll have to carry you," the younger male informed once more.

"What?" Shannon disbelievingly lock jawed, Evan shrugged his shoulders once and pointed to a carpet, "Get in the carpet!"

"What?" Jeff squeaked as arms went under his legs, he kicked at his friend's hold.

"Get. In. The. Carpet. Now, Jeff!" Shannon grasped at the kicking legs and chased after the younger Hardy, who back pedaled away.

"No!" he shouted after landing a boot on the smaller blonde's face.

"Don't take that tone of voice with Me, young man!" the smaller North Carolinian pounced Jeff.

"I ain't goin', no way, no how!" the 'enigma' quickly squirmed out from under Shannon and backed into a corner, breath heaving, body aching and the effects of the codeine buzzing the next words.

"For fuck's sake, why not?" Shannon screamed from his end of the floor.

"BecauseStoneColdSaidSo!" Jeff slurred angrily.

"Watch it, Jeff, your Texan's showin' through!" the smaller tackled him once more.

The younger Hardy shouted, "No!"

"Ugh, how're we gonna do this?" Evan said pacing around the room in his dress, "It's bad enough I missed a date with Cody for that old prune! I mean, the diamonds, the champagne, the thousand dollar service-!"

"No Party!" Shannon warned, Jeff drooped and fell right into the roll of fabric, "That's right, Ev. Bitch it all out, I'm the only guy with masculinity listening…"

"Shan, you'll Always be my number one," Evan smiled and pecked the blonde on the cheek, "Don't you ever think no different."

"Out of the goodness of our hearts," the blonde sarcastically remarked, he picked up the end where Jeff's legs slung over, "God, he's heavy! I was wrong to think only Matt gained weight, they're equally fat!"

"Shan, you're a jealous grump with no muscle tone whatsoever," the brunette giggled, picking up the other end of the carpet with ease, "Whatever lumps you have is baby fat."

"Bless you, Ev," Shannon heaved his end through the doorway and back shuffled through the empty narrow arena hallway, "What would I Not do without you? What does it take to have a bionic bod?"

"Practice, dedication, more practice and a challenge," Evan grinned as the dress flowed behind.

"You sound like you're preparing for the Twink-lympics," the blonde snickered and swung the carpet with a woozy Hardy half asleep.

"Twink? You never say 'twink'. Did Matt reprogram his very first eM-effer? You're getting gayer every match, Shan!" the brunette giggled enthusiastically, "I'm so proud of you!"

"Feeling up every guy we lay our hands on is our only job description," Shannon indifferently brushed the statement aside.

"You're about a solid 50% on every diva's Gay-dar," the younger man pouted, "Plus another 15% with those purple tights…I miss those tights…"

"I'm a straight pansy. I'm a straight pansy. I'm a straight pansy…" the eM-Effer repeated to himself the rest of the way.

"Hibbity-bibbity-boppa-blobba-blooba-OOO-MA-GAAAAH!" Umaga shouted, Shannon quickly steered himself, Evan and a hazed Jeff into a corner, the brunette peeked out to the side and quickly led the way to McMahon's office. The Samoan wrestler fumed about the halls alone before coming upon a black t-shirt and shorts-clad CM Punk eyeing a cola from the vending machine. Umaga strode over and screamed in the straightedge's face, "-OOO-MA-GAAAAH!"

"No habla Samoa, amigo," Phil said, not taking his eyes off a bottle of cola, he leant on the vending machine and picked at a chipping nail before pointing to another hallway, "Try Chavo over there."

The islander slammed into the vending machine and grimaced angrily at the wrestler.

"So, uh-Sammo Stud, how was the match?" the smaller male questioned out of courtesy, he watched Umaga plod around in circles before head butting the vending machine with a shout, "I don't blame ya. He handed you your ass out there."

"Bingo," the smaller mumbled quietly after the Samoan native roared, smacking his head against the vending machine, Punk smirked as a bottle tumbled out into view, "Thanks."

"What're you trying to say again?" he leant down and picked up the drink, cracked it open and took a swig of cola while Umaga paced about and poured his heart out:

" 'How am I suppose to tell you more than anyone else knows about him? I'm walking on walls, I'm not hungry for food, moreover for the wellbeing of him, I fuck up training before getting it right the millionth time, I lie to Armando when asked about my thoughts on my match, I'm waking up to sneak to his hotel room door before the moon sets or the sun rises, I'm sleeping on the hotel ceilings…-' "

'Huh…Shut up already. Get to the point…' Phil took another drink, watching as the taller wrestler waved his hands around and toddled about the concrete floors.

" 'I don't wake up one day without thinking of him first. When we get into the ring, it's nothing but magic. Not because I beat him every time, but because I have a compulsive twitch when he comes in contact with me, that my body acts so violently when grazed or struck by him…-' "

'I wonder what they're serving tonight back at the hotel…-' thought Punk, he said to himself, "Mmmmm, steak…"

" 'Are you listening to me? Are You? No You're Not!' " Umaga bellowed into Punk's half surprised face, he slapped the cola out of the wrestler's hand and banged on the vending machine until all the sodas inside crowded around their ankles, "'I like Jeff!' Jeff, Jeff, Jeff!' "

"Come again, fella?" Phil knelt down to the floor, he reached for a bottle of cola, but pulled back when the Samoan wrestler stomped a foot on it and crushed it, "Woah, there, there, dozer. I don't want any Emilio Arr-rrmando Estrrr-rrrada action, grazi?"

Umaga stepped back a pace to allow the straightedge the soda behind his ankle, Phil appreciatively reached for it, nodding while toasting the unopened bottle to the taller wrestler, "So, uhm, tell me what it is y'got me here for?"

" 'I Said Jeff, JEFF! JEFF!' " Umaga incoherently shouted, he stomped on every soda container populating the floor.

Phil wiped his hands of the drinks and transitioned from his kneel to a squatting position, "Mr. Dozer, if you haven't noticed yet: I don't know what the fuck you're saying."

"But…but-" Punk quickly stood up and led Umaga to a visual list of the WWE roster, "Point whatever out, y'know point, with your finger?"

"Oh…" Phil stepped back when a finger jammed into a tiny photo of Jeff, he folded his arms and mused to himself, "You want a piece of the Hardy."

"Hmm. I can get you Jeff…" Umaga whipped his head around to a confirmation to his pining.

"…For a price," the straightedge wickedly smiled, he backed away into a wall and tossed both hands up as the Samoan stalked him, "Whoa, I nor Jeff come Cheap and the numbers on his tag doubled since he's this Close to winning the title! I set you up with him and you live happily ever…in Samoan happiness. How's that sound?"

The Samoan wrestler halted the beginning of his signature ring strike, he paused, mulling over his options that consisted of Phil, who was the ultimate schemer, or stealing the younger Hardy as the original plan. He made up his mind and proceeded to CM Punk.

"Cool it, Dozer!" the straightedge caught the thumb and threw the arm aside, "Look here, I make no guarantees. Y'get what you get, no givebacks, no returns, no trade, grazi?"

"What I can do is this:" giving no room to answer, Phil quickly blurted out his whole improvised plan to the wrestler, he pulled back and smiled, "Huh? Huh? S'that sound more to your satisfaction?"

"Okay, take this-" the straightedge thrust a full trash bag into a confused Umaga's arms, "-change into whatever's in this bag and follow the instructions I put on a receipt."

The island native peeked into the back, his eyes widened and he quickly knotted the bag. Phil opened the plastic bag back up and explained, "It'll look stupid at first, but trust me, he'll be all over you before the night's out."

On the other side of the arena, Shannon and Jeff crouched behind a corner two doors away from McMahon's office.

"What'd you give me?" Jeff mumbled into a duffle bag.

"Your prescription," the smaller wrestler said, "Codeine and a sleep-aid."

The blonde impatiently paced in the four feet of space, the 'enigma' mumbled sleepily, "Shan, I wanna lay down…"

"That's Ev's queue. Where the hell's Ev?" the eM-Effer hissed, just as McMahon exited his office, out strode Evan in tow, "There he is…And the prey circles the hunter's den, as if calling her foe out…"

"Thank you for bringing that Amazing proposal personally, Evan," the business owner said, eyeing the deep plunge of Evan's dress.

"She then ensnares her prey by the utter Moore-on-ish flashiness of her dress…"

"It was no problem at all, Vincent," the smaller brunette grinned, making sure to show some leg from a cut in the side of the chiffon dress, "You want to take a walk? With you and itty bitty little 'ole me?"

"…they share a kiss as she and he skip into the for sure statutory-rapist territory of his Spirit Squad filled limo…"

"Ev…" Jeff mumbled sadly, he then pouted to Shannon, "Wait'll Matt finds out how you treat his boyfriend."

"Y'know, I woulda tossed you at McMahon if Ev wasn't all too willin' already?" the blonde huffed, pulling the carpet along as the younger Hardy lounged on top. They entered the office through the open door, Shannon fought Jeff off the floor and onto the leather couch beside a desk, "There you're. Lay down, Jeff."

Jeff flopped around the couch on his stomach, he mumbled, "I'm hungry, Shan."

"How're you feelin'?" Shannon asked, rolling up the carpet and stashing their bags under the desk.

Jeff weakly pouted, "I want Matt's world famous, world class lemon lime jell-o."

The smaller blonde's expression melted, "You could have Anything in the world, and you Want Jell-o?"

The 'enigma' nodded, "Uh-huh."

Shannon reached the door, he turned and warned, "I'll be back. - Don't move, - Don't breathe, - Don't do anything - until I get back, 'Kay?"

With the door closing, the younger Hardy flopped backwards on the couch again, "Uh-huh."

"Okay, let's see you," Phil impatiently pulled Umaga from inside a janitor's closet to come face to face with the tribal-painted expression, Punk pulled soap out from his pocket and handed the bar to the islander with a shove back into the closet, "Wipe that stuff off, y'wanna Impress him, not Scare him."

"Samoa. Sammo. Hey, Amigo!" Punk yanked the other from out of the closet, to his surprise, the guy cleaned up pretty damned good. Without the face paint or nose piercing, he looked more like a guard for a football team taking a day off, than a wild island warrior. Phil nodded in self pride, he noted the white jersey and baggy denim cut at the mid section of his calves, which hid the tattoos, along with a pair of athletic shoes, as the wrestler took note he found that the braided sections would surely be a red flag to the new champ. The straightedge quickly tucked it under a bandanna and plopped a cap turned backwards on top, he made a thumbs up gesture, "Sex-Ay! Muy Caliente!"

"Ten bucks my amigo, this doesn't come for free, grazi?" Phil said once more, the native islander pulled out a wad of cash from his last garments, then passed it to the smaller wrestler, he warned while counting the crinkled bills, "-One more thing, no matter fuckin' what: don't say a word. Moaning's fine, but don't open your tongue-tied trap, he'll not only Freak, he'll Swonton you before you can say 'UMAGA!' Alright?"

The taller wrestler nodded furiously and headed his way to find Jeff. Before turning the corner toward the locker rooms, he bumped into Shannon who looked him up and down, "Y'wouldn't know where the concession stand, the employee snack spread and Kahli's buffet is, do ya?"

"Hey, baby eM-Effer…" Phil said from across the hall to Shannon, the blonde flipped him off as Umaga shook his head. The V1 follower stopped him once more.

"Hey, hey, hey, hold up. Look, I'm babysitting a drugged up Future Intercontinental Champ about to die of sugar starvation," the blonde informed, glancing every once in a while to Phil who smirked deliriously. Shannon pulled out his wallet and handed the Samoan a bill, "Keep an eye out for him. Here's fifty for your troubles. He's in McMahon's office. 'Kay?"

"What's with the giant blow up bear?" Shannon asked, watching the newly clothed islander jog away, Phil quickly threw the discarded garments into a bag and threw it into the closet.

"Shan, you were checking him out, weren't you? Why should I ask, you're scoping out the Samoan," Punk grinned, the V1 follower glanced into the direction Umaga left to, then the straightedge caught on, "Him? Just a little 101 on how to score a Hardy boy."

"Hey, Get Back Here With My Cash!" Shannon bellowed, the straightedge cut him off with a palm to the mouth, the blonde fought for breath and his words "This's Terrible! I Gotta Warn Jeff-!"

CM Punk shook the wrestler by his shoulders and ranted, "You Ain't gonna tell him nothing…No matter now good I was paid to give him useless advice, I've finally grown a heart in the place of my mushroom for that hairless monkey. He's worked too hard and made too much of an ass of himself for too long trying to attract that non-V1 Hardy."

"Paid? Advice? Mushrooms?" Shannon regained coherency slightly, "How Much, Punk?"

"Ten Americano Washingtons," Phil honestly answered, shrugging and dodging a stubby pair of arms flapping to reach his neck.

"My best friend's worth ten dollars, what a relief…Ten Fuckin' Dollars!" the blonde screamed, "You're So Fuckin' Cheap!"

"And you're too fuckin expensive, Shan," the straightedge dragged Shannon into the closet and bound him to a chair, "Too-Too Expensive. I'm a guy with simple tastes, who likes simple pleasures and a hates a flat wallet."

"This's an all new low, even for you!" hissed the tied wrestler, he bounced around with the chair, "I'm gonna laugh watching you burn in hell!"

Phil turned on a wireless monitor which depicted McMahon's office. The lanky body of Jeff staggering into the shower area appeared on the pocket monitor, Punk smirked in a high pitched voice, "Shan, you wound me so…"

The suddenness of sensations overwhelmed Jeff, and it was only a shower. He left his towel as it hung on a rack, then stepped into a pair of white jogging pants, he leaned heavily on a cold tiled wall as he fought fruitlessly with the zipper on his cotton active wear vest. A warm shower, not scalding hot or irritatingly cold, it was along the lines of OK, and somehow every step on the tiles made him shiver. His cropped black and reddish streaked hair clung to his neck and ears, he stepped cautiously into the carpeted office provided to him. The hard ridges reshaped the pads of his feet to their contours, the sharp compass to the woven polyester and cotton of his vest nearly proved too much.

Arms carried him to the couch when his knees buckled from under, sensations of leather then submitting to the shape of his body caressed lusciously as the warm hand cupping behind his neck. A tremble nor a murmur couldn't be held from shivering it's way out of his mouth. Jeff blinked several times only to be met with the dark color of the couch's backrest cushions, his body shivered limbless on it's side, his left arm exposed and right half laying under his own weight. A heaviness of his own breath forced him to pant and groan as a soothing hand passed over his vision and cleared the short red and black strands away.

Umaga sat wordlessly beside the seemingly defenseless body of the 'enigma', his long time rival and secret objectification of male passion. What could never be, never can, was now possible. What he couldn't tell Jeff in the ring, behind the stage, in person, face to face, could now be said even if neither of them had anything to say to each other. He knew then that he had a chance in his hands to make Jeff understand; he had an opportunity and it could disappear as quickly as it came, he could tell the younger Hardy what kind of hell it was to bear the weight of so many words he wanted to say, but just as much, so many actions he yearned to fulfill if language became a barrier none knew how to overcome.

The Samoan wrestler opened his mouth, only until he remembered what Punk warned him about: '-One more thing, no matter fuckin' what: don't say a word. Moaning's fine, but don't open your tongue-tied trap, he'll not only Freak, he'll Swonton you before you can…' He paused halfway in running his fingers through the 'enigmas' hair, he held his breath as Jeff attempted to gaze about half aware of Shannon's absence, he stared up, and reached out blindly for the other. Umaga stiffened once the gentle artist's hand came in contact with his forehead, then lazily trailed over his cap, dragging both the athletic accessories along. Out slid black chest-length wavy locks, the younger Hardy gently examined with squinting green eyes and his awareness coming back. He gasped, shakily sitting up, "I knew it…"

"This's rape! He's gonna rape Jeff!" Shannon sputtered as he and Phil watched the monitor, they watched as the larger figure pulled Jeff atop his lap.

"Relax, poppa hen, he's just having his first taste of some uncut Bulldozer Boner," Punk laughed, the images touched, became one in a kiss the digital device couldn't depict from it's vague angle.

"Is That Umaga? Have you no sympathy?" the blonde screamed, his cheeks swelling and face reddening.

"I did say Samoan before. And nope, I have a 'No Guarantees' guarantee," said the straightedge as he toggled the camera around the room for a better view.

Shannon bounced around the tiny space as he watched the back end of Jeff's pants being pulled down and hips thrust up. He uselessly pleaded for Evan to walk in on them, for McMahon to fire Umaga, and a piano to fall into the room to interrupt the pre-sex, "Hold on, Jeff! Poppa Shan's coming-!"

"-Eventually…" Phil smiled evilly, kicking the chair leg off so that Shannon supported himself with his tied legs.

Jeff fitfully threw his head to the side, his short red-black hair covering part of his green eyes and the glistening blush on his cheeks. Never having felt fullness, he embraced the warmth brimming from within, he struggled to release the muscles clinging to the source of his pulsing agony, and the tiny slow build of pressure erupting in spasms below his navel. He bit his lip as the feeling grew stronger, more potent every inch he descended. Then an agonizingly slow, luxurious tingle crept throughout his torso, centering just inches above where the sensations stretched him open and nuzzled along his inner walls. The same pair of arms caught him as his spine curled backward, deepening the weight and depth altogether. A deep sigh breached past his closed teeth as he reached for the arms holding him in a 45 degree angle from the floor, he whispered, "It's okay. I might not have understood the first time, but it's okay. I understand you…"

Jeff's hand then left the Samoan native's arm, he took the limb supporting under the small of his back and let the other under the center of his shoulder blades stay. He guided the stockier palm to his collarbone where the zipper rested against the white cotton, the islander took the queue and zipped down. Gradually, every span of muscle and graceful indenture revealed itself to him, as soon as the last metal clasp snapped off, the wrestler's tattooed fingers parted the cloth. Umaga stared speechlessly, the sight of the 'enigma' leant back, his prominent sinew, the sleeve tattoos on his right arm and indulging in their situation. The younger male grasped the neck of the Samoan's jersey and pulled until his lips pressed to an ear. He rasped low that the taller wrestler had to strain to hear, "…what're you waiting for? An invitation? Make me understand you, Umaga…"

Jeff torturously pulled himself off the lap, he paused a fraction of a second and dropped once, his shout paired with the abrupt slap of their bodies together broke the island native's resolve. Umaga dropped the smaller body lower another several degrees until the younger yelled throatily to the hard nudge slanted wholly at the concentration of nerve endings. The taller wrestler drew out of the restricting enclosure, he then lunged back in, sweeping wildly and deeply at Jeff's prostate. The younger Hardy shouted out through the haze of his grateful tears, he stared boldly back at the hypnotic dark eyes, inevitably dragging him in, away from their rivalry, fatefully rising to their peaks.

"Nice spread, don't you think, Shan?" Phil asked, holding the monitor up to Shannon.

"Turn it off!" the blonde screamed at the sight of Jeff being thrust into, "That's my best Friend I'm watching on your Peeping Tom porno-cam!"

"Look at it this way: Jeff lost it up the ass before you," Punk laughed to himself as he checked the time, "They've been in there for over half an hour…"

"I'm takin' a guilt trip Just for Jeff!" the smaller wrestler huffed, "Matt's gonna Totally shit a brick when he hears about ALL this and then he's gonna murder me with the said shat brick and then he's gonna shit more bricks and build a crematoria to burn my body in! Thank you, Punk! Whatta way to make Jeff's deflowering rites memorable when I'll be remembered as the ass who paid his defloweree $50!"

"A. That isn't possible. B. He doesn't have a bionic butt like Evan. …I like it," the straightedge wrote the phrase down.

Shannon gnashed, "When I get outta here, Punk, I Swear-!"

"I'm so scared. A blonde leprechaun's imagining me bent over a table with my knees tucked behind my ears! Scary," the other giggled to himself, he turned to his friend, patting his head, "Aw, it sucks to be short."

The blonde threw his head and hissed, "Your days're numbered, Punk! Morrison might be in another country, but I got 'em on speed dial."

"Lemme see…Oh-oh oh-" Phil pulled the phone out and threw it into an air duct, "Oh, lookat that…You'll need Rey to get your phone. Pity."

"MORRISON! WHERE'RE YOU!" Shannon howled hopelessly.

"Where the square edges are!" CM Punk shouted, he gazed at the time again as the Samoan's mouth settled on Jeff's chest, "Damn!…they Definitely qualify for the Butt Plunger Olympics."

Umaga kissed along Jeff's damp upper torso as he jerked in and out of the panting and groaning body, their nearing destination quickened his pace and upped both their volumes. The younger man's body wilted even further backwards until the supporting arms laid his twisting body atop the leather couch. He continued to mindlessly squirm and moan on the leather while the islander's arms heaved his legs out from under and hooked one on his shoulder and the other on a propped arm, on hand trailed along the 'enigmas' opened mouth, then pinched a nipple, he screamed delightfully at the sharp pain and the voluptuous warm aftershock of sensation emitting from his chest. The younger man's upper body writhed about while his legs squeezed on the shoulder and arm sustaining his wide-kneed stance. Jeff pulled the arm hooking his leg away, his knee swung on the other shoulder as he pushed the hand to his firm abdomen, his breath and tone hitched a degree as soon as the native Samoan's hand reached beneath his half clothed hips and kneaded greedily at taut nether cheek.

The younger Hardy bowed forward as the other male's hand swept the unzipped white garment aside his partner's glistening torso. Jeff melted into the crouched forward form, his erection rubbing decadently against the cool smooth fabric, he brought their faces together again, him staring into the rich dark iris' immersing themselves in him. He admitted tremblingly before he forgot the realization he now accepted, "You love me…don't you…"

Umaga said the only word he could understand, the only thing he wanted to hear Jeff say to him, "Yes."

"Poor Jeff…" Shannon sniffled.

"What's so poor about Jeff? He's gettin some," Punk scolded

"Don't you see the resemblance?" the blonde shrieked at the sight on the monitor.

"The resemblance of What?" Phil asked stupidly. "It looks like a killer whale eating up a baby sea lion!" the smaller wrestler pointed out. "Oh yeah, huh! It's like a fucked up optical illusion or somethin," the straightedge laughed as the monitor showed the pair kissing.

The Samoan reveled in Jeff's cloying taste, the utter plush of his lips taking the islander over, the lightest flick of his tongue and the moans he heard inside his head as the 'enigma' continued to brace against every thrust upward into his welcoming body. Jeff flung his head back and moaned into the air surrounding them, he ejaculated near punishingly into the islander's abdomen, his groan drew out louder as Umaga drove full on into his prostate, they both shouted as the Samoan came and the 'enigma' coming twice.

"Eeeew!" Shannon mumbled.

"Mission Complete," Punk stated, tossing the monitor and opening the closet door.

"Wait, wait, wait! What're you in this for?" the blonde asked.

Phil turned then thought, "10 bucks and some back door protection from Morrison." "Wait. Wait! Where're You Going!" the smaller wrestler shouted. "Home," the straightedge simply answered.

"What about me?" Shannon squeaked. "What about you?" Punk stood outside with his cola and took a drink.

"Untie Me!" the North Carolinian yelled.

"Wait, I still need you for somethin…Ah!" Phil jogged from the door and brought along the Boogeyman, "I'm saving you for Boogeyman."

"The dough?" the straightedge motioned for the money, the other wrestler handed them to him, he counted and said, "Have at 'em, Boogey-Wiggles."

"PUNK!" Shannon squealed as Phil shut the door with the two inside, "I'M WORTH MORE THAN TEN DOLLARS!" "PU-U-U-U-UNK!" the smaller screamed from inside the closet.

"Ah, I love the feeling of runnin out of Pre-Paid virgins," the straightedge happily strode down the hall and began counting the bills given to him, "We are one big, Happy, Queer Business…-"

"-And business is good…" a smirk came face to face with Punk.

"C'mon, Shan, Unlock the door! Unlock the Door! I was kidding-!" Phil sprinted back to the closet and jiggled frantically at the locked door, "Here, you can even have the thirty bucks I made, Just Open The Fucking Door!"

Fumbling erupted behind the door as Shannon struggled to speak, "Punk! I'd move if I weren't being molested by a fuckin' Warlock!"

"Thirty Bucks! Thirty Bucks! You won't Open The Door For THIRTY-FUCKING-BUCKS!" Punk shouldered into the door but it held stiffly as he mustered up another offer, "I'll throw in my Car!"

"Not this time, Punkie, you're coming with me-" Morrison chuckled, he threw a squirming Phil over his shoulder, "I love the Feel of Pre-Paid virgins, too."

"Shan!" Punk shouted, he rummaged in his pockets and threw his whole wad of keys at the door, "My Apartment! There's the keys!"

"Punk!" Shannon yelped.

"Shan!" the straightedge hollered pleadingly to his friend, "Please-! I'll throw in my-!"

"Pu-oOooOooh! Do that again…"

Phil's jaw dropped, he ceased his struggling and yelled, "You Fuckin' Traitor!"

"We are one big happy queer business, and business is good…" Morrison smiled to himself with a slap landing on Punk's ass.

"I'm quitting the business tomorrow!" the straightedge yelled feebly fighting his way from an awaiting limo.

Afterwards:

Evan came home to Matt naked, Matt still doesn't know how Evan became suddenly flexible…A Spirit Squad orgy happened.

Morrison is now Punk's only customer, Punk is Still trying to quit the business…Punk's selling himself to Morrison…Only.

Boogeyman actually paid $20 for Shannon, Shannon doesn't believe he's worth $20…He now wears $20,000 dresses…and the purple tights.

Umaga's learning English from Jeff…The Entire roster Still doesn't understand a word of Umaga's English, because he only answers: "I love Jeff"…to ANY question.

…The End…

-R.I.P. Eddie Fatu (aka Umaga/Jamal) 03.28.1973-12.04.2009-

:::slashdlite, you're an ever present awesomeness!:::

A.N.2: The clothes I tried to describe were one of Umaga's earlier gimmicks as 'Jamal' in the stable '3-Minute Warning'; & I was pretty damned sure that his facial 'tattoos' could come off, because it changed or smudged Every match he had.

LMAO! Finished 5:00 a.m.! Utter Complete silliness! I swear, I didn't plan for Jeff to be codeine-ed (that was suppose to be for the other fic 'Pharmacopoeia', but oh well) or for Punk to give the play-by-play, or for our guys to all be one story. If this fic disgusted/offended/or turned off anyone: Laugh! This was for Everyone's entertainment, slashdlite wanted a comedy, so here it is; a confused Jeffie getting stuffed by UMAGA! Plus help from Punkie. I didn't know how to put some hilarity into Umaga's character, so this came from a Very loose imitation. He talks like a Pokemon of some sorts, because all I could understand out of his dozer career was: "OOO-MA-GAAAH!" or simply Umaga with extended vowels.

Who stole the show: Shannon's dirty mouth? Evan's chiffon dress? Phil's virgin-dealing? Or the Jeff/Umaga Smut? I think the Shan/Punk kidnapping was pretty unusual.

New Jeff/Umaga Amalgamations: Jumaff, Hargeff? Jumardy? Juma, Jumbo! Giraffe? Samoan Skittles! Rainbow Dozer! LMFAO

-I don't make it an obligation for reviews. Feel free, though.