A Brother Protects

Matt Hardy trailed slowly behind his brother as he limped slightly, one arm tucked around the back of his neck, holding his aching head. His sweat dampened hair clung to his forearm as he moved, his head lowered, his eyes locked on the ground.

Jeff merely shook his head, still not looking up though Matt was sure he would be able to feel the intensity of his gaze locked upon his handsome features, longing for those hazel-esque green eyes to look up into his, just so Matt could take comfort in the fact his baby brother really was okay. But Jeff seemed determined to keep his eyes locked on the dirty tiled floor of the hallway, focused only on walking. His concern only increasing, Matt reached out to touch the arm that Jeff held around his head, but Jeff shrugged away, "I said I was okay," he told Matt tightly.

A flush of anger filling Matt, he snapped softly, "You don't look fucking fine." He pushed a little more gently, "Talk to me." Jeff shook his head, moving along the hallway with a little more speed, and his brother's mood finally getting the better of him, Matt locked a hand into the back of Jeff's pants and whirled him around. "Jeff..."

But the sentence died when Jeff blanched, yanking back from his brother like he had been burned. For the briefest moment, he looked up...

"I said I was okay, Matt. Jesus!" he shouted, turning back away, grateful to see the locker room door ahead of him. He shoved it open, storming through it and pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor, all too aware that Matt had followed closely behind him. He could hear the makings of his name forming in his brother's voice, and furious that Matt was even pushing him, he told him angrily, "I'm going to take a shower."

The words trailed away, hurt filling the eldest Hardy Boy as his brother disappeared into the showers. What the hell was happening to his baby brother? He'd been a mess for weeks. Always tired, always angry. Nothing he seemed to say or do ever seemed to make it be any better.

Scolding hot water streamed down over Jeff Hardy's head as he leant forward into the wall of the shower, his skin turning a bright pink under the sheer heat of hit, his skin tingling in pain. But he did not care.

"Everyone says Matt's the bitch... Everyone says it like it's a point of fact... Like there's no way you'd ever take it any other way..."

Jeff's closed eyes clenched even tighter shut, his body beginning to tremble as the voice filled his head, the Hardy Boy desperately trying to ward it off, not wanting the memory. Not wanting the pain.

"But I bet you'd like to be the bitch." His fingers trailed along the freshly battered cheek, a dark smile teetering onto his face, "I'd bet your sweet little ass on it."

He shook his head, straightening under the water, his hands running over his face, pushing back his hair, long, deep breaths filling his lungs as he fought to gain some control over his head. He didn't want this. Not here. Not now.

His face buried into the mattress, near suffocating him, the rough hand that nestled between his shoulder blades pinning him there, a second hand locked around the back of his neck, near strangling him as it pinched tightly while a second pair of hands held his wrists, locking them down into the soft material beneath him that suddenly felt like fingers clawing at him, holding him down, tearing across his flesh.

"Does he ever do this to you?" His body tensed as he felt himself filled by the unwelcome cock of the man perched above him, slamming into him deeply, dryly, tearing at his ass, "Or is your ass too good to be violated?" The voice was tight with pleasure as he was slammed into again and again, "Am I the first one to fuck your pretty little ass?" That all too familiar, maniacal laughter filled the room and though pain racked his body he struggled, only managing to squirm slightly under the weight that locked his legs to the bed. "Such a pretty little ass..." the man breathed, "I've always wanted to fuck your tight little ass," he groaned.

A soft sob escaped Jeff and he slumped to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, tears of pain, tears of anger, being gratefully lost under the stream of hot water, his body aching.

The dirty feel of skin on skin still filled him. His touch, unwelcome, unwanted, still there, loitering lazily, darkly on his pale white flesh as an ongoing reminder of that night.

The one night Matt had not been there. The one night the woman Jeff had come to loathe as much as he loved her had taken his brother away.

The hot sting of tears filled Matt Hardy's eyes as he stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on where his baby brother sat huddled, his muscular shoulders shaking, a sure sign of the tears that Matt knew would be flooding his beautiful face.

It had been a passing comment, another lewd remark from the man Matt had come to expect little better from. And at the time, it had seemed like nothing more than another of his sleazy comments. But now...

Stumbling through the ropes and falling in his haste to get into the ring, he landed with a thud, but unperturbed, his face one of complete satisfaction, he crawled across the mat, contently laying across the still body laid out in the middle of it.

Furious, Matt turned and stormed across the locker room, tearing the door open and marching down the hall to the small room that he knew he'd be in, his fists clenching by his side as he walked, slamming into the door as he opened it, stepping inside, his eyes immediately finding that spiteful face, hidden slightly by the cap he wore.

Nausea filled the eldest Hardy Boy at the thought of this man... This excuse for a man at best, even laying a hand on his brother... "Paul..." he could barely speak the name for his fury, "I'm going to kill you," he spoke lowly, but the words were rising into an angry scream as he went on, "I am going to tear your balls off your body and shove them down your god damn fucking throat!"

And Paul Heyman laughed, thrusting a thumb toward the monster of a man who stood in the corner, "and you think he's going to let you?"

Matt cast a look at Brock Lesnar and snarled, "I think he's going to have no choice." He rushed forward, slamming straight into Brock and knocking him off his feet with the sheer force of the hip and shoulder he buried into his chest and groin. The moment Brock was down, he snatched at the nearest chair and brought it crashing down on his face.

Horror filled Paul's face and he stood, moving to hurry toward the door, but Matt was on him, locking a hand on his ponytail and yanking him back into the room. He threw him down onto the floor and slammed the door he had left open closed, turning to stand over the suddenly not so confident creature before him.

The door of the locker room opened and despite himself, Jeff Hardy jumped where he stood, now fully dressed, rubbing a towel furiously against his head to dry the last of his hair. His eyes found Matt standing in the doorway and relieved, he managed the tiniest hint of a smile, "Hey."

But there was no return smile to meet him, his brother glancing about the room, nodding when he saw no one else was in there and closing the door. He moved over to his brother, "I want you to come with me."

There was something in Matt's voice. Something dark, almost evil, and it surprised Jeff, the younger of the two brothers not used to seeing his brother so...

Jeff shook his head, unable to place what it was. His voice soft, his confusion dancing in it, he asked, "What do I need to see?"

"You're being awful cryptic..." Jeff's voice trailed away, his brow creasing together in concern. "Matt," he whispered, reaching a hand out to touch his brother's face, suddenly aware of the blood that painted his forehead, "You're bleeding..."

Matt took hold of Jeff's hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it lightly, lovingly, "Jeff, please." He whispered, "Just come with me." Still confused, but more curious than ever, Jeff nodded, Matt giving him a soft smile, keeping a hold on his hand, and leading him from the room. He lead Jeff down the hallway, bringing to him to a halt outside Paul Heyman's make shift locker room, his brother immediately tensing. He turned to face him, "In here..." he squeezed Jeff's hand supportively.

But his brother shook his head, trying to cover his reaction as best he could, "Nah, man. I just seen enough of Heyman out there, thanks very much."

Matt cut him off, moving to wrap his arms around him, his eyes filled with his hurt, "Why didn't you tell me?" Jeff shook his head, unable to reply, and above all else unable to explain why he had hidden the truth from the man he loved most in all the world. Reading him, Matt nodded, "Well, then..." a dark smile filled his face, "Regardless..." He motioned to Jeff, "I beat the shit of him... And now it's your turn."

Confused, and completely overcome, Jeff whispered, "My turn?" Matt nodded and suddenly realizing what Matt was implying, he cooed, "Oh."

For the longest time, he stared down at Heyman, the man possibly not even aware Jeff was there. He moved away from Matt, stepping slowly over to Heyman before dropping to his knees before him. He reached out, yanking a hold of his ponytail and turning his face up to look into it. Blood trickled down Heyman's tear-stained face, and despite himself, Jeff smiled.

"J... Jeff..." Heyman managed to stammer as he looked up at the youngest Hardy Boy, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please don't... Please don't hurt me..."

It was empowering in a way. Seeing the man who had tormented him cry. Seeing the man who had tormented him beg. It gave him a sense of pleasure he might never be able to explain. "Don't hurt you, Paul?" he whispered coldly, "Don't hurt you the way you hurt me?"

And for the first time in weeks a chuckle escaped Jeff Hardy. An honest to God chuckle that was slowly filtering into a legitimate laugh as he leaned forward, his hot breath smothering Paul's face, "Not even in your wildest dreams." He grinned, drawing back on the air around him and spitting, wholly, fully into Heyman's face and then slamming his face back down into the floor.

Concern painted Matt's face though, "Are you sure that's all you want to do to him?" Jeff nodded and he stepped forward, fussing over his younger brother adoringly, "You're really sure?" Again Jeff nodded, melting forward into Matt's attentions, "And you're going to be okay?"

"With my big brother looking out for me," Jeff pressed his lips lightly to Matt's, loving him completely, "Something tells me I'm going to be." When he pulled away he tugged on Matt's hand, leading him back out into the hall and closing the door behind him. They moved down the hallway toward the locker room together, exchanging a warm smile. "But you know..."


	A Brother Protects Matt Hardy trailed slowly behind his brother as he limped slightly, one arm tucked around the back of his neck, holding his aching head. His sweat dampened hair clung to his forearm as he moved, his head lowered, his eyes locked on the ground. "You okay, man?" The elder man stepped up in time with his brother, his eyes locking on the grimace set on Jeff's face. "Yeah," was all Jeff said. "You sure? Lesnar didn't fucking hurt you again, did he? I hate that bastard..." Jeff merely shook his head, still not looking up though Matt was sure he would be able to feel the intensity of his gaze locked upon his handsome features, longing for those hazel-esque green eyes to look up into his, just so Matt could take comfort in the fact his baby brother really was okay. But Jeff seemed determined to keep his eyes locked on the dirty tiled floor of the hallway, focused only on walking. His concern only increasing, Matt reached out to touch the arm that Jeff held around his head, but Jeff shrugged away, "I said I was okay," he told Matt tightly. A flush of anger filling Matt, he snapped softly, "You don't look fucking fine." He pushed a little more gently, "Talk to me." Jeff shook his head, moving along the hallway with a little more speed, and his brother's mood finally getting the better of him, Matt locked a hand into the back of Jeff's pants and whirled him around. "Jeff..." But the sentence died when Jeff blanched, yanking back from his brother like he had been burned. For the briefest moment, he looked up... And Matt nearly cried out when he saw the pain in his brother's eyes. "Jeff..." "I said I was okay, Matt. Jesus!" he shouted, turning back away, grateful to see the locker room door ahead of him. He shoved it open, storming through it and pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor, all too aware that Matt had followed closely behind him. He could hear the makings of his name forming in his brother's voice, and furious that Matt was even pushing him, he told him angrily, "I'm going to take a shower." "But Jeff..." The words trailed away, hurt filling the eldest Hardy Boy as his brother disappeared into the showers. What the hell was happening to his baby brother? He'd been a mess for weeks. Always tired, always angry. Nothing he seemed to say or do ever seemed to make it be any better. And it was killing him. "What is it, Jeff?" he whispered, pondering desperately, "What's the matter with you?" ~~ Scolding hot water streamed down over Jeff Hardy's head as he leant forward into the wall of the shower, his skin turning a bright pink under the sheer heat of hit, his skin tingling in pain. But he did not care. "Everyone says Matt's the bitch... Everyone says it like it's a point of fact... Like there's no way you'd ever take it any other way..."* Jeff's closed eyes clenched even tighter shut, his body beginning to tremble as the voice filled his head, the Hardy Boy desperately trying to ward it off, not wanting the memory. Not wanting the pain. "But I bet you'd like to be the bitch." His fingers trailed along the freshly battered cheek, a dark smile teetering onto his face, "I'd bet your sweet little ass on it." He shook his head, straightening under the water, his hands running over his face, pushing back his hair, long, deep breaths filling his lungs as he fought to gain some control over his head. He didn't want this. Not here. Not now. But the memory was coming regardless... His face buried into the mattress, near suffocating him, the rough hand that nestled between his shoulder blades pinning him there, a second hand locked around the back of his neck, near strangling him as it pinched tightly while a second pair of hands held his wrists, locking them down into the soft material beneath him that suddenly felt like fingers clawing at him, holding him down, tearing across his flesh. He wanted to cry, to beg for mercy, but he would not give them the pleasure. "Does he ever do this to you?" His body tensed as he felt himself filled by the unwelcome cock of the man perched above him, slamming into him deeply, dryly, tearing at his ass, "Or is your ass too good to be violated?" The voice was tight with pleasure as he was slammed into again and again, "Am I the first one to fuck your pretty little ass?" That all too familiar, maniacal laughter filled the room and though pain racked his body he struggled, only managing to squirm slightly under the weight that locked his legs to the bed. "Such a pretty little ass..." the man breathed, "I've always wanted to fuck your tight little ass," he groaned. A soft sob escaped Jeff and he slumped to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, tears of pain, tears of anger, being gratefully lost under the stream of hot water, his body aching. The dirty feel of skin on skin still filled him. His touch, unwelcome, unwanted, still there, loitering lazily, darkly on his pale white flesh as an ongoing reminder of that night. The one night Matt had not been there. The one night the woman Jeff had come to loathe as much as he loved her had taken his brother away. And left him to be ravaged by wolves. ~~ The hot sting of tears filled Matt Hardy's eyes as he stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on where his baby brother sat huddled, his muscular shoulders shaking, a sure sign of the tears that Matt knew would be flooding his beautiful face. And suddenly the eldest Hardy Boy wasn't so confused. "You know your brother has the sweetest little ass..."* It had been a passing comment, another lewd remark from the man Matt had come to expect little better from. And at the time, it had seemed like nothing more than another of his sleazy comments. But now... Stumbling through the ropes and falling in his haste to get into the ring, he landed with a thud, but unperturbed, his face one of complete satisfaction, he crawled across the mat, contently laying across the still body laid out in the middle of it. It hadn't been that out of the ordinary, except that Jeff was... His eyes filtered over his brother's naked back, knowing fulling him. Furious, Matt turned and stormed across the locker room, tearing the door open and marching down the hall to the small room that he knew he'd be in, his fists clenching by his side as he walked, slamming into the door as he opened it, stepping inside, his eyes immediately finding that spiteful face, hidden slightly by the cap he wore. A smile touched his twisted face, "Matt." Nausea filled the eldest Hardy Boy at the thought of this man... This excuse for a man at best, even laying a hand on his brother... "Paul..." he could barely speak the name for his fury, "I'm going to kill you," he spoke lowly, but the words were rising into an angry scream as he went on, "I am going to tear your balls off your body and shove them down your god damn fucking throat!" And Paul Heyman laughed, thrusting a thumb toward the monster of a man who stood in the corner, "and you think he's going to let you?" Matt cast a look at Brock Lesnar and snarled, "I think he's going to have no choice." He rushed forward, slamming straight into Brock and knocking him off his feet with the sheer force of the hip and shoulder he buried into his chest and groin. The moment Brock was down, he snatched at the nearest chair and brought it crashing down on his face. Blood spattered over Brock's still naked chest, the hulk of a man out cold. Horror filled Paul's face and he stood, moving to hurry toward the door, but Matt was on him, locking a hand on his ponytail and yanking him back into the room. He threw him down onto the floor and slammed the door he had left open closed, turning to stand over the suddenly not so confident creature before him. "Matt..." he begged softly, "Please..." ~~ The door of the locker room opened and despite himself, Jeff Hardy jumped where he stood, now fully dressed, rubbing a towel furiously against his head to dry the last of his hair. His eyes found Matt standing in the doorway and relieved, he managed the tiniest hint of a smile, "Hey." But there was no return smile to meet him, his brother glancing about the room, nodding when he saw no one else was in there and closing the door. He moved over to his brother, "I want you to come with me." Arching an eyebrow, Jeff asked curiously, "Come with you where?" "There's something you need to see." There was something in Matt's voice. Something dark, almost evil, and it surprised Jeff, the younger of the two brothers not used to seeing his brother so... Jeff shook his head, unable to place what it was. His voice soft, his confusion dancing in it, he asked, "What do I need to see?" "Just come with me," Matt paused before adding a softer, "Please." "You're being awful cryptic..." Jeff's voice trailed away, his brow creasing together in concern. "Matt," he whispered, reaching a hand out to touch his brother's face, suddenly aware of the blood that painted his forehead, "You're bleeding..." Matt shrugged, "It's not mine." "Then who..." Matt took hold of Jeff's hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it lightly, lovingly, "Jeff, please." He whispered, "Just come with me." Still confused, but more curious than ever, Jeff nodded, Matt giving him a soft smile, keeping a hold on his hand, and leading him from the room. He lead Jeff down the hallway, bringing to him to a halt outside Paul Heyman's make shift locker room, his brother immediately tensing. He turned to face him, "In here..." he squeezed Jeff's hand supportively. But his brother shook his head, trying to cover his reaction as best he could, "Nah, man. I just seen enough of Heyman out there, thanks very much." "But you need to see this," was all Matt said, opening the door and practically dragging Jeff inside... What Jeff saw startled him. His handsome face creased together in complete dismay. Brock Lesnar was still laid out, unconscious in the corner. And Paul Heyman... "Matt..." Jeff barely breathed. Paul Heyman was naked on the floor, his body battered, bruised... Broken. "What did you... Why did you..." Jeff looked up at Matt, confused, tears filling his eyes. "I know, Jeff." He whispered, "I know what he did to you." "How?" And Matt Hardy smiled, "You think you can hide anything from me?" "But I..." Matt cut him off, moving to wrap his arms around him, his eyes filled with his hurt, "Why didn't you tell me?" Jeff shook his head, unable to reply, and above all else unable to explain why he had hidden the truth from the man he loved most in all the world. Reading him, Matt nodded, "Well, then..." a dark smile filled his face, "Regardless..." He motioned to Jeff, "I beat the shit of him... And now it's your turn." Confused, and completely overcome, Jeff whispered, "My turn?" Matt nodded and suddenly realizing what Matt was implying, he cooed, "Oh." For the longest time, he stared down at Heyman, the man possibly not even aware Jeff was there. He moved away from Matt, stepping slowly over to Heyman before dropping to his knees before him. He reached out, yanking a hold of his ponytail and turning his face up to look into it. Blood trickled down Heyman's tear-stained face, and despite himself, Jeff smiled. "J... Jeff..." Heyman managed to stammer as he looked up at the youngest Hardy Boy, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please don't... Please don't hurt me..." He wanted to cry, to beg for mercy, but he would not give them the pleasure...* It was empowering in a way. Seeing the man who had tormented him cry. Seeing the man who had tormented him beg. It gave him a sense of pleasure he might never be able to explain. "Don't hurt you, Paul?" he whispered coldly, "Don't hurt you the way you hurt me?" "Please... Please..." And for the first time in weeks a chuckle escaped Jeff Hardy. An honest to God chuckle that was slowly filtering into a legitimate laugh as he leaned forward, his hot breath smothering Paul's face, "Not even in your wildest dreams." He grinned, drawing back on the air around him and spitting, wholly, fully into Heyman's face and then slamming his face back down into the floor. When he turned to look at Matt, his grin had only deepened. Concern painted Matt's face though, "Are you sure that's all you want to do to him?" Jeff nodded and he stepped forward, fussing over his younger brother adoringly, "You're really sure?" Again Jeff nodded, melting forward into Matt's attentions, "And you're going to be okay?" "With my big brother looking out for me," Jeff pressed his lips lightly to Matt's, loving him completely, "Something tells me I'm going to be." When he pulled away he tugged on Matt's hand, leading him back out into the hall and closing the door behind him. They moved down the hallway toward the locker room together, exchanging a warm smile. "But you know..." Matt's face fell at the returning seriousness to Jeff's, "What?" Jeff chuckled, "This is not going to do much for your image as the bitch and my image as the master..." And Matt's smile returned. Something telling him his brother really would be okay after all. ~ The End ~ Main \| Fan Fic Menu \| Slashy Goodness