"What are you doing?" Lance whined, scowling at his boyfriend from the bed.

 The Undertaker glared up at him, shoving the rest of his things back into his bag. "I'm leaving, you little idiot!" he snapped.

 Lance scowled. "Why????" he whined, his voice high pitched, an attempted pout on his lips.

 Taker sighed a long suffering sigh, rolling his eyes. "Because I've been dating you for three god damn months, and finally, FINALLY, I get you into bed, and you tell me you don't want to!"

 Lance pouted. "Well what you were doing hurt! And as my mum told me when I was little, 'If it hurts, don't stick it there!'"

 Taker shook his head. "I don't even want to know what led up to her telling you that! But that's no excuse in this case! All I want is sex, dammit!"

 "Well I want to have sex!" Lance insisted.

 Taker looked at him. "Then you'll let me do what I was trying to?"

 Lance frowned. "Not unless you make it not hurt!"

 Taker growled. "I see why you're a fucking virgin now! You're a moron! It ALWAYS hurts at first! If you'd just let me do it, you'd see how good it feels after that."

 Lance crossed his arms stubbornly. "I told you, I didn't like it! It didn't feel good at all! And for that matter, I didn't like you being on top of me like that either! You were squishing me, and you smell! Couldn't you have taken a shower?"

 "That's it!" Taker shouldered his bag, striding over to the door. "We're finished! I'm gonna go find a twink who actually knows his shit and who'll actually let me bed him!"

 "Hey!" Lance slapped the mattress in temper, glaring at the tall wrestler. "You can't dump me just 'cos I don't want you to do that to me!"

 Taker glared at him. "I can and will!" he hissed, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. Lance glared at the door for a moment, then sighed. He picked up the phone, dialing a familiar number. He waited as it rang, twining his finger around the cord.

 "Hey, who's this?"

 "It's me Justin." Lance frowned at the wall. "It happened again!"

 Justin sighed. "You're kidding me! Geez man. Do you know how many men you've gone through in the last 6 months? Why the heck do I bother setting you up with these guys if you're just gonna get yourself dumped?"

 "Well, I didn't mean to get dumped!" Lance retorted, his pout increasing. "Taker just stormed out!"

 Justin sighed again. "Please, please tell me you at least got laid?" Lance's silence give the bald athelete his answer. "God Lance!" he exclaimed. "You need to get laid already. What the heck is the problem? You've got an ass, Taker's got a dick and a good libido, how the hell could you go three months without sleeping with him?"

 "I don't know. It just didn't work!" Lance replied sulkily. "So what should I do now?"

 "Don't ask me. I've set up with every bloody single man in the WWF Lance! They all came away swearing they'd never date you again. I don't know what the hell you did to poor Billy Gunn, but you scared the guy so much he got a freaking restraining order against you!"

 "Humph. Well it's not my fault I gagged and accidentally bit down," Lance muttered.

 There was a long drawn out sigh on the other end of the phone. "Whatever. We'll talk about this tomorrow. Wait a sec, does this mean Taker's available now?"

 "Well, yeah, I guess," Lance replied, frowning. "Why?"

 "Um, no reason," Justin stated, sounding very eager to get off the phone. "Tell you what, I'll just go find him and talk to him, and find out whether his - er- equipment is working right. Later."

 "Bye." Lance hung up the phone, grabbing the tv remote and flipping through channels as he continued to pout. "Stupid badass biker," he muttered. "Like I needed him and his toilet brush hair!"


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