Features: Undertaker (Mark Calaway)
Rating: NC17 for language and sexual situations Usual disclaimer - own nothing but my original characters, all the other people own themselves, WWE owns the trademark names, I'm doing this to exercise my creativity and for the sheer pleasure of writing. Ask my therapist!
Thanks for reading and remember - feedback is love . . . /end obligatory attention whoring!
The temperature had dropped even further with the sun going down, and Harley snuggled in closer to Mark, who didn't seem to mind the cold. Fortunately, they didn't have far to walk, as the bar and grill he had in mind was only a few blocks from the hotel.
At Mark's request, they were seated at a table in the back, a little out of the way. He held her chair for her, waiting until she sat down before going around to his own chair. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair as she unbuttoned her coat, sitting opposite her in a dark hoodie.
She paused in the act of slipping her arms out of her coat, hoping her mouth wasn't hanging open. He looked so different! The hoodie only emphasized his size, those broad shoulders appearing even wider somehow. Suddenly, she wanted to be on his lap, held close to him. Just for the comfort of being near him.
Fortunately, it appeared he hadn't noticed her momentary startlement, and she dropped her gaze as she settled her coat behind her and adjusted the neckline of her sweater. When she looked up, his eyes were wide.
"Something wrong?" She looked down at herself.
He grinned. "Hell, no, sweetheart! Just . . . admiring your sweater."
She chuckled. "Why, thank you Mark."
He took advantage of her amusement to try to recover his wits somewhat. Holy hell, that was some sweater! The wide neckline showed off her neck and shoulders, and the little keyhole thing she had happening hinted at her cleavage. Just as well she was on the other side of the table. He doubted he'd be able to keep his hands off her if she was sitting next to him. But he was going to enjoy the view immensely, that was for damn sure.
They ordered beers, and chatted as they perused the menu. He assured her the food was good, and once they had ordered, the conversation flowed easily. Funny how they could always find plenty to talk about, and Harley was a little bemused by how much she could open up to him, not to mention how much they laughed when they were together.
After dinner, Mark excused himself as their waitress cleared the table, and Harley ordered a fresh round of beers. When the beers arrived and Mark was still missing, she looked around curiously and spotted him surrounded by a number of fans, signing autographs and having his picture taken. From the look on his face, he was doing so with remarkably good grace, given the fact they'd interrupted his dinner date.
She settled back in her chair, sipping her beer, knowing he'd be back when he could. And so it was quite a surprise when a voice sounded behind her.
"Well hello there, sweet thing."
'Sweet thing'? She turned around, curious about who in their right mind would address her in such a fashion, and saw a dark haired stranger giving her what she supposed he thought was a rakish grin. Unfortunately, it looked rather more like a leer to her.
Still, it wasn't like she hadn't dealt with this kind of thing before. Polite and firm, that was the ticket. "Hello."
"Now what's a fine lookin' woman like you doin' all alone?"
Oh please. Harley fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm not alone."
The man made a show of looking around. "Well I don't see no one here with you, darlin'. He's a damn fool if he's left you here all by your lonesome, if you want my opinion."
"I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear your views on the matter," she said.
"That's as may be, but why you don't you and me take a spin 'round the dance floor, huh? Show him what happens when he leaves you by yourself - which is just damn criminal, you lookin' as pretty as you do."
Time to put an end to this nonsense. "I don't dance." "With morons", she was sorely tempted to add.
That supposedly rakish grin got wider. "Well then, why don't we just find somethin' else fun to do?"
A rumbling male voice came from behind him. "Like me hurtin' you for messin' with my woman?"
Harley couldn't hide her grin as the stranger turned to see Mark breathing down his neck. And towering over him by a good foot or so. Not to mention looking pretty damned pissed off.
"You're with him?" the stranger barely managed to squeak, the grin, or leer, wiped clean off his face.
"Yep." Oh yeah, it didn't get any better than this, Harley thought to herself.
"Jeez lady, I'm sorry, I didn't mean nothing by it!"
The stranger was almost falling over his feet trying to get away from the table, and avoid Mark at the same time. Mark took a step closer to him and he turned and fled, leaving Harley chuckling in his wake. Mark patted her hand as he resumed his seat.
"Sorry sweetheart. I got waylaid by a fan, which turned into a few fans."
She smiled. "It's okay, Mark - I saw what was happening, and I understood."
"Yeah, but you got hassled by a jackass because of it."
Chuckling, it was her turn to pat his hand. "Ain't the first time I've had to fend off a come on from some jerk. I know a trick or two I picked up over the years on gettin' rid of 'em."
"That infamous dick punch you threatened me with in Vegas?" Mark grinned.
"Only a small part of my repertoire of dirty tricks, chief, trust me," she winked.
"Just so long as you don't intend to use any of 'em on me, sweetheart," he laughed.
From the way her eyes swept over him, he got the distinct impression that she was indeed thinking about her hand coming into contact with his genitals, but in a much different context. Which had his jeans feeling snug again. Definitely not a night to be alone in a hotel room with her. Poker would be much safer.
Mark learned something new about Harley that night. She was one hell of a flirt when she set her mind to it. Apparently, him running off that jackass had put her in the mood to show her appreciation, and boy howdy, wasn't it more fun than a room full of kittens to flirt with her!
Must be those Southern gal genes, he thought, listening to that sweet Southern drawl that just got more pronounced the more flirtatious she was. The little touches on his arm, the way she leaned closer when she did, coincidentally giving him a real nice view of her cleavage through that keyhole in her sweater neckline. And damn those blue eyes - when she looked up at him from under her lashes, he was spellbound.
Not that he was a slouch when it came to flirting, though there was not a power on earth that would make him admit that to anyone. Still, he could do the casual touches that turned to caresses, not to mention using that low voice she seemed to be particularly fond of hearing. And he didn't miss how much she liked all of that. No sir, no mistaking the perky little nipples showing through that pretty sweater.
Then again, anyone who asked him to stand up right at that moment would see the evidence of how much he was enjoying this side of her too. He was beginning to sport a regular diamond cutter. Still, that was kind of fun too.
He leaned over the table, his fingers caressing Harley's hand, then lightly stroking over the delicate skin on the inner surface of her wrist, and murmured, "Mmm, sweetheart, you're doin' it again. Gettin' me all hot and bothered. Can't say I don't love it though."
She gave a soft gasp at his words, and then looked at him from under her lashes, her eyes a deep smoky blue in the darkness of the bar. For a long moment, she said nothing, but then the jukebox in the bar kicked in with a slow song and she gave him a smile that hinted at all kinds of promises.
"Dance with me, Mark."
It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but then she rose to her feet, coming to stand right beside him, her hips swaying as she held out her hands to him.
Now how the hell could he say no to her? But from the way her eyes were sparkling, she knew just why he was hesitating, and she shifted closer to him, her hand caressing his shoulder as she continued to sway her hips. Fine - she wanted to play, he'd play.
He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, his arm going around her waist to pull her against him as he did. Feeling just how much she'd turned him on provoked another little gasp, but she just wound her arms up around his neck and swayed against him, her body brushing against that hard bulge as they moved towards the small dance floor.
Now it was his turn to gasp, as his hands moved to rest on the curve of her hips, leaning down to whisper in her ear as they moved to the music, "You do know that some cultures view slow dancing as almost as intimate as intercourse, right?"
She gave one of those laughs - soft and throaty, it sent shivers down his back and made his dick throb - and whispered back, "So if I start to moan and beg you not to stop, you'll know why."
Sweet Jesus! He pulled her even closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered hoarsely, "You're damn lucky we aren't alone right now, Kate. Because I think I might be on the verge of forgetting all about being a gentleman."
She shivered against him, her fingertips caressing the back of his neck as she moaned, very softly, "I'm not feeling particularly ladylike at the moment either."
The music changed then, to some club dance track, and Harley looked up at Mark as they stopped dancing, biting at her lower lip. "Okay, we've done it again."
Mark couldn't help his laughter - they truly were quite a pair, the way they just kept doing this to one another. To his relief, Harley was laughing with him a moment later, and he was reminded again just how much he liked being with her. Her sense of humour was so like his, and at least they could see the funny side of this rather intensely frustrating part of their relationship.
At least laughing about it was relieving the pressure on the fly of his jeans - it was a little hard to maintain an erection when you were seeing the absurdity of it. He led Harley back to their table and they sat down again, looking at one another with amused expressions. He waved the waitress away when she came to ask if they wanted another round and just asked for the check.
"What time's this poker game supposed to start?" he asked Harley.
She glanced at her watch. "In about half an hour."
He nodded. "So, we pay the check, and wander back to the hotel. Should get us there in plenty of time."
She agreed, and a few minutes later, they stepped out into the street. Harley shivered at the cold and nestled into Mark's side with a chuckle. "You make a damn fine wind break, chief, I gotta say!"
"Wind break?" he grinned. "I'll give you 'wind break', missy!" He grabbed for her ribs and started tickling her, hoping she might have at least one spot that was vulnerable.
She squirmed away from him, but not too hard, giggling as his fingers found a spot on her ribs that was particularly ticklish. He loved how young she looked when she giggled, he thought, as he stopped tickling her and instead pulled her into a hug, pleased when she instantly returned it. They made their way back to the hotel. They parted to drop their coats in their rooms first, and then met up again to go to John's room and see who else was around for the game.
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