The Rock Hard Wrestling tag-team match pitting former homoerotic wrestler of the month Jake Jenkins and his frequent friend and foe, Austin Cooper against twink scrappers Cliff Johnson and Nick Collins has been up for a while. However, my pennies have been diverted elsewhere, so it’s only now that I’ve had an opportunity to dip the ladle back in the gamey elixir of Rock Hard Wrestling’s unique talents at filming hard, devastatingly handsome hunks laying down some pro-style maneuvers.

Like the past several RHW matches I’ve watched, I’m giving this tag-team bout a thumbs up. There’s a glaringly weakest link in this mash up that you can’t miss. What the hell was little Nicky Collins thinking climbing into the ring against the experience and outrageously gorgeous muscle physiques of Jake and Coop!? Cliff, while still seeming to me to qualify for twinkdom, has a nasty attitude of a heel to make his slender form seem somehow that much more potently dangerous. Cliff is a cocky son of a bitch. He’s mean. He’d like nothing better than to dominate and humiliate a couple of fitness model pretty boys who think that a competitive amateur wrestling resume can translate into the professional wrestling ring. I get Cliff’s motivation. Little Nicky, however? He’s nervous. You’ll see what I mean. No doubt, he’s got a poker face, but he’s got tells you can see a mile away. When he’s leaning across the top rope, taking a breather while Cliff is getting tossed, slammed, pummeled and crushed inside the ring, I swear you can see it written on little Nicky’s face: damn, glad that’s not me. As a lamb led to slaughter, little Nicky Collins is perfectly on cue.

Jake Jenkins continues to captivate me. Perhaps the homoerotic wrestling world might be divisible into Jake-fans and Coop-fans. It seems to me that I see devotees of each who don’t seem nearly as interested in the other. If the world were that simple to dichotomize, I’d be squarely on the Jake Jenkins side of the fence. The face, the body, his adrenaline on turbo boost, his ass… in this tag-team match, Jake also reminds me of another reason that I’m so turned on by him: that mouth.

The action in this match is well-paced. The boys use about 80% of the ring, and there’s a healthy mix of amateur and pro wrestling moves as they inhabit territory in mid-air, on their feet, and down to the mat. Within the first 5 seconds, Jake and Coop are cheating, with Coop pounding Cliff into the unfriendly corner where Jake locks him up from the ring apron to leave him defenseless against his partner’s assault.  As often happens in RHW action, the tables turn on a dime (sometimes leaving me feeling a little whiplashed, in fact), and Cliff illustrates his hottest move: with one arm wrapped around Austin’s throat from behind and the other controlling Austin’s left arm behind his back, Cliff drops to one knee, driving Austin’s lower back squarely down on top of Cliff’s bent knee (when he pulls this off on Jake late in the match, you can see why it’s even more devastating on a shorter opponent!). It’s a sweet move that looks like it really hurts, and Cliff repeats it often. The golden boy looks like he’s got nothing to counter it, in fact, which inspires Jake, watching on with concern, to bark encouragement from the corner. “Come on Coop! Don’t  take that shit from him. Make him sniff your ass!”

The greatest tragedy of this match is that when all is said and done, the boys-wonder have neglected to follow through and make Cliff sniff Austin’s ass. However, there’s plenty of storytelling still to come. Each time one man gets the upper hand and exploits his advantage to the point of cocky arrogance, it comes back to bite him in the ass. With Coop’s number on speed dial, Cliff delights in hurting the big blond beauty. For his troubles, as soon as Jake tags in, he scoops Cliff up in his arms, lunges backward and flings the lean and mean one over his head, slamming him to his back.  As payback for Jake taking some extra liberties rubbing in the domination over Cliff, little Nicky (inexplicably) exhausts and schoolboy pins Jake, pounding his pecs for days. Now, my armchair assessment is that Jake could eat Nicky for afternoon tea and still have room for a porterhouse steak. However, the sound of panic rising in Jake’s voice as he cries for some underhanded interference from the ring apron makes me swoon just a little. “Get him off me!” Jake pleads/demands of Coop. “You’re close! Get him off me!”

With the badboy interference from outside the ropes pushing the reset button, little Nicky suddenly has a giant target painted on his ass. Jake controls the nervous one with exquisitely commanding strength and focus. Folding up Nicky’s legs and prying them upward in a nasty-looking backbreaker, Jake revels in the sight of the twink pounding his fists into the mat helplessly. “Eat the mat!” Jake chuckles as he shoves little Nicky’s face downward with his right forearm. A few seconds later, he’s tossed Nicky to his back, rolled him up with Nicky’s ass pointed at the ceiling, and pinned his shoulders to the mat for a leisurely three count pinfall with Cliff looking on from the ring apron in disgust.  “That’s how you do it in Jake Jenkin’s house!” Jake declares.

The start of round 2 finds wiry Nicky slipping behind Jake and wrapping a sloppy choke across the muscle stud’s throat. The look on J’s face is priceless (10:13), as he smirks at Coop and rolls his eyes in contempt for the twink backback he’s got on. A second later, he bends forward, sending unprepared Nicky head over heels and slamming to his back with a gasp.  As I said, little Nicky is the weakest link by far, both in selling and in keeping pace with quality wrestling of the other three. His primary arsenal is that schoolboy pin and flurry of fists to Jake’s pecs that he comes back to a couple times more. He takes some nice punishment, especially from Jake, and 7 times out of 10, he sells some satisfying suffering. But the pec punching offense wears a bit thin, and the boys-wonder thankfully make him pay for his lack of creativity.

The other three relative veterans dial up the storytelling, pretty much redeeming little Nicky’s performance as far as I’m concerned. While it’s primarily little Nicky punching Jake, Cliff gets in some gratuitous shots as well. When Coop tags in, he’s determined to even the score and defend his partner’s honor (now that’s sexy!). “You going to hit my guy like that!?” Coop shouts down into Cliff’s face, tit-for-tat schoolboy pinning the lean wrestler and delivering a barrage of retributive pec punches. Cliff is nearly pounded a couple of inches into the mat beneath Coop’s big, beautiful body and jabbing fists. “Yah!” Coop crows, climbing off his dazed opponent. “You aint hittin’ nobody now!

With little Nicky in his corner leaving the storytelling to more expert hands, Cliff battles his way back to his feet and drops big Coop with some choice strikes. “You slap me like a bitch, huh?” he growls furiously.

“You are a bitch!” Coop shouts from one knee, letting his mouth keep writing checks even while Cliff is cashing in on a growingly arrogant beatdown.

But it’s Jake’s mouth that works me hardest, as he jumps into the battle of words from his position in the corner, waiting to enter the fray. “Don’t let that flat chested bitch beat you!” he shouts encouragingly to Coop.

While this match is not seamless, and there are several moments when the boys have to remind one another where the story arc is taking them next, the final 45 seconds are beautifully executed and majorly hot. The muscle stud victors finally start firing on all cylinders, and with all 4 men in the ring at once, Jake and Coop deliver side-by-side, simultaneous offenses like synchronized swimmers.  With little Nicky draped across Jake’s huge shoulders like a mink stole, and bitter-in-defeat Cliff screaming in pain racked across Coop’s sculpted body, my anti-heroes delight in humiliating the outmatched, outmuscled team and, they absolutely pulse with testosterone as they flex and taunt overtop of the battered losers. Hot, hot story, boys!