Daddy's Love: On His Knees, a wrestling fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: T
Warning(s): Slash, Foursome, Daddy!Kink, Daddy!Hunter, Sub!Seth, Sub!Dean, Sub!Roman, past Domestic Violence, past (light mentions) BDSM, etc.

A/N: It would help to read Daddy's Care: Roman Edition before reading this to understand the context of certain scenes, but not necessary to understand the fic.

He'd warned his ex-wife about the consequences of hurting his boy. He'd trusted her to be smart enough to know that she should keep her hands to herself.

Apparently, he'd expected too much from her.

There was a vacant look on Roman's face as Stephanie's open palm connected with his cheek over... and over... and over again. His cheek was starting to flush bright red, and Stephanie saw this, and damn if it didn't make her hit him harder. And it made his stomach knot so tightly he thought he'd be sick, knowing that Stephanie knew he wouldn't dare hit her back. Not only was she his boss, but she was also a woman.

He'd never hurt a woman.

Roman's entire body was tense, and Hunter could only begin to imagine what was going through his head. He knew part of what his boy had endured before coming to him, knew enough to assume that being humiliated like this, being abused by someone that he couldn't hope to defend himself against, must be absolute torture. And instead of being there with him, for him...

Well, he was stuck in bed because of him. Which, really, in the grand scheme of things, was a consequence of their profession. He knew that it was storyline - and if Roman had gone a bit above and beyond because Hunter had been a particularly shitty Daddy as of late, he probably deserved it. He didn't hold it against him.

That was why he'd specifically told Stephanie that he didn't want her to fire Roman. He certainly hadn't expected her to turn around and call his former father-in-law to do the job for her. It was dirty and underhanded and... now that he thought about it, why hadn't he expected that from her?

He watched as Stephanie stalked off, her promise to deliver Mr. McMahon sending the entire arena in an uproar. For a brief moment, the camera panned back to Roman. He was still standing in the middle of the ring, that same cocky smirk on his face. But Hunter could see through the ruse. He was shaking, ever so slightly. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin, and his cheek was slowly starting to swell. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

If Hunter had been there, he would've been able to read the signs and quickly usher his boy out of the public eye. The false bravado was transparent at best and it wouldn't pay for him to break kayfabe right in the middle of the ring because he couldn't keep a lid on his emotions.

Thankfully, Roman knew himself well enough to read the signs, and he took the opportunity of the impending commercial break to get the hell out of dodge.

"Hey. Hey, now, big guy. Everything's alright." Dean's match was coming up after the break, and he was already waiting in the guerilla. Roman slowly made his way past him, the shaking having gotten significantly worse now that he was out of the public eye.

"Twelve... times..." Roman trailed off, his back hitting the wall as he slowly slid downward, curling in upon himself.

"You want some water?" Dean asked, not expecting an answer and not receiving one. He got a water from the nearby vending machine and unscrewed the cap, pressing it to Roman's lips and encouraging him to drink. "You need to calm down, love. You're gonna work yourself into a panic attack."

"She h-hit me... twelve... times..." Dean had watched it happen, had felt his heart sink lower and lower as Stephanie's hand continued to collide with Roman's cheek. She'd made an ass of herself out there and he hoped she was satisfied with what she'd done.

When Roman had finished half the bottle, Dean replaced the lid and set it aside. "I know. And I know it had to hurt, and that it was hard. But you did so well."

Because he knew, perhaps better than anyone, just how well Roman handled public humiliation... and that was not well at all. It had been Paul's favorite form of punishment for just about any offense. He knew that Roman would never fight back, would silently take whatever he was dealt. He'd exploited the fact that Roman kept his emotions bottled up inside, forcing them deeper and deeper until he couldn't feel at all.

But Dean had seen through the façade, had seen just how hard it was for Roman to take every blow that Paul handed down to him. He'd been there to press the ice to his bruises, to bandage up his cuts, to kiss every one of his scars... And while he wished he could be there for him now, they'd started to play his music.

He took the water and encouraged Roman to drink a bit more, brushing his tousled, sweaty locks away from his clammy face. When he'd finished with the bottle, Dean took it and pressed it to his cheek, hoping that it would help bring the swelling down a bit. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Roman's forehead, not caring who was around to see. Roman needed comfort and he was more than happy to give it to him. Unfortunately, there just wasn't enough time.

Dean rose to his feet, Roman's tired eyes following his every move. "I have to go now, love. But I'll be back as soon as possible, and we'll just relax in the locker room, okay? We'll just kick back and relax till the old man gets here."

Roman's eyes were suddenly filled with fear, "You know how the old geezer feels about us... Don't you remember what he did to Seth?"

Did he remember? How could he forget? Vince McMahon, absolutely detested all three of Hunter's boys. He had no qualms about coming right out and blaming them for Hunter and Stephanie's divorce - because, of course, his own daughter's scheming, conniving, cheating ways couldn't be to blame - so really, there was no telling how poorly this would go.

The music continued to play. Dean sighed. If he waited much longer, Vince would have his head as well. "I really have to go, love. Just sit there and finish your water. In fact," he waved over a stage hand, "can you get him another bottle? And just... make sure that he's okay?"

"I'm fine." Roman muttered softly, taking the bottle off his cheek and taking another sip. His cheek didn't look much better.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Just... don't move. You're still shaky and I don't want you getting hurt."

Roman almost looked offended at that. "I can take care of myself."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm fully aware of that. You can take care of yourself just fine, and take care of us too." He drew his fingers through Roman's hair again. "But sometimes, you need to just accept the fact that other people want to help you, too."

It was then that Dean took his leave, and Roman found himself alone with his thoughts. He finished off the bottle and crushed it in his hand, and when the stage hand returned a few moments later with the water bottle, he finished it off in three swallows. And if he was still shaking... well, nobody mentioned it.

Later That Night

"In fact... I want you to get down on your knees and beg." Vince hissed lowly. "Beg me not to fire your useless ass right here and now. Apologize for incapacitating my son-in-law. Apologize, and beg."

Roman shook his head. Not only did he hold to the fact that he had nothing to apologize for, but there was only one man that Roman Reigns would get down on his knees for - and that man was certainly not Vincent Kennedy McMahon. Vince had already threatened to force him to his knees, to beat him into submission. Even though Roman knew he probably couldn't do it - Roman could easily overpower him, but would he? - the threat was still enough to make him pause.

He'd already been slapped 'into submission' by Stephanie earlier that night. While the old man probably couldn't do any serious damage, Roman got the feeling that he knew he wouldn't have to in order to bring Roman to his knees. After all, scum like the McMahons and Paul Heyman tended to be buddy-buddy.

And then suddenly, Vince was struggling to remove his jacket. It would've almost been funny to see him shaking like a rabbit, considering how arrogantly he'd claimed that Roman would be intimidated in the very presence of "God Almighty", had it not been for the steely cold intent in his eyes. Roman swallowed hard and steeled himself. He resolved to take whatever punishment Mr. McMahon dealt him, without a word of complaint.

Sheamus coming out and deciding to open his big, fat mouth about 'defending the McMahon's Irish coat of arms' and 'how he'd beaten Roman at Survivor Series in five minutes and fifteen seconds', was unexpected. And annoying.

Vince took the opportunity to tease the WWE Universe, before biting out, "You guys fall for that one every time. What the hell makes you think that you've earned it?"

And Roman just wanted to watch the Chairman squirm, because damn if he hadn't been trying to do the same thing to him for the last ten minutes. He snatched the mic from him, and Vince almost had a heart attack. "You keep toting that you have a set of grapefruits... I'm starting to think they're only shriveled up prunes."

Vince narrowed his eyes, body shaking with poorly contained anger. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"Unless you're scared that your big, bad champion can't 'take out the trash' for you?" Roman prodded just a bit harder. "If you want me gone so bad, old man, I'd think you'd be jumping at the opportunity... since obviously, in your current condition, you're in no shape to do it yourself."

He shoved the mic back at Mr. McMahon, who took it with a bit more force than necessary. "Fine! You've got your match! But if you don't become World Heavyweight Champion tonight, you're fired!"

In retrospect, he really should've seen Vince's next move coming. All of a sudden, there was a shooting pain in his groin and he was down, on his knees, exactly where Vince had wanted him from the start. His eyes were blurry from the pain, his hands resting over the throbbing organ, protecting it from further damage. He was so out of it he didn't even notice Vince make his way over to him, stopping just beside him and stooping to whisper in his ear.

"Paul was right, you know. You are much more compliant on your knees." He snickered to himself, as if he'd just made an amazing joke and only he was privy to the punch line. "I like you much better this way. Maybe I'll find a way to get my boy to keep you there."

Roman swallowed hard. It took several minutes for him to process Vince's words. And once the Chairman was out of the ring, he slowly climbed back to his feet. He was ashamed to admit that he'd never realized he'd fallen.

Dean placed a bag of ice on Roman's groin, flinching a bit as the big guy let out a low groan at it's sudden weight and icy temperature. "Hey, just think on the bright side. With how much pain you're in, you won't have to worry about any jabs about shrinkage for awhile."

"Because that makes me feel so much better." Roman rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but replay Vince's words from earlier over and over in his mind.

"The old geezer had no right to say those things to you." Dean continued, his tone becoming much darker. "He knows not to bring up that name."

At that, Roman looked almost worried. "Daddy told him?"

Dean shrugged, suddenly looking a bit sheepish, like he'd just revealed a big secret that he'd sworn not to tell. "Not exactly. You know that he would never betray us like that. He just said that some things had happened and he didn't want Paul roaming the arena without supervision. Just in case."

It should've made him feel better, but it just made him feel worse. Hunter was just looking out for them. He wanted to make sure that nobody hurt them ever again, especially when he wasn't there to ensure their safety. But Vince had just taken that information that Hunter had given him in confidence and used it to hurt Roman. His words had been like a knife to the gut and he didn't think it was possible to feel lower.

He could remember one particular incident, where Paul had blindfolded him and handcuffed him to the footboard of their bed. He'd forced Roman onto his knees and taken a belt to his back, making him count each and every blow. Like Vince had done earlier, he'd promised to beat him into submission. Roman had come to hate himself a little bit more every time that he caved, and had silently promised himself each time he'd never get on his knees for him again.

Needless to say, they'd been empty promises. Paul was a sadistic bastard, and he knew exactly what to say to make Roman cave. His favorite threats would be bodily harm to Dean, or finally putting Seth out once and for all. The one time Roman hadn't caved, Paul had kicked Seth out in the middle of a snow storm and had the locks changed. Roman couldn't risk Paul making good on another one of his threats... so he did whatever he was told, even if it was to get on his knees.

"Would it make you feel better to talk to Daddy?" Dean asked softly. He doubted that Roman would agree, especially after what he'd just told him, but he offered anyhow. He watched as Roman shifted slightly, groaning as he had to readjust his ice pack.

"Nothing is going to make this any better." Roman said darkly, eyes slipping closed. He was shaking again, and Dean slowly drew his fingers through Roman's loose curls. "I just want to get this over with and go home."

Dean frowned. "Daddy wouldn't want you to push yourself. Even if you lose this match, he'll just rehire you."

Roman shook his head. "You know that he can't go against Vince's decisions. If he fires me, I'm fired. End of story."

Dean handed him another bottle of water. He was ashamed to say that he really didn't know how to calm Roman down, because he'd never had to before. Roman had always been the one to stand by them, to hold their hand and to promise that everything was going to be okay. Dean knew that he probably wouldn't be too happy about Dean trying to hold his hand, so he settled for running his fingers though his curls instead.

"I just can't lose. That's all there is to it." Roman said, slowly blinking his eyes open. "Tonight, I will become the new World Heavyweight Champion."

"You'll make Daddy so proud." Dean said, grinning wide. "Especially if you piss off the old geezer and the harpy bitch, too. You know how Daddy and Stephanie have been butting heads lately."

"Harpy bitch?" The shaking had eased a bit, and if Dean wasn't mistaken, he would've thought that Roman was almost smiling.

Dean nodded. "Harpy bitch. Seth came up with that one. I think it's rather fitting."

Roman would've laughed, under any other circumstances. But not today. Instead, he pulled Dean around to the other side of the couch and made room for the Lunatic Fringe to climb in behind him. Once he was situated, legs crossed underneath him, Roman rested his head on Dean's lap and closed his eyes. And that silent gesture of trust had Dean smiling even brighter, gently rubbing Roman's shoulders and willing him into a deeper state of relaxation.

Finally. Finally, after the hell that he'd endured today, with everything that he'd been through, he was finally back home.

He stood in the doorway, looking in at the bedroom that he'd been longing for all night. Hunter and Seth were already in bed, Seth curled into their Daddy's side and Hunter's arm protectively strewn over Seth's middle. For a brief moment, he wondered if they'd watched Monday Night RAW and seen everything that had transpired. Somehow, without asking, he knew that they had.

Instead of climbing up into bed with them, he knelt down beside Hunter's side of the bed, resting his head just beside Hunter's motionless hand. He could hear the way that Hunter was struggling with each breath, a consequence of the beat-down he'd administered the day before. Not for the first time, he felt overcome with a sudden, gut-wrenching wave of guilt. Even if it was storyline, he never should've let his true emotions get so far out of check.

It was low and petty and, honestly, he felt that he did deserve to be fired for what he'd done. He'd been just as shocked as everyone else when Stephanie had claimed that she wasn't going to fire him because Hunter had asked her not too.

As if reading his mind, Hunter whispered, "Because I can't stand the thought of losing you. You three are my precious boys. That doesn't change because one of you throws a little tantrum."

Roman frowned, "Little tantrum? You're incapacitated indefinitely because I... I..."

"You broke." Hunter said easily. "You broke, because I've been pushing you far too hard, for far too long. I'm not gonna come out and say that I hope you do it again, because next time it gets to that point I hope you say something. I hope you have come to trust me enough to tell me when I do something to upset you."

"I'm..." Roman fisted the sheets so tightly, he actually tore them. "I'm... s-sorry..."

"You have no reason to be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing to you. I specifically told them not to hurt you, and look what happened..."

Hunter slowly reached up and stroked Roman's throbbing cheek, and Roman was suddenly reminded of Stephanie's twelve slaps from earlier, each one seeming more forceful than the last. Still, he couldn't help but lean into the touch of Hunter's hand, as if his touch had the power to erase all of the pain he'd endured. With a grunt, and probably more effort than he would've liked, he rolled over and cupped Roman's face in his hands.

Hunter looked into Roman's pained eyes, "This isn't your fault. When I saw Stephanie put her hands on you, you don't know how hard it was for me not to catch the first flight to PA and tear her apart. She's an abusive, conniving bitch. But the fact that you didn't stoop to her level... do you know how proud I am of you?"

"There's nothing to be proud of." Roman said softly, brokenly.

But Hunter insisted, "There's everything to be proud of."

Hunter slid over a bit, causing Seth to stir ever so slightly. But the two-toned man merely yawned, rolled over to make more room, and fell even deeper into sleep. Hunter carefully urged Roman to climb up onto the bed beside him, and after some not-so-gentle prodding, managed to get him up off of his knees. Taking the hint, Roman slid into bed beside his Daddy, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of Hunter gently running his hands up and down Roman's back.

He kissed Roman's forehead softly, but firmly. "You're my prideful, strong-willed, perfect boy. And I love you so, so much." The honesty in his words cut Roman open in a way he'd never before imagined, and it hurt so good. "And that's why I never want to see you on your knees again. Not even for me."

"Daddy..." Roman trailed, not really knowing what to say.

Hunter shrugged, or, at least, did his best with his limited mobility. "Your pride is a part of you. I knew that, and I continued to challenge it anyway. That was me being a shitty Daddy, and each blow you landed was like a wake-up call for me to be better. Because you three deserve only the best, and I'd been failing you."

Hunter took the World Heavyweight Title, which Roman had set at the foot of the bed, and carefully draped it over his boy. "Do you know how proud you made me tonight? You stood your own against the old man without my help. And even if you hadn't of won, I still would be so proud of you..."

"Daddy... I..." but Hunter could see how much his words were affecting Roman, how much he needed to hear them and was just scared to admit it.

"I wish that I could do more to comfort you right now." Hunter continued softly. "Unfortunately, I can barely move and you're not looking too good yourself. Plus, Seth can be a real nightmare when he wakes up. So I hope it's okay if, for now, I just hold you."

Roman, initially, looked a little uneasy at the suggestion. He was the big man, the Roman Empire - he didn't need - or particularly like - to be cuddled. But right now, Hunter's arms seemed warm and inviting and, most importantly, forgiving. And that, in the end, was what caused him to swallow down the nagging little thoughts about pride and his own internal angst, and leisurely cuddle into Hunter's waiting arms.

"Alright." He said finally, softly. "But just for tonight."