He hated being cold. He really, really fucking hated it. But he was also really fucking cheap.
Dean Ambrose owned but one thermal long-sleeve shirt, and by the time he started wearing it at the beginning of autumn, it was already fraying at the seams. Even layered with an undershirt and a thick hoodie over it, he was still shivering and swearing under his steaming breath as he walked along the city streets.
He'd been chilled to the bone for the entire end of the week, barely able to drag himself from the warmth of his bed in order to get to work or the gym. But this Friday, rather than slink back into his apartment to hide from the cold, he was headed out to the bar just after clocking out. His coworker had invited him, insisting that his recent grumpy demeanor could be fixed by a wild night out of the house.
Dean wasn't exactly looking forward to the journey he'd have to take in order to get there, but he definitely couldn't argue with warm company and an even warmer Irish coffee. It beat shivering under a blanket in front of the TV, anyway.
What frustrated him the most was that the weather didn't even have the decency to snow quite yet. It was still late autumn, and thus the cloud cover was minimal, leaving the city without even a modicum of insulation. So as he stomped across the sidewalk, teeth chattering, there was nothing but his clothes between him and the harsh cold of the oncoming season.
When he finally reached the bar, the interior was only moderately warmer than it was outside. Dean shook his head at this, but held out hope that a hot drink would help him out. It wasn't even a moment after this thought that he spotted his friend waving him over from a booth in the corner.
Most of the patrons were still in most of their winter gear, but Antonio Cesaro – the bastard – was wearing a way too tight button-down shirt and slacks with no sign he'd even brought anything more than a suit jacket to go over it once he was outside.
"You motherfucker," Dean cackled as he walked over to clap him on the shoulder. "How the fuck can you stand the cold like that?" He sat down at the booth and waved over a waitress to make his order.
Antonio grinned, mainly with his eyes, and quipped, "Well, having spent my childhood hauling sheep through ten inches of snow, it's become easy to shrug off."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, bet it gets cold up in fuckin' Sweden or whatever."
"I'm sure it does," he heard Antonio mumble as he asked for an Irish coffee, as hot as they could possibly make it. Antonio, by contrast, ordered a glass of red wine.
They watched the woman walk off, and Dean's attention was suddenly snatched away by a presence standing next to the bar. It was a man, actually, but for some reason the word "presence" was what popped into Dean's head at the sight of him.
He was pretty, for sure. Skin light brown and glowing with vitality. An impish smirk that showed just the hint of a gap in his front teeth, surrounded with a handsome scruff. Eyes large, dark, but brimming with warmth. And his hair, shining black in the low light of the bar, with just a small blond patch near the edge on one side. He was dressed in skinny jeans and the sweatshirt with the name of probably some band Dean had never heard of, as well as a pair of leather gloves, likely to keep them from the cold. And he had thick-rimmed, square glasses on that made him look like some kind of hipster fuckboy that Dean shouldn't have found as attractive as he did.
Aside from all of that, which still made his heart skip a beat, there was something that drew Dean's eyes to him like a powerful magnet. It was nothing he was able to describe, not even in his own mind. There was an aura about this man, an invisible glow that surrounded him. One that was present also in his shorter companion, but... it was so much stronger in the taller one.
He felt like gravity was pulling him towards the bar, towards this gorgeous being that was wholly unaware of how blatantly he was staring at him.
Well. For a moment.
The man turned suddenly, but calmly, as if he were expecting Dean's gaze. And he smiled.
Dean felt his stomach drop as he looked down at the table, using the excuse of grabbing his wallet from his back pocket for the waitress, who'd just reappeared with their drinks. But the stranger wasn't the only one who noticed he was staring.
"Like something you see over there?" Cesaro asked him with a knowing grin. "Or someone, rather?"
He cleared his throat and glared at him as he tossed the waitress the required cash. "What's it to ya, Toni? Just... damn, can't stare off into space without gettin' the third degree."
"I'd believe you if you weren't currently picking your jaw up from the table." Cesaro sipped his wine and nodded towards the stranger in question. "You should go talk to him."
"Th'fuck I should..." Dean mumbled, having given up. Cesaro knew him too well, there was no hiding it. "He's... like... look at 'im. Outta my league. Way outta my league."
Cesaro nudged his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short. You've picked up plenty of people from bars before. You come out with a new person more often than not. Why not him?"
"There's... just somethin' about him. Somethin' like... an aura, yanno? Like he's some kinda magical being or something stupid like that."
"Beauty and the Beast, is it?" Cesaro snickered and stood up. "If you aren't going to go talk to him, I can do it for you..."
"NOPE." Dean shot up from his seat and started stomping over to the bar before he could stop himself. He was attracted to this stranger, sure, and he definitely wanted to go over and talk to him. But just the implication that someone would have to do anything for him – he couldn't stand for it.
Which is probably what Cesaro was planning on, anyway. The crafty fucker.
No going back, though. Dean felt his eyes on him even as he gazed at the floor on his way there. He even heard the conversation between the two strangers pause as he made his final approach. A snicker and a comment about having company from the smaller of the two, who Dean noticed was wearing eyeliner and dressed like he fell into a thrift store's dumpster. Geez, he was pretty, too, now that he got a good look at him, but that wasn't his main concern.
That would be the handsomely bespectacled man currently smiling at him as Dean finally built up the courage to look him in the eye.
An inexplicable warmth suddenly sunk into him as he locked eyes with the stranger. In just a moment, the bones that ached with the chill were relaxed and comfortable, his muscles untying themselves from the usual knots, and the pit of his stomach tensing in the best sort of way.
And... did he see the brown in his eyes flash red for a moment?
Nah. Must have imagined it. That whole "magical being" thing was just a stupid joke.
Dean shook it off and held his hand out. "Hey, name's Dean. How are ya?"
The stranger glanced down at his hand, then back up into Dean's eyes. A half-grin spread back across his lips as he took his hand and shook it. As they touched, a nigh-intangible electricity traveled up Dean's arm, so subtle that he was barely able to process it before the stranger began speaking.
"Seth," he answered with just the hint of a lisp, his timbre coming straight from his prominent nose. "I'm doing well... now. You?"
Oh, so that's how it was going to go. Dean smiled back at him, still baffled by the odd feelings he was experiencing, but not necessarily disliking them. "Can't complain," he replied.
Before the conversation could go any further, Seth's companion seemed to catch a hint that hadn't been made and took his leave, moving on to another section of the bar.
Now left alone, the two got to know each other. Dean spoke of his work at the animal shelter, learned that Seth was fucking giddy about dogs, that he was a travel writer who was visiting his friend Jimmy at the moment, that he had the dorkiest goddamn laugh he'd ever heard. All told, he seemed like a completely normal guy.
Yet Dean still couldn't shake the feeling that something about him was unusual. The fact that he was so uncontrollably drawn to him, the number of completely new sensations being added to his muscle memory, it nagged at the back of his mind. But from the way this conversation was going, he wasn't about to let it stop him.
Every small touch or look or sound from Seth was riling him up, pleasantly stimulating all possible senses. And all they were doing was talking.
It was no wonder he ended up taking him home.
Dean's head was spinning as he locked the front door behind him, watching Seth step into his living room and slip his shoes off. It occurred to him, then, for some reason, that they never actually made contact, skin to skin yet. Yet from just their interactions he was dizzily excited, warm in a way he'd never felt before.
He'd been warm even during the walk back to his apartment.
He didn't have time to ask himself how that could have been. Seth turned to him, slipping his leather gloves off. Dean found himself at a loss for words as Seth approached, a grin on his face that scared and aroused him in equal measure.
"You came to me," Seth rumbled low in his chest, reaching up to slowly unzip Dean's hoodie. "It was really attractive, actually. I like people who know what they want when they see it."
"Oh yeah?" Dean smirked through his hesitation and pulled off his sweatshirt when it was fully unzipped, letting it fall to the floor. "Well I like people who are real fuckin' pretty. And goddamn, are you pretty." He proceeded then to pull off his thermal, leaving him in his jeans and undershirt, and reached for Seth's sweatshirt zipper.
It was then that Seth gently laid a hand on Dean's bare shoulder, their skin touching for the first time. And suddenly he felt his entire body shiver with lust at just the touch of his fingers on his arm. He took in a breath and let it flow through him, and suddenly he was ripping off Seth's sweatshirt, dropping it to the floor and then dropping himself to his knees.
He was rather overcome with his desire. This is precisely what he wanted, but he was starting to act before he could even think about anything first. Dean could scarcely feel himself breathing as he clawed at the fastenings of Seth's jeans. The sound of his breathing was muffled and echoing, like he was underwater.
But everything Seth said rang completely clear.
"Well, well, look who's eager to please..." His tone was amused. Not derisive, more like he was delighted at the turn of events.
He was. So eager, so excited, so ready for whatever was to happen. And his words were tumbling out before he even thought them. "Wanna fuck you so bad," Dean groaned, "I'm so fuckin' hot for ya, I need you, I need your dick right fuckin' now."
Seth's dick was out, then, rock-hard and twitching happily in front of his face. Dean was so hungry for it, as if he'd starve if he didn't put his mouth on it right fucking now. And the moment his tongue made contact, he felt suddenly like he was sinking into a warm bath. Every bit of his skin shuddered, seemingly inch by inch. His blood coursed through him thick and hot and buzzing with energy.
Who the fuck was this guy? Or... what?
"Oh, you're good with your tongue," he heard Seth groan. "That's good, but... maybe I can do a little something for you, first? If that's all right with you."
"Yeah, okay," Dean said breathlessly. He didn't care what it was they'd be doing, as long as he was touching him. His entire body was flushed with patches of pink, his cheeks burning, his eyes glazing over with desire. His own cock was straining the denim of his pants, so hard it almost hurt. At Seth's suggestion, he stood and stumbled over to the couch, unzipping his own jeans automatically.
Seth was on him before he could even get his pants off, but it hardly mattered. The vibration that jolted through his wrists as Seth moved them away and pulled down his jeans for him made up for it. His boxers soon went with them. His thick cock was resting against his stomach, sticky with far more precum than he was used to generating.
And as the shining fluid caught Seth's gaze, Dean saw it again. A flash of color in his eyes, crimson and gold at the exact same time, somehow.
"Your eyes," he found himself mumbling, trance-like and quiet. They were strange, right? It wasn't normal that they changed color all of a sudden. But he didn't care. He couldn't care. "They're beautiful." He would have to settle on that. There wasn't anything else he really could do at that point, not when Seth was looking at him with such hunger.
Seth smiled softly at him and whispered, "Thank you, Dean. Lemme pay you back for being so nice, hm?"
He leaned down and let his tongue run over the droplets on Dean's stomach, holding his cock aloft with a gentle hand. He was barely even touching his dick, and yet he felt like his tongue against his skin was building him towards orgasm already.
And then Seth sucked him into his mouth.
"Fuck," Dean gasped into the air. His bones were thrumming, then, with heat and pleasure and an indescribable ecstasy. There wasn't a single molecule in his body that didn't feel fucking fantastic. All from just the beginning of a blowjob, just from Seth gently rolling the head of his cock against his tongue.
"Mm," Seth moaned as he drew his tongue underneath the ridge, looking straight into his eyes and making him even more dizzy at the sight of it. "So easy," he chuckled. "So easy, I wouldn't even have to touch you to make you cum, Dean. Wouldn't even have to fuck you to make you scream... But I want to."
It was in his head, then. Fucking Seth. It was all he could stand to think about, it consumed his very being.
"Fuck me," Dean begged up at him. It was not in his usual nature to plead, with anyone. He was used to taking control. But his whole body ached for it and there was only one way to get it. "Please, Seth, I need it, I need you to fuck me, I need you." He felt himself drooling a little, but it didn't make him stop talking for even a moment. "I can't fucking wait any longer, please, I need your cock and I need your mouth on me and-"
And when the fuck did he get inside him?
An incomprehensible noise bubbled up from his stomach, feeling like his breath was steaming from his lips. He swore he saw it mist into the air for a split second. But he could barely see at that moment. There were stars behind his eyes, just from being filled with Seth's hot and pulsing cock. But it wasn't enough. It was so good but it wasn't near enough.
Dean realized he was holding his breath. The air felt thin and liquid and burning, he couldn't get a proper breath from it. His head was swimming and his vision swirling and his whole body clawing for breath that he could only get one way.
"Please," he all but sobbed. It was all he could manage to say. But it was all that he needed to – the context was very clear.
Seth grinned, and Dean watched his form shiver in his vision as he leaned down to kiss him. The contact filled his lungs with breath, tightened the pit of his gut, made his cock twitch. And then he began moving.
Dean wasn't sure of the volume or pitch of sound he was making, for he couldn't hear a thing but for Seth's heartbeat thumping in time with his. Each muscle in his body tensed and his limbs locked up in an embrace with Seth, his toes curling and squirming against the couch. The entire time Seth was inside him, pumping steady and adoring, he felt like he was coming continuously. Like each thrust inside him forced his cock to begin yet another peak.
But it wasn't the end. Not until Seth grabbed Dean's cock and moaned into his ear, just once, so quick he barely was able to remember what it sounded like.
Dean's entire body began vibrating, humming with ecstasy, shaking uncontrollably. So warm, so fucking warm and goddamn amazing. He vaguely felt his cock start twitching for real this time, didn't really notice that he was streaming cum all over his shirt, so much, so fucking sticky and warm and wet on his stomach.
And he was still warm as Seth drew away from him, pulled himself out. Just breathing in warmth and joy and exhaling his satisfaction. His eyes were shut, but he felt a shift in the air above him. His warmth flowing from his entire body and concentrating in a single spot above him.
He opened his eyes to see Seth licking his lips, looking fully satiated. The glow in his eyes was obvious now, burning red-gold like they were molten and flowing in a circle about his pitch black pupils.
Dean almost asked. But his consciousness was fading fast. He was sinking into sleep before he could say anything. He just barely perceived his damp undershirt being pulled over his head, a blanket being laid over him, Seth quipping that they should do this again sometime.
He woke up in the morning still plastered against the couch, skin smoldering warm under the blanket despite the chill outside. Dean was throbbing hard, and it took only a few hard strokes of his hand before he was gasping into his other hand and twitching out an intense orgasm onto his belly.
"The fuck was that...?" he asked himself as he sat up, suddenly remembering the events of the previous evening. So much he didn't understand, so little he was able to explain to himself.
He spotted a note on his coffee table before he could ask anything else. It was written on a bar napkin, in red ink.
A phone number, a small cartoon portrait of a smiling horned devil, and the name "Seth Rollins".
Dean smiled and sunk back onto the couch. He would never have to be cold again.