Title: Pet

Author: Belah

Rating: NC-17 for language, sexual and violent content.

Warnings: Implied D/s with Knife/blood play

Summary: Roman and Dean have a bond, one beyond friendship, beyond brothers. It's a delicate balance, an intimate role, each needs something that only the other can offer.

Note: Please forgive my fic-rust... It's been forever since I've written anything and I wrote this by request. It's just a quick one shot, and perhaps I will go back and add onto it later.

Also, I chose to write this fiction based on the In-Ring personas, not on the men who portray them.

"Fuck..." He growled low and deep as his brows furrowed together, eyes focused on the other's hands. He watched them move slowly down his chest, letting the cool steel tease over his skin before a quick flick of his wrist drew a sharp breath and first blood.

"Now that's pretty, Pet." Roman let the corner of his mouth turn in a smirk, tongue peeking just past his lips as he lifted his gaze. "Don't you think?"

Before he was able to respond, Roman's lips found the broken skin, his tongue and teeth toying at the wound, sending delicious stings of pain radiating through his body.

"Dean, Pet, I asked you a question," he purred softly. "I expect an answer."

Drawing a trembling breath, he wet his lips and looked up to Roman's face. "Good for you..." He managed with a smirk.

His brows furrowed, gaze narrowing. "Wrong answer."

Before he could quip back, Dean felt the sharp burn of steel across his hip. The skin splitting as his blood trailed hot and red down the tight flesh, seeping into the sheets beneath.

"Yes!" The response a sharp hiss of a breath, barely audible over pounding of blood in his ears.

His pleasure was evident in the wide smile, the glint in his eyes. "Much better, Pet. Now where were we?" he asked idly, his fingertips pressing into the split flesh, forcing the skin open further, probing the hot, wet flesh exposed to him.

I watched the wheels turning in his head, could see the thoughts in his eyes as he focused his gaze on me.

"I don't know Princess, you tell me." The snark of his reply was nothing less than expected, earning him a sharp slap on the hip. "Oh? Gonna spank me now, daddy?"

The fuck...

Before I could process my actions, I found him pinned beneath me, his hands secured above his head in one of mine as I used my full weight to hold his hips to the mattress. Our mouths met in what seemed more a battle than a kiss, with teeth and force.

Dean's enjoyment was more than evident, his cock hard and straining against the tight denim, firmly pressed against me. Like this, with him beneath me, a mass of need and desire, it was hard to focus, to remember my purpose.

Brat. The word echoed in my head, drawing my focus stirring my control. I pulled back suddenly, tearing what could only be called a whimper from Dean's lips. His beautifully kiss swollen lips. With brows furrowed I let my voice drop low, near growling. "You're going to pay for that little stunt, Pet."

The color drained from his face momentarily, before flushing bright again, his cock pulsing between our bodies.

I drew my body back upright, still sitting at his thighs, pinning his lower body. "I suggest you stay just like this," was his only warning as I relinquished the grip held on his wrists.

He wanted to disobey, considered it, I could see the flash if mischief in the blue of his eyes but he didn't. He remained still, body trembling with the effort it took.

"Good, Pet." A reward, simple but efficient as some of the tension in his body eased, his muscles slightly less coiled.

With a crooked smile, I retrieved the blade I'd somehow discarded a short time before and let my eyes trail over the man beneath me. I drank in the sight of him, toned flesh, tousled blond hair, let my eyes fill with the promise of every strike, every cut, every touch that was to come.

My vision swam, the sheets a blur with bursts of black as my body collapsed forward. My arms and legs trembled and gave, my body crumpling onto the satin, trapped beneath the warm weight of Roman.

"My beautiful, Pet," he purred soft and low in my ear, letting his fingers stoke down my back, stopping occasionally to tease a the various bruises and cuts he'd marked into my flesh. The sharp burn, the throbbing ache, pulsed through me, reminding me of who owned me.

I wanted to hate it, wanted to lash out and defy the knowledge but I didn't. I couldn't. He owned me, body and soul and he knew it. He found a way to tame the animal inside of me, gave me a place to belong. He saw who I was, what I was, and loved me not in spite of it, but because of it.

My mind began to drift, not able to truly focus. I was vaguely aware of his rough, calloused fingers on my skin, caressing me. The rich, thick tone of his voice filled my ears, whispering praise and love.

Mine.

That was all I needed to know, all that mattered as sleep started to creep over me, pulling me down. I belonged, to him, with him... And he was mine.