Dean waits for Roman all through his suspension despite everyone throwing themselves at his feet. When Roman does return it still takes them days to find one another and by that time Roman is done playing games. He wants his boy.
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tumblr and their prompts and thoughts tbh. .
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If it wasn't for the sweet scent of coconut oil, just a hint, that accompanied the push to his back Dean would have lashed out at whoever follows him into his hotel room. But he ican /i smell it, and he is smiling as he boots his bag across the floor and hears the clatter of the gold belt on the floor. Roman has been back for agonising days where Dean has been followed by this person and that and there was just no time to slip past anyone. A half laugh escapes his lips as the door closes shut behind him and Roman's large and powerful fingers splay across his stomach and the heat of his chest presses to Dean's back.
"Bout fuckin time." Roman snarls as he continues to push Dean across the room before shoving him unceremoniously onto the mattress.
"You know where I've been." Dean states.
"I know where everyone else has been. Sniffin around what's mine just cause I weren't here."
"And whose fault was that?" Dean demands, as Roman clambers over him and straddles Dean across the breadth of the bed.
"I didn't think...it wasn't...they told me I could...shut up." Roman presses his lips to Dean's and for a moment Dean wants to shove him away. The beard is sexy, oh fuck it is, but it tickles and itches and Dean needs a moment to settle.
Dean sighs into the mattress as Roman pulls away and paws at his feet and shoves his sneakers to the floor. He rolls over and begins to get rid of the rest of his clothes while pondering the tone in Roman's voice. They both know he made a mistake and they also both knew he could have done a lot worse when it comes down to it. Put their histories beside one another and Roman has the cleaner record by far so Dean can't really comment on it must more than to defend him in the ring and be pissed because he has missed him. Not that he will full out state that because, fuck no.
His jeans are hurtled somewhere to his left as he sends them flying mid-roll towards his gear in search of lube and rubbers. He winces as he hears the dull thuds of his change hitting off the walls and hitting the carpet. In years gone by that would have woken the dude in the room next door but they can actually afford good hotels now with more than supporting beams and wallpaper pinning rooms apart.
"Why you so fucking messy man? Gotta clean that shit up tomorrow." Roman huffs and Dean feels something tug inside because that is so them. Dean makes a mess. Roman cleans it. Dean buys food to make up for it. Roman takes control of the radio for the first driving stint.
"Stop pretending you give a shit. And I'm messy? Dude you're dripping in that damn hair tree shit." Dean drawls as he crawls back onto the bed with help in hand, pausing on the need to smash their lips together one more time and tug hard on Roman's dick.. His own hardening dick feels heavy against his stomach and his shoulders are high with a tension he wishes he could force back. It has been a month though and he hasn't touched himself down there since Roman was suspended. Didn't feel right.
Rumbling sounds tell him Roman is responding but Dean hears none of it. He is far more focussed on the way Roman bodily forces him up the bed and pushes him down by his chest in a way that makes him bounce off the pillows. For a moment they stop. Grey eyes meet blue. Roman softens for a second, and then it is gone. Not what they need. Not now. A slight tilt of the head and Dean rolls onto his stomach and reaches up for a pillow. His hands meet Roman's and he whimpers a little as Roman presses up against him, kisses the shoulder that never stops aching, and helps force a pillow under his hips.
This is far from their first fuck but Dean likes the give in the cotton when he's being fucked, isn't so much of a fan of hard friction. Not with Roman anyway.
He can't make out the words but the sound of Roman's voice is relaxing anyway. It is instinctive to bury his face in the remaining pillow up top and pull himself half up on to his knees. Both are happy to switch but Dean loves the more dominant side of Roman and he encourages it when he can. From the shower and then the humidity in the air travelling to the hotel Dean's skin is hot and sticky when Roman runs his fingers from a scar on his knee up to his ass cheeks. Dean grumbles, irritated for more, and pushes back a little. Roman laughs.
"Miss me?"
"Well some asshole made it very clear I was to wait and if I did it would be worth my while."
"Some asshole huh?" Dean's eyes are closed and the talk comes cheap and easy. They both know where it will end. He hums in a high tone. They don't need more words. Roman just happens to like talking.
"Well I don't know what you're talking about but I do find myself pretty fascinated with this and yeah that may be the part where Dean keens and arches off the bed and swears as Roman presses his fingernails into the mounds of his ass cheeks and runs his thumbs down his crack to press at his hole. "As I said. Miss me?"
A multitude of things fall from Dean's lips then and he hears Roman laugh so figures that works out ok. He feels his cheeks being forced apart, kisses pressed to his back, his left kidney where he took a sore one tonight. Roman's legs are heavy and warm against his and then he feels bites around his hip bone. His fingers tense and leg to and tense and let go as Roman makes his mark across his hip and then just below, just enough for his jeans to hide. His dick rubs the pillow and he ruts on it with a grunt. "More."
"Hmmm?"
"More you fucker." Dean snarls. " Don't tease me. You got suspended. I waited. I waited as they fucking lined up Roman and all I wanted was you."
Roman grabs the back of his neck at that and shoves it forward. Dean snarls into the stupid blue pillow cover and pushes back. "What? I got the belt. They came after me."
Shoved back into the pillow again he rages up against Roman's touch but the bigger man his him by the arch of his back. "Tell me you gave them nothing."
"Obviously."
"Dean"
"Roman. No."
Then Roman's whole body is pressed to his and a kiss is against his throat. Teasing. Maybe too far. Things that need to be said but that they won't face in real conversation.
Before Dean can process, well, anything, Roman has him splayed across the mattress and his cheeks are forced apart with Roman's tongue against his hole. A stream of curses falls from Dean's mouth but all he can do is kick his legs and grab at sheets and wonder.
It has never been like this.
His hands are scrambling forward when he feels Roman's tongue penetrate his hole but the bigger mans larger hand against the small of his back stops him from going anywhere. He whimpers and shoves a hand between himself and the pillow, wanting to fuck his own hand but worried the movement will take him from Roman. Roman who is massaging his ass and sucking and pressing and worshiping. Dean can feel the tickle and the burn from Roman's new beard. He can already see the red rashes up his thighs that he can keep even if he can't keep Roman.
It has never been like this.
The more Dean tries to splutter about well, anything else, the more focused Roman seems to become on his ass. Fingers massage and when Roman doesn't have his tongue on him he's biting at tender flesh and working his fingers in, coated with lube and whatever Roman left. Dean wants it. He whines and pushes back against Roman's wet fingers. Laughter is breathed against his hot skin.
"Stop fucking with me. I've waited long enough." He snarls. "I've constantly defended against that weasel and now I'm stuck doing shitty cross brand tag matches with him. I deserve a good fuck."
Roman's hands still for a moment, on their way down Dean's sweaty back, "We're only together cause of those cross matches. This shit isn't going to be easy."
"With us it never was." Dean bites back. He doesn't turn to look because he can't face it. Perhaps it is for the best that neither can Roman.
He hears more than he sees but he sure as fuck feels. His Roman, one hand of large hot finger across Dean's stomach as he pulls the smaller frame back towards him and buries himself inside with a sigh and a hot heap of messy hair over Dean's shoulder. The beard itches his sore shoulder.
He cherishes the burn.