Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit

Author : ValmontHeights

Rating : Mature / Explicit

Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns

Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn

WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.

Author's Note: This will probably be the darkest chapter yet, given the timeframe. Not so much on the angst this time around but more on the angry, twisted, messed-up sex that is the flipside of the tenderness we saw in the last chapter. I promise I'll make the next one happy for once (and shamelessly smutty, too)!

Specific warnings for this chapter: dubious consent, bondage, sex tinged with violence, blood, dom/sub play, name-calling…well, you get the idea.

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This wasn't entirely new for him.

Roman had been on his knees for Hunter countless times before, on lush hotel carpets and cold tile floors alike, his own weight resting on his calves and threatening to cut off his circulation.

Having his hands tied behind his back with a leather belt wasn't something new, either—Hunter had done that to him on several occasions, whenever he felt like he needed to dial up the power play, or whenever Roman needed to go down real quick and hard.

Hunter's dick in his mouth was a familiar sensation, too—the weight and heat of it resting against his tongue, the girth making Roman's eyes water as he stretched his lips to accommodate. He'd been instructed explicitly not to get the older man off, restricting himself to gentle sucking and occasional flicks of his tongue, which had gone on for what felt like hours. Roman's spit was dripping down his chin, his jaw sore from the strain of keeping his mouth open around Hunter and his teeth covered, his own cock jutting hard and neglected from between his legs as he knelt there naked, his mouth reduced to a mere hole Hunter was using to keep his dick warm.

No, there really wasn't anything here that they hadn't done before—except for one little detail that Roman was painfully reminded of each time he dared to look up.

Hunter was seated at the edge of the large chair in the hotel room, hands resting on the armrests and his face a cold, hard mask of absolute control. The World Heavyweight Title, a bejeweled strap of black leather that had rested on Roman's shoulder up until a few hours ago, was draped across Hunter's waist, its garish emblem just inches from Roman's face, Hunter's newly-installed iron crosses gleaming from the sideplates.

Tonight, Roman wasn't on his knees for his Daddy. He was, quite literally, bowing down to the King of Kings, the newly-crowned Champion, the man who had ended Roman's title reign to the crowd's sheer delight, whose mere entrance into the arena had set the place on fire. A man who wielded the power to command the respect or scorn of thousands, whichever he chose, with a mere look in his eyes or a few choice words on the microphone.

Power Roman could never hope to wield—and one that was slipping further and further away from him.

Losing the title to Hunter had been the easy part—it was almost a welcome relief after a night of being built up as "one-versus-all", video packages which made Roman cringe but had little power to change, entry after entry coming into the ring to beat the shit out of him when he just wanted the night to be over and done with. When Hunter had held the title aloft and stared down at him with the roar of the crowd behind him, Roman had felt every bone in his body turn into lead—all the fight gone out of him. They were so loud, so loud in their approval of their new champion and in their disdain for Roman, that he'd wanted nothing more than to crawl into the ring and lay himself at Hunter's feet right then and there.

Why the fuck not, Roman had thought as he made the slow, painful walk backstage, still selling the heck out of the damage the League of Nations had inflicted on him. Why not finish the job right then and there, humiliate and degrade him until there was nothing left, show the crowd that the former Champion, the supposed leader of a so-called 'Empire', was nothing more than Triple H's bitch, a pliant and willing body he could use however he pleased?

He needed this—needed to feel the crushing weight of Hunter's power over him, needed it to drown out the noise in his head, needed the fog to be so thick inside his mind that nothing could penetrate through.

"You know, a lot gets thrown around backstage about your mic skills needing some work…" Hunter said casually as he looked down at Roman. "But why bother? I think we both know what your mouth is best for, don't we?"

Roman's lips fluttered around Hunter's cock at that, a shudder passing through his body.

"Too bad we weren't doing this when I used to come out for Wrestlemania seated on a throne like this chair…" the older man tapped his fingers against the armrests. "Would've loved to go out there with you kneeling like this, sucking my dick and showing the entire stadium what a whore you are,"

Roman moaned aloud, his mind flooded with images painted by Hunter's words, wrists straining against the belt holding them together at his back.

"Yeah, you actually like the sound of that, don't you?" Hunter smacked his right cheek, not hard but enough to sting. "My little whore of an ex-champion, all used up and broken—but always, always you come crawling back to me for more."

Hunter grabbed the back of Roman's head without warning and pulled him close, forcing his dick down Roman's throat and making him gag. Roman spluttered, fighting to keep his breathing as tears rolled free of his eyes, spit bubbling across his lips as a painful retch tore from deep inside him.

"You're a messy slut…" Hunter said almost affectionately, his fingers tangling in Roman's hair. "So fucking shameless."

Roman wanted to drown in that voice, to lose himself in the words that cut him apart like he was nothing, every shred of pride gone and stamped under Hunter's foot, incinerated in the glare of his eyes and the garish belt now bumping the ridge of Roman's nose.

"Took nearly all the roster to beat the fight out of you tonight, but the moment you saw me…you knew you were done, weren't you?" Hunter said as he clasped Roman's chin roughly.

Roman nodded, as much as he could with Hunter's cock lodged so deep in his throat.

"Yeah, saw it in your eyes the second I walked out on that ramp…you'd have rung the bell yourself and handed this thing to me on your knees if you could," Hunter tapped at the title belt with his other hand. "A good little slut who knows he's been put in his place."

Roman dragged his tongue along the underside of Hunter's cock, murmuring his appreciation. He was falling, head so murky only Hunter's voice could cut through the haze. His muscles were straining, tired from the long, heavy slog of the Royal Rumble and further aggravated by being in this position for such a stretch of time, consciousness reduced to the narrowest point of focus he could manage, the presence seated in power before him and the control he had over Roman.

"Off," Hunter commanded, yanking at Roman's hair to pull him away, his length sliding out of Roman's mouth. Roman leaned back, a thick trail of spit still connecting his lips to Hunter's cock, his own erection dripping into the carpet below.

Hunter backhanded him across the face, whipping Roman's head to one side and making him let out a sharp cry of pain and surprise. It wasn't Hunter's full strength—Roman would be unconscious if that had been the case, but it hit him hard enough that his cheek stung and his vision blurred. It hurt more than any of the bumps and hits Roman had taken tonight, more than being put through a table and slammed against ringposts. It struck Roman where nobody had dared to strike him before, defenseless, the intent behind it not to wound his body but his pride.

"More…" he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Hunter pulled at his hair again.

"I said, more…" Roman nearly spat out, though he could feel his voice withering as Hunter's intense gaze drilled into him. "Please…" he added, almost as an afterthought.

Hunter made a soft noise of amusement and leaned back, lifting his hand again. He hit Roman with the palm of his hand this time, and the fact that Roman saw it coming did little to lessen the pain.

"I guess losing brings out the painslut in you, huh?" Hunter said as he gripped Roman's aching jaw. "That's interesting…"

"I just…" Roman struggled to get his words out through his swollen lips, his face beginning to bruise in Hunter's strong hand. "I need…need something that hurts more."

"Well, aren't you a lucky little bitch, then…" Hunter stood up, one hand still gripping Roman's face while the other held on to the title belt. "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's to hurt…"

Roman strained his neck to maintain eye contact, the full height of Hunter looming over his kneeling form, aware of how utterly helpless he was in his predicament.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, Hunter struck him again, the force of it nearly enough to topple Roman to the floor. He gasped, tasting blood in his mouth, feeling it well up over a split in his lips.

Hunter yanked him up by the shoulders and tossed him unceremoniously into the bed, landing face-first awkwardly, unable to halt his momentum with his hands tied behind his back. Roman felt a sharp relief flood over him upon contact with the much more welcoming surface, though he knew his respite would be short-lived. Behind him, he could feel Hunter climbing onto the bed after him, knees knocking Roman's apart to make room.

"Not gonna give you much prep…" Hunter said. "I don't think you're gonna complain all that much."

Roman shook his head—he needed Hunter now, needed the sharp burn of and the weight of the other man's body pressed down on him, needed to feel the hard thrust of cock into his unprepared hole, dragging abusively against his inner walls and the litany of filth that went with it, needed to be taken apart and reduced into a willing receptacle for Hunter's pleasure.

Hunter jabbed two fingers inside him, minimally coated with spit, scissoring him open as he draped his body over Roman's back, breathing lustfully against his ear.

"Normally I wouldn't mind you coming untouched just from me fucking you…" he growled as his fingers drove deeper and deeper. "That's how much of a slut you are for my cock, isn't it? Just having it inside you is enough to get you off…"

Roman nodded frantically, pushing back against those invading digits.

"But not tonight," Hunter said. "Tonight, you come only when I tell you to—you got it?"

"Yes, sir…" Roman said weakly, his bloodied lips starting to speckle the white sheets with beads of crimson.

A third finger was added, Roman's hole stretching painfully at the rim to accommodate them, his eyes shut tight and his mouth open to let out ragged breaths. He wanted Hunter to wreck him, destroy him, finish him until there was nothing left, nothing left of Roman Reigns, the man that had been so stubbornly built up only to be torn down by one swift move from the only person who wielded true power, The Game, who held control over his mind and body like strings on a puppet.

"Maybe this is why they don't make you lose often," Hunter said as he rose up, fingers withdrawing from Roman sharply and landing a smack on his backside. "Maybe they know what it does to you, how you can't help but fall apart and go crawling after whoever beat you, begging for their cock…"

Roman buried his nose deeper into the sheets, the words shredding into him like shrapnel. "No, sir…it's only you, I swear, I swear it's only you—"

"Shut the fuck up," Hunter cut him off and rammed inside him in one savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt and knocking Roman forward until his head nearly bumped against headboard. Roman couldn't help but cry out, the sharp burn of it bringing tears to his eyes, barely able to catch his breath before Hunter started moving, thick fingers gripping both of Roman's hips for leverage.

It was too much, too much and not enough at the same time, Roman's wrists twitching helplessly in their bindings as he was fucked, as hard as he'd ever been, each thrust pushing his face further and further into the sheets until he almost couldn't breathe. Hunter pulled at the belt holding his wrists together and yanked back, straining Roman's shoulders even further, riding him like a beast, grunting low and harsh, the sound of it rippling up Roman's spine.

Roman fought to keep his aching dick from rubbing against the sheets, knowing each bit of friction would only bring him closer and closer to coming, unwilling to imagine the consequences of failing Hunter's orders. He was so far gone, title belts and hostile crowds driven out of his mind by sheer physical sensations, the fog now thickened into a shroud around him, binding and suffocating, blood ringing in his ears, spitting from his mouth, running like hot lava in his veins.

He knew by now how long Hunter could keep going like this, how far he could prolong Roman's torment, how easy his body was to manipulate to the older man's wishes.

Then, without warning, Hunter pulled out—the sudden ache and emptiness forcing a loud moan out of Roman's throat.

"Easy there, little slut…we're not done yet," Hunter chuckled darkly as he flipped Roman over like he weighed nothing, grabbing for his ankles and pushing them forward until Roman was nearly folded in half, dark eyes burning straight into him as he thrust back in.

Roman howled, the new angle jabbing him straight at his sensitive little spot, the sparks of pleasure rippling through him counterpointed with the harsh pain—his heaven and his hell merged into one. His bound wrists now underneath his body, the metal of the belt buckle digging into his lower back, Roman was acutely aware of how everything hurt—his strained muscles, his poor little hole that Hunter was fucking into, his sore mouth that had strained around the older man's dick, his lip split from Hunter's hand, the roots of his hair from where Hunter had yanked him roughly.

Only Hunter could hurt him like this—only Hunter knew how to hurt him, that had been obvious from way back when they first started messing around with each other, when Hunter had staked a claim over him and never left him alone since. Roman had fallen under his spell like some kind of paperback virgin, molded and shaped until he suited Hunter's needs, until he knew how to please and beg and submit.

Maybe that was all he would ever be good for, maybe that was all he ever needed to be. If pleasing an audience of millions was out of his grasp, then at least he could please one man, couldn't he?

Hunter moved in as if to kiss him but Roman turned his face away, flinching at the thought of any tenderness intruding. Hunter settled on licking at his jaw instead, moving downward to suck harshly at his neck, undoubtedly leaving marks, ugly red hickeys that would turn blue tomorrow, marks Roman would have to let down his hair to cover up but would rather wear proudly instead, let the world see who owned him.

Hunter shoved Roman's ankles even further back over his body, stretching him to the limit of his flexibility, pounding hard and deep, his pace picking up as he neared climax. Bent backwards like this Roman could see Hunter's cock driving in and out of his body, the slick sounds of it echoing loud in the room, his hole open and helpless to the invasion. Tears were falling freely from his eyes now, his mouth struggling to take in breaths as his nose felt clogged up.

"You need my come in this needy little hole of yours?" Hunter grunted.

"Yes, sir…" Roman choked out, his voice nearly gone. "Please…please come inside me."

Hunter did just that, burying himself deep one last time and holding Roman still, his own muscles straining with the effort, face contorting with mixed pleasure and menace as he came. Roman could feel it filling him up, hot and thick against his battered insides, his own cock twitching weakly at the sensation, desperate and straining. Hunter let Roman's legs go, falling limply against the mattress, riding him through the aftershocks.

"Should plug you up so you don't lose any of it…" Hunter muttered under his breath. "But let's save that for some other time."

Roman bit his lip, his own cock aching for release, oozing against his stomach as if begging for attention. Hunter took a swipe at the gleaming head with one hand, forcing another moan out of Roman as he struggled not to come, not to lose himself to the rough friction of the calloused fingers stroking at him.

"Poor little thing…" Hunter said mock-sweetly as he cradled Roman's cock in his hand, palm rubbing at the sensitive underside. "So desperate…"

"Please…" Roman whimpered.

Hunter's grip tightened, starting to stroke in earnest as he fell forward onto Roman, lips latching onto one hard nipple and sucking loudly. "Come…" he said with the hard nub caught between his teeth.

Roman lost it right there, climax ripped through him by the sheer force of Hunter's command and the contact made on his flesh, teeth and fingers and a cock still lodged deep inside, screaming himself raw until all remaining strength left him. He fell limp as a ragdoll in the aftermath, tense muscles unwinding into liquid as Hunter withdrew from him, and for a moment it felt like he might actually lose consciousness, the edges of his vision growing blurry and black.

"Stay with me…" he could distantly hear Hunter's voice as he was rolled onto his side, deft hands undoing the bindings around his wrists. Roman drew his hands to his face as soon as they were free, rubbing at the raw flesh of his wrists, the indents left by the strap of the belt and its metal hardware. He curled up, tucking into his own chest, only faintly registering the feeling of Hunter leaving the bed and rummaging around the room, of the bathroom lights being switched on, of water running in the sink. Tentatively, Roman licked at his raw wrists, tasting leather and sweat and feeling the sting of the reddish welts that ran across his skin, the purplish bulge of his veins underneath them.

Hunter returned with a damp washcloth and gently coaxed his legs open, and Roman complied without looking. He wasn't sure what he'd see in Hunter's eyes then, wasn't sure if he'd be ready for it, what this meant for them down the line.

"Am I…bleeding down there?" he asked after several minutes had passed and Hunter had finished cleaning off most of his lower body.

"A little," Hunter said, working the damp cloth on Roman's stomach.

Roman bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. "Good…" he muttered.

Hunter's hand stopped moving. "Is that what you needed?"

Roman nodded his head slowly. "Don't ask me to explain…"

"I won't," Hunter promised. "If any of this actually helps you, that's enough for me."

Anger flared in Roman's chest then, hot and sudden, and he twisted his head to look at Hunter. "Don't do that…don't fucking say that to me."

Hunter looked genuinely taken aback. "What?"

"We've been doing this long enough, Hunter…we both know you're not doing this out of the pure kindness of your good old heart," Roman spat out bitterly. "Don't make me out to be a charity case. You got off on that just as much as I did. Don't even fucking pretend you didn't."

Hunter was still for a few moments, nostrils flaring as his eyes locked with Roman's heated gaze, and for a moment Roman almost expected to get hit again. But then the older man's shoulders sagged and he tossed the washcloth aside, sighing deeply as he moved to sit next to Roman, though not quite touching him.

"You're right…" he said. "I shouldn't have said that." He reached for one of Roman's wrists, pausing just as his fingers skirted over the raw flesh. "Okay if I touch you?"

Roman nodded slowly as Hunter took his hand, threading their fingers together as his other hand inspected the marks his belt had left there. He pressed his thumb into the indent and Roman winced, but didn't move to take his hand away.

"One of these days…you're going to push me too far, and I'm going to do something I regret," Hunter said. "You know what gets me, and by now you're as good at getting me worked up as I am with you."

"Thanks for the compliment," Roman mumbled.

"Roman, I'm serious…" Hunter tightened his hand slightly. "This isn't even half of what I'm capable of."

Roman pushed himself up off the bed, ignoring his protesting muscles and sore backside as he sat up, determined to look at Hunter at eye level. "That's why you made me choose a safeword, right?"

Hunter chuckled bitterly. "You've never even used your safeword…"

"Never had reason to," Roman shrugged.

There was something in Hunter's eyes which suggested that he didn't quite believe him, and Roman couldn't blame him. He started to stand up and walk away when Hunter's hand on his wrist caught him.

"Where you going?"

"Back to my room…" Roman said as he pulled his hand free, moving to gather his clothes off the floor.

"You're not staying?"

"Can't…" Roman shook his head, which was still hazy and half-dazed as he struggled to put his clothes back on. Normally, he'd welcome the prospect of sleeping in Hunter's bed for the rest of the night, safely cocooned in arms which had only moments ago destroyed him, but he'd made up his mind about tonight-and about the months to come.

Hunter at least had the presence of mind to help him get dressed, doing up the buttons of his shirt, a task Roman couldn't manage with how badly his fingers were shaking. After he was dressed Hunter also made him sit down and drink half a bottle of water he'd pulled from the minibar, cooling his parched throat. When Roman had gained back more of his senses and the ability to speak, he finally looked up at Hunter who was standing cautiously near the doorway.

"I need a break…" he started. "…from this. From us."

Hunter sighed, nodding his head slowly. "I had a feeling you'd say that…"

Roman stood up slowly, walking gingerly towards where Hunter stood, every ache and pain in his body magnified with each step. "I just…they're gonna make us beat the living crap out of each other for the next couple of months, and I can't….I can't…."

I can't do it if all I can think of is how much I want you, how good you've been to me, how much I fucking need you all the time.

"…it doesn't feel right," Roman finished his sentence awkwardly.

"I know," Hunter said.

"I'm sorry," he hung his head.

"Don't be…" Hunter assured him. "You do whatever you need—for you, okay?"

I need you. I'll always need you. I never stopped needing you from the first time you touched me.

"Okay…" Roman said. "Thank you."

A few minutes later he was out of the suite, the heavy doors shutting behind him as he stood in the glaring rights of the deserted hotel corridor, garish and bright, hands dug deep into the pockets of his hoodie where they balled into fists. Slowly walking towards the elevators on shaky legs, he pretended not to hear the muffled noise of anguish coming from behind the door he'd just left, and the lound banging of it being kicked in frustration.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" Dean said from the bathroom door. "What the fuck did that old bastard do to you?!"

Roman knew how he must have looked, standing naked just outside of the shower booth. The noise of him clattering about the bathroom must have woken Dean up, seeing as how he's now standing with bleary eyes that were nonetheless alarmed as he gazed up and down Roman's body. Dean had seen Hunter's marks on him before but never like this, never so raw and fresh, and never so many of them all at once.

"Nothing I didn't ask him to…" Roman replied.

Dean's face tightened with the telltale signs of words that were being held back, which was uncharacteristic of Dean, especially when he'd been roused from sleep at assfuck o'clock in the morning.

"Please tell me he at least took care of you afterwards…" Dean said.

"Yeah…" Roman nodded as he grabbed a towel off the wall rack. "Yeah, he did."

Dean sighed heavily and leaned against the doorframe. "Seth called earlier…"

"Yeah? How is the little shithead?" Roman asked as he dried off.

"Pissed off and whining about the knee, as ever—doesn't look like he's going to make it for Mania," Dean said. "He saw how the Rumble went down… wanted to know if you were okay."

"And…?"

"Told him the old man was taking care of you, which seemed to be good enough for him." Dean shrugged. "I hope it was good enough for you…"

"More than enough," Roman said, not bothering to explain further. Dean didn't need to hear it—Roman wasn't fond of telling tales like Seth used to do way back then, when The Shield were still together and him and Hunter were getting it on regularly, talking Dean and Roman's ears off about how fucking amazing the older man was and how much he liked being a slut for his 'Big Daddy'. Mostly he did it to rile Dean and Roman up into getting a little rough with him, Dean calling him a shameless little pervert and Seth calling him one right back.

Roman missed those days. As messed up as they were, things were simpler back then.

When he finished changing into his sleeping clothes and came out of the bathroom, Dean was back on his bed again—hands tucked behind his head. Roman was just about ready to pull the covers back on his own pristine, untouched bed when a thought struck him. Not just a thought but a need, albeit one far removed from anything he ever needed from Hunter.

"Dean…" Roman said. "Can you…scoot over?"

Dean looked up at him for a few seconds, then smiled lopsidedly and moved over, making room for Roman on the mattress and patting the space next to him. "Come up here, you big pussycat…"

Dean smelled like aftershave and tobacco, there was always something unkempt and loose about him even when he's on his best behavior—which was almost never. Roman had always appreciated that about him, how easy and generous Dean was with both his affections and his violence. The bed was too small for them but they made do, just like they had when Seth was still rooming with them, Roman's head coming to rest on the crook of Dean's shoulder. Dean patted his head lightly, like the softest tag possible, yawning wide as he switched off the bedside lamp.

"Y'know, it's funny how I used to run in a stable with two of the biggest fucking headcases I know, and yet somehow I'm still the 'Lunatic' in the group…"

Roman chuckled at that, his first real taste of mirth in the last twelve hours, and settled himself to sleep, Dean's steady heartbeat serving as his lullaby.