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.
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Whoever had the bright idea of holding a board meeting at eight-thirty in the morning ought to be taken out back and piledriven through a dumpster.
Hunter stared at his distorted reflection in the coffee urn as he poured his second cup of the day, already missing his espresso machine back in Orlando. The lounge adjoining the main conference room was slowly filling up with loose clusters of shareholders, boardmembers, and representatives from upper management and production, but Hunter was in no mood to make small talk—he'd barely slept the night before and he didn't quite know yet what to expect from the meeting today.
"Go easy on the caf, sweetie…" a familiar voice said from behind him. "Wouldn't want you to get a heart murmur before we even wrap up the first session…"
Hunter smiled as he sipped at the frothy black liquid, turning around to face his wife. Stephanie was in one of her no-nonsense business suits, hair falling loose around her shoulders, the golden drop earrings he'd bought her for their tenth anniversary adorning each side of her face.
"Didn't sleep well last night," he reasoned. "Wanted to make sure I came prepared."
That was only half the truth—Hunter had been working on a presentation on the current projects within talent development, but he'd finished it up by the time they landed in Connecticut. What kept him up for most of the night was Roman, who slept fitfully and kept twisting and turning next to him, on a bed that while large enough to accommodate them was still decidedly smaller and less comfortable than the one they'd been sharing in Orlando for the better part of two weeks.
It had taken Hunter's arm around him and the press of a warm, familiar body behind his back to finally get Roman to calm down enough to sleep in earnest, Hunter's hand petting gently at his stomach as the bedside clock ticked over to 3 a.m.
"I like this new scruff," Stephanie said as she kissed his cheek and the growing beard Hunter hadn't bothered to shave for weeks. "Looks good on you."
"Just skirting the limits of business appropriate, don't you think?"
She nudged his shoulder lightly with hers. "You always did like to live a little bit on the edge, babe…"
Roman's beard had been growing out too, to the point where Hunter had rather bluntly offered to shave it for him. The boy's response was that the beard was staying until he got back in the ring, but that Hunter was welcome to shave any other part of him he wanted. That ultimately led to three nights ago, when Hunter had made Roman bend over the bathroom counter and took a razor to his backside, shaving him so carefully and meticulously until he was as smooth and bare as a newborn baby. Then he'd thrown Roman flat on his back on their bed, pulled his legs apart and eaten him out until Roman came twice screaming his name and his thighs were red and raw with beardburn.
Fuck this meeting. Fuck the board. Fuck Vince and his agendas.
"You have any clue what all this is about?"
She shrugged. "You know how Dad gets…but judging by the people he's called in I'm betting it has something to do with the brand split."
"I thought we'd settled the roster issue last week," Hunter said with a heavy sigh.
"Not until he signs off on the final list," she reminded him. "Just…be ready for anything, okay, babe?"
He looked at her grimly. "I don't like the sound of that,"
Patting his arm gently, she led him towards the door to the conference room. "Put your game face on, Hunter…could be one of those days."
—
It turned out to be one of those days and then some .
By the time the meeting was adjourned for lunch, Hunter felt like he had a few veins ready to pop and his hands hurt from gripping his armrests to stop him from making one ill-advised argument too many. All through it, Steph kept shooting him wary glances, a mixture of sympathy and warning, but all things considered he'd managed to keep his composure quite well.
After a few minutes of staring blankly at the unappetizing spread laid out on the buffet in the lounge, Hunter decided to park himself in a corner of the room instead, nursing a bottle of sparkling water and staring out the window with his forehead pressed against the glass.
"You should eat something…" Steph said as she approached him from behind. "Gotta have some energy if you wanna win back some ground in the next session."
"Is there any ground for me to win back?" he retorted. "I just lost the top half of my NXT roster, Steph…he's pretty much stripped me bare. I'm gonna have to build everything from the ground up again."
"Which we know you can do," she said as she sidled up next to him, linking an arm around his waist. "You've got a great talent pool going down there, the scouts have done their work."
He sighed deeply. "And what's he gonna do with the ones he picked? Stick them on the main roster without a clear plan, a clear program, and hope they get over by sheer strength of will? We both know that's not gonna happen."
"It's not a fair system," she conceded. "Never has been, never will be."
He shook his head. "Steph…I've got a whole Performance Center full of bright-eyed kids who want nothing more than to move up to the main roster. Times like this… I wonder if I should just flat out tell them that what's waiting for them there is a whole lotta bullshit and an old man who can bury them on a whim."
"Don't be so harsh, sweetie…" she said as she rested a chin on his shoulder. "You can still get your way if you can convince him. You know he listens to you."
"I wish he'd listen to me more ," Hunter said, staring at their reflection in the window's glass panes.
"You need to give him time," she told him. "You can't push him too hard, Hunter…you know this."
He took a swig from his bottle, trying to cool his parched throat. "I know…"
For a while neither of them said anything, just stood there together as the city bustled below, muffled noises of traffic and the occasional wail of a distant siren. Hunter's mind drifted towards Roman once again, wondering what he was doing, what time he got up this morning and whether he was upset about waking up to an empty bed. In hindsight, Hunter probably should've woken him up even if only to let him know that he was leaving, but Roman had so much trouble falling asleep in the first place that Hunter simply couldn't bring himself to do it.
"So…" Steph said as she scooted even closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you bring him with you?"
"Yeah…" Hunter said, matching her tone. "He's in a hotel room downtown."
"And how is he doing?"
"Pretty good, all things considered…" he said. "Keeping out of trouble."
She chuckled lightly against his shoulder. "How's that possible when he spends all his time with you ?"
He had to smile at that, even just a little. "Well, you got me there, babe…"
She reached up to straighten his tie a little, neatly-manicured fingers brushing against the lapel of his suit. "You know...all these years, watching them come and go, one after another…I knew eventually there was gonna be one of them you'd get all… precious about."
Hunter felt his chest tighten slightly at her remark, though he fought not to let it show. She probably noticed anyway.
"When…when did you realize it was him?" he dared himself to ask.
"When you stopped telling stories about him a couple months in," she leaned in closer. "Like he was something you wanted to keep all for yourself…something you didn't want to share with anyone."
He swallowed the lump in his throat. "That was two years ago."
"Yes…and I knew even then," she said.
He shook his head slowly. "I didn't."
"Well, I guess you're lucky I'm around to tell you these things, then—" she said, the wistful tone in her voice skirting somewhere between fondness and mockery. It wasn't her microphone voice, the one she used to address arenas full of booing fans who were clamoring to see her put in her place, or the one she used in front of crowds of sponsors and stakeholders. It was an altogether private voice, the one shared between them, the one he suspected even her father rarely heard.
"Does it bother you?" he asked after another long silence.
"You'd have known if it did…" she said matter-of-factly. "I would've said something then. That was our agreement, wasn't it?"
The agreement, such as it was, had some stipulations and clauses to it, but what it essentially boiled down to was total and complete honesty. There was nothing he would hide from her, and vice versa, though in practice he rarely disclosed things to her without her prompting him for the information first. That she had waited this long to bring up Roman told him that perhaps she'd been as reluctant as he was to confront the reality of what was going on.
"I'm going to tell you something you've never heard me say before…" he said as he grasped one of her hands in hers. "I don't know what I'm doing."
She looked up at him, genuine concern coloring her eyes. "What do you mean?"
" Him. I don't know what I'm doing with him—where it goes, how it ends, whether I'm doing him more harm than good…"
"Oh, sweetie…" she clasped his fingers tighter. "I can't answer the first two, but I'm pretty darn sure you're doing him a lot of good right now."
"Am I, though?"
"Hunter, it wasn't you that turned the world against him," she reminded him. "You tried to fix it. We gave it our best shot."
"And it didn't fucking work," he shook his head. "That whole program—it just got worse for him as it went on. And I should've seen it coming, Steph…I should've seen the signs."
"Bullshit," she said. "When spearing me into the mat doesn't get somebody over, we both know that means the problem runs deeper and more complicated than just a few bad bookings."
He made a pathetic attempt at a laugh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, that usually does the trick, doesn't it?"
"I know you like the idea of being able to orchestrate or manipulate every outcome, babe…you've gotten so good at that over the years," Stephanie said. "But there are things even you can't control."
He couldn't help but smile mournfully at that. "Would it surprise you to know that last year, Dean Ambrose said the exact same thing to me?"
Steph raised her eyebrows a little. "The exact same thing?"
"Almost to the word," he nodded. "Though he didn't quite call me 'babe',"
"I'm glad he didn't, or else I would have an issue," she elbowed him playfully. "He's not wrong, though."
"No…no he isn't." Hunter agreed.
She took a deep breath and withdrew a little, where she could cup his jaw in her hands and look him in the eyes. "You're a good man who's trying to do the right things. There's a lot of people out there who don't see that, and they probably never will, but I see it."
"I don't need people to see it," he said. "I just want to do what I do and make a real difference in this company."
"Then go in there and fight for it," she gestured her head in the direction of the conference room. "Pick your battles, state your case, and stand your ground."
He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes around the warmth emanating from her palms. Her hands were soft and small by comparison, a waft of feminine perfume emanating from her wrists. It was the same scent she'd worn on their first real date together, back when they still had the privilege of calling themselves young and foolish, an anchor in his memory. There had been very few constants in Hunter's life—wrestling was one, Stephanie was another.
"Thank you," he whispered, not bothering to elaborate the extent of what he was thanking her for. She didn't need it.
—
Dusk had descended over Stamford when Hunter could finally let himself back into his hotel room, letting his briefcase hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. Roman was standing in the middle of the room, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, the look on his face a mixture of relief and expectation. Wordlessly, Hunter beckoned him close with one hand as the other loosened his tie and tossed it aside, still marveling at how quickly and unquestioningly Roman went to him, as if he'd been waiting all day for this very moment.
He pulled Roman close as soon as he was within reach, not bothering with preamble and going straight for the younger man's mouth, kissing him fiercely with both hands clasping the back of his neck. Roman pressed close to him, the warmth and weight of him setting off a mixture of relief and aching need in Hunter's own body.
This, this was something he could control. How he touched Roman, how he held him, the things that happened within this protected space he'd fought so hard to maintain around them. He wasn't going to fuck this up. He couldn't.
"You were gone so long…" Roman said breathlessly against his mouth, his voice deep and even but with a barely-masked tremble of urgency.
"I know," Hunter said as he kissed Roman's cheek. Since they'd been staying at Hunter's place in Orlando, he'd rarely let Roman out of his sights for more than a few hours at a time, except when he had tapings down at Full Sail, and even then there would be a constant stream of text messages just to keep in touch with what the other was doing. Today was the longest they'd been away from each other without some form of contact—twelve hours. It did things to Hunter that didn't bode well for how he would cope with the inevitable day when he could no longer keep Roman for himself, when he would have to get used to the idea of other people—trainers, opponents, referees, fans—even touching Roman again.
The thought made him shudder and pull Roman down with him as he sank to his knees, two grown men tumbling awkwardly with their thick limbs tangled around each other, still chasing at each other's mouth. Hunter nipped none-too-gently at Roman's neck as they fumbled with buttons and zippers, feeling the urgent need to make some kind of mark on the boy's flesh. Roman was used to it by now—he let out a small gasp but didn't pull away, letting Hunter manhandle him until he was astride the older man's lap, his back to the wall as his legs wrapped around Hunter's waist. Hunter latched onto every inch of flesh available to him as clothes were thrown aside, the sharp bite of teeth followed by long licks of his tongue, hands kneading possessively at Roman's thighs.
Steph had called him a good man but Hunter knew better. He was a selfish man, through and through, who wanted things his way and wanted to keep what was his. And Roman? Roman was his . He could keep Roman happy, or at the very least— content , blissfully removed from the fickle mob or the nameless voices that clamored for his demise. He could keep Roman away from all that, what fool would knowingly let him back out into the world just to get torn down again?
You're fooling yourself, the voice inside his head told him. You're a lot of things, but a fool shouldn't be one of them. That the voice sounded worryingly like Steph's was something he vehemently chose to ignore.
He breached Roman almost dry, spit and sweat not nearly enough to ease his way in but he'd been rougher in the past and Roman had taken it, the same way he'd taken everything Hunter had ever done to him. Roman clasped his arms around Hunter's back and moaned, the sound of it sparking off something primal and dark in the recesses of Hunter's mind. He'd broken the boy's body through tables, smashed his head into steel steps and cracked his nose against ringposts. Roman could give as good as he got. Except he never did, not when they were like this, not with Hunter's cock splitting him open and the air between them foggy with lust.
Roman's long hair was hanging in sweaty strands, plastered against his face and his gasping, open mouth, glassy brown eyes unfocused even as Hunter stared right into them. He was so fucking beautiful like this, open and pliant, breath hitching in his throat as his head thrashed against the wall behind it. Hunter knew that look so well—it was the look that had drawn him in the first place, the look that had his brain, devious to begin with, coming up with all sorts of ideas as to how he could lock this intoxicating creature in his possession forever, claimed for and forbidden to anyone else.
What the fuck have you done to me?
It wasn't a fair question, and Hunter knew it even as it rang in his mind—it was Hunter who had done most of the doing in their shared, unbalanced history together. Roman had gone along with everything—obedient, eager to please, accommodating, trusting. The look in his eyes never changed, whether Hunter was making slow love to him and telling him how precious he was or slamming him to the floor and mounting him like he was nothing more than breeding stock. Nobody else in the world had ever looked at him like that.
Stephanie always looked at him like she had him figured out, like she knew him better than he knew himself.
Seth, by comparison, used to stare at him like he was egging Hunter on, like he was figuring out his next big tease.
Sami's gaze was harder for him to bear—questioning, searching, like he could look right through Hunter even without trying.
But Roman Reigns had never looked at him with anything other than utter and complete trust, something he should know better than to give a man of Hunter's disposition. No man with his ego should've been given this much of an opening to something he so single-mindedly wanted, and no man in Roman's position should have ever given himself up so easily. And yet there they were, two years on, and the look in Roman's eyes still left him dumbstruck and with a fire inside him he could never quell.
Roman's arms were flung loosely around his neck now, Hunter had coaxed his climax out of him with calloused hands and was now after his own release, fucking Roman against the wall. His knees would kill him in the morning but Hunter couldn't care less, thrusting hard and fast until he thumped Roman one last time against the wall, holding him there, spilling wet and messy inside his boy until he could feel some of it leaking around the bruised rim where his cock was still lodged tight.
"Fuuuck…" Roman let out a long, raspy sigh as his head fell on Hunter's shoulder. "Where'd that come from?"
"Heck if I know," Hunter said in between short, gasping breaths. His ears were still ringing.
"You never go at me like that unless it's after a big match," Roman said. "What happened today?"
Hunter shook his head. "I wouldn't call it a five-star classic…but it was definitely a fight."
"Oh…" Roman stroked trembling fingers down his chin, sweat beading on his face as if he'd just gone through an Iron Man match. "Did you win?"
Hunter rubbed his palms into Roman's stomach, coating his fingers with drying come and sweat. He hadn't exactly been keeping score, but at the end of the day he'd managed to fight tooth and claw to keep Nakamura and Samoa Joe in NXT, as well as getting the board to sign off on the Blackpool venue he'd wanted to use for the UK Tournament. Vince and some of the older boardmembers had initially rolled their eyes at the initial concept of an all-female tournament, but Hunter had done his homework preparing the scouting reports and videos that eventually won them over. The future of those he'd lost to the main roster was still uncertain, but his long-term plans remained intact.
"I think…I think I just did. "
Roman gave him a small, trembling smile. "S'not fair…how can you call it a win when I never fight back?"
There it was again, the seemingly offhand remark that sent something rumbling in his chest. "I sometimes wish you would, just a little."
Roman shook his head. "Don't wanna fight you…not anymore. Not ever."
Hunter kissed him then, deep and searing, if only because he couldn't look in the boy's eyes anymore. It was too much. His chest felt ready to burst with something that had been fighting its way to the surface for the better part of two years, something he hadn't seen coming when he first laid his hands on Roman's bruised back in a dimly-lit hotel room in Indianapolis.
"I'm sorry I left without telling you this morning," he whispered against Roman's jaw. "Didn't wanna wake you,"
"It's ok…" Roman assured him. "When…when can we go home?"
"Day after tomorrow," Hunter said, trying to ignore how Roman's intonation of home set a flutter of warmth down his neck. "I have one more meeting in the morning, then we'll have the rest of the day free-but they can't free up the company plane until Wednesday."
"Okay…" Roman nodded.
"You had dinner yet?"
"No…"
"Me neither," Hunter said. "Don't feel like going out, so let's make the most out of room service and call it a night, yeah?"
"Yeah…" Roman agreed, then together they stumbled to get to their feet. Hunter's legs had nearly gone to sleep but he steadied himself with one hand braced on the wall and one arm around Roman's waist, still mouthing at the skin on his tattooed shoulder. He couldn't get enough.
It turned out that Roman had skipped lunch just as he had, and it left both of them ravenous. Hunter ordered about half the items on the hotel's sparse room service menu while Roman took a long shower, and had the bellboy who brought the food up arrange the dishes on the low coffee table in the living room area of the suite. He tipped the young man generously and started picking at some of the appetizers, quickly realizing it was much more comfortable to sit on the floor with his back against the couch rather than sitting hunched over on it.
"Started without me?" Roman said as he stepped into Hunter's vision, draped in a hotel bathrobe that barely fitted over his shoulders.
Hunter merely smiled as Roman joined him on the floor, shower-damp body pressing against him. Soon all pretense of decorum was forgotten as he proceeded to hand-feed Roman, watching in rapt attention as the boy made a show of licking his fingers clean, each time waiting for the next handful that would be fed to him.
Hunter was hard again in no time, pulling Roman half onto his lap and chasing after the taste of food on Roman's lips with his own mouth, ignoring half-hearted protests about how much of a mess they were making and how they would need another shower after this.
It was dessert that ultimately proved to be his undoing, because the sight of Roman's thick, pinkish tongue licking frosting off his knuckles was just too much. He wrested Roman to straddle him, pushing the robe aside and gliding his fingers down to Roman's ass, still bare and smooth after his thorough shave job, bucking up wildly into him.
"Feeling full yet, baby boy?" he said as he scooped up another handful of frosting-laden cake on his fingers, bringing it close to Roman's mouth.
"S'long as you keep feeding me, Imma keep eating…" Roman said before he took nearly three of Hunter's fingers into his mouth, unabashedly moaning and grinding himself down on Hunter's cock as his eyes fluttered shut.
"I thought you had a healthy appetite before, but you just keep surprising me…" Hunter remarked as his other hand patted Roman's rump affectionately, marveling in its roundness and how the skin yielded to his touch. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have sworn I've knocked you up or something."
Roman gasped involuntarily around his fingers, a flush of color rising to his already warm cheeks.
"Yeah, you like the sound of that?" Hunter said as he drew his fingers out and cupped Roman's jaw firmly. "Like the idea of me knocking you up?"
Roman just stared at him, swollen lips trembling. "I...I can't-"
"Doesn't mean you can't enjoy the thought of it…" Hunter smiled, hand roving down to palm at Roman's belly. Roman had never gotten the rock-hard abdominal definition of some of his colleagues in the business, there was always some leftover give and pudginess in his middle that Hunter had always found himself drawn to. "I know I'd love the sight of you, all swollen up and full of me."
Roman's cock jumped at the words, Hunter could feel the change of tension in h is body. The flush on his cheeks was more pronounced now, even as his eyes went hazy with obvious arousal.
"Would you do that for me? Let me fill you up like that, get you so heavy with me you can't even fucking walk?"
Roman bit his lower lip and hissed out, "Yes…"
"Bet you'd look so good…" Hunter let his hand drift up to Roman's chest, fondling at his right pectoral. "Bet these would fill up nicely, too…"
Roman was completely gone now, not even pretending that he didn't enjoy it. He watched, as if hypnotized, as Hunter's hands roamed his body, feeling up the parts of him that would stretch and swell in their fantasized pregnancy, Hunter's voice narrating each of them close to his ear.
"Turn around," Hunter commanded.
Roman complied, sluggish with how quickly he'd fallen under, until he had his back to Hunter's chest. Slowly, Hunter guided him down until Roman's still-wet hole could sink down on his hard cock, legs splayed wide over each side of Hunter's, fully seated on his lap with his head thrown back against Hunter's shoulder. Hunter's hands went everywhere, palming greedily at Roman's chest and the slight swell of his belly, letting the feel of the skin under his hand drag them further and further into the fantasy.
"Boy as beautiful as you...you'd give me the prettiest little babies..." he said as he licked at Roman's neck. "You've got a body others would kill to get to breed with, but that's not gonna happen, is it?"
"No…" Roman gasped. "Only you…"
"Damn right…" Hunter said as he thrust upwards, holding Roman's hips down as he fucked into the boy's maddeningly tight hole. "Feel how deep I am in you right now, baby boy?"
"Y-yes…"
"I'd fuck you even deeper if I could," Hunter growled against his neck. "Make sure you're all nice and knocked up for me, full and ripe and fucking swollen…"
"Fuuck…" Roman threw his head back, hands reaching back to grasp the back of Hunter's neck.
"Just think of what I'd be able to do to you then," Hunter said. "I won't have to give you up after thirty days-I'd get to keep you for nine fucking months, maybe forever…"
Roman gasped and came at that, untouched, his cock sputtering wildly between his legs as a stream of unintelligible words came out of him, voice hoarse and breathless. Hunter followed soon after, the intensity of it too much for him to hold back anymore. His hands cupped Roman's stomach all through it, imagining that he was emptying his balls into a waiting womb.
And you thought you were fucked up before.
Roman quietly slipped off his lap and resettled himself next to Hunter as they both came down from the high, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the room.
"Too much?" Hunter managed to ask after some time.
"Fuck, no…" Roman said as he rested his head on Hunter's shoulder. "Do that again sometime,"
"Would've done it to you long ago if I knew you'd be so into it…" Hunter said as he pressed his nose into Roman's forehead. "Learn something new every day, I guess…"
"You're so fucking horny tonight," Roman said. "I mean, you always are but you haven't been this intense for a long time."
Hunter sighed. "Hate to break it to you...but you might have to give that ass up again before the night is over."
Roman gave him an exaggerated pout. "Oh well, it's not like I have anything better to do when I'm traveling incognito with my boss…"
"Would make my business trips a lot less tedious, that's for sure…" Hunter said.
"You need to give me another bath. I did it last time," Roman demanded.
"You'll always end up needing another…" Hunter reminded him playfully.
"Whatever, we're in a hotel, it's not your water bill to pay…" Roman said.
"Fair enough," Hunter said.
True to his word, Hunter did manage to sneak in one more fuck before they both fell asleep that night, this time on the bed, a rather leisurely session compared to the previous two frantic encounters. He barely said anything throughout, not needing any fantasy to feed them this time, just kept his arm tight around Roman's waist as he rocked his cock into that sweet, welcoming hole, nipping at the base of Roman's neck.
Something had undoubtedly shaken loose inside him, something he couldn't fully attribute to the stress of that day's meeting and the long fight he'd had to put up just to protect his future interests. Maybe it was the unstoppable march of time, the inevitable ticking of the clock that reminded him that his time with Roman was finite. Maybe it was the confession that Steph had unwittingly forced out of him, the first time he'd had to confront his own uncertainty.
Or maybe it was Roman himself, who had followed him blindly out of the relative comfort of seclusion and into this city and this hotel room, where the bed was a just a bit too small and the shower didn't quite have enough water pressure, because Hunter had asked him to.
As Roman drifted off to sleep, Hunter kept watch over him for a long time, taking in features that had become so familiar to him over the last two weeks he was in danger of taking them for granted. Roman always curled a little in on himself when he slept, Hunter remembered learning that little tidbit from Seth many years ago. At first he thought it was because Roman felt the need to make himself small when he was sharing a hotel bed with two others and didn't want to take up the most space, but he still did it on beds twice as large and with nobody else but Hunter to share it with. It was just a little quirk, one of those random things one learned about another person over time, but Hunter found it oddly endearing.
You can't keep him forever.
No, but he could at least ensure there would always be something for Roman to come back to, something solid and clearly-defined, not just two grown men who'd spent the earlier part of the year beating each other up for public spectacle suddenly pretending to cohabitate like normal, well-adjusted people while the world passed them by. If Roman was willing to follow him anywhere, Hunter had to be sure he wasn't leading the boy into a mental quagmire that would only weaken and confuse him the further they went along.
He'd waited nearly two weeks. It was long enough.
Roman woke up with that familiar, pleasant ache in his body-the one that brought a smile to his face even before his eyes had fully opened. The bed next to him was empty, again, but that was to be expected-Hunter had left for his morning meeting but had promised that they'd have the rest of the day free.
Last night had been...fun, if a little bit odd. Hunter had come back from his long meeting like a caged animal set loose on his favorite prey, and hadn't bothered to divulge any details about what drove him to such a mood. Roman wasn't going to complain, though-he got a good meal and three amazing fucks out of it, which more than made up for the wholly boring day he'd had to endure while Hunter was away.
He went to the bathroom for a quick piss and came back to the bedroom to find his phone buzzing, and a familiar name flashing on screen.
Dean Ambrose .
"Well, if it isn't the World Heavyweight Champ himself…"
"Oh, knock it off…" Dean's familiar rasp said from the other end. "How you doing, Big Dog?"
"Pretty good," Roman said. "All caught up on Game of Thrones now, just like the rest of the world."
"Well, I'm glad you've put your free time to good use," Dean said. "I take it you haven't been following what's been going on with us in the mad circus."
"All I know is that you've been defending my honor and Seth's been trying to dismantle it," Roman said. "Closest you'll ever come to chivalry and me being a medieval princess."
"I don't have three dragons at my disposal so my fists will have to do, I'm afraid…"
Roman grinned. "So you have been watching the show."
"Renee's really fucking into it, she made me sit through a couple of box sets…" Dean sighed. "But don't expect me to give you a crown of flowers when you come back or some shit,"
"No, there's a Snapchat filter that'll do it for you,"
"Snap-what?"
"Forget it," Roman said quickly. "Everything good on the road?"
"Brand split's making everyone a bit antsy-looks like they're purposely holding out on telling us where we'll end up."
"You haven't had any hints?"
"I keep hearing SmackDown whenever my name's mentioned…" Dean said. "Nothing firm. And I've got the belt, so it goes where I go, theoretically."
"And how is the belt?"
"Heavier than I fucking thought," Dean said. "I haven't spilt beer or jerked off on it yet, though."
"I'm so fucking proud," Roman said dryly.
"Listen, the three of us are gonna have another tussle for it at Battleground, so...Seth and I thought it might be worthwhile for us to come down to Florida and work out some spots with you. You know, before you come back and get all swallowed up by the schedule again."
"That's a great idea, but…" Roman looked around. "I'm not in Florida right now, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Dean's voice sounded mildly disappointed. "You decide to get yourself a cabin in the woods and go full-on lumberjack?"
"I wish," Roman said. "I'm in Stamford right now."
"Headquarters? Why the fuck-are those bastards trying to haul your ass over the coals again?"
"No, Dean, nothing like that-" Roman sighed, knowing it was inevitable. "They didn't call me in. I'm with Hunter."
The silence that followed lasted a good five seconds before Dean managed another awkward "Oh…" into the receiver.
"I've been...staying with him in Orlando for the last two weeks," Roman continued. "He got called into a meeting at HQ a couple days ago, so...I went with him."
"I see…" Dean said. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he literally took you off the radar."
"Dean…" Roman rubbed at his eyes wearily. "He asked me to come down to Orlando. I said yes. It's simple as that,"
"No, Ro...it's not." Dean said, his voice insistently. "You sure that's how it went? He asked you? He didn't just throw down an offer he knew you wouldn't be able to refuse?"
Roman closed his eyes-times like these made him wish Dean wasn't so damn perceptive. "Dean…"
"You've been without him for months, Ro. You were doing just fine. You don't fucking need him,"
Roman gritted his teeth. "Maybe not, Dean...maybe I just want him. Is that so hard for you to get?"
"Oh, I get it just fucking fine, Ro…" Dean said. "I don't have to like it. Not after the mess he put you through earlier this year,"
"That's not on him, and you know it." Roman said defensively.
"Look, I'm just saying...if he cared that much about you, he should've done something, pulled some strings, throw some of that fucking corporate weight around to actually fix things for you."
"You think I'd have liked that?" Roman felt his voice rising in tone. "I don't need him to pull strings for me, I never needed anyone to pull any fucking strings for me-not here, not in The Shield, not back in fucking FCW when we were still in those stupid trunks and you wrestled half-drunk most of the time, okay? I don't want any strings pulled on my behalf, ever."
He heard a drawn-out exhale from the other end. "Okay...okay, back the fuck up. That came out wrong. I didn't mean it like that,"
Roman shook his head. "Just...let me have this, Dean...please? It's probably the best thing that's happened to me for a good long while."
Dean sounded incredulous. "Better than the belt?"
"Fuck that damn belt…" Roman snapped. "I won it in a shitstorm, and I've put up with that shitstorm ever since. Seeing you wear it after cashing in on Seth was the high point for me so far this year, and I'm more than happy to let you keep it."
"Ro…"
"I'm serious, Dean…"
"Yeah, I figured out as much three sentences ago," Dean said. "Look, the whole time you been messing around with Hunter, I kept my mouth fucking shut, okay? It's just hard to see you come back some nights, looking like you've been put through a blender, all those bruises on you that I know didn't happen out in the ring…"
Dean's voice sounded painfully earnest somehow, which made Roman's chest tighten.
"Sometimes you'd get up for a shower or something, and I'd look over to your bed to find blood on the sheets-what's a guy supposed to think, Ro?"
Roman stared down at his body. It had been a long time since Hunter roughed him up badly enough to cause him to bleed, but he could see the bites and bruises from last night already starting to turn blue.
"I know it's fucked up, Dean…"
"Well, so is volunteering your head to be curb stomped through cinder blocks…" Dean said wistfully. "I guess that makes us even…"
Roman sighed heavily. "I never meant to make it difficult for you."
"I ain't a guy who gets easily bothered by things, you know…and I've seen plenty of shit in my time," Dean said. "I know some people have their arrangements or whatnot, some even sign papers for this kind of relationship..."
"That's...that's not what this is," Roman said.
"Then what is it? Do you know? Does he know?"
Roman took another long glance around the room, at Hunter's clothes from yesterday draped over the back of a chair by the window, at the open suitcase on the floor which showed a row of neatly-folded shirts in muted tones of grey and pale blue. His cologne bottle was on the bedside table, next to the writing pad bearing the hotel's initials and the laminated paper with the list of TV channels. Even here, he was surrounded by everythingHunter . It had been the constant in his universe for the past two weeks, something he tethered himself to, something he was increasingly afraid he wouldn't be able to do without.
"Ro?"
"I don't fucking know, okay?" he said. "It is what it is, Dean…I don't have any illusions about riding off into the sunset or any bullshit like that. I just wanna enjoy what I've got, for as long as I've got it."
For a few moments, he heard nothing but the echo of his own breathing. Then Dean spoke again, his voice a little calmer and more even.
"Just...answer me this, Ro. Is he taking care of you?"
"Yeah, he is."
"Then I guess...that's all I need to know," Dean said.
"You don't sound convinced,"
"I don't have to be," Dean said. "If you say so, I gotta take your word for it."
"Dean…"
"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop worrying, or that I like it any more than I did before. But you're right-it ain't my fucking business, and if it gets you through whatever, then what's left for me to say? It's gotta be enough for me."
Roman stared up at the ceiling, feeling tired despite the early hour of the day. "Thanks…for checking up on me."
"Miss you around here," Dean said. "Can't wait for you get back."
"Yeah, I…" Roman's word caught halfway in his throat. He couldn't quite match Dean's sincerity, but tried it anyway. "I can't wait to get back, either."
He had a feeling Dean sensed his reluctance, but decided against pressing the issue. "You take care, Big Dog…we'll talk again soon."
"Bye."
Once Dean hung up, Roman tossed his phone on the mattress and sank his face into his hands, digging the heel of his palms into the corners of his eyes.
Then what is it? Do you know? Does he know?
It wasn't the first time he'd heard those questions. Often enough they'd echoed inside his own head, but hearing them spoken in Dean's voice, low and raspy and guttural, had made them all too real.
Roman stood up and walked towards the window, staring out at the rather dull and grey morning. Downtown Stamford afforded him a view of squat grey buildings mixed with Old World facades, making him miss the view out of Hunter's apartment, the quietly swaying palms and the joggers trudging across the pavement in their neon-bright gear.
Faintly, he heard the door to the suite swinging open, followed by a click of the lock seconds later.
"Roman?"
The sound of Hunter's voice always did something to him, even if it were something as simple as his own name. Roman had been following that voice for the better part of two years now, never questioning where it would take him. Now, he followed it out the bedroom and into the living room, where Hunter was setting down a white takeout box on the coffee table.
"Thought you had a morning session…"
"More like an informal breakfast at a restaurant downtown," Hunter said. "Try those pastries. They're good,"
Roman sat down and helped himself to a blueberry muffin that was about the size of his fist, catching crumbs with one hand as Hunter pulled out two takeaway cups of what smelled like fresh roast coffee.
"The coffee at HQ tasted like piss…" Hunter explained. "These are decent enough."
"Hmm…" Roman mumbled over a mouthful of chewy muffin.
Hunter, who had taken a seat on the couch next to him, seemed to notice his subdued mood. "You okay? Still sore from last night or something?"
Roman shook his head and swallowed. "It's fine…"
"Well, you definitely look like something's bothering you," Hunter pried the half-eaten muffin from his hand and set it back on the table. "What is it?"
Roman pulled his knees up to his chest. "Can I at least get some coffee first?"
"Sure," Hunter smiled at him. Roman watched as he uncapped one of the paper cups and put sugar in it-half a sachet, exactly how Roman liked it, and stirred it with a plastic spoon before handing it over, even blowing at it slightly to dispel some of the heat. Roman let some of the heat seep into his palms before drinking it, sipping at it gingerly so as not to scorch his tongue. Hunter helped himself to his own cup, which he took without sugar, one arm casually draped over Roman's shoulders.
If Roman closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that they were back in Orlando, watching overly-chipper morning talk show hosts on TV with the volume turned down, bathed in sunlight from the tall windows behind Hunter's desk. It was familiar enough to feel like it was a lifelong routine, even though they hadn't been doing it for more than two weeks.
Then again, what came before those two weeks was fading into a haze in Roman's mind, his points of recall reduced to a few choice highlights, like the crash of AJ Styles' forearm into his chest, Dean holding aloft a golden briefcase, and Seth's stupid mouth hanging open as he sold that moment for all it was worth. Even when he was in the thick of it, he'd felt more and more like a spectator, and truth be told he didn't mind all that much-he'd had his time in the spotlight already, and it hadn't amounted to much, really. Just a chorus of mounting disapproval that followed him from city to city, arena to arena, until the verdict came that would remove him from the ring altogether.
"You gonna tell me what's up?" Hunter's voice was gentle next to his ear, matched by the stroke of two calloused fingers down his cheek. Roman couldn't help but close his eyes to the sensation, trying to remember if anyone had touched him like this in living memory. Maybe Seth or Dean, in one of those rare Shield-era nights when they were feeling mellow and touchy-feely with each other, but Roman's skin didn't keep a record of their touches the way it seemed to do with Hunter, each contact recalling those that came before.
"Dean called," he said quietly. "He thought I was still in Pensacola-talked about coming down for a visit with Seth so we could work out a few spots for Battleground."
"Did you tell him where you are?"
"Yeah…" Roman shrugged. "Didn't feel the need to keep it from him."
Hunter sighed as he took another sip of his coffee. "I'm guessing he still fucking hates me, then."
"He doesn't hate you," Roman said. "He's not...totally comfortable with it, but hate's too strong a word."
"He's always worried about you," Hunter said. "Probably still thinks I'm bad for you."
"Yeah, well fuck what he thinks," Roman said sharply. "I don't care,"
Hunter regarded him closely. "Then why are you so upset?"
"I'm not,"
"Bullshit," Hunter said as he scooted closer and gently took the half-empty coffee cup from Roman's hand, setting it safely aside. "Come on, tell me…"
Hunter had a way of coaxing things from him, a gentle prod here and a prompting question there, one hand rubbing circles on Roman's lower back while the other lay warm and firm against his thigh. There was nothing forceful in his gestures, but there was no escape either. Inevitably, the words would have to come out one way or another.
"He asked me if I knew what I...what we are doing," Roman said. "If I even know what all of this means...if you know."
Hunter's expression wavered only slightly, like none of this came as a surprise to him. Roman couldn't decide if he found it a comfort or an annoyance, the fact that Hunter seemed to always be one step ahead of him. Then again, Hunter was the EVP of the company and Roman was a glorified circus performer whose act had gone stale.
"I used to think I know…" he continued. "It was simpler back then. Wasn't hard for me to explain, even to him. But it's not that anymore, is it?"
Hunter averted his gaze slightly, lower jaw working as he seemed to process the question. Roman's eyes were fixed on him, a gnawing sense of desperation starting suddenly in his gut. He wanted-no, he needed Hunter to have the answer.
"Well...what do you want it to mean?" Hunter asked, eyes still downcast.
Roman shook his head. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. "You really need to stop doing that…"
The hand on Roman's back froze as Hunter looked at him. "W-what?"
"I've told you, so many times…I don't want you to ask." Roman said. "I don't want to be asked. It beats the whole fucking purpose. I'm not here to call the shots, you are."
"Roman…"
"I need to hear it from you. Not the other way around," Roman continued, afraid he wouldn't get the words out if he stopped now. "You tell me what the fuck we're doing here, and I'll nod my head and play along, because that's how we both like it to be. Let's not pretend we're suddenly equals here just because shit's getting real."
Hunter withdrew like he'd been stung, and for a good few seconds Roman was afraid that he'd gone too far, that things had been broken beyond repair. The fear grew tenfold when Hunter stood up from the couch, and a cold sensation broke across the back of Roman's neck.
Great job, you idiot. Fucking genius move, there.
But Hunter only walked as far away as his briefcase, and Roman watched as he unlatched it and pulled out what looked like a small flat cardboard box, plain and unmarked, and brought it back to the couch. Roman could barely look him in the eyes as he sat back down, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the box in the older man's hand.
"I had this made for you earlier this year...around the same time I ordered Sami's sideplates," Hunter said, his voice calm and even. "Planned to give it to you during Wrestlemania weekend, but didn't seem like a good idea then…"
Roman swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest.
"I decided to pick it up this morning because I thought the time was finally right to give it to you," Hunter continued, opening the box's lid. "I guess my hunch was right."
For a few moments, Roman couldn't process what he was seeing. He saw a thick black band of braided leather, accented with silver clasps and something hanging from it like a pendant. He was still dumbstruck, moments later, when Hunter reached for his left ankle and pulled it onto his lap, tossing the box aside in the process.
Wordlessly, Hunter wrapped the band around Roman's ankle and fitted the clasps together, the pendant making a low jingling sound as he did so. It fit so snugly around him, like it was made for him and him alone, unlike store-bought watches or belts that always needed adjusting.
"The costume department still kept a set of your measurements from when you had your boots made…" Hunter explained further as he turned the band around Roman's ankle. "I just gave them to the jeweler so he could make the band just right for you."
When Roman could finally see the shape of the pendant, he finally let out the breath he'd been holding. It told him everything he needed to know.
A sterling silver 'H', large enough to not be dainty yet small enough to still be inconspicuous, dangling from a metal fitting looped around the braided leather. It was beautiful-probably the most beautiful thing Roman's seen in a long, long time.
"You know what this means…" Hunter spoke again, his voice low as his hands cradled Roman's newly-adorned ankle.
"I do…" Roman said. "I still wanna hear it from you, though."
"Okay…" Hunter relented. "Come here, first…"
Roman withdrew his ankle from Hunter's lap so he could move closer to him on the couch, letting two big, familiar hands take him in by the shoulders and pull him close. Hunter leaned back slightly, taking most of Roman's weight with him, letting him settle comfortably against his chest.
"You were right, this did start out a lot simpler," Hunter began. "I saw you, I wanted you, I went and got you. That was it. That's how it usually goes with the others, too-not just Seth, even the ones before him, the methods may vary but the endgame was always the same."
Roman just nodded slowly, his hand reaching up to fiddle with the buttons of Hunter's shirt, another habit he seemed to have developed over the last two weeks.
"When you asked if we could take a break after the Royal Rumble, I thought nothing of it…" Hunter said. "It made sense. We were about to get into a regular schedule of beating each other senseless, and I wanted to give you whatever space you needed to keep yourself together."
"I did a shitty job at keeping myself together," Roman said.
"And I ended up doing a shitty job at Wrestlemania," Hunter said. "Let's not sugar-coat it. I thought I still had it in me to carry a Main Event with you, but a massive ego is no substitute for being, say, five years younger."
Roman snorted a little. "I wasn't angry with you."
"I kinda wish you were," Hunter said, his pam resting warmly against Roman's back. "I was pissed with myself. All those times I'd roughed you up, smacked you around, bruised you to hell and back both out in the ring and in private...that was the one time I felt like I'd let you down."
Roman sighed, his index finger idly prying a button loose from its hole. Maybe he had been angry, just a little bit, though back then he'd directed most of it at the hostile crowds, or at himself, or at the unfortunate circumstances which left him as the company's poster boy for mishandled pushes. If he'd felt let down at all by Hunter, he couldn't remember acknowledging it to himself.
"Maybe I wanted to make it up to you, and I saw my chance when you got suspended. Or maybe...and this is more likely knowing the kind of guy that I am, I just wanted you back."
"Either way, you got me back," Roman said against Hunter's chest. "Doesn't really matter,"
"I want to keep you this time," Hunter said. "That's all I've been able to think about since you got in that limo with me at the airport."
Roman shuddered involuntarily, letting the ripple work its way down his body. "You're doing a pretty good job of it, so far…"
"It's not enough," Hunter said. "In a matter of weeks, you'll be back out there...and as much as I tell myself you'll do just fine, that it's where you belong, another part of me kinda wants to stay like this. Just like this. You and me, and nobody else."
"Yeah, same here…" Roman said. "Couldn't even lie convincingly when I was telling Dean that I was looking forward to coming back."
Hunter chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated through his chest. "What a mess we've made, huh?"
"Least it's ours," Roman said.
"Yeah…" Hunter agreed. "Yeah, it's ours."
For a while Roman just closed his eyes, focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of Hunter's chest. None of this felt like a revelation, just confirmation of things he probably already knew. There was no stirring piano music playing in his head, no sudden lightness in his being. Just the noise of traffic and the low hum of the room's air conditioner, an utterly mundane late morning in downtown Stamford where two guys just happened to finally decide to talk about their feelings.
"Yesterday was rough for me…" Hunter said, his fingers starting to coil in the strands of Roman's hair. "I had to sit there and listen as some of my hard work got taken apart, all these things I'd planned just thrown out of the window because Vince suddenly decided he wanted this guy or that girl on the main roster, and that was that."
"The more things change, huh?"
"Maybe he was trying to tell me something, you know? Maybe he was trying to remind me that it was still him calling the shots, that in the end it's still his company."
"It's gonna be you someday soon," Roman sighed against Hunter's chest. "You said so yourself."
"Not soon enough," Hunter said. "If anything, it just reminded me that for all the weight I throw around, there's so much I have no control of. What happens to guys when they move up, what happens when they get saddled with a gimmick that does nothing for them...what's gonna happen toyou ."
Roman could feel Hunter's fingers at the back of his neck, and he moved into the warmth of the touch without thinking, trying to surround himself with as much of Hunter as possible.
"I can control this, though...us. " Hunter said, pressing ever so slightly into the point of Roman's pulse. "I don't have to just ride it out or let time do what it will. I can decide this for us. I'm deciding for us now."
Roman dragged his leg to drape over Hunter's, rubbing the leather of his anklet against Hunter's calf, feeling like he could almost sob with relief. "Thank you…"
"You know why that thing's around your ankle, right?"
"Yeah…" Roman said. "Because you can't put it around my neck."
Hunter let out a long, heavy exhale, and suddenly Roman found himself flipped over until he was lying on his back on the couch. Hunter hovered above him, his weight pressed down the entire length of Roman's body, eyes clear and piercing.
"Let's just make this absolutely clear, shall we? You want me to call the shots, I'm calling it."
"Yes…" Roman nodded, letting Hunter take each of wrists and grip them tight.
"You...all of you," Hunter said slowly and deliberately. "...belong to me. "
"Yes…" Roman repeated, a slight shakiness creeping into his voice.
"I can't always be with you out there, on the road, and both of us will probably still be messing around with other people like we've always done...but it's always gonna be me you come back to, you understand?"
"Yes…" Roman said again, trying to fight off the thick haze starting to envelop him to focus on Hunter's voice.
"When you're alone with me, you'll be a good boy and do as I say, and you'll give me what I want, however I want it."
"Fuck, yes…" Roman hissed, his eyes falling shut. There was unmistakable heat coiling in his gut now, spreading quickly through his body, his wrists twitching helplessly in Hunter's grip.
"And I promise you, I'll make it worth your while," Hunter said. "Whenever you're with me, none of that bullshit out there matters. Nothing touches you, nothing hurts you. Just me."
Just you. Just you. It's only ever been you.
"I fucking love you, you know that?"
Roman's eyes flew open, but before he could say anything Hunter was kissing him, rough mouth and lips dry from all the talking, the sharp taste of coffee and a surge of something else altogether, messy and wet and overwhelming.
Fuck you, fuck you, at least let me say it back before you take my speech away, fuck you...
But Roman returned the kiss nonetheless, and realizing his hands were free he flung them around Hunter's neck to pull him down even further, doing the same with his legs around Hunter's waist. His thoughts were a rushing flood, half-words and feelings that flew by quicker than he could pin them down.
He had to wrench his mouth free in the end, gasping for air as his fingers raked through the coarse strands of Hunter's beard, grey-speckled and glistening.
"Love you too…" he managed to whisper, watching a smile bloom over Hunter's lips in reaction.
Nothing else matters. Nothing touches me. Nothing hurts me. Just you.
If he were more of a romantic he guessed he might have been disappointed at the lack of fanfare, at how fucking inevitable it all seemed. The last two years of building up to this, the last two weeks of dancing around it while they all but lived some kind of domestic fantasy together, all this claim of ownership and obedience and finally, fucking finally, just that simple admission.
"How about we go all-out cliche and seal this whole deal with a fuck?" Hunter said.
"Jesus, thought you'd never get to it," Roman snorted. "Yeah."
The bed had gotten cold in their absence but it soon warmed up to them again, Hunter climbing on the bed on his knees as soon as he'd discarded the last of his clothes. Roman lifted his left leg and Hunter caught it, bringing Roman's ankle close to his mouth so he could trace his mouth around the leather strap that encircled it so snugly.
Hunter took longer to prepare him this time than he did last night, opening him up with fingers until Roman was fucking himself furiously down onto them, working his hips as Hunter's lube-coated digits made slick noises against his hole on every thrust. All the while Hunter watched him unravel, keeping his fingers still and letting Roman work himself into a frenzy, until he mercifully pulled out and replaced the fingers with his cock.
Roman knew from the very first time, his first time, that he'd never get tired of the feeling of Hunter's cock inside him. He'd never done this with anybody else, and maybe he never will. That feeling of being filled up completely until he was fit to burst, the heat and tightness of it splitting him open, just never got old.
Thankfully, Hunter wasn't in the mood to play games once he was inside. He went straight into it, fucking Roman with a pace that felt like it would pulverize him, the obscene sounds of wet flesh matched only by the ungodly moans Roman couldn't keep from wrenching his throat.
Hunter was all over him, mouthing at his neck, sucking at his collar bone, teeth scraping over his nipples until they were raw and swollen, like he'd done so many times before, like he'd undoubtedly do many times over again. Roman was too far gone to take any mental notes, to see if anything worked any differently now that things had been let out into the open, but it all just felt so familiar and close, so easy to lose himself in, and that's exactly what he did.
They came nearly together, Roman into Hunter's fist and Hunter mere seconds later, and Roman felt like he'd been wrung dry, throat parched and ears ringing. Hunter stayed inside him as they both came down, holding him through the convulsions of aftershocks that rocked them both, his sweat dripping down onto Roman's body. In the bright sunlight coming from the window, Roman could see Hunter's skin taking on the reddish tinge of exertion, his brows tightly drawn across his forehead.
Wordlessly, Hunter pulled out and situated himself on his side, pressing his chest against Roman's back and a flinging a big, sweaty arm across his waist. Common sense would probably say that a shower was in order, or at least some kind of wipe-down, but common sense had no place in whatever they'd just agreed to, and Roman was okay with that. He didn't need it. He had Hunter.
"Yesterday you said...we have the rest of the day off?" he asked once his voice had returned.
"Yeah…" Hunter said against the back of his neck. "I think I'll just spend the rest of it right here."
"Fine by me," Roman muttered. He wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon, everything still too intense and prickly, so he settled for simply lying there and letting it all sink in, the weight of Hunter's arm around him, the knee that was wedged between his wet thighs, the sound of Hunter's breathing so close to his ear, the leather band around his ankle. The old, the new, the things previously simmering below that had now been pulled up to the surface, and the mental countdown that didn't quite have the same ominous ring as it had before.
Seventeen days.
When they finally made it back to Hunter's apartment in Orlando the following day, the first thing they did-before they'd even unpacked-was run a hot bath in Hunter's large tub and settle in for a long soak, Roman sitting snugly in the space between Hunter's legs. It was such a relief to be home, surrounded by familiar sounds and smells, the comforting ripples of water against his skin and Hunter's chin resting on his shoulder.
"I'll get a spare keycard made for you," Hunter said. "Feel free to stay here whenever you feel like it, don't have to wait for me."
"Cool…" Roman said as he sank deeper into the water, his left leg dangling over the rim of the tub. He hadn't taken the anklet off since Hunter had put it on him, and didn't intend to do so until he absolutely had to-probably once he was traveling with the roster again. Wouldn't do for his colleagues to notice that he was wearing a piece of jewelry with his boss' initials on it.
"Think you're gonna tell Ambrose about all this?" Hunter asked quietly. "He did ask the question, after all…"
"I don't know…" Roman shrugged. "Not sure having an answer would put him at ease,"
"Did it put you at ease, at least?"
"Fuck, yeah…" Roman said, shifting a little in the tub so he could face Hunter. "Like...I didn't realize how badly I needed to know exactly where I stood with you until I asked, but I'm glad I did. It's all clear now."
"Good," Hunter said as he pressed his thumb against Roman's chin. "Because I don't ever want you to question it again."
"I won't…" Roman said. "I promise."
The night went slowly for them after that, a quiet dinner followed by Hunter working at his desk while Roman curled up in bed with his tablet, watching the first episode of an exhaustive PBS documentary about the history of New York City. He'd gotten as far as the part about George Washington's retreat during the Revolutionary War when Hunter finally joined him, stifling a yawn as he got under the covers.
Roman switched off the bedside light, reaching in the darkness until he could find the warmth of Hunter's body, pressing himself close against it.
"You good, baby boy?" Hunter said as he drew the blankets up over them, his other hand cradling the back of Roman's head.
"Better than I've ever been…" Roman said. He meant it.
They hit the halfway mark, fifteen days, and Hunter's playful streak made itself known again. He made Roman sit on his lap all morning long, buck naked save for the leather band around his ankle, as Hunter sat at his desk and did his usual business, signing papers and writing e-mails and taking phone calls. Roman had his chest pressed flush against Hunter's, the crisp material of the older man's business shirt rubbing against his bare skin, seated in all his naked glory right in front of the tall window that let the sunshine through.
He wasn't there to enjoy the view, though-Hunter always had one hand free and it went to town on Roman, fondling his ass and even smacking it whenever he got distracted, pinching just for the sake of teasing and making Roman grind down on his lap.
Roman was painfully hard throughout, his cock rubbing torturously against the buckle of Hunter's belt and slicking it with pre-come, and he could feel Hunter's own erection just under the material of his pants. Hunter kept his composure, though, casually going about his business as if Roman wasn't there, purposely avoiding his gaze like he was nothing more than an oversized piece of corporate toy.
Hunter took a call from the production office down at Full Sail, something about getting some extra seating in for the Cruiserweight Classic finals, and a few minutes into that utterly mundane conversation Roman felt a finger sneaking between his asscheeks and breaching his entrance, teasing him open. It took every bit of self-control for him not to cry out, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood, grinding down on Hunter's finger slowly like the world's laziest lapdancer.
He was so open like this, so exposed, he could feel the heat of sunlight through the glass against his bare skin, Hunter's voice utterly detached from what his hand was doing to Roman's body, and it was almost overwhelming.
"If you need an extra camera crew, we could always ask the school," Hunter said, his finger jabbing deep and nearly knocking Roman off his perch. "I'm sure those kids would love the extra summer credits…"
During the pause in which the other person spoke, Hunter moved his mouth away from his phone just enough to be able to latch onto Roman's left nipple, pulling the bud between his teeth until Roman could feel tears in the corners of his eyes. He was so hard, Hunter had been teasing him like this for hours now, he was ready to shoot at any moment, but he couldn't, not until Hunter said he could.
"Yeah, update me once you hear back from them okay? Thanks, bye." Hunter hung up and put his phone back on the desk.
Roman's head was lolling against Hunter's shoulder by this point, breathing heavy, desperate for some kind of attention.
"Aww, look at you…" Hunter said mock-sweetly, brushing strands of sweaty hair away from Hunter's neck. "Did I get you all worked up, baby?"
"Uh-huh…" Roman nodded.
Hunter worked another finger into him, the stretch causing Roman to gasp. "Fucking beautiful... all sweaty and naked and hot for me, my own little slut…"
Roman mewled at that, hands resting on Hunter's shoulder. "Please…"
"Yeah, you like it when I do this, don't you?"" Hunter ran his mouth down Roman's trembling neck. "Get you all hot and bothered, begging for it…"
Roman nodded enthusiastically, shutting his eyes against the sunlight that was bright enough to blind him.
"You'll get my cock later, after I'm finished working," Hunter said firmly. "For now, you can rub yourself off on me like the slut that you are. Come on, now."
Shaking with relief, Roman started to move in earnest, grinding against Hunter, seeking any kind of friction on his painfully hard cock. It was the rub of the coarse leather of Hunter's belt on his sensitive underside that finally did it, sending him sputtering and moaning aloud, holding on to the armrests to stop himself from falling off.
Once he was spent, Hunter scooped him up and carried him like he weighed nothing, walking the short distance between his desk and the living room couch and dumping Roman onto it.
"Keep that ass where I can see it," he whispered in Roman's ear before walking back towards his deck, utterly unbothered by the fact that his shirt and pants were soiled with Roman's release.
Roman curled himself up on the couch, keeping his backside in Hunter's full view, wondering how he must have looked, naked and shaking, hole glistening wet from Hunter's fingering and belly splattered with his own come.
But Hunter barely looked at him for the next ten minutes, palming his cock casually through his damp pants as he worked on his laptop, even starting to hum a little tune as Roman lay there waiting for him, presenting himself.
Roman felt like he could cry in relief when Hunter finally stood, already unzipping as he walked towards the couch. He was pulled down to the carpet and Hunter mounted him from behind, fucking him on his elbows and knees with his head on the floor.
It was too soon for Roman to get hard again, but that was beside the point. Hunter was fucking into him just how he liked it, rough and fast and unrelenting, hands gripping at his hips for leverage. The pendant hanging from Roman's anklet jingled in rhythm to their movements, a tiny noise that reminded him of his place.
He belonged here.
He belonged to Hunter.
He wouldn't want it any other way.
Outside of sex, Hunter wasn't particularly strict about maintaining the power balance-or imbalance, as it were. Their cohabitation went pretty much the same way it had before they'd gone to Connecticut-sharing household tasks like dealing with dirty laundry or doing the dishes, taking turns in the shower or in the gym, eating takeout dinners in front of the TV, squabbling over who used up the last bit of toothpaste. The contrast between this utterly mundane existence and the stuff they did in bed, or wherever else Hunter wanted to do it, should've been nothing short of whiplash-inducing, but Hunter never once left Roman confused or uncared for, always making sure he knew exactly what was expected of him.
Then day twenty rolled by, and Hunter went a little berserk.
Roman literally couldn't leave the bed all day, being given only enough respite to catch his breath slightly and recover before Hunter would be ready to go again. Roman didn't know whether he wanted to curse or thank whoever had put Hunter on his current exercise regime, because clearly the man had more stamina than most men half his age, and Roman was bearing the brunt of it.
By the end of it all Roman was completely exhausted and boneless, their bed was a fucking mess, and he was beginning to believe that you could, in fact, fuck someone into unconsciousness.
Hunter soon returned with a warm washcloth and a bottle of water, letting Roman drink as he wiped down his body, checking ever so diligently for any unwanted damage.
"How you feeling?" Hunter asked, sounding mildly apologetic.
"As long as I don't need to walk anywhere for another couple of days, I'll be fine…" Roman said. "You'll have to carry my fat ass around, I'm afraid."
"Gladly," Hunter smiled and tossed the washcloth aside, leaning down to kiss Roman's forehead. "You did so good for me…"
Roman purred happily at the praise, the ache in his bones momentarily forgotten.
On day twenty-seven, Roman's phone started coming alive with work-related things again. An appointment for one last drug test to clear his way back to the main roster. E-mails outlining his program for the next few weeks, draft scripts for backstage promos. Schedules for autograph signings and company events.
He put in more hours in the gym, Hunter thoughtfully giving him more time and space there as he tried to regain his conditioning. Outwardly there wasn't much that was different about Roman's appearance, but he knew he'd lost some of his muscle strength with his lapse in training. Hunter made a passing joke about Roman's sphincter probably being the most well-trained muscle in his body right now and nearly got a dumbbell thrown in his face for it.
On the evening of day twenty-eight, Hunter dressed him in a deep red button-down shirt and a pair of black denims and took him out to a sushi restaurant, where he sat back and watched amusedly as Roman proceeded to eat his way through what was probably half the contents of the restaurant's storeroom, quietly slipping the waiter his credit card without letting Roman even peek at the numbers on the bill.
When they got back home, Roman was still feeling full and sluggish as Hunter undressed him and coaxed him onto the bed, following it up by fucking him as slowly and deliberately as he'd ever done, every motion long and drawn out, like it was meant to never end. It came as a bit of a shock to Roman when he finally climaxed, almost as an afterthought, drowning in the thick haze of Hunter's voice and the gentleness of his hands.
The end, when it finally came, didn't feel so much like an end, after all.
Roman had decided to leave his suitcase and most of his clothes behind, wanting to have something there for his next stay, so he was leaving Orlando with little more than the clothes he was wearing and his belongings stuffed in a backpack.
Hunter slipped the spare keycard in the back pocket of his jeans and kissed him goodbye at the door, muttering something about letting him know as soon as he was back in Pensacola, and how he was going to try to catch up with the touring roster as soon as he'd taken care of a few things down at NXT.
The ride to the airport and the flight home was uneventful, and by four in the afternoon on day thirty, Roman was back in his half-furnished place in Pensacola, staring at the framed portraits lying slanted against the wall that he hadn't had time to properly hang, and the faint covering of month-old dust over his second-hand leather couch.
Roman sighed, tossing his backpack to the floor. He had a medical tomorrow and an appointment with the trainers straight after, so he might as well get his gear prepared and figure out what he was going to eat tonight.
Before getting down to that, though, Roman pulled out his phone and pressed Hunter's name on his contact list. It barely rung twice before it was picked up.
"Hey…" the familiar voice said. "You home?"
Roman looked around, smiling wistfully. "I was… "
.
.
.