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Even the door of John's hotel room is nicer than Roman's. That pisses him off. They're headlining Summerslam, the two of them. Not just fucking Cena. Roman is the head of the table. This is his show. It's been his.
He swallows it down. Grinds it beneath the sole of his brand new shoe. It's a nice shoe. White sole and everything.
"Door's open," Cena says, in that big bright voice of his. Motherfucker. He sounds like a megaphone announcer. Like a cartoon.
Roman shrugs it off. It's just another squared circle. He knows how to keep up. Cena is the one who should be on his back foot.
The door is cracked. He rests his palm against it. One push. One step.
It's a nice suite. Big living room, with a big TV and a nice couch, some end tables, some arm chairs. Flowers, for some reason, on the table by the window. The arrangement is tasteful, eye-catching.
The blinds are drawn, obviously. It's late.
John's sitting in a big armchair, fully dressed. Nice suit, tie loose at the collar. Probably custom. It looks wrong on him, not bright enough. John is all primary colours, full saturation. Not charcoal gray and a muted tie.
Hollywood, Roman thinks, with venom.
"Have a seat," John says. His knees are splayed wide apart. His grin should make him look goofy but it doesn't.
Seth is next to him, on all fours on the carpet. He's naked. There's a beer bottle resting on the knob of his spine, condensation beading on the glass and dripping as Roman watches down to Seth's skin.
Roman thinks it's unlike John not to use a coaster. It is unlike John not to use a coaster. John's a freak about that shit, everyone knows.
John's a freak about a lot of shit.
Pot, kettle, maybe. Roman knew he wasn't coming up to talk about Summerslam.
John smirks. Fuckin chiclet ass teeth. If Roman thinks about that he won't think about Seth.
Seth doesn't move. A slight shiver ripples along his back. Might be the AC.
"Can I get you a drink?" John asks. "You can get yourself a drink. Same guy's paying for it."
Roman doesn't roll his eyes. He goes to the bar, though, pours himself a Balvenie neat. The same guy is paying for it. No more shared hotel rooms on his own dime; no more arm-wrestling Dean for the floor when they'd come back drunk, Seth already asleep in the middle of the bed.
John is drinking his beer when Roman turns back, legs stretched out in front of him, an easy smile at the corners of his mouth. He has one hand on Seth's neck, fingers tangled in his hair. Holding him there. "Nice," he offers.
"Same to you." Roman settles into the other chair, allowing his eyes to skim over Seth for a moment.
Seth shivers under John's hand. He loves to be the centre of attention, always has.
Roman checks, anyway. Puts his hand down in front of Seth's face, lets Seth nuzzle into it. He got in the habit of checking after Hunter. Even when he didn't like Seth Seth was still theirs, his and Dean's. Jon's. Fucking Jon.
"I probably owe you a thank you," John says, putting his beer back on Seth's skin. "It was breaking up with you two that got him on my dick the first time."
"You're welcome," Roman growls. It doesn't sound like his voice. He takes his hand back, steps back.
Seth bites his lip. His fingers press into the carpet. The bottle trembles, but doesn't fall.
"Seth," John snaps.
"Sorry, sir," Seth says, drawing a breath and tightening the muscles in his back. His breath comes in soft pants, eyelashes fluttering wet and bright. His dick is chubbed up, pressing at his thigh.
Roman hasn't fucked him in a long time, it's true. He remembers how Seth liked it, though. Like leaping from the top rope, just on the wrong side of too much.
"Hunter got the better of you there, didn't he?" John is smiling.
Seth whines under his breath. His hair has fallen to frame his face, dark and wild. It hasn't yet begun to frizz.
"Shh," John says, resting a reproving hand on Seth's shoulderblade. "The big boys are talking."
Seth's eyes flash, but he doesn't speak. He hangs his head, closing his eyes, taking a deep, steady breath.
"Hunter said he had a sweet piece of ass," John says, reflecting. "I thought he was full of it, but I said sure anyway. Randy dropped him off, spitting mad. I thought he was gonna bite my dick off. He didn't, though. Went down easy as anything." He rubs his thumb along Seth's neck, tucking the ball against the hinge of Seth's mouth. "Just needed someone to show him who's boss."
Seth opens his mouth, well trained. His tongue laps at John's thumb, eyes lowered to the carpet.
Roman swallows it back. "Been so long since you were doing real work," he says. "You gotta bring up ancient history?"
John barks a laugh. "Here I thought I was just making conversation."
Roman drinks his drink. Seth, this quiet? It's a treat. Seth doesn't shut up. Seth gets in the way, like he did at Money in the Bank. Like he always has.
That's not fair. Roman knows that's not fair. Seth was the Architect.
"Baby," he says, ignoring John. "How are you doing down there?"
Seth frowns at the pet name, doesn't look up. His tongue darts out of the corner of his mouth. His shoulders tremble.
John laughs. "Nobody here's a rookie, Big Dog."
Roman wants to punch him. Tomorrow. God, that's gonna feel good. Right in his smug fucking face. "He has a match tomorrow."
"I'll get him there." John's face doesn't move. "We've been doing this a long time."
It's just a headfuck. Like John said Dean's name, like Roman said Nikki's. It's all part of the game. Roman can hang with the best of them. Roman is the best of them.
"How long?" Roman should have known. It's stupid. He did know. It was always in the back of his mind. Dean would always make a face at the idea of it, like he did about all of Seth's bad decisions.
Seth whines, trembling. His dick presses against his belly, wet and hard.
"On and off," John says. "I'm busy. I don't have time. He's a good fuck, but the maintenance is a bitch. He's already back in bad habits." He pets Seth's hair with a little tenderness.
Seth leans into John's hand, like a cat. The long, easy line of him, the sweetness in his face. Roman wants -
"All right," John says. He takes his beer off Seth's back and waves his other hand, sweeping, across the hotel room. "Go on, baby."
Seth looks along the floor. Not up at Roman, but at Roman's feet. Baby brother, Roman thinks, dumbly. Seth hasn't been that in a decade. Even then it was a rib more than anything. All three of them knew it was Seth keeping them afloat.
"Do I have to?" he asks. His voice is lighter, softer than usual.
John says, "Seth." It snaps through his voice, like a rubber band on Seth's shoulders.
Seth flinches. "Please," he says, the softness in his voice shifting, becoming sharp. "Not in front of - "
"He knows exactly who you are," John says. "Tell him, Reigns. You can't afford to lose him, either."
"Fuck you," Roman says. "Do it, Seth." He doesn't use this tone with Seth. He talks like this to pretty much everyone, now - it's his world, this is how you keep everyone in line - but not Seth. Except here.
Seth's eyes glimmer. "Fine," he says. He inclines his head, like a taunt.
"Seth," John drawls.
Seth swallows and picks himself up. It takes a second for his body to remember it's upright. Drapes his long body over the arm of the couch. It's a nice couch, Roman thinks. White, modern.
Seth's back is nice, too. Crossfit. The tattoo. Before they were anything, Roman remembers seeing the line of him, and thinking, oh.
His dick catches up to his brain. Seth is naked, pressing himself against the furniture, because John snapped his fingers. Seth moves like water, like something beautiful. He's turned his head. He's looking at John, wide-eyed, needy.
"Sir," Seth repeats. Begging, this time.
"No, baby," John says, firmly. He shrugs at Roman, as if to say, what can you do? "Hole, please."
Seth tosses his head, biting down on his lip. But he puts his hands behind his back, pressing open his ass, prying open his cheeks with both hands.
John makes a show of peering, craning his neck from his chair. "Good enough?" he asks Roman.
Seth trembles. The back of his neck is dark pink, like a sunburn.
Roman leans over, resting his elbows onto his knees. "I don't know," he says. He doesn't know what's come over him. Except that it's Seth. "What am I looking for here?"
John blinks, startled for a moment, then the grin spreads back across his face. "There he is," he says. He snaps his fingers and Seth whimpers, but he spreads his legs wide, so Roman can see his hole, pink and tight. "He's been empty all day. Loves to complain about it, like I didn't fuck him right before he went out tonight."
Roman sucks in a breath at the thought of it: Seth wide-eyed, overwhelmed, just taking it. Wearing those fingerprints on his skin underneath that goddamn suit.
Dean used to do that, when they went out in the tac vests and Seth would flip for the crowd before the show even started. Dean would bite Seth's nipples, the insides of his thighs, dragging his teeth along sensitive skin until it was red and raw. Seth was always better those nights, like nothing could touch him. He always went down like a dream after, too. Right there under Dean's hands.
Seth humps slowly at first, reluctantly. It isn't graceful. He stops and starts, looking nervously at John between breaths.
"You know how he is," John says. "Full of opinions."
Roman swallows. He sips his scotch.
"Tell him, Seth." John spreads his legs wider. Roman can see the hard outline in the suit, but he's not moving, Roman isn't moving. They're both frozen, Seth the only sound in the room.
"I can't," Seth moans, agonised. "Please. I can't."
John hums, low. "Now, Seth. Or I swear to god I'll get Edge right now. I'll put you on his cock and make you swallow his piss. You think I won't?"
Roman can't breathe.
John's voice drops. Craters. "He'd love it. Probably send me a fruit basket. Anything to get you underneath him. Funny, right? Because it's where you belong."
Seth whimpers. His hips rub harder, in stuttering desperate bursts. "I'm not allowed to -" He sobs. "I have to learn."
"Have to learn what, baby?"
"My -" Seth sobs. "It's not for me to get off." Tears drip out of the corners of his eyes. "When I get hard, I have to learn. That it won't feel good. It's not for me."
Roman could just get up, right now. He could pick Seth up, put him over his shoulder. They could leave.
Seth isn't Bloodline. He doesn't belong to Roman. Roman never offered, Seth never asked. Maybe the other way around.
Seth belongs to Cena, right now. If Dean - Jon - were here, he'd pull Seth right off. He wouldn't think about it. He'd know Seth belonged with him.
But Seth doesn't belong with Jon, because Jon is somewhere else, in a parallel universe. Seth belongs with Roman, because Roman stayed.
He shakes his head. "Does it hurt?"
"Probably," John says. "Smack your balls, honey, you're getting too comfortable."
Seth protests wordlessly, twisting his head, spreading his legs wider, appealing. His hair tangles around his face. Roman almost lost to Edge, but Seth was there, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, with that same electric feral brightness in his face.
Roman wouldn't have lost to Edge. He wouldn't have. Seth just loves to get involved, even when he shouldn't. He thinks Roman can't stand on his own.
Seth's eyes catch Roman's. He's pleading, desperate; like Roman owes him, or something. Like Roman is going to intervene.
"Do it," Roman says.
Seth gasps, but maybe it's Roman's voice, maybe it's Roman's confidence that pushes him into it. He fumbles with his palm, pushing himself upright to get enough leverage. The first strike is wet, muted, but his whole body ripples in shock, eyes flashing in startled hurt.
"He has to learn," John says. He sips the drink that's still in his hand. "He keeps thinking that it's going to feel good if he tries to fuck with it. Don't you, puppy?"
Seth makes a broken, bitten off sound. He hits himself again, harder. Curls up against it, panting with the effort. "Please," he says. "It hurts now. It hurts a lot."
Roman could put Seth down right here, right now. It would be so easy to fuck right into him. He's letting Cena play games with him? Roman is right here. Roman's always been here.
"Stupid little slut," John says, mouth twisting in amusement. "He's a good hole when he's not distracted, I bet you know how it is. He wanted a cage. Begged for it, even. Once a cheater always a cheater. Hands off now, back at it."
"I wouldn't," Seth whines, but he takes his hands back gratefully, pushing himself forward again. "That's not -"
"You're a hole, baby," John says, fake-nice, scorn dripping from his voice. "It feels good when I fuck you. When a cock fucks you. Not when you rub your little clit. That's not for anybody, baby. So you might as well make it hurt."
Seth gasps. He works the flat of his hand over his asshole, rubbing back onto it, like if he tries hard enough it might get inside him. His legs shake. "Please," he says. "You can fuck me now, I'll be good. I won't touch it."
"Beg me," John says. He rubs his palm over the bulge in his pants. "Make it worth my while."
"I'm so tight," Seth says. "I'm empty, sir, my cunt is-" he swallows, the last vestige of shame dragging at his voice. "It hurts. It feels bad."
"Mm," John says. "That's what we like to hear. Okay, honey. Ruin it."
Seth cries out again and pulls himself off, too fast, so fast his knees give out and he crumbles to the floor, even as his dick spurts miserably, abandoned. It looks like it hurts, red from the friction, still hard.
Roman hears his own breath sharp in his ears, overwhelming. He doesn't move.
"Please," Seth begs, falling onto his back and pulling his legs apart. "Please, please. Need - come." His fingers hold his cheeks open, showing off his tight little hole.
He's fucking out of it, Roman thinks. He gets halfway out of his seat before he pushes himself down again.
"Good boy," John praises. He does get up, padding across the floor to reach down, tightening his fingers in Seth's hair. His grip is so fierce it looks painful. Seth moans, leaning into it, desperate. He looks like he might come if John would allow it, just from that brutal touch.
"You can fuck his mouth, Roman. If you'd like. It's the closest he'll get to an orgasm."
"Please," Seth sobs again. "I need it. Need you."
"Not his -" Roman pauses, letting his eyes settle on Seth for long enough that even Seth, as out of it as he is, squirms under the attention. "Not his cunt?"
John pulls Seth's head down to his own groin, where Seth gasps and starts to lick, mouth dampening the fabric. "That's forward of you," he says.
Roman shrugs. He doesn't touch himself but it's close. He has to tighten his hand in on itself. "Just following your lead."
Seth groans, fumbling at John's fly with his teeth. John's hand is holding him upright, but he's clumsy anyway, hands clasped behind his back, fingers digging into each other so tight they're white with effort.
There's a messy, dirty sound as Seth chokes on John's dick. John grins, dragging Seth all the way down until his nose is pressed into John's skin. "You sure?" John asks. "He's good. I bet you know that."
Roman digs his fingers into his thigh. Seth is mewling around John's cock but he hasn't pulled off, hasn't moved. Roman wonders what he did the first time he fucked John, if John was like this. If Seth asked for it, or if John did.
John drags him off. Smacks Seth's face with his dick, smearing pre across his flushed face, his beard.
Seth blinks up at him, dumb and vulnerable. "Please," he says.
"Oh, honey," John says. He sinks down onto the couch, pulling Seth's hair with him. "You know Roman doesn't like missionary." But he eases up, pulls his pants down to his thighs, managing to make it look controlled instead of clumsy.
Seth makes this soft, broken sound. He slides down into the carpet, tipping his wet face up at John. "Can I? Please?"
"You have to work for it," John says. "Do you think you can do that?" He doesn't wait for Seth to answer, just grabs him by the hair and turns him around, until his ass is pressed against John's thighs, and he's groaning with it. "Prove that you want it, sweetheart."
Seth sobs. He reaches back, guiding John into him with shaking hands. He looks impossibly tight; has to stop, shaking, to wipe his face with his hand and breathe in deep while John just spreads his legs and waits.
"He has a tight cunt," John says, resting his hand on Seth's back, over the tattoo, while Seth works himself in desperate little shifts. "Makes it worth the effort. You just have to tire him out first, so he doesn't get any ideas."
Finally Seth gets himself all the way onto John's cock, bracing his forearms against the carpet with his ass tipped up, face flushed red as he gasps into it. "Oh," he says. "Please, I-" His hand opens and shuts, grabbing at the carpet.
"Shh," John says, reaching down to gather Seth's hands and pin them to the small of his back. "No, you can't rub your clit anymore, baby. You already got yours. I want mine, and Roman is our guest, so you better be hospitable to him, too."
Seth sighs, eyelids fluttering shut. "Roman? Please? I'll be so good."
Roman's on his feet. He didn't mean to be.
The arch of Seth's back is different in the light, deeper. Maybe it's just that Roman is so hard it's making him dizzy.
He reaches out, gets his own hand in Seth's hair. It's coarse. He hasn't been using the shampoo Roman bought him when they rode together. He doesn't say anything.
Seth sways towards him. His lips part, wet from John's dick. He's panting from fucking himself on John's thighs.
Roman doesn't plan to do it. He just- brings up his hand, slaps Seth's face with a sharp crack. Maybe he is mad. About Edge, about John, all the way back to that cash in, to the steel chair.
"Hey," John says. "Cameras." He doesn't move. He hasn't, all this time.
It was more sound than weight, and John's groaning anyway because whatever it was made Seth tighten right up, Roman can see that in his face, his bare chest, the ripple of his thighs.
He catches Seth's cheek, pulls his face up so the curve of Seth's back is even more pronounced. "Tell me you want it."
"Rome," Seth sighs. His name sounds - he wanted to hear it. Had to. "Please. Of course I want it. Wanna choke on you, wanna make you feel so good. Please."
He fucks back against John, rocking back and forward like a wave. Really getting into the rhythm of it, and Roman can hear Seth's dick slapping against his own skin.
"Shh," Roman says, dipping his thumb into Seth's mouth, holding back a gasp as Seth latches on, eagerly lapping at the web of his thumb. "Hey. John. I want to give him a choice."
John chuckles, only a little breathless. "Sure," he says. "Why not." He pulls Seth's hips to a stop, grinding into him fast and dirty, lets go of Seth's hands so he can push his shoulders off the floor and brace himself onto all fours again.
"Seth," Roman says, pushing Seth's hair out of his face so he can look up into Roman's eyes; though he tries to look down Roman doesn't let him. "I'll jerk you off if you want. I bet he doesn't let you do much of that, huh? Not a real good come. I won't ruin it or anything, it'll feel so good. You can rub your clit against my hand, as fast or as slow as you want. You know I can get you there. If John doesn't mind maybe I'll even lick it a little."
Seth sobs, turns to look at John.
John raises one shoulder, drops it. His conditioning really is no joke. "Yeah, baby. If Roman wants to do that I won't stop him. You better ask what he gets in exchange." His expression - amused, tolerant, but just barely - says it better be good.
"Rome?" Seth's eyes meet his, then. Bright and hopeful.
"Nothing big," Roman says. "I'll just be too tired to fuck your mouth after. Might just have to leave."
Seth's expression crashes. He lets out a tiny wail, pressing his face into the carpet, rolling his hips in one long frustrated motion onto John's cock. "Rome," he says, almost snaps. "No."
John spanks his right ass cheek, so hard the sound rattles through Roman's ears. "What did you just say?"
Seth cries out, but he doesn't wriggle away, submits to John's hand on the back of his neck and the other, crashing down on his other cheek. "I'm sorry," he says, panting, eyes streaming. "Whatever you want, Rome. But please let me make you come."
It's enough to crash through the barest self restraint Roman has left. He gets himself out of his pants, Seth's eyes stuck on him, staring. His hand feels good, he's been holding himself back so tightly for what feels like forever.
Seth whines, straining towards him. "Roman," he says.
"He offered you a choice," John says, smirking now. "Be polite."
Seth swallows. "Thank you," he says. "Can I make you come, please?"
"You sure?" Roman teases. He reaches down, rubbing his palm over Seth's bare belly. He's softer than he used to be, but Roman likes it. He feels Seth's muscles jump at his touch, as he presses one finger to the head of Seth's dick.
Seth yelps, holding himself so fucking still. "I'm sure," he says, breathless, but Roman can feel how badly he wants to rut against Roman's hand, can see it in his clenched jaw, the shiver of his thighs.
"Okay," Roman says. He pulls his hand back and slaps Seth's dick, just once, but so hard Seth yells, betrayal rolling through his body and his face. "You know what that's for, baby. It's to make John feel good. You feel good, John?"
"Great," John says, grinning, wide chiclet smile bright across his smug face. "He got real tight on that one, didn't you, honey?"
Seth growls, shaking his head as he stares at Roman's shoes. But he keeps fucking himself on John's cock, keeps shifting back and forth on the carpet while John leans back into the couch. "You didn't have to," he says. "I would have -"
"I know," Roman says. He drops a kiss to the top of Seth's sticky head. "I wanted to."
Seth whines at that, like he can't help it. He opens his mouth and fuck - it's time, Roman's been spending too much time with Cena, he talks too much.
He pulls Seth's mouth onto his cock, holding him there like John did. Dean used to say that Seth's bullshit was all worth it on your dick, and he was right. Hot, tight, fucking sweet, like Seth back before he betrayed them, when Roman thought he was the sweetest person in the fucking business. Too smart for Dean, too smart for Roman.
Seth protests after a moment, but not to be difficult. Roman knows what Seth sounds like when he's being difficult and what he sounds like when he's being sweet. This is sweet. It's Seth, tapping his hand on Roman's thigh because he wants Roman to let him work.
Roman lets him do it. He anchors his hand in Seth's hair, though. Maybe that's more for him. Maybe that matters.
Seth's good. He's always good, especially when he's down like this. Even if he's with someone Roman would rather throw than trust.
John's eyes are hot. Roman doesn't understand him. He never has, not even from the beginning. They should understand each other but John is a boy scout and Roman has never wanted to be.
He looks down at Seth instead, the way the bow of his back is a tight line between John and Roman, the way he pushes himself forward and back, like he's not in his body anymore, like there's only one purpose to him and it's this.
The orgasm startles him, low in his body, vibrating through him. The desire is immediate, overwhelming. He wants Seth to know. He wants John to know, too. But he wants Seth to -
Roman's come splashes across Seth's face, his eyelashes, his hair. The first breath of air is overwhelming, too much. Roman feels all of it slide away from him, like a snakeskin, like a title loss.
He slides to his knees, cupping Seth's cheek with his hand. It's easy to rub himself into Seth's skin, to press his fingers there.
"You can - come back with me. Don't stay here." His voice startles him. The urgency in it.
Seth frowns. "Roman?" He blinks again. "John?"
John laughs. He hauls Seth back, up, so he's straddling John's lap and his dick is bare and vulnerable, still hard. "Don't think, baby. You're not good at it."
Roman wants to - has to pull his hand back, keep himself from pulling Seth to him, as though he and John are on opposite sides of the ring ropes, like it's a lumberjack match.
They're not. This isn't a ring. This is John's turf. Seth is the one person Roman isn't -
"You win tomorrow," John says, cool-eyed, calm. "Then you can have him."
"Jesus," Roman says.
Seth tosses his head. "John," he says.
"Shh, shh," John soothes. He presses his fingers to Seth's belly, to his hip. "I'm here, you're fine." His shirt tails drape over his thighs, catching on Seth's hips.
Roman wipes his hand on his thigh, tucks himself away. He's fully dressed. That feels fucked up.
Seth is riding John in little hitching motions. He pauses, hand braced on John's thigh. "Rome?"
John says, "He's going, Seth. Say goodnight."
"Good luck tomorrow," Seth says, instead. His eyes flash bright, sharp.
Roman freezes. He remembers: Seth with the blond streak, saying, don't worry, everything's gonna be okay. "Seth?"
Seth closes his eyes and turns his face into John's shoulder. He rides John harder, moaning.
"I got it," John says. "See you in the ring, Roman."
Roman shuts the door, presses his head into the plaster on the other side and takes a deep, long breath. Fuck.