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all you are is all i need

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Seth jolts awake when the front door slams against the wall. His eyes are still crusty with sleep but he manages to roll them as he shouts, “Don’t slam the fucking door, asshole!”

“I pay rent!” Dean shouts back, but Seth doesn’t hear a second slam, so he must’ve at least closed it like a human being rather than a caveman.

“Yeah,” says Seth when Dean pops his head through the doorway. “Me, too. Don’t slam the fucking door.”

Dean wrinkles his nose at Seth, then makes his way across to the couch Seth’s sprawled upon. He doesn’t have his shoes on, and his hands are conspicuously empty.

“Did you leave your suitcase in the doorway again?” he mumbles as Dean flops down on top of him, tucking his head under Seth’s chin. Seth can’t muster up much annoyance now, with Dean so close, his hair smelling like airport lobbies and cigarettes. “Smoke?”

“Nah, lady I was next to while I was waiting for Roman was,” Dean mutters. He sighs heavily and Seth can feel most of the tension drain out of him. “Thought about asking for one. Didn’t, though. Thought you might be proud.”

“I am.” Seth blinks, blearily, at the doorway where Roman’s appeared. He’s got the handle of Dean’s suitcase in one hand, the other leaning against the frame of the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Roman replies. He gestures with the hand holding the suitcase. “Found this in the doorway again. Nearly tripped over it. Think I’m gonna take it out back and burn it.”

“Dare you, fucker,” Dean mumbles from where he’s still comfortably ensconced on Seth’s chest. “Don’t care, anyway. I’m staying here forever.”

“That so?” Seth rubs the back of Dean’s neck, rolling his eyes at Roman over his head. “I think Hunter’d probably get upset about that.”

“Fuck Hunter,” Dean grunts. “Always smiling, always so good to see you, Dean and how’ve you been? like I’m s’posed to just forget about all those times he screwed us over. Bullshit. Asshole.”

Seth snorts, his thumb moving in slow circles at the base of Dean’s neck, and Dean’s shoulders slowly relax. “Come on, he’s got to be professional now. It’s his company.”

“Didn’t care so much about being professional when he was setting the whole roster on us and costing us titles and—“ Dean goes abruptly silent, and Seth sighs. They don’t talk much about back then, because they’re past it now, and they did plenty of talking at the time. But Seth knows that it lingers in the back of Dean’s mind, even now, and there’s nothing Seth can do about it but prove that he’s learned how to stay.

“It’s been years,” Seth says, softly, his hand trailing down Dean’s back. He turns his face enough to press it against the top of Dean’s head and kisses him there. “Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he hasn’t. Either way, he’s still our boss now.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean tips his head up, the point of his chin digging into Seth’s chest. “I don’t have to like it.”

“What’s your schedule like this week?” Seth asks, deliberately changing the subject. He pecks a kiss to Dean’s nose and while the other man is sputtering, shuffles up into a seated position.

Dean adjusts his weight so that his thighs are on either side of Seth’s, and he’s precariously balanced like that when Roman finally returns. “Nothing until Monday. Or Sunday, if we’re driving out instead of flying.”

“Doubt it,” says Roman. He gently ruffles Seth’s hair as he leans against the back of the couch. “Think Raw’s in Jersey next week.”

“We could manage it,” Dean grumbles, but Roman’s right. Their house is in Florida, and Dean had thrown a fit at the time, but even he’s grown fond of it. Sometimes they stop by NXT to talk to the talent backstage, and Seth remembers being the talent backstage, and now some of these kids look at him like he’s fucking, like he’s fucking Stone Cold Steve Austin or something, all reverent and excited to meet him.

“We’re not gonna,” Roman shoots back at Dean, frowning. “What’re we having for dinner?” he asks, when Dean finally grumbles and subsides, letting Roman tip his head back for a quick kiss. Come to think of it, Seth hasn’t gotten his kiss from either of them since they got back, and that hardly seems fair.

“What’ve we got?” Seth asks, settling his hands at Dean’s waist. He can see the suggestive look Dean gives him out of the corner of his eye, but ignores it, looking up at Roman. “Think you went shopping more recently than me.”

Roman looks thoughtful, scratching his chin. “Burgers?” he offers. “We could just get something in.”

“Burgers sounds good.” Seth can’t hold back the snicker that escapes him when Dean eschews subtlety and dips his head to kiss Seth’s neck. He tips his head back to give him room, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge it. “You wanna get the grill going, or?”

“I’ll do that.” Roman’s smiling at him, amused, and then he weaves fingers into Dean’s hair to tip his head back. “Needy,” he admonishes, kissing Dean again. “Burgers sound good to you?”

“Let’s make out instead,” Dean suggests, grinning up at him. The line of his throat is right there, and Seth doesn’t think he can be blamed for leaning up to press his mouth against it. Dean hums and Seth can feel the vibration of it against his lips. He smiles.

“Shameless,” Roman chides. He kisses Dean and Seth watches as he lingers, his teeth catching Dean’s lower lip just hard enough that Dean gasps quietly.

“Grill,” Seth reminds Roman, though honestly, he thinks Dean’s idea has merit. He hasn’t seen Dean in days, and while Roman had only been gone long enough to get to the airport and back, it’s always better when it’s the three of them. Seth misses the feeling of being sandwiched between his boys, misses kissing and being kissed, misses the solid steadiness of Dean in his lap with Roman’s weight heavy against his back.

He misses fucking.

Christ, it’s been too long since they’ve all been in the same place. Far too long.

Even Roman looks tempted to just climb on the couch with them, but he nods instead. “Grill,” he says with resignation.

Seth catches his hand before he can step too far away, and squeezes it. “Later,” he says. It’s a promise, and Roman smiles at him, his fingertips stroking along Seth’s wrist.

“Later,” he acknowledges, and he ruffles Seth’s hair again on his way to the kitchen.

Dean leans back on Seth’s lap enough to strip his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. “I’ve missed you, babe,” he says. If Seth didn’t know him as well as he does, he might even say the smile on his face was completely sincere. But Dean’s looking at him in the slightly too-reverent manner of someone who has no problem using manipulation to get what they want, and Seth grins right back at him.

“Go help Roman with the grill, loverboy,” Seth says, tucking his fingers behind Dean’s belt buckle. “Food comes first. You eaten today?”

“I had a meal thing on the plane,” Dean grumbles, but his stomach grumbles right along with him, and he sighs heavily. “Fine, fine,” he says before Seth can prod. He leans into Seth to kiss along the line of his throat before he rolls off the couch. Seth smacks his ass and Dean tosses him a flirtatious enough look over his shoulder that Seth considers telling him to fuck everything and get back on Seth’s lap.

Seth groans as he moves his feet to the floor. Honestly, when he’s at home he spends too much time on this couch. He has no idea how many times he’s actually fallen asleep there, reading or watching TV or something, only to wake up because Roman’s carrying him to bed. Usually, he worms his way out of Roman’s grip, because he’s a grown man with functional legs, thanks, but on occasion he just sighs and presses his face harder against Roman’s shoulder.

Sometimes it just kind of hits him how long they’ve known each other. How long they’ve been this. He forgets that there used to be a time when they didn’t know each other.

There used to be a time when Seth didn’t know that Roman snores, that Dean kicks in his sleep. He didn’t know that sometime in the future, he’d find it hard to get to sleep without hearing Roman’s foghorn-noises or without getting his shins bruised while Dean tries to find a comfortable position.

Him five years ago had no idea he’d start buying French vanilla coffee creamer because Dean’s fucking addicted to it for some reason, had no idea that he’d own a grill that cost entirely too much money because Roman has a hard-on for barbecuing, had no idea that he’d be settled, settled, in a solid long-term relationship with two men before he’s thirty-five.

Seth rubs his face. He wonders what twenty-year-old him would think of all these developments. Back then, his only long-term relationship was with wrestling.

He stands and stretches, wincing at the popping sounds his spine makes. He’s been lucky not to have needed any significant surgeries, hasn’t had any terrible injuries during the course of his career. He remembers when Dean had fucked up his shoulder badly enough that there had been murmurs, from the doctor, that they might be looking at a career ender.

Of course, Dean had stared at the doctor so icily that the man had actually paled and stumbled over his words, and it hadn’t been any sort of career ender at all. But in that moment, standing next to Dean with his fingers twined so tightly with his that Seth couldn’t feel his hand anymore, Seth remembers feeling like wrestling wouldn’t even be worth doing if Dean wasn’t doing it, too.

It had been fleeting, of course – Seth wrestled before Dean and if the cards fall that way, he could keep wrestling after Dean. But there had been a terrifying moment where Seth had been sure he’d have to choose between two of the loves of his life, and he’s not sure if wrestling would’ve been victorious.

Roman was the only thing that kept him upright those couple of months, while Dean was in and out of surgery. They’d both known that a bum shoulder wasn’t going to keep Dean Ambrose down for long, if only through sheer willpower, but it was still hell to watch Dean undergo all the physical therapy, all the downtime. Dean doesn’t handle downtime well.

If it hadn’t been for Roman… Seth doesn’t know where he’d be now. Roman’s the one who subbed in for good luck kisses before matches, the one who made sure Seth’s flights were booked, rented the cars they rode in together. Once, just once, it had been too much, when Seth got back from visiting Dean and Dean’s face had been all bitter frustration and hopelessness, and he’d barely looked at Roman before his knees gave out, and Roman was there, and Roman stayed, and Seth doesn’t know if Roman really understands how much he means to him.

Seth shakes his head. He’s been standing there reminiscing for far too long, if the wafting smell of sizzling beef is any indication. He heads out to see how Roman’s dealing with Dean, but stops in the back doorway, silently taking them in.

Roman’s leaning against the rail of the deck, one elbow on hard wood, his other arm tucked securely around Dean, hand in his back pocket. Dean’s leaning against Roman’s side, talking a mile a minute, of course, and Roman is listening with the fondest look on his face.

Seth loves the way that Roman loves them. It takes his breath away, sometimes, because Roman loves with everything he has. Dean does too, in a way, but Roman – Seth thinks that Roman loves so completely because he doesn’t know how to do anything else, where Dean loves so completely because he doesn’t know you’re not supposed to.

Finally, Roman notices him over Dean’s shoulder, and he smiles in welcome.

“Hey,” Seth greets, and Dean’s head whips around as well. “Thought I’d see how it was going.”

“Fine,” says Roman, gently nudging Dean out of the way with his hip so he can turn the burgers. “Maybe ten more minutes, altogether.”

Dean makes a disgruntled noise. “I meant to shower,” he mutters, frowning. “I still smell like recycled air.”

Roman chuckles. “Should’ve thought about that before,” he says. He reaches behind him to tug on Dean’s belt buckle. Seth wonders if Dean’s realized he and Roman both use it as a sort of handle to steer Dean where they want him. If he’s gonna wear stupidly giant belt buckles, they might as well take advantage of it.

And indeed, Dean shuffles forward, narrowing his eyes at Roman and then springing a kiss on him. “Make mine well done then,” he advises, already unfastening his belt as he makes his way back toward the house. He spares another kiss for Seth on his way by, not that Seth minds. Dean’s always kind of clingy, generous with his touches when they’re finally all three together.

“Smells good,” Seth offers, sliding the tie out of his hair to refasten it, capture all the strands that have come loose. “Need anything?”

“Nah.” Roman holds out an arm and Seth tucks himself under it automatically, releasing a pleased sigh. “Got mostly everything ready, even with Captain Distraction running around without a shirt on trying to convince me to blow him.”

“How’s that any different from any other day?” Seth asks. He’s only half joking.

Roman shoots him a smile, one of the ones that make Seth really, really glad he and Dean snatched Roman up before anyone else could, because damn. “Cause I could, if I wanted to. And I wanted to.”

Seth hums, warm from more than the fiery coals next to them, or the Florida humidity. “Good thing we’ve got the rest of this week, then.”

“Good thing,” Roman agrees. He tucks his thumb into the waist of Seth’s pants, his fingers spanning Seth’s hip, and Seth wonders, if he took his shirt off, if he’d have a better shot at convincing Roman than Dean did.

Probably not. But it could be worth a try.

He pulls his shirt off anyway, because it’s hot, and because Roman’s hot, and because Seth isn’t oblivious and he knows he’s also hot. He laughs when Roman heaves a put-upon sigh, his knuckles pressing against Seth’s side.

“You two’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, patting Seth’s hip. He glances down at Seth, and, Seth’s pleased to note, gives him a solid onceover before he turns back to the grill. “Go get plates, you monster. I’ll deal with you later.”

“Yes, sir,” Seth replies, draping his shirt over his arm and absently sliding a hand up Roman’s back before he plods back inside, tossing his shirt into the laundry hamper before he makes his way into the kitchen.

It’s all so normal, so domestic and homey. Seth never thought he would get to have this, being on the road as often as they have to be in their profession. He always thought secure home lives were for other people; white picket fences and outdoor barbecues were for people who weren’t him. But now he has that, and it’s better than he could’ve ever imagined.

Or course, if he ever imagined it, he probably wouldn’t have imagined Dean in a towel dripping all over the carpet in the hallway, but there’s a lot of things about Dean that defy the imagination.

“You’re dripping on the carpet,” says Seth mildly, patting Dean’s stomach as he goes by. Dean grumbles at him, and Seth ducks automatically as Dean’s towel goes sailing over his head.

“If I wanna drip on the carpet in my own home, I will,” Dean calls after him. “I pay rent!”

Seth smiles to himself. That’s Dean’s response to everything. Constantly slamming the door? He pays rent. Playing douchebag 80s rock ballads at three in the morning? He pays rent. Excuse for walking around naked all day? He pays rent. Seth imagines it’s probably a psychological thing, a way to verbally remind himself that he has a house and a home and a real family. He stopped trying to psychoanalyze Dean years ago, though, and mostly Dean’s got quirks that Seth’s learned to think of as cute instead of crass.

The burgers are ready by the time Seth returns with plates. Roman gives him a grateful look, and leans over to kiss his head.

“Thanks,” he says.

Dean, shifting from foot to foot and clad only in shorts, gives Roman a narrow-eyed look, the corners of his mouth turned down. “I didn’t get a kiss,” he mumbles. He squawks when Roman reaches over and full on grabs his head, pulling him closer to give him what can only be described as a smooch, right on his temple. Dean whines, and bats at Roman, but Seth can see in the set of his mouth how he’s really quite pleased with himself.

There’s not much conversation while they’re eating. Dean’s nearly ravenous, of course, because he never remembers to eat throughout the day when he’s got a long flight, so he’s mainly focused on devouring his burger. For his part, Seth enjoys just sitting in silence with his boys. He likes the company, but you don’t need conversation for company to be comforting.

Dean swipes his wrist across his mouth when he’s finished, looking from Roman to Seth expectantly.

“Can I have my welcome home sex yet?” he requests. He’s almost bouncing in his seat. “I’ve been good.”

“Lie,” Roman says, still casually working his way through his own food. He eyes Dean speculatively. “Anyway, there’s dishes.”

Dean actually growls at him. “They’re just plates. Do ‘em after, they’ll wait. I’m probably going to die if I don’t fuck someone right now.”

“You’ll live.” Roman stacks their plates on top of each other, carrying them over to the sink and calmly starting the water.

Seth is struck, yet again, by how normal this all is. It seems unbearably odd that it should be so ordinary, Roman washing the dishes from dinner. He’s thinking too much today. Must be the nap he took earlier; getting too much sleep always screws with his head.

Dean slips out of his own seat to pad over to Roman and wrap his arms around his waist from behind, leaning his cheek against the back of Roman’s neck. He sighs happily, relaxing against him.

“Please?” he requests. “Pretty please? I had a really long flight.”

“It’s three plates. You’ll manage until I’m done washing three plates.” Roman has far more willpower than Seth does, he thinks. If Seth was trying to do dishes and Dean plastered himself all over him, Seth would probably fuck him on the kitchen counter. Roman, though, just keeps on scrubbing, even with Dean wrapped around him like a barnacle.

Seth watches, amused, as Roman takes far longer to wash three dishes than it should take. By the time he sets the last one in the dish drainer, Dean’s progressed to making loud disgruntled noises and trying to climb onto Roman’s back, so, his natural state. Roman laughs, and the next time Dean hooks his arms around Roman’s neck from behind, Roman just bends forward a little and catches Dean’s thighs under his hands.

“Cute,” Seth observes, as Dean shrugs, happily adjusting his center of gravity to make up for his new position. “I should tweet this.”

“I’ll kill you,” Dean says. It’s not really convincing when he’s still rubbing his face against the side of Roman’s neck like a pleased cat.

“Don’t be an asshole,” says Roman, tilting his head back to kiss the line of Dean’s jaw. “Or I won’t give you that blowjob you’ve been beggin’ for.”

Dean hums, and then lightly tugs on the ends of Roman’s hair. “Deal,” he says.

Roman laughs again, then looks to Seth, jerking his head toward the doorway. Seth doesn’t need telling twice. He pushes his chair back from the table and follows after them, waiting at the bottom of the stairs for Roman to maneuver up them while he has a person on his back. He’s shaking his head when he ducks through the bedroom behind them. Sometimes, it really hits him who exactly he’s in love with here. A guy getting a piggyback ride up the stairs and a guy who not only indulges that desire but does so with gusto.

Dean is deposited on the bed with little fanfare, and Roman dips down to kiss him before he can complain about it. Roman likes kissing, thinks it’s the best part of sex, sometimes, he’d confessed to Seth once. It shuts Dean up, and he cranes up into the touch, a hand behind Roman’s neck in an attempt to pull him closer.

Seth settles on the bed with them, shoes already toed off, and he sets a hand on Roman’s back. God, but he’s missed this. He and Roman hadn’t been celibate with Dean off on a more involved tour week than them, but it’s so much different, so much better with Dean there.

“Scoot,” Roman says, patting Dean’s side, and Dean blinks at him for a moment. Seth knows that feeling well. Roman’s kind of a lot, even when you’re used to him, because he puts so much of himself into everything he does. Kissing him is a little like making out with a supernova.

But Dean does look behind him and then scoot, laughing quietly when he finds himself nestled comfortably in the V of Seth’s legs. He looks over his shoulder, nosing up against the underside of Seth’s jaw.

“I mastered sitting on my own at a pretty early age,” he whispers, and Seth shivers when Dean’s lips brush his skin.

“If you don’t want my help…” Seth says. He strokes his knuckles up Dean’s stomach, and bends to kiss his neck, just above where it curves into his bare shoulder.

Dean tilts his head a little to allow Seth better access. “I guess I could be convinced.”

Roman’s gotten his own shirt off now, which Seth is always a fan of. He lowers himself onto his stomach in front of Dean, and tugs down the waist of Dean’s shorts. Dean lifts his hips to help him.

“Mm,” Roman hums, kissing the jut of Dean’s hip bone, glancing up at him. Dean’s half-hard already, and Seth’s hand is ghosting down near his dick, a deliberate tease. Roman’s mouth is more of a temptation than Seth’s hand, and he quirks it into a smile as he looks up at them. “Did you want something, babe?” he asks, between mouthing along Dean’s waist, leaving vague red marks where he uses his teeth to hear the way Dean nearly gasps.

“Fucker,” Dean growls, and it turns into a groan from deep in his chest when Roman’s mouth finally touches him, a delicate press to the side of his shaft. Roman barely has to look at Seth for Seth to know what he's supposed to do, and he grips Dean firmly, pushing his smile into Dean’s shoulder while he holds his cock steady for Roman to slip his mouth over.

Seth’s other hand is still stroking light touches over Dean’s stomach, up to his chest and back down, just barely skimming over his skin. Dean huffs a quiet laugh, and one of his hands catches Seth’s, fingers twining, and holds it there. “Tickles,” he mumbles, tilting his head hopefully. Seth gives him what he wants, kissing him with more intent than he has the other times they’ve kissed today, open-mouthed and demanding.

He likes the way that Dean uses his mouth to muffle the noises Roman is drawing out of him. Dean’s noisy as hell in this as he is in everything else, and back when most of the action they’d gotten had been in janitor’s closets, empty locker rooms, quickies to try to pretend that it didn’t mean anything, just post-match adrenaline, Dean had gotten into the habit of trying to keep from being too vocal. Some habits die hard, and Seth has no problem being used as a way to keep him quiet.

Dean makes a choked noise against Seth’s mouth, and Seth swallows it, bites Dean’s lower lip and swallows that sound, too. He looks down, where Roman’s mouth is still hard at work, and god, but he’s got pretty just about everything, and Seth’s so startled by it sometimes, by how good Roman looks always, with a cock in his mouth and his pretty, pretty hair is falling into his pretty, pretty eyes, his pretty, pretty lips barely kissing Seth’s hand when they meet it, every time he works his way that low.

He breaks the kiss to murmur, “Come up here,” at Roman, and Roman listens, slides his mouth off of Dean despite Dean’s quiet whine of displeasure. He leans up, spares a kiss to the scar on Dean’s chin before he kisses Seth. Yes, yes, this is what he wanted, Roman’s mouth so wet and the taste of Dean on his tongue and Dean right there with them, sandwiched between them, watching.

“Okay,” Dean says, and he bites Seth’s neck, hard enough that it hurts, and then he kisses it all gentle and sweet. He’s got a mouth like sin, stings and soothes all at once. “Your turn.”

“Hmm?” Seth asks, then he yelps as Dean and Roman in some sort of ridiculous coordinated dance shift, and suddenly Dean’s where Roman was and Roman’s next to them, helping Dean remove Seth’s pants. Seth lets them, figuring that whatever they’re planning on doing, it’s hardly going to be bad if he gets to be naked and Dean’s naked too because he’s dropping his shorts off the side of the bed.

Roman’s the only one still wearing clothes, and when Seth mentions offhand how incredibly unfair that is, he laughs, sliding off the bed to get rid of the rest of what he’s wearing.

“That’s much better,” Seth says, reaching out to touch, trail his fingers down the strong line of Roman’s thigh. God, it’s been years and he’s still in awe of the man in so many ways. He’s sure that on more than one occasion, in the middle of sex, he’s looked at Roman in pure disbelief that he gets to touch him, kiss him, love him and be loved by him.

Dean gives head like it’s the last thing he’s ever going to get to do. Roman practically has to hold Seth’s arms back every time Dean goes down on him because otherwise Seth’ll rip the sheets on the bed, or yank on Dean’s hair, or claw at his shoulder.

Once, someone at work had made a joke, tossing a boot half-heartedly at Dean and saying, "No idea why these two keep you around, Ambrose."

Without missing a beat, Dean had looked up and said, straight-faced, "Because I'm a champion cocksucker."

It’s not the reason they keep him around. But Seth swears that even if it weren’t for the love and devotion thing, he might consider it for that very reason.

Seth taps Roman’s arm frantically, leaning up to kiss him again, just because. “Think you should fuck him,” he whispers, voice low so that Dean won’t hear. “I wanna see it.”

Roman laughs, kisses Seth harder and touches the side of his neck. By chance or by deliberation, it’s right where Dean bit him, and the skin is still tender enough that Seth hisses. The look Roman gives him when he pulls back, underneath his eyelashes and very coquettish for a man his size, makes Seth think it was probably on purpose.

“Your wish is my command,” Roman mutters, stealing another kiss from Seth’s lips. He seems reluctant to part from them, but does, shifting down to the other end of the bed after he dips his hand into the bedside drawer.

For his part, Dean’s very involved in what he’s doing, and barely notices. He’s too busy making Seth come apart at the seams with every flick of his tongue. He’s already in an amazing position for it, head and shoulders low, knees flat on the bed, spread wide so that he can keep his balance.

He makes a vague questioning noise when Roman gives him a smack on the ass, pulling back far enough to lick his lips and glance over his shoulder. “Hmm?” Roman holds up the tube he’d snatched out of the drawer, raising an eyebrow, and Dean licks his lips again, grinning. “Oh, feel free.”

Roman grins back as Dean returns to sucking Seth’s dick like it’s going out of style, and Seth can see from here how Dean’s eyes are dilated, the black nearly eclipsing the blue. He closes them momentarily when Roman, Seth assumes, presses a finger into him, though he can’t see what’s actually happening. He shivers a little. Roman’s got good fingers, long and thick, and he always stretches you open nice and slow, takes his time. Dean doesn’t do patience well. Roman, however is very, very good at it.

Dean falters, just a little, on Seth’s cock. He recovers well enough, easing back, slowing down, and he spreads his legs farther apart. Seth knows that feeling very well. That sort of desperate, needy feeling that pools in your stomach, the want to have a dick in you deep and hard and now. It’s not a feeling Seth had much before Roman and Dean popped into his life. There are some things you can never know you need until you get them, and a good thorough dicking was one of them for Seth.

It’s fucking gorgeous, the way Dean’s hips start moving back in subtle jerks against Roman’s hand, his mouth getting fumbly, sloppy, and the calm, easy smile on Roman’s face as he watches. Dean’s mouth finally slips off of Seth when Roman adds a third finger, or so Seth assumes, and Dean is left panting against Seth’s hip, his damp lips smudging apologetic kisses against Seth’s skin.

“Oh my god,” he finally croaks, glaring back at Roman. It’s not one of his best glares, and as Roman twists his wrist a little, Dean catches his lower lip between his teeth. “Put your fucking dick in me before I explode.”

“Language,” chastises Roman, and Seth coughs out a laugh. Only Roman could get away with that, his expression perfectly mild while he’s three fingers deep in Dean’s ass. He pulls his fingers out (Seth takes in the way Dean shudders, knows that feeling of sudden emptiness, clenching around nothing, and gives Dean’s hair a sympathetic stroke) and squirts more lube from the tube, coating himself liberally.

He looks up at Seth, hooking a thumb into Dean as a sort of placeholder, and his eyes are bright. “Sure you don’t want first go?” he asks. Dean makes a quiet noise at that, one he tries to muffle into Seth’s hip. It’s something like a whimper and Dean hates hearing such delicate noises come out of his mouth.

Seth considers it, still petting through Dean’s hair, then shakes his head. “We’ve got all week.” He’s slightly surprised at how low his voice has gotten. “’sides, I like his mouth.”

Dean makes the same noise, and bites Seth’s thigh. He looks up at him, narrowed eyes and his red, well-used mouth, and then said mouth falls open as Roman begins to push himself slowly, slowly inside.

It seems like it takes an age, and Dean’s gasping aloud by the time Roman’s fully in, his hips rocking back again, mouth so tempting and near that Seth touches the back of Dean’s neck, raises his eyebrows when Dean looks up. Dean is already nodding, moving, so Seth helps, guiding his cock back into Dean’s mouth.

“That’s it,” Roman murmurs, sliding a steady hand up Dean’s back. He’s not unaffected, either, sweat on his brow, short of breath. He shoves his hair back out of his face but it just falls back, and his other hand is almost certainly leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on Dean’s hips that Dean’ll touch tomorrow, smiling like he’s got the best secret in the world. “That’s it, that’s good.”

Dean isn’t as erratic about it as he was before, his sucking rhythm vaguely in time with the way Roman’s pulling out and rocking back in, steady and slow, his tongue curling around the head of Seth’s cock in flashes of pink every so often, and Seth keeps his hand in Dean’s hair even though he doesn’t need guiding. Dean knows what Seth likes. Hell, Dean knew what Seth liked the first time they fooled around, too. Dean’s always just known.

Roman has one hand between Dean’s stomach and the bedspread, and Seth can see his elbow working, stroking Dean on the offbeats of his thrusts, keeping it just irregular enough that there’d be no way for Dean to predict. Dean will hate and love that in equal measure: hates when he can’t anticipate things but loves when they keep him on his toes.

Seth takes in the sight of Roman still so easily, smoothly fucking into Dean and Dean’s mouth is as amazing as ever and the sun is setting outside, casting purpley-pink shadows onto Roman’s side, orange-gold thrills of light playing off of his skin. He’s beautiful and Dean, with spindly fingers splayed on Seth’s hip and his thighs trembling a little and the light sheen of sweat on his ribs, he’s beautiful, too. And it makes Seth feel beautiful to be a part of.

He tugs Dean’s ear lightly, smoothes his thumb along Dean’s jaw when he looks up, mouth still stretched around Seth. He does something with the point of his tongue and whatever it is takes Seth from I’m pretty close to holy shit oh my god fuck fuck fuck. Dean knows it, too, from the way his eyes dance when Seth chokes out a strangled sound that in no way resembles words.

Seth comes hard, dizzyingly so, his head tipping back and lights flashing in front of his eyes, and Dean’s mouth is still a hot, wet, sucking pressure as he swallows.

It takes Seth a couple of carefully paced deep breaths to be able to push his head up, and he watches, dazed, as Roman picks up his pace once Dean’s mouth isn’t occupied. Seth still has a hand in Dean’s hair and he lets go, slides a knuckle down Dean’s cheek.

It’s nice, the haze of satisfaction still fogging Seth’s brain. He has a great view, too, to see Roman’s hand on Dean’s cock, to see the way Dean gets fucked so well, it’s mindblowing. He takes it so well, everything Roman gives him, and his whole body is thanking Roman for it in every way.

Roman is the opposite of Dean, in that when he comes, he hardly makes any noise at all. It’s probably part of being in a large family, or something, but he screws into Dean hard and his shoulders tense and he sighs, tremulously, the tail end of it dragging out into a deeper sort of moan that makes Seth’s loins tingle a little, incredibly.

And Roman’s hand is still going on Dean, even as he’s coming inside him, and Dean’s so flushed and shaky that it’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen over yet. His nails dig in to Seth’s thigh, and his quiet noises of pleasure become loud noises of pleasure, groans and hissed curses and finally, finally, his back arches and his head drops and he comes in spurts, a loud fuck his declaration of release.

Dean’s boneless once he’s come, a puddle of a man, and Roman gives him a nudge over onto his side. He wrinkles his nose at his spunk covered hand, then shrugs, leaning over to pick Seth’s shorts up off the floor and wipe it on them.

“Hey,” Seth protests without much heat behind it.

“S’my laundry day tomorrow,” says Roman, stretching his arms above his head. He blinks, owlish, then shakes his head. “Hey, you’re leaking,” he says to Dean, tapping his leg to get his attention.

Dean grumbles. “Your fault,” he points out, but they all hate it when there’s wet drips and smears of come on the bed, so he promptly rolls off of it, curling his legs underneath him on the floor. “Happy? Asshole.”

“Overjoyed.” Roman knees up next to Seth on the bed, and kisses his head. “How’re you doin’, pretty?” he asks. Seth’s a little sleepy and sweaty and his back hurts from the way he’s sitting, but his boys are both home and he’s just had a really good blowjob, so it all seems inconsequential, really.

“Good,” he answers, pulling Roman down for another kiss. It lingers, their lips staying close even once it’s over, their foreheads pressed together. “Why don’t you take Grumpy and get a shower? I’ll wait ‘til morning. Still kinda wobbly.”

Roman considers that point, cupping Seth’s face with one big hand. Dean’s already complaining that he’s not grumpy, and they both soundly ignore him. “Be back in fifteen,” Roman decides, pushing Seth’s hair back off his head where it’s come out from the tie he’d had it in.

“Holding you to that. Bed gets cold on my own.”

Seth gets another kiss for that before Roman gets off the bed, holding a hand down to Dean. Even though Dean’s still muttering under his breath about the grumpy comment, he grasps Roman’s wrist, accepting the help up. He wavers on his feet, but bats Roman away before the other man can do something silly like scoop him up into his arms.

They’re still bantering back and forth as they head into the en-suite, Dean leaning lightly on Roman, and Seth sighs, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in… well, probably since the last time they were all home. Sure, next week they’ll have to go through the rigmarole again, all of them in different directions, but for moments like this, he’ll gladly deal with it.