A/N: Hey guys! I haven't written wrestling slash in ages, but these boys won't leave me alone. Obvious disclaimer: I don't own Dean, Seth, or Roman, and I don't get paid for writing this shit. I know this; trust me, it keeps me up at night. This thing took on a life of its own, so I broke it into two parts. It's self-indulgent, but I hope you guys are able to feel and enjoy the boys the way that I did when I wrote it.

Suggested Soundtrack for optimal FEELZ: Stateless - "Prism #1,"Inescape," "Miles to Go (Instrumental)," "Crash." Garbage-"Push It." Lana Del Rey - "Serial Killer," "Burning Desire." Blue Fountain - "Eyes on Fire." Fragile State - "The Facts and The Dreams." Cracker - "Low." Polvo - "Snake Fist Fighter."

How had they even gotten there? It's hard to remember. And honestly… who gives a fuck?

A heavy gush of air leaves Seth's lungs.

It doesn't go far, though.

Dean's mouth is relentlessly and possessively latched over Seth's. He swallows down the sacrificed oxygen greedily. He's entitled. That breath belongs to Dean now.

Dean's forearm is stiff and unrelenting on the back of Seth's neck. Dean's fist is wrapped cruelly around his own wrist. He can feel the bones shifting back and forth under the pressure of his own fingers as he thrusts up into the endless heat of Seth's body.

Seth, his legs straddled across Dean's hips, digs the fingers of one hand into the sinewy muscle surrounding Dean's sweaty hipbone. The slippery skin is a poor place to attempt finding purchase, but fuck, the trembling and tensing muscle under his fingers just feels so fucking good. The groans that Dean coaxes out of him are strained; Dean's forearm is an unyielding force that holds him close to Dean's lips. The small space doesn't leave a lot of room for the flesh, raw nerves, and bones comprising Seth's neck. The pain from the pressure is dull but resounding at the base of his skull, a broad ache that spreads deliciously down his neck and between his shoulders. Each breath and sound is a struggle to push past his constricted throat. He shivers as Dean pushes the sounds past his lips anyways, his hips pounding up against him without pause.

Seth's strangled groans leave him in stuttered spurts. Dean swallows those down and only thrusts harder against Seth. Those groans belong to him too. They're all his now. But really, if he thinks about it, they always have been. Every whimper, every gasp, every cry, every time. He's not so much kissing Seth as he is devouring him, sucking him down so that that two of them finally just meld into one body. He consumes Seth-fully, gladly, soundly.

Seth has no room to breathe. Dean's sucking down his already shallow and ragged breaths. Seth's chest is hot and tight as he struggles to take in the little bits of oxygen he's able to scrounge between their mingled breaths. Dean's thick cock drives into his prostate restlessly; barbed wire sparks through his veins, forcing even more breath from his already depleted lungs. His head swims warmly and he's so ready-so ready to just be devoured and taken and just-what-fucking-ever Dean has for him. He thrusts down against Dean's cock as much as he can. He already can't breathe… more exertion's a terrible idea, but he can't get enough… can't get deep enough on Dean's cock. He needs to feel it in his lungs, in his fucking brain; he doesn't care if he passes out-he just needs more. He doesn't know if there will ever be enough.

And Dean laughs. He shouldn't be surprised. Dean always finds away to laugh. The sound rumbles down Seth's own throat and into his stomach. He's tense with desire and burning scorchingly hot with deprivation. It vibrates through his entire body, through his cock and through his pores, and Seth whines brokenly. The tension on the back of Seth's neck finally breaks. Seth doesn't have time to contemplate that he's dizzy without the force holding him there. Dean's palm hits him in the center of his chest strongly. Seth thinks that he might hear the clap echo loudly in the near pitch black hotel room.

Dean watches in what can only be described as elation as Seth propels backwards and gasps against the force of his hand. He hears the sound get trapped in Seth's diaphragm. Seth is sitting up straight on top of him now. He thrusts up sharply, gripping Seth's sweaty hips to keep him from flying out of his lap, and the trapped sound effectively flies from Seth's lungs in a raspy scream, a higher pitched sound than even Dean thought possible. Seth's head snaps back with the force, hanging limply, his eyes skyward and his throat exposed. The moonlight creeping in through the window catches the blonde in his hair, tints his skin blue, highlights the goosebumps on his skin even through the sweat dripping down his collarbone and torso. Dean's grip on Seth's hips becomes a claw, and he repeats that sharp thrust again, because he has to see Seth's body jerk like that again, see Seth's cock hitting his own stomach with that same pronounced slap that makes Seth scream again. Dean drives his own skull into the pillow beneath him, Seth's scream vibrating through the channels of his brain and thrumming through the entire length of his cock.

Dean's hands slip down, only a bit, to the juncture between Seth's hip and thigh. He has to dig his thumbs into the yielding flesh. Seth whines again, leaning back to rest each hand on either one of Dean's thighs. Dean licks the the taste of Seth off his own lips and swallows it back down into himself. Seth's hair is a curly black and blonde halo around his head. Dean can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest. It's breathtaking, but really… it's funny. Because it's so right. That's Seth. Black and blonde. Good and bad. Naive and depraved. He looks on more, hearing his own hips clap loudly against Seth's ass. Seth's hair is more black than it is blonde. He's more darkness than he is light, more Dean's than he is the world's. Fuck. He just wants to bite Seth's lips right off his face. He could; he really could, but he likes Seth's swollen lips open wide and gasping for breath much better, just the way he looks now. Dean flexes his fingers and pulls Seth down against him. Hard. Balls deep. Seth's mouth opens even further, but no sound makes it out, just a small remnant of a sound trying to escape. From there, Dean pulls Seth hips forward and then pushes those hips backwards, grinding Seth against him. Dean raises his hips upwards off the bed, pushing Seth up with him, impossibly deep now.

Seth's quivering, drawn tighter than a bow, but even in his foggy and vibrating mind, he takes the hint, takes what both he and Dean want. He pushes himself off Dean's thighs, braces one hand on Dean's pecs, one on Dean's ribs. His own hair flies in his face and blinds him outside of black and gold. He digs his fingers into the flesh between Dean's bones, determined to sink into the other man's skin, craving more than anything to grab onto his skeleton and never let go. He rides Dean, full to the brim just like he wants. He grinds his hips backward and forward, lowering back down as Dean's hips rest back on the bed. Seth grinds his hips in desperate circles, figure-eights, trying to feel Dean in every spot inside him. He could cum like this… he could cum just like this. Oh god, he just might. He feels the weight of Dean's balls against his ass as he grinds frantically against the full hardness inside of him, wishes he could take those into his body too. Wishes he could take everything.

"Yeah," Dean rasps, "Just like that. Just fucking," his voice emanates straight from the depths of his throat… Seth can't tell if he's cooing or taunting… he never really can. Dean scrapes his short nails from the delicate hollow in Seth's throat to the small patch of shaved skin right above Seth's cock, a quick swipe that feels like it takes sweet, torturous years. Seth's moan is something bubbled out of his throat. He doesn't bleed, but damn, he's close to it, the long, unbroken path of Dean's scratch marks swelling pink and tall against the rest of his skin even in the darkness… even the gentlest of touches would break the skin apart the rest of the way. Fuckfuckfuck, Seth just wants to come apart the rest of the way.

"Dean," he breathes, gripping Dean's pecs like they're his last savior from falling into absolute oblivion. "Dean," he says this like he's going to say something. What? What the fuck is he going to say? He's rubbing his hips against Dean's faster than he knew his body could move. Fuck, he's just so close, but not close enough. Dean is surprisingly yielding beneath him, pushing up every once in a while to fill Seth as deeply as he can, but letting Seth set the pace. "Dean," he begs from his chest, collapsing on his forearms over Dean. Sweet relief floods over Seth as the rest of their bodies press together again, Seth's swollen cock sliding against the soft ridges of Dean's abs. He presses his face tightly between Dean's shoulder and neck, breathing the salty moisture ravenously, not realizing how much he'd wanted to feel the rest of Dean's body pressed into him until now. He wants to feel Dean's arms wrap around his back with crushing force; that's what he needs; he just wants to be pulled into Dean's body as tightly as possible. He wants Dean to pull him in until their bones give in and they become a heap of one another. He licks the terse muscle connecting Dean's neck and shoulder reverently. "Dean," he groans while mouthing the skin.

Dean's movement is sharp, accurate like a needle point. Sharp and sudden, inhumanly quick. His fist delves into Seth's sweaty mess of tendrils, hand managing to meet just where black and blonde meet. "What, Seth?" His voice is a growl. "What is it that you want so bad that you have to keep saying my name like that," Dean's voice breaks as his hips snap up against Seth's, "over," Dean's hips snap up again, "and over again, huh?"

"Fuck, Dean…" Seth doesn't have any words prepared. He doesn't know exactly what it is that he wants, just that Dean's name is the only comprehensible word that he can utter.

Dean's other hand snakes into Seth's hair. He pushes his hips back against Seth, stilling his movements but pushing into Seth as far as he can possibly go. His fingers are wound tightly into Seth's hair now, right at the scalp, one hand holding onto the black side, the other hand holding onto the blonde side. The force cranes Seth's neck backwards. Seth's breathing is sparse but loud.

He licks up the column of Seth's throat possessively, devouring the ridge of each bone against his tongue. "See?" Dean drags his tongue up Seth's throat and up his chin. He pushes off his shoulders to lap Seth's bottom lip. He sucks Seth's bottom lip into his mouth, pulling it down even as Seth's head tilts back the other way. He doesn't know what the sound is that comes out of Seth's mouth, but he wants to hear it again. He releases Seth's lip, only to catch it between his teeth. It's a definite whimper this time, one that sounds like it comes straight from Seth's fucking cock. He can't help but smile, leaning back and letting the weight tug it further. Dean releases, and Seth whines… Is he fucking disappointed? Dean almost forgot where he was going with all of this.

"See? See? You did it again. You said my name like that. Like that. Again. You… you said my name like you wanted something… what was it that you wanted?" Dean's breath is hot against against the protruding vein in Seth's neck with every word. He wants to hear the weakness in Seth's voice. Dean's cock throbs again at the thought, feeling Seth contract and relax against him as he grinds in again. "What was it? You can tell me. You know you can tell me, right?"

Dean's taunting is going straight to his cock. Dean's breath against his neck is going straight to his cock. Dean's paralyzing grip on his hair is going straight to his cock. He wants to answer Dean. He wants to moan. He wants to scream.

Dean lets go of his hair suddenly and he feels like his head might spin off his shoulders. He's spinning and seeing stars. He goes face first into the pillow right beside Dean's head. He has two seconds to breathe, two seconds to ground himself with the feeling of Dean's chest rising and falling beneath him. There's a growl in his ear, "No, no, no, no. I wanna see you. I like when I can see you. "

Dean pushes him up by the hips, pushes Seth up so he sits up straight again. He watches as Seth's enormous dark eyes try to acclimate back into focus. Dean's eyes are inevitably drawn back to Seth's cock, standing straight fucking up, straight against his stomach, balls heavy and round. Dean bites his lip. He tries to decide between the options on the endless list of things he wants to do.

He reaches out to touch Seth's cock. Seth licks his lips and tries to say something. Before he can think of anything, he's pushing in to get closer to Dean's hand. Dean laughs and uses his other hand to brush his own hair out of his eyes. The hand not jerking Seth goes behind Dean's head. "Look at you."

Seth swallows and closes his eyes, the image of Dean stretched out languidly behind his eyelids. He's thrilled and sick to his stomach about the humiliation that's about to ensue. And it is. He knows Dean too well for anything else to come.

But since when is Ambrose predictable?

"Fuck," Dean drawls in that slow way of his, "Just look. at. you." Dean's fingers release Seth's cock and feather over Seth's abs, and Seth's eyes snap open. Dean's eyes are pure appreciation over his body.

He wants to beg Dean to get him off. He can't take this much longer. He starts grinding against Dean again. Dean's eyes flare at him. Seth's movement is unsanctioned; fear, dread, and excitement twist in Seth's stomach.

Seth opens his mouth, but a loud click and an acute flash of light on the door derails his train of thought. There's a mechanical buzz, and then yellow light fills the dark room as the door opens. Seth swears he can taste his heart as it leaps up into his throat.

Dean sighs heavily, frustrated. Stupid of him. He didn't mark the door. This is a shared room, after all. His head lolls to face the light. The tall dark frame halts in the doorway, seeming huger than he's ever been. He's a silhouette in the door frame, all long curly hair and hulking frame bathed in gold light. Dean can see pause in his movements, can see the knowing stillness in his muscles even as a shadow.