a deadbeat christmas special!!
(alternate title: ‘christmas in florida’)
summary: roman brings mox home to meet his family for christmas. also, something something, sex against a vanity.
warnings: mentions of past-traumas; if you’ve read deadbeat, it’s explained more in-depth. otherwise, it’s merely referenced in a one-off statement.
for @toxiicpop‘s @25daysofchrismuts. merry christmas, everybody! (or, happy tuesday!)
Jon Moxley had been through a lot in his twenty-five years of life; he’d been abandoned, neglected, homeless … dropped out of school to pursue wrestling and made the absolutely stupid decision to try to turn that into his only income. Granted, that was years ago, and while it wasn’t like he was much different than he was, it’s still the first thing that’s not blown up in his face.
The second thing was currently gazing up at him from his bed, dark hair spread out around his face where sleep had previously made him serene, lips quirked up in that same-old amused grin of his; if he was being honest, sometimes Mox hated that grin, and the same could be said about this exact moment as he remembers just what today is and why Roman would have his face like that - that is, driving from Cincinnati to sunny Florida to spend Christmas with Roman’s family.
“Morning.” Roman’s voice in the morning - it’s still fucking dark outside! - is so low and dry, and Mox likes it a lot, but he really can’t find the energy to grin on today of all fucking days. “You ready to do this?”
“‘s it in poor taste to try ‘n sneak out now, or…?”
Roman only reaches up and messes with his already messed-up hair, and his shoulders fall a little, defeated. Not that Mox would actually leave, though he’d had plenty of opportunities, and Roman would never force him to stay if he ever were to seriously consider it. But he felt better when he was around Roman, like he chased away all the dark shit that used to haunt him and now felt so much further away than really was.
When Roman’s hand slides down to his cheek, Mox closes his eyes, breathes out his nose.
“It won’t be that bad. Pop’s become a gentle giant in his older age, and Mom’s a hugger. Just give her one and it’ll hold her off.”
A sigh through his nose again. “I ain’t one for hugs. You know that.” Roman, to prove a point or maybe by coincidence, scoots a little closer and bends at his hips to wrap his arms around Mox where he’s sitting up on his side of the bed, eyes staring down at the bunched blankets on his lap. His left hand instinctively reaches to rub the crazy dark mane down against his head, still casting off heat from when he was asleep.
“It’s just a couple days, Jon. I’m not expecting you to withstand more than you’re willing.” He speaks this into Mox’s side, his normal voice slowly making its way into his words in the last sentence. “My parents’ place can’t accommodate more than us three these days, so everyone else is either staying at hotels or at my cousins’ houses. I passed up on going last year so we could hang out here, and that was really nice, but I want to introduce you to my folks. Plus, you can experience what the rest of the east coast does when they run on down to my neck of the woods for the winter. What’ya say?”
They had talked about it on and off during the summer, and Mox knew that Roman wanted to go home, and that he wanted him to come. It’s not like Roman would force him to go, if he were to say ‘no’. The truth of it is, Mox isn’t really sure where to begin thinking about all the things that could go wrong, how they could hate him, how they might think he’s some street urchin looking to encroach on their family. He’s not sure how he’ll cope, but he knows one thing’s for certain--
“Fine. Fine, okay?” Mox says, words trapped in a sigh. Roman’s smile is felt against his bony hip, and he tries hard to keep his own off his face.
--this was going to be a very interesting Christmas in Florida.
Interesting was … certainly a word for it. For one thing, Roman wanted them to be out of the house so early in the morning, like barely four; both he and Mox had packed his giant SUV with their suitcases and a couple things JoJo wanted to show her cousins the night before, considering they had an almost 11-hour drive back to Florida, and he wanted to get going as soon as possible. He liked driving, was Roman’s answer to why they didn’t just fly, and he wanted JoJo and Mox to sleep if they so chose to. It gave him the option to go out and do so they didn’t have to pile into one of his parents’ cars or his sisters’. Mox could understand that - whenever he could, he drove to different venues to save on travel costs, but that was more or less because he enjoyed the quiet.
So they drove the 11-hours, stopping once to get a cup of coffee when their travel mugs were empty (JoJo got a hot chocolate with whipped cream, which she offered to share with Mox until she mushed a bit that was on her finger onto his nose. It made Roman laugh in that boisterous way he does, which makes the whole thing worth it, especially when Mox grabs him by his jacket-covered shoulder and smashes their faces together and rubs his whipped cream-covered nose all over his soft cheek.
This erupts in more laughter, but it’s Mox who’s laughing now.
The drive is long and it’s exhausting, and Mox is pretty sure he slept somewhere between hours 6 and 9, but when they finally make it into Florida, the sun is shining and he can see the streets bare of snow. Makes him appreciate the snow back home, all things considered, but he also totally gets why people on the east coast run to Florida, too.
JoJo was fast asleep in the back seat, which meant it was time for Roman to get into the Real Shit. The real Emotional shit.
Shit.
“Are you still nervous?” his voice holds no judgment, which gives Mox the slightest pause; he’d never had a serious relationship before, so he hadn’t really gotten to meet anyone’s parents that didn’t know him already and proceed to judge him harshly for choices he’d never made.
“Short answer? Yeah.”
“There’s a long answer?” this time, Roman’s voice carries with it a slight laugh, and he pulls onto a street. “Home stretch, by the way. ETA-ten minutes.”
Mox, to his credit, doesn’t get upset, even if that’s what he immediately feels. His hands raise in front of him, cupped slightly like he’s holding onto the words he wants to say. He then starts patting his lap anxiously. “I … well, ya know ‘bout all my stuff. I never did this sh...tuff before. I know what people say ‘bout me back home and ‘m sure yer’ family has the internet. I’m not known fer’ bein’ the type of guy you bring home t’your parents, Roman.”
A look crossed Roman’s face, and Mox can just tell he’d hurt him somehow, and he grits his teeth and sharply turns his head away. Internally, he’s kicking his own ass, because there’s no look worse than that of a Roman scorned. Had he hurt his feelings somehow? Did he say in no certain terms that he doesn’t want to be here? Because for all he’s nervous and worried that he might be kicked the fuck out, he does want to be here. He wants to meet the people who brought the most important person in the world to Cincinnati (with the cutest fucking kid, by the way) and, he was by no means a believer in ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ but it wouldn’t take much to believe it’s true when he’s talking about Roman and JoJo.
They pull into a huge driveway, but no one makes any moves to get out. JoJo’s started waking up, and Roman looks back at her with the fakest smile Mox has ever seen on his face, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
“Daddy, are we here?”
“Yeah, baby.” He honks the horn twice, probably to signal their arrival, and it makes Mox jump slightly. “Unbuckle and get your roller in the trunk.”
The jitters don’t cease when he hears JoJo unbuckle herself and open the door. In her hand is the stuffed dog she always carries with her, and Mox makes move to jump out of the car too, before Roman grabs him by the arm. Instinct dictates he tear his appendage away, but he doesn’t. He chances looking back, but Roman’s already in his space, and before he knows it they’re sharing a kiss that’s very pointed, very don’t you ever say that ever again, and Mox lets himself melt into it.
Roman’s hands are on each side of his face, and when they lean back, he regards him with a look full of something he wouldn’t have known anything about not too long ago, but knew it very well now.
“When we get in there, you’re not Jon Moxley the Wrestler. You’re not some seething dog with rabies, and I’ll be damned if anyone has anything to say about whatever they find on the internet. They’ll love you because I love you, because Jo loves you. When we get in there, you’re Jon, my daughter’s best friend and the person I share the most of my time with who isn’t wearing scrubs.”
Mox feels his lips quirk up in a smile that he’d claim was involuntary, but it brightens up the clouds in his head. “Love you.”
Roman grins, leans in to kiss his forehead, before he opens his own door. “Love you. Now alright, enough of this. Let’s get inside.”
“Yeah.”
It was exactly how Mox thought it would be, but man if he couldn’t still be shocked at just how many people were in Roman’s family; the majority was kids, probably two or three to each person, but there were plenty of men and women alike fitting in the front living space, sitting on sofas and loveseats and the floor.
The first to greet him, as he’s taking his boots off, is Lisa, Roman’s mother; she’s got on a maroon sweater and dark pants, a maroon and gold scarf-thing wrapped around her neck, and her eyes are alight when they walk in through the door. “I thought I heard a horn honking!” she says in greeting, already walking over to Roman to hug around his waist - he towers over her, which makes him bending over to hug her funny, and he would have laughed if he could breathe - and he kisses her forehead. “I’m so glad you all made it!” Turning to him, she smiles, “You must be Jon. Sorry this is your first impression, but we’re tossing you into the pond with the rest of us today.” When she moves to hug him, Roman’s eyes watch, and Mox wraps an arm around her for lack of knowledge on where to put it otherwise. “You want some coffee, tea, hot chocolate?”
JoJo, from behind him, shouts “Hot chocolate!” and she clutches onto Mox’s arm. “Want some, Moxxy?”
She has this weird, calming effect on him in that moment, and he looks down at her. “Yeah, sure.”
Lisa turns, but not without JoJo following her into the kitchen, and Roman reaches behind him to set his coat on the coat hanger to join the rest of his family’s.
“I’ll give you the quick tour and introduce you on the way to our room upstairs.”
Mox nods dumbly, letting Roman lead him away from the door.
As they walk the short ways to the staircase tucked into a small hallway, he tells him one by one who people are, starting with a pair of twins he introduces as Jimmy and Jey. The introductions are one, two, three done, not that Mox can withstand that much information in such a short burst, but he allows Roman to bring him and their suitcases - which Roman is carrying, all three of their suitcases in both of his hands - upstairs and into the guest bedroom, dropping off the third, smaller suitcase by a door past theirs.
“This is where you and I will be. Jo’s gonna sleep with her cousins, so we’ve got this bed all to ourselves…”
As he says this, Roman wraps his arms around his waist, pressing him close. It’s intimate, but Mox has long-since gotten over his fear of it, especially if it was Roman. They kiss, a short thing, before Roman pulls away to tend to setting out his pajamas and clothes for tomorrow on the vanity across from the bed.
Mox finds himself watching just long enough until his eyes catch his reflection in the mirror, at how disheveled he looked - god, he still looks fucking homeless, with his messy hair and naturally-droopy eyes and his baggy clothes - and he sighs. He sits on the bed, feeling it droop with his weight, and he throws himself backwards to sprawl; he’s still feeling every nerve in his body, his muscles constricting, and no amount of shaking them out works, even as he does so in the air above him. He even stands up and starts punching the air in front of him, how he usually warms up before a match, and he feels eyes on him again.
He shakes himself again.
“What can I do, Jon?” Roman’s voice is a touched amused, and that earns him a light glower where he’s standing opposite him. “How can I help?”
“‘side knocking me out with a mallet? Dunno. Like, what’s goin’ on the rest of the night?”
“Well, mom’s getting dinner finished up in the kitchen, which is probably where my sisters are. It’s not usually wicked crazy, despite how big the family is. After that and clean-up, we usually watch a few Christmas specials. We missed the really hectic stuff, but that’s why we did our Christmas yesterday.” Mox remembers: Roman closed the clinic in the morning and the three opened presents and watched Christmas specials on TV. Roman and Mox tag-teamed a quick dinner of cold-cut sandwiches and soup to combat the cold, and when JoJo went to sleep, they two packed the car and went to bed. It was always surreal to a guy who’d not really had fun Christmases growing up to have them with people who’d become his family.
Roman finishes what he’s doing and sits on the bed where Mox had just been sprawled, and he grabs Mox by his hips and spins him toward him. It doesn’t take much, since Mox isn’t the heaviest guy and he doesn’t really fight back either, just stumbles slightly and rests his hands on Roman’s shoulders. “Can’t just grab a guy, I’m liable to kick your ass.”
Quirk of his lips, then, “I’m liable to do somethin’ to your ass, but kicking it isn’t one of them.”
This development makes Mox smirk. “Yeah? Wanna tell me what you’d do then?”
“Jon Moxley, are you asking me to have sex with you while my family is downstairs?”
His smirk turns dirtier. “What’re you gonna do about it, doctor?”
Something lights up in Roman’s eyes then as he pulls Mox’s face down and kisses him hard. Bit by bit, Roman pulls Mox flush against him, wraps his arms around his waist, and digs his fingertips into his back to paw him closer. This makes a guttural sound escape Mox’s lips, which makes Roman pull away enough to say, “Sh,” and that sets off a multitude of things in the pit of his stomach.
There were plenty of times when being quiet was mandatory, but things had gotten easier for them when Jo started school and Roman moved into his own house. They were within decent proximity to each other, so when things got slow, he left Bayley in charge and came home. But with their current schedules and Mox’s growing popularity around different promotions, however, they found fewer and fewer time to be alone like they were now, and Mox wasn’t a squeamish guy, he didn’t particularly care if there were people downstairs. Didn’t seem like Roman did, either, as he stands up and brings Mox with him.
“You seemed to be so into your reflection a second ago. Ever wonder what you’ll look like while I demonstrate?”
Mox only has a second to wonder just what he means, this ‘demonstration’, before he’s pinned to the vanity by Roman’s hips. His fingers scramble across the top of it, and a soft, deep groan sticks in his throat as the anticipation of what’s to come takes him over. He hears, not sees, Roman unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of the loops of his jeans - he always looks so fucking hot in these jeans, too, with his stupid perfect ass - and he questions for a minute if he’s going to risk their privacy in favor of some sharp slaps to his ass.
...he feels his dick swell at the thought. He’d always liked the idea of someone watching someone fuck him. Or the other way around - it was an occupational hazard, but he liked people’s eyes on him.
Contrary to his thoughts, he merely coils the belt in a perfect circle on top of the vanity, which makes him tilt his head at it before he looks up in the mirror to try to find Roman’s eyes. Unfortunately, he’s not looking, is looking down at something and Mox is half a second away from turning around and demanding his attention before he feels Roman’s hands pulling his pants down.
“‘s about time ya started doin’ somethin’,” his voice isn’t much more than a rasp. “Thought I was gonna have to take care of m’self.”
“That ain’t necessary, babe. I’m gonna take really good care of you.” Roman’s fingers hook into his underwear and slide them down. “Now look at the mirror.”
He’s got half a mind to say ‘don’t tell me what to do’ but he’s not an idiot, he’s not about to risk not getting whatever Roman’s giving, so he breathes hard through his nose and looks into the mirror before he feels a couple fingers slipping between his ass cheeks. He watches his throat bob with a gulp and his eyes flick up into his reflection’s, blue eyes dark with lust and jaw working slightly as he does his best not to react. He’s not about to see himself get … oh, a finger, now wet and slightly cold, just slipped inside him.
His lower lip gets sucked into his mouth and he ducks his head, because he doesn’t want to see himself like that. His hips gyrate a little, getting Roman’s finger moving, and he feels Roman’s other hand spreading his thighs a little bit. He spreads his legs slightly, and he feels Roman pulling him back. When he pushes his body downward, Mox has to put his arms out and he folds them so he can hold himself up by his elbows, and before he knows it, a second fingers slips inside him. He’s getting slicker, probably from the lube on the second finger, and he exhales hard to avoid moaning into the quiet bedroom.
“Look, Mox.”
“No. ‘s … embarrassing.”
“Jon,” he punctuates Mox’s name with a crook of his fingers, which makes his body jerk, which makes his head shoot up and back. “Look.”
Blue eyes flicker to his reflection, at where his cheeks have started to flush a little from exertion it’s taking to be fucking quiet and it’s making this whole thing set his gut working in circles. Screw butterflies, there are fighter jets flying around in there, some sent downward, making his swelling dick still entrapped in his briefs just barely twitch and thrum. His fingers scratch the surface of the top of the vanity, short nails desperate to carve what he doesn’t want to say or be seen or admit to feeling right now into it so it could remember it as much as he will. Roman’s fingers thrust, dip, angle, press, Oh.
He said that out loud. Oh, god. His face flushes, eyes alight, embarrassment and lust blooming on every bit of skin visible.
“Like that, huh? I like it too. Like what happens when I do this-” right on his fucking prostate, what a bastard, “-and your whole body moves.” He does it again, and his back arches, and Mox is pretty sure he’s in a constant state of Fuck You and Fuck Me and he leans his head down and bites into his arm hard enough to bruise. “I think you’re set. Want I should--”
Before Roman fully has his fingers pulled out from inside him, Mox reaches back and grabs his wrist like a vice, fingers shaking. “Do not. Come on.”
With a low chuckle - sometimes Roman gets like that, a little dark, and in any other context Mox would definitely be a fan - Roman comes up on him, reaching his hand around the crown of Mox’s head and tugging his body backwards so his back bows a little. Mox’s body bends, strains, and Roman pulls him in close, his arousal pressed against his ass, getting him to relax before they move forward. “You’ll get what you want, baby. Just relax.”
It takes a minute, because he’s so fucking hot right now for the man at his back, but Mox’s back finally smooths from it’s bowed state and he gets himself leaned against the vanity once more, arms straight, bruising on one from where he’d bitten showing bright against his pale skin in the mirror. Roman lowers their pants almost simultaneously and with another couple squirts of lube, he places his hands on Mox’s hips and eases him up on his tiptoes so he can align himself, and he pushes.
For Mox, it’s sweet, sweet relief, and this time his eyes stare right into the mirror. And this time, Roman’s eyes and a smile find him back, and everything feels good, makes sense, and Roman moves. They have to finagle a bit, find a good angle, but eventually Mox’s foot is balanced on the middle drawer from the bottom and Roman’s got his hand in Mox’s dusty-brown curls and he’s pounding hard into him. Every attempt at being quiet has been abandoned, for the vanity’s making enough noise for the both of them, banging against the wall and creaking under the unexpected extra weight.
Mox’s face is flushed and glistening with sweat, and there’s a bubble of dribble on his lip that makes his tongue loll out and lick it away. Roman chases his tongue, pulling his face in for a deep kiss, and his speed increases, both to Mox’s glee and chagrin as his now-erect dick leaks and bounces and oh this feels so fucking good.
His mouth starts flapping when Roman keeps hitting his spot over, and over, and he wants to warn him that I’m gonna cum but he just can’t will his voice to be heard right now. Roman seems to get it, though, because he angles himself just right where every thrust hits his prostate and Mox’s vision starts turning to static, his eyes squeezing shut where they’d been transfixed on their reflections in the mirror, and he feels fireworks exploding from every pore in his body.
Roman’s body bends over him, trapping the sweltering warmth between his chest and Mox’s still shirt-clad back and he doesn’t need more than a few pointed thrusts before the clenching warmth around him brings him over the edge to join Mox, and they all but collapse on the vanity together, panting.
For a minute, they don’t say anything. But Roman’s the first to catch his breath, and when he does, he slowly peels himself off of Mox’s back and rubs his hand up underneath his tee shirt against his warm, sticky skin. “You think they noticed we didn’t go back down?”
When Mox catches his breath he sits up, slipping himself off Roman’s softening length and running his fingers through his sweat-curled hair. “More’n that … think dinner’s ready?”
Roman chucks a laugh, peeling his shirt off and wiping down Mox’s sweat-sticky back and shoulders and leans down to mouth kisses on the back of his neck. Before he tosses the soiled shirt toward his suitcase - he would probably wash their clothes separately from Roman’s parents - he wipes himself off too, a little haphazard around his chest and stomach and finally his dick before it’s thrown aside. He tucks himself into his pants, Mox pulling his own up, business as usual -- before Mox feels the sudden need to … well, he does, spin around and plant a kiss right on Roman’s lips.
“Think we’ll need’ta reimburse for the thing or whatever?”
Roman looks back at it, up and down, and pushes in the drawer on the left. “We didn’t get anything on it. I don’t think so.”
“Think when we get home we can do that again?”
Grin. “We’ll see if you’ve been good.”
“Oh, fuck that.”
They dress and banter, Mox going the extra mile to change into a clean shirt and tossing his sweaty shirt with Roman’s on the floor, and when they’re ready to make their exit, Roman’s mother calls up the stairs for them.
“Jon! Roman! Your suppers are getting cold!”
Mox doesn’t really see it, but he hears the snort deep in Roman’s throat, and he turns around just in time to feel Roman slip his hand into the back pocket of Mox’s jeans. “I was raised on the rule that you couldn’t have sweets before supper, but since it’s Christmas, I’ll make an exception.”
“Yer’ fuckin’ dumb.”
Roman’s echoing giggle makes it hard for him not to smile, but he quickly sobers when they make it to the dining room, which is full with family members. Jo is sitting at a small table to the side with her other young cousins, and as they walk by, Mox ruffles her hair enough that it messes up slightly and both JoJo and Roman make indignant noises before they’re greeted warmly by Roman’s family. They both take their seats, Mox with a little bit of … fidgeting, to get comfortable - he sends Roman a glare as the side of his lips quirk up, the bastard - and they are sucked into conversation and delicious food and honestly, he’s not used to being treated like he was an actual part of the family already.
It was definitely an interesting Christmas in Florida, but Mox is pretty sure it’s one he wouldn’t mind doing again next year.
