heard from a little birdie that you were going through writer's block, hopefully you have time to exercise those fingers with a special prompt!! <33
— ambreigns, mile high club. ;)
ahh this was a great exercise i loved writing this, anon! i hope you enjoy (: this is around 2k and it's explicit
-
Dean would feel embarrassed if he wasn't so fucking hard.
As it was (it being his insanely hard cock pressing up against his jeans, making an unmistakable tent), he could hardly feel embarrassed when there were much better things he could be doing— one brilliant idea being to wake up Roman, who was peacefully sleeping beside him, to help him with his problem.
“Ro,” he whispered, nudging his side. “Ro, wake up.”
Roman had little buds in his ears so Dean pulled them out by the wire abruptly, but his boyfriend still didn’t budge— un-fucking-believable. Was it too much to get a handie in this day and age? 35,000 feet in the air?
Considering what they were coming back from, he couldn’t really blame Roman— Night of Champions, against the Wyatt family, and Jericho costing them the match after they went through the ringer. It was Roman’s idea to choose Jericho and Dean had already had to tell him it wasn’t his fault if Jericho couldn’t be a team-player. Dean just wanted to get his hands around his neck, or maybe the Wyatts— didn’t really matter to him, to be honest. He had been tired, too, and had fallen asleep as soon as they had taken off.
Up until dreamland seemed to lead him back to the match, but this time it was without anyone else in the ring except him and Roman. Roman, with his hair wet and everywhere, crawling over to get the tag, only to pull himself up, biceps flexing, letting Dean grab his face and—
He elbowed Roman’s side harder.
Roman woke with a grunt, eyebrows furrowing as he blearily looked at Dean. “Wha'? Dean?”
Dean could feel that his cheeks were flushed and he brought a hand up to mess with his hair a bit. “Wake up.”
The rest of the plane around them was quiet, them being on the red-eye back to Orlando, and Roman was wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes. “Why?” Even clearly half-asleep, Dean felt his heart do a couple of acrobatic flips when Roman met his eyes. He was always so— so everything, but now, bun a mess and a warm look in his eyes, not even cranky at Dean, just tired and curious, he was cute, a word that Dean didn’t use too often but couldn’t help but use with Roman like this.
He was getting distracted. He grabbed Roman’s hand where it was resting on his thigh and put on his best suggestive look. “‘Cause,” he said, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip once. “You ever wanna join the mile high club?”
Oh, now he’s waking up. “What?” he hissed out, sitting up straighter.
Dean dropped his hand to squeeze his thigh twice. “We headed straight to the plane, we didn’t get to— y’know, work out the post-match stresses.”
Roman was shifting in his seat, so easy to work up when there was still a fight thrumming under his skin. “And you want to do it here? We’re like—” he glanced down at his phone, “—like, thirty minutes from landing.”
“Well, Roman, I don’t think it’ll take thirty minutes and I’d be happy to be proven right,” Dean said, still smirking a bit, and Roman’s eyes flickered down to his jeans before rolling his eyes.
“You’re so—” the other man cut himself off, shutting off his phone and stuffing it and his headphones into the bag between them.
Dean perked up. “Wait, does this mean—”
“I’m headed to the bathroom,” Roman told him, “could you maybe check if it’s locked behind me?”
Dean’s cock throbbed in his jeans, and he adjusted himself, nodding frantically, watching Roman devotedly as Roman gave him an exasperated but happy little smile as he got out of his seat.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Dean leaned over, eyes moving up and down the row— people asleep or on their phones, attendants’ attention diverted.
Four seconds. Five seconds—
Good enough. He hustled out of his seat and did a terribly unsubtle walk to the bathroom, heading in without waiting around long enough that anyone questioned it.
He locked the door, twisting around only to see Roman not even a foot away, already palming himself, hand pressed under his sweatpants. Dean dropped back against the door, a hand up to his mouth to muffle his groan at the sight. Roman’s cheeks warmed up.
The stall was small but it wasn't any different than some of the other places that they’ve gotten up to shit like this— Dean always asking, pressing Roman’s buttons until Roman couldn’t resist, big hands grasping Dean’s tightly as they ducked out into closets, stalls, corners, heads ducked close, breathless as they crowded together.
There was enough room to breathe in here but it was just small enough that when Dean surged forward, taking Roman’s mouth with his own, Roman was already pressed up against the counter behind him, both of them arching into one another, Dean wrapping his arms around him, Roman grabbing his face, all of it so fucking— it was always so fucking good with him, Dean could never get tired of the feeling of it, of how Roman’s broad body felt against his own, the way his strong hands would grip at him endlessly.
“Fuck, you looked so good tonight, I couldn’t— Couldn’t wait, Ro, I couldn’t,” he panted out.
“I know, I—” Roman was ducking his face into Dean’s neck, kissing across it hungrily, as Dean let his hands push up under Roman’s shirt, feeling across his back, how the muscles rippled for him, “—you’re always so ready for me, so—”
Their hips rolled against one another, nearly perfectly in sync, and Dean let out a helpless little huff of a laugh against Roman’s hair, their clothed cocks rubbing against one another for a drawn out moment where Dean struggled to think straight and Roman grasped at his ass needily.
And then Roman was twisting them, their positions switched before he was picking Dean up just a bit until Dean was sitting on the bathroom counter top, putting space in between them. Dean looked at him, lost. “Wha— Why, come on—”
But he cut himself off with a choking noise when Roman dropped to his knees between his legs, a dark look in his eyes as he kept them on Dean.
Who swallowed, gripping the edge of the countertop tightly, “Ro,” spilling out of his mouth, “whatcha doing down there?”
Roman laid one hand on Dean’s thigh, the other fiddling with the zipper of his jeans. “Thought we were joining the club, hm?”
When Dean had said that, he imagined them maybe jacking each other off, maybe humping it out and trying to avoid getting anything unseemly on their shirts, not Roman on his knees, looking up at him with heavily lidded eyes, unzipping him and mouthing at him through his briefs—
“Yeah, yeah, yep,” he was saying, voice higher-pitched than usual. “Yep, that’s what we’re doing, hell, yeah.”
Roman chuckled, charmed smile across his lips. “Alright, big guy, wanna help me get these off?”
Dean was holding himself up with one arm, pushing down his jeans and briefs with the other within the second, his cock jutting up between them. “C’mon, Ro, I want it so bad—” and then—
And then Roman’s mouth was on him, taking him halfway down, one hand curled around his base, and Dean could only moan. Loud.
Roman pulled off of him, giving him an admonishing look that was less biting than he might've wanted it to be considering that he was jacking Dean with the layer of spit he left behind. “Gotta be quiet, D,” he teased, leaning down to lick a stripe up the underside of his cock. “Can’t have anyone knocking and seeing us, hm?”
Heat and desire rolled around Dean’s stomach as he nodded, staring down at Roman, biting on his lip hard to muffle any noises.
Lips back against the head of his cock, pursed, sucking against him until Roman took just the tip in, swirling his tongue around it, tonguing at the slit. Dean was panting, face flushed hot, one hand gripping the countertop while the other flew to Roman’s head, fingers in his hair. Roman let out an appreciative noise, taking him deeper, the sound vibrating around Dean deliciously.
“Fuck, Ro, your mouth is so fucking good.” Dean’s fingers were against Ro’s scalp now, practically petting him until Roman moved his tongue sinfully against him, Dean’s grip tightening to gain some control. “Absolute best head ever, 10/10.”
Roman rolled his eyes, smiling around Dean’s dick, before he was taking a deep breath in through his nose and—
Even knowing he was gonna do it, Dean had to bury a fist in his mouth to stop the loud moan from tumbling out, his hips bucking up as Roman deep-throated him. Roman gagged a bit with the unexpected thrust but he didn’t pull off, just groaned around Dean, eyes going heavier as he drooled around Dean.
“Fuck,” Dean cursed heartily, rubbing the back of his knuckles across Roman’s cheekbone. Roman’s eyelashes fluttered. “How’d I get so lucky, hm?”
A pretty fluster before Roman started moving again, sucking Dean off masterfully, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat almost rhythmically, Roman eagerly choking himself on Dean’s cock and then—
Roman intertwined his fingers with Dean’s hand that was still in his hair and then he was nudging them. Dean had to shut his eyes for a second before croaking out, “You— You want me to…”
A wet noise as Roman pulled all the way off, his lips still hovering near Dean’s tip. “Face-fuck me,” he said, voice hoarse, before dropping his jaw completely and—
Dean buried his cock back into his mouth, sliding off the counter completely so that he could properly fuck into Roman, trembling with his thrusts as he held Roman still, hips pistoning. Roman moaned around him, taking it so well, eyes closed as he kept pliant but— Dean could see how his arm was moving, knew he was jacking off to it, so hot and heavy, just from Dean’s cock in his mouth.
“So perfect for me, so perfect, Ro, can’t stop— God, you’re just—” Dean couldn’t get a single coherent thought out, so enamored by Roman’s perfect mouth, how he was working quicker, so hot from it, and— “I’m close, Ro, I’m close, are you—”
And then Roman was gasping around his cock, throat clenching, and his body wracking as—
“Are you—?” Dean gasped out, and Roman nodded frantically as he rode out his orgasm, blissful look over his face, and Dean couldn’t help himself any more, hips snapping in hard, and— “I’m gonna come, Ro, let me pull out—” but Roman was holding onto Dean’s ass, keeping him close, and then Dean was finishing hard, filling up Roman’s mouth.
He fell back against the counter, fucked-out, eyes still fixed on the perfect image of Roman on his knees. A line of cum was creeping from his mouth. Roman visibly swallowed, expression still so blissful, and Dean was falling to his knees in front of him, bringing a hand up to push the cum back into his mouth. Roman’s eyes opened, and he sucked Dean’s thumb gently before parting his lips.
Dean pressed forward, kissing him deeply, tasting himself on his tongue. It was a good taste, him and Roman combined, and Roman hummed like he felt the same. Dean’s chest was warm when they pulled away.
They leaned against one another, forehead to forehead, smiling a bit dopily at each other.
“Y’think there’s any chance no one heard all that?” Dean asked him, some amusement and some hysteria at what they just did.
Roman kissed him again. “No way in hell, D.”
