Chapter Text
Late summer rain pelted the window, steady and relentless, a lovely accompaniment to the desperate moans filling the room. The big professional football player had his bookworm boyfriend on the edge of the wide window seat, smooth sun-kissed thighs hooked over thick brown forearms, strong hands on slim waist effortlessly holding the smaller man in place. Each languid roll of Roman’s hips speared his cock deep into Cody’s tight channel. The fat tip dancing over the younger man’s prostate eliciting those sweet moans, and he had every intention of making it last all afternoon.
“Oooohhh, yes, Daddy, you feel so good. Fill me with your big cock.” Filth dripped from Cody’s bitten red lips, brunette head thumped back against the glass, spine arcing to give the big man a new angle. Complete surrender to the pleasurable assault on his insides. Roman sped up, but only slightly, as lightning cracked the sky and thunder shook the window. Every slide of Roman’s huge cock through his boy’s willing body rewarded with a whine and a “Yes! Daddy! Fuck me so good, Daddy!”
Roman looked down at his favorite sight; a blissed-out Cody impaled on his cock, taking every inch, everything Roman wanted to give him, that cute diamond stud in his nose catching the dimmed light, his own erection bouncing between their bodies with every thrust, throbbing and weeping clear liquid. But Cody kept his hands at his sides like a good boy, fingers gripping on the painted wood. The rain hit the window with hurricane force, and Roman fucked into Cody with the same intensity. Hips jackhammering, heavy balls slapping against the smaller man’s ass, sweaty bodies colliding until the line between ecstasy and needing release blurred. Cody’s debauched cries and Roman’s low grunts were a heady combination as they chased that rapturous summit. Cody felt so full, his swollen, sensitive hole stretched around Roman’s absurdly thick cock; the veiny flesh scraping his walls with every push and pull until the pressure became too much.
“Daddy,” he begged, breathless, “please let me come. I need - oh! Oh! Oh!” Then Cody screamed, a guttural unintelligible sound, when Roman’s hand squeezed his neglected cock at the same time his own rammed into Cody’s prostate. The brunette arched off the window ledge, body tensing as he came, milky semen spurting onto Roman’s hand and his own abdomen. Cody’s hole fluttered and tightened like a vice, sending Roman over the edge. He groaned out his orgasm, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into his panting boy’s sweet ass.
While still connected, Roman easily lifted his smaller boyfriend by the torso and walked the few feet to deposit him onto their king-sized bed. Cody gasped when Roman pulled out, filled so full with cum that some leaked out. Roman gathered it up with his thumb and pushed it back into Cody’s raw rim, causing the younger man to jolt and whine. Then Cody, limp and unable to move, watched through drooping eyes as the huge Samoan straddled his left leg and dipped his head, sinful tongue tracing the ridges of Cody’s abs and around his belly button, lapping up every last drop of his release like it was the only sustenance he needed.
When he had his fill, Roman palmed the back of Cody’s head, leaning over to kiss those plush red lips, offering Cody a taste of himself, “So sweet, baby boy. Such a good boy for me.”
“Mmm,” Cody murmured against the Samoan’s commanding mouth, “I love you, Roman.”
Roman pulled back to stare down at his wrecked and beautiful lover. The flush staining his cheeks, sweat sheening his lithe body, those crazy blue eyes trying so hard to stay open, that handsome boyish face so open and honest; relaxed and content. Roman’s heart swelled with pride and wonder that this gorgeous genius was his. He’s still not sure what compelled him to step into that small independent bookstore on Peachtree three years ago. He is the superstar tight end of the Atlanta Falcons, not exactly known for being a voracious reader unless it was a playbook or sports magazine that probably had his picture on the cover. But when a cute young brunette with a small diamond in his nose, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and a slight lisp flashed that sunny smile with a “Hi, I’m Cody. How can I help you?”, Roman suddenly hadn’t wanted to be anywhere else. Cody had not been single at the time, but that didn’t stop him from falling into Roman’s bed a month later, and several times after that. It took a year for them to put a label on what they were; a situation-ship to relationship, though only their closest friends know. And Cody’s ex.
“Love you too, Nightmare,” Roman wrapped the smaller man up in his arms so his chin rested on the crown of his head. Cody grinned at the fond nickname, their inside joke from the first time Roman invited Cody into his expansive luxury penthouse apartment. Cody had said something about him being the American Dream. Roman had retorted by calling Cody his American Nightmare, a direct contrast to everything Roman had been, had believed in, up to that point. Roman had been blunt from the start. As professional athlete, especially a testosterone-filled star and one of the highest paid in a rough and tumble sport, Roman had a certain image and reputation to maintain; so said his agent, so said his coaches, so said the atmosphere of the locker room. So said his father. They couldn’t be public. Which meant no romantic beach getaways, no being whisked away to Paris or Dubai or wherever rich people vacationed, and definitely no dinners for two at Atlanta’s fanciest restaurants. Roman couldn’t take Cody home to meet his parents, and they had to be extra cautious whenever they visited Cody’s family in Marietta because who knows where the paparazzi lurked. Lately, it seemed like they were everywhere. Roman couldn’t even go to the gym without his picture being taken.
Regardless, the nickname, and Cody, had stayed. Roman’s huge penthouse became their own private sanctuary where they were free to be; to exist in each other’s orbits. Where Roman could hold Cody’s hand while they watched a movie together, where Cody could greet his boyfriend with a kiss and massage his sore muscles after a grueling practice, where they could finish off a bottle of wine while talking for hours in the hot tub. This bed the altar where they worshipped each other’s bodies, entwined their souls and confessed their love. Cody was fine with it. He had to be if it was the only way he could be with Roman.
“Babe?”
“Hmm,” came Roman’s sleepy mumble as he nuzzled his bearded chin deeper into Cody’s soft hair.
“You do know what day it is, right?” Cody asked without moving from his Roman cocoon.
Though training camp had started, the days still blended together for Roman like when he was a kid on summer break from school. Technically, he still did get a summer break, though was required to make occasional media appearances and keep his strict, regimented workout schedule. But for the most part, he could turn that part of his brain off from the end of the post-season in February until it started again in early September. Grumbling, Roman raised his left arm to see the face of the platinum Day-Date Rolex.
“‘s Tuesday,” he squinted at the small print before relaxing back on the bed and planting a soft kiss atop Cody’s head. It took another few seconds for it to register, but when it did Roman groaned and rolled onto his back, pulling Cody with him to sprawl across his torso. “They’ll be fine without us this week. I had plans to stay right here in this bed and try some new ways to make my boy come.”
Cody lifted up onto his elbows, grinning down at the older man, combing his fingertips through the dark stubble of Roman’s beard before cupping his chin, “As delightful as that sounds, and we can get back to that later, I want to go, babe. It’s like the one time we can actually go out together and at least hold hands.”
“Not tonight, Nightmare,” Roman grabbed Cody’s wrist to plant an apologetic kiss in the center of his palm. “Dean is bringing somebody. You better behave.”
“Me!” Cody protested. “May I remind you who just fucked me into the window ledge because my shorts were too tight?”
“Those things make your ass look sinful!” Roman defended, hands grabbing at his boyfriend’s well-sculpted backside. His cock twitched at the memory of Cody doing yoga, in downward dog, every thread of those tiny orange workout shorts working overtime to contain all….that. “Babe, in what world did you think you could get away with parading around in those and not get absolutely wrecked? You best not be wearin’ those ‘round town.”
“I was planning to wear them out tonight, actually,” Cody goaded because he just couldn’t help riling up Roman. He was a jealous and overprotective man, qualities his former partners found stifling, but Cody didn’t mind. It made him feel desired and cherished, and the sex mind-blowing. It’s not like Roman inserted his dominance into every aspect of Cody’s life, telling him who he could or could not see or where he could and could not go. Not like Randy had.
The sharp smack on his ass pushed those dark thoughts away, grounding him back in the reality of Roman’s bed and the big hands that couldn’t seem to get enough of his body. Roman growled, “Behave, pretty boy.” A promise as much as it was a warning.
Cody grinned, tongue teasing over his lips, blue eyes full of mischief, “Or what? You’ll spank me, Daddy?”
“Misbehave and you’ll find out.”
Tuesday nights were for the boys, and Cody considered it sacred time. They had been hanging out with Roman’s two best friends and Cody’s two best friends every Tuesday night for the past year. It was the only night all six of them had free at the same time. Roman didn’t have games or late practices, and rarely had meetings on Tuesdays, and even if Cody had to work, the bookstore closed at 7pm. He could walk or take an Uber to the bar and still make it by 7:30pm. Sometimes all six of them were there and sometimes it was just three or four, but the invitation stood. It was the one reprieve Roman and Cody had from the penthouse because the bar was co-owned by Roman’s friend and teammate, Seth Rollins. The security was the best money could buy, the guest list exclusive, and cellphones confiscated under the guise of promoting actual face-to-face interaction. Seth was also the only other guy in the entire NFL who was privy to Roman’s sexual proclivities. Roman claims they had only been friends with benefits and had stopped sleeping together long before Cody came along, but sometimes Seth looked at Roman with a longing that made Cody suspect they had meant more to each other than the occasional fuck.
And sometimes Roman’s espresso gaze lingered too long when he thought no one was looking, edged in a softness that hinted at….regret? Cody did notice, though. His hand would clench around his drink and his stomach would lurch into his throat, but the rational part of his brain would tell him he’s being ridiculous. He would drink the rest of his thoughts away and let Roman take him home to do unspeakable things in their bed. Tonight, everyone was supposed to be there, and Roman’s famously afraid of commitment friend, Dean, was bringing a “friend”, so Cody was sure they would be distracted enough that Seth would keep those doe eyes to himself.
Showering together was Roman’s form of aftercare, and though that had to hurry, Cody would not deny him. He massaged the shampoo into Cody’s scalp. Those calloused hands, capable of taking down men twice Cody’s size, gentle as they worked the product through his short hair before guiding him under the hot spray to rinse it out. Roman repeated the action with the conditioner before washing his own much longer dark curls. But instead of reaching for the body wash next, Roman squeezed the meat of Cody’s ass and used his much larger frame to his advantage. Suddenly, Cody found himself pressed up against the tile wall, stuffed once again with his favorite thick Samoan cock. Roman’s low rumble whispered sweet nothings as his hips pumped in deep, long strokes. One arm wrapped around to jerk Cody off in rhythm with his thrusts. It wasn’t long, with the way Cody’s tight heat fluttered around Roman’s already over-sensitive cock, before they whined and orgasmed together. Roman’s pulsing cock shooting his semen deep in his boy’s ass while Cody’s fell in milky ropes to the shower floor, mixing with the water and disappearing down the drain.
Roman dropped a wet kiss to the back of Cody’s neck as he pulled out, reaching for the body wash like he didn’t just render his boyfriend dumb with his own cock. It was an intoxicating feeling, to know that he could reduce mouthy, 167 IQ Cody Rhodes to a whimpering mess, and even more amazing that Cody allowed him to over and over again. Roman never wanted to take advantage of that privilege, of Cody’s absolute faith in him that he would not break his heart. Some days, Roman felt like he would never measure up, never be what Cody deserved. He wasn’t particularly smart, and sometimes he wondered if he was capable of providing the stimulating conversation Cody craved. Cody didn’t talk to Roman about his interests much; about books he was reading or things he was writing.
Once, in the beginning, when they were still getting to know each other and sneaking around in the shadows behind Randy’s back, Cody had quoted something about meeting in the place where there is no darkness. Roman must have looked puzzled, or maybe just outright dumb, because Cody asked if he had read George Orwell’s 1984 in high school. Roman probably had, but most certainly had not retained it. He had made a joke, teasing that he had been more into the muscle-y type than the brainy type in high school. Cody had smiled and blushed, but Roman remembered it didn’t quite reach his eyes. And he hasn’t quoted a book to Roman since.
It did not escape Roman that Cody was young and outgoing, unafraid of who he was. He should be dancing in clubs and cultivating a social life rather than spending quiet nights in the penthouse with a bottle of wine and his introverted boyfriend. Cody was out and proud, and had been in a fairly high-profile relationship with an up-and-coming pro wrestler when they met. Whereas being with Roman forced him to hide, lie and sign NDAs that only protected Roman and would leave Cody out to dry if violated. None of this was fair to Cody. Yet he stayed. And compromised. And trusted. Roman couldn’t even find the proper vocabulary to thank him for it or to express how much it means to him. He hoped his actions said what his words could not.
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The bar was crowded for a Tuesday night, forcing Cody to weave through isolated groups of people standing at high-top tables and congregated around the pool tables and dart boards as he made his way to their usual table in the back. There were no games back there, less people, the lighting a little darker, more private. Roman, who had been escorted by security through the back door to avoid being unnecessarily noticed by random strangers at the bar, was already seated with the rest of their friends. He pulled out the empty chair to his right for Cody to sit. Dean and his friend were to Roman’s left, Matt and Kevin across from Cody, which meant Seth sat directly across the table from Roman. Perfect eye shot for them to exchange secret meaning glances all night. Cody could make himself damn annoying if he had to, especially after a few vodka sodas. But there were rules tonight with Dean’s extra person around. Behave. Roman’s deep voice rumbled around in his head, and as much as he hated being told what to do and was curious what Roman would do to him if he didn’t, Cody wasn’t willing to blow up their entire relationship over his pride.
So he ordered a vodka sodas and wandered over to introduce himself to Dean’s so-called friend while Matt, an MMA fighter, and Kevin, a metro Atlanta police officer, swapped work stories. Smiling wide, he held out his hand, “Hi, I’m Cody.”
The guy turned his full body in his chair to face Cody, smile polite as he briefly shook Cody’s hand, “Bryan.” He was kind of cute, brown hair buzzed on the bottom and long on top, pulled back in a little ponytail at the back of his head. His eyes looked hazel in the dim light, focused on Cody like he was peering into his soul, and Cody noticed his pronounced cupid’s bow lips as he spoke.
“So how do you know Dean?” Cody nodded his head toward where Dean, Roman and Seth were engaged in what looked like a very intense conversation about football.
Bryan blinked, taking a swig of his beer before answering, “Oh, we met at the hospital. I’m an ER nurse, and he was on an EMT rotation for the fire department. He brought in an elderly couple with carbon monoxide poisoning, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Wow, that’s intense,” Cody commented as he sipped his drink. “It was the dimples, right? And that stupid floppy hair?”
Bryan laughed, face flushing, “Yeah, something like that.”
“So are you guys, like, together?”
“No!” Bryan said a little too loudly. Probably realizing it, he lowered his voice, eyes flicking to his drink, the wall behind Cody, as he fidgeted and sipped his beer. “I-I mean, no, we’re, um, we’re just friends, you know?”
Just then, Dean turned, holding up his empty beer glass, grin so wide and earnest that the dimples in his cheeks were on full display. His baby blues sparkled, their full radiance directed at Bryan, and Cody thought he had never seen Dean look so happy.
“Hey, babe, I’m gonna go to the bar. You want another?” Dean’s voice, usually a slow, almost bored-sounding growl, carried a lilt that Cody couldn’t remember hearing in the two years he had known the man.
Bryan looked down at his beer, still three-quarters of the way full, and Cody swore he saw something uncomfortable flash across his grey-blue eyes, but his smile was calm as he responded, “Naw, I’m good, thanks though.”
Dean’s smile slipped for a second. Cody’s chest clenched for the man he had acquired a fondness for, offering up his almost-empty drink, “I’ll take another one, Dean! Vodka soda, please!” And just like that, the playfulness was back. Dean winked and ambled off on his alcohol mission. Cody’s brain screamed at him to leave it alone, to not say anything about the awkward exchange he had just witnessed, but the words were already forming in his mouth before he could take them back.
“I don’t think he thinks you’re just friends.”
It was meant to be harmless teasing, Cody waggling his eyebrows as he finished the last of his drink, but there was no mirth in the other man’s expression.
“This guy talking your ear off?” Seth’s nasally Midwestern voice cut in, nudging Bryan with his wide shoulder and that sly smirk showing off the gap between his otherwise perfect white teeth. Cody narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips with no intention of continuing this conversation if Seth was going to be involved. He excused himself back to the other side of the table, but that interaction with Bryan left him feeling uneasy, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.
As the night wore on, and the drinks kept coming, their conversation became the banter and laughter of friends who knew each other well. Roman told stories of the hijinks Dean pulled him into when they were in college, and Kevin easily had everyone in uproarious laughter with the idiotic people he had to deal with as a beat cop. After three vodka sodas, Cody’s inhibitions, as limited as they were when he was sober, were completely gone, and he became handsy with everyone. Several times his hand drifted under the table to grope Roman’s knee or roam up his thigh until he could trace the outline of the chub in Roman’s pants. That earned him a pinch on his side and a warning of “Behave” in his ear, making him shiver. He grinned innocently at his boyfriend, eyes droopy from the alcohol, but he kept his hands off the growly Samoan for the remainder of the night.
At some point, Cody was practically sitting in Matt’s lap, but his vodka-addled brain still registered Roman’s curled lip, the tic of his strong jaw, and the possessive fire in his dark eyes. His loss. Cody didn’t have to hide his gay, and he wouldn’t. Besides, it’s not like Matt was going to catch feelings. They had been best friends since Kindergarten, and Cody was absolutely positive that guy liked women.
“Hey, Matty,” Cody purred, plopping himself across one thick, muscle-corded thigh and draping his arms across Matt’s shoulders bulging out of his tank top. The man looked like a fake-tanned, hulking bodybuilder, but his muscles weren’t for show. He worked out, trained and sparred almost daily, only stepping into the octagon a couple times a year, but when he did he rarely missed. Matt was a quick learner and a ruthless fighter, often going up against veterans because the younger guys didn’t want to fight him. He could certainly fold Roman like a lawn chair with just one punch.
“How many of these have you had, man?” Matt took the drink from Cody’s hand and sniffed it.
“‘s vodka, dummy,” Cody grabbed his drink back, slurring every word and his lisp more pronounced. “I dunno. A few.”
“Does your boyfriend know about this?” Matt smirked, not caring one bit that if Roman’s eyes were capable of shooting lasers right now, he and Cody would both be dead.
“He can’t tell me what to do,” Cody pouted. “He doesn’t own me. I’m a goddamn independent woman, dammit!”
Matt chuckled and played along, “Right, Codes, you don’t need no man.”
“Damn right!” Cody saluted his best friend with his glass, downed the rest of it, then pressed his cheek to Matt’s. “How come we don’t hang out more, Matty?”
Matt sighed, aware they should have boundaries but this is how they have always been. Long before Roman, before Randy, or any other insignificant guy that tried to take up too much of Cody’s time, it had just been them. Both grew up without siblings and gravitated toward each other at five years old, on the first day of Kindergarten, bonding over their love for professional wrestling and dogs. Kevin came along in sixth grade when his family moved to Georgia from Canada for Mr. Owens’ job. Where one of them was, the other two were most likely not far behind. Matt and Kevin were the first ones Cody told about his crush on the captain of the wrestling team, Randy Orton, in high school. Kevin and Cody were in the car when Matt got his first speeding ticket. Cody and Matt painted their faces and made signs when Kevin went to state for wrestling their junior year. That was also the year their dynamic started to shift because Cody started dating Randy, suddenly having less time for his friends. They had always talked about going to their senior prom as a group with their dates, but Cody and Randy and Kevin and his date went with the wrestling team. Matt tried to act unbothered, figuring he and his date could just meet up with them at the venue, but it wasn’t the same. Cody and Randy had been grossly wrapped around each other all night, so Matt was barely able to say two words to his best friend. Kevin and his date had disappeared about halfway through to do God knows what.
A week later, they had graduated. Cody moved to Atlanta for school and Randy’s burgeoning professional wrestling career, Kevin went off to the police academy, and Matt spent that summer working out, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. Though the three friends never lost contact, and decided to start hanging out again at least once a week, Matt still missed Cody. And now their intimate trio was a group of six, which divided their attentions further and limited what they could talk about with other ears around.
“Probably because between work and your boyfriend, you don’t have time for me anymore,” Matt shrugged, his words not bitter. Just fact.
Cody stared at him with vodka-cloudy eyes, swallowing around the bile rising in his throat, “God, I’m a bad friend. Matty, I suck. Like I left you guys, my best friends, for a stupid guy. A guy who turned out to actually be shitty, but I was shitty to you so it’s like karma. Right? Why do you even want to be around me? No one wants to be around me, or like, I’m no one’s first choice. You know? Too loud, too abrasive, too emotional, too gay, too—“
“All right, drunky, I’m gonna cut you off right there,” Matt interjected, squeezing Cody’s thigh in hopes it grounded him in some sort of reality rather than the self-deprecating sea he was currently swimming in. “You are a little shit, but I wouldn’t say shitty. And you don’t think, if I was into dick, I wouldn’t have locked this down already? Then you really are insane.”
Cody’s face split into a grin again, “I kept trying to recruit you and Kevin to my gay agenda, but no, I have to be friends with the two straightest guys in America.”
“Kevin’s Canadian.”
“He’s both.”
“Right. He likes fries and poutine the same.”
Cody laughed, and they were back. Best friends ribbing about their other best friend, reminiscing, updating each other on their current lives. Matt promised to do better about texting and keeping in touch, and said he would personally invite Cody to his fights. Cody promised to make every effort to be there.
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It was almost 11pm when the group began dwindling. Bryan dragged Dean out first, claiming he was tired, but Cody suspected he just wanted to leave. Dean, of course, sweetheart that he was, nodded and smiled at his date, then apologized as he cut his conversation with Roman short. Cody didn’t think it was adoringly when Bryan rolled his eyes as Dean hugged Cody goodbye. He kept his hand on Bryan’s lower back, sweetly guiding them out of the bar. Cody’s heart clenched, jealous of the casual affectionate touch and wondering if it was appreciated and reciprocated. Matt, who had a sparring session in the morning, and Kevin, who needed sleep before his night shift, left soon after.
The Uber ride home was quiet. Roman scrolled through his phone, baseball hat pulled low over his brow, enough of a disguise the Uber driver had not recognized him. Usually, he would wrap a possessive hand around Cody’s thigh or pull him flush against his side, but tonight he remained on his side of the car and kept his hands to himself. Twelve inches between them that felt like a mile. Cody curled in on himself, head resting on the back of the seat as he stared out the window at the passing lights of the city. Trying not to feel a little rejected, but unable to ignore the knot settling in his stomach. Maybe he just drank too much? That had to be it. The conversation with Bryan had left him unsettled, but the vodka had gone straight to his head, making him feel buzzy and light, and most of all had stopped his brain from racing with intrusive thoughts about Bryan’s intentions towards Dean or Roman and Seth’s codependency. Cody had hardly paid attention to Seth at all, in fact, even though he had attached himself to Roman’s side.
It’s not like Cody could be mad about that, right? From the outside looking in, anyone would have assumed he and Matt were together by the way Cody had been hanging on him all night. Roman should know better, though. He knew Matt was straight, and he knew that Cody’s clinginess and drunkenness were directly correlated. If Bryan hadn’t been there, it probably would have been Roman’s lap he crawled into, but he had been told to behave. So he had suppressed every proud bone in his body that just wanted to shout from the rooftops that Roman was with him. Like he always did. Because that’s what Roman wanted. And to be with Roman meant playing by Roman’s rules. Cody’s drunk mind wondered if he would be buried in the rubble when Roman’s carefully constructed castle inevitably crumbled.