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There was a sharp knock at the door, before it was cracked opened.
"Pizza's here!" Mama Reigns had announced happily, as she entered.
Dean tried to get one more hit in, if he did, he'd be ahead of Roman (finally) and all would be right in his world (Roman was a better gamer than he thought), but the football player paused the game just before he could send out another laser.
He almost let out an annoyed groan, but the last thing he wanted to seem like was rude and ungrateful to the woman he was trying to make his future mother-in-law, especially when she was so sweet to him right from the start.
"Using your mom to try and get a win over me, Reigns? That's sad." Dean jokes, as he twists his head to face the pretty Italian woman at the door. But instead of Mama Reigns, it's what she's carrying that fills his vision.
Two huge ass boxes of pizzas, cradled in her hands. Dean's sure she must've ordered the wrong size or, at least, the amount, because even on a good day, he can only get down about five slices. As Dean swims through his thoughts, in reality, Roman and his mother laugh.
"Please. I can kick your ass with a hand tied behind my back." Roman retorts, as he rises to his knees and crawls over to his mom.
Mama Reigns' smile dies momentarily and she glares Roman down, not letting his profanity slide. "Leakee."
Roman resists the urge to roll his eyes at his Samoan name. He mutters an apology and takes a box, before walking on his knees back to his spot.
Dean finally returns to Earth, when Mama Reigns bends down and offers him the second box. He looks up at her with a small smile, but confusion still conspicuous enough on his face that makes Roman's mother ask, "You okay, Dean?"
Dean nods. "It’s just… You got us both boxes?”
Mrs. Reigns only smiles, places a hand on his shoulder and Dean instantly relaxes under her touch. Caring's a trait he's never really been familiar with, but it feels nice.
"I'm sorry, Dean. Force of habit. I usually order three or four boxes for pizza night, but since Roman was having you over, I guess I just added one thinking I was feeding another Roman." She explains.
Dean still has an expression of bewilderment. “You mean we weren’t gonna share a box?” He knows about all about Roman’s appetite, but he also knows that the place that the pizza was from served extra-large fucking pizzas.
That sweet demeanor of Mama Reigns cracks suddenly, replaced with a scoff and a loud chuckle. "Share? Why do you think I order so many boxes, sweetie?" She asks, though the question turns rhetorical when she nods her head, gesturing behind him.
Dean raises an eyebrow and slowly turns his attention to the boy behind him. His eyes bug out as he sees Roman demolishing his box. This whole scenario had only been going on for five minutes, but Roman's already three slices in. The football player's in a one track state of mind as he devours his third pepperoni slice.
The longer Dean watched, the more he felt that spark. That spark that he felt when he first saw Roman, that spark he feels when he sees Roman play, or sees him smile, or sees him eat.
“Leakee!”
Roman’s sliver eyes finally blink and bounce up to his mother. He gives her a pout, visibly annoyed that he has to stop his chewing. He finishes the bite in his mouth, before giving his mother attention. “Yes, Ma?” He answers, a whine coloring his tone.
“I know you like to be a little piggy, but please remember you have a guest, baby.”
A deep blush overcomes Roman’s face and his pizza slips out of his hand and into the box. Dean smiles, a strain thing, trying to hold back laughter that was threatening to spill. Roman notices and he can feel his cheeks heat even more. He puts his head down and scowls.
“’M not a piggy…” He retorts quietly.
Mama Reigns rolls her eyes and nods. “Yeah. You’re my handsome star quarterback son.” She begins to back out of the room, blowing both boys a kiss. “Take a break soon and get something to drink okay? I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She says, as she closes the door.
Dean mutters a thanks and looks at the potential feast of pizza on his lap. He opens the box and just admires the size of it all, thinking how in the world all of this would fit in stomach.
He could maybe fit three or four slices in—on a good day. He wasn’t sure if today would be one of those days, what with his stomach already full of nerves and butterflies.
The more Dean thinks about the less hungry he becomes. He closes the box and puts it beside him, his other hand reaching for the game controller.
“Ro, you ready? I’ll definitely kick your ass, don’t worr-“
Dean’s hand’s on the controller, but he doesn’t rush to scoop it up, too busy focused on the current holder of his affections, consuming the monster box.
Roman ate like he didn’t have a care, like the world would end if he didn’t finish, but what really got Dean was the absolute delight on the Samoan’s face. The way those stormy eyes light up the second his taste buds touched what seemed to be cheese and pepperoni heaven. Then how they’d shut, a shameless moan of pleasure rumbling from deep in his chest. The way his mouth would fall open with ease and take in the biggest bite possible.
Dean’s sure he’s only been watching for maybe thirty seconds, yet Roman’s already moving on to the next.
Before he can get the slice to his mouth, Roman puts his hand down and Dean can’t believe that he’s actually feeling disappointed. It’s enough of a shock to bring him back to Earth. He leans away, straightens his back, wonders when he had gotten closer to Roman in the first place, and looks towards the TV, knowing if he kept his eyes on Roman any longer, he’d fucking explode.
“… Ow…” Roman finally speaks. It makes Dean’s attention refocus back on him, unfortunately for him, and he gets a live, front seat show to see every wet dream he’s had about Roman.
The football player places a hand on his chest. His eyes flutter shut, face contorted in regret, bow-shaped lips part to let heavy, labored puffs of air escape. A quiet whimper slips through almost unnoticed.
It’s a beautiful orgasm face, if Dean’s ever seen one, more attractive than any piece of art he can think of. Got him wondering how more blissed out he can get that face when Roman’s underneath him.
Roman jumps suddenly, a squeak in mixing in his deep tone, and with him, Dean’s dick. Dean looks down for a second, just to confirm the tent in his jeans, and Roman jumps again. Dean curses internally, his sapphire irises cutting back to his crush, narrowed and determined not to miss another second.
“You okay there, Big Man?” Dean accidentally coos, meaning for it to be a casual break of silence.
Silver eyes flitter open, stare at Dean through half lids. He opens his mouth to respond, but his body’s rocked by another hop, another squeak, another hiccup. Roman gasps, as a ruby red dusts his cheeks, and his hand flies to his mouth.
“Y-Yeah. Just… Ate too fast. That’s all.” He replies afterward, only to be attacked by another hiccup attack.
Though, to Dean’s surprise, Roman actually goes to pick up the slice he dropped moments ago. He takes huge bite after bite, not letting his hiccups disturb his actions. Before Dean knows it, Roman’s destroyed that piece too. It’s nothing but utter annihilation. This large box that was brimming and full of pizza just seven minutes ago, now gone, all into…
Dean couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over Roman’s body, his mind wandering back into a haze of nothing but want and desire.
Roman manages to finish the slice, making the concupiscent fantasies in Dean’s brain run even more wild, and goes to grasp at his abandoned game controller.
“Ready to play?” He asks. It harshly knocks Dean back to reality.
His sight follows Roman’s hand as he brings the controller to his lap, then go back to his face. Dean frowns, because, to be honest, he’s feeling offended as fuck. No, he’s not ready to play. He’s trying his damndest to hide the obvious dick print in his jeans, while at the same time wanting nothing more than for Roman to finish what he’s started.
Dean’s beginning to have a death grip on his own controller, he loosens it before he explodes and places it on the ground next to him.
“Uh, yeah, but…” His eyes flicker back and forth between Roman and that box. “Don’t’cha wanna finish?” He continues, nodding his head to the box. “I mean, you don’t wanna waste it, do ya?”
Roman stares at him, completely straight faced and Dean begins to panic. Now he thinking he’s majorly fucked up and possibly ruined his chances with his best friend, just from those simple questions.
He about to bolt from the room when Roman’s face softens, even has a light blush to it. He looks away from Dean and towards the TV before he answers.
“Nah, man, I’m good. I can eat it later.”
The way he says that had Dean’s head tilting in confusion. That wasn’t a normal “It’s okay” response. Dean picked up on the bashful lie Roman’s just told and everything in him was telling him to call Roman out on it.
Judging by the disappointed grin on hips and the twitchiness in his muscles, Dean begins to think Roman may want him to do just that. So he does.
“Go ahead, Roman.” He says, lazily lying back on his hands. “You don’t need to put up some front just because I’m here. If you wanna eat, eat. I know you can finish it. Go on.”
Roman’s eyes bug out the longer Dean goes on, encourages him. It’s a weird feeling, but he likes it. He likes that he has somebody to feel at ease with, someone who will let him indulge. That blush blossoms into a full blown rose across his face and he smiles out of embarrassment.
“I told you I’m fine.” He replies, though. “You’re over here to play games. Not watch me eat.”
Dean sighs and sits up. “How about we change my priorities then.” He rasps, crawling the few inches over to Roman.
Roman leans back from the sudden closeness, holds his breath for what Dean may do next, but Dean surges past him, straight for the pizza box. He discreetly exhales, and denies his disappointment to himself as Dean plops back down on the floor, the box in his lap.
He flips the top with one finger, without much preamble. He takes one of few slices left and holds it up, letting the stringy cheese at the tip of it dangle. A pleased smirk blossoms on his lips when he notices a hypnotized look on Roman’s face. He leans forward again, this time directly towards Roman.
“Say ahh, Big Dog.” He purrs, making everything in Roman malfunction in an instant, but the older teen obeys. The football player opens his mouth, his tongue positively watering at the delicious smell of the slice, more over at the sight of the man holding said slice.
The second he lays the pizza in Roman’s mouth, Dean bites his lip to hide the impending spread of a delighted smile.
He watches, eyes scanning every moment as Roman munches the slice like a fucking lawnmower. Within seconds, Dean’s hands empty, sans the greasy residue, and he’s wondering how rude it would be to just shoot a load in his pants right now. Very rude, most likely.
He makes up for it by scooching closer, as he takes another slice. “’Nother one.” He says, supposed to be a question, but comes out more as a command, which Roman follows, closing his eyes and opening that black hole he calls a mouth and waiting patiently for the next one.
Dean stares, somewhat in disbelief at Roman’s obedience, but it’s appealing nonetheless, it makes him take a chance and place his free hand on Roman’s thigh. Dean revels in the warmth of it and the size, he can’t help but caress Roman’s skin. His hand slides up and in, treading on a dangerous line, so he stops, watches for a negative reaction. Roman doesn’t move or change his waiting state, so Dean rewards him with the next slice. This one, Roman eats faster than the last.
Those “dreaded” hiccups come back with a vengeance. Just as Dean goes to feed him, Roman jumps, then again, and again.
Dean pulls back, eyes innocently wide and questioning before he sputters a laugh. Roman frowns and furrows his brows.
“Don’t laugh, you ass!” He scolds, before another hop shakes him. It doesn’t pass Dean how certain parts of Roman jiggles along with it, most noticeable, his stomach, despite the large shirt he wears, and his thighs.
Dean became absolutely mesmerized by the small waves flowing through Roman’s skin with each jump, watched Roman try hard to keep his mouth shut and his movement to minimal, but fail.
“Sorry.” Dean replies, sounding unapologetic anyway. “’S’funny…” He continues without much thought, leaning back in, aiming the pizza towards Roman’s lips. “Kinda cute…” As Roman bites down, Dean’s hand slides deeper into the space in between Roman’s thighs.
The touch has a shiver trembling there and Dean hears Roman’s breath hitch. He pulls back, fearing he may have gone too far. Roman swallows the piece he’s eating and stares at Dean, bashful. Before Dean can say anything, Roman does.
“Hiccup.” He says as an excuse. It’s pitiful, they both know the real reason. It has Dean grimacing, because of the obvious denial. At this point, Dean’s hesitance has pretty much flown out of the window. He doesn’t want to push Roman, but after all of this, he’s sure he’s confirmed Roman’s feels the same way he does. And it’s got him confident as hell.
“Was it?” Dean counters, almost immediately. It catches Roman off guard and he hangs his head down, avoiding Dean’s eyes.
“Yeah…”
Dean wants to call Roman on his bullshit, but he’s not trying to ruin the mood with being unnecessarily mad. Instead, he smirks, gets a little closer.
“You know, they say if you hold your breath, it gets rid of ‘em.”
That catches Roman’s attention. He looks at Dean like he’s suddenly grown another head on his shoulder, just a hint of his own annoyance underneath, like he wanted Dean to catch his lie and do something about it.
Cloudy irises roll and he decides to play along. “That’s the oldest trick in the book. And it doesn’t work.”
“Wanna bet?” Dean challenges, his smirk yet to die, obviously up to something.
Roman falls for it hook, line and sinker when he genuinely replies, “Yeah, I bet.”
Dean shrugs and fills the space between them, connecting their lips. It’s nothing fancy. Nothing like the first kiss scenes he’s seen in the movies. Just simple mouth to mouth, but Dean would be damned if he denied the feeling of “Right” he gets the longer he stays pressed to Roman.
He’d be damned if he said he didn’t feel a pleasant tingle in his thighs and a heat pooling in his gut.
He’d be damned if he said he minded the taste of pepperoni on Roman’s breath or the feel of Roman’s round belly pressed against his flat one or deny the amazing feeling of Roman’s thigh filling his hand as he squeezes it.
Dean kisses him until they both run out of breath. He pulls away, opens his eyes and takes in the artistic sight in front of him.
Roman, completely flushed and panting for air, his steel eyes hazed over.
“… Hiccups gone?” Dean sneers playfully.
Roman only nods, then pushes forward, this time initiating the liplock. Dean’s quick to fall into Roman’s rhythm, pressing against him. This time, tongues are introduced, swirling around each other and quickly making a home in the other’s mouth. Roman slides his hands into Dean’s hair while Dean drops the pizza in his hand back into the box and places his now free hand on Roman’s other thigh.
Dean clutches Roman with all his might, massaging his new favorite place in the world. His thumbs shift low, inside Roman’s thighs, making the football player moan into his mouth. Dean takes note, because that’s obviously a sensitive spot.
They battle slightly as they kiss lovingly, a push and a pull, a tug of war, until Dean gives and lets Roman push him onto the floor.
Roman follows, hovering over Dean, but not breaking the kiss he’s been waiting so long to get.
Dean sighs a moan when he feels Roman on top of him. He feels fulfilled, as half of his fantasies have now come to life and even those couldn’t compare to the real thing. He likes feeling pressed to Roman, likes feeling his weight envelop him.
No longer having access to Roman’s thighs, Dean makes due with the change, letting his mischievous hands travel down Roman’s spine, all the way down to his ass. He wastes no time to cup each cheek, has them overflowing in his hands before he squeezes and has Roman faltering.
Roman pulls away with a mix of a gasp and a groan. He stares down at Dean, in a shock that Dean would be so bold, and embarrassed because… He’d never been touched like that.
“Didn’t know you liked me so much, Ro…” Dean rasps, voice breathless and deep, doing some very impure things to Roman’s brain. It’s an innocent observation, a sarcastic one too, and not the thing he expected Dean to say after he pulled away. Especially with his hands still hanging on to his backside.
Roman lets it slide though. There’s not much to be said about it. He’s not complaining about it and he’s not about to either. “Same here.”
Roman dips back down, renewing the kiss, though it becomes a little wilder. Hands are flying here and there; lips move from lips to neck to chest. It’s an exploration between the two, an actual breath of air as they finally touch each other the way they always wanted to. Though Roman’s mouth always finds Dean’s and Dean’s hands always find Roman’s ass.
Things get deeper when Roman bites Dean’s lip, nibbles on it slightly, and Dean grips Roman tighter, pushing his hips up into Roman’s and they really meet. They both break away in a hiss, taking a second to regain some sense of reality before they explode.
Dean chuckles softly and Roman smiles.
“I knew it.” Dean comments offhandedly.
“Knew what?” Roman asks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“You have a big cock.” Dean says, effortless and to the point as ever.
Roman stares at him, once again, in shock, but then he laughs while his face heats.
“Thanks.” He replies, taking a chance and making his own move to press their hips together. Dean’s eyes clench shut and he grits his teeth, a deep groan vibrating in his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Roman finishes, before diving back down for another kiss.
Dean stops him, however, turning his head to the side, so Roman’s lips meet his cheek instead.
“So excitable. Calm down, Big Dog.” He laughs and turns his head to look back at Roman.
Roman tilts his head in confusion, as Dean forcibly removes one of his hands away from him and reached up. He dragged the almost empty pizza box down and shook it.
“Gotta finish your dinner, yeah?”