A fading black eye, split lip, bruised ribs…

"What the hell, Dean?" Roman tips his chin upwards revealing another purpled spot. "Can't leave you alone for a goddamn min-"

"I'ma grown man, Ro. I can take care of myself."

"Apparently you can't. I'm gone for a couple weeks and you look like you've been ate up and spit out." The Samoan pauses, for once finding it impossible to read his brother's expression, something distant and unreadable, the fiery blaze of his eyes have dried up. "I swear, it's like you do this on purpose. First Lesnar, then Hunter, and even Owens? And you went after Lesnar again…Dean." A tan thumb is pushed down against thin, pink lips, slightly parting the younger male's mouth. It aches, clearly so as he hisses in pain. And Roman doesn't know what possesses him to do it, will attest that his body just operated on instinct, but he reaches a hand between jean-clad legs. He's hard and his eyes are wet and wild.

"R-Ro, fuck, please-!" And the brunette grinds against his hand for a moment in sheer desperation, but then pushes away, so small and meek and unlike Dean and it drives large hands to wrap around his shoulders, slamming him against the locker room walls.

"This is why you've been, Jesus, Dean…" His hands are retracted now, running through mushed up raven locks. "…this is fucked up, even for you, Dean I…" Blue eyes are hurt, and he's scratching at his arm, redden skin a contrast to his pale flesh. "…and you go to them for it, huh?"

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do, huh? You think I can…I can just stop it, just, get rid of this?" And there's more spark there, tension and anger in Dean's voice. It's more like him and it puts the older at ease, despite his confusion and frustration at their situation. But there's embarrassment there, too, fear, and Roman knows it's on the tip of Dean's tongue. That he's afraid Roman will leave him, too.

"Not get your kicks from assholes beating you down. This isn't—it's not…" His fists clench before he punches the wall next to Dean's side. "…it's not safe, you crazy sonuvabitch. First a black eye, then next it'll be brain damage..."

"Wouldn't be the first time my brain's been fucked up, heh." There's a cold, icy edge there and Roman despises it.

"That, shit this ain't right, Dean, and I'm not letting you do this to yourself."

"Like hell you're gonna stop me." He motions to dismiss the larger man, but his wrist is grasped before he can even register the movement.
"I'm not letting you do this shit to you anymore, you understand? I can't…I can't lose you, Dean. We're in too deep as it is and it's my goddamn job to make sure you're…you're okay." There's tension there, Roman's voice cracking on the last syllable as blue meets grey. "I'll do anything to keep you safe…"

"Anything? That's uh…" Dean clears his throat, not moving to pull away from that tight grasp, their chests nearly pushed together. "…that's a promising offer." He tries to play it off coy, but it just sounds desperate, needy, like he is.

"You heard me. Anything…" He wets a thick bottom lip, gaze falling heated and voice low as he hears footsteps past the locker room. "…I'd…I'd even do that for you, if it meant you'd stop letting them do this to you."

How did they end up here? And why did it take so long to come to this point?

Roman supposes there's no reason to mull over it now, this game they've been playing for 5 months now. It's like clockwork in that it's dependable, but more like a ticking time bomb in that it's explosive.
Bruised thighs, split lip, throat and chest covered in bites and far too deep hickeys. Dean looks perfect.

"C'mon, baby boy, you can do better than that. They're real filthy, y'know…" Roman chuckles, humming appreciatively as the brunette's butt rises higher, clad in nothing but soft lace as he laps at the bottom of combat boots. The Samoan tugs at a leash, yanking Dean up when he grows tired of that slurping sound. "Not good enough, kid."

"I-I'm sorry sir, I-"A smack across his open mouth, loud and echoing as he shivers. His skin is so pale, the handprint nearly red after just a few seconds.

"Did I ask you to speak, bitch?" The malice, the hatred in his voice, Roman oozing disgust at the crumpled mass of street slut groveling on his feet. "Huh, slut?" He tugs hard at the leash then, pulling up hard and fast and Dean's being choked, his hands grasping at Roman's thighs as the air to his brain is cut off, eyes rolling back and revealing white. A gargling noise flows out easily and Roman grins, dropping him back into a slump. "Answer me, boy. You have permission." He chuckles, something deep and primal in it as he bends over to meet that blue, wet gaze. He flicks Dean's bottom lip, spit slick from over use of his tongue and desperate gasping for air. "Oh, and beg for your punishment. You've let your Daddy down too much tonight."

"No, you d-didn't say I could open my dumb whore mouth. I-I'm sorry, sir. So sorry, please, hurt me? Please?" Dean's groveling now, curls falling copiously forward as he slides back down on all fours, head to the floor and leash jingling. "I'm so bad, I messed up. I-I'm a fucking worthless piece of shit that needs to hurt. I'm so stupid and ugly and no good. 'M no good… Please, sir, 'm so sorry, sir." He's in tears now, face a reddened mess and hiccups beginning to form as he stares up at that looming figure. At his brother. His love. His sun. At his master.

A shiver runs down Roman's spine, fighting the urge to tell him no, no, you're not worthless. You're brilliant and beautiful and so loved but there will be time for that later. And he knows, he knows Dean doesn't need that know. He knows that pleading, that sobbing, it's thanks. Thanks to Roman for being his and taking him to the high he needs. The pleasure he needs. "Good boy, good…" Roman coos, but his voice is all business, grabbing a tight wad of curls as he yanks the younger male up by nothing but his hair. Dean goes to reach for his belt buckle, ready for his duties as a perfect pain slut, but is quickly bat away. "…didn't say your punishment was done. On your back, now!"
It takes Dean a moment to process those words but he's quick, falling backwards on the rough carpet of their playroom as he stares up, feeling exceptionally exposed and thoroughly humiliated as Roman laughs and points at his lace clad cock.

"You really are a fucking slut, aren't you?" He slides down then, on one knee as he roughly yanks at Dean's underwear to reveal brown pubic hair and an aching, uncut length. "…look at this lil worthless thing…pathetic." He pulls at Dean's foreskin, a sob coming from the younger's length as he tries his damnedest not to come. Been so bad, been so disobedient, he can't let his master down any more than he already has. And then there's a shadow covering the dim corner light as Roman's stood again, expression sullen and serious before he lifts his boot, freshly cleaned with Dean's expert tongue. "Get hard from anything I give you, don't you?" It's a growl as Roman pushes his boot against Dean's hot sex, grinding hard.

"A-Ah, oh, fuck, sir, yes!" Dean gasps out, the pain shoot through as the sensitive flesh is nudged, pre-cum beginning to dripple as he squirms. "All for you, only for you, s-sir, fuck!" He's trying his hardest to not grind back, take that pain and pleasure and ride it. But he's a good boy and he can be good, he has to be.

"Mm, lil bitch boy has a filthy mouth on him…" Roman yanks him up once more, not quite choking but there's an uneasiness in Dean's breath as he shoves his boot down, before punching Dean this time, knowing it will leave a nice little bruise. But then Dean is slumped over the leg driving a foot into his crotch and for a moment Roman's blood runs cold. Had he gone too far? Was this too much even for his beautiful little pain slut?

"G-Green…" Is panted out as Roman's façade cracks for a moment, his shoulders slumping as he slides his boot back, grazing against Dean's balls ever so gently before nudging the plug deep in his ass, then tugging at the teasing nipple piercing.

"Good boy, good…" Dark hair falls forward and tickles Dean's face. His eyes are glazes over in bliss, causing the blood smear over his lips to seem almost innocent, like ketchup left after eager eating. "…I think you deserve an award don't you? Been so good with your punishments…"

Deans nods eagerly, the collar shifting to reveal a small bruised pattern that Roman will cover with soft kisses and sweet whispers, but for now Dean is tugged forward by leash and hair, his thighs resting on either side of Roman's size 10 boot. "How's about you hump this nice clean boot until you come and I fuck your throat, baby boy…? You can speak." There's a croaked out, broken sound as Dean shifts slightly. God, he's so hard…Roman can almost feel the heat of his cock through the leather as his pre-cum drips, staining the leather once more.

"Y-Yeah…D-Daddy, puh-please…" And before anything else can happen there's a cock shoved down his throat, two strong hands tearing at his hair and he's humping and bucking wildly. Hot, wet and Dean is choking, gargling over that thick length that's so hot and sweet like the glorious dom it belongs to.

It doesn't take much for the younger male to come, his body alight as he covers Roman's foot with a sticky mess and then he knows it's his job to service his master fully. Soon there are strong thighs on either side of his head and his lips are numb and tingling and he's nothing but a hole. A slutty, pain-loving hole that swallows around that cock and relishes at the come that fills his mouth, greedily swallowing even as he laps and suckles at the softening length.

"Good, so good for me, Dean…" Roman's gentle now, voice a soft-hazy orgasmic hum as he rubs at the locks sticky with cum, blood, and sweat. "…you did so well, I'm proud of you."

"T-Thank you, sir…" And he clutches tight onto Roman's leg, thinking how glad he was that 'anything' entailed this.