Disclaimer: The author is in no way, shape, or form in any form of association with World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything else. I just wrote the thing. Please enjoy.

Warning ahead for possessive behavior, biting, marking, and canon-typical violence.

Things are different nowadays, this is what Seth had come to realize. Things are different nowadays and it makes his stomach ache because he doesn't want it to be different. The elevator doors chime open and he takes a deep breath before stepping into the deserted corridor. When was the last time that he had done this? When was the last time he took time out of his night to do this? Months. Seth is sure that it had to be months by now.

It makes his skin crawl just thinking about it. To know that in just over a year, he had gone from being Dean's top priority to being just another scumbag he didn't like. Seth hates it. He hates it more than he hates where he is right now. He's the champion, sure, but what else has he got to show? He doesn't have the game of cat and mouse anymore; not with the same emotion. Brock Lesnar would never have the same level of hatred for Seth as Dean claimed to have.

His feet stop him in front of the door that he had been given the number of. He had to ask so many people just to get this information. No one had been willing to give up anything to Seth. Everyone failed to see just how desperate Seth had been to get this Tonight is a night where Seth needs nothing more than to make sure everything was still about him.

His hand knocks lightly on the door, in the rhythm they had composed to let each other know exactly who it was at the door. There's silence inside for a breath, then shuffling is heard as the Lunatic Fringe comes to the door. When the door opens, before Dean can even properly look out, Seth is pushing his way in. He cannot let tonight slip through his fingers. He's not even going to give Dean the chance to close him out.

Their lips connect before the door shuts, but Seth can hear the click of the lock when he's shoved back against it. Dean is just as hungry for it as he is. These past months have been full of nothing save quickies in the locker rooms. There are no battles anymore. There is no war. Seth aches thinking about how Dean, despite his show of passion now, is done. How all of this could be over.

His fingers curl around the back of older man's neck as teeth drag against his lower lip, a moan pushing through his lungs. It's captured into Dean's eager mouth, it being echoed back to the brunette. It's a heady feeling. It always had been. Seth can't afford to let this go. He needs this to be the thing that he keeps, even if everything else falls away.

Seth doesn't realize what he's doing until Dean is suddenly falling back onto the bed and Seth is climbing on top of him. He connects their lips again eagerly, not even willing to question how he maneuvered them to the bed without causing any injuries; his mind is a million miles away.

His fingers curl into Dean's hair tightly, tugging on it roughly. His lips detach from Dean's and work their way down his former Shield-mate's jaw, nipping and lapping at skin as he went. He's so desperate. He yearns to feel every part of Dean against him and to know that it would never go away, no matter how hard he shoves. He doesn't want Dean to disappear for good.

He doesn't realize that he's just mouthing absently at Dean's neck – hot, wet kisses on skin, his fingers still tight in Dean's hair – until the other's hands land on his hips and rolls them over. The motion is fluid, but there's a certain gentleness there. When their eyes meet again, a clashing of chocolate on baby blue, Seth has to do his best to sink into the mattress.

The curiosity that Dean doesn't try to hide mixed with a certain amusement makes Seth feel like he's embarrassing himself. Dean's already over it. He has a feeling low in his gut that twists like a knife and leaves him breathless. How many times had he told Dean that he didn't matter to Seth? Maybe the words had finally gone through. He refuses to let that settle. He would fix this.

"What's going on with you?" Dean asks, his hands pushing Seth's shirt up some, bare skin on bare skin. It has a noticeable effect on both of them, with Seth's eyes fluttering shut momentarily and Dean's breathing hitching. "You going soft on me, Rollins?"

Dean means for it to be a joke, Seth knows he does, but Seth thinks for a moment that maybe he has started going a little soft. Their feud is over. Their fighting is done. Seth is supposed to move on to greater things, but something in his mind keeps reminding him that there is nothing better than Dean Ambrose.

Seth, instead of answering, kisses Dean again. The kiss is filled with more longing, that desperation Seth felt earlier pouring out into the lip lock. It seems to shake Dean, who is delayed in kissing back. When his lips do finally move, they're disoriented. Seth feels a flare of possessiveness spark in his gut that has him rolling them over again.

"Mine," he breathes out against Dean's lips. There's a hint of a growl to his voice, his hands tightening in Dean's hair again and yanking back to expose Dean's throat. His lips dart lower, his teeth grazing against skin. He enjoys the sound of Dean's breathing hitching in his throat.

"Christ, what's gotten into you, Rollins?" Dean is hissing out, his voice half laced with pain and half laced with lust. They're falling back into their old games and it makes Seth's heart sing.

"Mine," Seth full-on growls now, his teeth teasing at the skin where shoulder meets neck, trying to pick the best place to leave his mark.

"Fuck," Dean groans out and Seth assumes it's by mistake with the way he curses again, this time under his breath.

"Mine," Seth finally snarls, finding the perfect spot – the spot he always marked, because Dean was his and he would bear Seth's mark proudly wherever Seth placed it – and sinking his teeth into the bundle of flesh and muscle.

Dean spasms with the bite and it causes Seth's teeth to sink in deeper, a moan rumbling through his chest. It is muffled by the hunk of skin in his mouth. It's when Seth's teeth dig a tad deeper in – he wants the mark to last; he needs this to last – that Dean lets out a growl of his own. His arm moves faster than Seth had been expecting and his elbow connects viciously with Seth's ribs.

His gasp of pain has him releasing Dean, the animalistic side of him telling him to fight back but he's on his back before he can think to retaliate. Dean is above him and where Seth's teeth had been is marked with indents and angry, red tissue.

"What the fuck is your problem, Rollins?!" Dean is bellowing at him, bringing Seth back to the reality of the situation. He had come to Dean's room in the middle of the night because he hadn't wanted to be forgotten; because he hadn't wanted their arrangement to be over. Three months, Seth could count them on one hand, and his mind is already begging to make sure Dean never forgot him. "C'mon, open that big mouth of yours and fucking say something or you'll have a lot worse to deal with than an elbow to the ribs."

Seth's breathing is panicked and heavy, but he's babbling out the confession without further pressure. "I don't want you to move on." It sounds pathetic and Seth realizes that's probably because it is pathetic. "I don't want you to forget me." His fingers drift from Dean's hair to the back of his neck again. His nails bite into skin as he grips tight. "You don't get to just go and leave me behind. I didn't do it to you. You don't get to do it to me."

The way Dean's face morphs pains Seth, because the emotions flicker by so fast that he can't keep up with them. When they all meld together into one great jumble of unreadable expression, Seth feels fear creeping up the back of his throat.

It comes as a great shock for Dean to lean down and press his lips to Seth's gently, his face going lax from all the emotions that had been there before. The second kiss lands on his cheek, the third on his other. The fourth kiss is placed on his forehead and Seth refuses to admit he's forcing back tears.

"Sometimes I wish I could," Dean whispers into his skin, moving back down again to rest their foreheads together with a bitter laugh that doesn't reach his eyes. "But I'm not going anywhere, Princess. I promise."

Hope you guys enjoyed!

I should be progressively getting prompts out at a faster rate now. Prompts might even reopen on tumblr!

Reviews are like hugs. I like hugs.

~Ash