It takes a lot of strength, Seth thinks, to keep his cool. Looking back it actually takes pretty much everything he has – but he won't let them know that.

Four minutes before he's due in the ring and he's done with his stretches, about to pull his headphones off and pause his music when his phone goes off right there in his hand. He slips the gym bag off his shoulder and in an instant forgets he's supposed to be wetting his hair and finding fresh gum to chew because something fast and hot hits his gut and he opens the message before his rational brain catches up – why, wait, why the fuck did I-

It's another video. Dean's number. Seth knows he shouldn't entertain this any longer, especially after last time, but he at least has the common sense to check around him, shielding his screen from view before he looks at it properly. Any resolve he may have had melts away the second he sees Roman's taught, sweat soaked face, jaw tilted up, mouth hanging open, eyes closed. Seth rubs the back of his neck and takes a deep breath that just feels thin and shallow. He doesn't have time for this shit. But he was never really into Roman anyway. Was he?

He considers for a moment, leans up against the table behind him as tucked away as he can manage with literally three and a half minutes to go until he has to from coherent sentences and wrestle in front of hundreds of thousands of people live on television- and decides Roman can't have any kind of dangerous affect on him and maybe it'll even be funny. Maybe it'll snap him out of this bullshit phase he's somehow in. He clicks the volume up and presses play.

Roman's moan floods his head so loudly its like his mouth is right up against Seth's ear. The headphones buzz with the bass of it and Seth's stomach tightens. Roman is on his back, his hair lying in loose, messy knots on the pillow. The noise is coming right from the pit of him; Seth knows that sound because he knows that feeling. Remembers unwillingly and almost subconsciously how Dean would occasionally get bored of being the one getting fucked in more ways than one and would decide to take him apart from the dick down.

The camera moves up and Seth grinds his teeth a little because Roman's hands are secured to the bed above his head by a shitty screwy knot, done with some wrist tape and a suit tie, for god's sake, and his fingers are fucking shaking-

He's moaning something thick and desperate and he sounds drunk, and Seth knows that feeling too.

'-Oh my god, holy fuck-'

The camera moves further back now and Seth can see Roman's arms straining against his ties, his chest, stomach, Dean's thighs straddling his thick, stocky hips-

Seth's cheeks are burning and his body feels oddly light. He's had about as much as he can stand when he hears Dean's voice, deep and so slow Seth's toes curl a little in his boots. Dean would use that voice with him sometimes at the most inappropriate moments possible to whisper in his ear how desperate he was to be fucked, how ready he was for Seth's-

'Is that what you like? You like it when I ride you slow like this?'

Roman lets out a huge breath and words come spilling out with it –'yeah, Jesus Christ, yeah, fuck you're so good-'

Dean laughs quietly and its one of the filthiest sounds Seth's ever heard. Dean's murmuring a litany of praises that turn to his own growled sounds of satisfaction and the camera sways as he rolls his hips, slow for a few seconds and then a little faster.

'Mmmmh, yes, fuck,-' One of his hands shoots to Roman's stomach to hold him up and through what sounds like a half-bitten lip he groans 'Fffu-ck, Seth.'

Seth's mouth falls open and he watches Roman buck under Dean like he's been stung, and Dean is still saying Seth's name in a voice that sounds like he's eaten gravel and Roman is coming, hard moans tearing out of him-

A tap on Seth's shoulder and he jumps about ten fucking feet in the air, crushes his phone to his chest and tries to ignore the erratic thrashing of his heart, turning around and yanking off his headphones to see a startled looking girl holding an iPad, motioning to him that its time for him to go out on stage. He shoves everything into the bag at his feet, hiding his face just for a second as he tries to shake the fog out of his head. But his train of thought is ploughing steadily through images of Roman straining against his ties and Dean's thighs flexing and-

'You ready?'

'Y-yeah, uh, I'm – is there water, does anyone have-' the girl thrusts an open bottle of water at him and he empties the whole thing over his head. Everything feels like its moving at double speed, like his body is here in this hallway but his mind is pressed flush between Dean and Roman, writhing and sweating and-

'Rollins, I've got you in five, four, three-'

'-Yeah, I'm done,-' he shakes the water out of his hair and kicks his bag under the table and Jesus Christ he's so fucking hard its almost painful and a second later he's ducking between the curtains and out in front of the crowd.

It turns out that he hadn't kept his cool. At all. Not even close.

He fucked up his words no less than five separate times, tripped on the stairs on his way up to the ring, and dropped his mic before the segment was over. It was a twenty minute long car crash from start to finish and his cheeks were burning with embarrassment as he ducked back through the curtains to backstage.

Out of breath and ears ringing, he jumps a little as Hunter slams through a door towards him and grabs him by the top of his arm. He's steered towards an empty corridor and his back hits the wall a little too hard.

'What the fuck has gotten into you?' Hunter is pissed and Seth doesn't like to admit it but he feels like he he's back at school, shoved in front of the principle for throwing a brick through the library window.

'Rollins? I'm talking to you!'

'Nothing, nothing Hunter, I'm sorry I just-'

'Are you sick? Do I need to get the doc in here?'

'No, no I swear it's just. I have a lot on my mind right now. Personal stuff.'

'Okay.' Hunter rubs a hand over his mouth and stares around. 'Okay. Personal stuff. Fine. Take some time. A week, take a week and we'll tell everyone you tweaked your knee again.'

Seth falters like he just sunk into an ice bath. 'No, no Hunter I'm fine, I just-'

'That, right there? That was a fucking shitshow. My daughter could've done a better job than what you just pulled out of your ass.'

'I know, I know, but-' he is scrabbling for words but his mind is blank, wavering and weak from the shock of the conversation.

'Take a week. Go home. Get your shit together.'

Seth glares at him helplessly.

'If this isn't fixed by then, we'll have serious problems. Something messed up happened? You deal with it; you don't bring it to work. Am I making myself clear?'

Seth swallows dryly, not trusting himself to speak, and nods.

'Good. Get your stuff, get back to the hotel. Lay low tonight, I'll get a flight booked for you first thing tomorrow.' Hunter looks at him for a moment and Seth wants to yell in his face that this isn't his fault, that he's being fucking sabotaged, that Dean and Roman –

'Fuck.' He mutters, turning away and feeling immensely stupid. 'Fuck!' He kicks at a crate and anger floods his head and he swears if he had the chance he'd get his hands on Dean's throat and choke the living shit out of him-

'Seth. Seth, calm down.' Hunter hisses, rounding on him. 'Get the fuck outta here.'

Seth stops for a beat before stalking away, fists clenched painfully tight.

He drained the mini bar in less than an hour - It took approximately three seconds for him to decide the only way he'd sleep was if he got blackout drunk - so by 11 that night he was slumped against the end of the bed staring at the patterns in the carpet with tiny bottles littered around him, and his phone unlocked in his hand.

'What fucking right did they have.' His voice is ropey and slurred and sounds weird to his own ears. He's dizzy and pissed off and very aware he's overreacting but he never fucks up on someone else's account. He never lets anyone get in his head that much, never lets his dick take over his brain when he's supposed to be a fucking professional-

His phone comes up to his ear almost as if he had no clue what his thumb was doing, hovering over the contacts screen. All it takes is five rings, for everything to change.

'Took you long enough.' Dean's voice, calm and measured and a little teasing.

'Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me today?'

'You mean could I see your awkward hard-on through your pants? Yeah, sure.'

Seth swallows, feels his cheeks heat up. 'What are you talking about?'

'Uh…' something crackles through the phone, maybe Dean scratching at the stubble on his jaw and Seth can fucking see the tilt of his head and the smirk on his mouth- 'kinda nowhere to hide your dick in those things, man.'

'Fuck you, you're bullshitting me.'

'Pffff. Whatever. Watch the replay if you're brave enough.'

'I'd rather run in front of a bus.'

'Yeah, it really was somethin', huh. I had no idea you liked Roman so much.'

'I don't.'

'Are you drunk right now?'

Seth scratches the back of his neck, tries to focus his eyes on something further than two feet away and fails.

'You fucked up this time, Ambrose.'

Dean laughs. 'That's a yes.'

'I'm not kidding.'

'You didn't have to open it, but obviously you're so starved of affection you just couldn't wait to see-'

'I got suspended.'

Dean shuts up for a second and Seth chews his lip, holds up a bottle of Jack and lets the last of it drip onto his tongue.

'Nah, you didn't.' Dean says at last.

'My plane is tomorrow. So. Thanks for that.'

'No way are you making me feel bad about this.'

'It's your goddamn fault. You and Roman…fucking with me. You're messing my head up.'

'Talking of fucking…'

'Don't even start.' Seth warns and makes to get up off the floor but everything lurches sideways and he gives up.

'Tell me what you think of the video.'

'Shut the fuck up, that's what I think.'

'C'mon. You got hard in front of all those people for us. You must'a liked it.'

Seth closes his eyes and tries to gather his thoughts. Its like warning lights are flashing in his head but they're muted, somehow unimportant.

'Just talk.' Dean coaxes, his tone low and deep and Seth could fall asleep right now if he wasn't so worked up. Heat is gathering in his stomach; dangerous, reckless heat and it feels so-

'You said my name.'

'Did I?' Dean is smiling around the words and Seth wants to choke him again, viciously.

'You know you did.'

'Roman loved it. He fuckin' throbbed inside me, I swear to god.'

'Holy fuck, Ambrose. That's too much.'

'Nah. You're a big boy. You can handle the nitty gritty, I believe in you.'

'How many times do I have to tell you, I don't want to know.'

'But you do, Seth. You obviously do. Why else would you call?'

'I called to ask you to stop ruining my life.'

'But here we are, talking about Roman's dick in my ass again. Funny how history repeats itself.'

'Dean.'

'He bitched like crazy about being tied up. Honestly he could give you a run for money, he's almost as much of a diva as you are.'

Seth feels a stab of annoyance and thinks of hanging up, but before his whiskey fogged brain can do anything Dean is talking again.

'He stopped complaining pretty fast when I sat on his cock though.'

Heat pulses through Seth again and it makes him clench his teeth. The muscle in his jaw jumps.

'I love watching him struggle; he looks so good like that. And I can just ride him; take as long as I want. Usually he's so possessive, a few nights ago he shoved my face into the bed and just fuckin railed me, I shit you not, I bit a hole through the sheet but I've never come so hard in my life.'

Seth's mouth falls open a little and he shifts his hips to make room for - fuck, not again. He has no self control-

'Sometimes he holds my hands behind my back fucks me with his tongue.' Seth's spine twitches and he shoots a hand to the front of his sweats and palms himself roughly- 'Jesus Christ Dean.'

'Sometimes I get on my knees and do it to him, just so he knows what it feels like and the noises he makes, Seth they're a thing of beauty.'

'Yeah,' Seth is breathless when he speaks and Dean's voice is changing, getting rougher and deeper.

'I hope to god you're touching yourself.'

Seth doesn't know what to say, except that he wants to hear more, except that he's a fucking mess, and when he's dragging his sweats down over his ass with one hand all he manages is 'keep going.'

Dean doesn't miss a beat. 'But one of his favourite things is when he's balls deep in me and I say your name.'

Seth lets himself moan a little, gripping his cock and stroking himself steadily, head rolling back over the edge of the bed and it barely registers that this is actually happening, and that maybe he's way more fucked than he thought.

'It gets him off that I think about you when we're screwing. Just imagine him pounding into me, his hands are on my hips, or in my hair or around my throat-'

'Oh, fuck.' Seth murmurs, feeling his dick twitch in his palm. He's panting already, warmth blooming over his chest and creeping over his face and he bites his lip desperately.

'He loves it hard and fast and I can take it, cause I'm good getting' fucked. He's brutal, kinda ruthless and its so good, Seth, and when I close my eyes and say your name he moans so loud like its out of his control and he's cursing, saying shit you never heard before. He's got a filthy fucking mouth.'

'Y-yeah?' Seth's eyes are shut tight and he's there, he's right there between them both-

'He loves it when I talk about you, asking me shit, did I like gagging on your cock, did you fuck me with your fingers and I say hell yeah, that one time you bent me over the sink in the restroom at our press tour and I promise you, it makes him come every time. I love feeling him fill me up, Seth, I love having him inside me and we're both thinking about you, I think he wants to watch you fuck me,'

'Oh my god,' Seth breathes.

'You'd like that, wouldn't you? Lettin' him watch us? Or maybe you could watch me ride him, maybe I'll suck your dick at the same time, maybe if you boys play nice you can share me-'

'Fuck, Dean.' And he's coming into his fist with sharp jerks of his hips, thighs twitching and shaking. He moans as his back arches, head swimming and dazed. Dean has stopped talking but Seth hears the hiss of air between his teeth and a moment later he sighs 'Holy shit, you're easy.' And it's not mocking at all; its thick and familiar and as Seth's hand stills on his dick and he gets his breath back his stomach twists a little at the thought of Dean alone, getting turned on from listening to him come.

It takes an insane amount of effort to speak actual words and not just pant and groan and slide sideways onto the floor but Seth manages it, because he feels fire in his chest, because he's drunk, and because every fibre of him wants this fixed.

'Tell me you're not on your back with your dick in your hand,' Seth challenges, attempting to sound like he's in control of at least half of what's happening instead of like he's been dragged under by a riptide-

'So what if I am?'

'I knew it.'

'Like you didn't just shoot your load thinking about me.'

'And?' Seth finds himself smiling and blames it instantly on tequila.

'Was it good?'

Seth knows that what Dean is really asking is if he was good; if he did a good job and it makes him squeeze his over sensitive cock and take a deep, unsteady inhale. 'You want a pat on the head?' He retorts.

Dean snorts laughter. 'I guess it's not that hard to get you going huh. You always were that way.'

'Obviously.'

'So, now what?'

Seth thinks for a moment, knows he won't get another chance like this.

King of detachment.

'Why don't you jerk off and send me a photo after.' He hangs up.

Covered in his own come and surrounded by empty bottles, he lets his phone drop onto the floor and kicks his legs out leisurely.

'Fuck you, Ambrose. I won this time.' He mutters to himself and feels a smirk twinge at the corners of his mouth.