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msbigredmachine · 11 months

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M.K.A.M. (My Kinda Morning) - Roman Reigns/Plus Size OC)

Who says birthday sex has to end after the birthday? Roman/Plus Size OC

PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x Plus Size OC

Warnings: SMUT all the way, lol

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: In honor of our Tribal Chief's 38th birthday and to celebrate his historic 1000-day title reign. Tumblr flagged my story so I had to upload it again🙄 Enjoy!

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Face Claim (Because Tumblr flagged it the last time)

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Birthdays occurred only once a year, so it was usually imperative that it was spent with the people you love. After nearly two months away from you, it was almost hard for Roman to believe that he was actually back in your arms and in your bed, and on his birthday no less. He wished he didn't have to leave you for such long periods of time, but you understood that it was the nature of the beast. You embraced this reality when you made the decision to start a relationship with not just a pro wrestler, but the champion and the face of the biggest wrestling company in the world. Still, he tried to compensate by putting pen to paper on a lighter travel schedule, as well as buying you a new dildo to keep you occupied in his absence. According to you, the dildo had gotten several workouts, and the daily, dirty text messages from him, outlining what he'd like to be doing to you, definitely helped too.

Yesterday was incredible. From the moment he called to inform you that his jet was en route to your city, you were completely beside yourself with the most erotic thoughts on exactly how you would celebrate his birthday. You weren't ashamed to admit that your hands had ventured between your thighs more than once during the day, barely paying attention to any of the meetings you were in, counting down the hours till you finally got to see him. When he showed up at your doorstep, you were naked and waiting. No surface in your loft was safe; the couch, the kitchen counter, your desk in your little office space, the stairs...you name it, Roman fucked you on top of it, only taking a break to eat some of the birthday cake you bought for him before carrying you up to your bedroom, where you spent the night licking buttercream frosting off your bodies and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of each other.

It was just past six in the morning, meaning you still had some time before you had to get up for work. Through the white sheer curtains of your bedroom window, the beautiful red and orange sunrise kissed the rich melanin of your skin. As the Tribal Chief watched the colors adorn your sleeping face, he felt his heart swell with renewed love and lust for you. He lay behind you, with your body cocooned in his warm and solid frame. You fit together perfectly.

He rested his hand on your hip, admiring the streaks of wavy stretch marks there. His sexy little tiger. He definitely had you mewling and purring like one when he put it on you last night. Faint lines of cake frosting smudged your brown skin, and he swiped each one with his finger and put in his mouth. He then let his hand travel along your waist, awed by the mouthwatering curves that belonged to him. Then, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you back into him with a sigh. You seemed to still be asleep, and he really wanted to wake you up.

So, he started rotating his hips, pressing his morning erection against your sumptuous backside, nestling the impressive length between your ass cheeks. His hand slid up to your breasts, cupping one gently. As his finger grazed your nipple, you finally stirred. Your body shifted, causing your backside to rub up on his dick, and he grinded against you more purposefully, closing his hand tighter around your breast as he kissed your neck.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, your voice throaty and scratchy from sleep.

Roman nuzzled your shoulder, pressing another kiss to your skin. "I've missed you so much, my love."

He had shown you just how much last night. For hours. Your Samoan stallion possessed the stamina of three stellar athletes and you loved it. But right now... "I've missed you too. But I need to be up for work soon," you reasoned. You rolled onto your belly, which put a bit of distance between you.

"Call in sick. It's still my birthday," he implored.

"You know I can't, babe," you murmured, resting your head atop your crossed forearms, facing him and shutting your eyes. Your thick, sumptuous butt curved enticingly in the air thanks to your new sleeping position, prompting Roman to reach out to massage one of your cheeks, groping and squeezing the supple flesh in his palm.

It didn't surprise you to feel your pussy immediately tingle from his caress. His hands on you never failed to set your pulse racing. But you needed your rest. He already had you up all damn night, rendering your throat hoarse and your limbs like spaghetti. In another attempt to deter him, you rolled onto your back, your breasts and your womanhood on display.

Big mistake.

The Tribal Chief's eyes lit up like Christmas trees. His big hand cupped your breast again, thumbing the puckered nipple, then doing the same with the other. His fingertips made a delicate trail down the plane of your stomach, which spasmed from his touch. His fingers skimmed over your sensitive pussy lips, which were still tender and puffy from last night. He started to stroke you and you tried to squeeze your legs together to stop him, but he wasn't having that shit.

"Open your legs," he growled.

"Babe, I'm sleepy," you whined with a frown on your face, "I won't get up on time if we do this."

"I told you to call in sick. I'll handle your boss. It's my birthday and I want my present. Now spread 'em."

Fuck, you couldn't resist when he got all bossy and domineering with you. Of course, you relented, your legs falling open like they always did. Why did he have to look at you like that? He was so damn fine and he knew that shit. All it took was one look into that smoldering gaze of his and you were putty in his hands.

Your breath caught as he rubbed you faster, his body shifting much closer to you, reoccupying your space. His big beautiful dick pressed your upper thigh, damn near pulsating against your skin. You couldn't help but stare at it. Long and thick, accompanied by a heavy set of balls that made you drool.

Hovering over you, Roman smirked at your famished expression, and moved his fingers in small circles, spreading your wetness all around your folds. Then, he slowly sank them into you, his groan harmonizing with yours. He could feel how swollen you were from the pounding you took, but you were so wet his fingers slid in effortlessly anyway, your slick, hot flesh enveloping the digits.

"Baby..." you gasped, arching into him.

Your little squirms of protest had dwindled, which was how he knew he was slowly breaking you down. He moved in for the kill.

"I can eat it if you want," he offered, intentionally licking his lips that were a hair's breadth away from yours, and suddenly you wanted that mouth on you more than anything in the world.

"Mmm, yes please."

Bullseye. Roman sat up and kneeled before you, spreading your legs far apart and inspecting you down there. "That's the definition of a pretty pussy right here. All beat up and swole. Did I pound you good last night, baby girl?" he asked.

God, his voice. Deep and dripping with arrogance and sex as he talked dirty to you. It made your knees weak and your pussy moisten. "Yes, Daddy, it was so good."

His thumb stroked your pussy lips, fascinated by how fat and wet they were. "Gotta taste this sweet cunt again before I give you this dick, right?"

Before you could open your mouth to reply, Roman descended on you, spreading his mouth over your core. You were wide awake now, your hand on the back of his head while he went to work. You still tasted like cake, making you that much sweeter for his palette. He drooled all over that pretty pussy, causing you to moan and whine for him. Roman slurped on you a little more before bringing his eyes up to meet yours with a lick of his lips. You were breathing deeply with your mouth parted and irises low and lustful.

"Roman..."

Ducking his head again, he feasted heartily on you, not stopping this time around. Delicious, wet ass pussy that belonged in his mouth day and night. His huge hands glided up your torso before cupping your breasts. His tweaking of your nipples caused a flood, making his mouth so watery that with each suck, his saliva made its way down to the crack of your ass. Roman's mouth was hard at work, tonguing you down and French-kissing your meaty outer lips.

You were grinding his face now, your hands grabbing everywhere, the sheets, his head, his shoulders. Your ass clenched and your hips bucked as pleasure lapped at you with the same devastating impact as his tongue.

"Unnnh fuck, I'm comin', Daddy I'm comin'!" you cried and moaned and writhed on the bed. This man was going to be the death of you. You stared at him wide-eyed before your eyes rolled back as something inside you unlocked. Your neighbors could probably hear your scream as you came in his mouth. You pushed at his head, your body craving relief but not getting it, his dark chuckle vibrating against your pussy as he refused to free you from his clutches.

Your moans and screams made his dick so hard. Roman shifted forwards to pin your thighs down to your chest, his tongue still moving like a hurricane. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but for him, you would do anything. In your spare time you would practice contorting your legs for minutes on end because you wanted to please him, because you deemed him worthy enough to step out of your comfort zone and take a little pain for. Besides, the pleasure you received in return was out of this world, so it was definitely worth it.

A weak gasp rumbled in your heaving chest as he started sucking on your clit, aiming to make you come once again. All you could hear were the wet, gushy sounds his mouth was making while eating you out, and it was enough to trigger you again. With your fingers digging into his hair, you welcomed your second orgasm of the morning with a pleasured moan. He ate you out so good your eyes fluttered shut from exhaustion.

"Nah, keep your eyes open, sweetheart. I'm 'bout to tear this pussy up...again," he warned.

You could only watch, prone and helpless, as Roman crawled on top of you and made himself comfortable between your legs. He ensured to put all his body weight on top of you, and the feel of his muscles against your belly, chest, and thighs had your stomach doing flips. The softness of his full lips against your collar bone, with a generous helping of tongue, the scruff of his facial hair tickling you, made you exhale shakily. As he brought his kisses upwards, you angled your head to meet his lips. Your tongues twined around the other's for a couple of seconds before your mouths sealed together in sensual, intimate kisses.

Roman shifted his body above you, his hand slipping back down between your thighs, two long, thick fingers teasing your folds before breaching inside. He cupped your entire mound in his palm, massaging, working you until you were squirming and moaning his name. To further torture you, he ducked his head down, generously swirling his tongue around each of your nipples before sucking them one by one between his lips. The Tribal Chief found your titties irresistible. He loved them; couldn't stop touching and playing with them. Grabbing them with both hands, he flicked his tongue over them, getting them nice and wet, switching between sucking your nipples with his mouth and plucking them with his fingers. You could feel your pussy tense from the pleasure surging through your body. But you didn't want Daddy to feel left out, so you reached for his dick and started stroking him. His deep moan in reaction made you feel on top of the world.

"Mmm, that's it, make Daddy rock-hard," he whispered, watching the way you stroked and squeezed and teased him. You loved the weight and feel of him in your hand. A seep of precum made the head slick and elicited another surge of wetness between your legs. You strengthened your stroking motions along his shaft, biting your lip when he thrust briefly against your hand. With a harsh moan, he managed to break free from your intoxicating touch so he could focus on giving you the dick he promised.

Rolling you onto your belly, he maneuvered behind you, pressed your chest and shoulders into the bed, and raised your ass in the air, your knees spread wide with your feet close together and tucked under him. Perfect. He palmed each of your rounded cheeks, molding the flesh greedily in his hands. His cock strained against your pussy, and involuntarily, you moved your hips, desperate for contact. He took his dick and lined it along your slit, spreading your wetness around as he slowly worked the bell-shaped head inside you. Your bodies trembled seemingly as one as he filled you to the hilt, savoring the quivering of your pussy around his length.

"Daddy..." you moaned.

"Shhh, I gotchu," he hushed you with a low chuckle, caressing your body, making you feel good. His hands stopped at your hips and he started to move in and out of you, stretching your opening, holding back on you just a bit. He bent close to your ear, his lips ghosting along your jawline. "Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me you want it."

"I want it. Fuck me, Daddy."

"I know you do. Shit, you stay so damn tight. Good god, babe."

His breathing sped up and his grip tightened on your hips, letting out a deep, visceral groan as he thrust a little faster inside you. You fought the urge to scream as he went deep, burying himself in you. "Fuck, Daddy, yeah!"

With his fingers digging into the meat of your hips, he drilled your pussy, hard, his balls slapping against your clit. As much as you whimpered and moaned, you remained on your knees and took every inch like a champ. You could feel the head of his cock meet the bottom of your pussy with every thrust. It was a shock to your system, how deep he was in you, yet you could still feel him trying to go deeper, straining to be closer to you. Your pussy gripped him again and again and you had to bite into the pillow to contain your loud moans, your hands fisting the satin sheets. The mix of his spit with your cum caused your pussy to make the wettest, filthiest sounds as he fucked you. Eager to hear more, Roman circled his hips, pushing his dick right up against your g-spot, slapping your ass in time with his grinding strokes. Another groan escaped him at the sight of his glistening cock, covered in your juices, sending shivers down his spine. One last flick of his hips finished you off. It was an experience watching you release all over his cock, your pussy squeezing around him, your booty cheeks quivering from how hard you were coming.

"Shit." Your mouth fell open, your beautiful face twisted in blissful agony as you struggled to catch your breath.

Smiling proudly at his handiwork, the Tribal Chief squeezed and smacked your backside one last time before lying down on his back. "C'mere. Put that pretty mouth on my cock."

Managing to unravel your body from the position he twisted you in, you moved over to him and grabbed up his throbbing shaft, spreading the cream you left all over the intimidating length. You released a wad of spit on the tip of his cock and used it to lather him up nice and good. You licked along the side of his dick before taking him halfway into your mouth. Your man tasted so good, his flesh hard and smooth against the flat of your tongue.

"Mmmmm. Nasty ass mouth taking all that big dick. So hot. Suck that shit, baby, taste your pussy on it," he goaded.

You moaned at his words with your mouth full of his cock. Such a nasty shit talker, and it never failed to get your pussy Ieaking. Your hands rested on his thighs now, only working your neck and your wet, juicy lips up and down his length. You moaned on him again and it delivered a vibrating sensation to his dick, causing it to harden even more in your mouth. Easing up on him, you traced circles around his head with your tongue, drawing out pleasured gasps from him as he watched your every move with blown pupils. You took note of every little sound and moan of pleasure he made during sex...It meant you were doing him right, and you were learning to be even better to please both you and your sexy man.

"This my dick, Daddy?" you asked him.

"Yes, baby girl, it is, it's all yours." Roman hummed with satisfaction. You looked so fucking hot, slobbering all over his dick and giving it your undivided attention. His muscled hips bucked upwards to thrust in and out of your mouth. Pulling off your bonnet, he grabbed your hair and held you down on his cock, fucking your mouth over and over, at one point pushing himself so far down your throat that you made a startled sound of protest and popped him out of your mouth to glare at him.

"Hey! You tryna make me gag?" you warned.

Roman merely shrugged. "Damn right. I ain't apologizing, neither. Don't stop. Keep sucking me off."

"Asshole. You lucky I love you." You shifted your focus to his balls and used your lips to tug and pull each one while stroking his flesh pole at the same time. You could hear his gasps, feel him fidgeting, his fingers in your scalp, thanks to your ministrations. You were driving him crazy and you both knew it.

"Fuck, shit, your mouth feels so good on me, girl...you gon' make me come...Damn..."

Roman grunted deep and his big hand yanked you by your neck, shoving his dick back in your mouth where it belonged. With a firm push of your head, you swallowed him up again with a moan. Done with the games, your head bobbed up and down, dragging your lips along his cock in a tight seal, pumping him in your fist, working him into a frenzy.

"Baby, baby," Roman called for you, his balls growing tighter and tighter. Heat bloomed in his belly and his toes twisted. His fingers trembled in your hair as he erupted in your inviting mouth, emptying inside you for the umpteenth time in several hours. You caught every drop of his warm seed without making a mess. Releasing him, you opened your mouth to show him his morning nut.

"Damn, you got all of it," he moaned, taking your chin in his hand and inspecting your mouth. "Good girl. Swallow it and let Daddy see."

Obediently, you swallowed down his load, opening your empty mouth again as proof. Roman growled and crashed your lips together, savoring the tastes of you and him on your tongues. "My baby is such a good girl. Lay back down for me."

"Yes, Daddy." His dazed expression had you giggling while you moved around the bed for him, wiping the excess spit from your mouth. As soon as you were on your back, he pushed your legs up and out of the way. Grabbing the base of his dick, he wasted little time entering you again, holding himself up so that he could drop all this dick down in your pussy. You stared up at him, your lips parted almost in shock; he was so hard and so deep. You looked from his dick to his face again in a euphoric daze. He was rock-hard and digging into your wetness, the lewd sounds echoing around the bedroom. You went to rub your clit but he smacked your hand away.

"Uh-uh, hands off my pussy. I warned you last night about touching this pussy without my consent." As punishment, he picked up the pace.

"Oh my god," you gasped.

His grin was wicked as he watched you push at his abs to no avail. "Haha, I ain't going nowhere, baby. Take this dick like you took it last night. I ain't pulling out neither, you know Daddy don't like to pull out. Now hold your legs up for me."

Before you knew it, you found yourself clasping your calves and rearing your legs further back, allowing him to have his wicked way with you. You were trapped beneath him with nowhere to run, just how he liked it. He rocked that big ol' dick into you, grinding his hips in the most artful way, his body rolling, ebbing, flowing, plunging, making you feel every inch and making you fall in love with him all over again.

And to think, people called missionary boring. The man you were fucking made sure no position was boring. Not many women were as lucky as you were, to have a passionate, attentive partner who knew exactly how to please you.

"You fuck me so good, baby," you praised him, your voice a high-pitched, breathless mewl. “Fuck, you’re making me so wet.”

"Uh huh, you’re making a mess on my cock. I love it. You know I love taking care of my girl and my pussy," he answered, leaning down for a tender kiss.

"You always take good care of me, Daddy. I love you so much."

"I love you too, my sweet girl." Your affirmations seemed to turn him into an animal, as his thrusts became harder, deeper, rougher, the big bed rocking from his forceful movements. He could see your grip on your legs slipping so he grabbed them for you, pinning them down to the bed by the back of your knees. Your toes curled in the air as he kept up his electrifying strokes. The heat you felt creeping up was so strong that you shut your eyes tightly in anticipation. A flood of warm liquid gushed out of you and all over his already creamy dick, making you both moan out loud. When he slipped out of you, you shivered, and then just about fainted when he crept downwards and put his mouth back over you.

"Unnnhhh shiiiit..." you breathed, as he slowly worked his tongue in and around that sweet spot he had since mastered, slurping up your cum juice. You squirmed and squealed helplessly, tears springing to your eyes as another delicious climax built up inside you. Your head fell back onto the bed, incapable of doing any other thing except moan and cry. Too spent to scream, you could only make strangled sobs as another orgasm wracked your body yet again.

When he glided his dick back inside your now sensitive cunt, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Roman groaned as you tightened around him, your walls suckling him inch by inch. Bracing himself up with his powerful arms, he nudged your legs up onto his broad shoulders, giving you the perfect view of your pussy taking all his big dick. You turned your head every which way, your weakened body bouncing from the moderate pace of his thrusts. Roman chuckled in amusement at your reaction, his deep, raspy laugh almost taunting.

"Aww, you don't wanna look at me, beautiful? Can't handle how good this dick is?" he teased, kissing away the tears on your cheeks before swiveling his hips around and around, burying himself inside you. "Mmm, you like this, don’t ya? I can tell you like it. You're squeezin' the shit outta my dick. Bet you're feeling real good right now..."

More than good. You were as wet as a waterfall and floating high as a kite right now. Your head arched back into the pillows as he kept putting that dick in your stomach, your voice now hoarse from all your moans and cries. Roman brought his face closer and reacquainted his tongue with yours, absorbing your moan as you tasted yourself in his mouth. In turn, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Through the haze of passion, you honed in on the sounds of pleasure he was making, the relentless steadiness of his strokes, driving into you with enough momentum to sink you into the sheets.

"God, your pussy is incredible, baby," he murmured under his breath between heated kisses. "Goddamn...I'm 'bout to fill that pussy up, put a damn baby in you."

The waves of searing pleasure rolled outward from where your bodies connected. Roman felt the pull as his balls tightened, inducing him to fuck you harder, faster. You could feel it too, and you reached behind him to rake your nails down his lower back, desperate to end this before you lost control of all your senses and capacities. That small slice of pain was enough to push the Tribal Chief over the edge, your name grinding past his lips as he spasmed inside you. He forced himself as deep as he could down your pussy, emptying his cum in you. Your muscles clenched around him, milking every drop, pulse after pulse of almost painful pleasure mixing with the roaring in his ears. The twitching of his dick ignited another shockwave through your whole body, making you tremble one last time in his arms in a spine-tingling, bone-melting orgasm of your own.

When it was all over, you crawled away from him, lying spread-eagled, gasping for air, your hair a mess. He lay sprawled beside you, gently tracing the love marks he left on your backside and hips. You were too tired to even turn your head, so you missed the victorious smile on his face as he surveyed the 'damage' he caused.

"You good, baby?" he asked you, his fingers massaging your waist in small soothing circles.

There was a faraway look in your eyes. You felt woozy, your body weak and sore from pleasure. You did not mince your words when delivering your assessment. "You a damn demon."

The twinkle in his eye was just as devilish. "And you love it," he replied with a confident smile, "Am I right, sweetheart?"

Fuck. This man was indeed going to be the death of you. "You know you are," you said softly. Craning your head to check the time on your phone charging on the nightstand, you kissed your teeth tiredly. "I'm gonna be so late."

"I thought I said you should call in sick. Here, let me do it for you." He picked up his phone and searched for a contact. You spied the name he was calling and had to fight back a smile.

"I should never have given you my boss' number," you griped, albeit good-naturedly.

"Come on. He loves ya boy," he chortled. He was right, your boss George was a huge wrestling fan and worshipped the ground Roman walked on. You half-listened to their conversation, holding back a giggle at the serious professional tone your man was using. Severe food poisoning, he said grimly, that it did not look good, and he was taking you to the hospital shortly. He put his phone away with aplomb. "See? Done. I told you Daddy always takes care of his baby girl," he said proudly. "Now we can stay in bed all day and eat more cake, among...other things."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you would have laughed if you weren't so exhausted. Thank God you didn't have to get up anymore. You allowed him to wrap his big arms around you, and you snuggled into him, letting him envelop you in the loving protective way he always did. A happy sigh left your lips as you felt his own press against your temple, whispering words of love to you, permitting you to fade back to sleep, completely and utterly satisfied.

THE END

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Thoughts? The Bloodline may be falling apart but our smut will never die, lol.

Please leave comments. I love comments!

Banner made by me. Roman gif by @harmshake. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #the tribal chief #tribal chief #daddy #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns imagine #happy birthday roman #the bloodline #roman reigns x plus size reader #roman reigns x black reader

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edupunkn00b · 11 months

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The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 8: Roman

Prev - Roman - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3195 - Rated G but for an f-bomb or two - Fluff and hidden angst

“Dad?” Remy poked his head through the door as he wiggled his key out of the lock. “I guess it’s been a while, huh?” he grinned at Emile over his shoulder.

“Mm-hm,” Emile smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’ve chosen not to be offended that it was the promise of a reunion with your first crush that finally got you to come down for a visit to your dad’s house,” he murmured close to his ear, a puff of laughter warming his cheek.

“I didn’t have a—” Remy’s protest was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

“Remy! You’re here!” Dad dried his hands on a tea towel tucked primly into the ties of his apron and pulled him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you,” he said, quieter. He held him tighter for a long moment before pushing himself away, hands still gripping his shoulders. “I know, I know, dad hugs,” he murmured. “I won’t embarrass you.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I missed you, too,” Remy murmured back. “Is that a new tie?” he asked pulling back. He swore Dad blushed, smoothing it down.

“Too loud?” he asked

“Naw, it looks great, Dad,” Remy grinned and Dad’s face lost some of the tension around the eyes.

“Hugs are quite alright, Mr. Sanders!” Emile as he stepped through the doorway, wiping his feet on the mat. “My parents did the same thing when we visited last week.”

“Emile!” Dad grinned and clapped his shoulder. “Welcome! It’s always nice to see Remy’s friends. Come in, come in,” he held the door for them and they moved into the hallway, slipping off their shoes. “So do your parents live close to the University?”

“No, sir, they live a couple miles from here, over on Mercer Island,” he answered, distracted as he struggled with a knot in his bootlace. Emile froze when his words registered and his eyes darted up to Remy’s. "Fuck, I’m sorry," he mouthed and they both watched his dad’s back.

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “That’s… really good that you got out to see them.” He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before turning around and smiling back at them.

“We would’ve come by, Dad,” Remy began, reaching for his arm. Damn. “We were just—” We were just too busy with the dinner Emile’s parents threw to celebrate the engagement I haven’t told you about yet.

“Remy, you don’t need to justify to me how you spend your time.” Dad covered his hand and gave it a little squeeze. Remy searched his eyes and… he meant it. His dad was shit at hiding the hurt but he meant what he said. “You’re here now,” he smiled. “Patton’s still on his way and Virgil won’t be here until late—he’s at a gig. And—”

The doorbell rang and both Dad and Emile jumped. Dad cleared his throat again and patted his hand. “And that’s likely Roman,” he said, staring at the door like it might bite him. Finally, he stepped forward and pulled open the door.

A deep, weirdly familiar voice rumbled from the doorstep, “Permission to board your TARDIS, Doctor?”

“Ro—” Dad’s voice cracked behind a bubble of laughter. “Roman, yes, of course.” Emile shot him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, eyebrows raised with a little crooked smile, and they both watched as his dad reached out as though to shake and hug him at the same time. “Oh, sorry,” he said as they both fumbled with a bag. “Please come in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door along with a large bag from Piroshky’s. Remy’s stomach grumbled when the sweet, heavy aroma of honey, cinamon, and cheese filled the hallway.

Roman was tall. Not as tall as Remy remembered him, of course, but taller than Dad. Backlit with the late morning sun pouring into the dim hall, Roman’s hair glowed and he waved at them with a movie star’s smile. Well, a West End star, for sure. “Remy?” he asked, eyes wide and his grin even wider. “Look at you!” Roman stepped closer, arms open in invitation. “You look just like your dad!”

Remy felt his cheeks warm and Emile grinned at him, giving his shoulder a little bump to nudge him closer. He stepped forward and accepted Roman’s hug, his heart doing a weird cozy flip flop in his chest. He'd been afraid his childish crush might seep through, but it wasn’t at all like when he hugged Emile. It was kinda like when he hugged Dad. Warm and safe. Roman pulled back and ruffled his hair, “You’ve grown into a handsome young man.” He grinned, looking between him at Emile. “Well, are you going to introduce me to your—”

“This is Emile Patshke. Emile’s my housemate up at Western,” Remy nodded. Roman never lost his friendly smile, but his eyes lingered on the onyx and pink quartz ring on Emile’s outstretched hand, then back and forth between the matching pink and black streaks in their hair.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emile,” he said, bowing his head before catching Remy’s eyes one more time. “So,” he started, looking around the group. “I’m afraid it took me a little longer than I’d planned to get here…” He touched the Piroshky’s bag in Dad’s hand with a little grin. “These might need a few minutes wrapped in foil in the oven.” He gave Dad a happy little shrug. “Want to lead the way?”

“Oh, I’ll take care of that,” Dad nodded, eyes on the bag and missing the falter in Roman’s smile. “Here, Remy…” His voice drifted as he hurried to the kitchen and returned with a tray of cups and tumblers, a sweaty pitcher and a teapot in a cozy. “Will you take this to the living room and help everyone get settled? I’ll be just a moment.”

“Of course, Dad,” Remy smiled, watching Roman watch his dad retreat into the kitchen. He caught his eyes and he started to follow him down the hall. Roman didn’t get far before looking one more time over his shoulder. Possessed by who knew what, Remy mouthed, “Go on,” and jerked his chin toward the kitchen doorway.

Roman’s eyebrows raised but a bright smile spread across his face. He ruffled Remy’s hair one more time before turning back to the kitchen. “Lo, please allow me to help,” he said, flashing one more smile at the younger pair.

Once in the living room, Emile curled into the corner of the couch, relaxing into the sunniest spot like a cat. His gaze danced between the kitchen and Remy’s face as he poured him a cup of tea. “You know…" Emile murmured near his ear once he sat next to him. "I’m pretty sure your dad’s new boyfriend is a solid sign he’ll be safe for you to come out to,”

“What? My dad’s not—” A peal of laughter interrupted him and they watched through the cutout over the counter dividing the kitchen and the living room. Cheeks flushed, Dad threw his head back, laughing at something Roman had said. Gasping with laughter, he leaned forward, hand resting on the taller man’s shoulder. The cabinets blocked their view of Roman’s face, but his body was relaxed and turned toward Dad, his own low laughter spilling out.

Emile’s lips were curled in a knowing smile that would’ve been cocky on anyone else. On him it just looked cute. “When’s the last time your dad bought himself a new tie?” He bumped his shoulder and let their thighs brush together. “In fact, when’s the last time your dad laughed like that?”

“I don’t know,” Remy finally said. “A long time.” Maybe never.

Despite his protestations that it had been a while since he’d worked with kids, Roman was still just as kind, just as gentle with Remy as he’d been when the boys were little. And Remy grinned like s a little boy when he’d ruffled his hair, glancing at his friend like he might join in. It was sweet and, for a moment, his eldest son looked just as young as he did in Logan’s head.

Remy was about to graduate from college but Logan couldn’t quite give up the image of the little boy he’d once been. Even his contact picture was still the same selfie twelve-year old Remy had taken with his first little camera phone. Grainy, too tiny to use for much more than an icon or profile picture. But Logan cherished it.

Distracted by his musings, he nearly dropped the bag when Roman’s long, strong fingers brushed his hand where he gripped the twisted paper handle. His hand was warm and soft, and he seemed not to have noticed he’d accidentally touched Logan's hand. “Oh…” he sucked in a breath and nodded. “I’ll take care of that,” he managed, a flash of last night’s dream exploding through his mind as he retreated to the kitchen. He put the bag on the counter and pressed his palms flat against the cool surface and stole a second to breathe.

His thinking brain kicked in when his eyes landed on the drink tray he’d prepared. Get it together, man. Luckily, Remy was as cooperative as ever and readily accepted the tray. After only a moment, Logan was left alone to think—no, not think. Don't think, just get the pastries warmed up. He turned on the oven and the timer, and was reaching for the foil when Roman’s voice rumbled just behind him, offering to help.

He spun around, ready to shoo him back to the living room, but a brush of worry clouded his bright green eyes. If Logan didn’t know better, he might’ve thought Roman looked afraid he’d say no. “That would be nice,” he nodded once, cheeks warming at the way Roman’s smile seemed to grow. “Thank you, Roman.”

Waggling his fingers. he gestured toward the sink. “I’ll wash my hands.” Roman hummed as he sudsed up, a low baritone that might've sounded showy coming from anyone else. From Roman, though, it simply sounded like music filled him, slipping out as easily as breathing and just as impossible to control. His head bobbed to the beat of some song Logan didn’t recognize, sunlight glinting off his hair and leaving behind fiery highlights. Roman had nearly finished before Logan dragged his eyes away and hurried to tear off a sheet of foil and lay the sweet rolls in the center.

Still grinning, Roman joined him at the counter as he was folding the foil packet. He pointed at the TARDIS cookie jar and bumped his shoulder. “I like your decor,” he said.

“Oh, right.” Moving to place the rolls in the oven, Logan felt his cheeks grow hot and he looked up, expecting a sarcastic smirk or eye roll but… Roman’s smile was broad and joyful. “I guess we’re a little geeky around here,” he chuckled.

“I like it,” he said again, green eyes even brighter with the sunlight pouring in from the side windows. “You know, subjectively, Dr. Who really is the best sci-fi show out there.”

Nodding, the knot between Logan’s shoulder blades loosened and he grinned back. “I… I would tend to agree with that assessment.”

“Objectively, though…” Roman winked at him. “I’d have to say it’s Dr. Whom.”

Logan covered his mouth, trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh. The sparkle in Roman’s eyes won and a loud laugh burst out. Roman soon joined in and Logan only laughed harder, leaning forward and fighting to catch his breath. “Oh, no,” he panted, eyes watering. “Leave it to a Shakespeareophile to make a joke like that.”

Roman grinned back at him. “Leave it to another to get it,” he chuckled.

Slowly, Logan caught his breath. He was still grasping Roman’s shoulder, half leaning against his warm, solid form. “Sorry,” he murmured, and stepped back, restoring his personal space.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, easy, confident. As though it was no big deal that he was leaning all over him. “Oh, there are some cream piroshkys in there, too.” He watched Logan retrieve the box still nestled at the bottom of the bag before pushing away from the counter. “Which cabinet for plates?” he asked and Logan bit back a refusal, his hopeful smile leaving him wanting to do anything to keep him smiling.

“Above the dishwasher,” he said, a burst of warmth filling his chest when Roman rewarded him with another million-watt smile.

They were arranging the pastries on a large plate when Remy and Emile’s muffled voices drew their attention. Logan and Roman both smiled, surreptitiously watching them through the cutout over the counter. “I’m so glad he’s found someone he gets along with. They’ve been roommates since Remy’s sophomore year,” he murmured. “He's not like me," spilled out. Roman stopped laying out the pastries and moved a little closer, a little frown of worry pulling down his lips. "Ke—My… ex is the only person I still know from college.” Logan covered his left hand with his right before clearing his throat. “Well, and Janus from law school.” Roman shifted next to him, looking down at his own hands on the counter. Logan copied his earlier movement, knocking into his shoulder with a smile. “And of course, now, you, too.”

Roman nodded, mouth slowly curling up in a smile as he bumped back. “Maybe sometimes it just takes a while for you to find your tribe.”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling. “You know,” he chuckled. “I—I don’t know what your secret is, but…” Logan shrugged, mouth suddenly dry. “You’re… you're so easy to smile around.”

“Yeah?” Roman turned, elbow resting on the counter. His hand was close enough to Logan’s that he could feel the warmth radiating off it. Logan hid his left hand a little more fully, his crooked fingers feeling like a crone’s claws next to Roman’s shapely ones. “You make me smile, too, Lo,” he said. “In fact I—”

Logan started when the oven timer buzzed, heart leaping up into his throat, and he huffed out a thin laugh. “I—I’ll get it,” he said, flashing Roman a grin before grabbing the oven mitts and setting down a trivet for the hot pan.

In no time, they’d finished plating both the warm and cold piroshkis and brought them out to the living room with a stack of adorable TARDIS blue napkins. Roman waited until Logan had settled next to Remy, leaving him the choice of an armchair or a spot next to him on the couch.

Roman took the couch.

The conversation dipped and bobbed, dancing between Remy and Emile’s studies—they were both up for fellowships at UW, Roman’s latest touring show, and Remy and Virgil’s time at the Seattle U childcare center.

“Oh, they were the best behaved kids in the entire center,” Roman grinned, refilling Lo’s tea cup before he topped off his own. “Super sweet, kind to the other kids. Oh!" Do you still sign?” he asked aloud and in ASL.

“Of course,” he signed. “My high school taught it as a ‘foreign’ language,” Remy added, the exaggerated look of disgust on his face pulling a laugh from him. The young man’s eyes widened in surprise. “You still sign?”

“We use it in shows,” he nodded. “You haven’t signed until you’ve translated Othello and Shakespeare’s ‘beast with two backs’ line.”

“I believe I got part of that,” Logan chuckled, the soft pink dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose revealing which part. It looked like Emile had gotten the rest.

Roman waited until Lo was drinking his tea and signed quickly to Remy. “You’re not out to your dad?”

His eyes darted over to his father then signed a quick, “No.”

“Were you going to tell him at the wedding?” he winked, looking pointedly at Emile’s ring before taking a bite of his piroshky. “You know where he works, right? You don’t have to tell me that some parents are assholes but… your dad’s not one of them.”

“I think they’re scheming against us, Emile,” Logan joked, the genuine joy in his eyes easing Roman’s worry that he was offended at their private conversation.

Emile's eyes followed each of them as they spoke, clearly grasping more of the conversation than he was letting on. He laughed. “I think you’re right Mr. Sanders. We should—”

The front door opened with a clatter, both Logan and Emile jerking in their seats, and Roman and Remy each reached for them, Remy’s hand on Emile’s clenched in his lap and Roman’s on Logan’s knee. A younger voice rang out from the hallway. “Dad? Remy? I’m home! Is he here yet?”

The squeaky clatter of sneakers dropping to the floor accompanied quieter footsteps racing down the hall and a younger, blond version of Remy and Logan raced into the living room. Roman rose and smiled. Logan stood with him. “Patton? This is Roman Prince.”

Bubbling with energy, Patton bounced over, grinning. “Hi! I’m Patton!” he said, shoving his hand out to shake. He was still pumping Roman’s hand when he turned to his brother. “So is this the same Roman you had that—”

“Roman was our teacher back when Dad was still in law school,” he said quickly, looking up at Roman. He pretended not to notice that Remy blushed the same way his dad did.

“Oh, right. Hiya, Emile!” he said, giving him a little fist bump before he wiggled his way between Logan and Remy. His knee bounced even as he rested his head on his dad’s shoulder and settled in.

Remy and Logan exchanged an amused look and Patton suddenly sat up straighter. “Oh, no, I’m doing the thing again, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay, Pat,” Remy smiled and ruffled his little brother’s hair just as Roman had done to him.

“I always sit between them,” Patton explained, reaching for a piroshky. Logan wordlessly set a napkin on his lap, a pleased smile tugging at his lips when Patton settled back between them. “I swear I don’t mean to,” he said.

“We know, Pat,” Remy assured him. Emile watched their exchange with a little grin.

He scarfed down the piroshky then turned his attention to Roman again. “Your name is cool,” he said. “‘Roman Prince,’” he said, hands waving like the words were written in the air. “Is it a stage name?”

“No, Roman Prince is my legal name,” Roman smiled. The couch decidedly more crowded with Patton’s arrival, he now sat closer to Logan, thighs touching. Logan didn't seem to mind and it was… nice. Almost distractingly so. “My brother and I chose our own names when we turned 18 and moved out on our own.”

Something must have leaked through on his face because Logan turned to face him. “Roman, if this is overly personal, you needn’t—” he began, worry creasing his brow.

“It was a long time ago," Roman assured, “Besides—”

“That’s so cool! That’s what Jax is gonna do.” He scowled and Logan drew an arm over his shoulders, clearly more to the story than Roman knew. “Their parents won’t stop deadnaming them, so I just don’t say their name when I visit.” His knee started to bounce again and he wiggled back out from between his dad and his brother. “Hey, Dad, can I go call them? Tell them somebody else did it?”

“Of course, Patton,” he said. No longer forced to squeeze in, Logan made no move to slide away from him and Roman couldn’t help his growing smile. Maybe… maybe Remy wasn't the only one with a secret.

“Oh, that’s just cold, man,” Remy called after him, laughter revealing the lack of bite behind his words. “I changed my name when I turned 18, too.”

“Yeah, that was just your last name,” Patton said with the irreverence of a little sibling. “Roman changed his whole name,” he added, sticking out his tongue before scampering up the stairs, phone already in hand.

“Wow,” Remy laughed. “A few years at college and I’m nothing but chopped liver to him.”

Emile patted his knee. “Gehakte leber is really good if you know how to cook it,” he joked. “Remember when Stopsky’s catered my parent’s anniversary last year?”

“That’s different,” he laughed. Logan watched them banter for a while before he shook his head lightly, a perplexed little smile on his face, and he turned his clear blue eyes to Roman.

“What else can you tell us about your show?”

~~~

My taglist is completely out of date. Please ask to be added if you're so inclined!

#the uses of adversity #life out of order series #a happily ever after butterfly story #logince #logan sanders #roman prince #remus prince #remy sanders #emile patshke #remile #secret remile #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #Happy Birthday Roman #sorry for the slow burn #i thought we'd get you two further along by now

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