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For all that he calls Brian a slut (“’course I mean it lovingly, bro, but damn, you’re slutty”), Roman’s the one who goes full speed ahead at the slightest provocation. A touch here, a push there, an easy grin at the right moment, and Rome’s the one whose eyes glaze over, greedy fingers reaching out to tug a loop of Brian’s belt.
Brian always goes to Rome when he pulls, but who can blame him? He’s never been able to resist Rome, not since they were kids, getting into shit and sharing the blame for it until they couldn’t anymore. But Brian doesn’t like to think about that much, not when he can enjoy this now, the way Rome’s whole face lights up when Brian climbs on top of him, four sets of fingers busy pulling at each other’s clothing.
“You’re such a fuckin’ tease,” Rome says, which is hilarious because Brian’s not the one who always takes off his shirt for no good goddamn reason. Roman keeps saying it’s because Miami’s a fucking sauna, but there’s no mistaking the expectant glint in his eye when he puts his goods on show – just as there’s no mistaking who the show is for.
“You’re the tease, you and stupid washboard abs,” Brian says, bending down to lick a line across said abs. “Oh, look at poor little Roman, can’t even afford a cloth to wipe his car, has to use the shirt off his back. What the hell, man?”
Rome laughs and flexes a little, raising his hands above his head to stretch. Brian draws his fingers across that taut skin, pressing firm lines from Rome’s collarbone down rises and dips until he reaches the edges of his pants. Rome, true to expectations, lifts his hips and makes a whining noise that shouldn’t be sexy, but is.
“Man, you’re easy,” Brian laughs. “I haven’t even touched you—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Rome says, curling strong fingers around Brian’s hips. “I ain’t easy, you’re the one who’s easy, just look at the way you swish your little hips, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy? Pretty boy?” Just for that, Brian tweaks a nipple hard, making Rome yelp. “You take a good look in the mirror anytime recently, cuz?”
“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be,” Rome says, and then they’re shoving at each other.
They’re laughing, hands and legs and knees getting everywhere, finding all sorts of combos for the way their bodies can fit. Brian’s smooth on the track and fast in a fight, but like this, with Rome, he’s just a clumsy kid with long, uncoordinated limbs. Rome’s the one with the clever fingers that find all sorts of hot spots on Brian’s body that make him laugh until they move just a little that way and the touch is something completely different.
Brian’s breathing hard when Rome presses him down, skin too hot where they touch.
“Say uncle,” Rome says, grin bright and eyes hungry. His pants are open, a sliver of skin in the crevice of open cloth revealing he’s apparently gone commando, the fucking tease. When Brian doesn’t answer Rome grinds down, and that, right there, is just not fair.
“Uncle!” Brian gasps, pushing his wrists up into the firm pressure of Rome’s palms.
Rome kisses him then, slow and hot and hungry until there’s no more space between them.
There’s no more laughing, either.
There’s just heavy breathing, soft gasps and the slap of skin on skin. There’s just Rome driving Brian out of his mind, because he’s fuckin’ evil, fuckin’ hot, fuckin’ amazing in the sack and Jesus fuck Brian might not mind being the slutty one if it means that Rome will keep doing that thing with his hips that makes Brian damn near lift off the bed at every shove inside.
Rome still has that same grin when Brian comes, the smile only wavering into an open-mouthed pant when it’s his turn. Brian holds him through it, touching and stroking while Rome shakes.
Then, when Rome’s breathing normally again, Brian shoves him on to his back.
“The fuck?” Rome sputters, falling over, eyes wide. Brian’s on top of him in an instant, pinning Rome’s wrists above his head, while Rome looks pissed and well-fucked and reluctantly amused all at the same time.
Yeah, Brian loves that they can do this, that it never really matters who wins because it’s not about the winning.
“That’s for calling me a tease,” Brian says.
Rome rolls his eyes. “Fine, you’re not a tease. You always follow through.”
“Damn straight,” Brian says.
Rome’s mouth curves into a small smile. It’s not a grin, not a prelude to a laugh; just tiny pulls at the edges of his mouth, like an invitation.
Brian lowers himself down to take it.