John/Roman

[power_of_yes]

John’s apartment in LA is more than anything he ever had in Atlanta or New York. California is an entirely different beast, and while he had been there to visit several times, it’s a whole new world trying to live there and work. He has his money, he has his experience, but he has none of the reputation that comes with the Seed name. Thus, John Seed has flourished. The smooth talking lawyer with charisma for days is a force to be reckoned with. He takes cases as they come, talks people out of prison and takes their money just as easily. He’s able to pay the rent on his own place. He’s able to live.

He never forgot his time on the Barge, though. That, he knows, would be an insult to Iris and the work that she did. He doesn’t expect Roman to join him, though. So when he sees him on the street as he’s simply on his way back from work, he pauses.

Blinks.

Surely fucking not.

“Roman?” he ventures, sidling up closer to him on the crowded street.

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[power_of_yes]

The glass clatters against the rug, but John's so far gone that he isn't thinking about it. He just returns that kiss, the beginning of the end for him. It's been so fucking long since he's kissed anyone; he plays and he toys and he teases, but he hasn't actually been with anyone else since the Barge. This will be his undoing.

One hand snakes around his waist, tugging him closer, demanding now. "How much did you get fucked while I was gone, hm?" he hisses softly, pulling away from the kiss just enough to grin down at him. "How much dick did you suck before you got to graduate?"

[betacuck]

It's the words, it's the grin. Roman feels almost punch drunk from the one-two combination, that grip on his hip an old, familiar weight that's reminding him exactly how much he missed what's his.

And John is his, His with a capital H, and Roman breathes out and offers a sneer, looking right into John's eyes as his hands move from that shirt down to the other's belt, undoing it with complete precision like he'd been dreaming of the moment they parted ways.

"You wanna know if you match up, Jesus Freak?" He challenges. It's a button to push, one that's easy to do since they both know nothing compares. "Maybe you won't like the answer."

[power_of_yes]

"I know I will love the answer. I just want to know how much to take out of your hide," he mutters, making no move to stop him from undoing the belt. Or anything, really. He's closed the blinds and the only things that can see him now are the birds, and they certainly aren't going to gossip.

He traps Roman's face in his hands, fingers pressing into his jaw. "You're such a fucking slut, Roman Roy. But I've missed your evening pictures." That time when Roman texted him directions, told him what to do, and John was spread out in his bed taking those orders so perfectly - fuck. He thinks about that far too often.

[betacuck]

The force behind those fingers, however light the pressure is, sends a thrill to Roman's body as the smug smirk retreats into something else, flitting in between micro expressions as he eases the other's belt open with a satisfying, if subtle sound.

Fuck. He missed this.

"Norton helped me out at first. And Angelo." His hands are dipping down now that he has access, sliding fingers down to brush at John's cock through the fabric of his underwear, reveling in it.

"You'd hate Angelo," he murmurs, leaning into the other's hand on his face, looking directly at John with confidence he never seems to find with anyone else.

[power_of_yes]

John lets him see how much that affects him, how much he's missed this. He closes his eyes a moment, but regains his composure, grinning as he keeps one hand on his jaw and the other around his waist. "Oh? What's his sin?" he mutters, that grin turning a touch warmer.

He rocks his hips forward, almost imperceptibly, encouraging him along.

"Did you let him fuck you?"

[betacuck]

"No," Roman's temporarily distracted by that grin, that stupid mouth on John's stupid face. How good it looks like this, not on the barge but in a corner office with a view.

"I asked Norton and him to fuck and I watched," he explains. His voice is as casual as he can make it, which isn't very when his lips are half-parted and his voice is gravely with excitement, palming John's cock for a few brief squeezes before he finally dips his fingers behind the waistband.

"Angelo's sin? Envy. Slept with Neal, once. Astarion, sort of. Thought of you every time."

[power_of_yes]

"I bet you looked good," he says, voice deep with want. He can't hide it now, his playfully feigned indifference crumbling with each movement of Roman's goddamn fingers.

"I haven't fucked anyone since I came back," he confesses, which is the easiest confession he's ever made.

"Hard to get in the mood when all I see is your fucking face."

[betacuck]

Roman looks surprised at that, hand still cupping the other's cock, a brief moment of panic on his face despite their rather intimate stance together.

"No one?" John sounds smooth when he says it, confident. It's unexpected.

"I thought we had a like--you know, we could..."

[power_of_yes]

His grip gets tighter, a warning to not stop his hand or move it away. "Don't worry. I wanted you to fuck other people. So you'd realize just how fucking good you have it."

And he grins a lecherous grin, dragging his face close to kiss him

[betacuck]

God, that kiss tastes so fucking good. Roman leans up into it, tilting his face to further angle himself, the familiar pressure of John's hands on his jaw nothing but pleasurable. He's temporarily unable to speak, thoughts and words drowned out as he pulls apart just enough to nip at John's lower lip.

He's not going anywhere. His other hand pull sharply on those finely tailored pants, tugging them down for easier access to John.

"I thought of you every time," he admits it only because John did, too. "Thought of your legs wide open for me."

[power_of_yes]

John leans back against his desk, his hand on the table to balance him out. "You and your fantasy of pushing me around. I should bend you over this desk." Not that he's exactly prepared for him here. It wasn't something he was anticipating so closely.

This will have to do.

He lets go of his jaw. There's always a part of him that longs to mark him in some way, even if it's just a bruise, and he's please to see little faint red marks. They'll fade, but he still feels a thrill in his chest.

[betacuck]

Roman's back, John's back, and John's stupid fucking mouth saying those dumb as hell words are causing his heart to sing. Fuck. This is better than anything the barge gave him. This is John. John is his.

"Yeah, but you're not gonna," Roman challenges because it's fun, and he likes the look on the other's face, watching as he slips a hand down John's pants, fingers pushing past the underwear to cup at his cock.

"Not when you're not prepared." Roman moves his hand, smirking as he glides his thumb down the other's shaft, curling his hand to better stroke.

[power_of_yes]

He has a really great retort planned, but that goes right out the window as Roman brushes his finger along sensitive skin.

"Fuck."

That's all he's got before he's kissing him again. He lets it happen, lets his brain short circuit for a moment before he pulls back with a sharp intake of breath.

"You're right. I'm not. So let me suck you off instead."

There's a pain that comes with stopping, and John is aching for it.

[betacuck]

It would be difficult to hide Roman's delight even if he wanted to, but hearing John say 'fuck' like that is basically capitulation in Roman's book. He feels like they're on even ground now.

"Since you know where that yappy mouth goes," he agrees, and while it comes off as flippant he's giving the other one last grab of his cock before taking his hand away to undo his own belt and pants. He slides them down just enough to free his own erection, the cool air pleasant, already hard as he sits right on top of John's desk, smirking. He's just as needy and desperate as John, but this is a completely different level.

It's even more fun.

He picks up the glass of whisky, too, watching the other intently.

[power_of_yes]

From the outside, it might seem like John holds all the power in their relationship, that he is constantly bossing Roman around, telling him what to do, taking control. But that's smoke and mirrors. John is ever eager to please, to shed off the man that makes a thousand decisions in an hour for everyone else. He wants to turn off the pressure behind his eyes.

He keeps his eyes on Roman's as he settles onto his knees, his trousers still open. He puts a hand on his desk and touches his tongue to his cock, just once, before he takes him deeply, eyes closing.

John might not have done this in a while, but it's like riding a bicycle. Some things are never forgotten.

[betacuck]

There's a sight, John on his knees like he's praying, all supplicant and gorgeous and God, Roman's missed him so much. The other's eyes close as those lips wrap around his cock and Roman sighs happily.

The lawyer's mouth is wet and hot and Roman lifts his hips slightly towards him, hand moving down to run through John's hair, gripping it firmly to keep the other in place.

"There we go, good boy," he mumbles, and brings the glass up to take a drink with his other hand. If he's going to enjoy himself, he may as well do it fully.

[power_of_yes]

He worships Roman as dutifully as he does God, though with much more primal enjoyment to it. He raises his eyes to him, just in time to catch the delicately lifted glass, a picture that he's certain he will remember forever.

He slides his hand down the front of his own trousers, unable to stop himself from getting a little relief. Each movement sends a shockwave of pleasure shuddering through him, and he is desperate to relieve some of that.

As a treat, a small treat, he moans in the back of his throat, desperate to hear that approval in his voice again. He lives for it.

[betacuck]

That familiar sensation of John's stubble between his thighs, that familiar mouth, the one he missed so much, the little moan that sends a surge of pleasure through him as the sound moves through his cock and up his spine--Roman's pathetic enough it might not take him that long but he wants to savour this, savour John like this, all beauty and supplication in one.

The hand on the other's short hair tightens in a silent a warning for the other not to pull away so he moves his hips forward, arching them so he can push into John's wet mouth further, humming in approval as he loses himself in the sensation.

"I fucking missed this," he confesses, whispered low as he makes it a point to take another sip from his glass as John continues to service him.

[power_of_yes]

The taste of him, so sharp and raw, chokes John in the sweetest way. He grips him tighter with one hand, fingers digging into the fabric of Roman's trousers. They're so fucking fine that John is almost distracted by trying to determine who he's wearing.

Then Roman tugs on the short hair above his neck and he gasps around his cock, quickly taking him deeper again. Fuck you, he thinks to himself, letting that familiar mix of love and annoyance wash through him. He lets his tongue wrap around him, not slowing, already aching for more.

He's missed this, too. More than he can express with words. So. He expresses it in this way.

[betacuck]

It's the excitement, it's the ache of missing John--more than that mouth on his cock, more than looking down and seeing that stupid smirk wiped away because of how he's positioned between his legs--and Roman can't help the small, needy little moan in the back of his throat as the other continues, supplicant only to him.

"Almost," he urges, encouraging the other through gritted teeth, if only because he doesn't want to give John the satisfaction of turning into a panting mess, needy mess. Not yet. That will come later, when they're alone in wherever John's penthouse currently is.

[power_of_yes]

Almost is such a filthy word in itself. It fills him with anticipation, tongue stroking along underneath his cock, as if he could will him into it. He can tell that he's tense, though, and the satisfaction of him coming undone, even in such a small way, sends a thrill of heat through him.

His phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket and he moans a little at the mere suggestion of getting caught. It'll go to voicemail, he'll call them back eventually, but what if he didn't? What if he answered it and the other person could hear him moaning in the back of his throat, hear Roman's sharp breaths.

[betacuck]

That moan makes Roman tense, the noise sending shivers through his whole body, sensation more than pleasant--it's just enough to push him so, so close to the end.

John's a fucking asshole. He knows this, John knows this, and John knows just the right way to make Roman whimper even though he's the one that holds the power in this situation.

"Fuck," he breathes, and it's half a swear at John's whorish mouth than it is a signal he's going to come--he pushes his ups up, into John, and with swiftness hes' confidently moving both hands on either side of John's head to force him there and keep him from moving away. If John is going to send him almost immediately into a tailspin--and Roman's desperate, so fucking desperate around Seed, it's pathetic, and that streak of patheticness makes it hotter--than he can be a good boy and swallow.

[power_of_yes]

He had no intention of pulling away. He goes all out for Roman, every single time, and here, on his knees, he's no different. He straightens up, choking and gagging in a way that's half real, half performance, all for Roman, his fingers tightening on the loose fabric of his trousers. He digs his hands in, yanking his head back and out of the way, the taste of him on his tongue and all the way back to his throat.

He laughs, deep in his chest, ducking his head and brushing his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You can't last a whole goddamn minute," he grins, knowing full well it had been over. "You did miss me." He sits back on his heels, not moving from the floor just yet.

[betacuck]

If he's being honest it's the performance that sets him over--those fingers, those noises, that beard against his thighs, it's a perfect, heady mix that's only improved by that pleased laugh and, somehow, the way John also dismisses him almost immediately after.

Yes, he is pathetic. He likes when John pulls that shit. Especially because it's followed by an astute observation: Roman has missed John.

Roman knocks back most of the drink, looking down at the other on his knees, looking at how the office lighting somehow seems to fit John's stupidly perfect blue eyes. His own face is flushed, his ears pink, his cock spent, and there's an undercurrent of what Roman can only describe as happiness spinning through him.

So Roman takes the glass with a few more sips in it, holds it in one hand and putting it down and pressing it to John's lips, and tilts it up to guide him to drink the rest.

Drink, take this, this cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you. Yadda yadda yadda. It's nice to see John between his legs like this. It's why he takes his time before speaking again. His lips are pulled into a fascinated smile.

"If I did miss you, you gonna tell anyone?"

[power_of_yes]

John parts his lips, taking in a drop or two. His first taste of alcohol since before leaving the Barge, but it doesn't count. The blood of Christ and all that. He pushes away, touching his tongue to his top lip, then stands.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he assures him. "But they'll see it, won't they? The way you hang on my every goddamn word. I'm going to make you my kept bitch and you're going to thank me for it."

His grin is feral, fearless, perfect, and he takes Roman's chin in his fingers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He steps in close, deliberately invading his space, his hip pressed against Roman's. It's as intimate as he's been, right here close to him.