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.

Comments

[betacuck]

Roman, quite literally, is on his stomach on the couch kicking his feet. What's the point of being part of the 1% if you can't bat your eyelashes at your incredibly handsome boyfriend throwing power around like it's nothing?

He missed this. The sex, the banter, sure, but the fact that John allows Roman to keep his armour up without needing to check in all the time. Over-exposed nerves aren't his deal, never will be--he likes his defense mechanisms. John likes his, too.

The difference is now they know how to cope properly.

Roman's halfway through his second drink when the call ends and John looks at him like that and God, there's something about the way the other uses his voice. He can sense the tension. Roman smirks.

"Biffed it, huh? Am I your sexy consolation prize? Vana White?"

[power_of_yes]

"No," he says, and despite his words, he's not in a hurry. He'll let Roman finish the drink. He sits back, steeples his fingers, and looks past him a moment, over his shoulder to the place where his mind works and whirls and spins. He finds comfort in a solution.

"We had a witness back out." He grins, focusing on Roman's face again. "I'll get him back, don't worry."

And John crosses his legs, like he has all the time in the world, like he isn't eager to take him home, like he can sit here and wait and scheme. No, he has no intentions of harming this man, but there are other, less destructive, ways of getting what he needs.

"I'll call a car."

[betacuck]

'I'll get him back,' John says, and Roman makes a noise of approval in his throat, except--

--John...crosses his legs? Roman squints.

"Okay, so call." Because John is taking his time and it's already driving Roman nuts. Enough that the squinting also means he sits fully up. He's impatient and he's heard the magic words.

"You, me, getting randy in the back of a company car like we're on a reality TV show on way too much cocaine...yes?"

[power_of_yes]

He does. When he's in a nice suit and he's comfortable enough to show off the pristine black socks that show not even a goddamn inch of skin. It's a put together look, it's calculated. He stares at Roman blandly.

"That depends on how fucking annoying you are on the way down," he says with a laugh, picking up the phone, painfully slow. He sends off a text - painfully slowly. It's not a difficult process, but he is making it out to be the most arduous thing he's done in a long time. If Roman's going to leave him aching and wanting, then John's going to make him wait.

"Are you going to sit in my lap and beg me?"

[betacuck]

Oh, he's doing this on purpose. Roman's eyes narrow considerably more. This piece of shit. This fucking asshole.

"Fuck off," he says immediately, scoffing to boot, whole face contorting in disgust. This sucks. The way John's laugh is husky sucks. The way he takes his sweet goddamn time sucks. The way those pants fit his slim legs also sucks. His suggestion? Absolutely sucks.

"C'mon, you fucking hayseed. Corn'll be knee high by the time you finish, let's go. I want to fuck and shower, inter-dimensional traveling takes it outta you."

Except it's working. Because now that crisp, folded and pressed line along John's inseam is seared into Roman's memory, how wonderful those pants fit, how John fucking knows how much Roman wants to jump him. He wants it. They both know that. And he's seconds away from doing exactly what John wants if it'll get him some sort of release.

[power_of_yes]

He fucking loves that look. That petulant, bitchy face that is so used to getting everything he wants. John wants to slap him. He wants to kiss him. He wants to shove his cheek against the wall and fuck him from behind.

It sends a shudder along his spine, one he refuses to show, to imagine all of the things he would do to him right now.

John predicts five seconds. That's how long it would take for Roman to crack, at least in his estimation. John waits four and then stands up, taking his phone and replacing it in his pocket, closing the blinds. He shuts the door to the liquor cabinet, locking it with a key that gets stashed underneath his desk. He opens the blinds that allow the rest of the floor to to see inside of his office, effectively killing any chance of them getting any release right now. He loves it.

"Then you'll love the Holiday Inn I set you up in," he grins, flashing teeth, leading the way out of his office. Only a few people remain this late - his paralegal looks up to tell him goodbye, but changes his mind and turns to walk the other direction instead.

"Get the elevator, would you?"

[betacuck]

John waits in purpose, and as soon as Roman can't take it and is about to grab that tie and mash their lips together John gets up.

Fucking bastard.

He follows, though: in step with him despite not knowing the layout, side by side, fingers grazing the back of his hand completely innocently. He makes some sort of noise, a garbled half grunt to go with his overly dramatic eye roll, and the moment the elevator doors open he has to ask.

"You didn't really set me up at a fucking holiday inn, did you?"

[power_of_yes]

John is all control, all power, all confidence. His fingers tremble a little when he pushes the elevator button.

"I did. Nice room. Great view of the parking lot and the Denny's next door," he says, staring straight ahead, smirking despite trying to stay calm.