[ It's familiar when he visits someon someone like this now, when he's half a mess and pacing for a solid 5 minutes before he actually plucks up the courage to knock. Familiar in a bad way, and this time it's not Norton or John Seed, which means in a weird sort of way that the dread is even worse. Like he has to make an effort or something. Like it has to count.
He'd almost rather board meetings.
The moment the door opens Roman pushes in, dressed his usual business wear with the sleeves rolled up, collar undone. Hair's not slicked back like he usually keeps it at work or during the day, bangs half flopping in his face instead. ]
Hiya.
[ He turns on his heel to spin to face Dorian again, gives the other a effeminate half wave, and proceeds to take a good hard look at Dorian's cabin to try to suss out the decorating. ]
[ Dorian's cabin is a mish-mash of styles. The bones are an older, Victorian style mansion. But it's been modernized with electric lighting, heating, all the twenty-first century works to make a building habitable. The furniture is old and lived in but still expensive. And Dorian is wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a polo shirt, top few buttons unbuttoned.
He's in the kitchen, mixing up some gin and tonics, as he hears Roman enter. ]
Door to the left! [ he hollers, when he hears the door open. Because Dorian's main cabin door opens to a small hallway, of which multiple doors and multiple rooms branch out of. When he spots Roman, Dorian grins. ]
Gin and tonic to start things off. We can progress to other alcohol once we've finished these.
[ It's nice. It's a bit old money for Roman's tastes, but ultimately he's not the kind of guy to care too much about interior design. Alpha male and all that bullshit, or whatever. He does appreciate that it's just busy enough that he always has something to look at in any given moment: a nice distraction from his current bundle of nerves. ]
You would drink gin, you limey bastard. [ It's said with a grin and a giggle, appreciative of any form of booze, really. Once the glass is in his hand he makes his way to the closest surface, perching on the arm of a chair like a small bird. ]
So, uh. You know what you were saying about kissing and telling?
Limey bastard and proud of it, [ he happily chirps, handing over the glass. Dorian takes one for himself and walks over towards Roman, actually sitting down in a chair like a normal person.
The question, though, causes him to raise an eyebrow. ]
About how I said that I was keeping mum about whose heart I broke in my ill-ventured attempt at polyamory? Yep. Still not telling you, by the way.
[ Roman's eyes roll, comical and exaggerated, like he's insulted Dorian would even dare think he'd ask= such a thing despite the fact that he absolutely would and has. ]
I don't care about that, that's whatever, I just mean like maybe, theoretically, if I were to maybe ask you about, you know, shit like, uh, that sort of stuff, that obviously 'cause you're pretty much the second sluttiest in the annual barge hussy race, ya whore--or were--uh--just that maybe you'd keep your mouth shut if I were to, like.... Say...shit...?
[ He's practically forcing himself to spit the words out, but sure, he's unbothered. See how uncaring he is? He's not even looking at Dorian because he's so uninterested, fidgeting with the hand that isn't holding the glass of gin, lips pursed and cheeks puffed without actually exhaling. ]
[ Oh buddy. Oh kiddo. Roman's talking all the way around what he wants to talk about. Still, Dorian's fluent enough in Roman to understand what he's putting down. He takes an idle sip of his gin before, ]
One, I'm still the second sluttiest in the annual Barge hussy race, you can't take that away from me. Two, if there's something you want to talk about, I can keep it a secret. Nothing you say will leave this room.
[ Roman's response is a pained groan, face twisted into a look like, for a brief moment, he might be sick. Remedying it with nearly half of his drink seems to help. At least this way the wince is because it's gin and not because he's feeling like a piece of shit and, heaven forbid, vulnerable. ]
I can fuck. [ Hmm. No. that sounds too defensive, too immediate. Roman glances at Dorian, half sneering and half frowning. ] I have fucked. I want to fuck. I'm Mr. fuckin'... fucky-fuck, prowling the streets with my big dick and swinging it around like a club to drag back hot women to my cave. [ A nervous titter. ] But I don't... Shit. I just-- [ He's getting frustrated with himself, hand moving to his face, pushing at his hair before his whole body tenses up and pulls into an elaborate shrug, more of a spasm than an actual gesture. ]
[ He wants to fuck Norton. But based on this, on how Roman's pointing out that he has fucked, that he's totally fine fucking, things are good and he is fine, Dorian idly wonders if though Roman has fucked, he hasn't fucked men.
He takes a sip of his drink, thinking things over before he asks, ]
[ Dorian's doing that thing, the one where he's nice and non-judgemental and listening and even if that's what Roman wants and needs, it feels weird. He twists his body to set his drink down, shifting so he's fully perching. Sorry, Dorian, your couch has shoes on it. At least they're Tom Fords. ]
It just has to be, like. Uh. A certain way? And with John it was--well, I mean that was different, and it's actually--God, fuck, you know what? Can I actually have another drink?
[ Roman laughs again, high and effeminate and in complete agreement. ]
Yeah. Yeah, he's great. I mean, no, he's horrible and he looks like he listens to an acoustic cover of Firework by Katy Perry whenever he gets sad, but yeah, it's not--God. This is stupid. Okay. Um.
We've tried. I've tried, and then I kinda just... uh. Left before anything happened.
[ his brows knit, tips of his ears bright red. He can't look Dorian in the eye.]
It has to be, like, specific and shit? John Seed got it. But that was different. And I don't know how to like...
[ he gestures vaguely, grunting, and picks up the drink, shoulders hunched in complete defeat. ]
Ask, or whatever. He's not doing anything wrong or bad--fuck. God. Fuck you.
[ Dorian nods, trying to mentally interpret what Roman's not really saying. Roman has a kink and doesn't know how to ask about the kink? That's what it's sounding like. Dorian frowns for a moment, thinking things over, before pointing out, ]
I like being bit. It doesn't matter where, though I've a fondness for the neck. Do you know how I bring it up with people? I ask them 'would you mind biting me?'
[ He shrugs before, ] If they're a dick about it, then they weren't worth my time to begin with.
[ Dorian's close enough that it all just sort of bubbles up, Roman flailing his arms in a bird-like spasm as if it will somehow relieve how frustrated he's making himself. It's hard to communicate something you want when you don't necessarily know what that is. ]
It has to be wrong. [ Roman's mouth is going a mile a minute--more than usual--and he twists his whole body to actually face Dorian as he speaks. ] It's not--it's fucking--it's just that if I ask then it's not wrong. The only person I really got that from is Gerri back home, and she's not here. But I want Norton. He's attractive and I don't know why. But I can't--I just--I freak out because it it's too... It's not wrong enough? And I don't know what the fuck to do about it, so I just jerk off to the porno he's in and give him a dick pic every once in a while.
[ Dorian looks at Roman. He frowns slightly, thinking before he points out, ]
I also like it when people cuddle me.
Humans are multifaceted. Even if you like the most boring sex ever, if you enjoy it missionary style with the lights off, if you're doing it with someone you love, it doesn't matter.
[ Okay, so this is now a feelings talk, and it's a feelings talk that Roman initiated, which is fucking spooky. He's also doing a fantastically shit job and trying to explain himself, which is both frustrating and exactly what he expected. He groans. ]
Yeah--yeah, yeah, I get that. I get that. But I can't just knock on his door and go "hey, hi, how are you, I don't know what exactly I want but the last thing that really worked for me was my General Council sending me to her bathroom so I could jerk off while she called me pathetic because there's something wrong with me and it needs to feel like I'm not supposed to be doing it, could you pass the crumpets, ol' chap?'"
[ Roman, in turn, gives Dorian a completely miserable look. Shoulders hunched, gaze slightly unfocused. Sometime during his rant he'd almost slid entirely down the couch. ]
I've tried. And then I just start thinking that he's going to know that I know there's something wrong with me, and it's not just a joke, and that's...
[ This is weird. This is foreign. Roman would not be admitting this to someone under any other normal circumstances, but Dorian's listening and, more importantly, not being a dick about it. ]
[ This is a bit weird. And Dorian can tell that Roman's feeling a little awkward about this. So he makes it a point to definitely not be a dick about this as he looks over at Roman. ]
Honestly? I'd say that admitting you get off on something unconventional makes you strong. [ He lets out a little scoff before pointing out, ] Do you know how many people go through life with boring heterosexual vanilla sex just because they're too scared to say 'I like it when you step on me'? Thousands.
The fact that you're even recognizing the fact that you get off on secrecy and a slight humiliation kink makes you stronger and more self-aware than half the idiots in the world.
[ Roman's response is a groan that comes across half like he might throw up and half like he's whining, which is about 50/50 for what he's feeling at the moment. He gets what dorian's saying--and maybe he's right. It makes sense, logically, and Dorian's definitely the person that knows and trusts about this shit or he wouldn't have ambushed him about it out of the blue. Roman isn't exactly a wilting flower, it's the intimacy aspect that's completely foreign to him.
Roman presses his lips into a thin line and brings his hand up to rub at his face, suddenly exhausted. He doesn't even have the energy to threaten to cut Dorian's dick off if he talks about any of this. After a brief beat as he mulls it over, he speaks up again. ]
Time, [ Dorian shrugs. ] Cultivating the idea that I'm a shameless hedonist, so nobody would judge me when I made those sorts of requests. And knowing right away what my limits were.
Make yourself the clown before they find out you're the joke.
[ That's something he can relate to, and hell, maybe that's why he came to Dorian in the first place without too much thought into it. Like senses like, and Dorian seems to possibly be the same type that he is, dressed in armor tailor made to make it look like he never cares.
Or maybe Roman's projecting. He drains the second glass, unable to look at Dorian as he mumbles words that are still somewhat foreign to him. ]
That's one way of putting it, [ Dorian shrugs. ] Or craft your reputation in a way that people treat you the way you want them to treat you.
[ Want to give off the impression that you're an immortal hedonist who doesn't care about serious things and goes from fling to fling? Act that way, baby.
The 'thank you' gets a wry smile from Dorian. He quickly tamps that down before, ]
[ Roman's brows lift, expression grateful even if his words aren't. ]
I want to get black out drunk. This whole conversation was fucking bullshit--and I still stand by killing you if you tell anyone, by the way. I'll sic my attack cowboy after you, and he'll shoot you in the dick. That motherfucker never misses.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
He'd almost rather board meetings.
The moment the door opens Roman pushes in, dressed his usual business wear with the sleeves rolled up, collar undone. Hair's not slicked back like he usually keeps it at work or during the day, bangs half flopping in his face instead. ]
Hiya.
[ He turns on his heel to spin to face Dorian again, gives the other a effeminate half wave, and proceeds to take a good hard look at Dorian's cabin to try to suss out the decorating. ]
Re: action;
He's in the kitchen, mixing up some gin and tonics, as he hears Roman enter. ]
Door to the left! [ he hollers, when he hears the door open. Because Dorian's main cabin door opens to a small hallway, of which multiple doors and multiple rooms branch out of. When he spots Roman, Dorian grins. ]
Gin and tonic to start things off. We can progress to other alcohol once we've finished these.
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You would drink gin, you limey bastard. [ It's said with a grin and a giggle, appreciative of any form of booze, really. Once the glass is in his hand he makes his way to the closest surface, perching on the arm of a chair like a small bird. ]
So, uh. You know what you were saying about kissing and telling?
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The question, though, causes him to raise an eyebrow. ]
About how I said that I was keeping mum about whose heart I broke in my ill-ventured attempt at polyamory? Yep. Still not telling you, by the way.
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I don't care about that, that's whatever, I just mean like maybe, theoretically, if I were to maybe ask you about, you know, shit like, uh, that sort of stuff, that obviously 'cause you're pretty much the second sluttiest in the annual barge hussy race, ya whore--or were--uh--just that maybe you'd keep your mouth shut if I were to, like.... Say...shit...?
[ He's practically forcing himself to spit the words out, but sure, he's unbothered. See how uncaring he is? He's not even looking at Dorian because he's so uninterested, fidgeting with the hand that isn't holding the glass of gin, lips pursed and cheeks puffed without actually exhaling. ]
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One, I'm still the second sluttiest in the annual Barge hussy race, you can't take that away from me. Two, if there's something you want to talk about, I can keep it a secret. Nothing you say will leave this room.
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I can fuck. [ Hmm. No. that sounds too defensive, too immediate. Roman glances at Dorian, half sneering and half frowning. ] I have fucked. I want to fuck. I'm Mr. fuckin'... fucky-fuck, prowling the streets with my big dick and swinging it around like a club to drag back hot women to my cave. [ A nervous titter. ] But I don't... Shit. I just-- [ He's getting frustrated with himself, hand moving to his face, pushing at his hair before his whole body tenses up and pulls into an elaborate shrug, more of a spasm than an actual gesture. ]
I want to fuck Norton.
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He takes a sip of his drink, thinking things over before he asks, ]
So. Why haven't you?
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It just has to be, like. Uh. A certain way? And with John it was--well, I mean that was different, and it's actually--God, fuck, you know what? Can I actually have another drink?
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Norton's...more easy-going than people realize. However you think it is, it might not be that way.
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Yeah. Yeah, he's great. I mean, no, he's horrible and he looks like he listens to an acoustic cover of Firework by Katy Perry whenever he gets sad, but yeah, it's not--God. This is stupid. Okay. Um.
We've tried. I've tried, and then I kinda just... uh. Left before anything happened.
[ his brows knit, tips of his ears bright red. He can't look Dorian in the eye.]
It has to be, like, specific and shit? John Seed got it. But that was different. And I don't know how to like...
[ he gestures vaguely, grunting, and picks up the drink, shoulders hunched in complete defeat. ]
Ask, or whatever. He's not doing anything wrong or bad--fuck. God. Fuck you.
no subject
I like being bit. It doesn't matter where, though I've a fondness for the neck. Do you know how I bring it up with people? I ask them 'would you mind biting me?'
[ He shrugs before, ] If they're a dick about it, then they weren't worth my time to begin with.
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It has to be wrong. [ Roman's mouth is going a mile a minute--more than usual--and he twists his whole body to actually face Dorian as he speaks. ] It's not--it's fucking--it's just that if I ask then it's not wrong. The only person I really got that from is Gerri back home, and she's not here. But I want Norton. He's attractive and I don't know why. But I can't--I just--I freak out because it it's too... It's not wrong enough? And I don't know what the fuck to do about it, so I just jerk off to the porno he's in and give him a dick pic every once in a while.
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I also like it when people cuddle me.
Humans are multifaceted. Even if you like the most boring sex ever, if you enjoy it missionary style with the lights off, if you're doing it with someone you love, it doesn't matter.
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Yeah--yeah, yeah, I get that. I get that. But I can't just knock on his door and go "hey, hi, how are you, I don't know what exactly I want but the last thing that really worked for me was my General Council sending me to her bathroom so I could jerk off while she called me pathetic because there's something wrong with me and it needs to feel like I'm not supposed to be doing it, could you pass the crumpets, ol' chap?'"
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Roman, you can absolutely knock on his door and say all that.
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I've tried. And then I just start thinking that he's going to know that I know there's something wrong with me, and it's not just a joke, and that's...
[ This is weird. This is foreign. Roman would not be admitting this to someone under any other normal circumstances, but Dorian's listening and, more importantly, not being a dick about it. ]
That means I'm weak, I guess? And he'll know it.
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Honestly? I'd say that admitting you get off on something unconventional makes you strong. [ He lets out a little scoff before pointing out, ] Do you know how many people go through life with boring heterosexual vanilla sex just because they're too scared to say 'I like it when you step on me'? Thousands.
The fact that you're even recognizing the fact that you get off on secrecy and a slight humiliation kink makes you stronger and more self-aware than half the idiots in the world.
no subject
Roman presses his lips into a thin line and brings his hand up to rub at his face, suddenly exhausted. He doesn't even have the energy to threaten to cut Dorian's dick off if he talks about any of this. After a brief beat as he mulls it over, he speaks up again. ]
How did you figure this shit out?
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[ That's something he can relate to, and hell, maybe that's why he came to Dorian in the first place without too much thought into it. Like senses like, and Dorian seems to possibly be the same type that he is, dressed in armor tailor made to make it look like he never cares.
Or maybe Roman's projecting. He drains the second glass, unable to look at Dorian as he mumbles words that are still somewhat foreign to him. ]
Thank you.
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[ Want to give off the impression that you're an immortal hedonist who doesn't care about serious things and goes from fling to fling? Act that way, baby.
The 'thank you' gets a wry smile from Dorian. He quickly tamps that down before, ]
You're welcome. Want another drink?
[ Because he suspects that might be the case. ]
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I want to get black out drunk. This whole conversation was fucking bullshit--and I still stand by killing you if you tell anyone, by the way. I'll sic my attack cowboy after you, and he'll shoot you in the dick. That motherfucker never misses.
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