[ 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.
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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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no subject
[ 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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject