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The first time was after a few shared drinks. It was a celebratory hour, with Roman having brought down a particularly difficult rival, afterwards inviting Victor (after he'd washed the blood off his hands, of course), to sit with him in private; a rare privilege. So now the two of them sat in the empty club, the only sound their words and their laugher. It was close to three AM, and in that moment, Victor felt as though they were the only two people in the world. They were sitting in one of the club’s booth, on the same side, rather than across from one another, and Roman was sitting close to him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Victor was incredibly aware of the soft velvet of Roman’s suit against his bare upper arm, and under that; the heat of his skin seeping through the material.  

He pressed into the contact just a bit, listening as Roman told some exaggerated story of his own achievements. If Victor were to pick a single word to describe Roman it would be excessive ; everything about the man, from the way he dressed to the way he spoke and down to his very movements was perfectly tailored so as to demand attention. This interaction was no different. Roman spoke with his hands, leaned towards him; smiled wide enough that something twisted in Victor’s chest, a deep want he'd felt since first meeting the man.

Roman demanded attention from those around him, but rarely offered it in return. To have that attention directed onto you was a privilege which belonged to a select few. It was because of this that, in this moment, when he found himself as the centre of Roman’s attention, Victor couldn’t help but preen a bit, leaning into each touch and gesture.

And then Roman casually placed a hand on his thigh and for half a second Victor’s brain stopped working. He had known Roman was interested in men, of course he was, he had eyes for god’s sake, but he’d been uncertain as to whether that attraction extended to him. It didn’t help that Roman flirted with every person he laid eyes on regardless of gender. However he’d never had a clear answer until this moment, until the heat of Roman’s hand, about four inches above his knee, told him everything he needed to know. 

Victor met Roman’s eye curiously, his eyebrows rising just slightly at the gesture. “Sir?” 

Roman’s smile only grew wider at the acknowledgement. “It’s a celebration, Mr. Zsasz, you could benefit from loosening up a bit.”  He was close to Victor’s ear, breath tickling his neck as he spoke. Victor shuddered. It was taking every ounce of composure he had not to press Roman down onto the bench and have his way with him then and there. But that wasn’t their game. 

Instead he leaned his head back just a bit, his arms thrown over the back of the booth, exposing a little more of his neck as he took a slow pull from his cigarette. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions, sir.”

Roman scoffed. “I’ve wanted you since I hired you, Zsasz.” He leaned closer, his nose brushing just under Victor’s ear, then his lips. “I just needed to make sure you were interested.” 

Victor finally moved, his hand moving to the back of Roman's neck, pulling him back so that their gazes locked, Roman's black lined eyes were hungry when they met his. “I’m interested .”

Roman was on him like lightning after that, pulling him close so their lips met. Victor kissed him back, caught Roman’s lip between his teeth a bit harder than he should have. Roman responded by climbing into his lap, rolling his hips down and creating a delicious friction between them. 

His hands found Roman’s hips then, gripping them roughly, pulled him closer. Roman's nails bit into his shoulders, and Victor slid one hand up to tangle in his boss' hair. He tugged at it, feeling brave, and Roman responded with a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a whine, his head tipping back, pliable beneath Victor’s touch. Victor took the opportunity to move his lips to Roman’s neck, taking the small gasps and moans he received as encouragement. He nipped at Roman’s throat and felt him stiffen just a bit. 

“No marks.” He growled.

“Apologies, sir.” Victor ran his tongue over the other man’s neck, soothing the bite and drawing another moan out of him. He moved his hands up to Roman's chest, pushing the blazer off his shoulders. It started to fall to the floor but Roman caught it, pausing to lay it across the bench seat of the booth. 

“It’s Armani.” He snapped when Victor raised an eyebrow at him. Victor just shook his head, pulling Roman in for another kiss. Roman groaned into his mouth, his own hands finding the button of Victor’s shirt, working them open. Once enough skin had been exposed that he was satisfied, Roman sat back, his eyes trailing over Victor’s bare chest, gloved hands following immediately after, pressing running slowly over the scars. “I love these, you know?”

“What’s that?”

“These marks. I love knowing what you’re capable of, love seeing it on your skin.” A pause, sentence punctuated by a devious smile. “How many of these were for me?” 

“Fifteen so far.” He bared his teeth in a grin. “But it’s only been two months, we’ve got time for more.”

“So we do.” Roman dug his fingertips in then, raking one hand down Victor’s chest, leaving red lines in his wake. He leaned close, nipping at Victor’s ear before murmuring against his skin. “I want you to fuck me, Mr. Zsasz. Will you do that for me?”

He punctuated the sentence by grinding his hips down and Victor couldn’t help the groan that escaped him in response. He pulled Roman’s hair again, causing him to gasp, high and needy, and Victor was quickly finding he couldn’t get enough of that sound. “Yes, sir.” 

A bit of fumbling found their position rearranged with Victor laying on his back on the bench of the booth, and Roman straddling his hips, grinning down at him in a way that seemed almost feral. He ground down against Victor, drawing a low groan from his lips. 

Roman leaned close, so that their lips brushed, his hand lowering Victor’s fly before slipping down to grip him through his boxers. “I’m going to ride you until you can’t remember anything but my name. Is that alright with you?”

“Fuck.” Victor groaned, leaning up to catch Roman’s lip between his teeth. He bit down hard enough to taste blood but Roman didn’t pull away. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” 

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find that Roman kept a packet of lube and some condoms in the pocket of his suit jacket. Maybe he’d been planning this from the start, regardless, Victor wasn't complaining. They moved quickly after that, Victor opening Roman with his fingers a bit messily before Roman finally sunk down onto him. From an outside perspective, Victor was sure they looked ridiculous; him nearly fully dressed, with Roman clad in only a dress-shirt straddling him in the middle of an empty club. However, at the moment he couldn’t think of much besides the slick, tight heat of Roman as he rode him hard and fast, clawing at his chest and shoulders hard enough to bruise.

It was quiet in the club now, quieter than usual, and the sounds they made seemed to echo off the walls, desperate groans and the slapping of skin against skin replacing the usual cacophony. Roman came first, and Victor was impressed with himself for holding out so long against his boss’ relentless efforts. It was less than a minute after Roman that he came, and Roman leaned down, kissing Victor’s open mouth, tongue sliding across the roof of his mouth. 

They laid there for a few moments after, catching their breath, and Roman smiled down at him, he was all teeth for a moment. “You’re so good to me.” A thumb ran over his lips and Victor caught it between his lips, pulling it into his mouth. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Victor inhaled sharply at that. “Do you want me to be?”

“Obviously.” 

“Then yes.”

“Good.” He climbed off Victor’s lap, pulling his slacks back on and rebuttoning his shirt. “I should warn you though,” he caught Victor’s collar, pulling him close again. “I’m very possessive of my things.”

Victor smiled, his own hand moving up Roman’s chest, pausing over his throat. “As am I.”