This isn't phone sex, you fuck, I'm being serious! Am I going to have to worry you'll do this with anyone you come across? Do I have to fucking lock you up?
How else am I supposed to take a phone call where you start threatening me and callin' me a slut? Geez, boss, it's like you're trying to get me on a public indecency charge. I'm thinkin' of fixing this problem in the middle of the damn train.
[He lowers his voice, purring into the phone.] You'd have to catch me first if you wanted to do that.
Public indecency? Here? They'd probably give you a medal for jerking it on the train. [Quickly, he adds--] Not that you should! I don't want you getting off to this. You're in fucking trouble, and not the good kind.
Keep talkin' like that and I won't need a hand to help me finish, boss. [Victor presses his palm down against the small rise in his jeans.] How much trouble am I in?
[It takes him another hour and a half, blue balls and all, to reach "home." Not his fault the transportation system around here is about as speedy as Gotham evening traffic. Doubts Roman's rage has gotten any less fiery in the time it's taken him to come waltzing through the door. At least, that's what he's hoping when he steps into their apartment.]
[Roman stews more and more the longer it takes Zsasz to arrive. By the time he does, Victor will walk in on a mess in Dinah's apartment: shattered glass, overturned tables and chairs, knife marks in the walls. A knife flies with surprising precision and lodges in the doorframe right next to Victor's head -- Roman's had ample time to practice, though he's still no knife-throwing legend. Just a very angry manbaby with a pocket knife and someone else's property to destroy.]
Zsasz! [His eyes are wide and bloodshot, and he's wearing a silk robe that bunches around his legs as he storms over to him.] Get the fuck in here, now!
[He grabs Victor's arm and pulls him all the way inside with one hard yank, slamming the door shut behind him.]
[The destruction of the apartment, Roman's current state, the knife still twitching in the doorframe next to his head while Roman snarls at him should really make anyone turn tail and run. The equivalent would be getting charged by a wild, rabid mountain lion in the middle of the wilderness with miles of nothing around. Instinct says to get the fuck out of the way.
Course, Zsasz's instincts are perpetually in an "out of order" state complete with caution tape locking that door shut in his brain. Because he, an idiot, straightens up when Roman snatches his wrist and pulls him deeper into danger.
He's been hard the entire time since the phone call. Now he's in very real danger of finishing before the fun even starts.]
[Roman snarls, lets go of Victor's wrist, and slaps him across the face. Then he backhands him across the other cheek, just to be even.]
You're going to stand there and listen to me, and you're gonna listen good. [He speaks slowly and deliberately, offset by his tomato-red face.] I gave you one order. To tell me before you sleep around. And what did you do, not even a week after I told you? You're off letting people suck on your tits like you're a damn dairy cow! Explain that to me, Victor. Explain what sort of sense that makes in your addled, rotting fucking mind, because I can't for the life of me figure it out.
[It's a quick turn-turn of his head from the sudden impact to both cheeks. He sees it coming, knows it's coming from the telegraphed rage that screams for violence, but he does nothing. Since he does deserve it. He knows he does. So does Roman.
And he waits for Roman to snarl at him, face turning red from the impact of the hit, and nodding along.]
Because he helped me out and I wanted to be even. I knew it would make you mad. Two birds.
Even, don't give me that crap. You only did it to piss me off. Well, guess what? It fucking worked.
[Roman's hand shoots out, grabbing Victor around the throat and squeezing. He tilts Victor's head back, getting close, up in his face until their noses are touching.]
I didn't lose you for three fucking months to have you fuck off the second you get back. I'd say I'll kill you again, but you'd only like that, you fucking perverted freak.
[He can't help it. The threat the hand squeezing hard around his throat, Victor's eyes roll back and he lets out a low, wanton moan. He is a fucking freak. A real mess of a human being. Doesn't even deserve the title.]
[Roman looks over Victor's face, the way his pupils dilate and his voice gets huskier. He has the urge to smash their faces together, claim those plush lips in a kiss, but he holds back. That would just make Victor feel happier.]
You still don't even remember when I did it the first time, do you? ...Don't remember when you killed me either, I'm sure you'll say. Are you just trying to get out of taking responsibility for the shit you did? Tell me, Victor!
[Roman's free hand comes up to his own throat, tracing over the horizontal scar there.]
Do you think I just have this because I wanted us to match? You tied me to a chair and slit my throat. Because this place "got in your head." Is it in your head now, Victor? Is that why you're doing this to me?
[That is actually exactly what he thought had happened. He'd been wanting to mark Roman for ages, to give him a taste of how it feels to keep a record of the lives he's taken. It wasn't supposed to-
He actually looks hurt, surprised, fucking ashamed.]
[Good. Roman likes that look in his eyes. Wants to see it, to feel it, to revel in it. He'll be holding that murder over Victor's head for the rest of both of their lives, whether he remembers it or not. You don't get killed by your boyfriend of 15 years and not retain a little bit of a grudge.]
You'll remember. And then you can apologize for it again. [He shoves Victor back with a huff, slamming him against the door by his throat.] But today, you need to focus on apologizing for spreading your legs for anyone who comes around asking for it. Did you sleep with him, Victor? Did you give it up for him the second he got his filthy fucking mouth on you?
[He's not sure he wants to remember that. If it comes to death, Victor wants to go before Roman. It's his job to protect Roman, what the fuck would he do without him? There is no point in anything without Roman there to guide him through this bullshit called "life."
Victor blinks jarred back into the present, the apparent "actual" issue.]
He's into pussy, boss, last I check I don't got that.
[Roman looks over Victor's face for any sign of falsehood. He looks like he's telling the truth, but it doesn't reassure Roman any. Victor is a good liar. And, the longer he stares at that face, with his pouty dick-sucking lips and pretty dark eyes, the more he worries about what Victor has been doing that hour and a half it took him to get back.]
...Take off your pants. [He pulls Victor by the throat just to slam his head back into the wall.] Now.
[The sudden lightheadedness and vertigo has little to do with the fact he’s running on barely any air and several slams of his head in a wall. He watches Roman, sees him take stock of his face and then bark the order.
Careful, without looking away, Victor pulls off his pants as ordered. Wetting his lips, Victor hesitates when they fall to his ankles, kicking them off. He’s gone commando because he always does.]
[Roman says nothing. He looks down at Victor, at his useless cock, at the mess of scars running up and down his pale legs. He runs a bare hand up one of them, dipping it down under his balls.
Roughly and without warning, he shoves one finger inside Victor, searching for any hint of moisture, lube or cum. He wriggles it around hard and erratic, trying to make it as uncomfortable as possible.]
[Victor sucks in a sharp breath, shuddering at the light touch to his balls. The sudden shove, the burn and the scrap of dry skin against his inner balls makes his cock twitch.
Head falling back he whines softly, planting his hands behind him. Roman’s search provides no evidence. Apparently, their trust didn’t involve penetration to Victor’s hole.]
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Next time you call for phone sex, ask me if I'm in a private space first.
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[He lowers his voice, purring into the phone.] You'd have to catch me first if you wanted to do that.
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Public indecency? Here? They'd probably give you a medal for jerking it on the train. [Quickly, he adds--] Not that you should! I don't want you getting off to this. You're in fucking trouble, and not the good kind.
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[Okay, that might be a little dramatic. But what is Roman if not a dramatic bitch?]
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[He just can’t stop poking the bear.]
You sound so good when you’re furious. Fuckin’ powerful.
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[And with that, Roman huffs and hangs up.]
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[It takes him another hour and a half, blue balls and all, to reach "home." Not his fault the transportation system around here is about as speedy as Gotham evening traffic. Doubts Roman's rage has gotten any less fiery in the time it's taken him to come waltzing through the door. At least, that's what he's hoping when he steps into their apartment.]
Boss?
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Zsasz! [His eyes are wide and bloodshot, and he's wearing a silk robe that bunches around his legs as he storms over to him.] Get the fuck in here, now!
[He grabs Victor's arm and pulls him all the way inside with one hard yank, slamming the door shut behind him.]
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Course, Zsasz's instincts are perpetually in an "out of order" state complete with caution tape locking that door shut in his brain. Because he, an idiot, straightens up when Roman snatches his wrist and pulls him deeper into danger.
He's been hard the entire time since the phone call. Now he's in very real danger of finishing before the fun even starts.]
Redecorating?
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[Roman snarls, lets go of Victor's wrist, and slaps him across the face. Then he backhands him across the other cheek, just to be even.]
You're going to stand there and listen to me, and you're gonna listen good. [He speaks slowly and deliberately, offset by his tomato-red face.] I gave you one order. To tell me before you sleep around. And what did you do, not even a week after I told you? You're off letting people suck on your tits like you're a damn dairy cow! Explain that to me, Victor. Explain what sort of sense that makes in your addled, rotting fucking mind, because I can't for the life of me figure it out.
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And he waits for Roman to snarl at him, face turning red from the impact of the hit, and nodding along.]
Because he helped me out and I wanted to be even. I knew it would make you mad. Two birds.
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[Roman's hand shoots out, grabbing Victor around the throat and squeezing. He tilts Victor's head back, getting close, up in his face until their noses are touching.]
I didn't lose you for three fucking months to have you fuck off the second you get back. I'd say I'll kill you again, but you'd only like that, you fucking perverted freak.
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Y-Yeah.
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You still don't even remember when I did it the first time, do you? ...Don't remember when you killed me either, I'm sure you'll say. Are you just trying to get out of taking responsibility for the shit you did? Tell me, Victor!
[And he shakes him by the throat a little.]
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Fuck. What does he say to that? He doesn't know that.]
W-What [He manages to choke.] N-Never did that.
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Do you think I just have this because I wanted us to match? You tied me to a chair and slit my throat. Because this place "got in your head." Is it in your head now, Victor? Is that why you're doing this to me?
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He actually looks hurt, surprised, fucking ashamed.]
Didn know that
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You'll remember. And then you can apologize for it again. [He shoves Victor back with a huff, slamming him against the door by his throat.] But today, you need to focus on apologizing for spreading your legs for anyone who comes around asking for it. Did you sleep with him, Victor? Did you give it up for him the second he got his filthy fucking mouth on you?
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Victor blinks jarred back into the present, the apparent "actual" issue.]
He's into pussy, boss, last I check I don't got that.
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...Take off your pants. [He pulls Victor by the throat just to slam his head back into the wall.] Now.
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Careful, without looking away, Victor pulls off his pants as ordered. Wetting his lips, Victor hesitates when they fall to his ankles, kicking them off. He’s gone commando because he always does.]
Ok.
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Roughly and without warning, he shoves one finger inside Victor, searching for any hint of moisture, lube or cum. He wriggles it around hard and erratic, trying to make it as uncomfortable as possible.]
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Head falling back he whines softly, planting his hands behind him. Roman’s search provides no evidence. Apparently, their trust didn’t involve penetration to Victor’s hole.]
Boss
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