Chapter Text
“This is my partner, Roman,” Gerri says matter-of-factly, as if this is a sentence she’s said a hundred times before.
“Fiancé now, I hear,” the man responds, and Roman doesn’t know him apart from recognizing his face from previous investor events but he already wants to kiss his bald head, right there in front of everyone, for putting that truth out there. They had meant to keep it under wraps, at least for a little while longer, get people used to the idea of them first, but now, seeing the man’s gaze focussed on Gerri’s low-cut dress and delectable curves, Roman can’t really remember why he ever thought keeping it a secret would be a good idea.
“You’re right,” Gerri says, extending her hand as if she was a princess asking for a kiss, only to flash her extravagantly expensive ring in the man’s face.
“Congratulations,” he says, raising his glass and looking from her to Roman. Gerri’s smile is slight, almost shy, but Roman’s positively beaming , grinning from ear to ear as his arm wraps around Gerri’s waist, giving a short thank you, if you’ll excuse us to the gentleman before whisking Gerri away.
There were many things Roman never knew about himself before he started dating Gerri.
For one, he didn’t expect how much he’d love to show her off. Those who claimed it was the other way around, that she was simply using him for his devilishly handsome looks and a rich and familiar last name, clearly didn’t know them , because while Roman was more than happy to play at being Gerri’s househusband-turned-trophy-husband-on-occasion, he was also so shamelessly head over heels in love with her and do unused to keeping his mouth shut that the rumors died down simply because he was too relentlessly obsessive over her for people to be able to spin the narrative. It was always Gerri this, Gerri that, until Shiv became accustomed to inviting Gerri over because the woman might as well speak for herself, right?
And well, he also didn’t expect how horny he’d get, once people knew about them, once the great secret was out in the open, as if people suspecting he could and did fuck Gerri made him all the more ready to do it a thousand times over. And those who thought he couldn’t , or didn’t , well, he wanted to prove them wrong. Again, and again, and again.
Which is why, once they sit down and he rests his hand on her thigh under the table, Gerri doesn’t even flinch.
He gazes at her lovingly, when their eyes meet as she picks up her glass of wine. She raises her glass to him, and he takes it as an opening, an invitation, his fingers starting their discreet travel up and down her thigh. It’s electric, sending shivers down her spine. How quickly he undoes her, now, even with the lightest of touches.
His fingers stop right at the crease, as far as he can reach. When he presses down, searching for her center, so close to where she needs him but unable to quite get there, with the dress in the way, Gerri has to suppress a moan, bites it back with a mouthful of salad. She shoots a warning glance his way, but it’s incredible, really, how great he is at multitasking, because he barely glances her way, engrossed in an animated conversation with someone across the table.
Inevitably, to gesture at something or other, he moves his hand away, and she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’s been holding. She feels his absence, keenly, and a wave of disappointment, perhaps even regret, at not doing more to help get him what he wants, what they both want. For not letting him have his way with her right there at the table, under everyone’s noses.
It’d be worrying, the way they crave each other, if it wasn’t so goddamn exhilarating.
She excuses herself from the table, and it’s not long before Roman follows, feigning a concerned look for the fellow guests, muttering something about checking on his fiancé. He suspects he knows where she’s gone and why, though, knows she probably expects him to follow.
“Gerri?” He ventures, stepping into the woman’s bathroom. There’s someone already there, of course, checking herself in the mirror, because this isn’t a story, and the bathroom isn’t just conveniently empty.
“Hey there,” he says softly, before the woman can freak out, “I’m just looking for my girlfriend, blonde, ‘bout ye tall, think she came in here? Just wanted to check on her, see if she’s okay.” The woman’s eyes soften and she nods.
“Could you give us a minute?” Roman asks, and she does, thankfully, which makes Roman feel like the slickest and luckiest bastard alive, especially when he realizes the outer door has a lock. He locks it before Gerri comes out, and stands waiting for her, leaning on the door.
“Hi gorgeous,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively until she laughs, looks at her reflection in the mirror as she washes her hands. She looks younger, healthier than she has in years. The laughter becomes her, and the sex. And the love.
“Roman,” she warns, when he comes closer and wraps his arms around her, starts softly kissing her neck.
“What, don’t tell me I got this wrong,” he murmurs into her shoulder, letting his hands wander over the bodice of her dress as he licks her ear, and then down the nape of her neck.
She sighs, relaxing into his arms.
“We shouldn’t,” she practically whispers into his mouth when he finds his way to her lips.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, hovering over her open mouth, feeling her breath on his lips.
But there was no need to ask, anyway, because her tongue’s already prying him open, licking over his lips, his teeth, playing with his tongue.
“Roman,” she moans, grabbing at his arm, pulling him over her until her entire body is leaning into his. She’s just as needy for him as he is for her, and it’s driving him crazy, he wants to tear open her dress right there and pound her against the counter, and she’s helping him, lifting up her dress until it’s on her hips and he can push down her panties, just to her knees, and he unzips his pants in a frenzy, his dick hard and leaking and just straining to be inside her.
“Wait, I don’t think I’m -” Gerri starts, but Roman knows exactly what she means, is an expert at this point in Gerriology , and fishes in his pockets for the packet of lube he knows he put in there before they left.
It’s a treasure, seeing her face light up in the mirror when she realizes what he’s got.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been planning this,” she pouts, but he just shrugs his shoulders, tearing open the packet with his teeth and spreading the lube over his cock.
“Me, planning to have sex with my future wife? Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Before she has time for a witty retort, he’s slowly, gently pushing himself inside her, and she can’t help the groan that escapes her, feeling him like this, hot and throbbing inside her.
“We don’t have time, Roman,” she snaps at him when he tries to take it slow. “Just fuck me alre-”
Her word, unfinished, turns into a growl when he pulls out and pushes back in fast and hard, and there’s something animalistic in this, in the quick snaps of his hips against her ass, here, in this public space where probably everyone walking outside can hear them, or at least deduce what’s going on.
“Fuck, Gerri, this is too good, I can’t -” Roman chokes out, keeping up a steady, maddening rhythm, nipping her neck when the pressure gets too much, and she’ll have love bites all over, she knows, will probably see them soon after they walk out of the bathroom, the visible proof of his desire for her.
It’s only seconds after when he bites her shoulder with his canines so sharp it stings, and she feels him still suddenly, jerking once or twice as he comes inside her. It’s only then that she becomes aware, properly, of his breath on her neck, of the biting pain in her shoulder, of the mirror in front of her. He looks ravaged, raw, licking over the spot where he bit her, saying sorry over and over as his dick slips out of her.
“You didn’t -” he mutters, brain still foggy and fucked out, almost goes to his knees to clean her up and then take care of her, as he’s used to.
“Roman,” she says, sharply, “it’s fine, I’ve told you before I don’t need to come for sex to be enjoyable for me.”
“M’okay, I know, but I’m sorry anyway,” he half-murmurs into her shoulder blade, kissing her there before moving away to get her something to clean herself up with at least.
“No,” she says when he offers her the paper towels, and he watches wide-eyed as she pulls up her panties, gathering some of the cum now drying on her thighs before pulling them in place.
“Fuck,” he pronounces, with his usual eloquence. “Is this, is this real? Are you real?”
He wraps his arms around her again, puts his head between her shoulder and jaw, watching the two of them in the mirror. Gerri’s smiling for real now, not the fake put-on smile she gave the gentleman, but the kind of smile she reserves for his eyes only.
“You sure I can’t…” Roman mutters straight into her ear, “interest you in some payback? Right now?” He nuzzles at her neck, like a dog waiting to be pet.
She laughs and shakes her head, and says, with a devilish grin, “It’s fine. We should get back. Besides, I know you’ll pay me back later.”