Work Text:
Knock, knock.
Gerri hasn't even had a chance to change, to indulge the fantasy that she might have an evening to herself during this godforsaken yacht excursion, before Roman (or course it's Roman) is knocking at her door.
She thinks she might hate the whole thing less if Logan did not bother putting the veneer of a vacation over the whole thing. She would prefer the dignity of a workplace and her business suits, but it's always getaways, retreats, receptions; just the same business in different places, while pretending to have fun.
"Hello, Roman," she says as she opens the door.
"Hey, so, who do we think it's going to be?" Roman says as he steps into her room without invitation, as if picking up the conversation from minutes ago and not hours.
"Like, I know we talked about it earlier, but we probably should, you know, talk for real about what we are going to do if it's us. Away from useless listening ears," he says as he moves continuously around her cabin.
"Us? Why would we both need to be sacrificed?"
"Not, like, us-us, but either of us," he waves his hand, "Like, what I should do if it's you, what you'll do if it's me, that kind of thing."
"Uh-huh. So you want me to come up with a plan for you if I get sacrificed, and you want me to tell you I will save you if you do?"
"Exactly!" he says, clapping and pointing at her. She sighs, she is so tired but it is actually a good idea.
"Well, since you are taking this seriously, we should really go all in and come up with a plan for every scenario, what you and I's moves should be in the wake of any possible sacrifice, not just you or me. It will be good to have a strategy in place so we can move quickly if we need to."
"You know that's my siblings you are probably talking about? God, that is the kind of cold-hearted scheming I like to hear out of you, you ice cold bitch. Let's fucking do this" he says.
She smiles slightly, she does enjoy the enthusiasm, his seemingly total commitment to the idea of them as a team.
"Well, let's try rockstar-and-mole-woman'ing it, as you say. You start talking and I'll start taking notes. I'll let you know if anything you suggest is illegal. Or just a terrible idea," she says as she gets out her laptop, sitting at her cabin's small desk while Roman paces around, fiddling with every item in the room in turn.
And they fall into a pretty good groove for a while, just as she'd hoped, but after an hour and a half she can tell Roman's concentration and energy are failing. She, however, has moved past tired and has hit the well of post-exhaustion productive energy that sustained her through law school and then decades of working at Waystar Royco, powering her eventually to General Counsel.
Roman, on the other hand, has moved to sprawling in various positions on her bed, and contributing little more than "uh-huh's" and obscene comments about every person as soon as their name comes out of Gerri's mouth.
"Come on Roman, I need you here actually with me," she snaps.
"Huh, what, I'm here," he says guiltily.
"I need you here for real. You are supposed to be the ideas fountain aren't you? You can't just be distractedly agreeing with everything I say. I need you to be coming up with Shirts-Off Shit."
His hand flinches up towards his top shirt button.
"Not actually, but you know, that is the mindset I need you to be in," she says.
"Maybe you could…get me in the mindset you want?" he says, not looking at her, and she should have guessed what he was angling for all along when he showed up at her room late at night. Well, that wasn't fair, he did want for them both to make it through all this, ideally together, and he was worried. But he also wanted to get his dick out.
She tries to look disappointed in him, but just because she is already playing his game. Honestly, she could use a break too. She should go to bed, actually, but barring that she will take a quickie. And from what she has seen so far of Roman, it is unlikely to last more than a couple minutes.
She's been having fun with….with whatever it is going on between them. It's so unlike anything she's done before, in her dating life and then her marriage. She can't guess where it is going, but she's interested to see where it takes them. And besides all that, it's just fun. It's amusing to see Roman squirm and hang on to her words.
"God," she says, letting her voice fall to a harsh whisper, to make it obvious to him that she is in, "Is that all you can ever think about? You can't even get through one meeting, a meeting to try and save both of our asses, without having to jerk yourself off. How pathetic."
He is frozen in place, barely moving except for his heavy breathing.
"Get off my fucking bed, you disgusting little worm. Get on the floor," she orders, pointing at a spot in front of her. Roman nearly falls over himself in his eagerness to obey, kneeling right in front of her and looking at her in breathless anticipation. The kneeling pulls his pants tight over his thighs and she can see the slight bulge of his cock, already hard.
On one hand, Roman is very clear what he wants; starting to jerk off with her on the phone line, showing up in her hotel room begging for more, asking her to get married. He is not subtle or shy. On the other hand, one of the things he clearly wants from her is for her to take control, to anticipate his desires and hand him what he wants, to insult him just right.
She's spent many years anticipating what people want professionally, she is good at it, but even she has to admit she is making it up as she goes. She has to feel out what he wants without making it seem like that is what she is doing. She is, after all, the hyper-competent filing cabinet that nobody pays attention to.
Still, she thinks, the worst thing would be for this to get boring, so she has got to keep things moving along, shock him a little. Hoping she is anticipating his desires, Gerri lifts one foot and slowly moves it towards his crotch, until it presses against him and she hears him gasp. He falls back from kneeling so that he is leaning back on his hands behind him. She feels him lift up slightly to rub against her foot.
She leans forward, and she can feel the pressure of his erection under the sole of her foot. It's thrilling. She has never touched him during their...liaisons. Even with his clothing between her and his dick and their bodies as far apart as two people technically engaging in a sex act can be, it feels shockingly intimate to her. By his reaction, it is to Roman as well.
"I hope you don't think you deserve to touch any other part of me, Roman. This is as much as you and your disgusting habits get, so make the most of it."
She can feel the heat of it, the way that his cock is trapped in the tight fabric of his pants, the firmness of it. She rolls her foot side to side over it in a way that she hopes communicates disgust, rather than any direct attempt to cause physical pleasure - how one might step on a bug, rather than the foot equivalent of a handy. Roman breathes heavily as he tries to rub himself off against her like an unfixed puppy. She occasionally presses down with what she calculates to be just enough pressure to hurt, causing Roman to moan.
When she takes her foot away, Roman pants, "Should I...?" and looks questioningly towards her cabin's bathroom.
"Do whatever the hell you want Roman, I honestly don't care about your dick one way or the other, besides the fact that your little problem is keeping us both from getting work done."
If she surprised him by putting her foot on him, now is his turn to surprise her, because the moment she gives permission, he sits up and fumbles for his belt and pushes his pants and underwear down just far enough to get his dick out. This is new too. She can only be surprised, though. She's seen dicks before and his is thoroughly unremarkable. It's a bit on the small side, but what else is there to say about it?
"Well go on then," she says when he pauses, "we don't want to be here all night." He starts frantically pumping himself.
"You know, Roman, I do have more important things to be doing right now," she says, pretending to read her laptop screen, "And so do you. So if you could please stop wasting both our time and hurry this up."
"Yeah?"
She glances at him, and there it is, that dumbstruck look that means he's eagerly hanging on her every word, unable to say anything himself other than receptive encouragement for her to continue with her abuse.
"Do you know how hard I work for you? And we can't get through a meeting, an urgent meeting, without you getting your worthless little dick out? Jesus, Roman, you need to learn some discipline. You need to be taught some discipline."
"My little dick?"
"Yeah, did you think you were going to impress me by showing it to me? No wonder you need to jack yourself off in front of your work-mommy to get off rather than just fucking. I mean, who would want to anyway?"
"Yeah?" is all he can say in return and his face is strained with a singularity of concentration on her words. When he gets like this she thinks that she's never seen him pay so close attention to anything. His hand pumps furiously, but he is listening to her with his whole body, twitching and gasping when she speaks. God, but she does want to blow his little mind.
She lifts her foot in front of his face. He stares at it, then her, expectantly, never stopping beating off.
"Like I said, this is the only part of my body your dick deserves to touch and it's the only part your filthy mouth deserves to touch either."
Reverently, he lowers his face, bending over his hand at his crotch, and gives what, even in this context, could only be described as a chaste, respectful kiss. It feels romantic, Gerri thinks, she might even be blushing. She has to force herself not to smile
He keeps his face hovering just above, but not touching, her foot. She lifts it slightly until it presses against his cheek, and he opens his mouth. She pushes her toes into his waiting, expectant mouth. He doesn't close his mouth around them, just keeps it obediently open, but he gasps out breaths and looks pleadingly up at her. She can feel his saliva, as if she has just stepped in a puddle, and sees it drip shining down his chin.
"Normally you restrain yourself to leaving your cum on my floor, but I guess I can add drool to your list of disgusting messes. What am I going to do with you, Roman? You revolting little freak."
He moans noisily against her and his whole body jerks dramatically, as he spills convulsively onto the floor between the two of them. She lowers her foot, wiping it on his shirt as she goes.
"You know, if I had a dog that made a mess like that I would shove his face in it," she says as one last piece of abuse and shoots him an affectionate smile while he blinks himself back to the world, "Clean it up and let's get back to work."