agentorange: (Default)
[personal profile] agentorange
Title: Out with the Old
Rating: R
Words: 2331
Note: Noncon with Stephie. Probably considered AU since this never happened, at least not outside of Roman's fantasies. For [livejournal.com profile] per_tinacious.



"Ooooh, Stephieeee...Wake up, girlie."

The singsong voice of her nightmares cut through the druggy haze and she groped clumsily through the darkness of semi-consciousness. She stirred, her eyes half closed and heavy. She heard the slap before she felt it on her face.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Stephanie was seated at a candlelit table set for three. A female figure was barely visible across the table, but she could not make out any distinguishing features through her blurred vision and the dim candlelight. Her head lolled on her shoulders and she saw that she was no longer in uniform, but in an evening gown which was too tight across her chest. The panic she would have otherwise felt had been completely removed and replaced by a warm, drowsy sensation.

Roman stroked the bodice of the silk evening gown, tracing along the curve of her breasts. The dress had been big on Circe, and he hadn't been able to zip the dress completely up the back. Stephie had more meat on her bones than Circe, he'd noticed while changing her. He'd taken his time, stopping to arrange her unconscious body and take photographs. She was attractive. Not as attractive as Circe, but alluring in the same classless, rube sort of way that made him feel like he was slumming it, and somehow reminded him of holding mirrors under girls' skirts in prep school. Stephie, like Circe, was the kind of girl who looked better in a pearl necklace that washed off rather than actual jewelry.

"I know how much you like purple, little girl," he told her, gently cupping her cleavage. "And I also know how difficult you can be, hence the roofies. But I'll get all the good parts on video in case you want to reminisce later on down the road."

He moved away from her and sat, sipping his wine contemplatively. Circe would have thrown a shit fit if he had suggested that one day some sassy blonde would be in her clothes at a romantic, candlelit dinner with him. He'd have loved to have seen the fight between them. Stephie would win, even with her mediocre talent, but what Circe lacked in skill she would make up for with unadulterated, territorial bitch. Maybe she would manage to scratch out an eye before Stephie pinned her and stopped the fun.

"I would be a terrible host if I didn't introduce you to the other guest," he said to Stephanie, gesturing to the other figure. "Circe couldn't be here in person, so she's here in effigy. Which reminds me..."

He set down the wine glass and leaned toward Stephanie eagerly.

"Did you know the Spanish Inquisition used to burn people in effigy if they couldn't track them down?"

Stephanie's head bobbed and her chin came to rest on her chest. Roman frowned.

"No, you didn't, so stop nodding. Anyway, I want you to know that I don't make a habit of dragging Circe's mannequin around. I'm not some kinda creep. Her presence is symbolic; out with the old, in with the new, if you will. After dinner I'll chuck her back into storage. Can't have you two fighting over me, as amusing as that would be."

Circe had once accused him of doing just that; throwing people away when he had no further use for them. He hadn't denied it.

"And what about me? How long before I'm no longer 'useful' to you?" she'd spat angrily, her eyes red with tears.

When he'd hesitated, she'd storm from their apartment and refused to speak to him until he'd purchased her a diamond bracelet. He'd outlived his usefulness to her when he ran Janus to the ground.

One of Roman's hired muscle came into the dining room and set platters before Roman and Stephanie. When he exited, Roman pushed his plate toward Stephanie and pulled his chair to her side.

"I know you couldn't possibly eat another bite, but, please, for appearance's sake, at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself, Stephie," Roman said, cutting her veal parmigiana for her.

He inclined her head back against the chair's head rest and he tasted the tomato sauce. Then he dabbed his pointer finger in it. Parting her lips, he stuck his finger into her mouth, letting her sample the sauce. Her mouth worked mechanically, sucking the sauce form his finger.

"Delicious, isn't it? I used fresh Roma tomatoes."

When she had licked all the sauce from his finger, he removed it from her mouth and brought it to his face. He sniffed it, and then his tongue appeared from between his teeth. With his eyes on her, he licked her saliva from his finger.

"I made it 'specially for you, Stephie. Special times call for special measures, and you're my special girl. Daddy had a lot of obstacles to overcome before this date could come to fruition. I hope you can appreciate the effort I've gone through."

He dried his finger on his napkin and helped himself to her veal, chewing carefully to prevent spilling.

"Let me tell you a story, Stephie. Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Roman. Something stood in the way of what he wanted, so he eliminated the obstacle and he got what he wanted; instead of just clearing the hurdle, he burnt it to the ground and walked right over it. The end. Above all else, I am a persistent man. You know that from our previous dalliances."

He paused to sip his wine and caressed her blonde hair lovingly.

"You're persistent too. But I won't give you any lines about how we're made for each other. Your persistence is just ugly, pigheaded stubbornness with no rationale behind it. It's really quite unbecoming, honey."

He brought a handful of her hair to his face and inhaled. It was faintly fruity. It made him think of surprising Circe in the shower. She would feign embarrassment and playfully slap him away. She'd always let him in though, eventually, asking him to wash her back. He would oblige her, soaping her skin and inevitably slipping a sudsy hand between her legs while poking her buttocks with his erection.

He leaned closer to Stephanie, the crotch of his trousers now tented, and he pressed his mouth to her neck just below the ear. She smelled pleasant, her perfume mixing with her sweat. With a hand on her breast, he massaged her nipple through the gown and licked her neck, nipping at her skin. When he pulled away, he was satisfied to see he'd left teeth marks on her neck.

"A man like me sees stubbornness like yours as a challenge, babe. The thrill of the chase only makes breaking you that much more pleasurable, and believe me, it's gonna be pleasurable."

He pushed away from the table and stood. Circe's glass eyes stared blankly from beneath her mask as Roman heaved Stephanie over his shoulder.

"I'd just as soon as drag you by your hair across the floor, girlie, but that's a Dior you're wearing."

When he reached the bedroom, he kicked the door shut and dumped her unceremoniously on the bed. He went to the tripod-mounted camera in the corner of the room and, satisfied with the picture, he pressed play. While he removed his clothing down to his boxer briefs, he watched her sleep serenely. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, constricted by the too small gown. Roman rolled her to her side and unzipped the dress.

"You look mighty nice in that classy get-up, don't get me wrong, but I don't want you to suffocate," he said, pulling the material down over her legs, leaving Stephanie in the nude. He set her back down, arranging her head on a pillow.

He lay down beside her and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His hand trailed down her neck and stopped on her breast, feeling the nipple harden under his touch. He stroked it lightly with his thumb and she sighed in her sleep. His cock jumped at the breathy sound. Pressing himself against her hip, he lowered his head and took the nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth and teasing it with his tongue. His right hand moved over her abdomen, exploring her toned body.

"Shame you're not going to remember this, baby," Roman murmured, his hand sliding over her pubic bone. "But I promise I won't neglect you. I'll even cuddle you when we've consummated our relationship."

He fingered her clit briefly before bringing his hand to his mouth. He licked his fingers, tasting her. Then he spat on them and returned to her crotch, slickening her folds. His fingers slid easily over the wet skin as he used long, deliberate strokes from the entrance of her pussy back up over her hood. A soft moan escaped her throat. Roman raised his face to hers, continuing to stroke her.

"See? I told you this was gonna be pleasurable."

He pressed his face to hers, mashing his teeth against her slightly parted lips. Her lips pursed in her sleep, instinctively kissing him. Spurred on, Roman slipped a finger into her pussy. He was pleased to find that it was now lubricated from his efforts. He took his time drawing his finger in and out of her, and dipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting hers. She sighed into his mouth and he removed his hand from her pussy, placing it on her thigh. He squeezed her leg appreciatively.

"Lie back and relax, Stephie. Daddy's gonna take care of you."

He shifted on the bed, scooting down until he was positioned between her legs. Her fluids had begun to drip onto the bed. His tongue snaked from his mouth, lapping her pussy as he inhaled her scent deeply. He closed his eyes and flicked his tongue over her clit, inserting two fingers. Her chest rose and fell faster now. He pumped his fingers languidly, relishing the closeness of her hot walls. He swirled his tongue around her clit, flattening it and constricting its shape by turns. She gave another quiet moan which made his prick ache. With his free hand, he pulled his erect cock from his shorts, its tip wet with a drop of precum.

He paused his ministrations, panting lightly against her lips, and he withdrew his fingers, working her with his left hand now. With his right, he smeared her juices on his dick and squeezed it in his hand, a shudder running through him.

"The things you do to me, Stephie girl..."

He rolled away from her and yanked off his shorts, winking at the camera before he opened a drawer in the bedside table. He found a condom and pumped his cock a few times before sliding it on.

"Can't have any little Romans runnin' around, baby. Those fuckers would be evil with a capital E," he told her, climbing atop the bed and lowering himself over Stephanie. "Besides, I don't do fat chicks."

He pushed into her with a groan, filling her to the hilt. It took all his willpower not to pound her viciously. He forced himself to pull out slowly until just the tip of his prick was inside her, and he reached down between their bodies to fondle her clit. He fucked her in long strides, sometimes leaving her pussy completely before plunging himself into her again, caressing her clit with a circular motion. He rolled his pelvis and she moaned, her muscles beginning to clench around him. Taking his cue, he increased the pressure on her clit.

"Come for Daddy, Stephie," he urged, his breath catching as her pussy gripped his cock.

She sighed when she orgasmed, her head lolling on the pillow and her cheeks flushed. The contractions of her pussy on his dick broke his concentration and with a cry, he moved his hand from her clit to her breast and he began thrusting rapidly. Heady with desire, he wanted to hear her.

He closed his eyes and went back to that night during the blackout. She'd made him wait a long time before she'd said anything juicy, the little cocktease, but her screams had made up for it. Her screams. If there was a noise he'd never forget till the day he died, it was her screaming. High and undeniably blonde, but lusty through and through. It was a scream that kept him up at night devising new trials to elicit variations of that heavenly sound: short, sharp staccato shrieks and lengthy, vibrato heavy howls. And the face she made when she screamed and pleaded, the face that said she'd suck cock if the price was right. The face that society girls only made in night club bathrooms while trying to score coke from strangers, and Stephie flashed it to him at the first whir of a power drill. It was cheap and absolutely obscene, and it turned him on.

He groaned loudly as he came, slamming his dick as deeply into her as he could. A shiver ran through him as he spurted. He stayed inside her until his cock had gone limp, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. When he finally pulled out, he turned off the camera and cleaned himself up. He put his shorts back on, shaking his head. He returned to the bed, chuckling.

"You're somethin' else, baby, you know that? I can't believe I'm doing this."

He lay down beside her and pulled a sheet over the two of them, draping an arm around her waist.

"You tell anyone I snuggled with you, Stephie, and I'll kill you," he warned, hugging her close. "Last thing I need is everyone thinkin' I'm a softie."

He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, the fruity scent of her shampoo lulling him, and he closed his eyes; he had several hours before she woke up.
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