Let me kick a little game for you... Who: Tym Panic Yessenia Ayala & Roman Turin What: A first meeting When: March 15 - very late, after an Abstracted show Where: Random venue Rating: High; language and sexual situations Status: Complete
”Lean against the wall checking out the scenery All I see is everybody trying to get with me So I continue to play it crazysexycool Lost all composure when I laid my eyes on you You just wanna know if you can kick some game Come with something more clever than just your name.”
One moment one was dragged to a Valentine’s charity, bidding on a date- that was surprisingly not for that night- and the next, one finds themself at a small gathering after party from the band’s concert. Dressed in a black vest, black jeans, and a plain white t-shirt, Roman held a beer in his hand as he watched the people interact with one another. At any given moment, Roman easily broke into conversation, flirted with anyone and everyone, and then allowed the party to go on around him. In and out of interactions, changing slightly with whoever he was speaking with, but always a shadow with an angel face and mischievous dark eyes that caught the light around him.
He had been surprised by the lack of true partiers in the band. Most of the bands he had met and went to parties for were high energy, drugs, drinks and loud conversations. Abstracted had an easiness to them from his perspective. High energy when they needed to be. It was impressive really. Flux had made quite the impression at the charity and more so on the date a few days afterward, that he was intrigued to see how the rest of the girls worked.
Alone in the corner. Roman leaned against the brick wall near a wooden door that he could guess where it led. He could just sneak into the room for a moment, get away from people. People did not drain him in any manner, they gave him life, but there were moments after the crowds that he separated himself to have a moment to think. He could party for days, yet would always end up alone with his thoughts at some point or another.
“Ay!” Yessenia called, emitting a racoucos roll of her ‘r’s “Mi gusta!”
Her outfit was polished, not necessarily the norm for her unless the whim took her. She was a princess at heart; she wasn’t necessarily after Prince Charming but she wasn’t counting that out either. Even if Prince turned into Princess. Whatever came she would take, Tym Panic wasn’t picky and neither was she.
When she wasn’t smiling she was reserved, observant. Quiet. This persona was opposite what she was used to and it took most of her energy to keep up. She would give what she had to her fans. No less. It was expected of her.
But she needed a breath once in a while just like anyone - a steady retreat was taken and the click of her boots were lost in the shuffle.
A breath.
Yessenia took one and she found herself pressed against the cold brick of a wall. Her eyes fell to the scarred wooden floor, she studied it, hoping her fans would give her a moment to collect herself.
One foot pushed back against the wall easily sliding him forward out of his space of observance as Yess entered the room. Tym Panic. All of their names changed for their fame, but he’d gotten her real name from lush lips ready to spill. Yessenia’s had a bit of amusement to it, in his head spelled with three too many s’ in it.
“There’s better places to hide, you know.” Arm leaned back onto elbow as he took a spot beside her. “Or, at least, less open spaces to watch others from.” Roman’s smile was as easy as his voice, which in turn held a cool and dark tone that both matched his boyish and angelic face as well as revealed the not so innocent side of it.
Her chin lifted.
She had seen many a man in similar situations, all of them bold and eager. Nothing set them apart. She could lift a bus and none ever matched her strength and yet she was so fragile.
“¿Qué deseas?” she breathed as her head turned and her eyes met his own. This wasn’t hiding — this was taking a breath.
The bright grin she’d held out on the floor had faded. For a moment she was herself, the shadow of what Tym Panic was. A breath came through her nose, unsatisfied. El toro.
Bored, Yessenia turned away to peer back at the crowd. It would take more than sweet words and a pretty face to coax her cold heart.
Dismissiveness did not phase nor make Roman skip a beat. “I'm a friend of Julia's. Well, more like I won a date with her and got to cook her dinner,” he answered as if she had spoken in English. Spanish was not so hard to understand when one's mother forced Latin down one's throat. Slang was difficult to grasp, but the basic concepts came quickly enough. Flux’s dedication to the band had pushed the date off for a few weeks from the charity, but Roman had not expected a personal date to begin with so he was fine with it.
His brows raised briefly. A breeze of bonding pheromones danced around them. Making friends of closed off hearts was barely a challenge as long as they breathed. Though he would be careful with manipulating her hormones, since if the rumors he heard about her abilities were true, he couldn't use touch to keep his own control of them in check.
“I suppose I should let you back to your fans and wait around for Flux.” Roman returned to his drink and spot in the corner away from the people. All he had were rumors to go off of, and the obvious mutations, so he had no problem waiting to see her response to his pheromones. Let it not be said that he didn't try not using his abilities, as he always did.
She had not always been that way - standoffish, cold. When her family had been together she had been capricious, curious, eager. Yessenia was not known for her warmth or friendliness though that did not mean she didn’t care. Her trust was earned. The band had become her family outside of what remained of her sisters.
When the stranger mentioned the auction Yessenia glanced up at him. He was familiar now that she took a good look at him. That made a bit more sense and she was glad for Julia to have been snapped up. Her friend was amazing.
Suddenly her temper had changed; to her fans Yessenia was entirely different than usual but this was something else all together. Her face relaxed, eyebrows arched. The fire inside of her was still there but it wasn’t nearly as deadly.
The mention of her fans had her eyes turning to the crowd. Nobody seemed to see her just then and while she felt at ease with the group of warm bodies she couldn’t help feel a touch out of place. That feeling grew with every step away the stranger took.
A hand lifted to brush away dark hair and then Yessenia turned on the balls of her feet, padding along after the stranger. “She will be a while.”
“Never expect a band to make it to their own after party on time,” while his voice held deep tones, his laugh was light and spoke towards a man who was likely a tenor in song. “I’m use to waiting.” He shrugged, leaning his back against the door he had stood next to previously.
The many ways he could manipulate someone, Roman had decided on the bonding approach for the band. It was what much of his commands were laced with when he needed to send bodies into a fight for him or have them send messages to others. The closer she came to him the stronger the attraction pheromones weaved between the bonding to put her on her sweeter side- not the show face, not the abrasive face, but something she held for herself.
Head pushed back against the wall, his dark gaze looked around the space once more instead of at Yessss. “There’s a lot of people here. I hope the show went as well as they think it did.” It was not uncommon for the audience to be unaware of any mistakes or mishaps that happened during a concert.
They gave their best. Bottom line. Whatever mistakes or mishaps would come - Yessenia was clumsy in her own right and it wasn’t uncommon to see her falling off of the stage or tumbling over her own kit. In essence those things added a sense of realism to the sets to let their fans know that it wasn’t polished and overproduced, that they were real and human.
Whatever had been bothering her moments ago had been cast to the wayside - she felt better and a sense of attraction was there tickling at the underside of her skin. Yessi paused next to the stranger, pressed a shoulder against the hard brick and then turned her dark eyes out to the swirl of vibrancy.
“We try to keep things as real as possible,” she explained. There was always a few who were unimpressed but she had learned to take those fans in stride - the bigger picture was there to see. They were relatively well liked and well thought of when it came to consideration to play events.
“What did you think?” She inquired, turning to peer up at the tall stranger.
“I liked it. I’ve been to a few of your concerts, but it’s always better when you know someone in the band.” His gaze turned down to her, the smirk ever on his lips. The entire band was made of attractive and talented people. Dual-sided beauties. That was what mutants had that humans missed out on, every mutant was a complex being of duality. Man thought they were such creatures and did not know any better until mutants came along.
Fingers lifted to graze the jawline. “How long do you suppose I’ll have to wait by myself?” He asked softly. “I’m sure you have better things to do than keep me company.” He leaned in conspiratorially toward her. “I heard all musicians immediately change into pajamas and slippers after their shows. It’s why it takes them so long to get to after parties- they have to redress.”
The idea that he had liked their show warmed her. She was glad to know that others responded so well to their music, their art. They all poured themselves into their music, their instruments, the songs. Collaboration was done together but they each spent time working through various parts on their own to bring something to the table.
“I do not know.” Each of them took their time meeting fans and networking. It wasn’t something they rushed through, support was important to them.
Those fingers tracing the line of her jaw had her shivering. “But you do not have to wait alone.” The idea of parting, of moving away was suddenly not something she wanted to entertain.
“I think they just want to look good,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders. She was more of the princess of the band, Yessi strove to always be put together whether she was on stage or in her pajamas at home.
“Oh? You're going to keep me company then?” His brows rose in amusement. Hair spilled forward towards his face, the long strands hitting his chin as he tilted his head to the side.
The din of the crowd of people, chatting, laughing, singing portions of the band's songs continued on around the corner from them. One member or all of them, the audience just loved the opportunity to interact with them. Many times with bigger names, Roman had found himself someone with a VIP pass and joined the parties that way. Little did he know all he had to do was attend charities and get invited to concerts that way. The thought amused him while his dark gaze looked over Yess.
“We could always go to your dressing room if you need to refresh. Not that you need to.”
If he was waiting for Flux, the chances were higher of her coming over because Yessenia was there. She suspected that before long Flux would come searching for her friend and find this other friend in the process, which would be inevitably the goal. Monica would possibly drift over, too. They tended to end up where the others were before too long.
“For now,” she confirmed. Eventually she would have to get back out and back to the grind of meeting fans but for now taking a bit to herself wasn’t so bad. The company made it better.
The idea of taking this person to the back where the band usually met was not one she typically would have entertained. Silently, with a casual shrug of a shoulder Yessenia considered it. She did not do that at all. Picking people up was not something she was keen about, especially when she didn’t know them. It was hot with all of the body heat though, a moment to breathe might be nice.
Her hand lifted. She waved at him in a gesture that would imply that he should go with her before she was turning and moving toward the section of the place reserved for the bands.
“With me,” she said to one of the people standing there guarding the entryway. A thumb was thrown over her shoulder to signify that the man following her was ok and was in her group. With a nod the man at the door bade them entrance and let them pass by.
Following close behind, the people easily parted their way; a grade school trick that Roman came upon early on at the blacksite. Not that the scientists had envisioned him using his powers to get through a crowd of fans for a band, but then, he doubted they thought he would live as long as he did. Fingers passed over the skin of some fans around them that were decidedly rough, inflating their serotonin levels and calming their aggressions, as Roman and Yess passed by. Roman had taken a liking to the band- for now. He did not want some drunk idiot messing up his good night.
Winking at the security man, he continued into the back, letting his gaze drag over the man at the door before disappearing completely. Roman stood behind Yessenia as he looked around for the brief pause, hands moving over leather clad shoulders of the shorter female. “Where to now? I’m at your mercy,” he teased. “I’m Roman, by the way, we never properly introduced ourselves.”
The hallway was a bit dim, overhead a fluorescent light flickered. This wasn’t a posh venue, the area for the band wasn’t the way one might expect from the movies but it was enough for the three of them to be comfortable in. None of the ladies in the band had a shred of embarrassment when it came to dressing or undressing in front of each other. When you travelled to gigs in a van the way they did that was a common thing to get over.
“This way.”
Her footfalls were louder now. The floor was concrete and the corridor narrow. She lead him toward one of the doors near the back of the place, pushing it open with a hand easily. Across the threshold was the place the band would leave their things - clothes, stage makeup, cases for instruments.
Yessenia plopped down onto one of the empty couches, one leg folded beneath herself. “Yessenia,” she offered as an introduction was concerned. The space next to her was offered if Roman felt up to sitting down. “Do you play?” Conversation - when it was new - was not her strong suit but she was trying.
It depended on what movies one watched to if it portrayed the backstage lounge area as anything more than a holding space. As much as everything in Hollywood was romanticized, there were still a decent amount that recognized smaller venues took less care of their backstage area.
Taking in the dressing room, fingers running over the cases for the instruments, there was a momentary silence of deep thought as he noted the scattering of items. Turning around, a smile back on his face, Roman nodded. “Pleasure to meet you finally.” He paused looking at the offered couch space beside her before taking the seat. His black jeans surprisingly soft to the touch as he let his legs partially touch Yessenia’s bare skin.
“I don’t. The best I can do musically is sing.” His gaze fell briefly to look at the floor before returning to her. “My parent focused on science and math over anything else.” Roman offered small bits of himself for conversation sake. Only Cordelia knew the depth of the matter with his family, but Roman found he needed to offer something to relate to.
The brush of the soft fabric against her skin sent a small shiver down her spine, flesh flecked momentarily with goosebumps. It was not a negative reaction in any sense, just one that was natural. Her skin was odd; it was impenetrable and how it reacted to things often was interesting. A hand lowered, fingertips grazing a line across his jeans lengthways where the fabric touched her leg leaving a streak.
“Music is much like math.” It required counting beats, keeping time with rhythm though she knew that both math and music could be entirely more complex on their own. Being proficient with numbers was good. She couldn’t care less about the science. “That is a good thing, being versed in something that most people are not. What do you sing?”
Some people sang in the shower, in their car, places they couldn’t be heard by others. Others were bolder and tried karaoke or American Idol. He didn’t seem like the latter part.
The goosebumps had been missed. Her hand, however, would only have been missed by the oblivious. Instinctively, his tongue moved over his bottom lip. If she was curious to his touch, he would oblige, as he would anyone, but for right now, the slow break of the barriers was amusing enough.
“Not sure any of those things could be considered being versed in something most aren’t.” A laugh and Roman shifted his hair behind his ears. He could be sure that most people did not know scientific facts to the extent he did- specifically on genetics- but science was something that surrounded them. Mutants were the highest standards of the science of evolution.
“What do I sing? Anything I hear, really.” Roman could figure that she might be asking a more detailed question in the simple sentence. He merely chose to answer the obvious. “I have been told I’m a tenor.”
Her hand retreated. She peered up at him with her full attention, leaning back against the cushion. It was comfortable sitting there making idle chat. Yessenia was not a woman of many words but she didn’t usually have to be. Julia and Monica said enough for the three of them, she was generally the observant one. She’d been called boring before in the media but she wasn’t worried about it. Nobody had to be around that didn’t want to be.
“Mathematics and science are unique subjects,” she replied, shrugging a shoulder dismissively. Few people were actually good at math - to her knowledge anyway - and she found mathematics easier to understand when music was involved. A lot of things were easier to understand when music was involved.
The questions could be taken as they came, detailed answers or not. “Tenor is not bad. Do you have favorite music?” The back and forth wasn’t so bad. Roman was interesting though she knew very little about him. And she wasn’t sure why she was intrigued but there she was.
Long black lashes over beautiful brown eyes, Yessenia was incredibly attractive. A part of him compared her eyes to Cordelia’s, the quietness behind them and personal power. A genuine smile broke through. His smiles tended to have a mischievous tone to them, except when he thought of Cordelia, then it became almost innocent. The innocence left as quickly as it came. His eyes flicking away briefly.
Roman adjusted his position to lean towards her. “Yours,” he answered. A beat and he laughed. “I don’t really have a favourite. I listen to club music most nights when I go out, and sing along to anything on the radio.”
Lowering his gaze to her leg, he let his fingers play at her knee. “What is your favourite genre to play?”
Those dark eyes were always watching; observing people was a favorite of hers even in a personal sense. She noticed the way he seemed to change even slightly, something about his smile, the light in his eyes … her lips pursed and then he looked away as if watching the feeling turning tail to flee. She said nothing about it, it was none of her business and imposing only brought more questions she did not want to have to answer of her own.
She had heard that answer before. It was predictable. Yessi smiled anyway to indulge him. “Club music is not always bad. It is different depending on the club, but not a bad thing.” Some of it she liked, some of it she didn’t.
As his eyes fell Yessenia’s lips pulled into a smirk. “Whatever is the hardest.” She loved a song with a good beat but punk, metal, the darker genres of music tended to play into her obsession with drumming. It was challenging. She had come to appreciate rap music recently as well. “I like the vibrations, too.”
Her hand lowered. Two of her fingers stretched, making a walking motion across the back of his hand though her gaze stayed on his frame.
The predictable answer had been to poke fun at it as an answer. It was a self-aware joke, that Roman knew damn, well would have been something her and her bandmates would have heard a thousand times over. Roman could not say he had a favourite music. He enjoyed listening to all kinds. Honesty would say that he had been deprived so much of his life from many things such as music that he found enjoyment in most every kind of music. It was easier to pick sounds he did not like. But then, to say as much would reveal more than he wished.
“Vibrations are the most important part.” His fingers idly continued. “I’m a little jealous of you and the band, I would have loved to learn an instrument. Now, I don’t have the time.” Roman had vague memories before he was ten of his father taking him past a guitar store. They were pretty and he might have wanted to play them had he ever had the chance.
Not having time was an excuse, really. He had as much time as he made for himself. The only thing that ever changed his plans of freedom was missions from Chrysalis. His free hand came up and touched the pluto pendant that hid beneath his shirt because he hadn’t bothered to pull it through when he threw on the shirt.
“You make time for the important things.” Yessi shrugged a shoulder dismissively. Music, math, the dog down the street. Nobody could tell you what to spend your precious seconds of life on, that was up to you to decide. Even people fell somewhere into that category. Her time was valuable and each moment calculated carefully.
“Or you learn to live through others, but mijo that is not being alive.”
The tips of those walking fingers paused. She traced mindless shapes across the expanse of skin at the back of his hand absently. “You can hang with us as much as you want to. No need to be jealous. We do because we can, because there are words to be said that others will not say.” They were the voices of the few and the many, the echoes of the age.
“Hmm, I might need to have you show me how to live then.” Irony. Roman lived his life as a freedom through others. His manipulations of them could be seen as such. Attraction pheromones released with every mindless shape she drew upon his skin. He could not help himself in that manner. She had been brash at first. Roman’s instincts and conditioning had produced a coping mechanism in him that met aggression or distrust on any level with his abilities.
“Hanging out with the band? Does that make me a groupie or your personal bartender and chef?” Being as he had went out of his way to make Flux a vegetarian dinner that was more than some pad thai dish. His voice quieted. “There’s a lot that others won’t say. So many fear action. Fear themselves.”
Her face contorted a touch with confusion - Roman had not given her the impression that he was the type who just lived through other people, who lacked control over his life. But then she barely knew him. “Ay, mijo, if that is what you need.” It was a large promise to make, her life was complex. It wasn’t necessarily a quiet one but it was hers. If he wanted adventure it would have to be gleaned elsewhere. Maybe Julia. Her mind floated a moment to Dante, her best friend, who was also adventurous. She would have to introduce them.
A feeling of attraction washed over her. She eased into it as one might into a warm bath and heat radiated throughout her frame. Fingers continue to dance across the swath of skin. Her eyes did not leave his though.
“Whatever you want to be, Roman.” When his name left her lips she rolled the first letter in such a way it was nearly a purr. Hanging out with someone did not necessarily mean there was implication or obligation. For her the presence alone was what mattered. She cared for so very few that the idea of welcoming another, a stranger, had frightened her and yet right now it felt comfortable. Easy.
When he mentioned action she tipped her head slightly, “I am not afraid of what I am. I am not afraid of anyone else.” Not physically, anyway. “I am not pleased with the rules, with the way we are treated. I would fight if I could, but I am here and the band is most important. We fight with our words.”
The look of confusion produced a soft laugh. Looks could be deceiving, but it was the complexity behind such statements that made any one person more interesting than simple words taken at face value. He had been playful in his statement with no obligation from the drummer beside him. If the lesson were to be real it would be from someone he trusted deeply- that person had problems of their own with living. Internally, Roman pushed back those thoughts. He was being oddly sentimental for a night out.
“I wasn’t suggestion you were. I merely see it in my customers at the bar.” He shrugged. Fighting if she could, hmm? Roman was sure that Chrysalis would not mind a physically strong and impenetrable member, but given his methods, recruitment would be easy and short term- so he rarely did it, unless he went for the long game or found an angry and scared mutant who was an easy push. The band seemed to prefer their stage.
Going back to what he would be to the band, Roman leaned his head back on the couch and smiled. He loved that purr in people’s voices when they were talking to him. It appealed to every sense and desire. “What would you want me to be, Yesss?” He laughed, holding onto the s sound when saying her name. “I don’t have quite the same way with names as you do.” His fingers upon her knee started to sweep a few inches up her leg and back in a purposefully mindless action.
Life was a silly, complicated thing which she found hard to understand at times. It was supposed to be simple; your life belonged to you and you alone and yet it seemed to vary from person to person. She wasn’t always ready for the challenges, for those twists and turns. There were times she felt helpless against it in spite of her strength and resistance to shattering.
The bit of insight she had shared floated away. Yessenia only smiled in response to his observation and she nodded with reply. “I am sure you see many people, then.” You learned to read people by watching them diligently - a bar was a trove of observation.
That drawing out of the last letter of her name caused her lips to quirk into a smirk. The fingers church had been dancing across the back of his hand lifted and now touched delicately at the line of his jaw. She could break him if she wasn’t careful. “It is not up to me to want. But a friend would do just fine.” This was not her choice to make but she was welcome for the company. While she wasn’t necessarily fond of nicknames - especially from strangers - she made no point to correct him. “Are you sure about that?”
Fingers on his jaw, he angled his face toward her and into her hand. His delicately split chin pressing against her as it briefly passed. The level of her control of her strength had to be incredible for as light as her touch was. So many things could go wrong in any interaction he had with her, yet Roman did not bother to worry about it. If she broke him, and he was capable of doing so, he would find the closest doctor on the street to control and have them fix him away from any hospital or office.
“People watching is easiest from behind the bar.” Roman could say that people were either entirely not themselves around him or completely themselves when he was working at the bars. He used his powers with no care to get extra tips. Sometimes that meant people went against their better judgements and true natures still depending on the situation.
“I like friends,” he said softly. Eyes brightening, dropping to her lips and back to her eyes, Roman ran his teeth over his bottom lip. They could compare on how well each could roll their tongues, but Roman chose to not say that outloud. Instead, he hummed a sound of agreement.
The weight of his head against her palm and fingers was not lost upon her. It had taken a lot of practice to come as far as she had with her ability and even now she could lose control if she wasn’t careful. She had no interest in harming him, not at the moment. It brought a smile to her lips and a shimmer to her dark eyes.
A hum of a reply was offered to both of his statements; neither were false in any sense, those casual observations offered. People watching, liking friends. Both appealed to her.
“Me too,” she admitted finally. Friends came in many different varieties. That was the next question begging to be asked, what type of friends would they be?
Grazing across his skin went her fingertips. Yessi brushed the pad of a finger across the smooth skin of his bottom lip where he’d bitten at, finding the heat inside of her body growing.
“That’s good,” Roman laughed. Friends had such a loose definition. Most of the people who circled around him in the city would be considered friends by other’s observations. Cordelia called the people in his apartment his friends when he had just met them that night. People came and went by the tides of his whims and few really mattered. Then, there were those that he had fun with and kept longer than a night.
A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “What are you thinking?” His brow quirked and his mouth asked, but his mind had a pretty good guess.
He would say that this was not his plan. He held very few plans when missions weren’t involved. It just so happened that his natural reactions turned the tide of any one-on-one situation into that of a different kind of one-on-one situation. It helped when they were attractive- in red leather and short shorts, or well tailored suits or jeans and a plan shirt sitting at home working.
Yessenia tossed her head, dark hair tumbling over a shoulder and a hoop earring sparkling in the dim light of the green room. They were clip ons, of course, her earrings. Nobody had to know that but it wasn’t like she denied anything one way or the other. The fingers at his jaw ascended into his hair. She played with it, running the strands through lithe fingers all the while moving herself closer and closer as if drawn like a moth to a flame.
Her lips parted. “Guess.”
This had not been her plan either. Usually she would be out with her sisters greeting fans and mingling but something had overcome her stoic sensibilities and here she was nearly climbing into the lap of a stranger. It was not a bad turn of events in the slightest. She needed to lighten up a bit anyway.
As she moved closer, Roman’s hand slipped from her leg up to her hip rounding over her soft curves. Lips centimeters away. One hand raised, fingers pushed back dark tendrils of hair. From the outside, it might have been asked how Roman ended up in these situations. Anyone not in the know would see two attractive people alone in a dimly lit, quiet room after being amongst a crowd. Part of it contributed to the situation.
Pulling her onto his lap, a sly smile kept to his lips. “Rolling r’s?” He guessed. His hand moved from her hip up her back, under the jacket. Roman might as well been one of the seven deadly sins before he was a Horseman, dulling everyone’s sensibilities and pushing them down to free the spirit and warm the body.
Her eyes rolled at him.
Yessenia was amused and totally done with all of that sass. She laughed, those dark eyes fixing once more upon him as her destination wound up being in his lap. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers kneading through his hair and to the back of his neck as their eyes met. “If that is all you know me for, I suppose that is not a bad thing” Playful, her eyes drifted innocently to the side to linger for a moment.
“Or,” she suggested, rolling her ‘R’s, “I could call you Papi…” A bottom lip was bitten as her eyes returned to his. A cant of her head, she lifted her chin slightly.
If anyone had happened upon them they would be in a precarious position but that was the last part of her rational mind. She was no mutant who stood out and yet she was herself with a bit of influence.
Roman closed the space between their lips, nipping at her bottom lip. “You could call me anything you’d like.” He said against her lips. Hand slipping from the back of her neck, fingers ran down skin pushing the edges of the soft leather jacket away down her arms. The muffled sounds of people speaking over each other and some low beat of music pulsed through the walls.
Best worst decisions.He had come to the concert for a party, to see the girls in action with their fans, and hang out with the overworked Flux. For a band, they really did not take any of it at a relaxed pace. Yessania had a hidden spice, the lack of space between them could be called Roman helping her relax.
Heat crawled through his veins. Desire seeping through his body. Their desires, whether from the pheromones or not, stirred such feelings in him as they gave off their own pheromones in response. Roman's mind sensed the levels. Tongue flicked out across her lip asking for permission to deepen the kiss.
As their mouths collided she couldn’t help but grin. A breath escaped her nose, and then her lips as he worried the skin with his teeth. “Papi,” she purred, all his in that moment. The word was emitted in a growl, playful and heated.
She twisted, parting from him enough to slide out of the red leather jacket. Beneath she had on a black, lace bralette designed to entice and leave nothing to the imagination. Those dark, flowered shorts were the same way.
Then she was back, lips parting to allow him entrance as he saw fit. Whatever he needed.
Both articles of clothing did as designed. Fingers fell down open, bared skin. Body adjusted against the couch, tongue caressed against tongue with a low groan. Roman leaned forward to remove his vest and shirt in quick movements. Their position became a little more precarious as the further they went. Hand raised to her chin, resting on her jawline, keeping her close as his other hand explored her skin.
Sounds outside the room drowned out to the sounds of their breath. Fingers moved down to the thin shorts, curling under the open edges as he moved to adjust her forward over him.
As if they were designed to fit perfectly into the shapes of each other Yessenia moved as beckoned. Any noises, sounds, beyond the doorway she paid no mind to though ideally this would not have been her place of choice to have this sort of momentum in. She was a private person, cautious, and yet this was so carefree and reckless. Hands found skin, fingers glanced muscle as she drank in his lines. Those dark eyes had fallen closed at some point and she lost herself in the sensations.
Her tongue danced across his, coaxing and inviting. The cool air from the green room washed over her heated skin offering a balance of temperature.
Hips would wiggle enticingly, a silent invitation to continue that exploration if he so chose to. It wasn’t like she was hiding anything in her current attire and as long as he was careful with the clothing pieces there would be no halt to the momentum. Those were her favorite pair of shorts.
A thin silver necklace pulled against the skin of his neck, his pluto pendant twisted behind his back in the removal of his shirt. Opening mouth to let in a shallow breath, fingers danced over skin. Tongue crossed over lip.
Skin hot, the hand at her jaw dropped slowly to her breast, thumb teasing at the hardened nipples from the heat or the cool air around them. Lips followed behind, trailing from her lips to her neck, teeth nipping. Sliding the fingers of his other hand under the edge of her flowing shorts, a light graze of skin until he found more thin fabric and warmth. Heat stirring low inside of him just underneath her. Elastic pulled to the side, fingers made small slow circles between warm flesh.
A small part of him, a light voice that he was sure he never heard, in the back of his mind said he probably shouldn’t be doing this. Still, her silent invitations and her own pheromones releasing swirled amongst his senses. His expression and body language showed no sign of the thought, but re-enforced the desire.
Her fingers had danced over that bit of metal but she paid no mind to it. She was wrapped up in the tornado of emotions overtaking her. Overriding her sensibility she knew she wanted nothing more than this right now. Whatever this was. A soft noise of pleasure escaped, fluttering against his lips like the wings of a butterfly against skin.
Those fingers playing at her nipple caused her back to arch. She groaned, hips pushing down against his own as her legs spread, knees driving into the cushion of the couch beneath him.
The way his fingers moved against her skin made her heart flutter. She was his just then, nothing else would impede the purity of this moment until they took things further. “Papi.”
Hips moved forward, into the motion of his hands. Those fingers warmed places, encouraging heat and moisture, nerves fired and she was starting to go crazy with need. Insane.
The sounds of pleasure escaping Yessenia sent desire thumping through his veins. There was something about the groans and moans of partners that turned him on. The way they filled the air like music spinning with pheromones and signalers dragged heat into his base. How she said ‘Papi’ surprised him with how much thirst dripped from it.
Exploring the folds of heat, his hips rolled up to assist the movement of his hand. His other hand skimming over her bare torso and back up to the curve of her bosom. Inclining his body toward her, his lips continued to move over her skin feeling the warmth pulsing just under her skin. Desire growing between them, he was glad the pants he chose had been soft and less confining.
Her body rocked into his motion. Heat flowed through her peppered with desire and lack of control. This was not a first for her - intimacy was a thing she enjoyed in the right situation - but it was the first time she had felt like this about it. She gave no thought to the huskiness of her voice, the depth of it, too caught up in everything else going on.
The way his mouth warmed her skin, the way his fingers move, the way his body responded to her touch. Her own fingers dropped between them as best that they could, eager to free the object of her desire. Craving such a thing was rare like this but she was desperate for more.
Dancing across the hem of his pants, her fingers found the button and the zipper there and she began to blindly ease the fabric away from the skin.
On a couch in the green room, Roman mused that the swing of events towards these moments really pushed him into the Groupie category. Sure, his abilities had something to do with the sudden shift from cold dismissing first reaction to the building heat between, and it could have been considered bad form that his instinctive reaction to aggression was pheromones. For now, he could barely think with the way she moved.
Shallow breathes and low groans, he adjusted the position of his hips to allow her better access in her removal of his pants as a barrier. Gaze flicking down between them, mouth opened as he watched her hands seek out. His fingers continued to tease her, gliding over the lubricated skin before curling in. Not going too deeply, but getting caught up in her movements and sounds.
Her mind moved on a single track. There was only one ending in sight and she craved the high more than anything else. It was powerful, all consuming, overwhelming. Fingers danced across fabric and finally hot skin as she claimed the prize that she sought. No disappointment was to be had considering she knew what she was hunting for. What she was hungry for.
Grip upon the stiff appendage was slight, easy, but determined. A hungry noise escaped her mouth from the depths of her throat and each pump brought her closer to that higher plane of feeling they both sought.
Yessenia’s hips rolled down against his fingers, her legs spreading more as best as she was able to permit as much as he wanted. She was at his mercy utterly and without protest.
A gasp of air followed the hand finding its target. Eyes closing, a groan vibrated through his chest as he let out a huff of breath. Hand caressed her torso, feeling the heat of her body, sliding up into her hair to pull her lips towards his as he stopped nipping at her throat. Pushing his finger deeper into her, his thumb stretching back to tease at the bundle of nerves too many men neglected. His own body moving against her touch in a battle for sensations.
She gasped.
The breath in her chest hitched and her heart pounded. Her eyes had widened. “Papi,” she groaned, shifting a touch forward. She wanted to ride him, for him to be inside, to claim. “Por favor.” Those words were emitted with that built up heat.
Yessenia leaned forward, catching any skin with her mouth that she could intent on leaving a mark of her own.
Fingers moving in and out, he knew what she wanted. She did not have to beg for him to know. His body wanted it just as much, even with her hand working him in almost a forgotten manner. Roman’s mind was stopping him from pushing her against the couch, removing any obstacles, and furthering the heat and need they were both feeling. Doubts about this decision sneaked up from an unknown place. It might have been the green room environment with its dim lights and strong scents.
Skin between teeth elicited a groan and a shiver through his body. There was something about biting that turned off his brain and flooded it with feel good chemicals. Through a low growl and a shaky voice, he muttered, “more.” Slipping a second finger into her, he continued to work her up in that manner.
This was not the ideal place to finish what they’d started. The last thing on her mind was reality - this daydream was overwhelming every part of her rational senses - and yet something about getting more heated in the green room of a club had her hesitating. She didn’t want to rush it, she knew that much, even if the feelings churning through her wanted to get down to it.
The noises he made were like music. Yessenia groaned into his skin, nibbling tenderly at the flesh between her lips.
Her body rocked down against that motion, the second digit offering a new level of heat and desire. The motion of her fingers and hand did not miss a beat, she was too invested now to back down.
Brows furrowed, molten heat stirred just beyond her hand, and breathing became shallower. Every motion of hers was echoed in the motions of his. Veins thumping against her grip. In the moment, Roman could not stop. Stopping would be worse. But he was set on the rest of their clothes staying on and their releasing coming at each other’s hands rather than moving further.
Hand moved to the bare skin of her back, nails curling against soft flesh as their bodies moved against each other. A sharp pain of nerves stretched to their ends, aching for release, flowed through every muscle of his body. Hot liquid started to stir from the end of his length. “Fuck…” He growled out.
Voices could be heard echoing down the hallway that led to the green room, mixing with their moans of lust. His hand moved quicker inside of her, hitting harder, wanting her to find her release before he lost his own.
“Papi!” The word was dropped in a breath of heat. Yessenia closed her eyes, wrenching them tightly together so that the ends creased. Muscles spasmed. Her head was spinning from the overwhelming barrage of pleasure, pheromones, the onset of climax. “Ay,” she groaned, supple lips pressed firmly against the skin of his neck.
Her fingers kept going. The veins beneath her fingertips were defined, she felt as if she could feel the very blood moving through them at her will.
Another few moments coupled with his determination and her frame shuddered, tensed, and Yessenia gasped. Her eyes flew open and she buckled slightly, moisture seeping from her as she slammed into that ceiling she’d been climbing so desperately toward.
Release came quickly after Yessenia started to shudder. The muscles tightening around his fingers and her hot breath groaned against his neck. Both hands wrapped tightly around her as his own rushed through him, the molten lava that boiled in his pit breaking through spilling over between them.
Gasping air, all his muscles relaxed; the ache disappearing quickly. The grip he held around her also relaxed, arms heavy with exhaustion sliding down to her sides. Head spinning momentarily. Shallow, steady breaths. It was so hard to remember to breathe.
“That-” he licked his lips. “-Was unexpected.” Dark eyes blinked, adjusting back to recognize the world around them and the chattering in the hall. Pulling his lip through his teeth, he let out a shaky breath. Sometimes he forgot in the middle of things that it was his pheromones that started it.
Her skin was heated, slick, sticky. A heavy breath left her lips and her eyelashes fluttered with the struggle to regain her composure. The motion of her hand slowed, urging the last bit of liquid from him before she let him go.
A wave of exhaustion hit her, too. Leaning forward she pressed a soft kiss of thanks against his skin before pulling backward. “Mmm.” Her muscles ached from the awkward position.
Finally she was able to come to her senses enough to break free. Yessenia slid backward, out of his grasp and she worked to put herself back together. Dark eyes glanced about, spotting a few napkins on a side table. She moved slowly, gathered a few, and made quick work of cleaning them both up. Then her jacket was on, zipped, and her fingers were putting her clothes back to right.
Dark gaze moved over her form as she got up to grab the napkins. Napkins were not the worst thing he had to clean up with. As soon as he did not look like a mess, Roman was regathering himself quickly. Pants adjusted, rebuttoned and zipped, shirt put back on. He might have fixed his hair, but half the time it looked like he had just had a good fuck anyway, whether he did or not.
Sitting forward on the couch, the cool air kicked on. Clubs had a habit of turning on AC even in the winter because bodies produced too much heat. Licking his lips, he looked around the room. “Got any drinks in here?” Instinct told him to leave. He wanted to. Roman had a tendency to flee once he was fulfilled, no matter the case. With the news mention of drugged drinks, there might have been a little more caution in his mind.
Catching himself in the mirror, his hand came up to ruffled his hair flatter, in case the people in the hall decided to stop inside the room. An easy smile on his lips, eyes catching the lights of the dim room, he leaned over, finger grazing her chin, and kissed her. “Drummers get all the groupies.”
That sticky feeling would evolve into an odd feeling as the liquid dried and to avoid that Yessenia would have used nearly anything to rid her skin of it. A shower would still be necessary but for the duration of the night she could bear to be without. A palm smoothed down the front of her jacket. Her hair was flipped back over her shoulders to get it out of her face. All the while she was quiet.
“Water,” came the nonchalant reply. She lifted her fingers in the direction of a miniature fridge tucked into a corner of the room. A few water bottles, some sodas, a beer or two.
Yessi stayed where she was, one leg curled casually beneath herself again as if she had never left that position. The kiss was welcomed. Her palm touched at his shoulder and the corner of her lips tugged up into a grin, “Maybe.”
Taking the chance to cross the room, he grabbed two bottles of water. Beer would have been nice, cold and heavy in the system, but water made the better choice after losing so much to heated bodies and expelling energies. One held out for Yessenia as he came back to his position on the couch, Roman took his seat next to her as if the intermediate actions were some shared dream between them both.
A sip and he turned his body toward her. “Ever play closer to Shangri-La? It’s better to make bad decisions when there’s more than napkins around,” he teased in a low whisper. The voices still chatted outside, somewhere in the hallway. It sounded like it was venue staff rather than the other bandmates who might be looking for their drummer.
She watched him move, studying the grace of his stride and the length of his frame. He was taller than her - who wasn’t really? Silently she rested against the dingy couch waiting to see how quick he would return. The water was accepted, Yessenia mumbled a soft word of thanks in Spanish before twisting the top off from the bottle.
A sip was taken. She felt refreshed and more like herself. The hazy shroud was beginning to disappear. Her shoulders felt tense again from the weight she carried on them but she made no mention of it.
“We play where we can find gigs,” she offered. If Roman knew of places to play in Shangri-La she the information would be taken. Her eyes found his. That smirk never left her lips. “Bad decisions?” She was not foreign to that. “Do you fight?” It was perhaps an odd question. If he did, perhaps he would enjoy a bar brawl with her and Dante but then she would have to ask Dante before extending the invitation. She couldn’t recall if she had even given Roman her information.
A tongue slipped out over his lips when she questioned his wording. There were many reasons he used the phrase so often. Bad decisions were all he had in his life, and he could make others make bad decisions as well- from the kind one made while drinking heavily to the kind one made because they felt a desperate loyalty to someone. At any rate, he made as many bad decisions as those he influenced in others.
“Fight?” He asked, brows raised and a dark smirk on his lips. “Not in any way that people might find enjoyable.” Though, he supposed he did often make a fight turn enjoyable. The image of a large orgy bursting out in the middle of a fist fight passed through his mind much to his own amusement.
“Why do you ask?”
She was full of bad decisions on her own but that was part of what made her life thrilling; pain and anger made her feel alive and real, taking it out on something or someone made her feel better until it didn’t. And then the cycle began again. She did the right thing, but not always the good thing.
Nodding she kept her eyes on him. “Just curious. I like to fight.” She left it as simple as that.
Another sip from the bottle of water was taken. He was interesting, she would give him that much, enough to make her want to know more about him. Usually her intrigue waned or weakened.
“If you give me your phone I will give you my number, yes?”
Brown eyes studied her face for a moment trying to figure out what she was really asking. “If you want to go out fighting, I could probably show you what I’m made of.” Roman winked at her again. Roman had a defined physique that spoke of a man who kept himself in more shape than just runs in the morning. His interest in gymnastics gave him a flexibility and core strength that leant itself to the only type of fighting he ever really did- kickboxing.
In battle the Horseman had better people for the job of physical fights. His mind travelled into the darkened state that came with Horseman thoughts, and he watched her lips thinking about the uses he could get out of Yessenia and her strength. The petite body, heated and ready had control of her strength to an inch, the battles would be shorter if she were to release that strength, send her in to fight beside Massacre.
Blinking, he smirked and pulled out his phone, handing it off to her. Everyone in it had nicknames with no correlation to their code names or real names, but general associations he had with the person. His ‘work’ phone was never on him but forwarded encrypted messages that were encrypted further in the forwarding. “Of course.”
She doubted he would last too long up against her - she was strong and unbreakable on the surface. Little did she know he’d already penetrated her mind, something she lacked protection for.
“Be gentle with me.” The words were soft, and yet somehow heated. A shrug followed and Yessenia stretched to set her bottle of water aside. Fighting was an outlet she liked once in a while but there were better ways to expel energy.
Lithe fingers took delicately the mobile device and in a few clicks she’d put in her information - her name and her number - before handing it back to him.
Dark eyes flashed with amusement. “I can be very gentle,” he purred in response, expanding the euphoric feeling the hormone dump after sex gave off within her. He let it fade down, only momentarily taking over.
Actual friends would be never ending in his life if Roman knew how to interact with people without his abilities. Sure, he collected other mutants for his own uses. He had more phone numbers than he knew what to do with. But for every one person he did not use his abilities on to attempt to befriend, there was twice as many that he fell into his typical ways. Situations like what just happened between him and Yessenia where she started off displeased by his attempt to chat at her brought out a natural instinct to change that. Then, of course, with how open he was heavy petting or more tended to follow not long after. That was just who he was, as he knew it.
Sipping his water, head lulled back against the couch as he watched her put in her information. Once he had the phone back, he sent her a text that read ‘groupie- Papi.’ Running his finger over his lips, he looked her over. “Should we go out to your fans now? Maybe find Flux? Or we can find somewhere else to be.”
She nearly laughed at his reply but bit gently at her lips instead to stifle the sound. Her words had been a jest - nothing could break her - but the feeling which came after soothed any high emotion. A breath escaped and she offered a quaint smile.
“Ay,” came the response. Her eyes turned to the door and she studied it. “We must go back.” Or at the very least she had to go back. As much as she wanted to skip it, as tantalizing as playing hooky sounded, she knew her heart was in the music and with the fans.
Yessi turned back toward Roman. “There will be more time later.” She would get together again if he wanted. If not, no big deal. There were plenty of people to see and things to do even though she felt bonded to him.
Her hand lifted, extended slightly toward him to take, “Are you coming with me?”
Her unbreakableness was exactly why he took the jest and made it sexual. The fact that he could still break her if he wanted or needed also played in his thoughts. Not every attack came from the outside. Some came deep inside.
Fingers trailed down her back as she turned toward the door. People continued to chat outside of it, obviously had not been listening in while the two were having their fun. Taking a small breath, he looked from her to her hand and back with a smirk on his lips. “It’s the only way to do it,” he joked. Taking her hand, he stood up from the couch, forgetting his water bottle off to the side.
“I should at least say hi to the rest of the band.” He fixed his hair once more in the mirror before gesturing that he would follow her. When she started he would lean against her ear, “We’ll have to find time later.”
Pushing from the couch as gently as possible she used him as leverage to move into a standing position. A moment was taken to straighten her clothes with her free hand, eyes falling to the places she knew needed to be semi-decent. When she was satisfied a nod would come and her gaze would lift again.
Her hand fell from his. The uttered words into her ear had her shuddering and the smirk had found its way back across her mouth. She nodded, moving toward the door.
“Si. When it is less crowded.” It was a promise she would keep as best as she was able.
The door opened and the air from the club venue wafted in. Over a shoulder she looked at him, a hand lifted and a finger crooked at him in a come hither motion before she turned and escaped back into the foyer.