Fic: Simple enough (Sid Rothman/Ned Stax)
Jan. 30th, 2014 12:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
linndechirTitle: Simple enough
Fandom: Mob City
Pairing: Sid Rothman/Ned Stax
Rating: R
Words: 1891
Warnings: none
Summary: Sid shows up at Ned's place without much of an explanation, but it's not like he needs many words to get what he wants.
Author's note: If you guys haven't seen Mob City yet, you really really should. Damn that show is good. Damn Robert Knepper is hot. Also, have I mentioned in the recent past how much I fucking hate thinking of fic titles? Because I really do.
Ned heard the knock on the door just as he stepped out of the bathroom. A quick look through the peephole showed him Sid Rothman standing on his doorstep, alone for once, without Terry shadowing him. For a moment Ned considered getting properly dressed before opening the door, but he doubted Sid would appreciate the wait. He ran his fingers through his wet hair to keep it out of his eyes before he opened the door.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, unable to think of a good reason why Sid was even here. Sid only gave him a brief look before shouldering his way past Ned inside; waiting to be invited wasn't really his style. He seemed calm, but then again he always did. Ned was fairly sure hell would freeze over before Sid Rothman lost his cool. He closed the door with a sigh, watched as Sid looked around briefly. He'd been to Ned's place once before, but that … Ned probably shouldn't think about that.
“I'm going to see Ben later tonight, but if there's anything I should know -” he started, but interrupted himself when Sid shook his head.
“Ben's going to be busy for a while. He's with his new girl.”
Ned nodded, still waiting for an explanation, but Sid didn't look like he was going to offer one. He stood closer than he would have had to in the spacious corridor of Ned's apartment, and for a second Ned found himself staring at Sid's mouth, the toothpick clenched between his lips as it so often was – Ned still wasn't sure if that was just an odd habit or Sid trying to quit smoking –, the flash of white teeth when the corner of Sid's mouth twitched a little. His smiles were as hard to read as everything else about him; he could smile like that just before killing someone, but the same smile had been on his face the last time he'd been here, and that had ended with Ned bent over his kitchen counter and a pleasant soreness that had stayed with him for a day or two and made keeping a clear head around Sid anything but easy.
Not the best thing to think about, not with Sid actually here. Ned still could barely believe that this one time apparently hadn't changed Sid's opinion of him in the least. Maybe Sid truly couldn't be bothered with what other people considered right or wrong, but Ned would rather not test his luck again. He gestured vaguely in the direction of the living room.
“Why don't you help yourself to a glass of scotch while I get dressed?” Sid had seen him in less than pants and an undershirt last time, but Ned still felt uncomfortably naked. He wasn't the nervous type, but there was something about Sid's eyes that always got to him, too cold to be anything but unsettling, too smart for just an average thug.
Before Ned could turn away Sid stepped even closer, crowding Ned against the wall, and the way he moved made it easy to forget that Ned probably could have shoved him aside easily if he wanted to. He didn't think he wanted to.
“No need for that just yet,” Sid said, his voice low and so deep it sent a barely suppressed shiver up Ned's spine. He couldn't tell if that was a threat he heard in Sid's voice or a promise, decided that one probably sounded just like the other from Sid's lips. Ned had to force himself not to look down, not to look weak, because fear would just bore Sid, and more importantly because Ned was not fucking scared of Sid fucking Rothman and the fact that he'd let Sid fuck his brains out less than a week ago didn't change a thing about that.
“And why's that?” he asked calmly, like this was a business meeting and not possibly the most stupid thing Ned had ever done, giving Sid that challenging look like he was just daring him to back off now. As if Sid ever backed off unless he absolutely had to.
Sid took the toothpick from his mouth, let it disappear in a pocket, his eyes never leaving Ned's as if to let him know that he didn't miss how Ned was watching him. Ned didn't bother to hide it. Sid didn't bother with an answer. Didn't touch him either, not yet, just let his gaze wander over Ned's bare arms, his shoulders, his throat. The way Sid looked at him, Ned could almost feel the memory of teeth on his neck, of hands closing around his wrists and holding him down. But he figured the only thing worse than Sid thinking he wanted this way more than any man should would be Sid thinking he was too scared to get what he wanted, so he reached between them, opening the buttons of Sid's suit jacket before hooking two fingers under his waistband to pull him close, just those last two inches before Sid's chest touched his and his lips almost inevitably found Ned's jaw.
Sid didn't kiss him, not as such, only brushed his lips over Ned's cheek as if to taste his skin, breathe him in, like appreciating a fine wine before drinking it. This time Ned couldn't help but shudder, not when he felt that amused, knowing smirk against his jaw, not when rough fingers with bruised knuckles slipped underneath thin fabric to touch his sides, a warm, hard touch that was all want and little concern for what Ned might like, and it was better than any soft caress from girls who tried so desperately to please him, girls he only slept with because that's what you did, girls who were the furthest thing from his mind when Sid's breath crept over his neck and his ear.
“You still wanna get dressed?” Sid didn't even bother to make it sound like a question, it was just a small concession he made to the fact that Ned wasn't some hustler he could do with whatever the hell he wanted, if only because Ben might mind if his favourite new lawyer ended up in a ditch because Sid had turned him into a problem. As far as Ned was concerned, Sid was actually helping him with the one problem Ned had no way of fixing without risking a lot of trouble.
So Ned just cocked his head to the side, baring his throat to sharp teeth and the scratch of evening stubble, and he felt more than heard the soft laugh Sid puffed against his neck.
They didn't make it to the kitchen counter that time; all it took was one rough shove before Ned found himself with his face pressed against the wall, lips on his neck and a hard cock against his ass with still too many layers of clothes in between, fingers twisting into wet hair and yanking his head back, and Ned was really damn grateful that Sid was not the most patient man in the world, that his idea of a good fuck consisted only of fucking without fucking around.
And something was probably wired wrong in his head that he got off on how much it hurt, that he wouldn't have needed Sid to do anything more than fuck him rough and hard against that wall even if Sid had been willing to do more than that, but frankly Ned couldn't bring himself to give a damn.
He needed another hot shower after Sid was done with him, while Sid somehow managed to look barely more dishevelled than he would have after shooting someone. Ned came back from the bathroom to find Sid lounging on a chair in his bedroom with a cigarette between his lips and a cup of tea steaming in front of him, and somehow Ned wasn't surprised that it took the bastard about ten minutes to start behaving like he lived here.
“Don't usually see you smoke,” he observed casually, and somehow the small bruises that were starting to form on his upper arms made him feel far more comfortable about not being dressed properly than he'd been before. He lit a cigarette of his own, then opened his closet to pick a fresh suit.
“I quit,” Sid said between two deep drags. Ned gave him a pointed look over his shoulder. Sid merely shrugged, and Ned would be the last person to blame him for wanting a smoke after getting some. He slipped into a clean shirt just as Sid walked up behind him to take him almost gently by the shoulders and turn him around. Ned tensed up in surprise, but all Sid did was to start buttoning Ned's shirt, slowly, meticulously, like a task that required much greater care than Ned would have put into it. Ned stayed quiet, smoked his cigarette and followed Sid with his eyes when Sid picked a tie from the closet, then changed his mind and switched it for another. Tied it with lingering, precise movements, an almost surreal contrast to how he had touched Ned before, and Ned only watched him curiously. There should have been something downright servile about Sid dressing him, if Sid hadn't been so utterly in control, if he hadn't been touching him like something that he'd made his anyway.
Ned helped along quietly, tucked his shirt into his trousers, raised his arms a little when Sid closed the cufflinks on his sleeves and helped him into his vest and his jacket, held still while Sid closed every single button carefully and smoothed out the fabric. By the time Sid was done his cigarette had burnt down, ash crumbling onto his jacket, and Ned carefully wiped it off with the back of his hand.
“What was that for?” he asked finally when Sid made a step backwards and looked him over. He seemed quite pleased with himself, his gaze lingering on Ned's shoulders, his wrists, his hips, before meeting his eyes again.
“We should go see Benny. If we're lucky, he's done by now,” Sid said, and of course he was not the type to justify himself for whatever he felt like doing, not when he didn't even seem bothered about screwing men. Sid dropped the cigarette stub in the ashtray by the bed, clenched another toothpick between his teeth and disappeared into the corridor.
Ned shook his head and followed him, picked up his hat on the way out. Sid was leaning against his car, waiting, and Ned tried to find any indication in his eyes that this would be a problem after all, but Sid looked like nothing had happened, the satisfied little smirk on his face the only sign that he'd done anything more than pick Ned up to give him a ride to the club. For a moment they stood there staring at each other, Ned still a few steps away from the car, one second uncomfortably stretching into two, five, ten.
“You going to say something?” Sid asked.
“No. You?”
“No need. Get in the car.”
Ned did. Neither of them said a word on the way to the Clover, but their silence was far more relaxed now. If Sid made things that simple for him, Ned was not going to make them complicated.
Fandom: Mob City
Pairing: Sid Rothman/Ned Stax
Rating: R
Words: 1891
Warnings: none
Summary: Sid shows up at Ned's place without much of an explanation, but it's not like he needs many words to get what he wants.
Author's note: If you guys haven't seen Mob City yet, you really really should. Damn that show is good. Damn Robert Knepper is hot. Also, have I mentioned in the recent past how much I fucking hate thinking of fic titles? Because I really do.
Ned heard the knock on the door just as he stepped out of the bathroom. A quick look through the peephole showed him Sid Rothman standing on his doorstep, alone for once, without Terry shadowing him. For a moment Ned considered getting properly dressed before opening the door, but he doubted Sid would appreciate the wait. He ran his fingers through his wet hair to keep it out of his eyes before he opened the door.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, unable to think of a good reason why Sid was even here. Sid only gave him a brief look before shouldering his way past Ned inside; waiting to be invited wasn't really his style. He seemed calm, but then again he always did. Ned was fairly sure hell would freeze over before Sid Rothman lost his cool. He closed the door with a sigh, watched as Sid looked around briefly. He'd been to Ned's place once before, but that … Ned probably shouldn't think about that.
“I'm going to see Ben later tonight, but if there's anything I should know -” he started, but interrupted himself when Sid shook his head.
“Ben's going to be busy for a while. He's with his new girl.”
Ned nodded, still waiting for an explanation, but Sid didn't look like he was going to offer one. He stood closer than he would have had to in the spacious corridor of Ned's apartment, and for a second Ned found himself staring at Sid's mouth, the toothpick clenched between his lips as it so often was – Ned still wasn't sure if that was just an odd habit or Sid trying to quit smoking –, the flash of white teeth when the corner of Sid's mouth twitched a little. His smiles were as hard to read as everything else about him; he could smile like that just before killing someone, but the same smile had been on his face the last time he'd been here, and that had ended with Ned bent over his kitchen counter and a pleasant soreness that had stayed with him for a day or two and made keeping a clear head around Sid anything but easy.
Not the best thing to think about, not with Sid actually here. Ned still could barely believe that this one time apparently hadn't changed Sid's opinion of him in the least. Maybe Sid truly couldn't be bothered with what other people considered right or wrong, but Ned would rather not test his luck again. He gestured vaguely in the direction of the living room.
“Why don't you help yourself to a glass of scotch while I get dressed?” Sid had seen him in less than pants and an undershirt last time, but Ned still felt uncomfortably naked. He wasn't the nervous type, but there was something about Sid's eyes that always got to him, too cold to be anything but unsettling, too smart for just an average thug.
Before Ned could turn away Sid stepped even closer, crowding Ned against the wall, and the way he moved made it easy to forget that Ned probably could have shoved him aside easily if he wanted to. He didn't think he wanted to.
“No need for that just yet,” Sid said, his voice low and so deep it sent a barely suppressed shiver up Ned's spine. He couldn't tell if that was a threat he heard in Sid's voice or a promise, decided that one probably sounded just like the other from Sid's lips. Ned had to force himself not to look down, not to look weak, because fear would just bore Sid, and more importantly because Ned was not fucking scared of Sid fucking Rothman and the fact that he'd let Sid fuck his brains out less than a week ago didn't change a thing about that.
“And why's that?” he asked calmly, like this was a business meeting and not possibly the most stupid thing Ned had ever done, giving Sid that challenging look like he was just daring him to back off now. As if Sid ever backed off unless he absolutely had to.
Sid took the toothpick from his mouth, let it disappear in a pocket, his eyes never leaving Ned's as if to let him know that he didn't miss how Ned was watching him. Ned didn't bother to hide it. Sid didn't bother with an answer. Didn't touch him either, not yet, just let his gaze wander over Ned's bare arms, his shoulders, his throat. The way Sid looked at him, Ned could almost feel the memory of teeth on his neck, of hands closing around his wrists and holding him down. But he figured the only thing worse than Sid thinking he wanted this way more than any man should would be Sid thinking he was too scared to get what he wanted, so he reached between them, opening the buttons of Sid's suit jacket before hooking two fingers under his waistband to pull him close, just those last two inches before Sid's chest touched his and his lips almost inevitably found Ned's jaw.
Sid didn't kiss him, not as such, only brushed his lips over Ned's cheek as if to taste his skin, breathe him in, like appreciating a fine wine before drinking it. This time Ned couldn't help but shudder, not when he felt that amused, knowing smirk against his jaw, not when rough fingers with bruised knuckles slipped underneath thin fabric to touch his sides, a warm, hard touch that was all want and little concern for what Ned might like, and it was better than any soft caress from girls who tried so desperately to please him, girls he only slept with because that's what you did, girls who were the furthest thing from his mind when Sid's breath crept over his neck and his ear.
“You still wanna get dressed?” Sid didn't even bother to make it sound like a question, it was just a small concession he made to the fact that Ned wasn't some hustler he could do with whatever the hell he wanted, if only because Ben might mind if his favourite new lawyer ended up in a ditch because Sid had turned him into a problem. As far as Ned was concerned, Sid was actually helping him with the one problem Ned had no way of fixing without risking a lot of trouble.
So Ned just cocked his head to the side, baring his throat to sharp teeth and the scratch of evening stubble, and he felt more than heard the soft laugh Sid puffed against his neck.
They didn't make it to the kitchen counter that time; all it took was one rough shove before Ned found himself with his face pressed against the wall, lips on his neck and a hard cock against his ass with still too many layers of clothes in between, fingers twisting into wet hair and yanking his head back, and Ned was really damn grateful that Sid was not the most patient man in the world, that his idea of a good fuck consisted only of fucking without fucking around.
And something was probably wired wrong in his head that he got off on how much it hurt, that he wouldn't have needed Sid to do anything more than fuck him rough and hard against that wall even if Sid had been willing to do more than that, but frankly Ned couldn't bring himself to give a damn.
He needed another hot shower after Sid was done with him, while Sid somehow managed to look barely more dishevelled than he would have after shooting someone. Ned came back from the bathroom to find Sid lounging on a chair in his bedroom with a cigarette between his lips and a cup of tea steaming in front of him, and somehow Ned wasn't surprised that it took the bastard about ten minutes to start behaving like he lived here.
“Don't usually see you smoke,” he observed casually, and somehow the small bruises that were starting to form on his upper arms made him feel far more comfortable about not being dressed properly than he'd been before. He lit a cigarette of his own, then opened his closet to pick a fresh suit.
“I quit,” Sid said between two deep drags. Ned gave him a pointed look over his shoulder. Sid merely shrugged, and Ned would be the last person to blame him for wanting a smoke after getting some. He slipped into a clean shirt just as Sid walked up behind him to take him almost gently by the shoulders and turn him around. Ned tensed up in surprise, but all Sid did was to start buttoning Ned's shirt, slowly, meticulously, like a task that required much greater care than Ned would have put into it. Ned stayed quiet, smoked his cigarette and followed Sid with his eyes when Sid picked a tie from the closet, then changed his mind and switched it for another. Tied it with lingering, precise movements, an almost surreal contrast to how he had touched Ned before, and Ned only watched him curiously. There should have been something downright servile about Sid dressing him, if Sid hadn't been so utterly in control, if he hadn't been touching him like something that he'd made his anyway.
Ned helped along quietly, tucked his shirt into his trousers, raised his arms a little when Sid closed the cufflinks on his sleeves and helped him into his vest and his jacket, held still while Sid closed every single button carefully and smoothed out the fabric. By the time Sid was done his cigarette had burnt down, ash crumbling onto his jacket, and Ned carefully wiped it off with the back of his hand.
“What was that for?” he asked finally when Sid made a step backwards and looked him over. He seemed quite pleased with himself, his gaze lingering on Ned's shoulders, his wrists, his hips, before meeting his eyes again.
“We should go see Benny. If we're lucky, he's done by now,” Sid said, and of course he was not the type to justify himself for whatever he felt like doing, not when he didn't even seem bothered about screwing men. Sid dropped the cigarette stub in the ashtray by the bed, clenched another toothpick between his teeth and disappeared into the corridor.
Ned shook his head and followed him, picked up his hat on the way out. Sid was leaning against his car, waiting, and Ned tried to find any indication in his eyes that this would be a problem after all, but Sid looked like nothing had happened, the satisfied little smirk on his face the only sign that he'd done anything more than pick Ned up to give him a ride to the club. For a moment they stood there staring at each other, Ned still a few steps away from the car, one second uncomfortably stretching into two, five, ten.
“You going to say something?” Sid asked.
“No. You?”
“No need. Get in the car.”
Ned did. Neither of them said a word on the way to the Clover, but their silence was far more relaxed now. If Sid made things that simple for him, Ned was not going to make them complicated.
