Don't Stop

The night was winding down as the early morning hours approached. "I'm borrowing your PA," Saint nodded toward the priest.

With a Sobranie perched between his fingers, Nico exhaled a plume of smoke that curled across the neon lights. He cocked an eyebrow, "Roman? There's nothing much for him to do here anyway. He can go," he said as if Roman's presence—or absence—barely made any difference.

Saint nodded his thanks, striding over to Roman, who was wiping down glasses with a focus of someone determined to be useful. Roman looked up at him with those mismatched eyes of his, brow deeply furrowing.

"We're heading out."

"My shift is not yet over," Roman continued wiping at glassware.

"I know, I already spoke to Nico on your behalf."

Roman glanced over at his boss. When Nico gave a small nod he placed the rag on the counter and quickly fell into step beside Saint as they exited the club.

Outside, the crisp of pre-dawn kissed both their faces a nice shade of matching crimson. Luckily, they didn't have to stand out in the cold for way too long as valet pulled up with the Brabus.

"Here you go."

Saint accepted his car keys from the valet in exchange for a couple of hundreds. "Thanks again, Tino."

"It's always a pleasure, boss," so called Tino grinned at his big tip of the night. "Have yourself a good one."

"Thanks. You too," Saint then turned to Roman. "You good to drive?"

"Only had one drink," he mumbled. "Why?"

That was good enough for a response because Saint tossed him the keys. "Drive."

"Where are we going?" Roman asked as he caught the keys mid air.

No response.

Once inside the Brabus Saint cranked the AC and fiddled with the GPS. "Just follow the lady's voice."

Roman gave a small shake of his head yet he still steered the car, leading them into the quiet outskirts of the city. Roman's grip on the wheel tightened with every passing mile, glancing over at Saint out of the corner of his eye, trying—and failing—to read him.

"You think loudly." Saint complained. "It's making my head hurt."

A soft chuckle vibrated Roman's chest. "I think loudly?"

"I can practically hear your thoughts all the way from here. So spill, whatever it is."

"You need to stay away from alcohol, Saint."

Annoyed, Saint shook his head followed by a series of No's. He searched Roman's mismatched eyes and face. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make it sound like I don't know what I'm talking about."

Roman managed to open his mouth to say something then closed it. He knew Saint wasn't wrong. Tonight was... something else. Clearly the man could tell something was bothering him but Roman wanted to push the last eight hours of his life aside. At least for now.

Eventually, the car veered off the main road onto a narrow gravel path, the tires crunching as they came to a halt near a secluded lake. The water shimmered under the pale moonlight, perfectly still, untouched by the day's first breath.

As soon as the GPS lady announced they'd arrived at their destination Roman let the engine idle a bit before cutting it off, his eyes darting around. "So... did you change your mind about the whole 'not killing me' part?"

Saint laughed. He stepped out of the car without answering, leaving the soft thud of a door closing behind him.

Frowning, Roman followed him. "What are we doing here, Saint?" his question hung in the air as he saw him slowly unbutton his shirt.

"You sound nervous," shrugging off the expensive fabric, Saint then tossed it over the car hood. His fingers moved to his belt buckle next, the metal clinking softly. "Do I make you nervous, Roman?"

When you look at me like that... yes, you do.

Roman's pupil's grew big as he realized what Saint was doing. "You're kidding, right?" he sounded incredulous. But Saint was already stripping off his midnight tailored pants, his movements unhurried as if he owned the world's clock.

Naked and completely unfazed by the goosebumps breaking on his skin, Saint kicked off his shoes looking lost in thought, almost nostalgic, "Nothing beats an early morning swim."

"You have a whole lake at Sandfort Estate," Roman tried to reason. "Why this lake specifically?"

"I used to come here as a kid," Saint admitted with a sigh. "Ciro—my father—he'd bring us over during the summers. We have a cottage no so far away from this place."

Roman did not expect that. Saint never talked about his family, so the mention of his father caught him slightly off guard. "That sounds... nice."

Saint let out a chuckle fully poisoned with bitterness. "It was one of the only times he wasn't..." he paused, glancing at the water before continuing, "Wasn't pissed drunk or beating the shit out of Nico and I or my mother. When he was sober, he'd pretend like we were this perfect little family."

"When was the last time you were here with him?" Roman asked softly.

"I was fourteen. After that, things went downhill fast. Ciro was drinking more, getting violent every other night. Nico and I... we learned to stay out of his way whenever we could."

Roman stared, his own body tensing at the image Saint was painting. He couldn't imagine what life must have been like for him and Nico, growing up with a father like that. And yet, here Saint was, standing by the very lake where some of his only good memories with his father were made.

"Is that why you came here? To remember the good times?"

Saint scoffed, shaking his head. "No. I came here to remind myself why I despised him."

"You don't hate him anymore?"

"He's dead."

Oh.

"How... how did he die?"

For a while Saint's eyes stayed fixed on the water, as if searching for answers in its depths. "I assure you he didn't die in a way he deserved," he finally said. "And that's my only regret. That it wasn't me who took him out. Nico... he needed me, and I didn't do much to protect him from that bastard. I was too scared to fight back."

Roman stayed quiet for a moment, he'd never seen Saint like this—so raw, so vulnerable. "You did protect him, you being there with him through it all," he said. "Maybe not in the way you think... but you did."

"It wasn't enough."

The world around them morphed into a background canvas, so silent except for the soft lapping of the lake against the shore and the distant whoosh of the wind. Roman stepped closer to Saint letting their foreheads almost touch.

"You can only do so much, Saint," his hand found Saint's and intertwined their fingers. "You were just a kid who also needed protection and the fact that the man who was supposed to protect you from this world was the one who caused all your nightmares is beyond unfortunate."

Their close proximity calmed something inside Saint. "My father was a troubled man. But sometimes..." his voice grew quieter. "...I wonder if I will be worse than he was."

Without a word Roman pressed his lips against Saint's forehead. "You're not your father," he whispered. "I won't let you become him."

Saint stood still, as if grounding himself in the feeling of Roman's lips, the reassurance he hadn't asked for but desperately needed. Slowly he started to pull back, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

"Well, let's see if you can save me from myself," he said before sprinting toward the lake, feet barely making any sound over the sand.

Blinking, Roman watched him, his mind still trying to catch up to the emotional shift. "Saint, what the hell? You ruined a moment!"

"This is the best part of the moment!" Saint yelled back.

Without his permission Roman's eyes traced the lines of Saint's bare form. The way the moonlight danced across the taut muscles of his body was some sort of divine injustice, the man was too perfect to be real. He swallowed hard, fingers aching with desire to reach out and touch. But before he could store away the beautiful picture Saint made, he dove into the water with a loud echoing splash, his body a blur of motion.

"Jesus Christ," Roman muttered, rubbing a hand over his face as he heard Saint surface, laughing like a total maniac.

"It's freezing!" Saint shouted, breath coming out in short bursts and wet onyx hair clinging to his forehead. "Are you just going to stand there and stare!"

"I'm not getting in, who knows what's in there," Roman crossed his arms. "You're going to get your wound infected!"

Saint laughed, the sound echoing across the lake. "This is not my first rodeo on how to survive a gunshot, nurse O'Connor. Don't be such a bore!" he mocked. "Come on! Live a little!"

Roman's eyes softened as he watched Saint float on top of the water. He looked so free. Peaceful even. He himself was still reeling from everything that had happened earlier that night. From that weird conversation he'd eavesdropped between Nico and Sandro, the phone confrontation, to the unexpected discovery of a shady surveillance room...

But there was something about the way this man was looking at him, a challenge in those hazel eyes that he couldn't just ignore.

"Fuck it," he muttered stripping down to his underwear. Just as he was about to plunge right in, Saint's voice stopped him.

"All the way," he said. "Take everything off."

"I don't know..."

"Humor me, just this one time."

Well, here goes nothing.

With a slow exhale, Roman let the last of his defenses drop. The cold stung his bare skin as he dove into the water, the shock of it taking his breath away. He resurfaced, spluttering and cursing.

"You're insane," the water was definitely below zero degrees Celsius. "This is insane."

"Have you done this before?" Saint drifted closer.

"Skinny dipping?" Roman's voice was tight, the closeness of Saint's equally naked body was setting his whole system into overdrive. "Heck no."

"What a shame," Saint's hands settled on Roman's trimmed hips in an attempt to steady himself in the water. "With a body like this?"

"I'm scared of my dick becoming fish food thank you very much and I'm going to kill you for making me do this."

Saint lowered his gaze to the dick in question, a small frown etching his forehead. "Judging from what I see, your dick is way bigger than a worm so I doubt fish would be confused about that."

No he just didn't... Roman choked on a breathless laugh. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Saint."

He responded by plunging deep into the water. Before Roman could comprehend what was going on, he felt something grab his left leg, yanking him deep under. Roman fought and came up for breath coughing and sputtering, wiping the water from his face as he glared at the culprit.

"What if I drowned, asshole?"

Saint's lips quirked into a sly grin as he swam closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. "Then I'd be here to save you."

Roman's breath hitched at the skin on skin contact, every cell of him was now hyper-aware of Saint invading his personal space.

"I think I might actually have a hero complex when it comes to you." Saint mused.

"A hero complex? Please," Roman snorted as the water rippled around them. "More like a death wish if you keep on dragging me into shit like this," his teeth clattered even more. "God, I'm freezing."

Without waiting for a response, Roman withdrew from Saint and quickly swam to the shore. As he pulled himself out of the water, heavy droplets cascaded off his olive skin in thick rivulets and Saint's eyes followed each one of them to its destination.

His back flexed as he shook some of the water off his body, muscles rippling with each step across the sand, and Saint was having a hard time (pun very much intended) tearing his gaze away. Saint's eyes drifted lower, appreciating the curve of Roman's ass as he walked. Saint was also cold but it was nothing compared to the heat now pooling down to his groin.

Sensing eyes on him, Roman shot a glare over his shoulder. "Stop staring at my ass!"

Water dripped from Saint's hair as he waded out of the lake with a lazy smirk. "Why? It's a nice ass."

Roman snorted, rubbing his arms to chase off the cold. "Yeah, well, you were freezing in there too, huh?"

"Not really. Just didn't want to miss the view."

"You're such a perv."

"Mhm." Saint caught up to him. "Only for you," he slid his arms around Roman from behind, pulling their bodies flush together.

Roman thought he might have stopped breathing. Every every inch of Saint pressed against him, he could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the hard lines of his muscles which fit perfectly against his own. Saint's lips brushed the shell of his ear. "Let me warm you up before you catch your death."

"Tell me you're not drunk," Roman breathed.

"I'm not drunk," Saint chuckled lowly, his lips now ghosting over the back of Roman's neck. "The water sobered me up pretty good." his fingers curled tighter around Roman's waist, pulling him even closer, if that was even possible.

"Because if I'm going to touch you," Roman's voice came out all sorts of wrong—molten, deep and raspy. "I don't want you out of it. I want you to feel everything."

"Well, fuck, isn't that romantic?" Saint's hand found its way to Roman's chest, his fingers lightly caressing against the cold skin. There was an ugly jagged scar just below the right pec, probably earned from a knife. He traced around the bumpy edges, his lips hovering near Roman's ear as his other hand continued its slow descent. "Good thing I'm very much sober."

Roman's body tensed as Saint's hand moved lower, trailing over the planes of his prominent v-lines. Saint's hardening crotch was nestled perfectly between his ass. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes," a tortured whimper.

I can feel everything.

Roman's breath faltered as Saint threatened to go even lower. His touch was maddeningly slow and each stroke of his fingers felt like he was mapping out every inch of his body.

Every graze sent a shiver through him, not from the chill but from the way Saint seemed to know exactly where and how to touch him, like he'd been studying a Masters degree at an Ivy League just for this moment.

"Is this okay?" Saint's fingers grazed over a bulging vein on Roman's growing erection, making it visibly twitch. "Tell me to stop if you don't want this."

Don't you even dare Santino Bertinelli.

"I need you to use your words, sweetheart."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't stop," Not now, not ever. Roman's eyes fluttered shut, the lingering cold from the lake melting away under the warmth of Saint's hand. "I need..."

"What do you want?"

"Saint..."

"You gonna have to tell me exactly what you need."

Saint began to stroke him nice and slow using just the right amount of pressure to drive him out of his mind. Roman thought he'd burst there and then. He wanted this feeling to last.

"I need your mouth..." Roman sounded completely wrecked. "Please, Saint."

He didn't think Saint would do it. But there he was, one of the most dangerous men in the country slowly falling down on his knees, like he was about to offer a prayer—to him.