Work Text:
“All set?” Roman asked, holding the door of the lorry open for Iris.
She climbed in and then hesitated, looking like she was going to argue against him coming again. He shut the door, gentle but quickly before she had a chance to speak. He was not interested in having that discussion again, he could only give her the same lie so many times. If she continued to pester him he was bound to snap and tell her the truth, and how exactly would that go - see, actually Winnow, I cannot bear the thought of you being in danger for even one second, and so I am coming along to keep you safe because I am almost certainly falling in love with you. - she would either laugh at him or hit him, maybe both.
He perched on the side step, as promised, and did his best to look unconcerned as he gripped the rickety side mirror with one hand and the door handle with the other. He was already regretting this decision and they weren’t even moving yet. He grimaced, thinking how embarrassing would his obituary be if he fell from the lorry enroute to the battlefield - Roman C. Kitt. Killed in the Gods war, not by any feat of bravery but by pining after a woman he had gone to great lengths to make hate him. - it was just as well, he had always known his own idiocy would be his eventual demise. The lorry roared to life and he tightened his grip as the engine’s vibrations tickled up through his legs building a somewhat inconvenient sensation between his legs.
The sun beat down on them as they started down the poorly maintained western road out of Avalon Bluff. Roman supposed that was preferable to rain pelting down against him as he held on for dear life. His hair whipped around his face like mad and he knew it was going to be a hopeless tangled mess, unimportant in the larger scheme of things, they were headed to the front lines after all, but still it was hard for him to let go of his vanity, especially knowing Iris was right there on the other side of the window. They finally stopped after what felt like ages but was apparently only half an hour. His hands ached from gripping the metal so tightly and his legs felt like jelly from the constant rattling. He felt the window move as Iris rolled it down and then prodded his chest.
“It won't do us any good if you break your neck on the way to the front. I don’t mind sharing the seat.” She hesitated a breath before adding, “That is, if you don’t mind me sitting on your-”
“I don’t mind.” He responded, far too quickly, cutting her off.
He sounded too eager and he silently chided himself as he hopped down from the side allowing her to open the door. He was just happy to be able to sit in the relative comfort of the cab for the rest of the two and a half hour ride. It had nothing to do with the thought of her on his lap, nothing at all. This was a terrible idea.
Iris stood hunched over in the small cab and Roman climbed in behind her. He set his bag on the floor next to hers and then reached forward guiding her down onto his lap. Having his hands wrapped around her hips made his heart jump into his throat, and again he thought how reckless and insane this idea had been. She perched stiffly on his thighs, her back straight and rigid, keeping as far from him as she could while still seated there. Gods, she wanted nothing to do with him and all he wanted was to be closer.
“Iris,” he said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper, “You’ll go through the windshield if you don’t lean back.”
She stiffened. “I’m fine.”
Roman sighed, a combination of annoyance at her insistence on continuing to put herself in danger and annoyance at his own desperate yearning. - She hates you, you idiot. You made sure of that when she started at the Oath Gazette. - The sweetness of their letters was making it difficult to remember that, while he knew she was the one writing, she did not know that he was Carver. Meaning any affection that was building between them was one sided. But then again, she had run to him that first day he arrived in Avalon Bluff and thrown herself over him to protect him. Was that just an instinct, would she have done that for anyone?
It took a little less than ten minutes on the horribly bumpy roads for Iris to relent and relax back against Roman. She fit against him perfectly, like they were made to be pressed together this way. He slid his arm around her waist, holding her to him to keep her from flying forward into the windshield. That's what he told himself at least, holding her snugly against his chest was pure chivalry, not something he had been dreaming about for months, even though he had been.
Slowly she relaxed against him and a contented warmth spread through his chest. Her hair tickled his cheeks as she swayed and bounced with the movement of the lorry, he closed his eyes breathing her in. The road started to get rougher and the gentle swaying of Iris on top of him became a more aggressive jostling. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes tighter, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. It was suddenly too much, her perfect body pressed against him, her ass shifting with each bump rubbing against him, - please gods, do not let me lose control now - Roman prayed, to whom he wasn't sure but he needed someone to hear him. It was hopeless, he felt his body betraying him even as he prayed with a fervor he had never attempted before. This was going to be two hours of pure and exquisite torture.
They hit a particularly harsh rut and he clenched his jaw fighting the slight moan that escaped him. From the corner of his eye he noticed the captain look over at him, his concerned gaze quickly shifting to amusement as he took note of the predicament Roman was in.
“Am I hurting you?” Iris asked, shifting her weight.
She was either terribly innocent or the worst kind of sadistic, and they way she shifted made everything worse. He felt himself grow against her movements, surely she was going to notice soon and be furious.
“No.” He ground out. Every ounce of his self control narrowed to keeping himself from pressing into her so he could show her just how hurt he wasn't.
“Are you squinting Kitt?”
Her playful taunt almost sent him over the edge, did she know what she was doing to him? Was this her revenge for his winning the columnist position? - maybe I should try to outshine her articles for the Tribune, just to see what further punishment I can earn - this train of thought was the furthest from helpful.
“Do you want to turn and see for yourself, Winnow?” he murmured, barely managing the snark with which he delivered their usual banter.
She huffed and settled back against him, inadvertently grinding into him as she did. He managed to keep the moan down this time by biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. The captain smirked at him and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He was blushing, for gods sake, what was she doing to him? He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed. He threw his head back against the headrest staring diligently up at the ceiling of the cab willing his heartrate to slow. The remainder of the trip was an exercise in futility. Try as he might he could not get himself completely calm with her body pressed against him. He needed a distraction, he needed some privacy, he needed her to turn around and straddle his lap so he could kiss her and show her exactly what a mess she had made of him.
It was late afternoon by the time they reached their destination, and Roman was both relieved and devastated when she slid off of his lap and climbed out of the lorry. He needed to talk to her, he couldn’t keep on this way, pretending he wasn't here for her. Pretending he wasn’t falling for her. Because he was. He was hopelessly in love with this woman, and there was nothing at all he could do about it now. He sighed and climbed down behind her following her into the chaos.