#júan interactions

[thekingswench]

closed starter for @semperprotego

Júan was actually at the dinner for a job. Not a con, not a stakeout, but an actual business consultation for a start-up. They were idealistic, dull of hope, and life.

It was depressing that he had to tell the coule their business plan would not work. Getting a drink thrown in his face for his trouble and being stormed out upon was not what he had expected of his evening but, well, that is what happened, sometimes.

Standing from his chair dripping champagne and a rueful smile on his face, Júan did not see the man behind him until he virtually ran into him, a solid wall of muscle, sinew, and bone.

"Perdon, señor," Júan mumbles, holding up a hand and stepping back. "I did not see you. Excuse me, though. I need to go wipe this off before it stains."

[thekingswench]

@stormbrews

If Júan was an exception, than he supposed he'd missed the line, somewhere, because he kept breaking his own rules when it came to Peter. He never set out to, never wished to, but it was inevitable.

Part of the job, the con, sometimes, was to flirt. To get the mark to fall in love, then sweep them for all they were worth. Sometimes, it took a long while. Sometimes, it took very little. For this, Júan would endear himself to their mark - the means did not matter - and then they'd work their magic.

Sometimes that was the hardest part, particularly if there was someone watching in the wings.

Peter slides forward, caging Júan's leg firmly between his own, a whine escaping when Júan tugs at his bottom lip. A grin spreads, slow, across his mouth, humming when Peter slides his hand into Júan's hair. He draws back a second later, tilting his face to look Peter in his.

"He doesn't...if the meeting is in a few hours."

the man was a dream, and peter was by no means ready nor willing to wake up anytime soon. it wasn't often he found himself endeared by anyone, attached to them - yet júan had proven himself to be a worthwhile exception. perhaps it'd be a good idea, to let off some steam before they took someone else for every penny they could get their hands on. flirting was part of the job, yet peter couldn't deny he could be ridiculously jealous sometimes, to the point of it becoming a burden. a danger, even.

"i count on it," he murmurs at the mention of it not being quick, whining softly when he feels his teeth grasping at his bottom lip. his own thighs spread slightly, leaning into júan to capture his knee with his own, pressing himself against him softly. there's a need to be as close as he can be; fingers grasping at the back of his neck. "we might have time. he doesn't seem to have anywhere to be." the comment is uncertain, yet it escapes his lips with very little evidence of doubt. anything to get exactly what he wants.

[thekingswench]

open to: males/females

new muse alert: júan manuel toscar, robin

Júan allows his mind to wander as he walks down the street, a hand in his pocket fiddling with the wad of cash he'd shoved there. This wasn't the best part of town, granted, but he knew that. He had grown up in a place just like this. Admittedly, he was also one of the more dangerous things walking the streets this late at night. What's more, he had people not far behind who would help him at the drop of a hat.

But, no. He did not need help.

In fact, the person following him - and he had followed him down the alleyway now - was no less a threat to him than any normal person was. Which is why he was leant back against the wall waiting for them a few feet ahead, brow cooked and a cocky smile on his face.

"Is there a reason why you are following me? Or am I just that interesting?"

[thekingswench]

@stormbrews

Peter was not a patient man, nor was Júan. When it came to people, to things such as this, Júan was careful. He had to be. Except when it came to Peter. Peter...made him forget, sometimes, just what careful needed to look like.

Sighing through his nose, Júan huffs a laugh, shaking his head as his fingers grip tighter at Peter's side.

"Pedro," he begins, chiding, but does not stop coming in close, sliding a leg closer to Peter's, hand sliding beneath his shirt at the edge, fingertips skittering against soft skin. "It would not be quick." He tilts his face further, finds Peter's mouth, and tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth.

It couldn't be. Peter knew that.

peter hadn't been born with the ability to feel shame built in. he says and does as he pleases, with minimal concern over the outcome. that's not to say he wasn't capable of feelings, he was - he relied more on his hunger and greed than anything else, though.

he hums over the man's response, one he cannot physically deny, even if he'd like to. everyone had the ability to switch sides, to fuck up, to let people down. the man had been let down more times than he'd willingly count, opting to spend that time counting his money instead. "fine. i'll do my very best not to let you down, sir." he all but purrs, head tilting as he feels the other man's mouth against his jaw. it feels all too delightful, his hum all the more appreciative now. "quickly then. before i lose all my ability to do anything else but this."

[thekingswench]

@stormbrews

Despite his stern demeanor, it is very, very hard to keep up when Peter is looking at you like he currently looks at Júan, gaze intense, commentary lewd. He did not know what had made the other man quite so fond of him, or, more likely, less apt to dislike him, but Júan was not going to complain.

As Peter slips closer, Júan slides a hand along his side, up across his ribs, over his hip, and then lets it rest, an amused smirk curling around the edge of his mouth.

"Not yet," he confirms, humming. "But this is a very precarious position we are in, no? Cannot ever say never, all of that," he continues, ever the voice of reason. Despite the fact he would not be opposed to Peter's initial suggestion, not by any stretch of the imagination, it would have to wait.

Still, when Júan leans forward and brushes his mouth along the edge of Peter's jaw, fully aware that this...was not necessarily later.

"hm, i'd rather something else up my ass..." peter was shameless, a shit eating grin sitting against his mouth as he slips closer to the attractive man. of course he knows the job has to come first, he wouldn't have it any other way. however, it didn't hurt to flirt and he often enjoyed jobs more so because of the company that joined him. he's morally grey at best, chaotic evil at worst but that's not to say there weren't some people who'd slipped through the cracks. some people who he found himself fond of, júan an exception to his usual humanity hating perspective. "have i ever let you down?" he counters the man's hard-to-get facade, chewing at his bottom lip as he lies in wait for a response.

[thekingswench]

@richlust

"I am not playing at anything," Júan corrects, arching a brow higher up toward his hairline, the corner of his mouth lifting higher, showing teeth. "But I could. If you do your part correctly hm? Then -"

Moving so he can stand to his feet, Júan goes to circle around the other man, fingers fixing the cuffs of his shirt where they'd come unrolled. He hated when they did that, thought it looked sloppy. He sighs through his nose, shakes his head, but there is still an amused air to his movements.

" - then perhaps I can play. But only after, and only after you all do what you are supposed to, si? And you sound like you have a stick shoved up your behind."

"oh, you're playing hard to get i see - i like it." there were not many people who got to see this side of peter. the more relaxed, more playful side. however there was something about this other man that somehow lured it all out. even his shit eating grin doesn't bother him, which not many others could say (if any at all). "i say that. me." he beams proudly, brows waggling as he shifts closer to the other man again, eyes hyperfocused on his own. they were electric, hypnotising even. "you're not doubting us already, are you? c'mon. he'll fall in love with you in an instant, trust me."

[thekingswench]

@richlust

Júan knew this was a bad idea. It was. Peter wasn't part of the crew. Technically, Júan wasn't even supposed to be doing this anymore. He had an actual job...which he still used to 'help' people (sometimes not always legally) but it was a job.

The fact it involved a rich asshole and possibly sex, however, was...tempting. Very tempting.

With a groan, Júan scrubs his hand down his face and then leans heavily back into his chair. "Fuck. Alright. One job, that is it. Ay Dios...why am I letting you talk me into this?"

open to: w / m/ nb (25+ -- age gaps welcome). plot: up to you. is it murder? is it conning? is it sex? with peter cooper, the possibilities are endless. possible connections: another grifter, best friend, old friend, siblings best friend/partner, best friends sibling/partner/parent, protege made on: beta.

"oh come on, it might be fun..." peter wiggles his brows, biting into his smirk as he watches them closely, curiously, attempting to work out just how tempted they actually are. "you know you want to..."

[thekingswench]

@richlust

Good boy. Fucker.

Peter leans forward, like he has a big secret, and Júan lets him pretend like he does. A scowl tugs at the skin between his brows, a droll look on his face. Then, he shifts, a subtle look in his eye that hints at mischievousness. Leaning in, Júan says, "That was only one time, papi. And I do not think you will get that lucky again, hm?"

Júan leans back again, a shit eating grin curling the edges of his mouth upward.

"You think that we are, Peter. Do not get ahead of yourself. And who says 'bellend' anymore," he teases, crossing his arms over his chest.

peter smirks, biting into his bottom lip as he shamelessly checks out the other man. "good boy." he teases, as his hand raises to cradle his cheek, leaning in as if to whisper some secret. "because you want to fuck me so bad," he whispers then, before pearly whites expose themselves, his smile is blinding. even if it's not entirely accurate, he can't help but enjoy to tease júan and he'd like to live in a state of delusion where that's remotely possible. "we're going to be so rich, he's such a fucking moron. and a complete bellend, which will only make it all the sweeter."

[thekingswench]

@stormbrews

Peter might have been jealous, but he...might not have been delusional. No, this had followed them around for so long now it was like a weight, a heavy bar, across Júan's shoulders. These cons - they were easy, but they were also quite difficult, particularly with the mire of himself bleeding into the part he had to play.

Sometimes, a lot of the time, Júan did not like the person he was when this happened. It tasted too bitter on his tongue, took him, sometimes, too long to relearn himself. They had discovered it was easier with Peter there, playing another part, acting as another cog in the machine.

But it was also difficult, at times painfully so, too.

"Sí, but whoever said you knew how to behave yourself? It certainly was not me," Júan remarks, breath catching in his throat as Peter's teeth catch his ear, hips rocking into his own. "Point in case."

But, he had asked the man a question, and he wouldn't back away from it. He knew what he wanted to do, what he shouldn't do; having a clear head for this type of shit was important but...he never would be clear-headed if they didn't get this out of their system, now. Especially because it was Peter.

"No. Probably not," he says, cryptic, and then hooks a figure into the waistband of Peter's trousers and pulls him closer, the hand on his side rucking up his shirt.

@stormbrews

If Júan was an exception, than he supposed he'd missed the line, somewhere, because he kept breaking his own rules when it came to Peter. He never set out to, never wished to, but it was inevitable.

Part of the job, the con, sometimes, was to flirt. To get the mark to fall in love, then sweep them for all they were worth. Sometimes, it took a long while. Sometimes, it took very little. For this, Júan would endear himself to their mark - the means did not matter - and then they'd work their magic.

Sometimes that was the hardest part, particularly if there was someone watching in the wings.

Peter slides forward, caging Júan's leg firmly between his own, a whine escaping when Júan tugs at his bottom lip. A grin spreads, slow, across his mouth, humming when Peter slides his hand into Júan's hair. He draws back a second later, tilting his face to look Peter in his.

"He doesn't...if the meeting is in a few hours."

[thekingswench]

semperprotego​:

Ryker couldn’t help the small, surprised chuckle that slipped from his lips at the man’s comment. He ushered the younger man toward the bar and signaled for the bartender’s attention. “Thank you, though I’ve had no work done. The nose was set a few times, but it just healed pretty well on it’s own.” Ryker ordered himself a new whiskey on the rocks and then motioned for Juan to get what he liked.

“I’m Lucian Ryker, but the way.” He finally said by way of introduction. Most people knew him or of him but he didn’t care either way if they did or didn’t.

“Again, I’m sorry you’re evening ended like that. Hopefully I can make it better in some way. Disappointed or not, I hate to see people act like that when others don’t deserve it.” Ryker was nothing if not a nice guy and a gentleman when the situation allowed.

@semperprotego

Hearing the other man had not had work done was a surprise, though Júan did not say as much. It may have shown on his face, though it was only a slight down turn to his brow, a tilt of his head. Still, he enjoyed surprising people. "Well. Whoever set the nose did a good job, then," he finally says, amending his statement with a quick grin.

Júan had wanted to clean himself up, wanted to see if he could get the alcohol out of his shirt. Being led toward the bar was not what he'd had in mind. However, he would not complain. Instead, he rolls up his shirt sleeves and hums before ordering a scotch.

"Júan Toscar," he offers, not seeing any harm.in providing his real name. No one knew him with that name in the criminal underworld beyond his hermanito, and he would take it to the grave. "And it is alright, really, Lucian. People are going to react badly when their ideas are shot down. Though I do not wish to repeat it, I suppose I understand their...frustrations?"

[thekingswench]

semperprotego​:

Another day, another dinner. Being an upstanding member of the business community these days, Lucian Ryker found himself at a lot of dinner functions. He didn’t hate them necessarily, but they did tend to get old. Having come from the nothingness of foster care to the world of the rich and arrogant, Ryker often felt like a misfit in some ways, though he’d worked his ass off to earn his place at the top.

He adjusted the tie he was wearing, whiskey in hand as always, when his eyes caught a small commotion. A gorgeous man had just had a drink thrown in his face and well, Ryker felt bad. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he moved closer, only to have the man turn and run into him.

Ryker’s own drink sloshed but didn’t spill and he simply offered a friendly smile and held out the handkerchief. “No apology necessary. Are you alright?”

@semperprotego

The scent of whiskey was strong in Júan's nose and, when he steps back, he realizes two things. The first is that the stranger he had bumped into was a handsome stranger who liked whiskey. The second was that he held a handkerchief ( a sweet, antiquated little gem almost no one carried arounf anymore ) out toward Júan.

Arching a brow, Júan takes it between a thumb and forefinger, unsure why the man was being kind. Júan had not grown up around a lot of kindness. He would have been perfectly fine attempting to dry himself off with some napkins and the blow dryer in the men's restroom. Glancing away, down at the handkerchief, Júan finally nods.

"Yes, I am. It was just a misunderstanding. My clients did not want to hear that their business plan had flaws. They were very young, very idealistic about it. Which," he pauses, twisting the handkerchief in his hand and dabbing at a section of his shirt with a frown. "While not necessarily a bad thing, ended with liquor in my face."

He shrugs a shoulder, then. He had worse done to him by better people. For worse done by even worse people. Júan would survive a little impromptu baptism.

"Thank you, though. For your concern, I suppose. And the handkerchief." This is usually where he would leave the conversation, no matter how pretty the person may be that he was speaking with, but found himself unable to move. His fingers twist the handkerchief instead, and he rocks back on a heel, waiting for his feet to let him move.