Chapter Text
Shiv makes sure to wear her least attractive dress. She’s not usually the type to unsex herself for the sake of impressing self-important men, in fact she usually finds that kind of faux modesty decidedly un-feminist. However, this conference is going to be hard enough to get through as the token lefty snowflake woman without having geriatric eyes on her tits. Looking good is, unfortunately, just another reason for them to disrespect her. And she’s not sure if she can swallow her rage for two whole days whilst being surrounded by senile Nazi's who, for some reason, think they have the right to decide what she does with her own fucking body.
She lets out a breath as they enter the large conference room. Buzzing with a hundred grey haired suits. Alight with the most important opinions in the world. She runs her eyes over them. No one stands out. All talking over one another. A million dads.
She-
Oh Jesus. He’s here.
Okay, she knew he’d be here. Well, she didn’t know, but she assumed. She obviously didn’t check his social media. That would be insane. Plus, what the fuck does she care if he’s here? He’s no more intimidating than any of the other not-actually-that-smart men in the room.
He’s standing a head above the rest of them, decidedly younger and, she hates to admit it, prettier. He holds the rapt attention of a good few others. All eyeing up their competition. A newer model. Charismatic. Undeniably handsome. Good on camera. Absolutely zero fucks what anyone thinks of him.
The circle jerk bristles with conflicting feelings.
Respect. Fear. Strange, boyish attraction.
His assistant is as assistant-y as they get. Hanging on his every word, yet still in the background. Almost non-corporeal. Moving like liquid. Existing only to serve him. No one else in the room matters to her.
Always the employee, never the wife.
He whispers something to her and off she scurries, and then his eyes lift from his conversation and find Shiv's.
Jeryd Mencken.
Caught, she stares him out for a second. A mean yet perfectly unbothered smirk in her eye, before flicking her gaze away. Unmoved. Uninterested. Just another right- wing prick in a sea of right- wing pricks.
Maybe his eye’s crinkle as she does it, like he knows something and is amused by that knowledge, but she doesn't look back to check. Doesn’t notice a little ping in the pit of her stomach.
She has a sudden urge to put distance between them. She really isn’t in the mood to get into another dick swinging contest with him. He feeds on it.
She follows Roman and Tom through the room, smiling politely at people she has no respect for. God, she really is such a fake. Tom turns back and reaches for her, and she lets him take her hand. She trails behind the two men. Her bother and her husband. They walk freely. Welcome. While she has been forced into this room that is not habitable for her, not safe for her, by her own father.
Sometimes she feels like a doll.
*
‘No, hey, come on. I still call you that.’
Shiv does not smile. The most annoying thing about men like this is that they usually are kind of…funny. Psychopaths are always charismatic, aren’t they? Magnetic, even. That’s how cult leaders get followers, right? Everyone thinks they wouldn’t join one until a handsome and charmingly unhinged man smiles at you and makes you feel special.
‘Blugh.’
‘Huh?’
Fuck, she can’t help herself.
‘What?’ she asks, smiling innocently.
Mencken trains his eyes on her. The back of her neck heats up.
‘No, it’s just, your whole thing.’
‘What’s my thing?’
He can’t fucking wait to find out.
‘Aristo-populist…Medicare for all, abortions for none. Rape is natural, it’s all red pill baby. I’m just so fucking over it.’
Mencken stands over her with that smug fucking look, arms folded over his perfectly tailored jacket.
‘Have you read Plato?’
‘Uhuh? Remind me, what happens?’
‘Read Plato, read Plato.’
‘Oh, don’t want to, don’t fucking want to.’
‘He doesn’t want to talk policy he just wants to yell loudly enough to get on ATN,’ says Salgado.
‘Nah, fuck ATN.’
The room loses sound.
‘No seriously, it is …it’s a pudding cup at 8.15 in the nursing home.’
Shiv hides a smirk. Fucking spot on. Mencken catches it. His face softens ever so slightly.
‘No disrespect…Logan Roy was a legend, but…you know, he’s no longer relevant.’
The group slowly disperses at the sound of Logan being stepped to. Too dangerous. Too spicy.
Shiv doesn’t. In fact, she moves closer. Eyeing him with a friendly smile. This is fun. You don’t scare me. She faux whispers in his ear.
‘I think you just got yourself killed.’
‘Oh, and will you be the assassin? Because that would be hot.’
‘I think I’m paid a little too highly for disposing of vermin.’
‘Is that right, Shiv the shiv?’
She doesn’t smile. Mencken does. Elbows into her space and infinitesimal amount, head tilted down to her.
‘You been working on that one a while?’ she asks, refusing to step back.
Mencken’s eyes positively sparkle. He regards her for a moment too long.
‘I like our little thing,’ he says quietly. He gestures to her and then himself. ‘That we have going. It’s fun.’
‘Oh yeah? To me it’s just boring.’
Mencken smirks at her in a way that tells her this is the thing and that she has absolutely not offended him in any way. His mischievous eyes do not move from hers. There’s a moment, a beat where they look at each other, and some sick kind of shiver runs up her spine.
Mencken has this way of zeroing in on her. The way he leans in, head tilted to catch her gaze, eyes warm in a way that says; we are the only people here.
She makes a noise that should be a scoff but is dangerously close to a laugh, and turns, flicking her hair at him. She struts off, rearranging her face into a neutral expression, leaving him chuckling lightly.
*
Tom has already departed for their room, to deal with yet another wine emergency. Shiv is tired but wired. Bored as fuck yet desperate not to go upstairs yet. She idles near the bar, sipping an almost empty drink, barely listening to the chatter of the remaining stragglers around her.
Mencken glides over, henchmen biting at his heels. He shakes hands and bids people goodbye. Then he turns to Shiv, hands in his pockets.
‘Siobhan,’ he says, extending his arm. She sighs mildly and reluctantly shakes his waiting hand. She feels the cold metal against her palm and blinks. He grins privately at her, his large hands encasing hers.
Her skin prickles. They now have a secret, and she is complicit.
She quickly recovers and eyes him calmly.
‘Jeryd.’
He slides his hands away, leaving her to drop her balled fist by her side and nod at him tightly.
‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Sure.’
He eye fucks her for another few seconds and then he’s gone, followed by his dogs, walking tall. Cool and presidential.
Shiv waits, sweats, squeezing her grip tight. When nothing happens; when no one points or pulls out their phone to film her, she nonchalantly makes her way to the bathroom.
Only inside the cubicle does she relax her hand. She stares down at the key in her palm. A key for this hotel, room number on the chain.
Fuck. What the fuck? How fucking…presumptuous. How…bold. She’s not impressed by it. By the confidence. She’s not sweating from excitement. From the sick thrill.
She should fucking report him for sexual harassment. She should send a picture to his wife. She should end him.
She puts it in her purse.
*
She’s not going to go. She’s not. That would be crazy. This man is a psychopath and a misogynist. And even if she did find him attractive, which she doesn’t, she could never let him win like that.
She could never...
But what if he wants to talk shop with her? Maybe he’s finally recognised that she’s the fucking smart one and he wants to offer her a deal.
She should at least go and see what his pitch is. It would be deleveraging power not to. But she doesn’t want to be alone with him. It doesn’t feel safe. Not that she thinks he’d really…
But it doesn’t feel safe. It doesn’t feel...controllable.
But fuck, it’s kind of exhilarating. This is the shit she craves. The secrets and the snaking and the lies and the badness. It exhilarates her. His unpredictability. His confidence, its...
And he’s soon to be a very powerful man. Having him on her side wouldn’t be a bad thing.
*
She’s doing it. She’s actually walking up to his door. She is greeted by security half -way down the hall, who nod at her once and let her pass. She takes the key and puts it noisily in the lock.
She doesn’t want to catch him...doing what?
She half expects him to be waiting on the other side with his sharks smile but he’s across the room, half bent over the large bed as he plugs his phone into charge and drops it there.
He looks up and when he sees her, he immediately stands straight, his eyes doing that thing, the side of his mouth pulling up.
‘Okay, I’m here. What is this? Are you about to ask me to partake in a bank job? Are you gonna pay me to kill my father? Cause you should have slipped Kendall the key.’
Mencken grins. ‘Well, he was my first choice.’
He walks lazily towards her.
‘But he’s not nearly as fun as you.’
Shiv’s eyes dance across the room. His suit jacket is thrown over a chair. His wallet sitting on the table. A laptop. Books. All these small things that make him seem almost human.
He’s only in his shirt now, his tie a little loose, his sleeves rolled up. Shiv eyes his forearms, the veins snaking up into the soft spot in his elbow. She has the insane image of kissing it.
‘Yep, that’s me, fun gal. Shiv the shot girl. Party Shiv.’
She keeps an incredibly straight face. Mencken’s eyes twinkle. Fuck. How is she supposed to fight someone who likes to fight?
Mencken stills a little way away from her, leaning back on his hip, his hands in his pockets.
‘You used to be.’
‘So, you’ve been studying me, huh? Got yourself a PHD in Shivology from the University of Facebook?’
Mencken chuckles. ‘Naturally. I like to know about things that interest me.’
‘I can guarantee you don’t know anything about me.’
Mencken dances closer. ‘I knew you’d come up here.’
Check mate?
‘Well... of course I did. People love learning about serial killers.’
‘You think I’m gonna kill you and eat you?’
He’s very close now. Shiv tries not to step back. He’s being personable, seemingly relaxed, but there’s an edge simmering under the veneer of calm.
‘Well, I have a Taser in my purse.’
‘Oh yeah?’ he grins. She smiles back. Raises her eyebrows. ‘I would have guessed a knife.’
‘Too messy.’
He’s stooping over her. His stare. It’s addicting. All encompassing. His smell. His height. His jaw. Her stomach is on fire.
He looks at her and his eyes are like lasers.
‘So, are we gonna fuck now, or do you need to pretend a little longer? Cause I have a schedule.’
Shiv barks out a laugh. ‘I just came to find out what you wanted.’
‘You knew what I wanted.’
She pulls in a breath. Why does he make her feel so...untethered?
‘And you still came up here.’
He moves fully into her space, and she bites back a slightly pathetic gasp. He smirks down at her and then noses in, eyes flicking to her lips. She pulls back a little, not enough to really be definitive and he blows a silent laugh out of his nose, his eyes crinkling.
He folds his body into her, slowly, daring. They dance, and with each step, she doesn’t know if she’s moving out of his grasp or if she’s allowing him to lead her to the bed.
The backs of her legs hit the mattress, and Mencken’s nose touches hers. A surge of panic as she almost feels his lips, but then he splays his hand flag across her chest, thumb resting in the hollow of her neck. This time there is no mistaking the gasp.
He pushes her, gently, onto the bed, until she is leaning back on her elbows. She skirts up the bed, still half about to run, as he lazily climbs up after her. He kneels above her, pushing his thigh between hers and forcing her to open her legs.
He smiles into her, his nose grazing her temple. She looks down and is once again hypnotised by his arms, the bicep bulging slightly in his sleeve as a large hand slips over her thigh.
He leans back to look at her. She doesn’t move. Just watches him wide eyed, mouth open to speak.
He holds eye contact as he runs his hand slowly up her dress, still a hint of a question. This is her chance to stop it. They both know it. But she still doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and then his thumb is at her panties, just barely pushing into her clit.
A weak noise escapes her and Mencken’s mouth pushes into his cheek. He rubs his thumb over her lightly.
Her body betrays her, wet already, telling him things that she would never dare admit. But he knows now, already did, and he uses his knee to push her legs open wider, shockingly wide, her tight dress rucking up obscenely.
She allows this and Mencken can feel what’s left of her resolve finally breaking. He slips his nose into her neck, leaving a small kiss under her ear and making a satisfied, cocky little ‘mmm’ sound into her skin.
Shiv’s body does not seem to be under her control. She’s perfected the art of not caring, of not showing her desires to men because then they can take something from you.
And yet here she is, with one of the worst types of men, a man who frightens her, sighing and open legged and gasping weakly at his every, tiny touch.
His thumb pushes harder into her clit, and she knows he can feel her pulsate against him. Fuck, what the hell is she doing? She’s so excited and embarrassed and fucking...alive.
He runs his fingers up and down her panties, teasing, and fuck, it feels good. She wriggles and makes a noise, and he giggles darkly in her ear.
‘Fuck you,’ she gasps weakly.
He’s kissing her ear now, and it’s so good, she never would have thought he’d be soft. He laughs again, quietly, genuinely, then suddenly pushes her dress all the way up under her ass.
She finds herself lying back as he slides from the bed, onto his knees.
He’s so tall that his torso is still sort of leaning over her and she can see that his eyes are laser focused on her pussy. He’s so fucking...attractive. Handsome and assured and fucking dangerous.
She pants softly underneath him, shame rolling through her as he grabs her under the ass and pulls her towards him. Then he slowly kisses up her thigh, eyes up, watching her. She is fixed in his gaze, unable to look away. There’s something about the crisp white shirt. Him being fully clothed when she is half naked. About him on his knees, this big man. Doing…this. That he’s not emasculated by it. That he’s enjoying it. It’s just…objectively hot.
His nose grazes her panties, and she squeaks, awkwardly trying to close her legs in embarrassment. Mencken makes a face; who are you kidding? And coolly slaps them back.
He eyes her pussy again, tongue on the corner of his mouth. Fuck, she’s so exposed…
He settles in and pushes his hand up under her panties to hold them to the side. Then he considers for a moment before quickly flipping his tie over his shoulder.
What the hell? Why is that so sexy?
His breath ghosts her skin, and she is a raw nerve, bucking up into him to get relief.
He nuzzles his face into her, and she lies back, watching him as he finally, barely, flicks his tongue over her clit.
She’s so excited, it feels amazing right away, and she moans openly for the first time, putting her hand over her eyes. She feels him chuckle into her, the smirk ghosting over her skin, before he licks her again. Soft, tantalising. Fuck.
She grinds into him shamelessly, already on the edge. The build- up, the wrongness of it, making every move more intense. And God damn it, he’s so fucking good at it. He eats her pussy torturously slowly, like a man who can control himself. Like someone who’s done this a thousand times.
You’d think men his age would stop trying to shove their faces in there like it’s a cake and they’re the birthday boy, but when it comes down to it, most of them just think they’re good at it. In reality, they’re just older versions of their teenage selves, still bumbling and over eager.
But this…
Mencken is…(puke)…a real man? Like a real, grown ass man?
He grips her thighs in his large hands as she squirms under him, making his own small noises into her pussy. He’s not laughing anymore.
She’s close already, bucking up into his mouth, so much that he eventually flattens a hand on her hip to hold her down on the bed. Fuck, they way he does it. Quick. Easy. Almost annoyed. It gets her even closer.
He can tell and he suddenly slides two fingers into her, pressing expertly on her g-spot. She only has time to choke out a shocked sob before she is coming on his face, gripping his hair in her hand. He moans into her, an open, dirty sound, muffled by her body writhing against him.
When it’s over, she lies, panting, staring at the ceiling. A deep feeling of dread settles in her stomach at what she’s just done.
But Mencken is already climbing back up over her, finally showing signs of humanity. Hair a mess from her hands, eyes dark. His skin is hot and pink as he pulls off his shirt, collar bones jutting and muscles contracting.
Then he slides heavily between her legs. He’s hard in his slippery suit pants, straining against her.
Fuck.
No. This has already gone too far. She can’t -
He’s pulling her dress off. She’s letting him. Then he’s bucking against her heat, growling softly at the clothing still between them. He pulls down her panties a little haphazardly. He’s not in control anymore. He’s panting, rock hard.
This is crazy, she has to -
Her hand is on his bicep, squeezing. Then running over his wide chest. He’s fumbling with his belt.
She’s gripping the hair at the back of his neck. He’s leaning over her, boxers down around his thighs. She’s clutching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
He gasps as he slides in, the first vulnerable noise she’s ever heard him make. His nose is smushed against hers. His breath on her lips. He’s thick. So hard. She squeaks as their pelvises meet.
He stills, hand on her jaw, and breathes. Seem’s to collect himself.
Then his nose is in her neck, and her legs are wrapped around him and he’s fucking her. He’s shockingly tentative. He holds her close, hand in her hair. Grinding, not pounding, just the way she likes. They move together, slowly, little breaths, and he holds it together as long as he can, before he’s making helpless little noises in her ear. And she finally gets it, he actually wants her. And she’s clutching at him, pulling him in, because she wants him too.
When she comes again, he groans, letting his body take over at last. His movements become frantic, desperate noises falling from his mouth. He tries to smother them into her shoulder, biting gently. Then he tenses, going quiet for an unending moment.
When he comes inside her, he lets out a heavy breath in her ear, and she holds him, hot and sweaty and smelling so good. He goes limp on her, and she has the insane thought ‘cute,’ hand still in his hair. Almost petting him… comforting him. He sighs, satisfied and grins into her skin, kisses her neck.
We haven’t even kissed.
Shiv lies, panting slightly, underneath him. Her thoughts swirl. It seems she momentarily forgot who this man is. But now it’s all coming screaming back to her. Her hand goes limp on his shoulder. Everything suddenly feels clammy and cold and excruciating.
Mencken mercifully rolls off of her. He lies by her side, arm touching hers. He doesn’t speak. She wonders if he feels the same unbearable cringe that she does. She’s not used to him being so quiet.
Then he turns to face her. ‘Same time tomorrow?’ Big grin.
She lets out a maniacal laugh and jumps up, fumbling on her dress. He zips his pants and then sits up, watching her. She feels hot and awkward under his gaze.
‘My feelings might be about to get hurt,’ he says, voice even.
She glares up at him as she pulls on her shoes. ‘Don’t get all needy on me.’
Mencken smirks. He stands, walking to meet her.
‘Stop pretending you don’t like me,’ he whispers amiably. His hand hovers over her arm. She moves out of his grasp.
‘See that’s the thing, I actually don’t.’
He smiles but she can see it hit him, a little. Why does she feel a pang of regret? She pats his arm in commiseration, then pulls him into her, as if to whisper. He drops his chin so that his ear lines up with her mouth. Her voice is like treacle.
‘If you tell anyone about this, I’ll say you attacked me.’
She pulls back to look at him, smiling innocently. He regards her calmly, that glint in his eyes. Amused, resigned, impressed, furious.
He says nothing.
She leaves without looking back.
She slides into bed with Tom feeling sick. He’s sound asleep, snoring next to her as she lies awake. Replaying the night’s events over and over again. How could she let this happen? Now he has power over her.
But soon the fear and guilt turn to flutters of excitement as she remembers Mencken’s hands, his neck, his cock.
His…everything.
How good he made her feel.