The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place for Janus, though certainly not without a few headaches in the day. The derailed brunch included. There was more he wanted to cover, ideas to verbalize and information to gather, but so be it the ticking time bomb exploded before he had a chance to do so. Janus was no stranger to Venus’ emotions and had witnessed the scars of history that still pained her to this day. The fall of Rome had struck its Mother the deepest, and that made her all the more valuable to Janus. Venus had a debt to Rome and would submit to her own suffering for millennia if it meant returning her home to its former glory. Janus wouldn’t admit to ever considering the weight of her drunken words, but it was undeniable that what she said rang true for them all in that room, herself included.
There were many truths revealed to him that day, some more irking than others, but in time they’d all become a means to an end. There was never a god or man Janus had lost a battle of strategy and wits to; it hadn’t been in his realm of possibility, and he wasn’t about to open it up to failure now. The muscles in his hands tightened around the steering wheel’s leather, and his foot pressured the gas, allowing the 720 to roar through its acceleration as the irritation rippled through him. Clare Delune was interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone, and he answered with a clipped greeting, or tried to anyways but was promptly cut-off.
“$23,000,000.”
The second roar of the car and lurch of the sudden acceleration was the only indication of the fury that burned in the stone-faced god. The vehicle grew quiet, icy from the humanity that seeped out of Janus as he pondered every possible means of getting what he wanted without playing these games. How easy it’d be to stretch his influence and money into other avenues to teach the money-hungry mortals manners, but the image of a scowl unfitting for such pretty lips flashed in his mind and promptly ended that brief line of thought.
“Jan-“
“I heard you, Oliver.” The tone of his voice was no less than an angry snap, and he released a sigh, rolling his shoulders as he eased up on the speeding and stretched his fingers out before he damaged the impeccable pieces of machinery he rode in. “You’re sure you saw the right number of 0s?”
Oliver responded with a nervous chuckle, “Yeah… all six of them, I counted it ten times before calling you. And he wants it in 48 hours-- cash, or he starts an auction.”
It was Janus’ turn to issue a chuckle, though the sound of his was far from nervous, it was a dangerous sound that issued an uneasy groan from Oliver who immediately started babbling.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, he shot the price up when he found out Julius of Initium was the interested buyer. The asshole pulled one over on me! Me, the ultimate con artist getting outconned, I can’t believe it and now it’s going to cost you the key to the she-“ “Have Olivia transfer the funds from the business account.
“Excuse me? You’re going to give that bloke millions of dollars for the keys of a shed on the outskirts of Seattle? There aren’t even houses in that area worth a quarter of that! He’s obviously onl-“
“I’m well aware Oliver. The avarice of humans truly knows no bounds, and apparently neither does their ignorance.” Janus pulled into the parking spot of his destination and killed the engine, giving another sigh “Pull out the cash tomorrow and set up a time for us all to sit down and meet. A nice high rise restaurant, throw my name around if you have trouble getting a table. I can’t talk any longer, Oliver, I have other matters to tend to.”
“ Oh, you’re a brave man. Hopefully you keep your balls after tonight, give an extra big smooch to Miss Si-“ idiot
Janus brushes off the front of his suit coat as he exited the supercar. Among the surroundings the luxury vehicle stood out like a sore thumb, in fact, just his existence in the less than exquisite place seemed out of sorts. Nonetheless, aside from the Roman’s shared estate, this humble apartment complex was something of a second home to him, despite the verbal berating he often gave it.
Ascending the flight of stairs he stood outside apartment 3C, there was a brief moment of hesitance as he rose his fist, what’s the worst that could happen? Janus rapped his knuckles against the metal door in quick succession before taking a half step back awaiting the door to open.
It did open a beat and a half later, allowing a small peek into the apartment that must have had a grandmother for an interior designer. She appeared then, peering around the door with her hair mussed and dressed comfortably in an oversized shirt plus ill-fitting boxers that certainly weren’t hers. Despite her warm surroundings and welcoming appearance, she took one look at Janus and promptly shut the door in his face.
“The audacity.” She murmured to herself, grabbing a pillow and tucking herself onto the couch. Her unfinished papers lay forgotten on the table and she glares at them as if they should answer for her irritation. Oh, she would let Janus in eventually. Eventually. But she wanted to hear him beg to her door, first. She made sure to turn the TV slightly down so she can hear his pleas, and oh how he better plead.
Janus released the breath he had been holding, expecting a more violent reaction to his surprise visit, but perhaps he had spent too much time around Venus and her interactions with her ex-lover. So the door in his face was greatly appreciated before it turned into an object of annoyance. A part of him hoped she’d perhaps gotten over the… agreement he didn’t uphold in days past, but this reaction was an indication of anything but that.
“I drove across town just to spend my night with you, don’t let some last-minute RSVP changes sour our fun.” Janus’ voice barely rose in volume, his pride not daring to let his voice echo into the night sky. There was no discernible movement or sound from the other side of the door and he let out an annoyed grumble, “I understand a man is only as good as his word, and despite the circumstances that led to me giving you my word, I still went back on it. So allow me to make amends, little crow.”
Inside the apartment, the Morrigan was rolling her eyes, unimpressed and unsurprised. This man - no, god - really favored his pride over their reconciliation.
In truth, it wasn’t just that he never showed up that really made her angry. It was that he told her he would; Janus knew how worried she was about Hephaestus and how shaken up she had been. In all the long years she had lived, the millenniums and eons, she had never encountered a snipped thread. It was unnatural and it frightened her enough that she sought Janus out the same night to help her sleep. The Conclave was an important issue for her and she had hoped Janus being there would somehow help manage the other pantheons, just his presence would give her the strength. And he didn’t show. It occurred to her, then, that she couldn’t count on him.
Still, the Morrigan guesses this is the best she’s going to get from the other god. The door cracked slightly and she peeped up at him. She scowled, at him and because even looking at him had her yearning, “Is that the best you have, Janus?”
“Morrigan.” Her name rolls off his tongue in a way only he’s able to manage, an effortless tone of casual desire that draws a smirk to his lips. Janus steps forward, his palm pressing against the door, but not with enough pressure to push his way in, he wouldn’t dare risk pushing the mood into an unsalvageable territory, “I’m certain you’re quite familiar with the ‘best I have’, but maybe it’s due time for a refresher?” The suggestion wasn’t subtle as he leaned against her door frame. Janus’ eyes trailed the parts of her he was allowed to see through the small opening of the door. The sight of the goddess of War donning his missing pair of “lucky” boxers brought warmth to the corner of his lips, “Before that why don’t you let me in while you check your email?
The Morrigan eyed him up and down before letting him in with a grumbled, “Fine.”
Janus smiles victoriously, though makes sure to tone it down, as he steps into the cozily decorated apartment. The warmth that greets him demands his thick suit coat be hung near the door, and his frequent visits have his shoes left at the door. Nimble fingers work at the tie around his neck and the top buttons of his shirt as he wanders into the homey living space just behind the Morrigan.
Curious now, the Morrigan sits on the couch and picks up her phone, flipping through the apps until she arrives at her emails. She swipes through the many emails she has from students, resolving to answer them later when she’s less annoyed and busy when she arrives at a mysterious email from Janus titled ‘I won’t coerce you into this one’. Inside the email was a listed location with seating charts, catering, the whole nine yards, and it was all for the next Conclave. A small smile that she tried to push down came to her lips.
“It wasn’t coercion.” She defended, crossing her legs and looking at Janus with a small teasing smirk. Even though, and the Morrigan will only admit this to herself, she might have been coercing him at the time. In her defense, he was loving it.
Janus is more than familiar with the glint in her eyes, the trademark smirk of his own finding its throne, “I believe the circumstance you engineered to get my RSVP certainly fits the bill for coercion..” Janus stops in front of the Morrigan, a caress of his hand along the side of her face has her chin tilted up towards him, “Not that I minded in the least, it’s cute to see you put up a fight, little crow.” Desire entangled with a hint of belittlement weaves into his tone, the iciness he carried in his gaze all day had melted away into pools of a warm, welcoming ocean, and his thumb ran a gentle path along her bottom lip.
The Morrigan parts her legs and pulls Janus closer to her by his belt loops. She looks up at him with her innocent doe eyes and she can feel her heart dancing in her chest. Only Janus has ever made her feel alight like this, like a blazing fire in a blizzard. He was unpredictable to her, but maybe she could rely on him. It feels like it's the twenties again with the hesitancy of trust weighing on her shoulders. This is Janus though, he would never hurt her. He would be there if she needed him, wouldn't he?
“Coercion implies I had some control over you, Janus.” The Morrigan replies cheekily, biting the tip of his thumb, “Are you saying that your little crow can make the big bad Roman lose control?"
There’s a fire igniting in him, one only she had the means to spark. Janus bends at the hip, a storm of lust brewing in his eyes as his hand slips from her face to her throat, gently but not without command he moves both of them further against the couch. A knee bent on the cushion of the couch flush against her keeping her thighs parted, his face inches from hers, hovering above her, and moving closer yet, his lips ghosting against hers with each whispered word, “Would you like to see just how much control I can lose, multum magna meretrix?”
The Morrigan pressed into Janus, letting herself become encompassed in everything that was him. From his scent to the way the pads of his fingers pushed into her skin. The rational bit of her mind said she has to work in two days and makeup is expensive; the other part of her mind wished his fingers would leave bruises. “I want to see you come undone, macushla.”
A deep chuckle rumbled in the depths of his chest, those words swirling out of her pretty mouth appeased him. Only in these heated moments, in the comfort of a home that was not his did he ever unravel. To many gods, Janus appears cold and unmoving like a statue, the warm flesh of his was but a placebo effect to make them believe he was anything but an unfeeling god. Which he often believed of himself too, but it was moments like this, in the heat of passion did he hear the own beat of his heart in his ears and the desires of man urging him to fall further.
“Allow me then, to grant your wishes, little crow.” Janus’ words are cut short by a heated meeting of their lips. With practiced ease, Janus takes the Morrigan in his arms, lifting her from the couch and starting his path to a much-needed end to a long day.
The Morrigan wraps her legs around Janus, falling easily into their practiced dance. Her arms come around his neck and she peppers kisses along his collarbone; all of her misgivings melted away under his hot touch. He may have made a mistake, but he will always fall back into her arms. Her heart yearns to claim her arms as his home, that it is where he belongs; the rational part of her brain tells her to be careful, Janus belongs to no one.
Now is not the time for such sobering thoughts.
Janus takes her to her bedroom and the Morrigan leans backward, seeking her bed and taking Janus down with her. She’ll wrap around him so tight, envelope him, until all he knows is her arms, if only for this moment. Nails scrape down his body as she impatiently tugs at his shirt and belt, determined to feel him under her skin.
The Morrigan struggles with his belt, her fingers shaking and fumbling with excitement and anxiety. Their dance, their battles, are nothing new to the Morrigan; every time, though, the Morrigan feels herself light up with nervousness like a maiden. Only Janus has this effect on her.
“Janus, I need you.” She pants, giving his belt a frustrated yank when it doesn’t give under her trembling fingers.
“And you shall have me, Morrigan” Janus unbuckled the belt her finger had clumsily navigated. The expensive accessory fell to the ground at the same moment his luxury brand trousers met the same fate. Everything once on his body amounted to a price tag equal to that of the monthly rent for an apartment such as this. The same notion was reflected in the rest of his life, expensive cars, designer brands, luxury housing, his life was filled with riches, and to him it all meant nothing. The only thing Janus ever desired was spread before him, yearning to be taken and claimed as his. A wolffish grin appeared on his lips, his fingers pressing into the skin of her soft thighs, avarice controlled him now. Morrigan was his, and he’d take all she offered to him. Starting with the body that writhed and quivered beneath him.