Darius made a disgusted groan as he quickly wiped his face. Right when the other turned his back, he got to his feet and sprinted at the other. He was not going to let the other walk away the victor so easily. He leapt at the man, trying to wrap his arms around his middle to send him face down in the dirt where the dirty lawyer belonged.

Hahaha, that would show that damned Carrington who was boss! Zechariah gloated as he headed toward the exit-

Only to hit dirt faster than he could scream.

Darius felt the elation of triumph as he held the man beneath him against the lawn and grabbed his hair to hold him there. "I think the gentry look even better on top." He laughed and enjoyed the small success he had in his life. "Now apologize! It's the least you could do!"

Oh God! He swore he was smashed halfway into the grave by that behemoth’s heft. Zechariah gasped and sputtered into the dirt, struggling to catch his breath. He was nearly about to apologize just to get him off of him!

And then Darius opened his mouth.

Oh, God. Zechariah was going to literally choke to death on his own pride.

Luckily, the bastard beneath him had beautiful hair he'd give his left foot for, so he was gentle enough not to rip it out as he pulled enough to make him lift his head. "Just apologize and all of this could be over!"

Zechariah shifted slowly, agonizingly underneath him.

“… weigh a ton,” he rasped out instead.

Darius was gasped and frowned more. He wasn't about to crush the other though and opened his legs to straddle the other man but pushed his knees into his ribs. "I'm not the ass you seem to think I am. You on the other hand..."

There was a grunt as knee connected with rib in an entirely unpleasant way. He could breathe, though.

For now. Before he dug himself in deeper.

“You seem to like being on it,” he snipped.

Like that.

Darius felt very pleased with himself and let his hair go. "Maybe I do. It's a great place to be." He said clueless, just enjoying the moment he was able to best someone.

Was he flushed from the dirt scraping his face? From struggling for breath? From what he presumed was an open come-on in the middle of this golf field?

… If there was any golf field to do that in, to be fair, it was this one.

Zechariah looked sharply back in disbelief, then furrowed his brow as he ran equations. He considered the question much of his circle considered when faced with crushing loneliness or another man (any man) who fancied men: how many drinks would he need to bed him?

“… Please get off of me,” Zechariah finally sighed.