Rose could feel him, a firm grasp of the back of her head. His long fingers twisted different ways through her snarled locks. Both their breathing was heavy, just heated pants escaping their lips. As much as she internally screamed, no one could hear her cries. As much as she wanted to tell herself that she was afraid, there was a part of her that she deep down knew…that she was not. Another groan passed her lips as his grip tensed even more. He was enjoying her response, her arousal. She loathed herself, her damned weak will as she succumbed to the pleasure. Her head was bowed away from him, her back firmly pressed against his torso. He wasn't going to allow her to look at him just yet, no…no, first she had to realize, realize what she meant to him, and him to her. She only had been too stubborn to admit it, but now, maybe she would. Not even a woman like her, could resist his charms. Whether it be fear or chivalry, eventually everyone gave in, just as she was so close to doing. Just a little more handy work, and ah, he could feel her body slip.
"Oh my god." Her legs weakened, giving him full control of her weight. He removed his hand from her jeans, quickly turning her around in the process. Her eyes gleamed with lust and a hint of fear. The fear widened her gaze as she stumbled back on her unsure legs.
He chuckled, "Far from god." He examined his fingers in the sparse light, they were slick with her excitement. Not what he had been expecting at all, not at all. No, no this was better than what he wanted. A wicked grin broke out on his face, making her tremble. What was his next move? She winced when she heard the crunch of the metal can she had kicked unknowingly.
He yanked her back towards him with the scarf around her neck, sufficiently cutting her oxygen off. "Did I say you could leave? Mhm?" He popped his wet fingers in her mouth, "Don't bite." He could feel her gently sucking on his fingers, tasting her shame. "Tastes good doesn't it?" He took his hand away from her, taking in her reaction. Her cheeks flushed, and averted her gaze to the right of him. He leaned in close to her, whispering something only she would hear, "I can't wait to taste you for myself." Her heart was pounding, she willed herself to push him from her. Not today, she wasn't ready for this, nothing could prevent this...
"Ohhh." She bit her bottom lip in an effort to stop her moaning. He had one hand back where it had previously been a minute ago and his mouth tugging at her exposed nipple.
"I had wondered whether the fight had gone, but there is still a fire within you yet. And I admire that." He continued on with her body, pain flickered across her face for a second. She needed to stop, she needed to fight him. But she was tired, tired of the fighting.
"Ow." She breathed in sharply. The pain had come as a surprise, she had been so wrapped in her thoughts, her sickening pleasure that she hadn't felt him remove her pants, or loosened his own.
"So tight. Almost virgin like." He huffed in ecstasy, he was more excited they had gotten to this stage of their relationship. Never had his body felt the shrill calling to claim another. To make someone, her, writhed beneath him in a way that wasn't connected to his knife. He kept his pace giving her no chance to counter his agile moves. He listened to her throes of pleasure. They were hitting her like waves, over and over again. He ran his fingers across her flushed body, absentmindedly rubbing her scars. Some were hers, some were ones he had given her. Like the three quick cuts on her shoulder blade, her penance for her three day silence. It had taken him all of his self-control not to slice it into her face. But no, he couldn't do that to such a pretty face. An expressive face. Or the long one running parallel to her spine, he hadn't like her attempted escape. Especially not into the arms of his enemies. She let out a shriek from the sudden harden pushes into her. They were almost desperate, pleading for her body, for her muscles to clench around his. She watched him out of the corner of her half lidden eyes, he was concentrated on the scars above her chest. She could feel him caress the raised skin. Her punishment for screwing up a job, she had gotten stabbed. She knew she had messed up when she felt the white hot pain from the knife. Her father had been furious with her failure and for the scum bag that dared to cut her.
"Please, please." Her pleas and incredible hold on his shoulders had brought him away from his thoughts. She was panting hard, each labored breath bringing her closer and closer to her end. He could feel her ready to peak. He slammed his scarred lips down on her mouth with such virocity that it had sent her over the edge. He swallowed her screams, making him no longer able to contain himself. With one more thrust he had spilled into her. His release and her tightening muscles had been oddly satisfying. Never had the timing worked out so perfectly that both participants could get off at the same time. It had to be the sign that they were meant for each other. They were able to challenge each other, to match each other's excitement. And wasn't a stranger to each other's misery it was too perfect. He felt her body be limp once again in his arms, he hadn't noticed before that he had held her the entire encounter. He wiped some of the red paint smudged across her face. Usually he hadn't cared that he had left his own personal mark, but he wanted, no needed, to see her trembling lips. Her flesh shouldn't be covered, no...no he liked the nakedness. It was revealing in its simplest form, her desire, her pleasure, and her pain.
She lazily wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her across the dark floor, the only light guiding them was the shivers of the moon shining through the uneven boarded up windows. He had lowered her gently onto the mattress and flopped down beside her. He watched her interested it her next move, she had removed what was left of her torn shirt, she was completely nude. He had to repress a throaty growl as she laid back down with her eyes closed, oblivious to her actions. She wanted to lay down comfortable and he bit back an urge to take her all over again. His bare fingers danced up her naked flesh, goosebumps raising right where he traced. There was no blankets in the room, he hadn't prepared for his arrival, let alone their arrival. The thought of him taking in a companion, was laughable, almost contiguously laughable. He grinned at the idea. Her presence had been a surprise indeed. He had taken her originally as punishment for Maroni betraying their little deal. He told him he would take something more precious than his wealth, and he had been a man of his word. She had done all to a tee what every hostage before her did, begged, cried and tried to bribe him for a safe passage out. And of course he had given her the same, repeated threats, the same repeated, manic cackles. Then something had changed, she became comfortable. Almost relaxed in his presence. Then his perception, his interest had changed.
He watched her, he studied her habits. She would wrinkle her nose when something disgusted her, or when she was breathing heavy during her sleep, the harsh air would almost whistle between the space in her teeth. How she gingerly tended to his wounds he had received from the Bat-man. Or that slight extra around her middle would stick a little over her jeans, especially when she bent down to sit or pick something off the floor. She was average, but not average. She was bigger, but not biggest. She almost had the curvature of a black or Latino woman, but instead of a warm hue, she was ghastly pale. Her complexion could almost mirror his chalk his white paint. Maroni had thought she was safe, no one had found about her before, but he had underestimated the Joker. Before Maroni had made it, before he had taken over the control of his family, the Italian mob, he had a plump girlfriend. Particularly, this girlfriend had been plus size, and blind. A double whammy. He did things to her that she couldn't see, the good and the bad, and in return she did everything she could for him. They had lived together in relative secrecy. When it was his turn to rise, he knew he wouldn't be able to take her with. There was no way to defend her, from the danger, from the ridicule. No one would take him seriously for a mobster if he had proudly stepped out with a defective other half. He had been ashamed that he had fallen in love with someone with such weak qualities. The kicker was, she had understood this too! She had wished him no harm, no ill will, she had harbored no disgust for the man who was to leave her. She had only requested that he need not to contact her, it would only make it hurt worse. He had respected her wishes, until a year later when he received a letter in all brail. He had sent her more money that she could think to do with, and a promise, to keep their daughter, the only shred of evidence of their relationship, safe. Now how did the Joker find all of this, mhmm…he had recently acquired the keys to a storage unit that the woman next to him had kept all this time. She had hundreds of her dead mother's stuff packed tightly into the snug unit. Moth ridden and slowly decaying in ignorance.
He looked back over at his hand tracing up her side, she was shaking from the coolness of the room. He removed his purple jacket, laying it across the middle of her body, she instinctively curled her cold legs under the material. He observed her taking in a deep breath of his sleeve, of his scent. Even in her sleep she was comforted by his presence, regardless if she knew it or not. Oh, oh, the thought had almost escaped him, he had things to attend to. One glance back one last time before locking the door. He walked over to the area of her forgotten jeans, he had to appreciate his skilled work, he had worked her clothes off of her before she could grasp the seriousness, of the, situation. He turned towards the crate next to him, his hand reaching for what was concealed. Where was the damned…ah yes, there it was. He pulled the recorded camcorder to him. He had been documenting all his moves tonight not sure of the audience in mind at the time, but now, now he had a whole list in mind, himself included. Yes, yes he needed copies, for more than just himself. The clowns jumped at his sudden appearance. He cackled.
"Boss?" He threw the camcorder into one of the clown's hands, grinning madly.
"Who would like to make a trip to Salvatore Maroni tonight? Mhm?" He stared at his goons, unenthused with their lack of enthusiasm. "Okay then, how about YOU!" He threw his knife in between the eyes of the nearest clown, "Hold my knife, and YOU, get to editing this masterpie-cah. Capuche?" Suddenly the whole room was animated, trying not to send the Joker into a blind rage. Joker licked his lips as he watched their forms enter the dark warehouse, they had a lot of work to do, a lot of work.
