Disclaimer: Own nothing. Was merely curious about Hatter's sexual escapades because I think he's probably had a few, drug-dealer that he is. Pre-Alice.
Reviews are nice but not a requirement, of course.
It's been a slow day.
And it's a Wednesday — no one takes drugs on Wednesdays.
Hatter sits in his big white spinning chair and spins idly. He tosses his tan-coloured hat in the air and watches its path until it lands back on his head. He hums to himself. He finishes his cup of tea (real tea, the leaf-brewed stuff, not the instant fix stuff).
Hatter is very bored. Then he hears foot steps. He grins his insane, boyish grin and twirls around to face—
Oh. Oh hell.
In front of him is a beautiful woman scantily dressed in a burgundy boob-tube, with long legs that go on forever past the cut of a skin-tight skirt, also burgundy, blood red netting connecting the two and showing off her flat, pale stomach. She wears thick make-up and has very long, very blonde hair. 'Um.' He says, and then gulps. He tries again. '…want some Tea?'
She smirks. 'Got any Ecstasy?'
He gets to his feet. 'Sure do. Right here. Please don't—' Too late. She stands on the grass. He sighs. He plucks a bottle filled with deep purple liquid from the shelf and offers it to her. His hands are trembling. 'That'll be—'
'I haven't got anything on me.'
He retracts the bottle, pulls it to his side and away from her. 'That's a problem.' Hatter tells her and sits down; showing her there's no dice.
'My fiancé will pay for it. I'll make sure.' She holds her hand out for the Tea.
'Who's your fiancé?' He finds himself giving it to her.
She sneers at Hatter. 'Like you don't know.'
He blinks and smiles. 'Nope.' and he pops the p. 'No clue.' He doesn't like to associate himself with royalty so he pretends he doesn't know who she is. He may play for both courts a little but this girl is strictly red. A hard Heart.
She arcs one perfect eyebrow. She smiles provocatively, catching him off-guard. 'Half of this was for my fiancé…' she begins, and then starts to unscrew the lid from the Ecstasy. Hatter watches her warily. '…but maybe I'll give it to someone else.' And she pours half of it into his empty cup where he had just been drinking normal tea.
'Ah.' Hatter says. 'Ah, see, well. No. I don't— I sell the Tea. I don't drink it myself.'
Both eyebrows go up this time. 'What, never?'
He shrugs. 'Yeah, pretty much.'
The woman pushes the cup and saucer towards him. Her eyes are smoky. 'Drink it. Let's see what happens.'
'Listen, no offense lady, I mean you're gorgeous and all, but I don't appreciate my customers trying to—trying to— to...have it off with me.' He wants it come out firmly but in reality it's a pitifully weak attempt at trying to make her stop flirting with him.
Because whilst he babbled, she had leant forward across his desk, giving Hatter a remarkably clear view of her cleavage. It's very distracting. 'Don't worry, I'll drink it too.' She assures him breathily.
Hatter is tempted, actually.
Because… this no drinking rule of his — it's more of a guideline really. And, he thinks as he reaches for the cup and the woman grins, who follows guidelines anyway?
Then he downs the purple liquid and it's like swallowing fire and lights burst behind his eyes and — here we go, he thinks — it's that out-of-body experience. It's that Oyster feeling.
The woman leers like a mad person. She winks at him. She tucks the bottle into one of her knee-length boots and begins to walk away.
'Hang about.' Hatter croaks. A strange, tingling sensation overcomes him. The Ecstasy is kicking in already. He hasn't had a fix in so long, he's forgotten just how instant instant really is. He gets up from his chair, feeling light and blissful. But he still knows something is wrong. 'That— that wasn't our deal. You gotta drink some too…' Hatter stumbles after her.
She grabs him by his shoulders and shoves him up against a pillar. He gibbers momentarily before she kisses him. He goes limp.
The only thought he can grasp for more than a second is oh god yes. It's hardly helpful.
She sucks his bottom lip into her mouth before answering, 'Shouldn't be so taken in by a pretty face. I said I'd drink some. I never said I'd drink it with you.' Hatter has not the brain capacity to say anything. He dribbles a little bit and she smiles and wipes it away and nips the corner of his mouth. He feels higher than a kite.
And then she is sliding down his front. The swell of her breasts brush past him, and he draws in a sharp breath. She kneels down, resting on his shoes in order to protect her bare skin from the dirty tiled floor. He barely notices the weight. His head is swimming and he wants to giggle. And then take this girl and shag her until she can't walk straight.
He fears though, that she may have the upper hand. And she's also quite important in the Queen of Hearts scary inner-circle and she'd just accuse him of taking advantage of her and then…
Well, and then off with his head.
The women pops open the bottom buttons of his shirt and tugs the waistband of his trousers down a bit, exposing bare flesh. Resting her chin against his stomach, she cranes her neck back, smiling up at him teasingly. 'Say my name.' she orders, her breath warm on his skin.
'Duchess.' he gasped out obediently. 'You're betrothed to Prince Jack Heart.'
Her smile breaks open, exposing a row of immaculate, white teeth between her full lips. 'See that, now?' she says, laughter in her voice. 'I knew you knew who I was…Hatter.'
'You know my name.' It's like when that girl you loved when you were five-years-old knew your name. It's that kind of joy. That kind of, for want of a better word, ecstasy.
Duchess presses a kiss against Hatter's stomach, and the most overwhelming wave of pleasure he's ever felt swept up through his groin and lower abdomen, forcing a short groan from him. That'll be the Tea, he surmises. Working its stupid Oyster magic. She bites the lower edge of his navel, and his head rocks back, slamming hard into the plaster. Hatter swears loudly into the silence of his Tea Shoppe, lifting a hand to touch the now tender spot on the back of his head.
She stands. Leaves his belt buckled, which is a gut-wrenching disappointment. But at least her mouth is back. And her tongue.
'Of course I know your name. Everyone knows your name.' She never stops with the kisses—his eyebrows, his chin, all along his jaw line, the pulse in his neck, the hollow of his throat. It's hard for Hatter to work out what she is saying over the sound of his own breathing. 'The man who is always there when they pass the hat.'
That feels good, like praise. Her hand feels good, too.
There is a scuffle somewhere behind the pillar. There is someone else in Hatter's Tea Shoppe — has been all along.
Quick as a flash Duchess retracts her hand from his trousers, and she wipes the smeared lipstick from her mouth. Hatter lolls, feeling like a cloud. Then a slim hand encloses around his throat. He chokes slightly. 'If you ever breathe a word of this,' she warns, 'I'll have your head cut off so quick it'll spin.' He chokes some more and nods.
Duchess hurries away, red in the face, furious, mortified.
Hatter slides down the wall, his flies still undone, belt loose, top hat crooked. A tiny figure sidles out from its hiding place behind the pillar and gives Hatter an apologetic look.
Hatter's features turn into a snarl and his hand snaps out and he punches the figure and they fall to the ground with a squeak. He flexes his hand, one knuckle split against a tooth of his victim. He looks disdainfully down upon the little man.
'You're a dirty pervert, Dormouse.'