The Bath

this was prompted by a Tumblr post. It's smut. Pure smut.

(A bit A.U, in that the roof gets fixed. And totally glossing over the fact that Gillian murdered some poor guy in the tub. Also I am ignoring the existence of Julia. Please forgive me. If you're looking for plot, this is not where you will find it.)

*You'll keep an eye on things, of course?* Gillian had asked, one flawless eyebrow arched prettily on her fair brow. Yes, he had told her. Of course he would. Hadn't she called him 'caretaker' when she introduced him to every new whore who came in the heavy front doors? Part of his duty was to make sure everything in the house stayed safe, be it working girl, madame, precious child, or inanimate object. Besides, what else had he to do?

Having finally managed to scrape up enough money for roof repair, Gillian deemed it best to shut the Artemis Club for the duration of the job. The long hours of stomping and pounding would keep the girls awake during the day which would affect their performance at night. Best to give them all a small vacation so they could relax and recharge. For herself, Gillian decided to take her grandson to New York for a few days.

Richard found himself alone in the very large house. It was unsettling at first, the vastness was almost smothering. He went to the kitchen and put together a plate of food, for the first time sitting in a room other than his own to eat, his mask on the table near his glass. He was lonely, but he was used to it. He didn't interact much with anyone in the house other than Gillian or Tommy. The girls just mostly ignored him unless they needed something. They were gracious when he saved them from aggressive customers, usually a quick handjob in a dark corner; Abigail did once come up behind him while he was polishing a glass at the bar and gave him a reach around. He was too stunned to protest, not that he was entirely of a mind to, so he stood with his head down, bar rag clutched tightly in his right fist, as her skilled hands brought him to a delightful conclusion.

His loneliness was no greater than what he had known in that dark time between leaving the farm and meeting Jimmy, but it was harder to ignore when there was no one else about. He cleaned up after himself and grabbed his mask, although he didn't put it on. Lonely, yes, but it afforded him the freedom to walk to his room without the mask hiding the ruins of his face, wire pressing in to temples and digging behind his ears. It was a novelty, but not one he would be likely to repeat; he felt too exposed.

He went to bed early, listening to the soothing silence of a house that had so many stories written in its walls. He slept more deeply than he had expected, but he felt strangely safe alone in a place where so many awful things had occurred.

The next evening he wandered the mansion, examining fine wood working, valuable antique, and various works of art. This house had been built as a showcase of power and prowess, it had become a brothel aiming at taste and refinement. It hadn't quite gone as Gillian had hoped; bless her, though, for trying to add class to man's baser instincts.

Richard could have gone into each and every room (save Gillian's) had he wanted, and while curiosity did stir within him, he couldn't bring himself to disturb the privacy or break the trust of the women who worked here.

But there was one room that belonged to no one, although everyone else used it from time to time. Richard had been in it often enough for various reasons, although never once for its intended purpose. He had just never been able to. What was he to do? Run the risk of one of the girls walking in on him with a client in tow? But he was alone now. There was nothing stopping him. He stepped inside the bath almost reverently, his eye roaming the large room and trying to take in each detail. Opulent, pampered, privileged. That was what this room impressed upon the clients. They would come in to this grand chamber and be waited on by the whore they had chosen; bathed and fed little morsels, served whiskey in crystal tumblers, serviced as their desires demanded.

Richard turned on the tap, thinking about all the nights he had gone to his bed, seeking pleasure from his hand as he imagined himself neck deep in scented water, one of the lovely ladies tending to his every whim.

If he couldn't have that this evening, he could at least enjoy the most decadent bath of his life.

While the tub filled, he went to his room and gathered his things, taking his sleepwear and a fresh towel back to the bath, the air now warm and filled with steam, giving the room a soft, embracing feel.

Richard set his things down on the edge of the tub, then trailed his fingers through the water and adjusted the taps slightly. While he waited for the tub to finish filling, he wandered over to a cabinet and opened the ornately carved doors. Here was where the towels, soaps and scents were stored, and Richard ran his eye over the collection, picking a small bottle at random and smelling it. It was too sweet, so he put it back and grabbed another, repeating the process until he found one he liked. It had a spiced scent that warmed, almost tickled, deep in his sinuses. He added a few drops to the water and soon the air was redolent with the smell. When the tub was finally filled, he turned off the taps and began to undress. As he untucked his shirt, he paused as idea occurred to him. He left the bath and headed for the bar, pouring a glass of bourbon and taking it back with him. He grabbed a towel from the cabinet, rolling it to use as a neck rest, and after a moment's contemplation decided that two candles would not be over-doing it. Everything arranged to his satisfaction, he turned off the lights, leaving only the flicker of the candles for illumination. Richard finished undressing, shivering slightly as the moist air touched his skin, almost like a lover's teasing caress. Slowly, he stepped into the water, hissing slightly at that first moment when the water feels scalding, and pinpricks of pain dance under the skin. But he kept lowering himself in, having made it hot so he could soak some of the tension that seemed so much a part of him away. He did give a small cry of shock when hot water met sensitive genitalia, but he soldiered on and finished immersing himself.

He sighed in contentment as he relaxed against the back, towel tucked comfortably under his neck. Arms resting on the tub sides, eye closed, he felt his muscles begin to ease. He soaked and let his mind drift; that it drifted to a fantasy of what tended to happen here didn't surprise him, and he made no effort to move it elsewhere. His right arm moved slightly, allowing his fingers to brush the surface of the water, causing ripples that teased at his skin.

Fingers flowed through water, lightly caressing skin; it was the teasing beginning, a hint of things to come. Easy to imagne it as the hand of any of the women, although there wasn't one of firmly set in his mind. Perhaps Deborah, with her black hair and green eyes? Or Cheryl, the charming soft spoken southern belle from Charleston? What about Rose, who smiled shyly but was called by customers quite the tigress? So many to choose from, each one had starred in his mind more than once. He thought about Rebecca, who was tall and willowy, but she faded from his mind and suddenly it was Katie trailing her fingers down his stomach.

"So this is where you're hiding."

The voice from the door yanked Richard from his imaginings. His eye flew open, his right arm came out of the water with all the speed guilt and embarrassment could give. He went to reach for his mask, but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor. Without thought, he leaned out of the tub to grab at it; skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden change in temperature. He leaned farther, the mask having skidded some on the slick floor. It was the appreciatively murmured "Now that's a lovely sight" that made him sink rapidly back into the blissful concealment of water, burying his face in his hands and wanting to drown himself from sheer mortification; how not, when he had just mooned her?

"I'm sorry," he said into his hands.

"I'm not." The soft tap of heels echoed through the room as she neared the tub. Her perfume mingled with the scented oil he had added to his water, a heady miasma that made him stir in spite of his embarrassment.

"No, I'm not sorry at all," she said, beside him now. He sensed her sitting on the edge, then her fingertips brushed damp hair from the back of his neck before sweeping down his spine. It was a brief moment of contact. She stood up and softly called to him "Won't you look at me? Please?" It was with great hesitation that Richard lowered his right hand and turned his face to her, trying to keep his scars hidden. She cocked her head slightly, causing her long hair to fall over her shoulder; candlelight shimmered on deep golden highlights. A tiny smile curled on her lips, a hint of sadness shining in her long-lashed eyes. "You needn't be bashful or afraid. I promise...I understand." She said nothing else.

"Will you...hand me my mask?" he asked, feeling more than naked with only his hand hiding mangled flesh.

"Not right now," she told him, mischief lightening her words. "I think it will only be in the way."

Before Richard could even being to contemplate what that might mean, her hands slipped behind her back, shoulders rolling as she undid the buttons closing her dress. It was a beautiful thing to see, watching her dress slide down, exposing her bare flesh. The sound that emerged from Richard's throat was part astonishment, part tortured groan. He would have chalked this up as nothing but a dream if he couldn't so clearly feel the heat from his skin flushing, or the sharp ache of desire settling in his loins.

She stepped out of her dress and sat down on the edge of the tub once more, removing shoes and stockings and tossing them aside. "Slide up," she commanded with a small shove on his back, using enough pressure that his bottom slid easily on the smooth floor of the tub. She slipped in to the water behind him, her legs settling outside of his; she wrapped one arm around his chest and pulled him back against her. Her flesh was soft, but it ignited fires along his nerves everywhere it touched him. His body wanted to stay, his mind wanted him to run. It was a war within that his mind would eventually lose, conceding victory to the wants of the flesh. But that would take time; for now he could do nothing but lean against her and feel his body quiver as she began a slow, skillful seduction.

She bathed him, and it exceeded his fantasies in eroticism; soft cloth sliding over his shoulders, back and chest, her breath light and warm on his damp skin, her free hand tracing lovers words through the soap suds. He shuddered under her touch, relaxing, or perhaps resigning enough, to lower his left hand and exposing his wounds. She said nothing, but added her lips to the play, laying kisses on his neck and shoulders while her hands continued to explore his body.

"You know you're a popular topic among the girls?" she asked, squeezing water from the rag and letting the water run down his shoulders, thick soap bubbles tickling his skin. He murmured something inquisitive; his mind worked much faster than his mouth since his injury but right now his mind was barely working on anything other than the delight her hands were causing. "Oh, indeed!" she replied, a chuckle from deep in her throat echoing through him. "It's agreed that you're quite handsome, especially from certain angles." Richard knew that meant 'from the right side'. "There are two theories for why you never seek to get with anyone . The first is that you're not attracted to women, but some of us have paid enough attention to you to know that isn't the case." Her hands slid across his stomach, down his thighs, stealing his attention from her words. She sensed this, and held her tongue, turning her attention to his pleasure; caressing his hips and thighs, hands coming close to his manhood but torturously avoiding it, building his desire and anticipation. He leaned his head against her shoulder, eye closed, lips parting as a sharp sigh broke loose. Her fingertips skimmed along the creases of his hips; it tickled and aroused him in ways he had never imagined.

He gave a small sound of disappointment when he felt her move away. But she was only shifting so she could move in front of him. She straddled his thighs and washed his neck, arms and chest, keeping her eyes locked with his, a smile that he couldn't decipher curling her lips. "You don't mind that I'm here, do you?" she whispered. Richard shook his head, stunned disbelief sliding away as desire took control.

He slid his hands through the water and ran them up her thighs, bringing them up to her waist. She dropped the rag and twined her arms behind his neck, bending her head to lay her lips on his. She tickled his mouth open with the tip of her tongue as he pulled her against him, wanting...needing...to feel every inch of her against his skin. All hesitance fled from him as instinct took control. One arm wrapped around her waist, he buried his fingers in her thick hair, pulling her head back gently to expose her neck; he laid passionate kisses along the smooth skin, eliciting a deep moan from her as he kissed her pulse. She pressed her groin against his stomach, writhing slightly and making his hips jump in response. If he had pictured himself the epitome of stamina in his mind, he knew reality was liable to prove him as long-lasting as a fifteen year old virgin. He wanted to bury himself in her, here, now...her sweet treasure was so near him, shift her slightly and poke and he would be in! But then it would be over, and he felt hollow just at that thought.

"Are you a virgin?" she asked as his lips skimmed the delicate line of her collar bone, making her shiver under his hands.

"No," he breathed over her smooth skin, long fingers kneading the flesh of her lower back.

"Has it been a while since you last...?"

"Yes." The last time had been a debacle. July 2, 1921 would be forever etched in his mind for so many reasons, memories that he explored for the pain and shame they caused.

"Ah," was her sage reply. "Let's get something out of the way so we can continue at leisure." She gently twisted out of his embrace and slid backwards down his legs, slipping her knees between his when she was far enough down. Richard wasn't sure what to expect at first when she braced her left arm against the back of the tub and kissed him deeply. When her right hand grasped his manhood and began stroking him, she swallowed his sigh.

It did not take her long to work him to orgasm, as they had both expected. She milked the last of his seed from his pulsing phallus, continuing to kiss him, arching her back occasionally to brush his chest with her own. A contented langour overtook his limbs as his heart and breath slowed. She kissed and held him as he softened, pulling her face away from his only when he had gone completely limp in her hand. "There," she said cheerfully. "Now you won't worry about exploding right off, and we can both enjoy the rest of the evening." Richard's eye widened briefly, and she let loose a laugh at his innocence. Gracefully she stood, water streaming down her skin. Richard watched the way it traced her curves, sparkling in the flickering candlelight. He reached out to skim his fingers through the droplets on her stomach, feeling a strange sense of power deep within as he saw her muscles ripple in reaction. Boldly, he leaned forward and kissed gently the soft flesh of her stomach, the light down hair tickling his lips while courser curls lower brushed his chin. "Ooh," she gasped as his lips moved lower, his hands resting on the back of her legs, coaxing them apart. He felt the muscles of her legs quiver as he explored her cove with lips and tongue, tasting a sweetness unlike any he had ever known.

"I think...I need you...ungh...to stop," she panted, although her fingers were twined in his hair and not exactly encouraging him to pull away. "Oh..yes...please stop." By far one of the most confusing sentences he had ever heard; words saying one thing while tone said the opposite; he non-the-less stopped after one last swipe of his tongue along the pert little bud that had responded to his attention. He lifted his face to gaze at her, seeing nothing but remarkable beauty. She smiled at him, running fingertips along his jaw line as she did so.

"Still sorry?"

"No."

"Good." She took a step back and held out her hands. "Up," she gently laughed as she pulled him to his feet. "As nice as this room is, I've discovered my skills work best under drier conditions." She stepped out of the tub, and he followed. She grabbed his towel and began drying him off, re-igniting the embers of desire deep within as she ran the fabric over every inch of his skin. He wasn't so young that he was instantly ready again, but it wouldn't be long. When he was dry, she tossed the towel aside and took his hands, leading him out to the hallway. Both their skins tightened as they stepped into the cooler air; it did lovely things to her, Richard decided as he trailed after her. She turned to face him, smiling as she walked backwards. Richard gave a small tug, pulling her to him and wrapping his arm around her. She felt like fire against his skin; he kissed her deeply and ran his free hand along her curves. She was soft, conforming to his body as she pressed against him, moaning into his mouth as he cupped her breast, teasing the pert nipple with a thumb that retained the calluses of farm life. "Your room," she murmured eagerly against his lips; she ground her hips against him to emphasise her point. They stumbled down the hall, lips still joined, tongues dancing and hands roaming. Through his door and on to his bed; his body covering hers, he planted ardent kisses on her cheeks and lips, her eyelids, the tender spot just below the ear. He kissed his way down her body, the sounds of her pleasure stoking the fires of his own. He forgot himself, forgot what he was and how he looked, letting himself go as his passion guided him. Her skin flushed beneath him, her eyelids fluttered, her breathing edged towards gasps as he slowly parted her folds and tenderly lavished them with kisses and caresses. He carefully penetrated her, first with one finger, then a second; all the while paying homage to the little pearl emerging from the delicate petals that hid it. When she cried out, arching against him, he knew her pleasure was unfeigned; her inner walls pulsed too much for it to be false. Although he was ready again, he did not rush up her length and plunge in. Instead, he allowed her a few moments to gather herself while he laid featherlight kisses on her thighs and stomach, gently caressing her arms and ribs. It was she that drew him up her body, her hand that guided him in to her. He could still feel her throbbing around him as he slid in, her heat and dampness wrapping around him in a welcoming embrace. She pulled his weight on to her, kissing him deeply as he began moving; slow, deep thrusts. If she cared that he tasted of her, she didn't let it show. Their tongues matched the rhythm of their hips, rising and falling in a dance older than time and more primitive than any ancient culture.

As their pulses sped up, so to did their motions; he would have been done ten times over by this point if she hadn't worked him in the bath. But she had, and it gave him the chance to enjoy her at great length, to savor every moment of it.

Her hands trailed down his back and gripped his backside, pressing him hard in to her as she writhed under him. He lifted his head, arched his back to press fully against her, weight braced on his arms so he could see the look of ecstasy pass across her face.

It is a rush, to give someone something so wonderful, he thought as she arched against him, her body rigid as her nerves exploded. He gazed at her with wonder in his eye until she pulled him back down and encouraged him to take his own pleasure. He could have held himself back, could have tried to coax one more orgasm from her, but he didn't. For one, she seemed too relaxed under him; her embrace tender and without the ardour she had held him with earlier. For another, she was skilled at this, and she knew how to move and whisper and touch in all the ways that could make it nigh on impossible for a man to hold back. Not that she rushed him; but she brought him to the point where there was no stopping. It was not as intense as the first orgasm of the evening, but it was relieving and held a sweetness that rocked him to the core, although he would be hard pressed to describe it accurately. He panted for breath, a shiver traveling down his spine in the wake of her fingertips as she trailed them down his back.

"Oh." It was all he could manage to say, although that one word spoke volumes. He opened his eye to find her smiling up at him. "That definitely disproves the first theory," she laughed, ruffling his hair with her finger.

"Is that...why you came back?" He felt slightly hurt, irrational though it might be. "To confirm. Or deny gossip?"

"No," she shook her head. "My reasons, well, they're my own, and purely selfish. I owe you heartfelt thanks and my deepest apologies." A note of sadness tinged her words, and she paused while Richard shifted off her, moving to lay beside her, his head resting on his bent arm so he could look at her. "Why apologize?"

"Because, I used you for my own needs. No, hush," she laid her fingers across his lips when he opened them to speak. "If you had done the same, it wouldn't bother me. But you gave me everything you had, there was no pretense to it. And I feel awful for using you."

Richard regarded her steadily as he brought a hand up to capture hers, still covering his mouth, moving it away.

"Will telling me...your reason, make this. Mm, better for you?" She shook her head. "Do you think me. Knowing your reason. Would, mm. Ruin it?" She nodded without hesitation. "Then don't. Please...let it be. What we make of it."

"Caretaker," she murmured, placing her hand on his cheek. "You were certainly named right." A tender brush of the lips followed her words, and when she pulled away she asked with a slightly mischievous smile "Can I sleep here tonight? I don't feel up to walking to the bathroom for my things, much less all the way to my room."

"Alright. I...snore. A little," he mentioned, embarrassed.

"I know." She snuggled down, wrapping her arms around him when he had settled himself.

"You said. There were two theories...mm, about why I don't. Get with the girls."

"Oh!" She gave a highly amused laugh. "The other is that you're sleeping with the madame!" she informed him in a staged whisper. That made him laugh.

"By the way. Where is...Tommy?"

"Don't judge me, but I dropped him of with the Thompsons. Eli! Not Nucky. June has always been a dear, and I figure one of those eight children must be close in age to Tommy; he would benefit from friends his own age. And maybe," she added in a whisper, "maybe it's the start of forgiveness."

Richard placed a small kiss on her brow, feeling proud that she finally seemed to be moving on.

"Good night, Richard," she murmured sleepily into his shoulder.

"Good night, Gillian."