The massacre was long over, but the ashes of the fallen buildings still smoldered in the ruins of Gotham. Bodies littered the ground. Any that weren't already dead were most likely in the process of dying.
Only a handful of civilians remained, and they were lined up on their knees, hands bound behind their backs. Jerome aimed his gun point-blank at a young's man forehead, pausing a moment to savor the fear in his eyes before pulling the trigger. Blood splattered over Jerome's face as he howled in laughter, watching the man's corpse fall limp to the ground.
"You are all just so stupid!" he cackled, wiping away a spatter of blood on his cheek. However, his hands were covered in the stuff, so it only made the smear even worse. "He could've walked right out of here without an extra hole in his head. In fact, maybe you all could. Just tell me what I need to know," he hummed.
Jerome moved to the next in line, raising his gun to a middle-aged man's forehead. "Where is Bruce Wayne?" he asked hoarsely, voice ragged.
"Fuck you," the man spat.
"Oh, this one's got some balls on him, huh?" he lowered his gun, pointing at the man's groin before opening fire several times. "Not anymore, he doesn't!"
He burst into laughter once again at his own joke. "If you shitheads don't want to give him up, that's fine with me. I'm having a great time executing you one by one. It's cute that you're all so eager to die for him. Really it is. But I'm eventually gonna run out of you idiots, and when I do get to the last sorry asshole, I'll just find some more of you until there's virtually none of you left," he explained, gesticulating with his hands all the while.
He turned his gun on one of the other civilians who was shaking violently, their breathing coming in short, tight gasps. "You can give him up, or die like a little bitch and let your friends get tortured. What's it gonna be?"
However, his rampage was interrupted when you suddenly came onto the scene, shooting down the rest of the civilians once you had them in your sights. Jerome glanced down at the bodies as they fell to the ground one by one, his teeth gritted once he snapped his head up to look back at you, a scowl that you knew meant you were in for it.
"Was it that hard to kill them all?" you deadpanned and added, "You need to stop making a show of everything, it make you look really pathetic."
His grimace switched to a broad grin, and it almost worried you how fast his emotions could change on a whim. "Aw, it's so sweet of you to worry about me like that! But don't you worry, dear, they were restrained, they wouldn't be able to lay a finger on me," he explained calmly before his tone switched to a hoarse one, "this has nothing to do with you, so why don't you stay the hell out of my way?" he rasped before his glare turned into a sly smirk.
You both initially despised each other due to your vast amount of differences. You would lurk in the shadows, and the ginger was the complete opposite of that. His carefree, merciless attitude just got on your nerves. Above all, you loathed how he wouldn't ever shut his mouth, telling joke after joke no matter what kind of situation he was in.
You didn't think it was possible to hate someone so much until you met him. His mere presence alone was enough to tick you off. You were more of an assassin, someone who got the job done quickly and who took lives for a reason. It vexed you how the ginger only wanted to see the city in ruins for chaos' sake, how he laughed in the face of death, like this was all child's play to him. You couldn't even remember how it all started between you two, but whenever you both crossed paths, things never ended pretty. You crossed paths with him more than you would have liked to because he was almost always wreaking havoc in the streets of Gotham, so much that you wondered if he even took a break to sleep.
He took a daring step in front of you, and when you moved back from him, it only made him stride forward until your back made contact with the cold stone wall you were pushed against. You raised your gun to pressed it against his forehead, but he only leaned in when you did, his grin widening.
"Come to put me down, assassin?" he teased.
"Don't tempt me," you spat back, and he only laughed in amusement at that before his hand grabbed hold of your wrist, only to tug the gun out of your hand before there was any chance of you pulling the trigger.
"You know, we're a lot alike," he mused as he pressed his body into yours, the contact of his heat upon yours made you shiver almost immediately in response. "We both kill people for starters," he added, a smug sneer on his face.
"Like hell," you hissed, "we're nothing alike," you told him. Your glare was unmistakable, lips pulled back in a snarl.
"Are you sure?" he asked as he whipped up your gun to wave it in front of your face when he explained, "Are you positive we're different? The world doesn't seem to think so. We're both monsters in their eyes, but I'd say the biggest difference between us is how much you can never seem to stop bitchin'," he jested.
"Fuck you, you fucker," you said around a growl, pushing him out of your way with a hand, keeping your distance from him, though you were careful to avoid stepping on the bloodied dead bodies on the ground.
"Aw, are your feelings hurt? Gonna get mad and throw a tantrum about it like you always do? It's the goddamned truth and you know it," he barked, following your movements so that you two weren't far apart from one another. You paused a short distance in front of him, staring at your enemy's face. Enemy. That was all he was and all he ever would be, for you.
"Go to hell," you spat out after you took too long thinking of a clever response to that.
"Oh I've been there; not a very pleasant place. Lousy weather," he tittered at his own jokes, which made your fingers twitch compulsively, as though itching to wrap themselves around his throat and choke all the laughter out of him. But you didn't, you did nothing at all. You couldn't possibly begin to wrap your head around the twisted game that he was playing with you.
"Can you shut your fucking mouth for one second? Just one second," you snapped. The urge to strike him right across his equally striking face was getting stronger by the second, but you mostly couldn't bring yourself to do it because you knew how much he would get a kick out of it. Though, that was what you found yourself hating most about him, was how insanely attractive he was. He was easy on the eyes, that was for sure, mesmerizing even, with his fiery red hair and devilish eyes. And as his eyebrows flitted up, you knew he could see what you were thinking. You could feel the heat spreading across your cheeks so you quickly turned away from his piercing gaze.
He stepped towards you when you said those words, as if interested in the challenge they presented, his smirk quirking up at the corners. He stopped walking once there was barely a gap between both of your bodies, his voice in a harsh whisper when he said, "Make me, you bitch," he dared.
His eyes were fixated on you with a hard stare, as if his eyes could strip away the flesh from your bones and lay all of your secrets bare. He wasn't just looking at you, he was looking into you. Even though you were fully clothed, you felt completely exposed under his gaze. He was looking at you so intensely, like he wanted to pick you apart cell by cell and reconstruct you in an entirely different way. You didn't know what he was looking for, but whatever he found caused a dangerous light to flicker in his green eyes, like a wildfire consuming a forest. The motion caused your heart to clench in your chest.
You were both monsoons and nightmares and death and blood and yet you were both drawn to each other but you wanted to see red, wanted to see blood raining down on the other and laughing in the face of reality, for you both refused to accept it that they may be something between you two.
You wished you could hold onto the anger longer. It was warming, soared through you like fire and electricity at once, like your sleeping blood was coming alive to flash and flare and burn, a phoenix turning itself to smoke too soon.
You didn't know what possessed you then, but in the half second that you thought about it, you told yourself it was that you just wanted to shut him up like you always had dreamed of. You pressed closer and with a brush of lips upon his, you were instantly lost in the sensation. Coaxed on by the violence and the excitement, the touch sent a thrill though you, the edges of it tinged with a shiver as you arched your back, closing that short distance between you two.
His lower lip caught upon yours, drawing the upper lip between his own. Within seconds, you felt a sharp sting, teeth cutting into tender flesh, and you could taste the bitter metal on your tongue, the heady scent of blood filling your senses.
He drew back, his tongue darting out to lick up the blood beading on your lip, only to press in again, this time harsher than before, the force nearly bruising. With each nip of his teeth, he was met with an equal bite, an equal press of lips and tongue.
"I hate everything that comes out of your mouth," you told him between heated kisses.
"I hate your fucking attitude," he hissed in reply.
Your head smacked against the wall with a loud thud and you grunted against the lips crushed against your own, feverishly trying to work into a position where your noses weren't smashed together at least. His long fingers wrapped around your wrist and pushed them against the wall by your head, making it all the more difficult to move. Teeth bit down on your lower lip when you barely parted for air. A groan resonated through the space between you two.
Your hands flew into his hair and this time, you were the one smashing your mouths together, teeth clacking and noses uncomfortably pressed together, the frantic pace revitalized. Your hips ground together as he pushed you back against the wall, hands groping and tugging, tongues sliding against each other's desperately, pulling back and coming together with renewed vigor.
But then after a few more lingering swipes of his tongue across on your lower lip to drink up the blood that trickled down to your chin, the kiss ended.
"Don't let your guard down, Valeska," you jested, wiping your mouth and lips with the back of your hand hastily, which only seemed to amuse him further.
"Let my guard down? I'm merely trying to get on your good side, dollface, you need to lighten the fuck up," he teased, rolling his tongue over his lips to get that last bit of your blood into his mouth. He moved back from your heated body almost reluctantly, stealing glances of it whenever he thought you didn't notice.
"As much as I would love to stay and chat, I must be on my way, I would say it was nice seeing you, but it wasn't," he cackled before he ran off to God knows where. You found yourself watching him until he was no longer in view, still breathless from the kiss. You didn't understand why you did what you just did, it was simply inconceivable. You hated him with every fiber of your being, everything you had due to the fact of his ability to never take anything seriously, how annoying and persistent he was, how thirsty he was for pointless chaos, it all drove you to hate him, yet you were kissing him just seconds ago?
"Fucking idiot," you mumbled under your breath, blaming him for the mistake that just occurred.
You went home shortly afterwards back to your place, hoping to forget what took place on that calamitous street. You took it easy for the rest of the day, simply trying to put your mind at ease and relax, though the very image of him continued to plague your every thought.
When night fell, the ginger tumbled through your window, into your darkened room. Sirens screamed past on the road below and he ducked away from the glass. When it was quiet again, he pulled the window closed, shutting out the sirens and the world. You were laying down on the comfortable cushion of your mattress when you jolted up to look at the uninvited guest in your room.
"Heya dearie," he snickered after planting his feet on the ground, "you were quite the charmer back there."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" you barked, immediately slipping off the bed to meet the intensity of his gaze.
"I was just thinking about that kiss," he huffed out a single breath in a laugh, "there was a whole lot of passion to it for someone who claims to hate me," he added, his smirk broadening as you continued to glower at him.
"I did it to shut you up, and it worked. I'm just so fucking sick of you that I was willing to do whatever it took to zip that mouth shut for even a second," you explained as you scowled at him.
"So we hate each other," he shrugged, "still not a good enough reason to discard hate sex. Just saying," he told you as you gritted your teeth, and hell he had came to love that glare from you for some odd reason.
"You just think you're so fucking funny, don't you?" you snarled as you found yourself stepping up to him just like you had earlier, "thinking you can say that and I'll agree to have sex with you."
"Well you sure do like to try and shut me up right?" he cackled when the words spilled from his mouth. He suddenly lifted his finger up to trace the fresh red mark on your lower lip which made you wince slightly since it was still very tender, and your reaction only made him laugh all the more. "I just love how you think you're hot shit, why? You honestly believe your way is better than my way? Ooh, so impressive, you get paid for killing people," he mocked, hissing out each word, "I don't know much about you," he snarled. "But here's what I do know: you're rude, you're bitchy, you're obnoxious. You think far too highly of your own opinion, and you love the sound of your own voice, which I hate more than anything," he scoffed.
At the peak of words ran dry the only thing left hanging in the air was your anger contorted faces. The silence was a ground shaking sentence punctuated by heavy breathing.
"That's it," you growled before you slammed him against the wall, your hands fisted themselves in his hair to jerk his head down so you could claim his lips with yours once again. He smirk in amusement before his teeth caught your lower lip and pulled harshly, his breath washing over your chin. You let go of his hair with one hand and wrapped your fingers around his jaw. Being this close to his hot skin, you fell all of it at once; excitement, adrenaline, arousal, rage.
"You're such an annoying bitch," he pulled back to speak as he trailed his fingers on your stomach. "It doesn't come as a surprise that it translates into the bedroom," he growled. He leaned down until his lips were just a couple centimeters away from yours. "You've gotten on my last nerve, but lucky for you, I'm feeling particularly generous before I slice open that pretty little neck," he whispered before touching his lips to yours just slightly.
You held back a gasp when his hands cupped your ass and lifted you from the ground, winding your legs around his waist. Your throat formed a grunt as he shoved you back against the wall, moving his hands so he could rip at the buttons on your top. He leaned his head down and started to bite at your collar bone, leaving a trail of throbbing red welts upon your skin.
"Let's just fucking get this over with already," you whispered in his ear, your teeth nipping the lobe sharply once he moved his head back up.
He ground his hips roughly against the apex of your thighs. "Is this what you want, you little bitch?" he growled lowly in his throat, his fingers wound in your hair, jerking your head back so he could look into your eyes. Your mouth opened in a hiss and he leaned down so his lips were just overs yours before his tongue slid out to lick yours.
You whined low in your throat, the sound nearly humiliating you in its need. His hand was heavy in your hair and pulled it deliciously tight. You continued to grind your hips into his, silently begging him to take you. His hand held firm when you leaned forward to kiss him again, preventing you from doing so. You reached down to work on removing his pants, but whined in protest when his hands grasped yours. He pushed them over your head and held them against the wall.
"I want to hear you fucking say it. Do you want me to fuck you?" he said in a grating tone, each word of the question was punctuated by a slow roll of his hips, dragging his hardness across your covered slit.
"Yes," you spoke the word as quickly as possible, and you strained your wrists against his fingers, his hold was like iron.
He leaned down as far as he could and bit the top of your breast before sucking some of the flesh into his mouth. You watched the top of his head move against you as he worked his way along your chest, leaving more marks in his path. Heels pressed into the small of his back to pull him closer. One of his hands left your wrist to work at the button and zipper on your pants. With your hand free, you grabbed onto his locks as he teased your flesh at the edge of your bra.
"Just fucking take it off already, hurry up," your voice bit into the dark.
His chuckle vibrated against your skin, and you nearly jolted when he lifted his head up all of a sudden to look at you with the most venomous gaze he had ever given you to say, "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're in charge here," he warned, "that isn't what you want after all."
Index and middle fingers hooked under your bra and he jerked it down, ripping it in the process before he let it fall to the ground. He didn't waste a second before his lips closed around a nipple, keeping a harsh suction around the skin. You moaned, pressing his head closer to the flesh of your chest, in a desperate attempt to feel more of the warmth of his mouth. Heat settled between your legs, and your clit throbbed with want for him.
"You're a slut, you know that?" he said, his tone grating. "I never knew, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he chuckled when he added, "or do you just like to be treated like one?"
You rolled your eyes at that, "I'm just horny as fuck," you told him, "it's either you or my hands. The latter requires more effort on my part. And if you don't fuck me, I'm going to find someone who wi-" your words turned into gasps when you felt him shove his hand down the front of your opened pants and slid his fingers into your waiting heat. They were thick and long, curling into you and dragging along your walls slowly, giving you that bit of attention you so desperately craved.
Those words seemed piss him off. Suddenly, his other hand enclosed around the length of your neck all of a sudden, "I think it's time you learn to shut up," he snarled, his hand now cutting off your oxygen, making you panic slightly as he squeezed tighter, adding more pressure as his fingers dug harshly into your skin. "You seem tense, dearie," he whispered hoarsely. His fingers moved over your jugular just to hear the hitch in your breath as your pulse raced under his hand, savoring the beat before he spoke again, "If you keep your mouth shut, you'll make this so much easier for me," he said somewhat fondly, stroking your neck slowly now as if in thought when he did it. "Don't you fucking test me," his tone changed in an instant, hissing out each word.
When he let go of his firm hold on you, your moans twisted into the air around you two as you threw your head back into the wall, trying to bring your breathing back to normal as you bucked your hips against his thrusting fingers. He smirked as he watched your face contort in pleasure. "Can you feel how wet you are for me already?" he questioned as his finger flicked against your clit forcefully, drawing forth a wanton moan from your lips. "Naughty little thing, aren't you? I didn't know arguing with me turned you on so much, until today," he jested with a snicker.
He pushed your legs from around his waist and set you back on your feet. You could feel your knees shaking as your breath shook in anticipation. You let him turn you around, his hands gripping your hips in an almost death grip, your skin immediately stinging with the intense sensation of it that you knew was going to leave many bruises. His teeth worried the junction of your neck and shoulder and you pressed your ass back into his crotch and ground roughly into his body. Your pants were then yanked down, baring your flesh to the chilly air.
His hands ran over the skin he found there, gripping a tight handful before lightly slapping you. He brought a hand to the center of your shoulders and pushed you forward, making you bend at the waist and steady yourself by placing your hands on the wall in front of you. Your legs rubbed together, trying to relieve some of the pleasure that throbbed there. His hips pressed against yours, hard member rubbing the cleft of your ass.
"Something about fucking out our hate for each other turns me on," he purred, and you could practically hear his smirk.
"I hate your guts," you muttered.
"Ditto," he replied in a loud cackle that made you growl.
A gasp flew out of your mouth when he picked you up by your hips and dumped you on a chair beside you two. Your legs opened wide, keeping him between your hips. You started to rise, to grab onto his hair and pull him down for a kiss, but he stopped you: one hand on your sternum, the other gripping your hip hard enough to nearly break your skin. His teeth pinched tightly at the flesh on your jaw, your soft neck, supple chest. His chin and jaw dragging roughly across your skin. You tossed your head back and mewled loudly as the flat of his tongue ran over your nipple before circling the tight bud with the tip. A rough palm ran over your sex before two thick fingers slid inside, curling against you in a way that made your head spin.
Your chest heaved, breath rushing in and out of your open mouth with your moans. Your cry was swallowed by his mouth when his thumb rubbed tight circles against your clit. Fingers started to scrape and pull at his neck, scratching away and digging your nails into his skin. You wanted to feel his muscles, to know how they felt rolling beneath your hands.
He purred at that as he traveled down your body, fingers still working you, tongue leading the way. He circled your navel before allowing it to dip in, making your hips squirm against him. Perfect teeth nipped the skin on your hips before sucking a mark into the sensitive flesh. You sat up on your elbows, watching him lower himself to his knees in front of you. The way his chin ran over the soft skin of your thighs drove you to gasping. He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and you watched as he brought them to his lips, licking them clean, tongue running between the digits. His piercing devilish eyes met yours, a smirk tugging up at the corner of his lips.
Your legs were lifted up and placed over his shoulders, ass dragged to the edge of the chair in one swift movement. His hot breath fanned across you as he moved in closer to your dripping sex. You could practically feel his smirk against your flesh. He turned his head and dragged his nose along your thigh, licking and nipping the flesh eagerly as he went. With each slow pass of his tongue, each sharp bite of his teeth against you, your legs twitched around his head. By the time his tongue finally laved across your slit, you were trembling involuntarily. Your moan caught in your throat as his thick fingers spread you open so he could plunge deeper, his mouth making lewd noises as he sucked and licked. You reached your hands around so your nails could grip into his shoulders, rolling your hips against him with every motion of his tongue and fingers.
He was purposefully missing your clit each time he licked at you. Your thighs shook violently around his head, every touch sending intense heat waves of pleasure through all the nerves in your body. His locks of hair were soft against your flesh, a sharp contrast to his wild fingers, thrusting their way in at a rapid pace, only to draw them back, and repeat the process over and over again. You dug your heels into the back of his shoulder blades and arched your back away from the cushion of the chair. The pleasure was searing when he finally took your clit into his mouth after waiting for what felt like forever. He groaned around you, his hips bucking into the air in front of him. His back muscles moved with a roll each time he pushed against the back of your thighs.
You almost moaned his name. Almost. It was there on the tip of your tongue, dangling close to the precipice. You wondered how it would feel in your mouth, but you bit back from saying it, you couldn't give him the satisfaction. Your legs jerked and toes curled when he slid two of his fingers inside your twitching body, curling and caressing you. You were so close to the edge, and you felt like screaming. Your breath made sharp noises into the air as fire coursed through your veins, desperately seeking release.
He swirled his tongue around that heavenly bundle of nerves. He moaned into you when your nails dug into his scalp to push his face closer to you. His mouth lowered, just over his fingers as he licked you from them to your clit. Over and over again. Your whines fell muffled on his ears, but they still sounded like the epitome of sin. Lush hips moved against him, begging, pleading for him to push you over the edge you were hovering on. He could feel it, tightening around his fingers as you raked your nails harshly against his scalp.
You looked down your body to find him gazing up at you with a wicked, twisted glint in his eyes. You hadn't even realized you had removed one hand from his hair to play with your nipples. You pulled and rolled, pinched and flicked at them while your hips rolled. So close. Your back arched, your heels pulling back as your orgasm came barreling towards you. With a few more slow swipes of his tongue, you came undone. Your hands abandoned your body and his to clamp over your mouth, catching your cries. You felt the fire swim through your veins and feared you would be consumed by it. And you were, and still he kept going. He worked you through your orgasm until you were shaking and your back smacked down on the chair.
When he pulled away from you, there was a grin plastered on his face as he dropped your legs and let your feet find the floor before completely standing. Hastily he began stripping himself down, each article of clothing thrown about the room. His member throbbed with each quiet mewl and gasp you made. He wanted- he needed to be inside of you.
You caught yourself watching him as he undressed. You examined how his shoulders were wide and well defined. His chest was smooth and bare. The skin over his stomach was tight. You wanted to run your tongue over that v-shaped indentation at his hips, and you mentally kicked yourself for taking in all his features at once. You weren't supposed to be examining every detail on your enemy's body. Though, a sinful smirk crossed your face when you saw his member. Your tongue drew cross your lips as you noticed the pre-cum drip from the tip and fall to the floor.
"What a waste," you thought. You drank in how long and thick he was, a somewhat impressed look on your face. When he gave a few strokes with his hand, you saw the dark vein that ran up the pale underside. He curved slightly to the right- nothing that would impair a good blowjob.
He stalked over to you and lifted you from the chair as much as your ogling entertained him. You let him move you to the wall and spin you so you were facing it. Your hands fell forward to support yourself, your torso parallel with the floor. In one quick moment, he was sheathed inside you. You choked on your gasp as he stretched you so nicely, just enough to make your knees quake. Your hands shifted on the wall in front of you when he rocked into you once more. His thrusts were slow, testing, at first. When he pulled back once again, you thrust yourself backwards onto him while he slid himself into you, making you both groan with the force.
"You know, I'm getting fucking tired of hearing your voice," he growled against your ear, his hot breath covering it as he spoke, "so do me a favor, and shut the fuck up, I like you better that way."
His hand fisted in your hair, bowing your back when he pulled. You nodded in agreement as you bit your lip to muffle your moans and gasps, burying your head in your arm to try and stop any sounds from coming out.
"Good girl," he praised, easing out slowly as he said, "now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
You could feel your wetness slide down your thigh with each thrust of his hips. His grunts echoed in the room, filling your ears, along with your quieted sounds and the slap of skin on skin. Pleasure wrung its self around you, making your clit throb, begging for his fingers or his tongue again. His hot breath remained on your ear and you heard him growl, the noise going straight between your thighs. Your skin was on fire.
"Jerome," his name was a gasp, a plead, and it tasted sweet on your tongue. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked when his name slipped from your lips almost instantly.
"What did I say about making any sounds?" he snarled, and you nodded your head again as he pushed your head back against the wall without a care. You covered your mouth with your own hand to keep from moaning as his thrusts became harder and faster until he was slamming into you. He was right to tell you to keep quiet because it was incredibly humiliating moaning for the person who you loathed oh-so much.
"Are you going to come for me again, Y/N?" he asked, your name was a slip, but it felt strangely pleasant in his mouth.
With a weak moan you nodded. Your gasp was ripped out of you when his teeth found the back of your neck and sucked a bruise into the flesh. His hips finally started to piston in and out of you again while his thumb was relentless on your clit. Just as you were about to scream his name he pulled out. You were spun around until your chest was pressed into his. When he picked you up, your legs wrapped around his waist and your back hit the wall, stinging the skin there upon the harsh contact before he slid into you once again.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, nose, and his cheekbones, locks falling out of their perfectly coiffed positions. You reached your hands to his face, wanting to pull him in for a kiss. He had other plans, as usual. He took your wrists in one hand and pinned them against the wall, above your head, exerting his dominance over you. You dropped it back against the wall when he rocked into you: the new position letting him slide across your throbbing clit. You could feel that sweet tightness in your abdomen returning, it took you no time to get there again.
"Please," you said, barely above a whisper, the words falling from your lips like a chant. Your toes curled when you felt how close he was with you, and you could feel it each time he moved in your spasming walls. He let his face drop to the crook of your neck where he sucked another mark into your flesh. His hips stuttered as he groaned with you, hand dropping from your wrists and shoving it between your bodies, rolling your clit with that scorching pressure. Your fingers instantly dug into his shoulders, gripping him with all the strength you could muster.
You don't mind him so much when he's like this, mouth gracefully parted, staring at you intensely and unabashedly through half-lidded eyes like mercury—though, to be honest, it's more like he's looking through you, rather than at you. It's like he can see everything when you're like this, he knows your secrets, knows your shame, knows your hatred, knows your pain—he knows everything there is to know, because somehow, it's like he can see right into your soul.
His eyes are blown almost completely black, with a thin ring of green around it, and his movements were becoming sluggish, lethargic—almost as if he's drunk, and really, that's okay, because you're feeling more than a little light-headed yourself, what with the way he looks, panting and red-faced, coupled with the way his pale body writhes above you, sinful and beautiful and raw.
His face is an open back for you, and only you, because no one else understands him the way you do, no one sees him how you see him: mischievous and irritating and challengingly wonderful. Yes he's a book you've read many times, his body a lost language that rolls off your tongue with practiced ease because you've stayed up so late many nights thinking about how much of a nuisance he was, and same with him. The both of you are fluent in each other, because how else would you understand? Trick question—you wouldn't.
You realize what they mean what they say there's a thin line between love and hate. At first that never made sense to you, but now it does, somewhat. People saw him as the Devil incarnate—but there's a pink tinge to his cheeks that makes him look somewhat innocent even though you both know he's far from it, his innocence hidden somewhere in a dark compartment, rotting and decaying, along with his optimism and anything remotely positive, leaving behind pessimism and a bitter taste in your mouth like poison.
There are so many things you love about this, being with him like this. This is perfection, because nothing is wrong here, with him, rolling around in each other, and retracing the contours of each other's hips and chests and legs and lips. There are so many things that you want to memorize and lock away somewhere safe, so that they never disappear, because without this, you are lost. You want to take it all and ingrain it into the very fiber of your being—the way he looks, the way he feels, the way one of his hands has come up to grasp at your bicep tightly, so tightly, that you know it'll leave bruises that won't fade for weeks, and even when they're gone, you'll still feel where his fingers branded you, you'll feel it hiding just beneath your skin, aching in the most wonderful way.
His other hand is at that place where your shoulder and your upper back meet, his blunt fingernails raking across your flesh, leaving behind pink welts, and you think for a moment—just a fleeting thought—you wonder if maybe he's trying to claw his way into your body, trying to find a way to live within you, nestled safe within your rib cage where he can feel your heart and know that it still beats for him and only him, so that he never has to leave you ever again, and he can have you here, like this, open and vulnerable, forever.
Maybe it's just you, though.
When he finally came undone, it was with a wild cry, and a tremble in his fingers, accompanied by fluttering eyelashes, and a small sigh of content. His body sunk into your body beneath him, and you caught the infinitesimal quirk of his mouth that kind of, sort of, but not really, resembles a smile. You found yourself wishing that he would stay this way forever because when you're together like this, quiet and messy and beautiful, he can't become the spiteful creature he usually is.
"Jerome!" you followed him in his release, with a scream of his name, your sex jerking and pulsing around him uncontrollably.
Your hands struggled to pull him closer to you, which you were grateful for because you convinced yourself that you were glad it was about over, and you two could continue onto your ways of hating one another.
Your breath was just a long and drawn out high-pitched whine as he continued to thrust into you. Each one accompanied by a groan or a growl. You thought you were going to lose your mind as he kept his thumb moving. The pleasure was so sharp it actually hurt, but the pain drove you on. You didn't want it to ever end. If you had it your way, he would have fucked you all night. Finally, his thrusts faltered and and he pushed into you one last time before he released. His groan sounded foreign to his own ears as he left himself fall against you while your legs dropped from his waist. Your hands smoothed through his hair, as if he were a lover. As soon as the thought came to your mind, you stopped, letting your hands fall to his shoulders.
You thought about giving him a mark, his shoulder was perfect level to do so, but still you stopped. You felt him gasp against you, his chest heaving with his labored breaths. The orgasm he gave you still swimming peacefully through your limbs, relaxing you both from your usual state. You winched slightly when he pulled his softening member and thumb from your clit.
In post-orgasmic haze, Jerome Valeska is a thing of beauty.
But soon—too soon—his serene expression morphs into a vicious sneer that seems almost out of place on him, especially now, and you're perplexed for a moment until you're suddenly careening backwards, landing with a thud, your body falling on top of the cool, thin, satin sheets, and it wasn't long that he joined your side. Chests heaving as you both stared up at the ceiling to avoid looking at one another, perfectly in sync with each other.
"You're such a fucking slutty whore, you know that?" he spat, breaking the silence between you two.
"Fuck you," you cursed and shook your head in disgust. "This doesn't change anything," you told him around a heavy pant. "I hate your guts," you finished in a growl.
"I hate you too, dollface, wholeheartedly," he chuckled, sounding amused despite his earlier hiss.
You hated him still, or at least that was what you told yourself, but you found that you hated him a little less after tonight.