Moonstruck PART II

Hello dear readers!

Shame on me for taking nearly two years to return to this fiction. I hope you have not given up on me since my absence, however I did want to take my time with this story as it is my biggest one and most prevalent one (Aside from my own favorite and most dramatic of anything I've ever written.) The plans for the fiction have already been divulged and created in my head, and it has just taken this long to get them all down on paper once more, after having lost the previous documents. I would also like to say that this fiction needs its pacing, and thus this Chapter begins PART TWO of Moonstruck. So buckle your seatbelts children, because it's going to be a crazy ride!

Disclaimer: This may contain very mature content, slash, violence, psychological themes and is not for the faint at heart. I do not own any of the DC characters.

Wayne Penthouse
December 8th

6:17am

It was dawn, the first slivers of light peeking over the deep blue horizon to greet the early crowd, the most of which were journeying on the way to work or picking up last minute holiday gifts. A cascade of grey white clouds rolled in from the sea, ready to transform Gotham into the blanketed flurry in time for the new winter.

The air was chilly, far colder than the night before when the newest resident of the Wayne home awoke. He focused his eyes on the new waking dawn through the billionaire's gigantic windows. He had always been an early riser, unable to fall back into the dream state once his busy mind became aware of the rousing consciousness.

The slumbering brunet figure had barely twitched as he gently removed the dead arm from around his body, quietly easing himself off the bed.

The movement caused Jack to groan as a rippling wave of pain throbbed below his waist, reminding him of the night before. They had fucked good and hard, Bruce unrelenting to giving Jack an easy getaway. He saw it as… punishment for risking his life in jail and frankly disliked the alcohol dispersing in his lover's bloodstream. He thrust his girth into Jack's pleading entrance, teasing his body and removing himself before Jack could climax.

In return, he earned a frustrated, heated young man who sputtered curse words from scarred lips at the billionaire, until Bruce plunged into him, angling himself upwards to hit his prostate over and over and over until the blond cried into the face of the bed, spilling his seed over the sheets.

Jack's tan cheeks flushed a bright pink at remembering every savory detail of their entwined bodies, Bruce's throbbing member inside of him, and their hands squeezed knuckles white until they fell into a trembling embrace. He smiled gently at the sleeping man, every single threatening or virile feature washing away in the innocent, peaceful dreaming face.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt, limping into the bathroom to see the visible damages.

"Damn." He remarked quietly to himself, quite surprised to see violet-red bruises embellishing the sides of his neck and collar, further inspecting to even find the outline of Bruce's teeth buried into his shoulder. He was sure there were more to find later, only to be replaced the very next night.

Bruce's love marks… heh.

He smiled to himself, giddy with a near teenage emotion as he gazed over Bruce's artwork and broken blood vessels embellishing in lines upon his sides and hips from the billionaire's digging fingers. The phantom sensation of them crawled over his body once again, shivering in delight.

His body wanted the warm arms surrounding him, needed the man connecting them. Jack rocked his head back groaning and stretched his spine.

I love him. I can't help it…

I love him so much dammit, ha.

How did these feelings even begin?

All I know is that he's the world to me… and that I wish I could hold onto him forever, and never have to worry about a damn thing.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, fantasizing about his life with Bruce Wayne and possibilities of a future. He laughed quietly. "Slow down, Napier, just get through the day, don't make anything awkward with Alfred, and sleep with Brucie…"

….Alfred.

Hmm.

He peeked his head out of the bathroom to stare at the clock on the bedstand. 6:20AM.

Lovely.

Alfred will be soon…

A light bulb ignited up in the vacancy of his mind, a plotting grin etching itself onto his features…

"I think I need a cup of coffee…"

The aftershock had relented to allowing the elder guardian a peaceful night's slumber cast aside from the chaotic events troubling his mind that happened the night before. Alfred shut off his alarm clock, opening his eyes to a hopeful new day. He rose from his bed, catching a whiff of something that made his belly gurgle.

Simmering pork…

What in the world could be…?

Bruce would never be up at his hour...

Curios, and also somewhat alarmed, he slid the small dagger out from his pillowcase and into his pajamas pocket, quietly pulling on his slippers.

What the old butler would soon find scarred his memories for years to come, almost nearly disturbing as finding his young master lip-locked with Gotham's most deadly man. He paused at the last few steps before turning the corner into the grand kitchen.

Retro guitar twanged through an old radio player, the sound of oil popping acquainting the early morning crescendo.

A husky, off-tuned singing and tapping foot complimented the enchanting poetical words of the late James Morrison. "L.A Woman Sunday afternoon… Drive thru your suburbs, into your blues… Into your blues…"

Jack was in his own world, the varying instrumentals of the 70s music soothing his hangover as he finished breakfast, scrambling the eggs in the steaming pan a few more seconds, bobbing his head and tapping his feet to the rhythm.

Beyond flabbergasted and speechless at the sight, Alfred approached the unaware cook and sat himself at the island table, observing in amusement.

"I see your hair is burning, hills are filled with fire. If they say I never loved you, you know they are a liar. Drivin' down your freeways…" He trailed off, humming to the song as he lost memory of the particular lyrics, flipping the well done eggs over on the skillet.

"Motel, murder, money, madness.. let's change the mood from glad to sadness." The poetic words of the Doors singer struck notes of familiarity, and he laughed at the irony- his own hunger urging him to finish breakfast for the unknowing butler. The scent of boiling margarine was enough to make him queasy, remembering not to drink so much next time he had the opportunity.

He snatched a piece of toast, stuffing it into his mouth, mumbling the last few lyrics incoherently as he twirled and danced with himself in front of the stove.

"Mr. Mojo rising…" He swayed his hips to the slowing groove of the song, lowering his voice an octave and proudly singing along. "Mr. Mojo rising, Mr. Mojo..." Jack spun around—

-Alfred smirking at him from three feet away.

His heart stopped. The identical nauseating, gut-wrenching fear from the night before carved itself over his face as the leftover crumbs of toast fell from his mouth. The butler bit down on his tongue, commanding himself not to burst out into fits of laughter.

They stared at one another speechless, as the classic rock tune still continued in the background.

Jack struggled to think rationally through the post-haze of his hangover, the skillet of eggs in his left hand trembling.

"Yes, Master Jack?" Alfred inquired, resting his chin on his crossed fingers.

"Master…

Jack"?

Never heard him call me that before.

"Um… Good morning." He awkwardly greeted, presenting the pan. "I made you breakfast."

Curiosity sparkled in the elder's blue eyes, marveling at the statement. "Oh? This is for me?"

He licked the edge of his lower lip as if the question were challenging his motives. However, calming his nerves, Jack smiled. "Yeah… I wanted to do something nice for you, I'm not too great of a suck-up. I hope you like your eggs well done." He began to rant. "I tried sunny side up, but apparently I wasn't a good chef before and I'm not a great one now."

"Well they look marvelous. Thank you."

The blond awkwardly took the note of appreciation and casually nodded back as he turned to fix the plates.

Wow, okay.

I guess the talk with Alfred went better than expected.

During the temporary chef's preparation of breakfast, the old caretaker caught sight of the previous swing of events tattooed upon the young man's neck. Peeking beneath the golden curls were three purple raspberries…

His complexion turned a ghastly pale as he realized what they were. Oh, my Lord…

Jack hardly seemed to notice, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon in front of the old man. "Enjoy."

Alfred gave him a wry smile, picking up his fork and forcing his mind to travel elsewhere. "Smells great." He had to admit, the simmering bacon made his stomach gurgle with anticipation. Better not be poison. He thought, taking a large bite—the taste invigorating his tastebuds. He nodded in approval, giving the young man a thumbs up.

"Don't worry, I didn't poison it." The chef said with a hint of cordiality in his eyes and plastic dimples.

"Oh." The old man smiled. He must also read minds.

"But I think I did burn the eggs a little." He shrugged, beginning to clean the stove.

"Well you didn't burn the house down." He gave Jack a fatherly smile, both becoming aware of their growing fondness for the other.

Jack pulled out a stool, sitting across from the butler as he set up his own plate, the track on the radio playing another by The Doors. The butler jested his head towards the radio, "A blues fan, you are?"

He nodded as he took a bite of crispy bacon. "Mmhm. Especially the Doors and Led Zeppelin, aside from the retro Sinatra times."

"I wouldn't have figured you a classic rock fan." Alfred mused quietly. However, it does make sense.

"What about you, Alfie? Knock any boots off to some blues guitar?" The old man shook his head, hysterical. "You seem like an Allman Brothers type to me, The Eagles, oh. And Tom Petty… You're a heartbreaker for Tom Petty." Jack 'shot off a round' as if hitting right on target with his pistol gesture.

It showed in the old man's eyes. "Allman brothers."

Intuition once again proven correct, Jack victoriously ate a large forkful of eggs enjoying breakfast with his lover's guardian.

"I see you two took the pleasure of starting breakfast without me."

The butler and Jack turned to the roused billionaire in the threshold, the blond's mouth full of eggs. "You needed your beauty sleep."

For Bruce, it was too early for jokes and twangy music as he groaned and rubbed the sleep from his head. "Morning, Alfred." He muttered between yawns, Jack going to the cupboards to fetch a mug.

"Good morning Master Bruce. Jack and I were just discussing his theories on punk rock music."

He could almost chuckle; finding the two bond over tea was more than enough for his brain to handle this morning. Was he still dreaming? He dragged his bare feet to the kitchen and slid into a seat by Jack. "Are you two really now…? Glad to see someone's getting along."

Jack slid a hot cup of black coffee in front of the billionaire. "Here."

"Oh Jesus, thank you." Bruce glorified, cupping the mug within his hands and inhaling the steam and sighing in satisfaction. "See Alfred. Having Jack around is actually quite helpful."

The old man chuckled as Jack punched Bruce in the arm. "I approve, for now anyway."

Jack looked for the golden brown eyes in admiration, more than giddy that everything had fallen right into place. He was happy, had a home, and an excellent boyfriend. His eyes lowered to the billionaire's hands. They were big, rough, and calloused; just the way Jack loved them over his body. He licked his dry lip as he almost fell into a trance, musing that he belonged to Bruce, and that Bruce belonged to him.

That's when he noticed the hint of purple encircling the tan flesh on the billionaire's collar: his marks.

"Ack—Ack-ack…" Jack sputtered as a chunk of chewed food slid down the wrong pipe, the shock choking him. Subtly, yet no so subtly, he motioned to Bruce's exposed neck and collar, the love marks from the night before brighter than a lipstick stain.

"Hmm? You okay, Jack?" Bruce turned to him, patting him on the back.

"What is it…?" Alfred asked, soon catching on.

They were huge. And no doubt there were more. The butler turned back to his food quickly, peering down as he rapidly stirred the remaining portion of his meal. Oh my… Don't fret, you saw nothing, you saw nothing…

Bruce seemed the be the last to catch on, and turned a bright pink as it dawned upon him. he rose him his seat, smiling tightly. "I think I'm going to get a shower…"

"Good idea." Jack beamed.

"Nope. You. Stay." Bruce pointed to the seat, making his exit as rapidly as he had entered.

Alfred took a heavy breath outward, Well… "For now" at least…

"What?!"

"I'm serious!"

"Why… Why do you want to do that, you're going to give me a heart attack!"

"Bruce! Don't be such a drama king. It's just a little chance to get out a little more…"

"You just had a nice outing."

"Yeah. It was terrible."

"Jack, Jack…" Bruce sighed heavily, tugging at the hairs on the top of his head to ease the burden of a moody, needy boyfriend. If he had known the Joker was truly a rebel teenager before, the anarchy phase began to make sense. "I really don't think Gordon would like that…"

"Oh, Gordon Schmordon…The guy doesn't give a rats ass anymore, he saw us with my tongue in your mouth, already. Please… Just for the day. I'll have it back in a few hours." Jack begged, teetering on his tiptoes in front of his lover as he pleaded like a child. He played with the billionaire's rough hands, tugging on his fingers and giving a gently bat of his eye.

Bruce wasn't buying it. "And where exactly are you going to go?"

"Umm… I can't say."

The older man sighed, flipping his palm within the softer hands. "Jack… You know I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what you're going to be up to."

Jack dropped his grasp in frustration, choosing to rather pace around the carpet instead. "I'm just going out, Bruce. I have to run a few errands. Do you not trust me on that?"

Watch yourself, Bruce. He's a live bomb, bound to go off any second… He reminded himself, and relaxed the dancy brown eyes testing his. "I… I do trust you."

"Then just let me do what I want! I'm not going to 'run away' or trespass anyone's property. I just want to do this. I need to." He sucked on his lower lip, near to the point of getting on his knees and begging.

The eyes were certainly hard to ignore.

The brunet sighed. "You'll be back within two hours?"

Jack swooned on his feet, stretching the deal. "Two? Uh…. Think we could make it four?"

The billionaire glared. "Three. And no later than a single minute."

"Really?"

Bruce shook his head, incredulous at himself and his own wit. "Yes, yes! Okay? Are you happy?" He looked up to see Jack grinning like a kid on Christmas. "You have three hours, starting now."

"Perfect!"

"Wait. Do you even have a driver's license?"

Jack stopped in the threshold of the doorway, unsure about the true answer. "…I think. It could be expired. Anyway, I drive like i could be pushing past Alfred's age, I've never gotten any citations that I'm aware of, and I don't plan on adding any to a record."

Bruce had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the irony. "Not a single scratch; and so help you if you light up one cigarette in that thing…"

"Got it Bruce." He skipped away—

"Ah-ta-ta… are you forgetting something, Jack?" Bruce raised his eyebrows insinuatingly, offering a derisive smile.

Jack rolled his brown eyes, and grabbed a hold of the tan angular chin, burying his tongue into the billionaire's inviting mouth, giving a wet, sloppy kiss. He nibbled on the lower lip, dragging it through his teeth lightly and gave a cock of his head. "Thank you, Brucie."

Bruce pulled him off, his cheeks flushing pink. "Alright. Get your ass out of here before I change my mind and pull you into bed with me."

Jack darted his tongue out of his lips, winking an eye to the Batman. "I guess you'll have to wait til later then, lover-boy. Ciao."

The young billionaire watched him saunter out of the doorway, swinging a ring of keys on his finger. He drew in a heavy breath, attempting to relax his stressed muscles. "I'd better not regret this, Jack…" Closing his eyes, he imagined all he could accomplish with only three hours to spare.

A silly thought sparked the lightbulb in his mind.

No….

No, I shouldn't…

He could scarcely hide the grin, the overwhelming sensation snowballing down a hill as anticipation for the idea grew.

"Alfred!" Bruce called out.

No going back.

"I'm going for a little drive, I'll be home late!"

The butler's voice resounded on the intercom a moment later.

"Shall I check the fluids on the Murcielago, Master Wayne?"

"No need, Alfred… I mean the other car."

The 2012 V8 Audi Spyder whistled down the Gotham freeway, its 4.2L engine reving close to the redline as its driver pushed the car to its limits, weaving in and out of traffic like a teenager on their sweet sixteen. "Whooooo-hoo-hooooo!" Jack hooted with excitement, taking his brand new toy out on a pleasure cruise.

This chapter is for all you readers, if there are still any left lol! Who doesn't love a little fluff here and there...
I hope you all enjoy and that my absence has not made you all hate me.
Thank you so much for your feedback, it means the world, and if anyone out there is still keeping up with this please let me know! You guys are the reason I'm writing this.

Much love.