Chapter 21: Safety
*April 1*
Jonathan and I were ignoring tonight's movie choice entirely. Halfway into the opening scene for the classic, my boyfriend took my hand in his and used it to pull me closer until I was resting my head on his shoulder. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he proceeded to lift up my shirt slightly and stroke the scar underneath.
I shut my eyes, recalling the numerous situations when he would toy with the mended flesh. At that seaside restaurant, on the log ride, after Thanksgiving dinner. I blushed when I recalled the way he loomed over me during the lattermost event, intent on bruising my torso with love bites until we were rudely interrupted.
"Your face is getting pink." Jonathan made the observation. "And I doubt it's because we're watching a movie about twelve jurors." His fingers kept moving, the nails digging into my flesh slightly.
I wasn't sure whether to ask for it, but then my eyes locked with those of the man I'd been dating for a little more than ten months and I decided to go for it. "Can you do that again?" My boyfriend gave me a quizzical look and I realized I was being vague. "The thing where you bite me and draw blood. But not an immense amount." I felt that clarification was necessary.
He didn't say anything at first, but then Jonathan moved to press his lips against mine, teeth digging into the lower one moments later. "Do I have the same restrictions today?" My boyfriend asked after leaving behind indentations of his teeth on my lip, his hands slipping under my shirt to caress my waist.
Last time, I had Jonathan keep to my abdomen because my cousins and I were going swimming. But there was no need for him to keep the limitations. "No," I told him with a smile. "But please stick to places I can cover up."
Jonathan nodded before kissing me passionately, his hands slowly lifting up the shirt I'd donned. Pulling away, he yanked the article of clothing over my head and let his eyes rake over my upper body. He had seen me in similar states, but never groped my chest or removed my bra to ensure I wouldn't back out. Instead he admired what he could see.
My boyfriend then leant back down and nibbled on my neck until the gentle bites became harsh. Jonathan gnawed at the skin before sucking on the various nicks made by his incisors until the resulting bruise would be immense.
His lips were tinted red by some of the spilt blood and when he kissed me, I slipped my tongue past his lips to taste the irony substance with him.
The hands which previously caressed my body became a bit frantic, both darting toward the jeans I had donned. "I won't do anything." He attempted to persuade me. "I just want to mark your thigh." Jonathan confessed.
"S-sure." I mumbled, gasping slightly when he tugged the jeans down halfway. Lifting my legs up to help him, Jonathan threw the pants on the floor and took in the sight of me wearing only underwear.
Covering my chest with my hand, I looked away, embarrassed by the longing stares Jonathan gave me. "You're beautiful." He removed the limb from my chest and kissed my lips, then the freshly formed bruise. I realized my boyfriend was making a path when the next area he violently bit was the skin resting over my clavicle. It was oddly nice, and I was growing to like the way his warm hands slid up and down my thighs, squeezing the flesh on occasion. "I'll be gentle." I didn't make the connection of what Jonathan was saying to what he meant until I felt his lips on the upper portion of my left breast, the area not concealed by my blue bra.
He wasn't rough like earlier. These bites were hardly nibbles and he didn't even break the flesh. But then he looked toward my face for a reaction and I turned away, sheepish about how much I'd liked the way his lips felt on the sensitive flesh.
Next Jonathan raked his teeth over a patch of skin below the breast and atop my false ribs. He made a large cluster of marks here, and I bit my knuckle when he ripped open the skin a bit by dragging his nails through the patch of fresh hickeys.
Finally coming to the scar, I felt a tad nervous. However, my boyfriend simply kissed the length of raised skin, causing butterflies to erupt in my stomach. The tender action was sweet, but his grin was anything but.
"Mireille." Jonathan addressed me, his hand stroking my inner thigh as he pulled it away from the other. "Would you like to play a little game."
I was nervous, the feel of his hands on my flesh was soothing, but it was concerning that my legs were now being divided. "What game?" I asked, not willing to participate without first knowing the rules.
"I'll start here." My boyfriend lifted my left leg and gently bit the ankle. "And make my way closer. All you need to do is tell me to stop and I will."
I considered it. It would be interesting to know my own boundaries. "Okay." Jonathan looked at me expectantly for further confirmation. "Yes I would like to play." I gave the definite answer.
It was a strange game and I was beyond nervous, but then he delivered the initial bite and I yelped. Jonathan smirked, of course these bites wouldn't be tender. He probably wanted to leave behind a visual representation of how far he'd gotten. Both for my own contemplation and his gratification.
After five well spaced bites, he was at my knee and I hadn't relented yet. The next few were far closer together as he slowly inched his way up my thigh. It was a completely new sensation. Jonathan's hot breath warming the previously off-limits flesh before marking it while his opposite hand countered the rough treatment by soothingly stroking my right thigh. Although it was embarrassing and I didn't plan on letting him get too far, I also wanted to push myself. He was halfway there when the phone rang and he accidentally snapped his jaw down much harder than before. I screamed shrilly for half a second, the pain no longer pleasant, and pushed him away to look at the wound. It was bleeding a decent amount and would certainly form a very dark bruise. Jonathan quickly apologized before rushing to the phone.
"Hello, this is Dr. Crane." He greeted the caller with malice. "This had better be important." There was a long pause and Jonathan turned to look at me. He appeared concerned and I didn't think it was for my leg. "I see… I'm sure she's fine, have you tried her cell?" I stood up and walked toward him, not minding my state of dress. I just wanted to know what had transpired. "Well, give it a shot. I'm sure Dr. Milenkovic is safe." 'Why would I be in danger', I wanted to ask. "Goodnight." He hung up the phone.
"The Joker has escaped and according to Mr. Bolton, you're currently the only employee close to him who hasn't picked up their phone to receive the warning call." Jonathan nodded toward my purse. "Bolton will probably call you in a few moments. By then, you should formulate a reason for not answering your landline." I nodded and thought over a simple explanation. When my phone began ringing, I walked over to my purse, donning nothing more than underwear.
Even though the news Jonathan just delivered was terrifying, he still wrapped his arms around my middle from behind and bit the growing bruise on my neck while I answered the cellphone. "Hello?" I said when picking up the call.
"Dr. Milenkovic, I'm calling to let you know the Joker and Harley Quinn have escaped." Monsieur Bolton started.
Rather than respond, I gasped when Jonathan started pushing down on the wound at my inner thigh. Small beads of blood formed at the deep punctures before slipping down my leg.
"Is something the matter Dr. Milenkovic?" The head security guard asked, spurred by the noise.
"No, I'm just shocked." I swatted Jonathan's hand. "When did he escape?"
"Less than an hour ago. He left behind a bomb, but Batman recently determined it was a fake. The clown's April Fools joke." He explained.
"Are there any injured?" I asked shakily, Jonathan's nails raking across my abdomen slowly while he nibbled my ear, thin pink lines forming along the pale flesh as I spoke.
"None that we know of." Monsieur Bolton stated.
"Call me if you find anyone in need of treatment. Okay?" I asked.
"Sure, but why didn't you pick up the landline. I called it earlier." He grilled me.
"I'm staying at-" Jonathan kissed my jawbone "-my boyfriend's place tonight." I felt him grin.
"Well stay safe." He instructed me before hanging up.
I shut my phone to address said boyfriend. "Do you think I can spend the week here?" I asked. "I'd feel a lot safer with you than alone in that apartment."
He smirked. "It would be my pleasure." His hand found my scar and began rubbing it once more. "May I ask why you wanted me to do this to you?" Jonathan pushed down on the developing mark between my legs, causing me to inhale sharply.
I turned around. "I like it when you kiss me and behave sweetly, but it feels filtered. This," I guided his hand up the trail of bruises he'd made on my chest until it was cupping my cheek "feels honest." I leaned into the warm palm.
"So you'd prefer I act the way I wish to, not modify my behavior for your sake?" He asked slowly, a look of befuddlement on his face.
"Yes." I kissed his red tinted lips with my own bruised ones. "A healthy relationship has honesty at its core. Don't you agree?"
"Yes. Absolutely." He said absently.
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*April 3*
I had a small goal in need of fulfilling by the week's end: catching Mireille in the act of consuming her pill and confronting her about said medication. I would feign concern, ask if she's coming down with something, and throw the excuse back at her later on if I caught her once more. Naturally I would need to wait for an ideal opportunity, but then the occasion came to me.
It was ten fifteen in the morning and we were stuck in standstill traffic. Typically we would have reached work well over an hour ago. However, due to extensive damages to one of the main bridges caused by a turf war between the Penguin and Black Mask, a lot of people were taking same road we were forced to.
It started out small: Mireille looked at the car's clock several times within a minute. Next, my girlfriend began to tap her foot against the floor of the car and her hands clenched at the fabric of the bag she had on her lap. So then, she routinely took the medicine at ten in the morning.
At first I was pleased, knowing she would have to pull out the case and retrieve the pill mere inches from me. But then I thought about why Mireille was so intent to take the medication on time. Considering we hadn't had sex and it was off the table according to her, missing a few doses should be fine. However, that wouldn't be the case if she figured we could be engaging in intercourse any day now.
Is that what she assumed would come of us living together? That I would push her into having sex with me. Or was she unsure if she could control her own lust? Mireille did let me get exceptionally close to her Saturday night, perhaps she was willing to break her promise now that we'd progressed so far.
Five more minutes went by and my girlfriend finally reached into her bag. Waiting until she'd removed the pill, I glanced over. "What's that for?"
"Nothing." She closed her hand, not able to formulate a decent lie right away.
"Mireille, you've been anxious for a while now." I referred to her behavior. "Is something wrong?"
Acting concerned was good, Mireille didn't like making me worry. "I just have a headache, we've been in this car for so long." She got rid of the evidence by taking the medicine before I could get a good look at it.
"Next time let me know, I was getting worried." I falsely confessed.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Thus the seed of guilt was planted in my girlfriend's head. A few more close calls like this and she would fold.
XXXXX
"Sorry our appointment is running late, traffic was horrible today and my typical thirty minute commute lasted well over two hours." I explained to my current patient. "Anyway, how are you today Monsieur Dent?"
He grumbled in response, leading me to believe I was dealing with his less stable half. And judging by the angry scowl, Two-Face wasn't up for talking today.
I shrugged and began to inspect the marred half of his face in search of infections. After determining there were none, I kept looking for a while longer. His healthy teeth and gums were visible through the gap where his cheek had been burnt off. The cigarette smoking hadn't affected them yet, but if his habit persisted then his gums and teeth would certainly face the consequences along with the rest of his body. The remaining muscles on the left half of his face twitched when I gently dabbed his exposed mandible with antiseptic. It didn't feel like I was looking at a human, rather I felt as if I were gazing upon an anatomy mannequin back in school. A very realistic one.
The rectus muscles of left eye were also partially visible due to the severe burns and his subsequent loss of eyelids. Thankfully, the lacrimal gland wasn't damaged and kept the exposed eye from drying out. However the tear ducts were singed closed and the lack of a lower eyelid prevented the liquid from even being redirected in the first place. Because of this, you could see the sheen of excess tears on what remained of his left cheek.
"Stop gawking!" My patient demanded, his eye now clearly fixated on me and the pupil contracting slightly due to his distaste.
"Sorry." I had to tear my gaze away. "Your face is captivating, I didn't mean to stare." Bowing my head to examine his scarred arm, I faced the consequences of my poor vocabulary choice.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He growled.
I shrugged. "It means what I said. Your ability to persevere astounds me, and the fact that your eye is still functional and you can speak well is a miracle." I dared to gaze at the interwoven muscles. "Even the exposed flesh has started to toughen to the environment to help prevent further infections. It's amazing how adaptable the body is, even after all that trauma."
"You call this a miracle?" He scoffed.
"Yes." I nodded. "But it's also a tremendous show of determination on your part. Lesser men would be ashamed, but you retained your confidence and charisma."
"Why are you trying to flatter me Doc? You want me to put a hit on someone for you?" The man tried to discern my motive.
I shook my head wildly. "No, no, no. I was merely expressing admiration. When I fall down, sometimes it's hard to get back up. But you-"
"It doesn't do you any good to admire someone for what they've accomplished. You're the one who needs to pick yourself back up. You need to be sure of yourself. There is no room for self-doubt in Gotham. You want your hand held? This isn't the place." He looked away. "You can't always rely on heroes Doc, you have to depend on yourself."
XXXXX
*April 5*
Holding a brown box, I approached my boyfriend to share with him the contents of parcel. "Do you want to see the best purchase I've ever made for Jolie?" I asked, deeming this important enough to interrupt his reading.
Jonathan held up a finger, most likely needing a moment to finish the paragraph he was on. After a brief passage of time, he pushed up his glasses and set down the book. "What did you buy for the puppy?" He asked, playing along.
"Jolie has been in need of a new collar for a while, so I went online to look for one and I found this."Opening the box in my hands, I pulled out a small, six inch long barrel hooked onto a leather collar. "A craftsman in Oregon makes them. He even etched her name into the wood." I showed my boyfriend the carved name on the stereotypical St. Bernard whiskey barrel. "Now, you may be thinking it'll be too heavy, but I don't intend to fill it with alcohol. However," I unscrewed one side of the barrel, "There is a compartment."
"Which you will use for?" Jonathan prompted me.
My smile grew a tad."Carrying messages." He rose an eyebrow. "What, you never passed notes in class?" I asked.
"Mireille, my classmates threw paper airplanes at my head, typically containing rude comments about our teacher. The instructor in question would then claim I was responsible for their manufacturing and punish me with detention or berate me in the middle of class." Jonathan explained.
"Oh." I murmured, suddenly far less eager to train the puppy to be our private messenger.
After realizing he'd dampened the mood, Jonathan spoke again. "However, I'm sure you don't intend to incriminate me with bits of paper as well."
I nodded and started to explain the training involved to bring such a plan to life.
XXXXX
*April 6*
I left my bedroom at around eleven at night, certain my girlfriend was asleep and I could commence working. However, she must've thought the same of me.
"No, we haven't." My girlfriend's voice traveled from her bedroom. Curious, I walked closer. "Teresa, it is a house. I sleep in a separate room." So she was on the phone with her friend this late at night. Deciding eavesdropping may provide useful information, I waited for Mireille to speak again.
"I slept in the same bed as him in October and we were both too tired to do anything." There was a pause. "No." An unnaturally long lull followed. Either Teresa was giving a monologue or my girlfriend was thinking something over. "Maybe? I don't know." I desperately wanted context to accompany these snips, but admitted hearing one sided information was better than nothing.
"If you're going to manufacture a scenario, keep it realistic. There's no way I would stroll around the house in lingerie, let alone make crepes wearing those skimpy things." I paused to picture such an event and felt my face heat up. It wouldn't be an unwelcome sight. "I wear a shirt and long pajama pants." Mireille described her typical morning attire. Another brief pause. "I don't intend to look sexy, I prefer comfort and modesty." The follow-up question irritated my girlfriend. "Because, I can't satisfy him physically and teasing him by wearing sheer fabric and satin would be rude."
I then heard her sputter. "That is most certainly considered sex, it even has it in the name. Besides how would I even prompt that?" There was a long break in the conversation before my girlfriend hushed her friend. "Teresa, that is far to graphic for my taste." After a few moments she responded to her friend by saying, "ha ha, very funny."
There was a lot of silence before Mireille took a deep breath. "Because if anything does happen, I'll be able to enjoy the experience rather than worry about the condom breaking or finding the nearest convenience store to buy Plan B." I smiled, so her resolve was weakening. After a few moments she added. "No, I haven't told him." She admitted sheepishly. "Because," my girlfriend whispered something unintelligible before giggling. "Yeah." Mireille sounded completely at ease now. "Of course." She laughed at what her friend said. "Another day Teresa, I'm getting tired."
Seconds later, she wished her caller goodnight and I heard the phone snap shut. Walking away, I attempted to piece things together in my head.
(A/N: It's actually been a while since I last got a review. If you have the time, I would really appreciate some feedback.)