Bad Guy

by takentomygrave

"His jacket smells of cigarette smoke and teenage boy, fabric rough and worn out under Veronica's fingertips. She wonders when the last time he washed it was. It reeks terribly, but it's an oddly comforting smell. It's familiar, even if it does remind her of the smoke that had polluted the air when the bomb went off." originally published on ao3, 2019-04-10. alt ending Smut fic.

His jacket smells of cigarette smoke and teenage boy, fabric rough and worn out under Veronica's fingertips. She wonders when the last time he washed it was. It reeks terribly, but it's an oddly comforting smell. It's familiar, even if it does remind her of the smoke that had polluted the air when the bomb went off.

Vaguely, she can hear the television playing in the background. She's not sure where she is. She knows she's in a motel, but she's not sure what motel. She doesn't even know if she's in Sherwood anymore. It has all been a blur, him forcing her into his car, rushing her with a, 'Hurry, Veronica.' before dumping a half packed bag in the trunk. It had been nothing as he had quickly floored the pedal, and she was left to press her hand against the glass and stare out the window solemnly. They had driven away from her house at an alarming speed, leaving behind everything Veronica has ever loved or worked for. If she's being honest with herself, there wasn't much for her to leave behind. She had her house, yes, but her school was in rubbles. In the ash laid the corpses of her old classmates, who hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones before the bomb went off and killed all of them. If the bodies hadn't been completely destroyed by the blast, that is. She has no clue what the true aftermath was. J.D had whooshed her away, turning her away from the mess before she could get a good look and instantly regret everything she had done.

She knows that wasn't what J.D had wanted. He wants her to thrive off of that; off the pain of the families, and bodies of the people that she had once called her peers. He had wanted her to stand over them, marvel in the fact that she had been the one to survive, as if his weird obsession with her was a blessing. She supposes she shouldn't ungrateful, as twisted as it is. If he hadn't taken an interest in her then she would have joined the destroyed bodies of the deceased.

But also, if he hadn't taken an interest in her, maybe those bodies wouldn't be there. Maybe they'd still be alive, milling around the school and mumbling shit about each other under their breath, the girls calling each other sluts and boys having mindless conversations about whatever sports team they decided to dedicate their time to. Heather Chandler would still be alive and in control of their social tyranny, and Heather Duke would still be fasting, starving herself so she looked what she thought was perfect. And Heather McNamara would still be in Heather Chandler's shadow, following whatever cruel things the girl told her to do.

Veronica would still be on her way to graduating and going off to a fantastic college, fulfilling her dreams and becoming the woman she was always meant to be. But instead, she was lying against the chest of a killer, her fingers absentmindedly clasping the thin fabric of his shirt. Instead of making a good difference, she aided in the death of hundreds of students. Instead of actually doing something with her life, she had fired a bullet into one of the school's biggest assholes. Sure, they had been dicks, but they were still people, and in the end Veronica was still a murderer.

She closes her eyes when she feels J.D's fingers brush along her scalp, parting the strands of her hair. It takes her a second to realize what he's looking for, and when she does she recoils. But it's all in vain, because he's got his other arm around her waist tightly and he doesn't seem like he's going to let up anytime soon.

"I got you pretty bad." His voice is rough and raspy, not a single hint of guilt in it. He doesn't actually feel bad, and Veronica knows that as he pokes at the wound on her scalp. Out of instinct, she jerks away again, and Jason sighs. It's his sigh where he's disappointed in her, as if him slamming her head against the wall was her fault.

"You're going to have to wash this out." He presses down against the wound again, and this time it hurts her to the point where tears prick in her eyes, and she has to bite her lip to keep herself silent. Veronica Sawyer does not cry, she tells herself. She doesn't cry about much, and she knows in reality she can't cry. If she cries in front of him, he'll take it as weakness, and go on one of his 'was this all for nothing?' rants.

Suddenly, he shifts under her, and for a moment she thinks he's going to let her go. Instead, he brings his fingers in front of her face, and at first she doesn't understand why until he sighs and rubs his thumb and pointer finger together. Crimson smears along the skin, and Veronica has the swallow down a sob. She's bleeding from the head and she knows she's bleeding a lot with how heavy the blood stain is. It's clumped onto his finger. The sight is disgusting, and Veronica finds herself feeling a bit queasy.

"Come on." He sighs, pulling away from her and pushing himself off the bed. Veronica rolls to the side, staring up at him with tired eyes as she waits for him to elaborate. He motions towards the bathroom once before turning and walking into it, his jacket tail flying behind him slightly. She wonders why he hasn't taken it off yet. She's only seen him once without it, and that was when they were plotting to kill Kurt and Ram, and after they had hooked up. She isn't given any more time to think about it when she hears the water turn on, swallowing down her nerves and pushing herself up off the bed. She regrets it almost immediately when the room begins to spin, and she feels bile rise in her throat. She only has a few seconds to grab onto the nearby dresser before she's leaning over and hurling.

It hurts to throw up. She's going nothing in her stomach, already having emptied everything when the school incident first happened. She had buckled over and thrown up right where the steps of her school used to be, and that was without seeing anything. If she had seen the final mess, she was sure she would have passed out.

"Damnit, Veronica."

She sees his boots before she hears him, followed by the tail of that sorrow ridden coat. She can't help but look whenever the coat is brought to her attention. It was there through everything. It's there in her nightmares, when she's reliving the horrible crimes she had aided in committing. It's everywhere. She wants to fucking burn it and stomp on the charred remains of it, but she knows if she even considered it he'd be pulling his gun on her.

It's obvious he's not used to kindly dealing with people when he struggles to pull her hair back. Perhaps it's because it's so short, but Veronica knows that it's not that hard to tuck away. She can't even count the amount of times she had to hold hair back when one of the Heathers purged. His hold on her hair is tight and painful, the grip on the strands doing nothing to soothe the throbbing on her head. If anything, he's making the situation worse, but she knows better than to say something about it when he's in such a hyperactive mood. She had seen his expression after the school had been destroyed. There had been a light in his eyes that she had only seen once, and they had been when they had sex. It was a release, seeing the downfall of others. And plus, she can't really blame him for sloppily pulling away her hair when he's missing a finger, courtesy of Veronica's will and a gun.

"God fucking- goddamnit!" J.D lets out a string of curses when she lets out another round of dry retching, one hand resting on her stomach as if it could soothe the pain she was inflicting on herself.

"Is this really just from the head injury?" J.D asks when Veronica finally stops throwing up her insides, standing up straight with her hand over her mouth and the other still on the dresser, holding onto the wood painfully tight. She doesn't reply in fear that if she tries to speak she's going to lose it again. She can tell her silence irritates him when he knits his brows together and a little crease forms between them. It's his thinking face. It frightens her. She doesn't like when he thinks, anymore. His thoughts, which she had once considered revolutionary, now terrified her.

"I can probably get Advil from a drug store, but you're going to have to wait it out for now." He tells her with a shrug. If Veronica was in the right state, she would have been in disbelief. How could he undermine everything? How could he press down every small thing that had happened until it's compressed into a tiny little memory, stored in the back of his mind, and forget about it as if it's nothing?

"You have to clean this shit out of your hair first." Veronica knows by shit; he means her blood. The blood that would still be in her body if he wasn't so fucking psychotic. She was about to have to clean it out in a gross hotel shower with probably shitty water pressure, and that was going to be hell. But she supposes hell is nothing to what she's already witnessed.

The bathroom floor is cold under her feet as she pads to the shower. It's old, that much she can tell. It's definitely not from the eighties, and the interior shows that. The shower curtain is ripped and faded, crumpling noisily when its pushed to the side.

At least it's clean, Veronica manages to think through her dizzy haze. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.

As dazed as she is, she's in a pretty neutral mood until she feels somebody tugging at her cardigan. Then it's confusion that hits her. She doesn't need him to undress her. The last time he got to do that they ended up sleeping with each other, and she wasn't in the mood or in a well enough mental state for that. She doesn't even know if she ever wants to do that again with him, no matter how good it had been. She's not sure if she could handle the guilt that came with it, no matter how many times he got her off.

"What are you doing?"

He stills slightly behind her, and she knows he's pulling that expression again. "I'm undressing you, Veronica." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which, she supposes it is, but she still doesn't understand why he's taken it upon himself to do it.

"I can do that myself." Veronica argues. She may be injured and somewhat dizzy, but she's not fully incapacitated. She's still able to pry the clothes from her body. Her clothes are dirty, but nowhere as gross as they should have been. She had been cast away from the school, forced to hide and look the other way, J.D's hand resting on the small of her back as if it would comfort her. It did nothing to silence her cry when the school went down, hearing the explosion loud and clear despite her hands being pressed tightly over her ears. It had done nothing to smother the sound, even when he had covered her hands with his own.

J.D steps away, opening his arms slightly to motion around aimlessly. "Go ahead."

Veronica can hear him turn around and start shuffling through the compartment above the sink. There's nothing in it besides the crappy shampoo and conditioner, plus the bar of soap that's so tiny you can barely use it after one wash.

The cardigan drops to the floor behind her noiselessly, followed by her shakily unbuttoning her blouse. Before she had no problem stripping herself of her clothing. She had happily left the clothes drop to the muddy ground of her backyard. Things were much different at that point. She didn't have a body count and a guilty conscious weighing down her every thought.

Her fingers shake as she grips the end of her shirt, squeezing her eyes shut before tugging it over her head. Much to her surprise, J.D continues to move around behind her. She had expected him to stop and make some type of comment, and his silence calms Veronica a little bit. It's not enough of a solace to stop her shaking when she reaches back to unhook her bra. She fumbles around with the latches somewhat, her breath hitching when the movement behind her stops and she hears a sound.

"Let me do it." He doesn't ask. He just moves her fingers away, leaving her arms to hang awkwardly by her sides. He makes quick work of the garment, his fingers quickly undoing each latch in a matter of seconds. It makes Veronica's cheeks tint. She shouldn't have been so incapacitated that she can't do something she's been doing for years.

The bra drops from her, and out of the corner of her eye she can see him kick it so it's over near her cardigan and blouse. Her fingers grip the nearby cabinet tightly. Her upper body in completely exposed now, her breasts out for him to see. She doesn't know if he's looking at them or not, but he makes no move to touch her.

She needs to get rid of the idea that he's about to do something to her. He's absolutely fucking crazy, no doubt in that. But he's always understood consent, and Veronica is beyond glad about that. She doesn't think she could handle any more fucked up shit from him. Or in general. One more thing and she'll for sure lose it.

She doesn't even bother struggling with her skirt. She just lets him do it, unbuttoning it hastily and letting it drop to the floor. She doesn't let him do her underwear, although, leaving that to herself. Her fingers play with the hem of them nervously, rubbing the frayed fabric while Veronica thought over her situation once again. He's moved away from her again, now leaning into the surprisingly decent sized shower. Veronica robotically pushes her underwear down when she hears the shower start. She forces herself to ignore the fact that she's completely nude and he's still decked head to toe in his usual freak show attire.

Absentmindedly, she crosses her arms against her chest in a feeble attempt to cover her boobs. It does jack shit for her, only rousing a chuckle from J.D when he takes a glance at her. He doesn't say anything when she casts her eyes to the ground. He just silently steps away from the shower and motions to the running water.

"After you." He smiles lightly, but there's an edge to it. Veronica doesn't question it and takes a step forward, slowly but surely shuffling into the shower. She doesn't look at J.D when she reaches for the curtain, grasping the crinkled material gently and pulling on it, closing it loudly. She doesn't get to close it completely, although, before it's being pulled back again, and J.D is looking at her with a complex and morbidly humored expression.

"Jason." She murmurs. It's a light warning, but who is she kidding? It wouldn't do anything even if it was soaked in conviction. It just makes him cock a sharp brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

"Veronica." He mimics before stepping away and crouching down to untie his shoe. Veronica sighs softly and quickly closes the curtain again. She hasn't stepped directly under the water yet, but she's dreading it when she places her hand under the shower and finds that it's really, really fucking hot and that this shithole motel somehow has decent water pressure.

She makes quick work of the temperature and dulls it down so it's no longer steaming. It still hurts, but it's much better than before. As much as she would love to, there's no way to fully eliminate the pain.

Veronica squeezes her eyes shut and captures her lip between her teeth, but it does nothing to silence her small scream when it all rains down on her and she's struck with a wave of pain. She has to bite her fist to keep herself from crying. The wound on her head screams in pain as its subjected to a cleanse that Veronica knows is well needed but is starting to wonder if it's optional with how bad it's hurting her.

She can't even move to brush the hair away from it because she the moment she pulls her hand away from her mouth he'll be able to hear her crying, and that'll only end with them fighting. She can't handle another fight at the moment, and knowing how deranged he is, she doesn't think he can, either. If she's able to keep his temper down, she'll be able to keep herself alive and in decent shape long enough to figure out what the fuck to do with her life. But if she pisses him off, he'd flip, and it'll be over for her emotionally.

She doesn't open her eyes at first when the curtain opens. It's probably just him judging her for crying, ready to hit her with that disappointed sigh. But the sigh never comes, and instead she's met with a moment of awkward silence before he's brushing past her and she's stumbling forward, leaning against the shower wall.

She looks behind her with a gasp.

"What the fuck?" She finally finds her true voice, hissing out the confused and aggravated question. The water is barely spraying him, leaving barely visible droplets resting on his bare chest, his eyes squinting to keep the spray out of his vision.

She doesn't need help showering, even if the shower is still spinning and she's constantly on the verge of vomiting. She's old enough to take care of herself when it came to something as simple as showering, even if she was hurt. The shock of his appearance is enough to distract her from the torturous wound she's got on her scalp, the caked blood clumping her hair together completely forgotten about.

"You're not going to get anything done if I leave you to do it yourself." He tells her knowingly. She wants to kick him out with a witty response, but he's right and it kills her. She's been demoted to such a weak state of mind where she can't even wash her hair. She had thought she could before, but as she skims over the idea she once again realizes how tired she actually is. The thought of cleaning herself off seems exhausting now. And as much as she hates the idea of giving into the whole 'helpless maiden' character, him taking care of her seems like heaven.

"You didn't have to get in the shower with me."

"I can't exactly do it otherwise, darling."

"That doesn't mean get in." Veronica let's her voice drop hopelessly. She's a walking contradiction. One minute she despises him, and another minute she's leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut when his hands move to rest on her shoulders.

"Relax." He murmurs and gently rubs small circles on the back of her neck. Veronica's mind draws a blank as she tries to remember a time where he was ever this nice. Even when they originally hooked up before all the bullshit.

His movements are a bit awkward due to him not having his middle finger, but Veronica really can't complain about it. She's the one that shot it off.

He doesn't give her a warning before he's moving his hand upwards and parting her hair, bringing her attention back to the wound on her head.

"Sorry." He mutters lowly.

It's a simple apology, but to Veronica it translates to, "Sorry for destroying everything." But who is she kidding, he's not sorry. He's not sorry for anything.

Veronica can't bite back the shriek that violently rips from her when he applies pressure to it, cowering away against the wall of the shower.

"Jesus, Veronica." He says, and his disappointment is palpable.

Bastard. Veronica thinks vaguely as she pries her eyes open. He doesn't understand, and she doesn't think he ever will. He's numb, and he doesn't react to pain like a normal person should. She had just taken his finger off hours ago, and he's back to acting like it never happened.

Veronica has to bite her tongue a thousand times to keep her crying down, but eventually the blood is out of her hair and she feels slightly less disgusting than before. At least, the physical disgust. The internal feeling of disgust still lingers, tearing her apart and making her wish she could just shrivel up and die. She doesn't want to die, really, but she's not sure if she has a choice in whether she lives or dies as long as she's around J.D

She hears the snap of a shampoo bottle being opened from behind her. She prepares herself for some more scorching pain but is met with relief when he shampoos around it. Through her headache and nausea, she's able to enjoy the feeling of him gently scratching at her scalp.

It's so peaceful, and for a second she's able to delude herself into thinking they're healthy. She's able to lie and tell herself that they didn't just commit mass murder by blowing up her school. In that moment, it's all a bullshit, cleaned up fairy tale.

He pulls his hands away and tells her to tilt her head back. She obliges and lets the rain wash out the cheap two-in-one shampoo. Vaguely, she feels J.D run his fingers through her hair to help separate the strands, purging her of the filth that had just tainted it. She winces when he breaks through some knots but says nothing of it. She wants to keep the peace, even if it's all an illusion. She would happily welcome being delusional if it meant ignoring the truth.

"Things are going to change, Veronica." He begins, ripping Veronica from her false reality. She looks down at the ground, watching the water swirl down the drain as she waits for him to continue rambling. "We're going to get back in that car tomorrow and drive as far as we can before we find somewhere to settle down. Leave all of this behind." It's a mumble towards the end, and all Veronica can do is stare incredulously at the shower drain.

"Leave this all behind?" Her voice goes high. He's crazy. He's fully lost it. They can't leave behind anything except their homes and the bodies of their deceased peers. "Leave what?"

"Don't be stupid, Veronica." He chides her. If Veronica wasn't shell-shocked by what he had said, she would have frowned. Veronica Sawyer was not stupid, even if she had wasted her intelligence on picking lip gloss colors the majority of high school . "We'll find somewhere to stay and then we'll just live our lives like we wanted to. You're the one that told me you wanted to grow up and get away from everything."

"I didn't mean it like this…" Veronica whispers. J.D laughs quietly under his breath, low and cynical, and moves away from her to get the soap. He lathers it in his hands, softly humming under his breath as he does. Veronica assumes he's going to clean her, and as sad as it is that she needs somebody else to do that for her, she's open to the idea.

"You never mean things." He utters, and it's more than a little bit bitter. He sighs when Veronica looks down at her feet again with a grimace. "You see my problem, Veronica? I do these things for you and then you go ahead and tell me it wasn't what you wanted. Do you not realize the power behind these things? Do you realize what we did? God, Veronica, we made a whole new world."

"We killed people, Jason." Veronica's voice cracks, her eyes falling shut as she fights back more tears. They didn't create a whole new world. They just took some people out of the current one and somehow convinced themselves that it was for the better.

J.D sighs heavily. "You can't be picky, Veronica."

Veronica opens her mouth to speak, but she finds herself unsure how to continue when she feels his hands gently slide around the dips of her hips slowly, soap suds running from his palms down her legs to the drain. She registers his hands sliding up, warmth in his palms and fingertips pressing into her skin, his intended path taking his hands toward her soft chest.

Veronica's eyes flutter open slightly at the feeling of skin to skin contact. Before he had strayed away from touching her, except when it came to her hair and now that they were hands, on she doesn't know how to feel. It's familiar, and in a way comforting, despite all the chaos that they had caused.

She knows that she should lean away immediately, be repulsed by his touch. But she can't find it in her to actually hate him at that moment. She can't find it in herself to be disgusted when he slowly moves to cup the underside of her breast, no matter how many times she had sworn she despised him in the past couple hours. She knows that he's a terrible, terrible person and that she was even worse for not doing anything. But at that moment, it doesn't really matter. She can't feel anything but a strange sort of contentedness, a silent release gifted to her by her biggest mental breakdown yet. Hysteria, she thinks.

"I made us God back there." He continues talking, laughing ever so softly under his breath when Veronica goes almost completely limp, leaning back against him and sighing contently. She's not sure where this is heading, but wherever it goes is fine with her.

Sex, she thinks when his hands start to roam upwards and he begins to actually cup her breasts fully. It's not about cleaning anymore and she knows that. It was about cleaning when he was clearing the disgusting clump of blood from her hair. Maybe it was about that when he originally picked up the soap. But it's not like that anymore, and she knows that for sure when he gently thumbs over her nipple.

She hates that she's able to close her eyes and forget about all the bloodshed and pain they had left behind when he moves his hand and brushes her hair out of the way, kissing gently behind her ear.

She's not sure how far they're going to go, and she's unsure if she's even in a good enough mental state for it, but she's taking it for what it is and pulling away. The shower suddenly seems so much smaller than it was before, so cramped with the two of them in it. It's enough for her to turn around, positioning her perfectly so she's not too far from him, her hands on his chest. She can feel it rise and fall with each steady intake. He was so calm while Veronica's heart was starting to do that stupid thing where it beat what felt like inhumanly fast just at the sight of him.

Gently, she runs her fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest. Neither of them say anything as they stand there in silence, the water now only skimming the lower half of Veronica's back. She's moved too far out from under it.

She looks up at him, some of her wet hair sticking to her face messily. She watches him through thick eyelashes, her tongue swiping along her bottom lip briefly as she wets them.

Veronica's never been too good with kissing, and J.D certainly doesn't eliminate the issue, even when he's the one taking control. She's hesitant at first, uncertain despite this not being their first time. Softly, she hears him chuckle and it's not much longer till he's cupping the sides of her face and taking the lead.

It's a strange feeling, having his tongue underneath hers. That's how it is as he tangles it with hers, tilting his head and kissing her with a type of passion she doesn't think she'll ever be able to give back. She tries to, at least, pressing back against him and clumsily moving her mouth. This is a lot different than when they had hooked up in her backyard. There had only been one sword hanging over her head, and that had been Heather Chandlers wrath. She had no body count at that point. Only somebody who used to be the world's biggest bitch on her ass.

But now she's gone, and all Veronica is left with is her psychotic, serial killer boyfriend. Her fingers have found their way to the back of his head, and she's playing with the small strands at the back of his neck. She's let her arms hang around his neck loosely now, keeping him close while still giving him space to move and touch her as he wanted.

He presses his lips against the pulse of her throat gently, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh when her breathing hitches. She can feel his quick grin, and she has to fight back a blush. It's embarrassing how easily he can turn her into mush, even after showing how terrible of a person he truly is. She doesn't have much time to recover from it, because soon he's sucking on the area and pressing his tongue into her skin, making her lose her train of thought. Her fingers close around his shoulder, her nails digging into him slightly when he slides his teeth down to her collarbones, a purplish blue bruise blooming across her throat when he nips.

"Veronica?" He mumbles against her collarbone. She leans away slightly, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Can I?" He asks, and then he's bringing his hand down between her legs, cupping her sex lightly. Veronica's cheeks burn at the action. She appreciates that he's asking for consent, but he knows the answer already. She wouldn't be kissing him right now if she didn't want it.

Sick fuck, she curses herself when she nods, her cheeks flaming even darker when she picks up his smile. The same smile where he raised his brows and gave her a look that has her usually questioning what she's doing. It was the same smile he had given her when she had first approached him at his table.

"Go over here." He directs her towards where he had been before, shuffling out of the way so she could press against the shower wall without having the knob digging into her back. She's sure that he's just about to go for it, so it's a surprise when he sinks to his knees in front of her.

"Jason." She says with wide eyes. He's under some of the spray now, the hair slowly starting to stick to his forehead. He's not soaked, but it is aiding him in looking like a complete mess. It's oddly attractive.

"Veronica."

She blinks down at him in surprise before her whole face flame and he snickers quickly. A gasp is torn from her when he lifts her leg, placing it over his shoulder. She's quick to grab onto him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she fights for dear life to stay up. It's not like she's about to fall at any minute, but with her headache and the fact that she only has one leg to her advantage is alarming, and she knows that it's only going to get worse once he begins.

Veronica watches him as he places a gentle kiss on her inner thigh, his lips lingering over the spot for a few seconds before he begins to move up. They've only done this twice before, and it was the backyard and when they had the incident in the car. She remembers feeling disgust then, having murdered somebody not even fifteen minutes before that, yet that disgust is gone. It's nowhere to be found as he inches his way up.

"Jason." Veronica whines lightly. She's impatient, but who could blame her? His lips are almost right there, hovering just at the crease. She's more than ready to get started, but J.D doesn't care. He just smirks up at her, a wicked expression on his face.

"Be patient, Veronica. Or I won't give it to you."

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. She doesn't have time for that. She's got a terrible throbbing in her head and an ache between her thighs, and the antidote for it is right fucking there.

"You owe it to me." She mutters, her fingers tightening her grip on his hair somewhat. He winces slightly before sighing and rolling his eyes dramatically, muttering, "Of course." under his breath.

Her gasp is sordid, even if it is just in surprise. He's finally moved to where she wants him, and he's using his tongue in ways that more than unholy. It's something that makes Veronica's breathing hitch and her eyelids flutter shut, opening a few seconds later to stare back down at him. His eyes are closed, his dark lashes more prominent against his pale skin than they've ever been. He's gorgeous, crazy or not. A beautiful face with a mouth that she's more than grateful for, especially when it draws a sharp gasp from her and her hips jerk.

The hand in his hair falls down to her shoulder, her other one taking its place. She's digging her nails into his skin and she knows that, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, it urges him on. Her nails scrape over freckled skin, her head falling back against the shower wall when he presses himself closer and slowly inserts a finger in her.

It doesn't hurt her in any sense, but it's a strange sensation. She feels brand new, even though it had only been a few weeks since her first time. It's good, though, matched with his tongue. He's slow with the first finger, but it's not much longer till he adds the second.

He keeps his finger consistent, but he makes a change with his mouth. Suddenly, he's sucking on her clit, and it makes Veronica gasp loudly, her thighs shakily slightly. She's not ready to orgasm, but god this is good. It's beyond good. It's fucking amazing, actually, and Veronica's not ashamed to hide that when she grinds against his face.

She expects him to stop and tell her to be patient, but instead she's once again met with the same enthusiasm. He allows her to basically ride his face, making small, little whimpers every time he moves his finger along with the rhythm of his tongue. Her hands are in his hair again, tugging desperately as she struggles to control herself. She doesn't remember it being this good before, but maybe he has something to prove now. Maybe it's an apology. Whatever it is, she doesn't care because it's so fucking good and she never wants it to stop.

And then oh, his tongue is inside her. It's shallow but rough, hot and heavy, and she finds herself losing herself more and more. It's building up inside of her, her thighs shaking and her eyes squeezing themselves shut as she prepares herself for her orgasm. She can't even focus on her headache at this point with how intense everything was. He's fucking her with both his fingers and his tongue now and it's so overwhelming. It's attacking all her senses at once and she's so close to going over the edge.

It's a few more moments of it and then she's choking out his name and tugging on his hair, moving against his face with a loud whine. It's an explosive orgasm that takes everything she has, leaving her exhausted and beyond satisfied. Her thighs shake violently while it happens, and by the time it's dumb she feels numb.

She slumps against the shower wall, panting loudly. She's holding onto the soap ledge tightly in fear that the moment J.D lets go of her she's going down.

Slowly, he moves away from her, gently directing her leg down. He grins up at her, his mouth and surrounding area slick, his eyelashes sticky even after he wipes at them. It makes her entire body flame, and she's suddenly embarrassed, no longer acting in the heat of the moment.

He doesn't seem bothered by it, even in the slightest. He's still grinning up at her, the smile never falling even when he pushes himself off his knees. She knows what's coming next, but she almost wants to challenge it. She wants to give something in return, but she doesn't know how to. If she had even the slightest idea of how to give a halfway decent blowjob she'd be doing it right then and there. But she didn't, and the shower water was running cold.

As if he could read her mind, he turns around and twists the knob, shutting off the shower. She's glad she does because she knows they'll need the hot water to actually clean themselves off after this. They're already sweaty and gross and they haven't even fucked yet.

"God, lemme just-" He mutters nonsense to himself under his breath and carelessly swipes the soaps off the ledge near Veronica. "Hold onto this if you need." He tells her, and just like that she's excited again. She's still spent, and her clit is throbbing, but she's ready. She needs something and she needs it rough and heavy to forget about all the shit that went on today, and she knows J.D can easily give it to her, so she urges him to with a firm look.

She looks down between him and it's enough to make her squirm. He's hard, urgent and needy, precum beading at the head. She doesn't have much more time to pay attention to it because he's soon gripping her hips and moving her so her hands are against the shower wall and she can feel his erection against her ass.

Veronica doesn't even have time to wonder if she took her birth control before shit hit the fan because soon his hand is on the small of her back and she feels him positioning himself against her.

She bites her lip when J.D begins to push in, his fingers gripping her hips tightly. It's a weird feeling, and it only gets stranger the deeper he pushes in. She doesn't mind, though. It's a good feeling, a joining of two people. He's claiming her again with every movement he makes, taking over her body and making her crave things she hasn't ever thought about before. It's good. Hell, its beyond that. Although, she doesn't exactly feel anything pleasurable right now, it's still something to love. He's something to love.

He gives her a moment to adjust, and she takes the time to get a good grip on the ledge beside her. The wall is slippery, and she knows it won't do any good to hold her up if she were to start falling.

She gives him a silent invitation to move by pushing back on him. He tightens his hold on her hips one final time before pulling out, leaving Veronica feeling empty until he pushes in again. It's an almost violent thrust, but she doesn't mind, especially when it picks up.

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to get going, and then he's fucking her against the wall and she's holding on the ledge, panting and gasping like a whore. It's not something she's proud of, but she's unable to keep herself quiet when he's pressed against her back, moving inside of her frantically.

Suddenly, there's a hand in her hair and her head is being yanked back. J.D attempts to kiss her but barely brushes her lips so she awkwardly twists her body and kisses him fervently, allowing him to keep his harsh grip on her hair. She didn't mind if it was beginning to hurt. Pain was good. Pain was a distraction.

Veronica hungrily captures his mouth with her own, gasping against it when he gives a harder than usual thrust. She still has no idea what she's doing with kissing, but she's going off of pure instinct and responding to what J.D's been giving her. It's sloppy and half of the time they miss each other's mouths, but it's worth it. She knows the discomfort is all worth it as she hears him pant or curse against her mouth as they mold theirs together, undirected and desperate.

"God, Veronica. You're so-" He cuts himself off with another ragged breath. He's as close as he can be to her now while still being able to move. Her face is inches away from his, her tiny hands still desperately holding onto the things around her. It's such a pretty sight, and J.D makes sure to preserve the image in his head. "-fuckin' gorgeous. God, Veronica." He finishes his sentence breathlessly. He basically breathes it into her mouth with how close they are.

Veronica goes to respond but is cut off when he gives an especially hard thrust. She keens loudly from the back of her throat and peers at J.D through hooded, glazed eyes when he gives her another frantic thrust. She can tell his orgasm is approaching with how quickly he's moving with her, and while hers isn't just ready yet she's more than happy to help him get to his, pressing back against him and muttering praises.

It works, and it works well. He stays rough with her as he works his way to his release, and during the process he starts hers. Veronica has never tried orgasming on time with him before, and she try this time either, but it happens. He manages to go a bit longer she was at her breaking point and then he came, sending her into her orgasm.

The bathroom is quiet except for their panting and the whine that Veronica does against J.D's mouth. He fucks her through it, but eventually it ends, and they're left sticking together until he pulls out and Veronica's able to fix her position. She's no longer uncomfortably twisted, now in the comfort of his arms while he strokes her hair.

She feels happy. Genuinely happy, where she doesn't feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Maybe it's the orgasm that does it for her, or maybe it's just a moment of oblivion, but it's nice. It gives her a moment to truly breathe, and it's right after a time of intimacy.

J.D takes one hand away from her to awkwardly reach behind her and turn the shower back on. She's relieved to find that the hot water has returned when it begins to rain down on them again. She doesn't pay much attention to it, this time around. She doesn't pay attention to the way it irritates the wound on her head. She doesn't pay attention to anything except the way she can hear J.D's heartbeat as she presses her head against his chest and the feeling of his fingers in her hair feels.

It's a sweet moment in the middle of a shit storm. Sure, its partially sex driven, but it's much more than that, and she knows that when he places a gentle kiss to the top of her head and nuzzles his face into her hair, closing his eyes and relaxing against her.

It's enough to keep her calm for the night, even when he lifts his head and gives her his mischievous smile. It's enough to sedate her emotions. At least, the bad ones.

It takes her a second, but eventually Veronica gives him back a soft smile, standing on her toes and kissing him gently. She sighs quietly when his smile slips into a smirk, and with a roll of her eyes she reaches for the soap.