I cannot believe how quickly this chapter developed. I am grateful to Enygmass for editing! This chapter will have sexual content, so be aware and feel free to skip if that makes you uncomfortable. The next chapters will be likely complete during Spring Break and will be fast paced.
Meg began making herself less expendable by moving into his side. He froze under her touch but laced his fingers with hers.
Throughout the weeks, she pushed herself to touch him more directly. She hugged him from behind at breakfast. She let him pull her to stand between his legs and kiss the top of her head as he made coffee. Meg still flinched when she felt the press of his hips and usually jolted out from his grasp when his hands snapped at her hips. He usually laughed, but she always caught his hungry, angry look. Meg knew eventually she would need to give him those liberties if she wanted him to remain gentle.
She needed to protect herself. If Jervis threw another hot pan at her head, she needed Jonathan to do more than just step between them. She needed Jonathan to take her side, yet when Jonathan finally did take her side, all Meg could do was stare.
"Enough!" Jonathan stood abruptly from his seat. "I've had goddamn enough of your arguing." Jonathan grabbed Jervis's collar. "You are acting uncouth!" He snarled.
"I am uncouth? She kicked me under the table." Jervis' eyes widened and he pointed at Meg.
"I didn't even try to kick you. I just stretched out my leg and it touched your shoe." Meg braced herself on her seat. She barely touched his shoe and he had kicked her back really hard in the shin.
"Jervis, I have tried to remain neutral. You cannot keep acting out like this." Jonathan stepped closer to Jervis and allowed the madman to weigh their differences in height. "She let a girl you barely knew escape." He pulled on Jervis' collar and looked him in the eye. "She apologized," Crane leaned down to speak calmly nose to nose. "And you agreed that would be the end of it." Crane pushed Jervis away with too much force. "For god's sake, why are we still circling around to the very beginning?" Jonathan's voice rose to cover the fact he was losing control.
"Jonathan. You and I have known each other for a very long time." Jervis straightened his collar. "We have done business together and I have a great deal of respect for you." Jervis took his hat off and sucked in a deep breath. "But, we will never see eye to eye on this. I think this tea party is over." He lifted his hat and gestured to the exit. "It's time I find a clean cup and move out."
When Jervis left, Meg realized she did not need to keep touching Jonathan, but she did not stop. She needed someone. She needed to feel connected to something alive in the empty house, and he was the only thing left.
—
"You look stressed." Meg walked behind the couch and looked at his spine. He was curled inward with his head resting in his palms.
"I am." Jonathan lifted himself from his hunch and turned towards her.
"Maybe you need some comfort." She touched his shoulders. "You like being touched. It's pretty obvious you're starving for affection." She moved her hands into his chest. His grip on her hand was too tight and she whimpered when he bent her wrist backwards.
"Starving? Do you think I'm some kind of dog?" He bent her wrist farther back and felt satisfaction when her other hand curled weakly against his hand to push him away. "If you keep feeding me your scraps, how long do you think it will be until I bite?" He let her go and watched her cradle her wrist.
"Then I won't give you my scraps anymore." She stuck out her tongue and kissed his cheek.
Crane lunged for her. The wind fell out from her lungs and the blow left her gasping. She tried pushing him away only to have him rip her hands away and grind them down into the floor.
"Do not ever provoke me like this again." He was likely crushing her as he was using an unbridled force to keep her still. "Every second I have given you here has been an act of mercy. I have not clawed at your sanity nor have I torn apart your body. So do not toy with my emotions."
"I wasn't toying with you. I actually want you near me." She hissed and tried to pull away his fingers. "Don't you get it? You are the only one here. Do you really think I'd rather be alone?" She whined and tried to twist out from his grip.
"I see." He was slow to react but he understood. His gaze dropped low. His calloused desire was stunted and vicious. He wanted her acceptance and he craved to be her first choice rather than her only option. He lifted his body from hers. "How do you think I feel right now?"
"I wouldn't know. It isn't as if you wear your heart upon your sleeve." She backed away slowly and rubbed her wrists.
"No, I suppose I don't." He sat in his old fabric worn chair, settling against the stained cushions.
She cautiously rose from the floor, eying Crane for permission. He gestured briefly towards the couch and she hesitantly took her seat. "Why are you mad at me? I thought you wanted me to come to you for company."
"It is not the action. It is the intent. I have never pushed you for contact because deriving satisfaction through force is a hollow pursuit." He slumped further into his chair and flicked his fingers against his drink. He could have forced her. He could have made her do whatever he liked and exactly as he liked. However, he was not cruel, and he would hardly prefer insincerity.
"You didn't force me." She scooted across her seat to lean closer towards him.
"Nor would I bother to." He snorted and bared his teeth in a hungry grin.
"So, why did you attack me over a little human contact?" She flinched at his wild smile.
"Was I ever your first choice?" He hunched over his legs and rubbed his temples.
"Now you are." She shrugged and kicked her heels onto the sticky coffee table.
"Because I am your only choice." He raised a single eyebrow at her and shook his head.
"You would have been right a month ago. But not today." She swallowed knowing there was only one thing she could do to make Crane value her life. She stood and moved to grab his arms. She pulled at him and was surprised by his numb compliance. He followed her to the couch and sunk against the cushions next to her. She touched his thigh and moved to kiss him.
He let her touch him and basked in the warmth. The softness of her kiss encouraged him to cup her cheek and press forward.
In between the kisses, she straddled his hips and pushed his pants down his waist. He helped her remove the fabric. She saw his eyes narrow and felt his breath become unsteady.
Crane wanted her pitifully. He wanted to feel her skin against his and know she shared his affections. He had imagined her growing so bold as to touch him as a man. He would be damned if he told her to stop because he doubted her sincerity.
She stood and removed her clothes.
His eyes followed the smooth sliding fabric and he gestured for her to return. He was not keen on having her reconsider her approach.
When she rubbed herself against him he inhaled sharply. He watched her with dark eyes and she looked away from his intense stare.
Crane felt her body rub against him and he wanted more. He lifted her from his lap and pushed her gently onto her back. He took a moment to gather his discarded pants to find a foil packet in the back pocket of his jeans. He had started keeping the condoms on hand after an particular Tuesday when she kissed him square on the lips while seated between his legs. He had felt guilty and uncomfortable purchasing the package because they had never discussed that potential. He felt ridiculously presumptuous.
He paused to open the foil and slid the condom down his penis. It was an awkward but necessary precaution. He doubted either of them desired children in the near future.
She listened to the sounds of couch cushions rustling as he moved towards her. She kissed him and tried to be somewhere else.
He gripped her bottom and positioned her so his body could rest politely between her thighs. He hovered over her and tried to get comfortable.
"Jonathan?" She opened her eyes and smiled nervously at Crane. Did he realize why she was really offering this? Was he stopping because he was angry?
"Do you really want this?" He cursed his rational mind for letting his fearful words move past his babbling lips. He could not bear the thought of her not wanting him.
"I think so." She swallowed her pride and lied. It was just sex. He would be satisfied and she would be safe. Sex didn't need to feel special every time.
"If you don't want me like this I'll stop." He stroked her cheek with fingers which would prefer to be holding her breasts. "It's up to you." He realized in one long awful moment that he was in love. He would have never given her a choice to stop after engaging him so directly if he did not genuinely love her.
She decided not to risk telling him another lie and pulled at his hips. She hoped the action would be enough to end the conversation and was surprised his resolve was so weak. She pulled him inside easily enough and rolled her hips up to encourage his shy entrance. She closed her eyes and tried not to open them. She did not want to see Crane's lean hips pistoning into her from above. She did not want to be able to feel him moving inside her. She wanted more than anything to tell him to stop.
Crane closed his eyes only after he finished. He held her body close to his frantically beating heart. This was the first time he had experienced intimacy with a woman. His emotions were too intense and he could only muster the energy to pull her tightly against his chest to communicate. He loved her. He squeezed her to his chest. He was actually in love.
She opened her eyes and learned she hated the sound of his heart whooshing loud and fast against her ears. She did not know why sex with him had to feel so different. The booming sound of his heart reminded her that ultimately her time might run out anyways.
He let her take a shower without thinking to supervise.
She took advantage of the oversight by scrubbing her insides with soap and water. It was not enough to remove the memory of him, but it did help her feel cleaner.
He sat uncomfortably waiting for her to return. He fidgeted with his clothing which now felt sticky against his skin. He wanted to join her in the shower and reassure himself her desire was genuine. He wanted to reassert himself between her legs to reestablish his presence. Crane wanted to make it clear that she could not wash him away. He also knew better than to act on his distress. She would not welcome him again so soon after their first coupling.
The day passed with Jonathan trailing at her heels. He was attentive and far too fixated on her every move. She felt relieved when night finally came and he left her alone.
However, the respite was brief, because in the morning he rolled down her pajama bottoms around her ankles and kissed her with his fingers knuckle deep and squirming inside her. He clearly wanted to please her.
He wanted her to scream and plead like the women in the videos he watched. He could not interpret whether she enjoyed his methods but he knew he could learn.
After he finished, she rinsed him off in the shower and repeated their daily routine.
When she stepped into the kitchen he placed his hands under her shirt and palmed at her breasts until she pushed his hands away. The rejection burned. "Do you not like this?" He wanted her to enjoy his touch.
"No. It's not that. I'm just not in the mood Jonathan. I'm a little sore." She shifted her legs uncomfortably. The second time he was much rougher. It felt like he was probing her insides. His touch had been too rough and he had nearly rubbed her raw from the inside because she couldn't get wet enough for him. She should have told him to stop but she didn't want to fight.
He hummed and pulled her close to his front. He wanted her to have a choice, but he was too afraid. If he gave her the space she would run. She would flee if he relented. "I'll be gentle." He felt pathetic begging.
"Jonathan." Her tone was warning. She did not want him inside her again.
"Was I too rough? Before?" He kissed her neck gently trying to demonstrate that he could be softer. He needed to be back inside. He wanted to prove he could please her.
"Yes. It hurt." The words fell out of her lips and she felt his grip tighten.
"I hurt you?" His arousal wilted. "I would have stopped. Why didn't you say anything?" He held his shoulders aloft and his breath exited his nostrils in a single whoosh. This was new. He just needed more practice.
"I don't know." She tried not to tremble but her heart beat was thrumming wildly. He was so close and she knew her words were testing his restraints. But for some sick reason she wanted him to know she had not wanted him.
"If it ever hurts you need to tell me." He looked her in the eyes and rested his forehead against hers. He hoped blindly that her words were being misplaced, but he saw her terror and he panicked.
"Ok." She tried to hold his eye contact but caught his wounded look and flinched.
"I mean it. I was not aware it would hurt if I was rougher. I thought you would like it better. You didn't-" He was talking too fast and knew he was not making himself clear. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed to reconsider his phrasing. "You didn't seem to enjoy my softer approach the first time."
"I didn't want to enjoy it. I still don't." She kept her eyes downcast. He did not get to make her feel sorry for him. He was the entire reason her life was over.
He felt his heart burn and his eyes prick. "Why not?"
"You know why Jonathan." She looked into his blue eyes and let him see the small glint of resentment.
"You have no right to use my affection this way." He felt his hands clench in the fabric of her shirt. He imagined making her truly sore. He wanted to bruise her skin and make her understand him. She let him hurt her so she could continue to reject him. He was well and truly pissed.
"Does it matter? You're just going to hurt me anyways." She gave him an exhausted look.
"Fine. I will do it the better way." He pushed her to bend over his table and pushed the tops of her palms into the sticky surface.
"You're going to be sore, sugar." He pulled free a small packet of fear dust from his pants pocket and held it in front of her. "I know it's not much but it does the trick." She squirmed but he prevailed and emptied the packet onto the table. He pressed her face into the pile of dust and waited for her to breathe. She eventually inhaled and he felt every part of her tense. She needed to see that this type of game would be unpleasant for them both.
She began to buck and cry. She screamed in long loud wails. She tried to free herself from the writhing creeping black worms that were crawling into her body past her clothes. She felt the worms inside her burrowing into her skin. The worms were exiting out of her mouth in acidic coughs and down her legs in trickles of warmth.
Crane watched her vomit onto the table and pulled away from her body when he noticed the telling dark stain form on her pajama pants. He gave an annoyed sigh. He was going to need to redress her and get the bleach to clean the room. He watched her wail and cry and wondered if he should restrain her to control the situation.
He stopped himself from intervening because he promised that she would feel sore. There would be so many bruises from her flailing about trying to knock free the invisible intruders.
He reassured himself it was a harmless lesson and walked calmly into the kitchen. He hummed along with the wails and retrieved a can of cola from the fridge. He opened the can with a small click and sucked in a small taste. He looked at the screaming woman and grimaced. The vomit was in her hair and down the front of her shirt. He did not care to see her humiliation.
After the screams subsided and the effects of the toxin ended, he placed her freshly cleaned form in bed to rest. When he felt her stir he rolled over her body to look her over. The bruises had blossomed nicely on her arms and he felt proud. She would remember what punishment felt like when it came honestly from him. He still wanted her despite his disappointment in her behavior.
She stiffened in his arms against the clear press of his arousal. Her eyes were red and her head throbbed. She felt awash and weary, but reluctant to tell him no.
"Yes. I want you." He answered her silent question with a tender kiss. "I'll be gentle if you tell me how." He played with her breasts in hopes of relaxing her into his touch. "I can make it feel good this time." He wanted her to enjoy him but he could tell she was far too stiff. "I did not like hurting you today." He did not enjoy watching her roll around in her own bodily fluids nearly as much as he had in his previous victims. It was honestly a relief.
"Ok." She did not want to go back to the screams and tears. She preferred this misleading approach. She was too frozen to do more than press her palm into his chest. She wanted to vomit all over again.
"Stop." He pulled her hands away from his chest and pressed his lips to her hands with several stubbled kisses. "You said you were sore." He touched her bruises and frowned. "Are you sore here too?" He felt her nod and he felt the smallest degree of guilt. She pushed him and he shoved back. He needed the restraint to show her he was not going to hurt every time she gave him an unpleasant response.
"You can't keep hurting me just because you feel trapped." He pulled her to rest between his arms and legs. "If I am being too rough I would prefer to know." He looked at her in the dark with a stern expression and kissed her collar in a strong peck. "I don't have much experience with women." He made the admission with a twinge of irritation. She had to at least suspect he was without practice. "I won't know if I am making you feel good or if you don't like something I'm doing." He just wanted to feel happy. He wanted to stop hurting her, if only she allowed him the opportunity.
—
"Bruce?" Barbara bit into the chip which carried a hard crunching tone over the phone line.
"Barbra." Bruce was at a gala inspecting the guests and exits for something amiss.
"I need you to look at another address. I think I missed something at the one the Riddler gave to me." Barbara had gone to the address and followed the trail of breadcrumbs. The trail stopped at a dumpster near the Narrows. There was a question mark spray painted onto the flaking green side of the dumpster with no further clues. It was just a dead end in a dirty alley.
"It's on the delivery slip from the pizza he ordered me. It's been bugging me because he called in from a different location." She didn't notice the discrepancy until she went back into her receipts to find out where the pizza place was located. Despite his obnoxious qualities, the Riddler had very good tastes in food. She was going to place an order over the phone from the location when she noticed the address listed online did not match the one on the delivery slip.
"Send it over. I'll check it out." Bruce smiled slightly. He wanted any excuse to escape the formalities of playing the part of billionaire playboy. He wanted to do more with his money and time than exchange pleasantries and checks amongst the other socialites.
