Chapter Sixty-Seven: Movie Night
Thank you to SilverIce523 and SaruwatariAsuka for your reviews. You all keep me so young :p
It was close to nine o'clock at night when Sylvia turned off all the lights in the living room. Jack and Joel Kabuki had gone out to purchase a couple of two-liter cokes and pizza; while they did that, Gabe had returned with buffalo wings and a twenty-four pack of canned beers to split between him and the twins.
Gabe and the twins had apartments of their own, but since drinking was involved so late in the day, Sylvia recommended they stay at the mansion rather than drive home. Gabe, who was integral downstairs either way as a permanent bodyguard (especially since the Demetri debacle) was already comfortable with the idea.
Jack and Joel had expressed a minor hesitation at the idea, since the spare bedroom had normally been reserved for the Mayor's Chief-of-Staff. When they were informed that Ed wouldn't be coming home tonight, they exchanged confused and concerned expressions at their Mistress' nonchalance before they agreed to take her up on the offer of staying home and not catching a DUI.
Oswald wasn't due back until much later; his mayoral hat had been set aside around 5 PM, but for the past four hours, he'd been wearing the Penguin's hat. While the crew waited for his arrival, they were back at the mansion and getting things ready for the impromptu movie night.
During these following hours, Jack, Joel, and Gabe's true selves slowly became endeared to Sylvia's casual personality; it was just easier to become complacent around someone who didn't see herself as a 'gentleman of crime' as Penguin perceived himself to be. Not to mention, between their two bosses, Sylvia worried less about the boundaries between employer and employee, or just the general perception where professionalism resided.
Because of this, their own casual demeanor showed, especially in the way they presented themselves in dress and appearance.
Despite being identical in appearance, when it came to pajamas, Jack and Joel dressed differently.
Jack, who was more forward and feistier compared to his younger brother, wore a thin, white tank top, and thigh-high loose shorts, showing off impressive muscular definition all throughout his shoulders, arms, and legs. While Sylvia couldn't tan to save her life even if she baked for twelve hours in the sun, Jack had acquired an attractive light bronze complexion, particularly on his arms. He walked around the mansion, barefoot, as he finished lighting the fireplace.
Joel was more reserved; he wore a blue plaid, flannel shirt, and navy-blue sweats. It wasn't exactly the style that Sylvia was accustomed to seeing, but it fit his more easy-going, passive personality. He shuffled around the kitchen with Gabe, going through the four boxes of pizza on the counter, slicing them into equal parts; when the fire had been lit, Jack joined them in the kitchen to take out all the beer cans and place them in the refrigerator on the side door and bottom drawers.
Gabe was in his own element. Instead of his usual casual suits, he preferred sweats, more importantly, dark teal, with black slippers. While he and Jack laughed each other to death about how they wouldn't have been able to buy this much food with the paychecks they'd once made prior to working for Penguin, Joel strolled into the living room just as Sylvia stepped off the bottom rung of the stairs.
He suppressed an amused smile.
Sylvia was barely five feet tall, but she carried three sets of blankets and four pillows; altogether, the linens loomed over her as if she were a comedic cartoon character.
Once the column of comforters started teetering like the top of a Jenga tower, he stumbled forward, catching the toppling linens.
"Why did you bring so many?" Joel chortled.
"I want you all to be comfortable."
"We'd sit on the chairs."
"Just because the victims and murderers in the movies can't be comfortable, it doesn't mean we can't be," Sylvia corrected with a sly smile. "I know you two pretty well. Once you and your brother start watching a movie, you guys are glued to the screen. Besides, I will have a better view of your sweet little butts if you're lying on your stomachs."
Joel laughed aloud at her swift compliment, smirking at her playfulness as he helped Sylvia scatter the blankets and pillows on the ground except for a very large one and the last pillow being thrown onto the couch.
"What's the movie about?" Joel asked distractedly, checking the fireplace again; even though the flames had never burned brighter, he was still fussing over it, prodding the logs with a poker.
"Typical horror cliché."
He straightened, turning to her with a playful smile.
"And that is?"
"A couple go to some fancy resort that was allegedly haunted by some angry prick. Said couple see several red flags, but they willfully ignore all of them in favor of a gang bang with a weird, random girl who asks them to come to a cabin for an awesome adventure and she's obviously into drugs." Sylvia said listlessly, gesticulating dramatically. "Ghost gets horny, fucks them in their sleep, and it takes them about two hours of screen time to realize that they're getting possessed by said ghost, only to realize that the weird girl they encountered isn't real at all, but a figment of their imaginations. As the haunting in the movie steadily gets more intense, there's some blood and gore, some screaming."
"How does it end?"
"Well, if I told you that, there would be no reason to watch the movie."
"I don't know, Liv. The ghost-fuck might keep my attention."
"I'm sure it will."
"So, there's no fucked-up guy running around with a chainsaw?"
"Nope."
"Or burnt man with knives for fingers?"
"Nope, but there will be a girl running around in the middle of the woods wearing nothing but a pair of little skimpy panties, telling her boyfriend to knock it off and saying something along the lines of 'stop playing games, it's not funny anymore'."
"Sounds like a horror movie cliché."
"I told you. A typical B-movie with a co-star who has C-cup tits, and only wants the D."
"And you'll be staying up for the entire thing?"
"What makes you think I won't?"
"It's just that you've not really slept that much at night and you're up before the rest of us," Joel said apologetically. "A nap might do you good."
"I'm fine."
Joel snickered at her stubbornness as he turned on the television.
There was talk on the news, pertaining to Gotham city. When it mentioned Mario Falcone's son getting shot in the back on his wedding day by one Detective James Gordon, Sylvia turned to look at the news anchor while Joel glanced at her uneasily.
"What the…fuck…" She whispered.
She quickly moved to the couch, picking up her phone.
Joel raised an eyebrow: "Do you need to…?"
"Yeah, um…Just give me one sec. You all can go 'head and eat, I'll be just one moment."
"Sure thing, Boss."
Sylvia quickly stepped outside to the veranda, pulling the ends of her baby blue robe together, tying it off as she sat outside on a bench, holding her cell phone to her ear. Ironically, it went to voicemail.
"Jim, I just watched the news. They're saying you shot Mario Falcone: If that's true, you need to watch your back; it won't be long before Falcone sends Zsasz after you. Also, you know…call me back. I love you."
She hung up, then called Harvey Bullock. He answered on the third ring.
"Hey, Little Sister—"
"Fuck your greeting, Bullock. Is Jim with you."
"Yeah, yeah…Uh, hold on…" Harvey briefly seemed to put his hand over the mic since she heard his muffled voice speak to her brother: "Your sister's calling, partner; I think she saw the news…Well, you knew she was gonna find out some time…" His voice became clearer as he addressed her personally. "Liv, your brother's okay."
"He doesn't want to talk?"
"How'd you guess that one."
"Just tell him to watch his back," Sylvia warned. "If Falcone puts a hit on him, there's nothing anyone—not even me—who can stop Victor. He doesn't try, and he doesn't stop until the job is done."
"Sounds like you and Zsasz have talked about that before."
"Well, we used to do contracts together, so I think I have some insight into the mind of the most professional hitman alive so take my word for it."
"No kidding." Harvey muttered. A pause. "He won't come after you, will he?"
"I didn't kill Mario."
"Yeah, but that whole being-related-to-the-man-who-shot-my-son still doesn't really fly with Italians."
"Falcone likes me." Sylvia said offhandedly. "He's not going to punish me for something my brother did. That's not his MO."
"If you say so."
"I do say so. Since he's with you, tell Jim that I love him before I hang up. I know he's avoiding me."
"Because you'll scold him for—"
"—Killing Lee's husband, of course I will."
There was an aggressive exchange between Harvey and Jim before the latter's voice gruffly responded, "You don't understand, Vee, he had the virus!"
"Oh, not this again." Sylvia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He was tested three times and he came out of it negative!"
"He fooled the test."
"So, did he hurt her?"
"No."
"So why did you shoot him, Jim!" Sylvia snapped. "You're constantly putting your life in danger for no fucking reason, you know that!"
"He had a knife!"
"Did they find it!"
"No, he must've dropped it."
"Are you sure that's what happened?"
"Vee, I'm not some crazy psycho jealous ex," Jim growled. "He had a knife; he was going to hurt Lee! I had no choice!"
"You should've at least let him try."
"What!"
"I'm just saying," Sylvia sighed, looking up at the sky. "At least then, it wouldn't be a 'he said, she said' fucked up situation. You know you basically fucked yourself in the ass this time, right?"
"Fuck you, Vee—I protected her. That's all that matters."
"Oh, for fuck—you're a basket case. All that matters is that you fucking shot your ex-girlfriend's husband in front of her and now every fucking hitman that wants that contract is going to come for blood, strictly yours!"
"You don't understand. He was infected. The virus brought out the worst part of him—his jealousy. He'd have tried to kill her anyway—"
"Because she still loves you, I know, but goddamn it. Why is it when I turn my head you're always making a mess! It's constant chaos with you!"
"Why the hell are you yelling at me!"
"Because you killed Lee's husband! And there's no way you're going to get out of this fucking alive, Jim!" Sylvia shouted furiously. "You're always putting yourself in the cross hairs. Can't you just stop being the hero one time? Just once, so I don't have to worry about someone trying to kill you! Is that so fucking hard!"
There was a pause on Jim's end which likely included Jim and Harvey exchanging expressions where Harvey was listening on the other end. Sylvia lowered the phone from her ear, staring angrily at the barbecue grill as she tried to keep her eyes from watering, hoping her voice wouldn't reflect what she truly felt. She'd rather feel angry than afraid any day of the week.
Jim's voice was softer on the other end: "Vee, I'll be okay."
If she wasn't worried about Oswald, she had to worry about Jim. Would she ever find any type of peace?
"Vee…"
"Just please watch your back," Sylvia said quietly.
"I will."
"I've gotta go."
"Vee!"
"…What?"
"I love you."
"I love you too. I've gotta go."
She clicked the end button and lied down on the bench. The concrete would have felt chilly a few minutes ago, but now it cooled her flushed skin; the quaking sensation in the pit of her stomach as the nausea squeezed it with a vice-like grip.
She pressed her face against the frosty marble, closing her eyes and feeling the crisp breeze nip her bare legs. She only wore silky booty shorts and a spaghetti strapped shirt under her robe, but she felt her entire body heating up in the worst way possible.
Fear was a helpless feeling.
"Fear is the body's response to an uncomfortable situation, Vee."
Sylvia opened her eyes, startled. She hadn't heard that voice in years.
When she peered up at its owner, she saw that it was a man wearing a suit as he always had worn prior to his court cases; a shadow of a man whose life had long been taken during a fatal car accident; but even though she knew he wasn't alive, that didn't keep the suited apparition from being any less real as Peter Gordon stepped towards her.
He sat his briefcase on the ground, waving his hand over the bench so she lowered her feet to the floor.
Sylvia was a bit taken aback to notice that as he sat down, blood appeared on his face and his chest. Injuries from the car accident, perhaps. Despite the blood, his kind face smiled down at her as if it didn't exist; the graying hair of what had once been dirty blonde roots; cool bluish gray eyes that appeared stormy in Gotham's usual weather, and bright blue on the days when the sun shined.
"You're not real." She whispered. "You're dead. You died years ago."
"Always telling things like it is." Her father smiled.
She glanced at the mansion behind her, but she was, again, startled to see that instead of the Van Dahl mansion, it was replaced with her own childhood home. It was a two-story house, with a large blue front door, and their cow-shaped mailbox standing at the end of the street.
"Where's…" Sylvia began.
"I told you that if ever there came a time when you were ever afraid, you could always come home."
She glanced at him uncertainly.
He said softly, "And you are afraid. Aren't you, Vee?"
She nodded slowly.
When she admitted it, even nonverbal, Peter Gordon sighed and crossed his arms as he sat with her on the bench, his eyes slowly taking in the apparition of a rising sun. Even if it didn't exist, the sunrise felt good; the heat of the sun's rays providing a blanket of warmth that she'd not felt in years, even when he'd been alive.
"People go where they're most comfortable when they're scared." Peter said gently. "Some people go to a library."
She said knowingly, "Because they feel more comfortable with books rather than with people."
"Exactly. And some people go to bars…"
"Because they feel more comfortable with drowning their pain and disappointment rather than accepting who their daughter really is."
"Yes…"
He smiled at her, although there was a remorseful sadness in his eyes that reflected at her.
"You've grown so much since I last saw you," He uttered, touching her face with the palm of his hand, and placing a string of abandoned red hair behind her ear.
"It's been years. And you died." Sylvia said smartly, pushing his hand away.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, unaware that he was really doing it. She looked confusedly at him, and he said softly, "It has been years since I really saw you. I suppose…I suppose I never took the time to see you…the real you."
Sylvia hardened her expression at his hasty apology. Her father was dead, but this one seemed to recognize his past wrong doings in a heartbeat when the former existence of her late daddy dearest couldn't even look her in the eye and say those words with the slightest bit of remorse.
"Why are you here, Daddy?" Sylvia asked painfully.
"I don't know." He said mysteriously, brushing a hand through his hair.
"You don't know? You're the one who came to me first, you brought me here."
"I didn't bring you or us anywhere, Vee. You did."
"I was—"
"You fell asleep." Peter hushed gently, rubbing the small of her back with a gentle comfort. "You're dreaming."
"I was awake. I just laid my head down for a second—"
"And you've not been sleeping much; it caught up with you."
"I've dreamt of weirder shit when I've been tired and stressed." Sylvia said coolly, glancing him up and down. "Why the hell would I dream about you of all people."
"Like I said…People retreat to the places they're most comfortable when they're scared."
"You're the last person I'd have gone to. Even if you were alive."
Peter flinched at her icy tone, but he said understandably, "So why am I here now?"
"It's a dream. I have no control over any of this."
"Dreams are just your subconscious writing stories about what it wants you to know."
"That's bullshit."
Peter Gordon frowned: "I see your mother's absence hasn't done anything to fix that tongue of yours."
Sylvia chuckled, getting to her feet. She turned around to look at him.
"See. There's the dad I know. Always critical, picking on every little fucking detail about me. That's why I never came home when I was scared; there were better places to go, better people to talk to—you'd only reprimand me for leaving in the first place, and we'd go back to pretending everything was fine when it wasn't."
"You came home though. You always came home."
"Of course, I did."
"If you hated living with me so much, then why did—"
"Because of Jim, Dad!" Sylvia snapped, glaring at him. She crossed her arms when Peter stared at her, surprised. "You were a hypocrite—you always tried telling me to open my mind, and look for the better parts of people, but then you berated me for doing something as small as cheating on my test, or taking five dollars from a fucking register."
"That was a crime, Sylvia!"
"I was a kid!" She shouted, her voice cracking. "I was only fifteen! And instead of trying to understand me or even try to figure out why I was acting out, you threw me in Juvie for six months! While everyone else was having fun at summer break, I was getting my ass beat by arsonists and frat boys who didn't know the difference between 'yes' and 'no'!"
"I tried teaching you a lesson; I had your best interests at heart, I—"
"It was the worst time of my life!"
"Your mother—"
"Fuck Diana! Mom might've gotten into bad, fucked up shit, but you were by far the worst thing to ever happen to me! I hated coming home! I hated it! The only reason I ever did was because of Jim!"
Sylvia quickly rubbed her cheek, feeling fresh tears rolling down, stinging. Peter stood, pacing the veranda before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, contemplating a few things that had been brought to light. Sylvia sat on the bench grumpily, staring a hole into the ground.
"If you hate me so much, why are you dreaming about this house?" Peter asked, gesturing to her childhood home.
"How the fuck would I know. I didn't even know I fell asleep."
"Well, you're under a lot of stress—"
"How the hell would you know anything about what pressure I'm under?"
"Well, I'm in your dream, sweetie. The thing about being a figment of your dream is that I know a few things about your life and your psyche…including the thing you're trying desperately to ignore." Peter said softly, smiling when Sylvia glared at him indignantly. "Or the thing you're hoping I won't acknowledge as your father.
"This love of yours, for example." He sighed, sitting beside her. "Oswald Cobblepot. That's his name, right?"
"Don't."
"I'm just trying to get a feel for the guy."
Sylvia chuckled, "Well, let's cut to the chase. You wouldn't approve."
"I probably wouldn't. He's a criminal."
"Yes, he is."
"He manages other criminals."
"Yep."
"He's the embodiment of everything our family is against."
Sylvia crossed her arms defensively, saying, "Well, he's part of my family, so I don't think that really makes a difference anymore."
"I'd hope you'd end up with someone more honorable." Peter raised his eyebrows and exhaled deeply. "Someone like—"
"—Like you? Or Jim?"
"Something like that."
However, despite his clear disapproval, Peter smiled as he reached behind his back, and pulled out a picture frame; inside it was a photograph of Sylvia and Oswald at their own wedding. He placed the picture frame in between them on the bench, gesturing to it.
"He's not the type of man I'd have hoped you'd end up with, but…He loves you, doesn't he?"
"Yes." She nodded emphatically. "He loves me a great deal."
"He has a knack for criminal history, doesn't he?"
"He's an honest criminal, if that means anything to you."
"Well, I may not really know this Oswald of yours, but if he treats you a lot better than I ever did, I guess I can give him a little leeway."
Sylvia let out a breath of laughter, smiling at him through her tears. Peter wrapped an arm around her. The sun's natural warmth became more of a soft, feathery embrace as though the figment of her father was the actual sun itself; a glow of light filled her heart and Sylvia smiled when he held her against him tightly.
"Do you know why you came home?"
"No…I still don't…"
"You came home to be with your brother."
Sylvia glanced around their surroundings: "But he's not home."
"And his absence in this dream is the symbol of your fear. You're terrified of being alone."
"But I like being alone. People exhaust me."
"That's not the type of 'alone' that I meant."
"What is it, then?"
"You're a strong woman, capable of many great things. You're independent and self-reliant, and I've never been prouder of you. But that doesn't stop you from having weaknesses."
"Dad, stop."
He held up a hand. She silenced. That hand gestured behind her. When Sylvia turned, she saw an apparition of Jim and Oswald standing in front of her; they looked in her direction, but they didn't look at her. They especially seemed eerily calm with their sudden appearance.
"Fear is not only the body's response to an uncomfortable situation. It's a way of acknowledging that you are only human." Peter consoled. "There are only two people who truly see you for what and who you are. Or…Are there three?"
As he said the number, Edward Nygma appeared beside Oswald, who smiled at him lovingly.
"Daddy, I don't know what you want me to understand."
"Understand the thing you're trying not to acknowledge, that you are afraid of losing your brother, your husband, and your best friend. You're hiding your fear behind anger: berating your brother for shooting Mario Falcone, for example. It is easier to hide behind anger than to admit when you're afraid—it's the Gordon way, I understand."
"So, I'm afraid of losing the people I love. That's anybody's fear, isn't it! If any one of them died, I wouldn't know what to do."
"But that's not what you're afraid of."
Sylvia stared at him uncertainly, and she was feeling the familiar sensation. The same sensation that came when she knew Demetri had done the unforgivable.
"If you know what it is, tell me." Sylvia said sharply. "Earlier, you said you never saw me. You never understood me! How can you stand there and tell me what the hell I should be afraid of."
Peter snapped his fingers so only Oswald remained. And it was a strange sensation that came to pass over her. She saw him, but didn't recognize him…His raven hair, aquamarine eyes staring back at her, and the way he smiled—all of that was familiar, but she couldn't feel anything as he held her hand. That disconnection pulled at her heart, and Sylvia had the worst urge to cry.
"You're afraid of not being able to connect with him ever again," Peter stated. "You'd be robbed of all your memories, the success you've shared, the tragedies you've suffered together."
"Stop…" Sylvia pleaded, glancing at him.
"But we must dig a little deeper."
"No…"
"Because as I said before, I'm part of your dream world. I know better than yourself what you are truly afraid of."
"Please, don't."
"Your fear isn't losing your husband, your brother, or your best friend." Peter said softly, standing behind Sylvia, who glanced at him worriedly. "What Oswald offers is both a father's and a husband's love, a safety net, a friendship and a trust that neither me, Jim, nor Edward Nygma have been able to offer. Do you truly want to acknowledge your fear?"
"No."
"No?"
"No!" Sylvia heard herself argue back, but she wasn't aware of her lips moving, or the words leaving her mouth.
"Because," Peter whispered, "You know that once you acknowledge it, you're afraid that it might become a possibility."
In front of her, Oswald smiled at her sadly. It was a heart-wrenching expression that made the hairs on Sylvia's neck stand on end, a cold chill ran down her spine. Slowly, Oswald started fading away, becoming transparent.
"Wait, what's happening!" Sylvia whimpered.
Peter sighed, "You're acknowledging it, finally."
"No, I'm not!"
"Yes, you are."
When Oswald had disappeared, Sylvia turned to look at Peter, her face full of fury and betrayal.
"Then tell me what the fuck it is, dad!"
Peter sent her a stern gaze, but he held up a hand and pointed across the way. Sylvia turned to see what it was. When she did, she saw Oswald with someone else. It was another woman, although she was faceless and there were no defining features about her.
Peter placed his hands on Sylvia's shoulders and pulled her into him as fresh tears rolled down Sylvia's cheeks. Oswald was happier with this woman, it seemed, and it broke her. And a few more figures populated around him; Jim Gordon, smiling and laughing with Leslie Thompkins; Edward Nygma materialized and spoke congenially with Harvey Bullock. All the while, Sylvia felt as if she was an apparition herself and she looked down at her hands to see that now she was starting to disappear.
"Do you know what you're really afraid of now?" Peter asked somberly.
"I'm afraid of being forgotten."
"Close. You're afraid of being abandoned." He patted her back. "But being forgotten in a world of people you know is far worse than being alone, I suppose."
Sylvia frowned, glaring at him: "Why the fuck would you show me this! How can I benefit from knowing that the moment something happens to me, people will forget all about me?!"
A weird twisted smile appeared on her father's face, and she stepped back, startled.
"Abandonment issues are absolute hell, aren't they?"
"Liv, wake up!"
Sylvia threw her hands up, pushing away her father, opening her eyes only to see that she'd shoved Gabe away. Gabe stared at her uncertainly, stepping towards her again; his hands held out cautiously as if she was an injured animal.
She looked around, realizing she was awake, nearly hyperventilating.
Gabe quickly sat beside her, patting her back.
"Hey, it's okay!" He comforted.
After a few minutes had passed where she realized she was no longer asleep, Sylvia put her head against his shoulder. Her skin was cold, and she shivered. Gabe stood, and he encouraged her to come back to their small party.
"What happened?" She asked, walking inside the mansion. "How long was I gone?"
"Twenty minutes or so…But when you didn't come back inside, we got worried."
"Oh…"
"You look like you were having a crazy dream. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am. Thanks for waking me up."
"Looked like it was a doozy."
"It was. So, thanks again."
"Do you want to start the movie?"
"Sure."
Sylvia smiled when he offered her a beer, but she declined. She didn't drink beer. Instead, she poured herself a glass of Diet Coke and strolled into the living room, smiling when she saw Jack and Joel sitting on the floor on top of the comforters, grinning broadly at her. They were eating pizza, wings, and drinking beer.
They were halfway into the beginning credits, when the front door opened. Gabe grabbed his gun that he'd stuffed inside the armchair while the twins leaned forward to gather their samurai swords that had been stacked in front of them; meanwhile, Sylvia craned her head over the back of the couch to see Oswald storm inside, only to be stopped abruptly by their odd movie exhibition.
"Hey, Boss!" Gabe and the twins greeted.
Sylvia waved, "Hi, sweetheart."
"Hi." He looked at the blankets, food preparation, and the movie, which had been paused at his interruption. "What the hell is this?"
Gabe quickly stood to explain, but Sylvia waved him away.
"Movie night," She said simply. She wiggled her feet under the covers indicatively. "Wanna join, Love?"
"I'll pass." Oswald said briskly, rolling his eyes. He grumpily moved upstairs.
The twins glanced at each other uneasily while Gabe looked pressured to explain himself. Sylvia sighed, getting off the couch.
"Don't start the movie yet." She warned, pointing at all three of them.
"Sure thing," Gabe promised.
She quickly left upstairs. When she did, Jack leaned forward and whispered, "If we remember where we stopped, we can just go 'head and watch it and when they start to come back, we can go back to the place we left off."
"That's dishonest." Joel chastised.
"Yeah, but I saw the back of the DVD, and the ghost demon incubus chick is fucking hot."
Gabe stood and grabbed the remote from Jack, who looked severely oppressed by his actions. Gabe waved the remote, saying, "We ain't going to watch the movie until she comes back."
"Kiss ass." Jack grumbled.
Oswald Cobblepot had too many things to worry about and the movie night barely broke Top 50 on that list. What he wanted was for things with Ed to go back to normal.
"Can't we go back to the way things were? You're my best friend, I don't want to lose you."
Ed had quickly hugged him and whispered sincerely, "You're my best friend too, Oswald. Remember that." And with an abrupt departure, he had gone.
The last time he saw Ed hadn't really left Oswald with a comfortable feeling. Every time he thought of their last communication, it made him nauseous with regret as he fretted over every detail.
The way Ed looked when he appeared, how his dark eyes were cast with a shadow of doubt and just general sadness. Was it because of Isabella's death that those dark amber eyes stayed so solemn, or was it because he knew things wouldn't return to normal after his love declaration had been brought out into the open? Oswald chewed the inside of his cheek nervously as he shampooed his hair in the tub; there was plenty he wanted to say, but he doubted Ed wanted to hear any of it.
What could he do? What could he say? Should he not have said anything?
He'd chosen bravery over cowardice. That should've been worth something. But so far, all Oswald felt was a nagging chastisement of nonsensical regret—perhaps he'd been wrong to bring his love for Ed into the light. Perhaps it should've remained a secret shared only between himself and Sylvia.
Sylvia.
A part of him wished she hadn't encouraged him to tell Ed his true feelings. None of this would've happened if he hadn't said anything; things would just have been normal, and they would have stayed friends.
But weren't they still friends?
"If you stay in that tub any longer, you'll turn into a raisin."
Oswald jumped, looking up from the bath water to the door where Sylvia seemed to have been standing for a little longer than he might've preferred. She closed the door with a gentle click, smiling kindly at him.
"Why are you here?"
Sylvia shrugged: "I wanted to give the 'peeping Tom' thing a try, but I guess getting caught isn't part of it. I must be bad at this."
Oswald sniffed at her poor attempt at humor, glaring at the water faucet and the bubbles that circled around it. She sat on the side of the tub, peering down at him.
"Did you talk to Ed?" She asked softly.
"I did. And guess what."
"What...?"
Oswald met her eyes, and he frowned: "You've talked to him already, haven't you?"
"I have."
"So why are you leading me to tell you what you already know?"
"I was hoping it might give you a chance to tell me what you're feeling, get a few things off your chest, at least."
"You can't sense it from my tone?"
"I'm sensing a lot from your tone: sarcasm, spite, resentment, although I feel like most of that is being aimed at me." Sylvia said patiently, crossing her arms loosely over her stomach. She shrugged, adding, "But you're right: Ed did talk to me today, at my club."
"Well, then, there's nothing to tell."
"Darling, just because he doesn't feel the same way right now doesn't mean he won't later."
"I don't think that's how it works."
Sylvia brushed a hand through her hair; the ginger mane of hers had grown a lot in the past couple of months, mid-shoulder length. And while she didn't wear any makeup currently, there was a certain youthful glow about her; her eyes bluer than usual; and the color of her baby blue robe and matching shorts and top brought out that stormy gray in them. Oswald briefly observed her, wondering if she was taking vitamin supplements and if her hair had grown due to this or if she wore extensions.
Earlier, he was feeling resentful towards her for having placed this obstacle of emotion in his path, but if anything, he was more than grateful to have her by his side and withstand his snippy responses. She understood that he wasn't feeling his best.
Seeing her sit on the side of the tub, and her body twisted at an angle where her shirt tightened against the curves of her hips, the unintentional dip of her shirt was low enough that Oswald could make out the outline of her breasts.
She caught him noticing.
"What are you looking at?" She asked knowingly; an impish grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Nothing."
"Hmm. Anyway, I know you're a little grumpy, and I understand why. But…Your peeps downstairs are waiting for us to come down there and watch a movie. They've been dying to see it, so perhaps we should head down there soon, otherwise they'll start it without us."
Oswald raised an eyebrow at her: "What do you mean they're waiting for 'us'? I didn't say I was going to watch a movie."
"No, but I think it'd be good for you."
"What, another distraction?"
Sylvia sighed, "You're telling me you're feeling like shit and you don't want to feel better?"
"That's not what I'm saying. But why would a movie change the way I feel."
"Because it's a horror movie."
"And?"
"And people who are less lucky are going to be torture fucked by a random ghost who feeds on sexual frustration and humans' suffering and I feel like that's something you might really want to watch with me right now."
Oswald cracked a grin: "That is, by far, the most interesting pass you've ever made at me since we've been together."
She beamed at his approval.
"Fine." He moved forward, getting out of the tub. "Could you hand me a towel?"
"Sure thing, hun."
She stepped a few paces to the wall, grabbed the towel off the rack, handing it to him. He balanced himself against the sink, drying his body; all the while, she watched him with a small flicker of mischief.
"What are you looking at?" Oswald teased, grinning at her.
"Oh, you know. 'Nothing'," She drawled, winking at him, before she left the room and headed downstairs.
Once Oswald and Sylvia had come down to the living room, Jack and Joel alike offered him pizza, wings, and beer (he took two out of the three since he didn't care for the last). Sylvia left briefly to the kitchen and came back, handing him a regular coca cola. He kissed her cheek thankfully while she sat back against the couch, tucking her feet underneath her.
Gabe started the movie from the beginning (even the credits). Things were going so smoothly until she felt her phone vibrating against the cushions. Letting out a detestable growl inside her throat, she politely excused herself, moving to the kitchen.
"Hey." Jim said softly on the other side.
Sylvia smiled in spite of herself; her dream-turned-nightmare brought about a small reprieve.
"Hey. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I'm just at my apartment."
"Oh…that's good. So, why are you calling?"
"Look." Jim began uncomfortably. "Look, I don't expect you to understand why I did what I did—"
"—You really think Mario was infected?"
"I don't think. I know. The way he was acting, everything was exacerbated by the virus. The jealousy he already felt was there but once he was infected, it became incomprehensible."
"Jim."
"Yeah?"
"Mario loved Lee."
"Yeah."
"He wouldn't have hurt her."
"You don't know what this virus can do to people. It brings out the darkest part of them, the part that is weakest. Like Barnes and his passion for justice; Mario, and his jealousy towards Lee because of her feelings for me, and—"
"It brings out their weaknesses?" Sylvia interrupted him, startled. "Like, in what way?"
"The part of you that you have no control over, basically. Vee, are you okay? You sound a little anxious."
"Oh yeah!" She laughed nervously, sitting down in the dark kitchen. She bit her lip, mumbling, "Actually, no. Um…This virus sounds really bad, you know. Barnes was a pretty good guy; he was a prick at times, but he was good for the most part. And Mario wasn't a picnic, but as much as he was around Lee, I couldn't imagine that he would try to hurt her."
"So, what's your point?"
"What if you get infected?"
"I won't."
"Barnes didn't know he was infected until a lot later, you said. How do you know if you are? How do I know if I am. And, even if that happens, how could I tell if you or I were infected? How do either of us know what our weaknesses are or the parts of us we have no control over, or what—"
"Vee."
"Huh?"
Jim was silent for a second, as if he was trying to understand why he suddenly heard his sister's voice shake on the phone, why he could sense that something was terribly wrong.
"Are you really okay?"
"Yeah."
"Vee, I can hear it in your voice."
Sylvia glanced up in the direction of the living room; soon, one of the gentlemen would be coming in to see if she was alright if she stayed away too much longer. And as often as she confided in Oswald, this felt like a conversation she only could and should have with her brother. She licked her lips anxiously.
"Jimmy…"
"Yeah?"
"When you were dosed with that Red Queen shit after Tetch attacked you, you said you had a vivid hallucination. You said you saw and talked to Dad."
"Yeah, it was a trip."
"Well, I feel like I had the same thing happen to me."
Instant panic struck a tune in her brother's voice as he said worriedly, "The Red Queen?"
"No! No, no…I mean, I just had a dream and you were in it, but it was mostly Dad."
"Oh...?"
"I mean, I mostly yelled at him, and told him that I only came home because of you, not because of him, and I yelled about what happened when he found out I took money from the register."
"Oh," Jim winced. "Yeah, when he put you in Juvie for six months."
"Yeah."
"And how did that go?"
"He tried gaslighting me, saying that he was doing it for the best. Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I just wanted you to know that I was only angry earlier because I care about you and when you put yourself in danger, I want to help you, but I don't know how, you know? And it's…terrifying to me when I can't."
"I know."
"Jim."
"Yeah?"
"I'm afraid that I will lose you, or that I will lose Oswald, and I don't think I am strong enough to be alone if either of you left me," Sylvia whispered, the pain in her chest from her dream slowly came to tug on her throat; a small warning that she was about to cry again. "God, I sound pathetic. I just want to go back to when things were simpler, you know? Does that make sense or am I fucking crazy?"
"No, it makes sense. But it really brings things to light."
"Like?"
"When you get pissed, you're really just scared or sad."
"Well, when I get pissed, I'm normally 'pissed', but I get what you're trying to say."
"Also, I think we both know what that virus might bring to light, if either of us did get infected."
"Yeah," Sylvia nodded. "The inner killer in you."
"And your overprotective-turned-psychopathic urge to protect the people closest to you," Jim uttered. "Not to mention your weird eager need to make Penguin happy any chance you get, which honestly, would probably be the most annoying part about you if you were infected."
"That's big talk coming from someone who really just wants to go around murdering people," Sylvia said with a small smile, sensing his tease.
"Well, this was a nice talk. I think that about completes the circle, don't you think?"
"Yeah. Um…Do you—er—Never mind, it's a stupid question."
"No, what is it?"
"Do you ever, you know…Do you ever miss Dad?" Sylvia asked quietly.
"You know I do. Do you?"
"Not really. But I did for a little bit, when I saw him in my dream."
"What changed things for you?"
"When he called me 'Vee'."
"Why do you think I call you 'Vee'? It's the only part of Dad you don't mind keeping around."
"Shut up, Jim."
He genuinely laughed on the other line. Sylvia smiled and said, "Be careful, okay? If you need anything, let me know. I don't have much pull when it comes to Falcone and his contracts with Victor, but if there's anything you need, call me. Okay?"
"Sure thing. I love you."
"I love you too. Talk to you later."
She hung up and smiled at the phone. Sometimes, it took a gut-wrenching nightmare to pull their family together. What else would it ever come to?
Sylvia returned to the living room, just as the first act of the movie was finishing. Oswald was snuggled on the couch under the blanket, wearing his usual matching black top and bottom pajamas. Feeling her presence, he glanced up and she decidedly joined him, squeezing between him and the back of the couch.
Gabe was on his fourth beer, snickering at any time when the demonic ghost would move a door, scratch the walls, and the dense couple would terrifyingly whimper around for the remainder of the night before falling to sleep. This would go on for several more acts to 'gather suspense' but it was a snicker fest between Gabe and the Kabuki Twins, who were on their third beers; they still ate wings just to eat wings, and to occupy their hands, pretending they weren't getting spooked by the ghostly hauntings.
Oswald's body was warmest compared to hers. She cuddled closer to him.
Being this close to him was tempting not to try something, especially while the other boys were distracted by the movie and they were hidden in the darkness and cover of the blanket. Sylvia nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip, tracing the outline of Oswald's back with her hand in soft strokes; her hand slid under his shirt, her fingertips grazing over his bare chest and then down his stomach.
"If the woman knew better, she'd just fuck the ghost and be on her way," Jack said warily. "I mean, that's all the demon wants, right?"
"The demon wants to fuck, but he also wants to possess them." Joel remarked pointedly. "In order to do that, he must break one of them down, get them vulnerable, and then when he does, he can move in. It's like…It's like buying a house and until you negotiate with the realtor, you're really only window-shopping."
Gabe chuckled, "That's a good way of putting it."
"Well, two ghost busters, here. Ha-ha." Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "If ya'll are so smart, why don't you just remake the movie."
"We're not talking down the movie," his brother said defensively. "If the ghost got what he wanted, the movie would end in five minutes."
"Just saying."
"Just watch the damn thing, dude."
"Fine, fine. But I was just saying."
There was a grumble between the brothers before they rolled their eyes at each other and continued watching the movie in silence. Meanwhile, Sylvia's hand softly massaged Oswald's hip closest to her, placing her chin on his neck as she lightly suckled on his earlobe. With her other hand, she laced her fingers through his feather-soft hair, smiling inwardly when she heard a soft sound of contentment escape him.
He appeared to be content, at least. His eyes remained on the television, but there was the slightest mischievous tug on his mouth where he was all too spun up on Sylvia's tricks. He lifted the covers to their shoulders; once he did that, he took her hand that had been rubbing his hip and moved it down where a semi-erection had tented in his pants.
She shied away from his direct approach; her face flushed, burning. Honestly, with the way Oswald had been feeling earlier, she didn't think he'd be taking the control from her so quickly.
The twins and Gabe spoke aloud about the events that had taken place in the movie so far, but their words fell on deaf ears.
Sylvia grinned when she felt Oswald's hand slowly move hers over his hard-on. The way he persuaded her even without telling her to, the command all but spoken. Doing as he asked, she wrapped her fingers around his clothed cock, stroking him.
From this angle, he could imagine it was himself doing it, feeling her grip on him, the way her hips pressed against his almost as if by instinct. Oswald could imagine her fucking him on this couch; forget the fact that the minions were watching a movie within a few feet of them.
As tempting as it was, they needed to be a little more than discreet.
Her hand slipped inside his pants, stroking and rubbing his cock. His eyes closed as his head leaned back against her shoulder.
Then, there was a knock on the door.
Oswald hissed, "Fuck."
"Shh-shh…" Sylvia cooed, quickly licking his jaw.
"Who's at the door!" Gabe grumbled, stumbling to his feet. He caught the chair but he completely fell over.
"Well, if it's a threat, I doubt either of you could neutralize it." Sylvia drawled, smirking when the twins got up to show their worth, but they were on their sixth beer by the time the movie had presented itself in the fifth act.
"Stay here." She uttered, smirking when Oswald sent her a pointed glare.
There was no way he was going to get up and reveal to their subordinates what she'd been accomplishing under the guise of their cuddling.
When she came to the door, she opened it, smiling a little when it was Edward Nygma.
"Hey." She greeted.
"Hey. I just came here for a few of my things."
"Where are you staying?" She asked.
"A hotel."
"Alone?"
Ed said slowly, "Obviously."
"Ooh, sorry. Didn't realize you were being touchy tonight. Do you want to come in or are you going to camp out here?"
"I was hoping you could get them for me."
Sylvia tilted her head and sent him a sobering expression to which Ed said defensively, "I just don't want things to be awkward right now. If I go in there, he'll want to talk to me."
"Of course, he'll want to."
"Just would you?" He gesticulated towards her.
"Fine. Wait here, then."
Sylvia kept the door slightly ajar. Oswald looked at her curiously; she bypassed the couch in favor of the upstairs bedrooms. She was only gone for a few minutes before she returned with a small suitcase and she stepped outside of the mansion, closing the front door in the process so the other gentlemen wouldn't hear or see who she was talking to.
"Thank you," Ed said stoically.
Sylvia crossed her arms, bracing herself against the cold wind that crept past her.
"So, you're just going to avoid Oswald while you get over what exactly?"
"I don't feel the same way towards him, Liv."
"So, tell him that. Don't be this type of person. It took a lot of guts for him to come out and say it. At least just tell him you want to be friends."
"It's not that at all. And I'm not being any type of person."
Sylvia sent him the same expression and Ed frowned. He stepped forward and she looked up at him with a small challenging smile.
"Who's going to be the Chief-of-Staff while you take your mini vacay?"
"Tarquin Stemmel will be acting in my stead."
Sylvia raised an eyebrow: "That little press bloodhound?"
"He's a formidable substitute."
"He's a reverse puffer fish who swells whenever he can put himself in front of any reporter who isn't already sucking his dick."
Ed involuntarily snorted as he said, "I didn't realize you despised him so much."
"Why do you think I chose to act in your stead when you were grieving over Isabella? I'd rather split myself in half than allow the media to pander to his antiquated sense of sycophancy."
"Amusing, Liv."
"I'd rather cut off my head and use it as an ornamental piece for a Christmas tree than use Tarquin as your successor."
"Again: amusing."
"I'd rather drill a hole into my hand and use it as a petri dish than talk to him."
"Liv, stop."
"I wish you'd stay and listen to other things I'd rather do than have to consult that piece of crap than leave tonight. Are you sure you can't just talk to Oswald? Like a grown-ass man."
"It's easier said than done."
"Is it?" Sylvia questioned. "You're a logical man, Ed. This…This is childish."
"If you knew what I felt, you wouldn't be so quick to judge."
"I'm just saying…"
"I hear you." Ed reassured. He held out a hand and she took it curiously as he shook it. "I just have a few things to sort out and then I'll be back."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Just great." He said with a smile. "I'll be seeing you."
"Likewise, I guess. Stay warm." She waved as he walked away and got into his car.
When she came back inside, the movie had been paused for her benefit. Sylvia moved to join Oswald on the couch; he scooted back against the couch and permitted her to slide under the covers in front of him. Once the movie started, the twins were back to staring at the screen; meanwhile, Gabe was asleep in an armchair.
Sylvia flinched a little when Oswald's warm hand rubbed up her thigh, stroking in soft concentric circles. In the time she'd gone to talk to Ed, his hard-on hadn't gone away; the evidence was nudging between the back of her thighs.
His lips pressed against her ear as he whispered, "Do you feel that?"
"Yeah…"
She pulled the covers back to her shoulders: one, to cover them completely; two, to warm herself up from being in the cold too long.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling a little. She tilted her head, so his lips followed the outline of her jaw; she moved closer to him, smiling when he met her mouth with his, kissing gently and slowly; he groaned inwardly when she sucked on his tongue; it prompted his other hand to move from her hip and over her tank top, circling his fingers over her clothed nipple.
He cupped a breast under her slip, squeezing.
"So soft." He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, then her neck. "Now…Let's see how you like it."
Sylvia opened her mouth to respond, but she eagerly quelled it when his hand moved down her chest and stomach, and skimmed over her satin booty shorts, particularly between her legs to feel her heat. His middle and ring finger gently rubbed over her clit, teasing her slit as he slid his fingers over the material of her shorts.
She bit her lip, hoping to silence the moans that threatened to escape.
"Not a sound," Oswald breathed; he lightly sucked on her earlobe as she'd done to him, smirking when she let out a haggard, shaky sigh.
Jack said happily, "Oh shit!"
Sylvia opened her eyes, startled that she'd even closed them and noticed that the demon had started causing mayhem in the movie, particularly the more intense plot points had started to arise. Jack and Joel were rooting for the villain—what was new?
Oswald reached down between them, and shuffled his pants down, smirking when she gasped, feeling his naked cock against her. He rubbed his cock between her legs, swirling his hips so his hard-on slipped in and out between her clothed thighs.
Was he really going to do this? Her mind panicked just for a second, only to silence in that moment he reached down and pulled down her shorts; Oswald grinned in satisfaction when she shifted under the blanket, making it look like she was doing just that rather than sliding them down her legs, and off one of her ankles.
When she laid back down, he pulled her closer to him. He took her leg and moved it behind his waist, smirking when she gritted her teeth as she felt his cock rub against the lips of her naked sex; his cockhead teased her swollen clit.
"You were asking for this, weren't you?" Oswald murmured against her neck. "This is what you wanted."
Her response was barely over a whisper as she nodded her head encouragingly.
"Do you feel how hard I am for you?"
"Yeah…"
"You know exactly what to do in order to get me in the mood, don't you? Do you know what that makes you?"
Sylvia groaned when his hand lightly cupped her sex, his fingers rubbing her clit slow enough that she wouldn't lose control.
"That makes you a manipulative little slut."
She was barely audible when he dipped them inside her wet cunt to feel how ready she was.
"But you're my little slut, aren't you?"
Her mouth opened in a preemptive loud moan as he slipped his fingers in and out of her. Oswald used his other hand to cover her mouth, smirking when she licked his palm in grateful thanks. While she didn't care to break the employer-employee civilities, she would prefer not to have Gabe, or the twins see her in such an isolated predicament.
Oswald glanced up at the twins who were completely absorbed in the movie, then down at Sylvia, whose eyes could barely stay open.
"Do you feel my fingers inside you, Pet?"
"Mm-hmm..mm…mm"
"Yes, I know you do. But there's something else of mine I'd like to slip inside."
Sylvia pushed her bare ass against his hard shaft, her hot sex rubbing against his hand while he finger-fucked her. There really was no way for her to escape on either side, and she raised one hand to his shoulder, holding onto him, bearing her fingernails through the cloth of his shirt.
"Do you want it, Pigeon?"
"Mm-hmm!" She nodded her head almost aggressively.
"Do you?"
"Mm!"
"Put it inside, then. Take what belongs to you."
She reached behind her with her free hand, taking the tip of his cock and placed it at the slit of her sex before she pushed her ass against him. A soft groan slipped out of his mouth as Oswald felt her velvet silk engulf his member completely, the way she always did when she was so ready for a hard fuck.
He tilted his head to her ear again and moaned softly enough where only she could hear him, and it sent her reeling. Oswald smiled when he saw some panic flicker in her eyes as he first pumped quickly inside of her. She was nearly panting, and he hadn't buried himself inside fully just yet.
"Calm down, honey." He coaxed. "If you don't, the twins are going to catch on."
She whispered her plea: "Just go slow…please, I can't…"
Silently, he encouraged her to lie on her back, and she wrapped her legs around him, smiling in relief when he slowly thrust his cock inside, burying himself down to the hilt, covering her mouth with his to hopefully muffle any involuntary sounds that came out of either of them when the sensation was oh too good.
Sylvia winced in painful pleasure when Oswald dipped his head down under the covers to her breasts. He tugged her thin shirt down so he could lock his mouth over one nipple, sucking; his tongue flicking over it. He watched the muscles of her neck and jaw torque as she exercised the utmost effort not to moan to her heart's content. Although he did find her mouthing the word 'fuck' repeatedly as if this somehow substituted the need to say it like a prayer as he repeated the same actions to the other breast.
His pace stayed slow, although he did thrust deeper when he pushed inside of her. The last harrowing plunge made her involuntarily moan and Sylvia tried to make a 'normal' face when Jack and Joel glanced behind them. At that point, Oswald stilled as he heard Sylvia say playfully, "What? It was the movie, not me."
The twins glanced at each other before they returned their attention to the movie again. Luckily, there was only ten minutes left, but Sylvia wasn't sure she'd last that long. Already, she could feel Oswald getting impatient with these slow, gentle maneuvers and her orgasm was on the brink of releasing itself tenfold.
Oswald lined his body along hers, sliding his hands down her shoulders and back, grabbing her ass in a hard squeeze. Sylvia quelled a whimper that nearly escaped, and she bit her lip hard when he feverishly rubbed his hands up her stomach to her chest, grabbing her tits as he sprinkled her neck and shoulders in wet kisses.
"Ozzie," She whispered, "Mmm! I think you're the one who needs to calm down."
He groaned, "I just want the others to get out so I can fuck you properly."
As if luck would have it, the movie was starting to roll credits. Quietly, she chastised him to look less frustrated and he quickly moved to her side as she did the same, so it appeared like they were cuddling the entire time. In the meantime, Oswald lifted her leg a little and slid himself inside of her cunt, moving in and out just enough to satisfy himself for the moment but not so avid in movement that he drew attention to them. As if he was just situating himself (although in more ways than one). While he did, he lazily teased one of Sylvia's nipples between his fingers.
"That was a damn good movie!" Jack congratulated, standing and stretching. "Who knew that ghost was that weird random girl all along!"
"I could've called it," Joel said pointedly. "She was basically the bait bringing the food back to the cave full of bears if that bear was a fucking incubus."
"Good enough movie, I guess. What'd you think, Liv?"
Sylvia held up a thumb and said amusedly, "Good movie."
"Can't say the same for Gabe," said Jack disappointedly, glancing at the man snoring in the armchair. "I guess he drank too hard in the beginning. It was a slow burn, you know."
"A slow burn?" said Joel incredulously. "That bitch was dragging tail for at least the first half of the movie."
"Gotta get some filler plot to get the characters where they gotta be for the scene."
"Still, doing nothing for forty-five minutes is unacceptable."
"I'm beat though. I might just go and whack off."
"Ugh! We're gonna be in the same room, dipshit!" Joel said disgustedly.
"And that was different when we were kids, because…?"
The twins gave each other quizzical looks before they laughed out loud. For a second they pondered what to do with Gabe before deciding to pick him up and move him to his bed in the other room.
"See ya later, Liv!" The twins said in unison, waving at her.
"Good night, boys."
"'Night, Mr. Penguin!"
"Good night!" Oswald returned, glaring at Sylvia, who smirked at his unusual polite disposition.
When their doors had all closed, he threw the blanket off with a low growl, and pulled Sylvia to her feet by her hair; she grunted when he did but grinned wildly through the pain.
"Bend over." He said breathlessly.
She moved to the arm of the couch, doing as he commanded, bending over it at first until Oswald came up behind and pulled her back, positioning her in the way he wanted. He pulled his pajama pants down and they dropped to his ankles. Oswald stroked his cock eagerly, placing the head of it against her wet cunt.
Her clit rubbed against the rough texture of the couch, made sensitive by the hour long of teasing and she hissed inwardly when he wrapped his hand around her throat; the other hand kneaded her breast, if anything just to hold her in place.
"Feel free to scream my name," Oswald said as he nipped her shoulder. "I know how hard it is for you to resist."
His cock shoved inside her pussy, hard enough she was past the point of desperate whimpers and needy moans. Her knees nearly gave out; as if he'd known she would respond this way, the arm of the couch was there to catch most of her weight. She leaned forward, gripping the back of the couch as he fucked her hard, rough enough that she was reduced to inaudible screams and unintelligent words.
His loud groans and heady grunts brought about her climax in such a way that she was panting, just trying to take in as much oxygen as she could to comfortably breathe again. Oswald felt instant elation, watching her body writhe against him. Her slick sex clenching tightly onto him, her contractual pulse pounding against and around the length of his cock; it drove a pleasurable fire inside his belly, and he came inside her, groaning when he did.
Just as he did, he watched her body slink forward.
"Ooh…like…jelly…like jelly…" Sylvia panted with a breathless giggle.
She lied down on the couch, turning onto her stomach.
"What?"
"My body feels like jelly."
Oswald grinned tiredly at her praise and he sat beside her, running a hand through his hair; his entire body was sweaty, and his pajamas stuck to his skin in an unpleasant way, not that he was complaining. The result was worth the aftermath.
Sylvia looked up at him; her entire affect gave him the feeling like he'd fuck her all over again. She was gazing at him in the way he always wanted her to, like she'd do anything for him and there would be no one to stand in her way if it came down to choosing him or someone else.
And for a fact, he always knew that Sylvia would choose him.
She rolled a little towards the end of the couch, curling herself around him as he sat on the edge. She kissed his hip affectionately.
"Honestly, I haven't been watching that movie. So, if you wanna do this again, we can." Sylvia uttered mischievously.
Oswald rolled his eyes playfully as they both stood up, fixing themselves.
She let out a squeak of surprise when he smacked her butt before he walked into the kitchen for a proper drink (other than soda or beer). A blush quickly worked its way to her face and neck.
She never realized she wanted to be spanked until now. At least, by him.
Save that for another movie night.
