Gotham's Discontent
A/N: This is literally the dirtiest smut I've ever written. Enjoy ;D
Chapter Nine: Porn with a Plot
Thursday evening was Movie Night. Granted, most of the showings were usually B-rated comedies and the first showing was hilarious; however, for the last year, the activity coordinator had shown the same five movies in a recycled schedule; so Deedee and her company had seen all five at least 30 times. It lacked luster, intrigue, and especially at Jerome's painful sake, none of them were funny anymore. However, the activity coordinator—not really an officer or a nurse, but a poor SOB whom had been roped into this sort of thing rather than being a janitor working nights—had rallied that a new movie would be better to play to avoid any more violence: Deedee's small excursion in her bedroom with Officer Lawrence Greenburg had been a perfect nudge to declare war on boredom (Arkham Asylum's Powers That Be had decided that boredom was the reason why Deedee had revolted on the perverted officer rather than sexual assault), so it was an agreement across the directors' board that Movie Night would include something particularly raunchy.
Jerome took his place by Deedee's side in the back row; Sionis took Aaron to the front so that Aaron could have the best seat; Greenwood and Dobbs took their seats in the middle row. The lights dimmed as the ten other inmates discussed in low—or loud—voices at the prospect of seeing something different other than slapstick comedy; and the women gushed about the idea of seeing frontal nudity and romance that none of them had seen—Unless, of course, they wanted a favor from Sionis, Deedee thought casually, glancing up at the front row where she noticed that Loosey Goosey had taken a seat directly behind the former businessman in hopes of citing a reprieve from Arkham Night Fever.
Greenwood and Dobbs held a conversation not so subtle about how any movie rated PG-13 or above could feature a wide collection of "A-Class Titties" and at the very least, one of the actresses would show their bare ass in the middle of the film for some reason or another. A few other men chimed in enthusiastically that it would be the most action they'd seen in years; and at the very least, it would make excellent fodder during the lonely nights in their separate cells. They discussed it as if they were talking about a table spread buffet instead of women.
Of course, Greenwood would be enthusiastic at the thought of having his cake and eating it too, Deedee thought as Greenwood mimed what he would do if he had gotten a woman in front of him. A very vulgar display—not unlike the pantomime that she had daily received from the older gents whom had been in the audience during some of her circus performances.
Jerome and Deedee had had their fair share of entertainment in the Circus Family; and while they were given little time in front of the television unless their mother had been absent on a love excursion, there hadn't been too many movies to influence exactly what love was supposed to feel like, what sex was supposed to look like, or how a family should act. The epitome of family had always been Lila's influence and how Deedee and Jerome had survived her while their brother, Jeremiah, had been sent away to live a better life with Uncle Zack and his petulant wife.
The movie in question was exactly as pornographic as promised, with the only excuse for being so was that the protagonists were wanna-be adult film stars searching for a place to film and founded at an abandoned love cabin in the middle nowhere—the antagonists being an old couple from across the street whom had been killing tourists or visitors when made available. It was quite plain that violence aside, the activity coordinator had decided that instead of wanting to make his patients laugh and then become bored, it was better to make them horny instead so they'd be focused on the film rather than the violence.
While the film itself was "intriguing", save for the pornstars fucking on screen, Jerome's attention was elsewhere. His eyes were on his sister, and his mouth curved into a smirk as he watched Deedee's neck flush—whether it was from embarrassment as the group watching the smut on film or because she was aroused, Jerome couldn't know for sure. But what he knew was that her neck was flushed, and she was taking slow breaths, as if to calm herself.
Feeling his eyes on her, Deedee glanced away from the screen.
"What?" she mouthed, smiling in a way as if she had been caught.
Jerome gestured with his chin for her to lean in closer. Deedee gave a warning glance up front where the activity coordinator clearly was engrossed in the film as well; that man was none the wiser to whatever was happening behind his back. Deedee saw movement in the middle row, and those whom had lost any inhibition were no doubt screwing themselves from underneath the provided blankets. The coordinator had made every effort to accommodate the inmates on a Thursday night, if silently pleading that there not be any reckless shenanigans on the one night where he had changed the schedule. Of course, Deedee thought with a smirk, if it went as planned, then this would be a regular occurrence. And that would bode well for the both of them, she and Jerome, to be blanketed (literally and figuratively) by the cover of the dimly lit room in the back row.
Deedee obliged Jerome, leaning in close to hear what he had to say; instead, Jerome firmly grasped the side of her neck—hot to the touch—and pulled her close into a silent kiss. Owing to the knowledge that Deedee had the worst inclination to stay quiet (and the fact that Jerome could never commit to the idea, for he wanted to hear her), it would be quite the game to see if they could outlast the overall ambience of the rest of their company in front of them. Several had "gasped" at the scary moments on screen, but in reality, the gasps were muffled whimpers of pleasure from their right hands—or in some of the cases in front of them, from each other.
It was a quiet fuckfest, at the hindrance of the turned back of the activity coordinator, whom probably in his own young mind would be turned on at the fact that the group of maniacs were so well-behaved, he probably took enjoyment that they were trying to hide it from him.Either a person had to be corrupt or insane to work at Arkham Asylum: That was a statement that anyone could agree on.
Jerome grinned in the middle of the kiss, prompting a smile from his sister as well, whose breath had hitched when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. It had felt like months since he had slipped into her prison cell unawares of Officer Laura Greenburg—And it had been as long, due to the fact that Laura had done her damndest to make sure that no one would enter her cell without her knowledge. With no real alloted time to be alone, Jerome and Deedee hadn't had the delicious opportunity to—
"Shh…" Jerome's lips purred against her mouth as a soft moan escaped her throat. His voice was barely above a whisper, but Deedee heard the growl in his voice with ease as he pulled away from the kiss to speak against the shell of her ear, "Don't want to ruin the movie for everyone else; we don't want to be a buzzkill."
Movements had to be made with subtlely, for even if the activity coordinator seemed to pay no mind, the audience of wanton voyeurs staring at the projection screen hungrily would easily hear them if their sounds were louder than the movie. It would draw the crowd; then surely, the movie would be cut from the top ten favorites on the playlist.
"They'd expect some sort of response," whispered Deedee with a voice of reason. "Porn with a plot."
"Hm, interested in making a movie?" Jerome replied, his lips pressed against the heated flesh of her neck.
"Don't know if movie-goers would watch a film about us," Deedee said, though Jerome detected it was with a struggle for her to remain clear-headed; he heard the breathless lift in her voice where he would have likely heard her utter some sort of mewl. She was never a woman for restraint; though she practiced it very well…for now.
Jerome glanced up to see her expression, and at first he thought that she was wary of the activity coordinator—however, her gaze had met the scene playing on the projection screen: a naked woman was bound to the headboard by the gentleman's leather belt; and her willing captor pulled himself onto the bed. Plain on screen, she was a willing participant as he placed his head between her bare legs and slipped his tongue inside her.
Deedee bit her bottom lip.
"Reminiscing, Deedee?" Jerome asked, sliding his hand under their shared blanket. Deedee pulled her eyes off the screen when she felt his long fingers grab the hem of her black and white striped inmate's dress and hike it up to her upper thighs. She'd want him to take her to the nearest unisex bathroom and shove her into the nearest stall to have his way with her. But this was more fun.
Deedee reached under the blanket and seized his wrist, shaking her head. "I can't stay quiet. We'll get caught…"
Jerome rolled his eyes and quietly knocked her hand away. Deedee felt his palm locate the light fabric of her panties, and felt the beginning of a growing ache between her legs at the simplest touch. Her jaw slightly fell agape as he wordlessly drew the letters of his name along the waist line of underwear with the tip of his thumb: J…E…R…O…M…E. His other fingers lightly brushed along the sheathed slit of her entrance—Deedee abandoned the idea of stopping him and instead spread her legs slowly to accompany his access and the length of the blanket that hid his ministrations.
"That's my girl…" Jerome whispered his praise, placing a small kiss against her cheek.
Under the blanket, he felt her hand rustle with an adamant aggression in her predictable, direct response to return the favor as she slipped her hand pass the elastic waistband of his lounge pants and found—with a delighted smile on her pretty face—the growing erection of his own desperate need for her attention. He had been left as wanting as she: for one night in exchange for a year of no physical contact had been ruthless punishment for his hand in Lila's murder.
Deedee palmed his cock with a light stroke; Jerome closed his eyes with a fleeting expression of pleasure, and he realized—too—that he'd have wanted to push her into a nearby unisex bathroom and have his way with her in the bathroom stall. Deedee made a furtive glance toward the activity coordinator, and then surveyed the audience whom were entirely engorged in the sex scenes happening on the projection screen—now there were two women scissoring each other on the bed—Deedee took that as her cue.
With an impish grin, Deedee lowered her head under the blanket—
"What are you—?" Jerome said suddenly, however he was silenced by Deedee's single finger against his lips as she retreated under the blanket.
Knowing fully well that to stop her would pain him more than to have her continue her deviant behavior—and honestly, he was intrigued by the idea of getting head while under the dim lights in a room filled with fellow inmates—Jerome remained silent as he felt his sister pull his cock free from his pants and her gentle fingers coax his erection into a hard salute. He watched the scene on the projection screen—a redhead and blonde moaned each other's names as one went down on the other; but he felt Deedee's lips place a generous kiss against the tip of his cock and his eyes pinched shut. Jerome set his hand on the outside of the blanket, knowing her head was just underneath his palm, and he leaned back his head against the steel frame of his chair as her lips encased his throbbing cock in her mouth.
Jerome's brow furrowed, and he wanted to moan her name—she deserved that approval—but his hand balled into a tight fist and his hips bucked against her talented mouth as she began to suck his cock leisurely. The light movement of her head bobbing up and down under the blanket remained unnoticed, for the air in the room had begun to fill with the ambience of silent moans—and surprisingly, the activity coordinator made no attempt to stop the film.
So he must be enjoying it as well. The young man running this thing hadn't moved the entire time; though Jerome noticed that the only movement coming from him were slow strokes from his right hand. He was masturbating.
Jerome grinned, finding the entire environment to be funny; but he didn't make much more noise than he would have if the room had been silent. As long as the rest of the crowd were louder than he or Deedee, the movie would go on. Apparently.
Deedee lightly grazed the shaft of his cock with her teeth; Jerome uttered a small groan. He felt her lips part, knowing she was smiling against him. He felt the familiar tightening of a climax, and abruptly stopped her with his hand. Not yet. Deedee uttered an audible whine, one that he was familiar with, for she would have sent him toward oblivion if given her way. Deedee slowly rose from the blanket, wiping the saliva from her chin, clearly disappointed that he had stopped her. Though, in moments, it was plain why he was in no rush.
The inmates surrounding them moved with their own attempts at subtley. Jerome whispered in her ear; Deedee glanced at him with an amused expression and looked toward their peers—Greenwood and Dobbs had found willing participants in their own games: two women that Deedee didn't know, but wasn't surprised that the blanket covered their heads as well. Sionis hadn't abandoned his seat with Aaron—Aaron had taken a seat on the floor, so close to the screen that his own mother would have disciplined him for being so close, staring up at the two women in fascinated awe. Sionis, a man with no shame, had invited Loosey Goosey to sit beside him; though he was knelt down in front of her—He had made no attempt at hiding his performance from the activity coordinator.
It seemed quite clear that that their last conversation at dinner about Darwinism had effected everyone greatly—Sex was one of the main drawbacks of being in Arkham: not a lot of ample time to enjoy it. But clearly, the man in charge might have made some sort of deal with Richard Sionis, perhaps money or his own quirks in Arkham Asylum that the activity coordinator had simply weaved a web where he had given Sionis a way to acclimate all his needs.
And Deedee and Jerome didn't take the opportunity lightly. This one, Jerome wouldn't wave as it passed by.
Jerome took Deedee's hand and gestured for her to follow him. Deedee did so, and he led her to the darkest corner of the room. The inmates paid no mind at the movement in the very back row, nor that either of them had moved from their seats. Jerome walked Deedee backwards toward the wall, hidden from view, leering at her through hungry eyes. Deedee glanced down at his erection pushing through his pants; she reached for him, hoping to continue, but Jerome shook his head, batting her hand away.
Jerome pinned her against the wall with his body, and Deedee uttered a breathless gasp as he slipped his hand under her dress, sliding his palm down in her panties with a silent demand—Deedee whispered a word of caution, but Jerome silenced her senseless warnings with his mouth, kissing her passionately. A muffled squabble against the dark wall of the room drew a few glances, but none that paid much more attention than if one heard a mouse in a kitchen cabinet.
Deedee moaned into the kiss as his fingers found her slick entrance. He didn't hesitate to slip his middle digit inside her, and one her hands clenched tightly around his wrist, knowing she wouldn't stay silent during his lustful thrusting as his thumb found her clit. Deedee made a small whimper, feeling her walls clench tightly as he slipped a second finger inside her—she felt her knees buckle, her dress making rustling noises against the wall. Jerome broke the kiss, and he watched her slowly crumble at his touch.
Deedee's face flushed; and at the growing ache for him and the sounds coming from the projection screen, her lips curled into a careless smirk as reached for the waistband of his lounge pants and pulled them down to reveal his throbbing erection. Jerome, momentarily surprised by her silent plea, gave her a look: Here, now? With everyone in the room?
Deedee said, "The entire asylum knows what we are, what we do."
Jerome shrugged carelessly, reaching under her dress and pulling her panties down her bare legs, "I love the way you think."
"I know." Deedee remarked.
Jerome brought his hand around her neck and he pulled her to the floor. Deedee laid on her back against the concrete, pulling up her dress to reveal her swollen clit and the wet trail of arousal dripping down her inner thigh—Jerome pulled down his pants to his knees, knowing damn well that solid concrete would hurt them both in their own punishing ways:
He gave no warning.
Jerome slipped his cock through her wet entrance, to which Deedee moaned out loud. One might have thought it was just surround-sound of the projection screen. However, it attracted a few heads to face the shadowy corner of the room. Jerome, knowing they'd both pay the price of fucking during in the movie (or perhaps not if Sionis had a part to play in the editor's choice), slipped his hand around Deedee's neck and applied pressure just as she liked it, as he made rough thrusts into her. He shoved her dress up to her stomach, granting him full access to her body as he pushed into her.
Deedee's moans weren't quieted. She didn't care who saw. She didn't care who heard. There was no such as thing as letting the world see love—this was animalistic lust. She felt the concrete against the small of her back, the frictitious grain against her soft flesh; but—
Jerome pressed his face into Deedee's neck, uttering a gutteral growl against her skin—a well-deserved release of pent-up sexual frustration.
The sounds and movement attracted several heads, and some of the inmates rose to their feet with interest.
"It's Valeska," one of them said.
"Which one?" another asked enthusiastically.
"Both of them," Sionis's voice said with amusement, closest to them, one of approval and amusement.
Deedee felt Jerome's mouth curve into a delighted smirk against her heated flesh. They could have made a movie. He might have enjoyed the attention as the star of the show, but his gaze was fixated on Deedee, whose eyes had clenched tightly as Jerome made heavy and brutal thrusts against her aching hips and his hand tightened around her throat. She moaned his name, a wanton and drawn out plea.
"What, Deedee?" Jerome growled against her jaw, hearing her utter helpless and needy whimpers from a suffering windpipe.
Her mouth dropped, and he knew that she was close to climax. But they seemed to have both agreed to make a show of it. They now had an audience of their own. Jerome pulled out of her—
Deedee, as predictable in her fiery response, slapped him across the face for cutting her climax short. While Sionis and the onlookers might have thought that he would have responded violently, Jerome broke into a mad grin. She stared, admittedly irritably, at Jerome as she laid on her back. Greenwood and Dobbs had made their way toward the interesting display, intrigued and open-mouthed at the sight before them.
"Oh my…" Dobbs uttered.
"Finish what you started," said Deedee irritably, ignoring the fanfare.
The activity coordinator, clearly taking notice of what was trangressing, made a move toward them; however, Sionis stepped in between the Valeska siblings and he, using a large hand to stop him.
"Now, now, Peter, I want to see the rest of the show." Sionis greeted him by name. "You know the deal. Let whatever transpires, transpire."
"This is not—" Peter the activity coordinator tried to object; but the looming idea of fifteen, sex-deprived inmates having their entertainment abruptly interrupted sounded more violent than Deedee smacking the living shit out of her brother for simply pulling out. "All right, Richard…"
Deedee, flushed and half-naked on the concrete floor, turned to Peter angrily, "Are you done?"
"Delilah—" Peter the activity coordinator began, but Jerome—also flushed and half-naked—took the closest thing to him (a discarded metal bar) and furiously flung it at the man; it landed harshly across Peter's head and sent him flying across the floor, slamming into abandoned steel chairs. Sionis shrugged understandably, made his way toward the now injured Peter, and he said quite plainly,
"Deedee wasn't the one you needed to worry about."
Despite the audience (though taking enjoyment at the voyeurs around him), lowered his head between Deedee's legs; although her cheeks were red from his disruption, and her eyes were furious from the coordinator's audacity for speaking her name, Jerome made well on her defiant statement. Sionis and company turned their seats to face them, quietly (so courteous) watching the Valeska siblings engage in their own version of the R-rated film still playing on the projection screen.
Perverse in its own right, Deedee felt as if she did on center stage in Haley's Circus—still winning the hearts of the men and the envy of the women in the audience, though her eyes watched Jerome—The real star of the show.
Jerome had hiked up his lounge pants for discretion, and he lowered Deedee's dress over his head where the onlookers couldn't see what he was doing—although they could watch, he'd not allow them to see her explicitly; they knew, for Deedee uttered a shuddered breath, setting her thighs over his shoulders as she felt his tongue flick across her swollen clit, aching for his attention. Jerome held her still with one hand, and she stared up at the ceiling as she felt him enter two fingers inside her. Deedee felt the hot tension begin to build quickly in her core. His slow thrusts beckoned her hips to buckle under his gentle pressure; she let out a long moan, eyes clenched shut as she felt his tongue make his predicted swirl around her clit.
The audience, tamed by Sionis—if anyone moved, he snapped his fingers for them to remain in their seat; he was running the joint, and nobody could say any different—made their noises of approval and expressions as they watched Deedee's hips buck against Jerome's hidden administrations under her dress, her fingers embedded in Jerome's grip on her waist—her other hand clawed at the concrete as if it were the mattress of her own cell, begging for release.
She felt Jerome's lips smirk against her heated flesh, and her walls tightened around his fingers, and his tongue tasted her as her back arched—
"I'm coming," she breathed,
Jerome, as if given his cue, suddenly started pumping his fingers in and out at a rapid pace—Deedee squealed at the shift in speed, and convulsed as her muscles contracted. She pulled her dress off his head and ceased Jerome's hair in her hands, pushing her needy pussy against his tongue as she met his quick fingered thrusts with wanton hips—Jerome uttered a wicked chuckle, his voice vibrating against her, all the while she fell into a second orgasm, rendered into a silent release as she stared up at the ceiling.
When her heart stopped throbbing in her chest, Deedee lowered her dress. Jerome rose to his feet, and he offered his hand for Deedee to take. Her back was scraped; and Jerome's legs were worse for wear from rubbing against the concrete. And when they faced Sionis and company, Jerome glanced up at the projection screen where the credits began to roll, and then he offered the audience a sarcastic bow. Deedee scoffed, but joined in a flippant curtsy, beaming in afterglow.
Sionis and company began to applaud, though he was sarcastic—but the others whom didn't know them personally might have thought that it had been part of the night's festivities. Dinner and a show…and another show.