After sucking her fingers completely clean, Joker plopped his head down just above her breasts; scarred cheek rubbing a few times into her chest. He seemed content to keep her crushed beneath him, his breaths calming until they were non-verbal. His cock was still sheltered inside her, keeping her deliciously full despite becoming flaccid.
His weight should have been uncomfortable, Joker was not a lightweight by any means despite his sometimes lanky appearance.
But her animal instinct was interpreting the body holding her down as nothing short of wildly satisfying. Embarrassingly, the first word that came to mind was claimed. As if the sex they'd had wasn't enough, he needed to show she was now forever a permanent resident of his arms. At this moment and time, she held no issue with that.
Her hands were operating with a mind of their own. One rested in Joker's damp hair, offering his scalp soft, soothing circles. The other settled itself onto his back. Initially, it just rested there, content to hold him against her. But restlessness eventually crept in, and the nails of her index and middle began to trace eight letters over and over again into his skin.
S – O – U – L
M – A – T - E
It didn't take Joker long to catch on to what she was writing. His arms coiled around her even tighter.
Celine didn't have the chance to consider how terribly sappy she was being. In truth, every pleasure-inducing chemical in her brain was behaving like a never-ending firework show. The post-coital state she'd read about in Harlequin novels wasn't an exaggeration. The afterglow wavered in intensity, sometimes so light it felt like a mild high, sometimes so heavy her muscles contracted firmly enough for a low rumble to sound from Joker's chest.
I could get addicted to this.
Clarity was slow to return, and with it arrived pain. Her injured hand was the first to begin aching. Followed by her thoroughly ravaged mouth, specifically , her bottom lip that'd been the victim of Joker's teeth more times than she could count. Then her tailbone, back, nose, and eventually entire body. From head to toe she felt like one throbbing bruise.
"Jack," she breathed out. "I need to take my meds."
"Mm," was his low response. "No ."
Her sigh nearly depleted her of oxygen.
"Everything hurts," she tried. "Please?"
It took a full minute before he made any attempt at getting off of her. For what it was worth, the gesture made her feel warm. Him being so reluctant to part with her body. It was just that the pain outweighed that warmness by a country mile.
"Thank you," she said when he finally lifted his torso off her, still keeping her caged in with one hand on either side of her. "Sorry, it's all hitting at once. My hand and...my clumsiness from yesterday."
His expression went blank. The only indication he was experiencing some type of emotion was the flexing in his jaw.
He's...upset.
"I'd love to cuddle longer," she reassured, hoping he wasn't perceiving this as rejection. "And we will. So much you'll grow sick of it. But now...I have to get some painkillers in me, otherwise I'm not going to be much of use today"
He got off of her without a word. She watched him snatch up his sweatpants before stalking out of the room.
Frowning, Celine stared at the entrance, wondering what she did wrong. Guilt wormed its way into her gut. Should she go after him and ask?
Much as I want to, he's a grown man. If he wants to say what's on his mind, it's on him to say it.
She knew this was sound advice, but it was easier said than done. They were now connected not just mentally and spiritually, but physically too. Yet another reinforcement of their bond. It was hard not to feel some form of responsibility for his sudden moodiness.
I have to keep in mind what John said. Culpability complex. This is more than that, but it's definitely underlying my reaction right now.
She forced herself to steer her attentions to the matter at hand. Quite literally, her hand. It could do with a re-bandage seeing as a bit of Joker's blood had trickled onto it.
She got up, slipped on a new pair of panties (making sure to toss her shredded ones in the trash), and threw on an oversized t-shirt. A quick glance at the alarm clock made her grimace. It was nearly noon; Lu's cookout would be starting in the next couple hours. She needed to get things rolling if they were to arrive on time.
Her first stop was the bathroom to retrieve her medications. Her next stop the kitchen for a water bottle.
Two things immediately caught her attention.
The first was Joker. Through the small kitchen window, she could see him standing still, his back to her, gaze trained on the ocean. Both hands were moving in a fidgety manner, and she suspected he was carrying on a conversation with himself.
The second was at least a handful of puncture marks on the wall above the window; plaster decorating the floor beneath it. She'd not noticed it earlier as her sole focus was finding Joker and preventing him from nosediving into the countertop.
She knew it was his doing not because the marks looked as if he'd repeatedly drove a knife into them. No, it was the at least dozen or so band-aids with cartoonish dinosaurs on them, peppered clumsily over the gaps. She recognized the bandages as the ones she bought a few summers ago, previously stored in the bathroom. He no doubt had used them all.
Her smile went crooked. It was cute, and silly, and a little disturbing as she didn't know what the wall could have done to deserve such mutilation.
He must feel some remorse, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered.
She liked that idea. Now, explaining what happened to Uncle Lu would be a different story.
He didn't move from his spot outside, and she distanced herself from the window simply because it felt invasive watching him. Instinct told her he needed space right now. And truthfully, she could do with a little herself.
She ended up walking over to a side table in the hallway that held the house's only landline phone. Seeing as her cell phone was MIA, her next best bet was using this one to call her uncle. He always liked to reconfirm plans the day of, and no doubt had tried calling her cell already.
With one hand, she knocked back a couple of her pills, then chased it with some water. With the other, she picked up the phone and brought it to her ear.
Her brows furrowed upon hearing a lack of a dial tone.
She kept the phone to her ear for a little while longer, pushing down on the hook switch three or four times. But the same silence greeted her.
The line was dead.
"Huh."
On a whim, she knelt down to look at the outlet. Her face instantly went pale.
Someone had cut through the cable spring that connected the phone to the jack in the wall.
It had to have been him. Anyone else would have unplugged the cord.
She was slow to rise, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of apprehension that made her weak in the knees. On autopilot, she took the rest of her meds.
Why would he do that? I can't think of a single positive reason. Everything about it is something a serial killer would do to isolate their victim.
This thought caused the apprehension to graduate into dread. Her feelings were sprinting away, and her thoughts were sorely tempted to follow.
Okay. It...maybe...maybe it was done when he went into that headspace that I saw in the kitchen this morning?
Her intuition offered no clues as to whether she was right. She feared confronting him was her only option. Asking would be easy, accepting whatever response he gave...not as much.
She did some breathing exercises to calm down. It was an unwelcome reminder she supposed. No matter what just happened in her bedroom, Joker was still...Joker. Jack may be slowly but surely coming out, but the instinct that was Joker...two days spent together wasn't going to erase his influence overnight. Like all transitions, it would be a day-by-day thing.
Oddly enough, this reality check soothed her. Having sex with him and the heady aftermath had clouded her mind a little. She still had a long ways to go before she could fully let her guard down around him. Though, it was encouraging nevertheless that there were frequenter instances of it.
Focus on the positive. On how far we've both come since our first meeting.
Nodding to herself, Celine recapped her pill bottles and returned to the bathroom.
It was when she tossed the dirty ball of dressing and bandages into the trash that she felt Joker appear in the entryway behind her. She tried her best not to stiffen up, a little amazed at how tangible his gaze was.
She shifted a little in his direction, inaudibly letting him know she was aware of him, before getting to work on her hand.
"You should put some plastic between the dressing and bandage."
She almost jumped a little at his voice, not expecting him to be the first one to speak.
"My doctor said-."
He ignored the rest of her reply and approached; eyes glued to the bandages sitting on the seashell sink.
"Doctors teach you the bare minimum so it's easy to do it yourself," was his gruff response, pulling open the mirror to the medicine cabinet. "You uh...put a barrier between the two and you're less likely to get it wet or infected."
She opened her mouth, unsure what to answer back with. Joker's uncompromising gaze halted any words seeking passage.
"Okay."
A smirk ghosted over his lips. He picked up an unfamiliar box and took out a plastic thimble.
"I didn't realize we had that in there."
He took his time answering.
"Picked it up when we were shopping."
She tilted her head.
"I don't remember putting it in the cart."
He worked on applying the dressing first. Her comment remained unaddressed.
It took her a few seconds for it to sink in.
"You stole it."
His shrug was unbothered.
"Forgot it was in my pocket."
She wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but figured it was best to drop the interrogation. This wasn't the battle to choose. Similarly, Joker's past crimes could attest to how much of a kleptomaniac he was.
What it did was give explanation as to why her bandaged hand hadn't gotten as wet as she imagined it would after their swim. And the plastic was so lightweight and tightly capped she didn't even realize it'd been lodged between the dressing and bandages now in the trash.
He's got a line of thinking going that I can never predict. And that he seldom reveals to me, until the moment of action is upon him.
Her thoughts returned to the disconnected landline. She swallowed, mustering the courage to voice her worries.
"Did you cut through my landline cord?"
His hands froze for about three seconds before continuing their task.
"Mm, yeah ."
The casualness with which he answered emboldened her.
"Why?"
Again, another shrug.
"Didn't want any...mmm...distractions ."
"You couldn't have unplugged it?"
Her met her eyes.
"Your ah gonna want to let this one go, Cece ."
The warning was evident. She debated whether to heed it or not.
He sighed, fingers tightening on her.
"Not everything going on in my noggin'," he clarified with a tap against his temple, "is yours to know."
"I just wanted to see-." She swallowed. "-whether it was done with the intention of killing me."
He rolled his eyes before returning his attention to her hand.
"Contrary to what you might believe, you're not the only thing I think about." He made no effort at hiding the snideness in his tone. "But since we're on the topic of your death...really, you oughta consider another hobby... might benefit ya to know, I don't need t'a cut a landline to get away with your murder. Fact is, I could off ya in front of a crowd without anyone knowing it was me."
His revelation was the opposite of comforting. Though, she also suspected his intention was to make her feel insignificant. This conversation was quickly becoming charged with something pugnacious. Like she was one wrong word away from pissing him off.
Whatever tension buzzing in him failed to translate to his hands. They moved quickly and diligently, as if entirely separated from his brain.
She decided to adhere to his warning about letting it go. It didn't seem like the intention was related to her death, though, it would take some effort on her part to let the mystery go unsolved.
"What happened to the wall in the kitchen?"
"Mm...got angry ."
She nodded, knowing this would be to the extent he'd go into detail.
"The dinosaur band-aids," she noted, trying to lighten the mood, "were a... cute idea."
He shot her a stormy look.
"Cute," he grumbled to himself, applying the finishing touches. "How far you've strayed, Jacky boy."
The sarcasm was scathing. It was both an attempt at punishing her and himself.
She went silent, unsure what else to say. Unsure if she should say anything for the remainder of the day.
When he finally released her newly bandaged hand, she found the strength to murmur a "thank you" before veering around him and out of the bathroom. He immediately followed.
She paused upon reaching the door leading out to the ocean. How was it in the course of an hour she had gone from a babbling mess to intimidated into using her own voice?
I am really, really getting tangled in his emotions. Getting closer to him the way I did has only reinforced this connection. I...need to step back. Separate. Feeding off each other's suspicion, irritation, accusations will destroy this thing before it has a chance to get to its feet.
Again, she breathed in and out a few times, careful to do so quietly.
"I've um-." She cleared her throat, staring at the floor. "-if I recall right, we left stuff on the beach. I'm going to go grab it."
"Then what?"
It relieved her to hear his tone a little more neutral. Her eyes shot to a nearby clock.
"It's pretty late in the day. I'd cook us something, but it'll take too long. Lu's get-together starts in a couple of hours. You uh...you don't have to go if you don't want to. I can tell him you weren't feeling up to it."
He was silent for so long she thought he might have tip-toed away.
"We going straight there?"
Neutral again. It elevated her confidence.
"I should probably get some gas," she told him. "We can stop for a bite to eat too. Something small to hold us over. My family likes to take their time barbecuing."
"We ah going to Leo's ?"
Her eyes widened. She slowly turned to him.
"How do you know that place?"
He casually stroked one of his scars.
"Swear, you got amnesia. Research ," he re-emphasized. "You and ah mommy were photographed once for your local newspaper. Smack dab in front of the diner. She was uh...assistant manager, right?"
She nodded dumbly.
"That where we going?"
"I- if you'd like."
"Mm," he scanned the length of her body. "Happen to still have that waitress uniform you wore in the picture?"
His lasciviousness was both a welcome shift in the atmosphere and the source of a rampant blush staining her cheeks.
"No," she admitted, eyes dropping to his chest. "Threw it in the dumpster the day I quit."
"Shame. Was ah looking forward to you taking my order ."
A nervy laugh bounced out of her.
"Truthfully." She scratched the back of her head. "I could kind of be a... bitch to customers. Never without reason, but um... holding my tongue wasn't a strength of mine."
"Mm... feisty little waitress," he teased. "Might ah have to buy you a new uniform. See if I can't teach ya some... manners. Stuff your mouth with my tie so you can't sass back."
"You try and I'll bite off your fingers."
His laugh was dark and deranged.
"Oh, you'll come to like it, Cece . We'll ah...experiment with a reward and punishment system."
His cockiness was aggravating, but she refused to show it. It'd give him incentive to go in harder.
"Like now?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Every time you open your mouth, I'm being punished. Every time you close it, I'm being rewarded."
His smirk vanished.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Not hard to imagine you being a bitch."
She threw him the sunniest smile.
"Oh, you never have to imagine, Jack. I'm happy to remind you anytime."
He opened his mouth to continue their verbal spar, but she slipped out of the house before he could get the last word in.
He calls me a bitch as if it's an insult. Pshh. If you're a woman, you gotta be in this world sometimes to survive.
With a pep in her step, Celine made her way down to the beach.
x_X_x_X_x
"Motherfucker!"
Joker's nasally giggles rang throughout the house. Just when they threatened to die down, one look at her injected them with a burst of new life.
Celine, meanwhile, gritted her teeth. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, less because she was cold and more because of how pissed off she was.
She should've known better when upon returning to the house, arms stuffed with items they'd left at the beach, Joker uncharacteristically offered to help get them off her hands. He put away the stereo and quilt, while she set her backpack in the living room, found a spot on a bookshelf for her trip journal, gathered their clothes, and prepared the basin sink for them to soak in.
He was already cleaned up, ready to go. And when she gave his slimming dark blue jeans and white t-shirt clinging eagerly to his biceps an appreciative look, Joker said nothing in response. This was unusual, he never turned down an opportunity to poke fun at her for ogling him.
She in turn dressed in light silver tights and a long-sleeved, baby blue sundress flaring out just below her knees. The more injuries she could cover up – namely the scar she'd received from her first knife fight with Joker – the less questions she'd be on the receiving end of from her family.
Her hair was then hastily moussed, some concealer was applied to cover up her bruises, and she threw on a black purse whose strap crossed her torso diagonally.
Joker examined her with barely suppressed hunger. But even then, he failed to make a lecherous comment typical of his person.
She was just relieved he was in a better mood than he'd been. Which is why when he asked her to grab some socks from her mom's room, rather than ask why he couldn't do it himself, she complied. She wanted him in a good mood for what was to come.
Her mom's door was slightly ajar, and the moment Celine went to open it further, the bucket Joker had meticulously sat atop it, tipped, showering her in ice water. She twirled around in disbelief, chilled to the bone, eyes shut, hair drenched, nipples poking through the fabric of her soaked dress.
Joker was beaming from ear to ear, taking a rapid slew of photos from his phone.
"You ahaha you fell for the oldest trick in the book!"
This propelled him into the current laughing fit that could be heard from every room of the house.
And pulled out of her the "motherfucker!" that served to only make him laugh harder.
Now, Celine had spent a long time learning how to not be a reactive person. She sat with emotions, questioned their presence, and depending on the answer, sent them on their way or let them marinate.
Joker, talented clown that he was, seemed to be the only person on the planet capable of undoing years of hard work.
It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine, it's fi-.
She was moving before she could stop herself.
Joker had maybe a second to prepare as Celine launched herself at him. They landed on his back, forcing out a deep grunt from him.
"Asshole!" she yelped, slapping at his chest with both hands. "How the hell are you my soulmate!?"
His giggles only made her hit him harder, hair shaking loose some droplets onto him. In an instant, he had them flipped over.
"Ooo hoo hoo, bunny's hoppin' mad!" he cackled.
Possessed by an adrenaline only anger can provide, she punched him in the ribs. Not hard enough to cause legitimate harm, but hard enough that it momentarily caught him off guard. She then shoved his chest with as much force as she was able, causing him to lose just the right amount of balance for her to rapidly crawl out from beneath him.
It was when she managed to roll over onto her front that Joker pounced. An "oof!" fled her throat as he landed on top of her. One hand wound itself into her hair, the other slid beneath her chest and latched onto a breast. His thighs were parted on either side of her hips, and when he ground himself against her ass, all the air escaped her lungs. He was rock hard.
He began to hump her, first languidly and purposefully, then with less of a pace and more ambition.
"Naughty fucking girl," he hissed, groping her breast, "you like getting me worked up. Don't ya? Don't ya? "
She tried to respond, but all that came out was a series of garbled mewls. Her ass was doing its best to meet each one of his thrusts. How a prank had developed so quickly into foreplay was beyond her. How her pussy had gotten this slick in the span of minutes was even further beyond her.
"Answer me ," he ordered into her ear, jerking her head back, fingers sinking into her breast. "You deliberately provoke . Thinking...you can just... just ...tackle me and get away with it. No no no ... you're about to learn what bad bunnies get."
"I-," she gasped, "didn't mean-."
Before she could get the rest of her explanation out, Joker had shifted them onto their sides. The hand in her hair vanished, only for it to reappear around her throat. His fingers curled into a firm hold. The intention wasn't to cut off oxygen, but to keep her from getting so much as an inch of distance from him. His other hand released her breast, only to grab onto the v-neck of her dress and yank downward, exposing her chest.
His cock twitched against her ass as one hand splayed possessively over both breasts. He let it rest there, admiring the view from over her shoulder.
"From now on ," he grumbled, thigh clamping around her. "Any summer dresses you wear in public I need to approve first."
Though her body quivered at the fierceness in his tone, her mind mustered the will to issue a response.
"Like hell ," she argued. "I'm not letting your dick determine what I wear."
The hand around her throat squeezed once. He sucked in a deep breath and rapidly shook his head a few times.
"I know how men think, Cece, " he groused lowly, palming her breasts. "You all dolled up, lookin' like a fucking treat...no sane man wouldn't want a sample. But you're not theirs, are you? You're mine to fantasize about. Mine. Mine. Mine."
His words were becoming more crazed and less rational. She couldn't tell if he truly believed them or was letting the animal within speak for him.
"Not everyone is as perverted as you," she returned with a shudder, biting her lip when his scarred cheek brushed over the shell of her ear. "If I want to wear a dress, I'm going to wear a dre-."
Joker buried his face in her neck and released a warning growl. His tongue on her skin was wet and heavy. She ground her ass into him, lids fluttering at the contact.
She wasn't sure how it happened, but in a matter of minutes she was sprawled out on her back in the hallway; dress bunched up around her stomach, hands pawing at the front of Joker's jeans.
He was kneeling between her parted thighs, clawing at his shirt as if its mere presence on his skin was the gravest of offenses.
Their lips clashed before she was able to finish unzipping his jeans. She moaned into the kiss, hands shooting to the back of his head; fingers gripping onto his locks.
Neither were able to slow down and take their time with the other. A heated frenzy possessed them. No goal mattered more than touching as much of each other's flesh as was physically possible.
All too soon, Joker yanked off her panties, kneed her wide apart, and buried himself deep within her.
A groan stuttered out of her as her head slumped backwards. Joker continued assaulting her throat with feverish nips, hips snapping forward without mercy. His biceps were on either side of her head. No matter what direction she looked she was reminded of how utterly in his grasp she was.
It didn't even register that he failed to put on a condom. Any semblance of a coherent thought dissolved into a thoughtless oblivion. Her vocal cords were reduced to high-pitched grunts that from a bystander's perspective, probably sounded like she was getting mauled.
Quicker than she'd have liked, her orgasm contracted the muscles in her thighs. She arched her body, arms forcing him into her despite there being no more space between them. Her pussy clamped hard around him, eliciting a truly bone-rattling groan out of Joker.
Just as her pussy coated his cock in her juices, he abruptly pulled out and spilled himself all over her stomach.
It couldn't be helped. Celine whined . Faintly, she commended that he had the willpower not to cum inside her. Not so faintly, she cursed the empty feeling between her legs. Now that her pussy knew the pleasure of orgasming around his cock, it had a hard time desiring anything else.
For close to two minutes, she did nothing but pant, lower body humming from her second orgasm in less than an hour. Joker continued to loom above her, having just as poor of a time steadying his breaths.
When the mental fog finally cleared, she risked a look down. Her muscles tightened all over again as she watched Joker wipe the last of his cum off on her dress, grumbling violent, incomprehensible words to himself.
"There," he finally spoke, gazing up at her with a look of dark satisfaction. "You have my permission to wear the dress now."
She studied the cum-soaked fabric with an unimpressed frown.
"You're an unreasonable bastard, you know that?"
His scars twitched.
"Unreasonable?" he repeated with a smirk. "You're lucky I didn't fill you up with every last drop of my sperm and make you walk around like that for the rest of the day. Some would call that... charitable ."
She arched a brow.
"A real patron saint," came her mumble.
His grin was wolfish.
"Let this be a lesson, sweets. You wanna wear a dress? By all means, go for it. Just don't expect to have it on for long."
She dropped the back of an arm atop her forehead and sighed.
"Dress and underwear," she reminded him. "That's two garments you owe me."
Joker tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle. He pinched the tights rolled halfway down her thighs.
"Three," he informed, finger circling the huge hole he'd torn open in the rush to get her undressed. "Looks like I really got it out for your clothes. Might be best you uh start getting used to not wearing any."
He waggled his eyebrows in such an exaggerated manner that she found it impossible to stay mad at him.
"You're such a -."
She searched for the right word, but there were too many.
"Handsome," he interjected, "hilarious, intelligent-."
Her hand reached out to cover his mouth. He snatched it by the wrist and threaded his fingers through hers. His eyes were teeming with mirth.
"-clever, stunning," he continued to list off, louder, lowering his head, "shameless, well-endowed, wildly sexy-."
"La la la la la la," she interrupted, pressing the palm of her free hand over an ear. "La la la la la la-."
"-groundbreaking, satisfying, cunt-gushing-."
She tried to turn her head, but there wasn't much effort behind it. When Joker's lips sealed over hers, tongue eagerly claiming hers, she melted into him.
Maybe he had a point about clothes. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
At the rate they're frickle frackling, who knows if they'll make it to the cookout? And the audacity of Joker to call Celine a provocateur when he's the one toying with her nerves! Lets hope our girl finds a way to get back at him : ) !