"We finally got the little fucker!" Victor exclaimed from outside Oswald's place. You nearly flinched from hearing the hitman's hoarse voice, and you rushed over to open the door for him, only to be greeted by the ginger being tugged by the neckline of his shirt by Victor.
"Just wait till Oswald comes back, he's going to have a lot to say to you," Victor told Jerome, mocking the ginger's laugh against his ear. You wondered how he was able to catch the infamous ginger, but you didn't bother asking questions, or else you figured that Victor would probably hush you to be quiet.
Jerome only whistled as his eyes drank in the sight of you, not even bothering to look at Victor, "Who's the cutie? I'd like to show her a thing or two," he remarked before he was hauled off into another room, cackling as he was pushed into it.
"Yada yada yada," Victor slammed the door shut and shot you a glower when he noticed you were watching the whole time, "What?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head.
"Nothing," you answered quickly.
"I'll be right back, don't want the little sly ginger getting away somehow," Victor left to the room he threw him in, only to leave a couple of minutes after he restrained the ginger. When Victor went off somewhere else, you peeked through the peephole, and Jerome wasn't doing anything in particular, just looking about his surroundings.
"What type of game are you playing at, Jerome?" you whispered to yourself before you impulsively pulled the knob to the door. You knew Victor didn't want you in the same room as him, but you couldn't help it. You were tired of staying by the sidelines while Victor and Oswald did all the work, you wanted to have a little fun of your own. Besides, it didn't hurt that the ginger was attractive, you had to admit, that big smile was infectious.
The room Jerome was in was brightly lit and the walls bare. The only fixtures were a single metal table bolted to the floor and two metal folding chairs. He sat in one of the chairs, hands cuffed to the table's underside by shackles made of inhibiting metal.
"Well hello, doll, I was expecting you," he greeted you with a wide grin, and you gave him a stern look in return, trying to play it as if there was no way you would fall for his boyish charm, and you found yourself failing miserably when he looked at you with that smile.
"You guys should really think about repainting," he said, gazing at the ceiling. "Those water stains really bring down the tone of the room," he jested.
"Oh shut up," you spat, attempting to silence him, but of course it was to no avail.
He turned back to look at you when you spoke up, "You're looking great tonight, I have to say,"
"Do you know how much trouble you're in, mister?" you asked. You sat opposite to him in the other chair, dressed in a button down shirt and burgundy skirt. The matching jacket had been draped over the back of the chair when you sat down, and his smile only widened. "You should, because Oswald's not very pleased with you."
He shrugged, "Do what you want, dollface," he taunted, "you don't scare me."
"You should," you nearly hissed, "I can be pretty scary," you shot him a piercing glare.
He leaned forward as far as the shackles would let him and ogled you openly, "Nah, I can tell you're a softie, doll," he jested, and he swayed his tongue around his lips in interest as he kept his eyes locked on you, "Say, why don't we cut to the chase, eh? You can show me a thing or two, I could show you a thing or two, it'd be like a trade," he mocked with a loud laugh.
"If you think you're getting out of this by trying to be cute," you barked, "you've got another thing coming."
"Oh, I know what I've got coming, all right," he smirked, licking his lips slightly.
"Is everything a joke to you?" you growled, and he laughed, reveling in the fact that he was getting under your skin.
"Hmmm," he acted as if he had to think about it first before he answered, "Nope, just the citizens of Gotham mainly, or maybe just people in general, the earth itself, the whole shebang," he shrugged his shoulders.
You shook your head at that and stalked over to where he sat. You ran your fingers through his hair almost gently. He closed his eyes at the soft touch and you smirked before turning the gentle scrape of nails into a punishing grip on his hair. He only laughed as his head was pulled back hard, his face upturned to look into yours.
"Ooh, so you like to play rough, huh? I kind of expected that," he chuckled.
You shoved him forward, and he just barely caught himself before his head hit the table. He lifted his head and looked across the table, continuing to laugh, "Is this where the interrogation is going? You're going to seduce me?"
"Seduce?" you replied with a snort, "I'm not trying to seduce you, Jerome. Oswald wants to kill you," you told him, "He wants to take a jab at Theo because he killed his mother, and what better way to do that then to get rid of the guy who does all his dirty work?"
"Well, if you're wondering where Theo is, I can't tell you that," he grinned when you returned to your seat in front of him. "I can deal with that little fucker when he comes back, but for now, I've got other plans," his lips curved into a Chesire-cat like smile, satisfied. "Why don't we cut to the chase, doll? I think we both know the reason why you came here."
"I came here because I wanted to see how dumb you looked because you got caught," you mocked, and he chuckled upon your answer.
"Oh really?" he tilted his head to the side, "be honest with yourself, dollface," he leaned as close as he possibly could. "You wouldn't be here if there wasn't something you wanted."
"And what would I want exactly?" you leaned forward, your lips barely apart, and it only made his lips curve in a wider grin, if that was even possible.
"I don't think either of those fuckers are giving you the attention you deserve," he started, chuckling loudly, as if this whole situation was just a joke. "Aren't you sick of just always following whatever they say like some kind of lap dog?" he continued, and you snarled in response, already fed up with his games, and how every word he spat was the cold hard truth. "Don't you want to do something for you for once?"
You nibbled on your lower lip as you took in everything he said, thinking about what he was purposing, and how he was absolutely right, though you didn't want to admit it. "Whatever," you scoffed.
"I think these handcuffs would look better on you, personally, but that's just me," he lifted his hands and jiggled them a little to demonstrate what he meant. "What do you think?"
You couldn't stifle the giggle that spilled through your lips and as soon as it was emitted, you covered your mouth with a hand, which only amused him further.
"How about I make you a deal, doll?" he suggested, his eyebrows quirking upwards.
"What type of deal?" you asked, slowly inching away from his face.
"If you uncuff me, I can relieve some of that tension in your body," he ogled you up and down, his eyes following the heaving of your chest. "Sounds like a fair deal, right? I'm itching to play with such a pretty face," he winked. You felt a wave of arousal wash over you as he spoke, and you knew he could see the blush spreading across your face, but you started not to care.
Your mind was playing a delicious scenario in which he ripped all of your clothes and had you on every available surface in the room, but the one that you found yourself thinking about the most was of him taking you on the table. You felt a burning need crawling just under your skin, scratching away at any logical reasoning you had left. The more you thought about it, the more you came to accept and agree with it. There was a familiar tugging in your stomach and before you could dwell further into what was causing it, you rushed over to unlocked the cuffs on his wrists with the key you stole from Victor.
"That easy, huh?" he jested, and before you knew it he was on you almost immediately. He roughly took you by your hair all of a sudden and pushed you down hard against the cool table with his body firmly pressed upon yours. You yelped upon the harsh impact against your skin, and he merely laughed in response. "I always stay true to my promises, doll," he told you.
"Just get on with it," you dared. He looked as though he was weighing your words against his own thoughts before he tore your shirt off in one quick go, letting the shreds drop to the floor somewhere, and your bra was quick to follow, leaving you exposed.
"More than happy to oblige," he quipped. His hand was a rough contrast to your soft skin as he gave your breast a firm squeeze, and a smirk quirked at the corners of his mouth as he rolled his fingers around.
You slid a hand between your bodies to work upon his button and zipper with nimble fingers. He had a hand tightly clenched in your hair, pulling you forward into a rough clash of kisses. You eased a hand within his trousers as they loosened, and you teased your fingers along his shaft before easing his member out. You inched from the kiss, your eyes lidded as you slowly stroked him, watching with interest for his reaction.
His hand only tightened in your hair, yanking you closer to him in a sharp pull. You mewled in response, much to his delight. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were stormy with arousal, which only spurred you on. You eased yourself up so that you were sitting, keeping yourself straightened up just enough to move a hand between you two so that you could remove your skirt along with your flimsy panties in an instant, letting them join the floor. His grin grew wider when you did so, and you guided the head of his member to brush against your folds. To silence a moan, you leaned forward to chase a kiss, but his hand flexed in your hair and stopped you, which only gave you cause to moan louder.
"That's right, don't try to silence yourself, doll, I want to hear every pretty sound," he rasped.
And just like that, he had turned the tides in his favor. He pushed your hand aside and eased his own between the juncture of your legs. He didn't have the patience to tease you for his own amusement or pleasure, and roughly pressed a finger inside.
"Oh fuck, you're a little wet bitch, aren't ya?" he scoffed.
"Jerome!" you gasped as you felt a second slip inside of you, tilting your head back. His fingers were rough and thick as they curled against your inner walls, and every time he inched his hand back and rocked forward, you rolled your hips to drive them further inside. You reached out to clasp tightly onto his shoulders as you felt the fiery tendrils of pleasure rolling down your spine.
"I knew neither of those fuckers had what it took to please you," he uttered in a husky growl, "How long's it been, hm?" he questioned, his heated breath bathing over your skin as he moved his hand free of your hair, then using it once again to cup your breast, "How does a slut like you survive for that long without being fucked?"
"Mhmm, sh-shut up," you managed to speak around a loud gasp, and he chuckled darkly at that.
He swiped a thumb over your pert, sensitive nipple, then did the same with the hand between your legs, rubbing the roughened pad of a finger against your clit in quick, tight circular motions.
You arched your back as he alternated how he stimulated you without any clear pattern for you to grow used to. You could feel wanton words on your tongue, lustful and desperate, and in an attempt to silence yourself, you leaned forward again, but he kept you firmly in place. "Dammit!" you hissed between clenched teeth.
"Nuh-uh, stay put like a good girl," he ordered. "Don't you know how to obey orders?" he teased. A mischievous expression came over his features, clearly reveling in the state he had you in, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you.
You curled your fingers against his shirt, wishing it was on the floor with your other clothes so you could dig your nails into his skin.
"Inside," you whispered through your loud breathing, trembling from the heat that coursed through you, barely able to get out your words. "I want-" you tried to continue, your gaze locked on his as you roughly bucked your hips against the fingers within you and the one pressed against your clit.
"Go on," he mocked, his laughter ringing in your ears. "Come on, speak up, doll," he urged, "you know, silence makes me uneasy."
"I want you inside me, claiming me, fucking me, now please!" you cried. You found your words, firm and demanding, just as you felt yourself becoming lost in the pleasure.
"You really want me to fuck you hard?" he asked, and you nodded your head hastily, much to his amusement. "Louder," he ordered.
"Please, take me, please!" you moaned out, making him laugh louder.
"That's more like it," he purred. You tossed your head back, eyes closed tight as your hips cantered forward, driving his fingers deep within you. Your hands clenched tighter, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, crying out his name, letting the heat and passion consume you, your legs trembling violently before your orgasm ripped through.
You allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath, and even before you opened your eyes, you knew he had watched every second of your release with the smug satisfaction in knowing that it had come from his doing. You smirked as your sight came into focus, your eyes meeting his, and you were nothing if not just as pleased as the ginger over the turn of events, but you weren't going to admit that out loud. You eased yourself back, your feet brushing against the cold sides of the table.
"Fuck, you made quite a mess, doll," he looked down between your legs, taking in the sight of how you glistened before him and the mess that spilled on the table. "What do we do with a messy table, doll?" he tilted his head, awaiting an answer from you.
You swallowed a thick gulp before you answered, "Clean it."
He burst out laughing, "Wrong answer," he took you by your hair roughly once again, pushing your face down hard against the cool surface of the table. "We make it messier," he whispered hoarsely against the shell of your ear before he nipped at it. "Then," he paused, "you will clean it," he finished with a grin.
You shivered at the feeling, from both the cold surface of the table against your body and the feeling of his warmth over you, pushing close against you from behind. No amount of banter would hide how hard he was, how much he desired to act on his arousal. "Are you so impatient that you would have me here and now?"
He hurriedly pushed his trousers down along with his boxers and nudged your legs apart quickly. "I knew you were kinky, but this," he shook his head, acting like he was disappointed, "do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Fuck me already, you fucking asshole," you growled through clenched teeth, wishing that he would shut his pretty mouth and just take you.
"You have such a way with words, dollface," he taunted. You eased your forearms under you for support, your hands pressed flat against the table, and you took in a slow breath. He gave no warning when he took you with the first rough thrust, his member filling you completely. You arched your back when you felt his hand on your hip, holding you firmly in place with a grip that was sure to bruise.
You had no qualms against the rough pace he had set with his movements, the power behind each thrust being driven into you was more pleasurable than you could ever describe. He felt the same, given the low, husky moans that sounded deep in his throat, mingling with your own.
Your fingers curled against the table's smooth surface and you imagined your nails raking long, red lines down his broad muscled back. Next time, you assured yourself. There would be more encounters like this, of that you were certain, or at least you hoped.
"Faster, please, faster," you uttered breathlessly.
"Mmmm, I love how tight you feel around me, makes me wanna take you all night," he cooed. His grip tightened in your hair as he suddenly pulled you up against him. You felt hungry, hurried nips that traced your jaw, chased by the heat of panted breath. His other hand cupped your breast, forefinger and thumb working together to stimulate your nipple in tandem to his heavy set thrusts.
"Oh yes, just like that!" you ground out, the words slipping out helplessly. To keep yourself steady, you brought a hand to the nape of his neck, where you sharply drew your nails against his yielding skin. That earned you a moan of your name, and more than anything, you wished you could look into his piercing eyes as he claimed you, as he breathed your name. You called out to him as you leaned back against him for support.
"I love hearing you beg, fuck," he grunted, "but what really gets me going, is seeing you grind your hips against me like a little bitch," he said hoarsely.
You savored the sounds of moans and gasps and skin on skin you both shared, and your words were a confession, a feverish mantra of his name for only him to hear.
Whether urged on by his name or carnal desire, he spurred his pace on, his hands held tight to your hips to pull you back and meet each thrust, making each one harder and deeper than the last.
"Imagine what those fuckers would think if they saw me taking you like this," he started, his voice raspy as he breathed heavily, "I bet that thought crossed your mind," he teased, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. "Only a little slut likes to be fucked where she can get caught," he hummed.
You couldn't even register what he was saying exactly, your whole body was focused on the pleasure you were receiving and how you tried to steady your grip on his skin so you wouldn't slip off the table. His hips started quivering as his member twitched deep inside of you, and you knew he was close.
His mouth dropped open and he threw his head back. He thrust in hard, pelvis coming flush with your ass, and he bit his lip to cut off a long groan as he came, hips shuddering with every pulse. Your breath caught in your throat when you were driven over the edge into your own climax.
He remained inside you long enough to catch his breath, then suddenly jerked back to move away. You turned so sharply that your hair tossed about, messy locks spilling over the table. You let out a breathy groan when he pulled out and moved to your side, catching his breath. You lifted your head to look at him, blinking dazedly as he smirked, more than a little smugly, down at you. You laughed shakily.
"I thoroughly enjoyed that, I wouldn't mind having another interrogation session again, but," he trailed off, removing himself from the table and pulled his clothes back in hurriedly, zipping and buttoning himself back up. "I really gotta get going, places to be, people to see," he laughed.
"Did you plan that all along?" you asked him, voice raw from moaning. He lowered a hand to your face, tenderly pushing your hair away from your eyes. He leaned down, kissing you softly on the cheek. "Getting caught for a quick fuck from me?" you continued. You wouldn't put it pass him.
"Oh don't flatter yourself doll, though, I always wanted to do it in an interrogation room such as this," he mused before he added, "Would I really do such a thing?" he whispered. You bore your eyes into his, examining the devilish glint in them, finding yourself under his spell, but you figured it would be over once the aftershocks subsided.
"Yeah," you finally answered, "you would."
You wondered to yourself if he let himself be caught, he was a sly one that was without a doubt, and you knew how unpredictably crazy the ginger was, so it wasn't out of the question.
"Well, I'll be on my way," he sauntered over to the back exit door, "Thanks for the free pass, doll, I won't forget you!" he blew a kiss your way before rushing out the door. You sighed heavily before looking down at the key you used to free his wrists, already regretting the decision you made to let him go. You swung the set of keys around a single finger, reflecting on how you were going to explain this to Victor, and especially, Oswald.