Chapter Six
Breathing Soft on My Skin
Jack's POV
Corpulent gentlemen should really avoid bondage gear as a general rule, I mean is there anything more nauseating than a flabby backside displayed for all to see adorned in nothing but black leather chaps? I suppose that they wouldn't have been quite so revolting on Louie Romaro's sagging figure if he'd been wearing pants beneath the chaps, but I'm afraid that Jelly Belly was going au natural, running the risk of causing all who laid eyes on his mountainous backside...not to mention his miniscule wiener...to gouge their own eyeballs out in an effort to spare themselves from such a disgusting display.
I would imagine that most who knew him wouldn't expect to see him dressed in the chaps, accessorized with a two gun holster holding twin pearl handled six-shooters...fake ones, of course...and a cherry red cowboy hat...yippee ki-yay mamacita...but then they probably also wouldn't expect to find him passed out in front of Rough Riders, a nightclub that apparently specialized in providing wild west style action to the homosexual men in Gotham who appreciated that sort of, uh, thing. I don't have any personal experience with the goings-on inside the club, but it hadn't taken me long to find someone who would help me with my plan of revenge, for a surprisingly low sum of money. Apparently the mob fools had screwed him...heh, heh...out of some money in the past, once they found out about his tendencies to bat for the home team, and he was anxious to help in any way that he could to get back at Rizzuto and his crew.
I had paid him five hundred dollars, the two fifty that was owed to him by Anthony and another two fifty for compensation of posing with his fly open, his penis firmly inserted in the mouth of a very nervous looking Mr. Romaro. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing on my part to garner Jelly's cooperation, but once I acquainted him with my favorite knife Pokey, he shut up quick and didn't put up any more fuss about the outfit, nor the penis that was placed in his mouth. Of course, I'd had to threaten that if he remained stubborn, I would personally hunt down each and every gay man who tended toward violence that resided in Gotham and had no problem with the issue of running a rape chain straight up Mr. Romaro's...well, you know.
He had tearfully submitted to me then, the thought of his chubby backside being raided gleefully by the rapists in town subduing any ideas that he was getting out of this deal on the winning side. Once I had taken several damaging photographs, I had bashed him in the back of the head, knocking him out cold, and had sent my partner in crime on his merry way, five hundred dollars richer. A panicky message was then sent to Mr. Rizzuto, with directions to Rough Riders, and a plea for him to hurry, because his good friend Jelly was in trouble.
It wasn't an easy job, positioning the tubbo outside the dumpsters of the club, the uncomplimentary photos clutched tightly in his pudgy hand. I was sure that my back would ache for days, maybe even weeks from dragging his bloated carcass around the side of the club, and I was pretty damn sure that he had managed to ruin my appetite for dinner that night...the bastard.
I finished my task just in the nick of time, and was barely able to hide myself before the cavalry arrived, led by Anthony Rizzuto, who had brought along an entourage of six strapping mobsters. There was a good deal of confusion as the wise guys tried to assess whether the sight that was damaging their retinas was real, but all was clear to them, crystal-clear, as a matter of fact, when Rizzuto stepped forward and pulled the Polaroid shots from Jelly Belly's fat fingers. He stared for a moment, his disgust plain on his face, and then he let out an outraged roar that nourished my need for vengeance, and I knew that my work there was done. I had taken a pound of flesh from Tony this evening, severing his ties to and his friendship with, the unfortunate Mr. Romaro.
I didn't stick around to witness the fruits of my labor, the cries of indignation and accusations of betrayal were thick in the air, along with the vicious blows landing on the now conscious Jelly's body. That paired with the exclamations of innocence from Mr. Romaro affirmed that I had delivered a crucial blow to Rizzuto's cozy existence, and I was eager to return home to my Dainty.
It had been a long time, or so it seemed, since I had allowed myself to act in this fashion, behavior that Violet had never witnessed firsthand, and if I had any say in the matter, she would never see me this way. I had detached myself as much as I could from the evening's activities, not wanting to be marked by them, but I felt the repercussions despite my precautions. Rizzuto had called my vengeance upon himself when he messed with my girl, although I hadn't known her at the time, and before I was through with him he would feel the magnitude of his sins as the things that he depended on, the things that he cherished, slipped away from him, or were completely destroyed.
The house was asleep when I got home, and I entered quietly, hoping that Violet was sleeping as well. There were delectable aromas still redolent in the air, remnants of the meal that I had missed that evening. I saw that Dainty had left a note on the counter, informing me that she had left a plate of roasted chicken and potatoes warming for me in the oven, and that I should help myself to some chocolate cake as well, but my stomach wasn't up for any food, even the scrumptious fare prepared by my sweet girl. I turned off the oven, leaving the foil covered platter inside, and headed for the bathroom to shower and wash all traces of my alter ego away.
It had seemed both strange and comfortingly familiar to paint my face, away from Violet's notice, of course. The white and black and red appearing as long-lost friends, caressing my face while both masking and enhancing the mutilations that had been carved into my flesh. I don't know why I had ceased my application of war paint in my time with Dainty...I suppose that I had wanted her to concentrate her love on me, Jack, and forget that the Joker still resided within me. I didn't want her to know that in spite of my best efforts, that spirit still longed for chaos, still yearned for anarchy...thoughts that threatened to consume me and drive me mad...heh, heh. Some would say that there was no driving to be done, that I had arrived in and taken up official residence as the mayor of Crazy Town long ago, but to make that claim personally would be to deny my culpability in my actions. I could be described as being many things that were shameful, but one thing that I tried not to be was a liar, and so I have to admit to you that everything that I have done, and all that I will ever do, are with a clear mind that my actions are what most people would call iniquitous.
With that in mind, I cleansed and rinsed away the physical evidence of what I had done that night. I toweled off and groomed myself quickly, eager to snuggle in bed with my Dainty, hoping that she could calm that anger that had hurried the flow of my blood that evening, and that her presence could warm the chill that had encased my soul as I had done what I thought must be done as retribution for the crimes against my sweet girl.
I stood in the doorway of our bedroom, drinking her in with eyes that were tired, marveling at the light that had been offered to me so easily, that I really and truly didn't deserve. I knew that I wasn't worthy of her, but I would feel an honest sense of pity for anyone who would try to take her from me, because they would intimately be acquainted with misery and pain before I finished them. She slept the sleep of one who was truly at peace, a being filled with love and hope despite the empty life her family had bestowed upon her. She was my reason for living now, she was the center...the heart...of me, and the Joker was just going to have to accept that he wasn't my top priority anymore.
She had fallen asleep on the right side of the bed, turned so that her knees were pointed toward the center of the bed; effectively ruining any chances that I might have hoped existed that I could slide in behind her, cuddling her up tight in my arms. I was disappointed to have been denied that pleasure, but what else had I expected her to do, wait for my return after I had been gone since four o'clock that afternoon, eager to drape herself in whatever way would be agreeable to me? I had, and she had as well, enjoyed the last few days of new intimacy, although she was still exasperated by my unyielding refusal to allow her to pleasure me. I had tried to assure her that my hand had been of service to me countless times throughout my life, and would suffice for the time being, but she had not looked reassured, or satisfied with that response.
I slid beneath the purple silk sheets...shamelessly extravagant, I know...groaning softly as the bouquet of her scent rose up to meet me, the feminine fragrance of her that clung to everything. It had the usual effect on me, but I stifled my arousal, concentrating on calming myself enough so that maybe I could catch a few winks in a couple of hours or so. I turned on my side, away from my Dainty, staring at the wall, taking deep breaths to savor the rousing bouquet wafting from the sheets, punishing myself in an attempt to learn patience, though my mind was having none of it and went into dream mode instead. I had just about formulated a fantasy in my head, Violet bedecked in the tiniest of bikinis, moaning as I rubbed sun block onto her back, her fingertips digging into the terrycloth of the towel beneath her as she writhed sensuously against my ever-growing erection, when suddenly I felt her slide up behind me, her arm encircling me as she cuddled me close.
Her body was warm against my bare back, the sleepy kind of warmth of one who had just awakened. She was wearing a cute black nightie and panty set, sexy, but not overtly so, but then, she could make burlap look sexy, if you asked me. I groaned again as I felt her nipples harden through the satin covering her breasts, and a shiver raced through me from head to toe as I felt her nose nuzzle the middle of my back, her lips questing forth to kiss me softly, her breath warm on my skin.
"Welcome home sweetie," she whispered softly, her hand trekking downward to brazenly explore me through my cotton sleep pants. "I've been awful lonesome without you."
Violet's POV
He was a mystery to me, an enigmatic man who tended to disappear for hours at a time. I often wanted to question where it was that he vanished to, what was it that drew him away from me for hours at a time, but I always hesitated to ask him his business, not wanting to appear too needy or clingy.
The first time that he had spent hours away from me I had felt panicked, and my mind had raced uncontrollably as I watched and hoped for him to return. It bothered me that I had allowed myself to become so dependent on his presence, that I had grown used to him being there to brighten my day, that I wanted and needed to both love him and to be loved by him.
I tried to keep myself from allowing jealousy and suspicion to take root in my heart and in my mind, but I was new to this whole "being in love" thing, and I had to admit that I worried about him spending his time away from me in the company of other women, but I had found myself more and more reassured of his love and his devotion to only me these past few days, so jealousy has ceased to be such a problem for me.
I had kept his dinner warm for him this evening, never knowing whether his "errands" would keep him out for minutes or hours, and when he arrived home, I peeked at the bedside clock, taking note that nine hours had passed since he had left that afternoon. My mind raced as I tried to imagine what could have possibly happened that required his presence for such a long amount of time.
I was a master at playing possum, and I employed my best tactics when I heard him open the bedroom door. I didn't want him to know that although I had gone to bed at ten; worry had kept me awake, straining my ears to hear his key turning in the doorknob. We hadn't been sharing a bed for very long, but I found myself unable to sleep without him by my side.
I heard him showering, feigning sleep once more as he entered the bedroom, bringing along his smell of clean and of sandalwood. I had purposefully made it where he couldn't slide in behind me, which was how he liked to sleep, with me held tight in his arms. It was petty of me to deny him that, but I was nursing a little bit of hurt feelings, and knew that I had that one weapon that I could use against him. I didn't think at the time about the stupidity of my actions, ignoring the fact that I was hurting myself as much as I was hurting him.
I heard him groan as he slid under the covers, and I worried that he had either hurt himself in some fashion, or that someone had hurt him. I was all set to touch him, to see if he was in need of any assistance, but then I heard him breathing deeply, and I heard him murmur my name, and in that moment I realized what it was that was paining him, and I knew that he was definitely in need of a little comfort.
He had introduced me to seduction these past few days, throwing me headlong into the arousal, both the building and culmination of pleasure, and he had satisfied me fully every night...well, several times throughout the day, to be exact...but in all those times he had never removed any clothing, neither his nor mine, and he hadn't allowed me to return the favor to him at any time, insisting that his hand would suffice where his own needs were concerned. I had gone along with his wishes, despite the fact that I wanted and needed to see to his desires, but that was going to come to an end right now. Perhaps it was too soon to take things "all the way", but I swore to myself that the night before had been his last where he would turn to his own hand for comfort, while I was there, ready and willing, to take the matter in my own hands, so to speak.
I'm sure that it was quite a shock for him when I rolled up behind him and reached down to take hold of his manhood. His pants acted as a protective barrier, denying me the feel of his flesh against mine, but I didn't want to be too bold, knowing that he would need some time to adjust to the fact that I had my hands wrapped around his cock. Normally I would have been too shy to grab hold of him the way that I had, but the groan that escaped him as I had pressed my lips against the strength of his back muscles had emboldened me to act more aggressively.
He had already been flooded, engorged with his arousal, but I still managed to stir him even further, growing damp at the feel of him in my hand, both turned-on and intimidated by the weight and dimensions that I caressed lovingly. He then turned over quickly, making it necessary for me to remove my hand or risk injuring him, and my breath froze, my heart stopped and even time itself seemed to stand still as he hungrily took hold of my lips, kissing me in a way that bespoke of pent-up emotions.
His lips sought mine as a man dying of thirst would reach for water, his tongue forceful and commanding as it swooped into my mouth, tasting me as though it were the first time. It would seem that my boldness had bolstered him to a level of need that I hadn't ever seen in him, and I gasped with surprise into his mouth as his hand sought the bodice of my nightie, his hands rending the material as though it were something that offended him with its presence. My breasts were bared to him for the first time and he released my mouth, studying the newfound bounty of naked flesh intently. His hands rose to my chest once more, but there was a gentleness in his touch, a tender touch, feather light on my skin as he cupped first one breast and then the other.
His palms were deliciously calloused, a roughness against the soft satin of the skin that he stroked, causing my nipples to swell and ache. I shimmied helplessly on the bed's surface, thinking that my breasts had reached their height of awareness, but that thought fled when he bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth. I had barely adjusted to the idea of anyone touching my breast at all, and now I was shown how delightful it was to feel that warm wetness of his mouth, the silken caressing of his tongue, the gentle nips and scrapes of his teeth as he sucked the nubbin of hardened flesh.
I writhed beneath his ministrations, whimpering as the ache that beat between my legs intensified, wanting him to touch me there, to release me as he had so many times in the past few days, but his hand continued to cup the breast that wasn't being lavished with attention by his mouth. He released the first nipple, and took possession of the second, and I wondered if it was possible to find my peak from the feel of his mouth on my breasts. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensations flooding me, in the swirls of color that danced across the lids of my eyes, blues turning to reds as my lust continued to grow.
His hand that had been caressing my breast was sliding down, tickling my tummy, and I was a little self-conscious to have him touching me there. It was outrageously stupid to be concerned about my belly being too soft considering that he had his mouth on my boob, but I was worried about those extra couple of pounds that had centered themselves in my midsection.
If he did think that I was a tiny bit softer than I ought to be he kept those thoughts to himself, his hand traveling down and around the part of me that was aching for him to caress the silky skin of my inner thighs, rubbing gently for a few moments before raising to take hold of the front of my panties, the material ripped from me just as my nightie had been.
"Damn it Jack," I tried to hiss, but managed only an exasperated gasp. "That was a brand new set that you just ruined." It was stupid to be concerned about my wardrobe at a time like this, especially since my nethers were now completely on display, but I had been rather fond of that particular set, thinking that they looked sexy on my body.
He raised his head to look at me, making me moan as the cool air hit my abandoned nipple. "They were in my way," he explained, running his finger lightly along the swollen contours of my most intimate flesh, causing me to momentarily lose the ability to breathe, let alone to think or speak. He continued to watch me hungrily; his eyes alight with the same passion that was crashing through my body, tearing down any walls that might have remained, casting away any doubt that may have caused me to second-guess whether he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
His finger stroked through the dampness that had escaped me, delving a little deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to spill forth from me. "Oh no you don't," Jack whispered, running his finger upward to caress the bundle of nerves that had assisted in each pleasuring that he had brought me before this night, but had never received his direct attention before that moment. That touch brought out the whimper, there was no way that I could avoid it, and Jack smiled as I vocalized my need, and my pleasure, rewarding me with several more strokes as his middle finger sought my entrance, teasing and testing the tightness and the resiliency of the delicate half-moon membrane that safeguarded my innocence.
I had been completely inexperienced where intimacy between a man and a woman were concerned, but I was knowledgeable about the construction of my body, at least I thought so, and I stiffened for just a moment, thinking that he intended to plunder through my maidenhead, but then I realized that he would never do something like that, and I made myself relax and concentrate on this new, thrilling experience.
His touch on my straining bundle of pleasure became more insistent, heightening my arousal even farther, and I waited for him to place a finger inside me, but he seemed content with a light exploration of the doorway, concentrating his direct attention on the tiny nubbin that had nearly reached the limit of its endurance.
"Please Jack," I begged, treading the verge of release, pleading with him to have mercy on me and push me fully over the edge. He bent his head to take hold of my nipple, the pull of his mouth harmonizing with the stroke of his finger, and that's when it happened. He didn't just push me into the precipice, he picked me up and threw me, headlong into the void, and I loved every moment of it.
Intense pleasure, more forceful than I would have thought possible seized me and no amount of restraint on my part could stifle my cries of pleasure. How could it be possible, for the intensity that I was sure must be the absolute that was possible, had just been taken out by the orgasm coursing through me at that moment. If things continued to grow, to progress in this fashion, then I was sure to die when things culminated once we were joined.
He continued to stroke me, not content that I'd found fulfillment until tears streamed from my eyes and my voice was hoarse from screaming. He slowly withdrew from my body, and I felt a crimson flush of embarrassed pleasure course through me as he stuck his finger, which was covered with the nectar of both my lust and my climax, into his mouth. He didn't just taste my essence, he licked it from his finger like someone would lick off ice cream that had melted and run down onto their digit, and my embarrassment heightened as he raised the finger to his nose, drawing in the scent as though it were some sort of exotic perfume.
He smiled wickedly as he took notice of the flush that was covering me from head-to-toe, and then kissed me softly, drawing me up into the hold of his arms so that we could drift off to sleep, the same way that he did every night. I could see the proof of his own arousal, standing proudly beneath the cover of his pants, and I knew that he would wait for me to fall asleep, and then he would slip out to the bathroom, taking his lust in hand and fulfilling his needs himself, but I'd be damned if I was going to allow that any longer.
I reached my hands into the waistband of his pants and started to pull them down off of him. I was going to pleasure him, and I was going to see all of him while I did so. He tried to stop me, telling me that it wasn't necessary, but his heart wasn't in the argument.
"You have denied me the pleasure of repaying you in kind for the last time, sweetie," I said, resolutely, determined that I would have my way.
"Oh, alright," he answered, trying in vain to sound as though he were being forced to humor me. "I'm through trying to reason with you about this, my wanton minx."
I was definitely in foreign waters as I revealed Jack in all his glory, wondering how something could have swollen to that size and not be painful. I hesitantly placed my hand on him, marveling both at the softness of the skin and at the heated pulsing that was running beneath the surface. His eyes closed and he hissed between teeth that were clenched as I closed my fingers around him, running my hand up and down, gently stroking the length of him. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but he had grown even harder as I caressed him, and I realized he was growing closer to his own release.
I kept a steady rhythm, emboldened by the gasps and groans slipping from his lips, a litany of my name, of his love for me, and pleas that I wouldn't stop. I wanted to pleasure him fully, and I was also curious, and that led me to bend my head down, to gently touch him with my lips, and a strangled whimper erupted from him as he plummeted into his own precipice. He tried to pull away from me as burst after burst of release exploded from him, but I took my cue from what he'd done earlier, and savored him, my hand continuing to massage him until he was completely spent.
I cuddled beside him, caressing his trembling body as he calmed, and he placed a hand against my face, raising me to meet his gaze. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he whispered, his voice raw from the force of his orgasm. "Please tell me that you know that I'd do anything for you."
I smiled, and kissed him gently. "If it's half as much as I love you, then I've got a pretty good idea," I answered. "And I know that you'd do anything for me, just like I'd do anything for you."
I had seen him happy many times since we'd met, but this was the most content that I'd ever seen him, and I promised myself that I'd do whatever I could every day to keep that look on his face, where it belonged.