27. Chapter 27 #2
I didn't think. I just leaned down, and our lips clashed together.
It was a collision. It was desperate, violent, and fueled by a dark, mutual madness.
The Jester met my fury with an equal, starving intensity, his hands flying up to grip my hair, pulling me impossibly closer against the iron bars.
Our teeth clashed painfully, the metallic taste of a split lip bleeding into the kiss, but neither of us cared.
He groaned into my mouth, pulling at my hair, his tongue tangling with mine in a heated, bruising rhythm that felt less like a romantic embrace and more like two predators trying to consume one another.
I was drowning in him, losing my grip on the pacifist I claimed to be, completely consumed by the beautiful, terrifying ruin of the Jester.
I couldn't let him think. I couldn't let myself think. Every word out of his mouth was a scalpel cutting straight to the darkest corners of my soul, and the only way to stop the bleeding was to lose myself in his chaos.
"Shut up," I whispered under my breath, the words breaking against his lips as I crashed back into him. "Just... shut up."
The Jester let out a muffled, breathless laugh against my mouth, but he didn't argue.
His hands gripped my waist, his nails digging into my skin through my uniform as our lips slid together again in a bruising, desperate rhythm.
The taste of salt and copper was sharp on my tongue, but it only fueled the frantic fire burning in my chest.
Driven by a sudden, feral need to completely dominate the noise in the room, my hand left his shoulder and slid down the front of his rough prison jumpsuit.
I fumbled for a split second before my fingers found the knotted drawstring of his pants, tugging it loose.
I pushed my hand past the coarse fabric, sinking beneath the waistband.
The moment my skin brushed against his length, a shockwave of heat rolled up my arm.
He was already rock hard, burning hot, and completely unraveled by the violence of the moment.
But I didn't let him finish it.
I leaned in and took him into my mouth, the sheer thickness and size of him stretching me completely.
I hollowed my cheeks, swirling my tongue directly over the crown of his length, my fingers digging hard into the corded muscle of his thigh for leverage as I slid down, taking him deep into the heat of my throat.
I found a brutal, steady rhythm, desperate to friction away the pain, the injustice, and the suffocating morality that had trapped me my entire life.
I wanted to break him.
I needed to shut him up, to reduce all his terrifying philosophy to nothing but breathless, wordless noise.
Above me, a low, shattered gasp broke from his lips. The Jester watched from above, his gaze glassy and completely unmoored, trapped between agony and absolute ecstasy.
For once, he was completely and utterly speechless.
By me.
The thought alone was euphoric—to know that I could be the one to drive a man who ruled with words to this breathless, desperate edge.
"F-fuck, sweetheart," he choked out, his hand trembling as it came down to tangle in my hair, his fingers gripping the strands not to pull away, but to hold me there.
His voice was a wrecked, gravelly whisper, stripped of all its clever games.
"Look at you... so perfect for me. Fucking beautiful. Look how much of me you can take."
He let out a ragged breath, his hips giving a involuntary twitch upward, burying himself deeper against my tongue.
"That’s it, doll. Good girl. Suck it just like that."
But the praise quickly morphed into something darker, driven by a sudden, feral desperation. The loose grip in my hair tightened into a firm, commanding fist. The gentle, reverent stillness snapped as the heat overtook him entirely.
He growled, his hips tilting as he took control of the rhythm.
He began to thrust up into my mouth, a rough, demanding pace that had my eyes watering.
He was relentless, pushing deep against the back of my throat, his breath coming in harsh, jagged pants that echoed in the small space between us.
The iron bars rattled behind him with every heavy, unyielding drive of his hips.
It was dominant, almost bruising, a stark reminder of the wild creature beneath the clever facade. He held my head steady, forcing me to take every single inch of him, pinning me to his pleasure.
"Right there... don't stop, and I want you to swallow every last drop when I cum in your mouth," he hissed through clenched teeth, his body going rigid as he hit his limit.
His hips locked forward, burying himself to the absolute root in my mouth as his climax tore through him.
He groaned loudly, a deep, guttural sound of pure defeat, as he filled my mouth with his thick, hot release.
As I swallowed every last drop, I finally pulled back just an inch so I could look at him.
My breath hitched.
The Jester—the unhinged, untouchable monster who mocked the world and laughed at tragedy—was completely undone in my grasp.
His head was thrown back, his throat exposed and flushed.
His lips were swollen, parted as he gasped for air, and when his eyelids fluttered open, his pupils were so entirely blown out that the color of his eyes had vanished into a dark, bottomless void.
He was trembling, utterly at my mercy, shattered by a pleasure so intense it looked like pain.
A profound, terrifying realization bloomed in my chest as I watched his chest heave.
I wasn't just doing this to silence him.
I was drinking in the vision of his ruin.
I loved seeing him like this.
I loved knowing that I was the one who had cracked him open, that my hands had turned his chaotic mind into pure, trembling surrender. A dark, addictive thrill spiked through my veins, obliterating the last remnants of the woman I used to be.
I didn't want to pull away.
I couldn't get enough of him.
As he slowly came back to himself, I licked my lips, relishing the warmth of his release and realized with a sick, exhilarating certainty that I would let him burn the whole world down if it meant keeping this version of him all to myself.