Alrighty, here's another chapter.


Title: Lemon Wedge   (tee he he)
Word Count: 3,771
Genre: drama/angst ?
Pairing: Scarecrow/Hatter (Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch)
Rating: NC-17
Summery: Jonathan is feeling a little frisky.
Warnings: Oh yes.  There be warnings.  Sexual situations, graphic content, uh... this is pretty much just smut.  Yeah.  But it's tasteful!
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Author's note: This one is pretty smutty in my opinion, though it's not completely pointless.  I just thought I'd give you guys something nice after that last one, it was pretty heavy.  And I hope everyone gets the gag title?  Leeeeemon?  Teeheehee

Happy Halloween, all.  This ones your treat.  ;D

Lemon Wedge

          Jervis panted against the mattress, faced down and struggling for breath as he coiled back into the man penetrating him.  Jonathan let a licentious growl seep from his lips and slowed his pace.  He bent down and licked Tetch’s shoulder as he held the man’s wrists tight in strong authority, rough nails digging into delicate flesh, coaxing a hoarse moan from his blushing counterpart.  His warm tongue trailed a liquid streak down Jervis’s shoulder, swirled around his deltoid muscle, then slithered back up to bite the nape of the man’s neck.  Jonathan hissed in satisfaction as Jervis let out a load moan.

“… do you like it… huh?... when I fuck you?...” Crane demanded in a muted tone, attempting to veil his absolute lust for the shuddering man acting provocatively submissive beneath him.

“Ahhh… oh, yes... yes… I love it when … you fuck me… Jonathan…” Tetch moaned, reminiscent of a whore working a patron in a brothel.

“And… mmmm… you… fear me?...” Crane leered, pushing his cock deeper and prompting a strangled gasp from Tetch.

“Ahh, yes… god, yes… you terrify me… ahhh… Master of fear…” Jervis panted, rocking against Jonathan’s hard erection and grasping the mattress cover, completely malleable against his lover’s dominance.

“Ahh…mmm… I wanna’ do everything to you…” Crane whispered in a husky tone, grabbing Tetch’s left thigh and pushing it up to spread the man’s legs open further, increasing his access. 

“AHhh... ah…  Jonathan… Jonathan...”

“Jonathan?”

          Jonathan jerked at the sudden intrusion to his private thoughts, eyes springing open and head jolting forward as he lounged about on the mattress.  He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling in surprise, and turned rigidly to acknowledge the startling summons.  Jervis stood next to the kitchen table, both hands placed on the back of his chair in quiet pause.  He gave Crane a puzzled look, slight impatience saturating his facial features and stiff body language suggesting he was quite irritable, though his voice projected calm composure.  He crooked a hand out to the food on the table and gave Crane another questioning stare, encouraging the man to sit with a slight flick of the wrist.  Dinner was served. 

          Jonathan paused in thought, recalling the events two days earlier.  He had offered nothing after Tetch’s emotional breakdown, trying his damnedest to shut the ordeal out of his consciousness.  He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t discern if the subject was taboo, and if it wasn’t, didn’t know how to approach it.  Considering Jervis’s reaction he thought it best to keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself.  But Jervis had been quite moody and acting stranger than usual.  He was present in body but absent in emotional conduct, oddly disinclined to exhibit any physical desires towards Crane, which made Jonathan’s carnal impulses seem terribly hedonistic and self-centered.  Crane wasn’t the man to start a wanton, sexual endeavor anyhow.  Besides, it was the blonde’s responsibility to initiate any sort of fleshy contact between them, absurdly yet brilliantly capable of sparking unwelcome arousal.  But they had had no physical contact whatsoever, save Jonathan’s tight embrace that somber night.   Jonathan couldn’t believe it; forty-eight hours loafing about, helping Tetch clear the table, and obtaining more petty supplies for their new quarters; but all this was purely trivial in comparison to how badly he needed to fuck. 
 He was content to sit and read at first, wearily watching Jervis eat, change, and bake over the frame of his book, but this strange new urge provoked him like nothing he had ever experienced before.  This urge was far more difficult to disregard then he wished to admit.  He wanted sex badly, and didn’t know how to cause the act. 

“What were you thinking of, my dear?” Jervis inquired quizzically, interrupting Crane’s thoughts once again. 

“Huh? Oh… n-nothing.  Not a thing.” he replied, a touch insecure about the question.

“Oh …” Tetch said, brushing the stray flicks of pale hair out of his eyes, his stance looking rather weak from afar.

Crane stood from the mattress and walked towards Jervis, the blonde’s fatigued features emerging more visibly with every step he took.  He sat in his usual seat across from Jervis and coughed loudly; hiding his concern and straightening his back to peer down at the plate in fixed interest.  It was covered in some sort of rice with chopped tomatoes and slathered in garlic and oregano, which caused an appetizing aroma to permeate the space between the two men.

“What is this?” Jonathan asked curiously, poking the rice carefully with his fork.

“It’s Spanish rice.  You can make it from a box.” Jervis answered simply, pointing to the torn container on the countertop.

“Oh… no fancy stuff tonight, eh?” Crane chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I’m tired.” Tetch replied, heaving a loud sigh. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes and shook his head, spearing the pile of rice with his fork diligently.  The blonde was getting to him.  He chewed softly, observing as Jervis picked at his plate like a fussy child, chin propped up by a small hand and mouth cast in a stale frown.  This behavior was very unlike Jervis.  He was normally hyper-active and more often than not bordering on the typical manic, but he had been quite the opposite the past few days and it bothered Jonathan to no end.  Jonathan wasn’t accustomed to this depressed version of his blithe companion.  Though he was loath to admit it, he didn’t want Jervis to recognize he detested seeing him unhappy, even for a brief moment, lest he be the cause, of course.  Then it was appropriate.  But if he were being truly honest, he would confess he actually liked the man, almost enjoyed his company and his cooking… so long as he was receiving some ulterior satisfaction in return.  He took another bite and stared intently at Tetch, as if his gaze would trigger the blonde man into glancing up. 

“Listen… Tet-…I mean Jervis.” He corrected, placing his fork down to articulate, “You seem… down.”

Jervis fastened his eyes to his plate and replied limply, “Oh, it’s nothing, dear.  Nothing at all.  I’m just tired.  The past few nights… though they were comforting…,” he shot Jonathan a brief smile, “have not graced me with ample sleep.”

Jonathan scowled, unwilling to accept Tetch’s paltry excuse, and snatched up his fork once again.  He took another bite and swallowed, irritated at Jervis’s attempt to disguise his bizarre disposition.

“Yeah?” Crane asked, chomping away absently, “Well, why the fuck not?  Do I snore or something?”

“No, no.  It’s not that, Jonathan.” Jervis assured quickly, peeking up at his partner and hinting a genuine smile.

“Then what the hell is wrong?” Crane repeated, unconsciously chewing another massive bite with his mouth open.

Tetch sighed, eyes focused down once again, and withdrew from the brief conversation.  Jonathan arched a brow at the lack of response and took a gulp of tea from the mug beside his plate.  It was humorous how he had grown so accustomed to tea, the brewed liquid becoming a continual part of his diet within the last few weeks, but it signified something more: The blonde was getting to him.  He shook his head for the second time that day.
 Despite this hopeless realization, he spotted Jervis abandon his fork and raise a hand toward the side of his neck, eyes slipping shut in pained relief as he rubbed the stiff muscle adamantly.  He rotated his head from side to side, a sharp crack erupting as a joint popped, and sighed again in partial comfort.

Jonathan’s eyes fixed on the unintentionally inviting display, watchful as Jervis’s remaining hand crept up to join the other in symmetrical unity, both pressing in circular movements as the man’s head lolled back and forth.  Jonathan’s lips parted, aroused at the sensual sight. 

“Back hurt?” he asked in a pseudo sympathetic tone.

“Oh, yes… Yes, I suppose from stress, or perhaps that old flimsy mattress, though don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful it’s there.” Tetch replied openly.

“Well… you, uh… you want me to, uh, give you a massage?” Jonathan proposed in a seemingly generous tone, though a far more persistent need consumed his mind.

“…really?” Jervis asked in cautious disbelief, sitting up straight and eyeing Crane in full attention, “… you don’t mind?”

Jonathan slouched back, picking his teeth with a jagged nail, and shook his head, motioning towards the bed with the other hand.  Jervis smiled gratefully and blew Jonathan a charming kiss from across the table.

“Oh, Jonathan, how very kind you are.  Thank you, love.” Jervis praised as he continued to marvel at Jonathan lovingly.

“Yeah, yeah.  Get on the bed.” Crane said with impatience, tongue prodding the food still stuck between his teeth.

Jervis hopped from his seat and scurried to the mattress, spreading out the fluffy cover Crane had provided and nestling down onto his stomach. 

Jonathan stood tall and ordered, “No, take off your shirt, it’ll be easier.”

So Jervis complied, shedding his lounge-around tee as he arched his back, navy-blue cotton fluttering to the floor in a heap.  He stretched out again, clad only in his grey, flannel pants, and took in a deep breath, nuzzling the cover as he situated himself into a cozy position.  Jonathan gulped at the site of bare skin, a texture he had been surprisingly anxious to feel, and sauntered to where Tetch lay resting.  He pushed up his sleeves and sat down, sucking his bottom lip in self-restraint as he imagined the blonde man panting feverishly against the mattress.  He jut out his jaw and cracked his knuckles, placing elongated fingers onto Jervis’s pliable flesh.  He began by rubbing Tetch’s shoulders, listening acutely to each soft sigh of praise respired by the man’s lungs and tried desperately to abstain from having an erection.  His hands past Tetch’s shoulders and proceeded down his spinal column, pressing sharp thumbs into the supple tissue and rotating little circles up each sides of the vertebrae.  He slid his palms over Jervis’s neck and heard the man mutter a faint approval.

“Mmmm… oh, Jonathan… that feels so good…” he murmured, nudging his cheek on the bed cover as he loosened up under Jonathan’s skilled fingers.

Jonathan bit his lip harder and aimed his view at the ceiling, ignoring the dire urge to rip Tetch’s flimsy pants off and force himself inside that splendid warmth.  He felt his penis grow increasingly solid, and ached for a chance to relieve the pressure welling up in his testicles as he loomed over Tetch’s elfin frame.  He wanted Jervis, but couldn’t tolerate the fact that his need governed his actions, a concept far too base and sordid for him to accept.  Jervis made another contented sound as Jonathan’s hands poised over the small of his back.  That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore; a dark entity began to swamp his conscious mind as his hands clenched into fists of uncontrolled desire.  He finally tore his eyes away from the ceiling and peered down at Tetch’s half naked form, intent on taking him the instant he could unzip his pants, but instead just blinked stupidly.  Jervis, during the calming massage, had fallen dead asleep.

Crane looked stunned and threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat, silently cursing his luck.  He crossed his arms and scowled at Tetch’s sleeping form, flabbergasted at the irony of the situation.  Of course, the moment he’s actually horny without provocation, Tetch falls flat in slumber, leaving Jonathan to wait eagerly with a rock-hard erection as the man snoozed all peaceful like in dreamland. 

Jonathan pouted his lips in frustration and stepped back to his chair, his cock poking through his pants and tenting the cloth as he sat down abjectly.  He breathed a conquered sigh and slumped in his seat, crossing his arms again while watching Tetch from out the corner of his eye.  He glanced to his left, then glanced to his right, head unmoving and arms remaining bent in a bad-tempered shrug.  Hoisting his head forward, he gazed out to peer at Tetch’s visage, observing the man’s eyes secured shut and face relaxed in dormancy.  He glanced downward at his throbbing crotch, clothed in simple black slacks and begging for attention.  He cringed and slowly opened his fly, pulling out his erection while gazing up at Jervis with a lust filled expression. 

With a tight grip and nimble fingers, he pushed down his length, breath caught in his throat at the amazingly stimulating sensation darting up into his pelvis.  He squeezed confidently, tugging up then pushing down again, creating a shallow rhythm as he viewed Jervis from afar, the blonde’s skin looking delectable in the glowing lamp light as he mumbled sweetly in his sleep.  Letting his eyelids slip shut, Jonathan cupped his taut balls, massaging the scrotum earnestly with a pointed thumb.  He panted and increased his speed, bucking forward slightly and scratching a clawed fingernail over his perineum.  He gasped noiselessly, mouth agape and head tilted as he jerked off in suppressed silence, detaching himself from the world outside his feral fantasies.  He envisioned himself pressed inside Jervis, bodies hot and twisting as he fucked the blonde man blind.  Feeling a harsh orgasm commence, he slowed the friction between his palm and penis, encircling the hilt of his cock between a forefinger and thumb to prolong the approaching climax, a simple trick he used to apply back when he masturbated on a regular basis.  It felt like he was going to explode, but he liked to deny himself that conclusive gratification until he was completely satisfied.  His head rolled forward, eye’s peeping open to permit himself one final gaze at Tetch before ejaculating. 

He froze.

Tetch’s blue eyes were fixed open, wide and unwavering as he witnessed Jonathan beating off in the seat perpendicular to the bed.  Jonathan’s mouth dropped in horror as he locked eyes with the object of his fantasies, blushing red hot and slouching over his exposed genitals, losing what little self-confidence he had.  He was about to shove himself away, about to sprint out the door in distressed embarrassment, but found his eyes trailing down Jervis’s arm to behold a small hand wrapped around a stiff penis.  Jonathan was even more stunned, not knowing whether to continue jerking himself off or to cease the exploit altogether and act as though it never happened.  He thought the latter a bit more difficult than the former, seeing as how he had been masturbating for the last ten minutes and was craving for release, not to mention Jervis had been watching quite methodically.  Regardless, he couldn’t move a muscle, too in shock to resume his self-indulgent presentation.

Jervis gave him a pouty, half lidded look as he began to work his own erection, eyeing the taller man up and down audaciously.  Jonathan sucked his lip and hunched up his shoulders in shy unease, timid fingers still lingering on his shrunken erection.  He couldn’t take the embarrassment and cast his head down, hiding his face and body away from Tetch’s brazen eyes.

Jervis’s brows creased together and he made a clicking noise with his tongue, striving to get Crane’s attention.  Jonathan looked up; face still burning in vivid shame as he met with Tetch’s stare, his discouraged appearance quite obvious as he remained frozen.  Tetch shook his head slowly, lifting himself up off the mattress and shedding the rest of his apparel.  He ran delicate hands over his torso and slid them up past his neck to hold the back of his head, puffing up yellow wisps of downy hair as he did so.  He gave Crane another sultry look, and let a hand fall to his erection, grasping it tightly and pressing down the length in one swift motion.  Jonathan’s mouth was still hung open in astonishment, but nevertheless was growing hard as he observed the lascivious performance.  He righted himself, confidence and penis alike rising, and sustained where he left off. 

He watched in delight as Jervis shamelessly moaned, jerking himself off excitedly for his attentive spectator, as well as any modesty he might have retained flying out the window.  Jonathan felt another climax begin and shut his eyes, intent on savoring every miniscule tingle. 

“Nuhh!… J- Jonathan!” Tetch cried out, lying on his back and spreading his legs apart temptingly for Crane to view, blatantly welcoming the man’s body to mesh intimately with his. 

Jonathan panted and gripped his chair, losing all restraint at the offer to finish himself inside his companion. He ground his teeth, a larger dominance within his mind whirling up to fight him for control, reigning victorious over his retreating persona.  He was on Jervis in less than five seconds, pants bunched up around his thighs as he spat on his hand and coated his penis frenetically.

Positioning himself, he mentioned in a hurried voice, “This isn’t going to be long.”

“I don’t care,” Jervis replied just as quickly, “Just put it in me now.”

Jonathan obeyed without a second thought, penetrating Jervis as the man yelled in discomfort, dazed and excited all at once.  Jonathan inhaled a sharp breath, grinding himself further and running a hand threw Jervis’s fine hair.  He gripped it tightly as he felt himself let go only half way inside.   He came with an intensity he had only felt twice in his life, riding out the white surge as his body convulsed involuntarily and breath trembling as he fell atop Jervis in a one shaking mass.  He groaned as if in pain, unable to form a coherent thought as Jervis embraced his torso and kissed his twitching shoulder affectionately.  They waited a few more moments, basking in the aftermath of their connection as Tetch pecked away at Jonathan’s neck and shoulder.  Jervis let out a sigh and brushed Crane’s hair away from his tepid forehead, feeling fulfilled though he had not met the height of his own climax.

“… Jonathan… dearest… I… well, I… I adore you.” Tetch stated, fumbling for the right words and kissing Crane on the forehead tenderly.

“Mmmm.” Crane replied, almost indignant.

“I… I feel so happy when-,” Jervis started, but was quieted when Crane rolled off him to huddle up on his side.

Jervis shut his mouth, jaw quivering in offense at the abrupt action, knowing the man was obviously ignoring him.  He felt incredibly emotional, though he expected Crane’s standoffish attitude towards him.  Still, he could have cried, but kept a stiff lip as he calmed himself internally, aware and accepting of the inevitable fact that his lover was a complete ass. 

He was about to hoist himself up and find a clean rag when long arms entangled around his torso, pulling him close in a strong embrace.  He smiled peacefully, ugly thoughts melting away as Jonathan cuddled up against him, cheek rubbing his upper chest fondly.  He really was going to cry, unable to handle the gushing flood of emotions he often bottled up inside, hidden deep where no one else could find them.  He peeked down at Crane’s short hair that was protruding out in all different directions, prickled and untamed like its owner’s personality, and arched his neck forward.  He breathed deeply and inhaled the dusty scent of his companion, smelling a unique, recognizable fragrance of attic-worn books mixed with a trace of something mildly sweet, perhaps a past shampoo or hairspray.  He detected something else, though, and couldn’t put his finger on it.  He inhaled again, the distinctive bouquet filling his nostrils once more, and grinned passionately as he placed the peculiar aroma.

 It was the scent of straw.  Dry and unforgiving, like the sweltering sun cast over a starched corn field.     

Jervis curved his hand along Jonathan’s jaw, and whispered amorously, “I love you, my frightful scarecrow.”

He smiled as he held the man‘s resting head in his arms, more euphoric than he had felt in years.  He rubbed the man’s back, black-cotton shirt smooth beneath the pads of his fingers, and hummed softly to himself, the melodious song crafting a blanket of harmony over them as they lay together, locked in each other’s arms.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Jonathan awoke to the tea kettle whistling, the high-pitched noise piercing the silence from which he came.  He stretched out, arms and legs exceeding off the mattress, and scratched his stomach languidly.  He arched back and felt around for the warmth that had been present when he had fallen asleep, but his arms felt touched nothing but the fluffy cover.  He opened his eyes with an arched brow, and sat up as he realized he was alone. 

“Jer-…” he began, apprehension heavy in his voice, but he looked over and was graced with Tetch’s large smile.

Comforted by the sight of his cohort, Jonathan laid back down, hands enfolding over his grumbling stomach as he stared up at the ceiling in thought.  Maybe he could re-heat the rice and have that as a late night snack, or ask Jervis to make him something on the sweet side, along with a hot cup of chamomile tea to put him back to sleep.  Hopefully they had a lemon wedge.  The sides of his mouth tugged upward, implying the ghost of a smile as he considered how lazy he was when Tetch was near. 

Jervis was busying himself with the tea kettle, little body clothed only in his navy-blue shirt with a round bottom exposed under the edges of the seams.  Jonathan watched as the man poured the water into two awaiting mugs, humming to himself happily as he stirred in the sugar.  He poured a dash of cream in one for himself but left the other untouched.  Jonathan didn’t like cream in his tea, especially in chamomile.  Maybe in black tea, once in a blue moon, but he often enjoyed it with just sugar and if they had any, a lemon wedge.  Jervis popped open the refrigerator they had managed to fix, the beat up contraption finally being able to chill the little groceries that needed cooling, and fetched a lemon from out the side pocket attached to the door.  He rolled it once, reminding Jonathan of some sort of master chef, like the famous ones on television, and cut it in two with a serrated knife.  He sliced a wedge and dropped it in Crane’s tea.  Jonathan smiled, a tiny pinch of gratitude nudging the heart that beat rhythmically in his chest.  The blonde was getting to him.  He shook his head for the third time that day.