It was an hour past midnight, and your bedroom was illuminated only by the moonlight outside your window. You took a deep breath, your fingers clutching the sheets – rough and cold against your skin. Your eyes were heavy and your whole body ached because you longed to see him. If you were to sleep, to turn yourself over to the merciless hand of dreams, he would come, that ginger who forever left an impression on you ever since that one faithful day.

He started invading your dreams when you saw him in person once with the Maniax. He made eye contact with you before he made his way to the police department, and you never forgot the grin he wore when your eyes met, and then after a long, fleeting moment he flashed a wink your way before he skipped inside the building. It was enticing, in every sense of the word. You had been trying to fight the attraction, reminding yourself endlessly that he was not a good person, and that it was best to keep your distance, but you just couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about him even days later.

You swallowed down a lump in your throat and stared at the empty ceiling, trying with all your might to think of something, anything, other than him.

And as always, you failed.

He danced through your dreams like a demon, his skin as white as a moonbeam and eyes like black fire. It was not the wanted man who murdered innocent civilians whom you saw while caught in the cage of dreams, but the man of sin. A rose with black petals spattered with blood and thorns that cut like knives. He came to you every time you closed your eyes, his wicked grin taunting you, mocking you, even as he placed his hands upon your flesh and brought his mouth down to yours.

In your dreams, he burned. His skin was like fire, searing you when you reached out to touch him. And oh, he touched you. You welcomed him with open arms, even as he burned, his hair a curtain of auburn silk against your skin. You loved feeling him writhe atop of you and watching, mesmerized, as his eyes closed and his lips parted in ecstasy. He was beautiful. Perfect. His body was a temple of pleasure and passion, and you wanted to explore every part of it.

He tormented you. His nails, scratched fervent patterns on your body, his lips breathed prayers against your burning skin. He pleasured you with his hands, his mouth, his body. He was your ultimate sin and you held him to you like a lover. You damned yourself in his arms each night, without a care in the world of what Gotham thought of him.

You expected tonight would be like any other night that you would give in to him again, like you always did. His face already haunted you in waking hours, that sneer of his forever painted in the darkest corners of your mind. You just couldn't help yourself. He was a tribute to immorality and decadence, a demon among men. And yet you wanted him. You wanted him in ways that pained you. The night was cold but your body sweated – if he came to you, it would be impossible for you to turn him away. You would let him be your damnation and your salvation.

In your moonlit room, you dreamed of him without sleeping. And even then he was flawless – a pale marble perfection. But his skin – you knew his skin must be cold, like his heart. If only there was a way to know for sure. If only he would have you.

You weren't aware of the effect you had on the ginger, though.

After days of thinking about that brief encounter with you on the streets, he was far more frustrated with his need for you than he ever thought he would be. You were easily the most interesting and captivating thing he had laid eyes on in a while. He felt a rush of wicked impulses whenever his mind drifted to the thought of you, his body was just screaming to take you, and as much as he tried to fight it so they would leave him alone – the impulses only came back stronger. At first, to ease his mind, he would come and visit you by the window sill, observing the way your chest rose and fell, eyes shut in your blissful slumber, and those soft lips of yours that were almost always slightly parted. But he was quick to grow bored of just watching you sleep, he wanted much more than that. He wanted to experience your body, uncover and feel every inch of it, he thought he deserved it for being so patient after all.

One night, you were shifting in your sleep when a breeze ghosted across your skin, making the uncovered areas raise in goosebumps, but just as quickly, you were back in deep slumber and completely unaware of Jerome's silhouette climbing through your window. Crouching beside the bed, he watched you sleep with a look of reverence in his eyes. His gaze traveled over your messy locks to your face with long eyelashes, your nose, and pouty lips, to your long throat, to the loose-fitted white t-shirt you wore. Carefully, he pulled back the sheet to see that your shirt had ridden up to reveal your torso which met a pair of low-waisted white cotton panties before he saw your smooth, soft legs, which were tucked ever so slightly at the knee so your feet – one of which wore a white sock and the other, bare – were hidden underneath the light blanket at the end of the bed, which he also moved out of the way.

When you didn't stir after he had you uncovered, he couldn't help but smirk. With that same quiet reverence he showed before, he slowly traced his finger over your exposed skin and delighted when you made the softest pleased noises and your body warmed to his touch. Moving it all along your skin, he marveled at how soft you were, softer than the finest silk and incomparable to anything else he had touched. He paused to pinch one of your nipples and rub the bead between his fingers until it stayed standing when he released. He did the same to the other nipple and you started to stir. With careful hands, he slid your t-shirt to reveal your breasts completely and licked his lips as he ran a knuckle down your breast bone, which made you suck in a breath. He felt his blood rushing south as he examined your soft, inviting skin, the delicious curves.

He bent down closer to take in your scent that smelled of a delicious mix of flowers and heat. The scent went straight to his head, and to his member, which was now pressing urgently against the front of his pants. He allowed himself to touch more, his fingers slowly skimming the curve of your breast before he cupped it in his hand, his lips curving into a devious smirk when he watched your nipple harden.

"Fuck, you have no fucking idea what you do to me," he breathed, whispering to himself.

You did not wake. He trailed his hand down your thigh, letting his curiosity venture with each touch to your body. You moved your hips, barely noticeable but he felt the leap. He glanced at you. You had your eyes closed, but even in the dim light of the room he could see your cheeks slightly flushed and you whimpered. He was curious how far he could get before you would wake up. He moved a bit, attentive not to wake you. Careful not to stir you too much, he slowly laid you on your back. You seemed still sound asleep once he was done and he praised himself silently.

Suddenly, you were trapped between his body and the back of the bed. He had to smile at the daring sight, and took a while to just admire you. You looked beautiful to him, like you always had, and he still found it difficult to believe how lucky he got, with you this vulnerable, and all for him. He leaned down to press a light kiss to your lips then continued lower, kissing down your neck and your exposed collarbone with feathery light touches.

He pressed himself against the warmth of your body as he sucked one hardened peak into his mouth while his other worked the other, gently rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Though you didn't wake, your body was very much aware of his touch and a low moan issued from your lips. His tongue laved the nipple, closing his eyes as he hummed against your warm skin.

Your soft breaths were now forming more into low whispers and his muffled name was the only thing he could understand. Grinning at his work, he pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck, sucking a light bruise in there. His right hand left your breast, and ghosted lower and lower until he could feel the soft fabric of your panties underneath his fingertips. He glanced at you shortly, checking if you were still asleep, before he snuck his hand inside with a bit of finesse.

"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful," he murmured, "was thinking about you all day..." he said around a purr.

He dragged two fingers through the crevice between your folds and you moaned helplessly, thrusting your hips into his hands, eliciting a quiet chuckle from him. He kissed his way back to your breast where he once again settled on flicking your nipple with his tongue, occasionally biting it gently. He guided his fingers across your folds a few times, before slipping his index finger inside you. You were so slick and tight for him so he was able to slide his index and middle finger in easily, curling them, while he brushed his thumb over your clit.

Your breath quickened a little, and you bucked your hips to meet his hand, still in your unconscious state. His hand was pressed firmly against you, causing even more friction. Color bloomed in your cheeks, and spread down your neckline and over your chest. Little moans now came with every breath.

"Jerome. Jerome. Jerome!" you moaned out, the last one a little louder than the others, and less muffled. He looked up at your face, his mouth leaving the sensitive peak he was nipping at. His right hand stilled as well. Another small gasp escaped your lips, this time followed by mumbling. He thought that was his cue to continue on.

He slipped his hand over the entirety of your mound before edging fingertips against the gentle line it made. Moving to adjust your legs apart and open you, he could feel the edges of your lower lips peeking out.

"You've been dreaming about me, haven't you? You've wanted this for so long, and I'm finally here to give it to you, I'm finally going to take what's mine," he told you around a breathy whisper.

With a groan against your breast, he brushed his fingers between them, parting you and feeling the slippery, smooth skin inside. He wanted to press his fingers completely inside you, but instead he rubbed the pads of them low against your sex, reveling in how wet you were for him. You uttered a tiny gasp, attempting to shift but he held you in place.

"Easy, babygirl. This'll feel good," he promised, lips sloppy as he tongued against your stiff nipple. He pressed down harder on your clit before rubbing gently, and his touch was rewarded by the tiniest of reactions, a twitch here and there, a gasp.

"Atta girl..." he murmured encouragingly. The thought of you enjoying this was gratifying beyond belief, and it made his stomach flutter. He wondered just how far he could go, and he found himself lured into the temptation of finding out.

"You feel so fucking good, so tight and warm, your cunt is all wet for me," he whispered as his fingers slid back down, sinking his middle finger in deeper with one slow, deliberate motion. Your lips quivered, and you couldn't hold back the whimper that slipped its way out through your mouth. He took a moment to just gaze at you in your state of intimate vulnerability.

He nudged his fingers in further, the hot press of you engulfing his digits was enticing enough to draw a short gasp from him, and he started to ease them both in before pulling them back entirely. Greedily, he sucked them and got them slicker, tongue relishing your taste.

Two fingers in, he shifted and pressed the stiffness in his pants against your leg, rutting against you. His mouth fell slack, your nipple momentarily forgotten in his pleasure. Though his mind flickered through variations of the fantasy now, he was already dreaming of what you were going to feel like around his member. A sense of urgency started to boil in his stomach of just how much he needed that.

Decisively he stopped, trailing his finger out to edge your panties further down until your thighs were as bare as your chest. It didn't take much to roll you onto your side, facing away from him. He hastily unzipped the fly of his pants with a stray swear or two for his lack of dexterity. Roughly, he jerked them down along with his underwear, letting them join the floor beside your bed.

"I was so hard just thinking about fucking you, how wet and ready you'd be for me... I had to come here and see it for myself," he crooned, lips curving into a wide smirk.

Then he pulled you until there was no gap for even air between you two, pressing his body flush upon yours. He angled his member against you, allowing it to slip between the cold skin of your thighs, though not inside you just yet. He set a hand on your hip and rocked you gently, digging the other under you, holding the rest of you near.

He bit his tongue and pressed his lips together, allowing the uneven breaths through his nose, tickling past your ear. Then he slowly thrust and slipped against you, but it wasn't enough, and his resolve was crumbling with every unfulfilling rut against you.

Finally he couldn't resist anymore and let your hip go to stroke himself. He groaned through his teeth as he kept his hand slow in his movements, nudging the tip against you while he worked. Still slick from fingering you, he could feel your lips give just a little more with every press. Very slowly, the very tip of his member spread you open, and he felt almost dizzy. He opened his eyes, heart pounding in his throat, and stared across the room at nothing at all. He could feel your warmth engulfing his member, could feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

"Oh fuck, baby," he groaned, mouth open now as he left hot breath fan faster against your ear. "Your cunt doesn't want to let me go, huh? Oh, but I don't ever want it to stop..." he trailed off, pet names overflowing though he could hardly think to speak at all. Singing- or at least, whispering his praises as he fucked you. He let his hands roam back to your hip, rolling you back into his thrusts. He found himself biting his lip as he groaned. He shut his eyes to listen to the sounds you offered, relishing in every single one you emitted. Utterly lost in you, he failed at keeping a steady motion, one moment thrusting quickly and the next slowly, his hands gripping your skin tight enough to bruise.

A loud gasp escaped your lips, and your eyes flew open after one particularly hard thrust. You fought with every fiber of your being not to turn your head and look at him because then you figured that he would probably disappear. You loved the feeling of him inside of you, letting him claim your body, it was all you could have ever wanted, all you ever dreamed about. You couldn't let him disappear, but before you could dwell on that for a second longer you pleaded, "Please, don't stop, please keep going, please."

"What?" he asked, stilling in his movements.

"Please, more," you whimpered.

He was taken aback by plea that spilled through your mouth, and he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that in his recklessness, he woke you. He found that he wanted to keep the facade up, that this was all a dream so he had to make sure you believed that. "Don't open your eyes, whatever you do, do not open them," he said around a growl that sent a shiver down your spine from its intensity. You made a low whimper in the back of your throat at his words, wanting nothing more than to look at him as he was buried deep in you.

"I'll fuck you just like you want me to, only if you keep your eyes shut. If you open them again, I'll leave immediately, and I won't ever come back here, got that?" he threatened in a rasp, and you gave a short nod in response because you knew he would do exactly that if you didn't obey him. You let your eyes drift shut and told yourself it was just a dream as you relaxed your body so that it was completely at his mercy once more. Jerome felt a hot stirring in his stomach that spread across every nerve in his body seeing you so willing, so obedient for him, how it was very likely he could make you do anything he told you, and that made him want you all the more.

You hummed loudly in response, keeping your eyes tightly closed just like he said, believing it all to be a dream anyhow, it couldn't really be happening but that didn't make it feel any less real. He moved once again, relishing in the way your wet, hot walls fluttered around his member and how your breathing grew heavier with each passing moment.

"Good girl, you're such a good girl," he praised. He leaned in to press a kiss to your ear before tilting his hips forward. You moaned with him as you felt his member penetrating you, until he was pulling back. The next thrust was harder, slicked down with the wetness from within. Each time he quickened the pace, and each time he could feel the wetness spreading, making it easier to slip back in. Moan after moan slipped from your lips, only increasing in volume with every motion of his hips as he reached a hand out to clamped it down over your mouth because he knew if you continued to cry out that loud then he could be easily caught by your parents.

"Hush, I don't want to have to stop fucking you," he told you through a hoarse growl. You bobbed your head up and down in response, and he could feel you shudder here and there along with him. Your moans were muffled against his sweaty palm as he pressed it down harder, his hold on the sides of your jaw almost bruising.

"That's it babygirl," he coaxed you as he hit a steady rhythm finally. He felt the pleasure mounting, clenching his jaw, riding it out for as long as he could. His needy pants filled the silent room along with your quieted ones. Suddenly, he pulled back from you, moving both of your bodies quickly, too desperate to be gentle.

Setting you down on your back, he nudged your legs apart quickly before the weight of his body returned on yours. He slipped himself back in and kept going, holding himself up on his elbows and then leaned in to cup your face. He pressed kisses on your cheeks, your lips, all of them, letting them linger as he felt that threshold about to burst.

You leaned your head back against the pillow as another loud moan slipped out, but he allowed it, just because he loved the sound of it, and he craved it now more than ever. He slammed himself forward, filling you to the hilt before he slipped out, only to glide right back in, repeating the process over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" he cursed, letting out a louder groan then he should have as he kept up with his demanding pace, hips rolling insistently against yours, and rocking harder with each thrust. Your whole body started to quiver underneath him along with his wild movements, the bed creaking loudly in protest along with his ragged breathing that filled the air in a rush. He reached a hand forward and allowed it to slip between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing at it frantically with the pad of his finger until your whole body convulsed with his harsh treatment.

As his finger rolled and rubbed, you found yourself coming moments later, back arching high and thighs trembling as you pressed into that one long finger. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, and it took all of your willpower not to look at him above you. Your tight walls closed in on him, clamping down mercilessly as you soaked him in your juices. The feeling of your warm essence covering him and the fluttering of your walls seemed to trigger his own orgasm. With one more vigorous thrust, he tipped over that edge, mouth open as he gasped for air. He mouthed sweet nothings while he rubbed his thumb over your cheek as he rode out his orgasm, spilling himself deep inside your wet heat. His head banged down to rest in the hollow of your neck as his thrusts began to falter, then stilled altogether.

He gave your lips one last weary kiss before he retreated, legs almost too shaky to support himself as he crawled out of bed. He pulled his pants back up with trembling fingers. His heart pounded like he just ran a marathon, though his mind seemed clearer now. As soon as his pants were fixed, he turned back to you.

''It was only a dream. Now go back to sleep dollface," he leaned down to whisper in your ear, trailing his skin up the sensitive shell. He left you a mess- hair fanned out beneath you, shirt yanked up, panties half on. But then he growled under his breath when he realized that probably wasn't the best decision if someone came in to check on you. Silently, he went about setting you back the way he found you. Automatically, he adjusted order back into your pajamas, and wiped away the worst of the wetness. By the time he was finished, you looked like nothing happened at all. It was a pleasant illusion, he thought, as he smoothed down a wrinkle in the blanket beside you.

One last brush of his thumb to move the hair out of your face, then he sighed before he murmured, "Sweet dreams."

He chuckled darkly, and then in an instant, he was gone, disappeared in the night. You opened your eyes seconds after he left and found yourself alone in the darkness that was your empty room. You uttered a small whimper before you snuggled up into the warmth of your blanket, figuring it was just a lucid dream, especially since those were the kinds you usually found yourself having as of late. Though, a part of you wondered if it had really been just a dream. It certainly felt very real; even when you woke you could still sense the ghost-like touch of his fingers, but you fought against the idea. If he visited you, it would have been to kill you, everything else just seemed like crazy talk.

You woke up the next day, alone in your bed. Had it all been a dream? Had your too vivid imagination hijacked your REM cycle and showed you just what it was you were missing out on only to leave you in the morning with nothing more than cold sheets and an ache that spread all over your body?

Seemed about right.

You rolled over, pulling a soft pillow over your face. You didn't want to get up yet. You couldn't. Your clock said it was only five in the morning, though the world outside looked lighter than that. Heaving a sigh, you pressed the pillow in closer. It felt so real. You could smell an unfamiliar, different scent on the sheets, but then you figured that you were just making it all up in your head.

You slipped out of bed reluctantly after a long thirty minutes just daydreaming about your dream, which was a regular occurrence for you. You made your way lazily to the bathroom, turning the water on for a quick rinse, filling your palms before you splashed your face. After you were finished, you grasped a towel to dry your face, and then glanced up at the mirror. You did a double-take when you noticed the red marks on your neck in the mirror. Leaning in close to the reflection, you rubbed at the splotches to make sure it wasn't a bizarre lipstick smudge or something else easily removed. It wasn't, and you stood back from the mirror, glancing at it again, still disbelief of its sudden appearance on your body.

You traced your fingers around the marks delicately, a smile slowly forming at the corners of your mouth before you whispered to yourself, "Jerome..."