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The Iceberg Lounge was one of the most notorious clubs in the ever bustling city of Gotham. Infamous for it's dealings in the the city's seedy underbelly, it was known fact that if you were there, you were up to no good. It was dangerous to say the least, prostitution and drug use not only run rampant, they were encouraged by the owner— Oz, who used the club to grow his criminal empire. In your sorry case however, it was a last resort. The only place that seemed to pay a livable wage, especially with the occasional under-the-table "tips" Oz would give you and the other bartenders to 'distribute product'.
It was only supposed to be a part time job, but the pay was good— better than it would be anywhere else, and with the current job drought, you had probably stayed there longer than you would have wanted to. Handing out mysterious baggies and being ogled at by random men was not your favorite thing in the world, but it did pay rent and cover tuition, so you couldn't complain; no matter how much you wanted to.
Life went on like that, you were stuck in a miserable job, earning your wages and counting the days until you could finally quit and leave this hell hole. That was until Oz had mysteriously announced his departure last night. 'A shift in management' is what he called it, though everyone knew that was just Oz's code for another hostile takeover of the club. Meaning Oz was just going to lay low somewhere out of town and plot his revenge against whoever it was that had overtaken the club this time. It wasn't a common occurrence, but in the two years you had worked there, it happened a couple times, often times by other super villans and once by the DEA.
This time however, it was different. Shortly after The Penguin fled, a young man appeared the following day, and with him new policies. You noticed, when he gave a brief introduction before opening that he didn't exactly seem like a federal agent. His hair was shaggy and stark black with a strange streak of white in it. He was tall and broad, his muscles basically protruding out from his button up shirt. You and the other's speculated he might've been from a rival mob, or a new super villan, but as the night went on, and you noticed a lack in the usual heinous activities, this was something entirely different.
It wasn't until the club closed early— which was something that had never happened once, even with the hostile takeovers— that you noticed this was something, someone entirely different. He wasn't a fed, that was for certain, a fed wouldn't stop all drug activity, they'd want to surveil and take down names first. And a mobster or drug lord wouldn't stop at all, much less close early.
So, not a cop and not a drug lord. If it were based on looks alone, you would've guessed he was one of the Wayne wards, he certainly looked the part, but when he spoke it was so gruff and blunt, something that certainly didn't scream millionaire. Besides, what kind of Wayne would want anything to do with this place? So, the only reasonable conclusion you were able to draw up was— nothing. You were stumped. Absolutely clueless as to why anyone would want to overtake the club if they had no ulterior motives. Unless, of course, they were some sort of super hero in disguise.
Which is probably why, when he sat down on the bar stool, after everyone had cleared out and you were wiping down the counter, you blinked at him and against your better judgment blurted out, "Are you Batman?"
To which he sputtered and turned bright red for only a moment before fixing his frown and growling, "No!"
"Jeez sorry, I was only joking." You muttered looking down at the counter and rubbing furiously at a spot, feeling the embarrassment and shame pooling white hot in the pit of your stomach.
"Yeah, sorry." He groaned, placing his forehead into the palms of his hands. "I just don't like Batman."
"You and practically everyone here." You scoffed. "He's beat up some of my most loyal customers. Not that they didn't deserve it." You continued wiping the counter, even though it was already clean, feeling awkward about very clearly striking a nerve. "Well…" You began after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, "My shift's done, so I'm just gonna… you know." You put the rag in a bin and began walking towards the exit.
"Sorry for…"
You stopped in your tracks and looked back towards the sitting man, who had pivoted his back towards you. "Don't worry about it." You smiled, and continued walking away.
"I'm Jason." He introduced softly.
You turned again and smiled, introducing your name, "It was nice meeting you, Jason."
—
It had been a month since Jason's arrival, and since then, you had built a routine. Every shift while you closed and wiped the counters, Jason would sit across the bar, and order some complicated fruity drink. He had told you— after you rolled your eyes and asked him why— it was to put your skills to the test. He called it product management, but you knew it most likely was because he loved being an ass, though a part of you wondered if it was his attempt at keeping you longer. Jason may have seemed like a tough nut to crack at first, but as time went on, you realized how much he truly loved talking— to you at least.
Today, he sat down with a particular evil smirk plastered on his face, "One Sex on the Beach please bartender. Extra cherries."
As usual, you rolled your eyes but continued to pull out a collins glass and a bottle of schnapps from the top shelf. "You know one day I'm going to get so tired of this, I'm gonna quit." You rambled as you poured.
"Nah." Jason pouted, "You could never do that to me."
You swished the syrup and liquor in a shaker, "Yeah, yeah, yeah… You say that now, but what about when you leave?"
"What do you mean when I leave?" He frowned, his goofy smile quickly disappearing.
"Well, I mean," you stopped shaking the liquid, and locked eyes with him, "You never told me why you took the bar from Oz, but usually, whenever this happens, he always comes back. I mean it's literally The Penguin and The Iceberg. Kind of hard to separate." You giggled, and continued shaking.
Jason snorted, "It's different this time." His face turned serious again, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. "He won't be coming back. Guaranteed. He's done hurting people"
"That's what they always say. Trust me, Oz is so resilient, he'd have to be dead-"
"He's not coming back! Okay?" Jason snapped. You took a step back, letting go of the shaker and gripping onto the counter, not used to him bursting out at you. He reached over the bar and outstretched for your hands that were still braced against the bar. "I'm sorry, I just- just drop it. Please?" His green eyes locked onto yours, and he gave you a meek almost pathetic pleading smile that you just couldn't resist.
"Okay." You sighed, picking the shaker back up and emptying its contents onto the glass, topping it off with a tiny umbrella, and garnishing it with seven maraschino cherries. You slid the drink towards him and smiled, "Extra cherries."
"Just how I like it." He grabbed an extra straw from the dispenser and plopped it into the orange drink. He patted the stool next to him and you obliged walking over and sitting next to him.
You sipped on the drink, "Damn, I make a good cocktail."
Jason laughed, "You sure do." He praised.
The rest of the night continued like that, stupid jokes turned into serious talks. You talked, about anything and every thing— about life, the past, family troubles; never once looking at the time. It wasn't until the sun began shining through the windows that you jumped up from your seat, "Shit." you laughed, "I can't believe we pulled an all-nighter." Your head rested on Jason's shoulder.
"I can't believe we sat in these uncomfortable things all night, when I have a pretty comfortable couch upstairs." Jason chuckled, "My back's killing me."
"Oh. Sorry. I'll start heading out if you wanna go to sleep." You were halfway through getting up until you felt a large warm hand wrap around your entire bicep.
"I don't think it's safe for you to drive home with no sleep. Crash on the couch, I'll sleep on the beanbag."
You thought about leaving, you really did, but the truth was you didn't want to; so you nodded and allowed him to take your hand and guide you upstairs towards the bar's office.
"Are- you- living here?" You asked, looking around. The place was scattered with papers: bills and receipts. There was an old ratty brown leather couch with a blanket and a pillow on top. And as promised, a large black bean bag beside it.
"Yeah," Jason rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I don't need much."
You giggled murmuring a quiet 'clearly…' under your breath, but still you walked over towards the couch, and kicked off your shoes. You'd be lying if you said you weren't exhausted. You laid down and draped the dusty old blanket over you, yawning a quiet, 'night' to Jason sitting besides you on the bean bag with his eyes already closed. He hummed and you felt your heavy eyelids droop closed as you drifted off to sleep.
When you both woke up, you had just enough time to go back home and get ready for your shift before the bar opened. You refused Jason's offer to give you a ride on the back of his motorcycle feeling like you didn't want to bother him any more than you already had.
When you returned, you felt refreshed and happy, especially with the way you noticed Jason would steal quick glances at you from the top of the stairs while you prepared customer's drinks. For a Friday night, things were moving pretty slow, which came as a surprise to no one; since Jason took over the club the regular customers had moved their nefarious business elsewhere.
Jason made his way over to the bar, and sat in his usual spot, nodding his head at the two other people who were sitting a few stools away. "What'll be today Mr. Todd?" You asked in your best customer service voice, with a stupid grin expanding on your lips.
"Hmm… I think I'll take it easy on you today. Just gimme a beer. Whatever's on tap is fine. If you could be so kind miss…"
An incandescent rosy warmth unfurled across your cheeks; there was no particular reason for it, but the way Jason seemed to talk in that gruff-barley-flirting voice, well, it just did something to you. "Coming right up Mr. Todd." You smiled grabbing a beer mug and pulling on the lever of the beer tap, with that same inescapable grin.
That smile— Jason thought, was the best smile he had ever seen, so gleaming and bright it nearly made everything he had gone through worth it; if only to see your smile. "You know…" He began when you set the beer mug down in front of him, "You've been a really big help around here lately, how does the position of manager sound to you?" His green eyes fixed on you, it was almost as if he had stopped the world itself with the way he stared at you so intently. Usually, he had a deep sadness within them but in this specific moment they glimmered, looking almost— hopeful? How could anyone in their right mind possibly deny that look?
"Are you serious?" You asked, your eyes never leaving his trance.
"Dead serious." He chuckled softly to himself and lifted the mug to his lips taking a swig from the beer.
"Hmm I don't know…" You said. Jason set the mug down, those sad dull eyes returning, "I'm just kidding! God, don't look so glum. Of course I'll take it, assuming there's a pay increase right?" You asked only half joking— a girl's gotta eat after all.
Jason laughed almost cheering, "Great! So it's settled. You got the job and the raise." He lifted the mug again, taking an even bigger swig, and then chugging the rest of the contents, "This calls for a celebration. Fill 'er up boss." You both laughed as you filled his cup to the brim.
A number of continuous refills, and several dumb jokes and pointless conversations later, Jason's cheeks were flushed, his hair was disheveled and the top buttons on his shirt were gone revealing the top of his well built chest. "I'm gonna head to the head really quick, if that's okay with you boss?" He chuckled.
"Get out of here!" You jested, giggling softly. Your eyes inadvertently glancing down at him as he walked towards the restroom. You continued putting the bottles away getting ready to close early since it was just you and Jason in the bar, when a burly bald headed man pushed his way into the bar, sitting right in front of you, in the stool where Jason was sitting.
You recognized him immediately, he was one of The Penguin's main drug peddlers. He was always such a nuisance, usually coming into the club high on God-only-knew, shoving baggies unto the bottle girls' trays, threatening them and smacking their ass. You hadn't seen him since Oz's disappearance, yet much to your disdain, there he sat across from you. His big fat head blocking nearly everything else in the bar.
"Excuse me sir," You began, "There's a customer sitting there. I'd be more than happy to take your order at any other available seat."
"I'm well aware sweetheart. You don't have to treat me like a stranger, just 'cuz Oz hasn't been around. Gimme a whiskey, you know how I take it." He said, still not moving from Jason's seat.
You rolled your eyes and decided Jason would just sit in the next empty seat and avoid a useless fight. You poured the whiskey into a glass adding three ice cubes and handed it to him without saying anything. His meaty hand gripped onto your wrist before you could retract. You looked up at him, your heart beating at a hundred miles per hour. "Let me go." You warned.
"Or what?" He challenged, flashing you a yellow grin. You strained your wrist trying to free yourself but his grip only tightened, hurting you every time you would move,
"Why are you doing this?" You cried, still flailing your wrist despite the pain.
"Me and the boys wanted to make sure Oz's bitches were kept in check for when he returns. And it looks to me like you're giving me problems. Isn't that right boys?" He turned to his back and a fleet of ten men, all just as stocky as him congregated around him, their hands resting on their gun holsters. "You're gonna give us something we've always wanted bitch."
Your eyes burned hot, tears were gushing out and you could feel the warmth of blood growing on your wrist. You shut your eyes in disbelief and terror. That was until you heard a loud 'thud' and you felt his grip relent. You quickly pulled your wrist away and opened your eyes, greeted by the site of all ten men unconscious on the floor. Jason was on top of the fat man, his hands were covered in blood but you could tell none of it was his own. The man's face— what was left of it, was a bloody pulpy caved in mess. Jason continued punching even after the man stopped screaming or twitching. You stood there, watching him. Laying punch after punch, hearing his heavy breathing. You approached him, carefully placing a gentle hand on his shoulders.
Jason stopped punching, his chest was heaving. He sat there for a minute on top of the man with your warm hand on him, basking in the comfort. "Did he hurt you?" He asked softly, breaking the silence.
"Just my wrist a little bit, but it's nothing Neosporin won't fix." You sighed, pulling Jason up. "Is he— dead?" You asked unable to contain the trembling in your voice.
"Yeah." Jason said in a cold distant tone, "I'm sorry you had to see that." He turned to you, softly grabbing your wrist and inspecting it.
"It's okay." You reassured, "I've seen a lot of things because of this job, and this may be wrong of me to say, but if anyone deserved it— it was him."
Jason stared at you in disbelief, feeling for once in his life, like he was finally understood. He bent down, brushing his lips against your own. You drew in closer, closing the small gap. All at once, he drank you in. His lips were surprisingly soft, but the rest of him was rough. His tongue slid into your mouth, swiping at your teeth and pushing against your own. The catharsis of emotions swirled against your head, and it was almost too much. You felt dizzy, weak, and still you were elated. High on the euphoria of an adrenaline rush.
His hands slid under your blouse taking it off you and undoing the clasps of your bra with ease. Your nipples hardened against the pads of his calloused fingers. You let out a breathy moan, reaching for the bulge in his jeans. He relinquished the hold on your nipples and began undoing his belt.
He grabbed your waist and carried you to the edge of the bar counter, bracing you against the cool wood surface. He hiked your skirt up and pulled your soaked panties down, running his hands through your slick folds. He muttered a quick 'fuck' as he entered a large finger in you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion bucking your hips against his digit.
"Yeah, just like that baby." He soothed, entering a second finger and spreading your wet hole. You turned back to look at him. The top of his eyes were covered by his black and white hair the green in his them was replaced by his huge black pupils. His mouth was slightly parted and his lips were sickened and wet. He looked so filthy.
You heard the jingle of his belt, as he pulled his cock out from the constrained fabric of his jeans; and though you couldn't see it, when he placed the head of it against your heat, you could tell just how big he truly was. He pushed in, allowing no time for your tightness to grow accustomed to him. You sobbed, feeling your hole strain against his length and girth.
"Fuck. Baby." He groaned, "You're taking me so well." His hips grinded as his pace began picking up. Your back arched to further accommodate him. The string of moans you were releasing were so loud and so lewd, a part of you worried about the possibility of a customer entering and seeing the pile of dead bodies on the floor while Jason drilled into you on the counter— but when Jason's dick hit a specific spot very deep inside you, you couldn't be bothered to care. You sobbed and he continued moving, his pace unrelenting and frantic. It was clear you were both extremely high on adrenaline, but like you said, you couldn't be bothered to care. At least not right now. Not while Jason's hips were deliciously and rhythmically fucking you so good.
"Jason!" You cried spamming under him. His grip held tighter on your waist, as he kept his desperate tempo. Your pussy was sopping wet at this point, and the sounds the both of you were making were so dirty and carnal. "I'm going to cum!" You sobbed tightening against him, expelling your viscous juices all over his length.
Jason groaned at the new found sensation, "You're such a good girl. Fuck, you feel so good." He griped at your hips tighter, murmuring your name under his breath like a mantra, allowing for the slurry of your moans and the sounds of your squelching wet pussy to mix in the air and combine into the most lewd primal symphony he had ever heard. He came inside you— wet and warm and delicious, groaning your name loudly, his hips stuttering on top of you.
He pulled out, and quickly carried you into his arms planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'm really sorry you had to see that, but I will never let anyone hurt you, I promise." He whispered your name, as you curled into his arms, feeling the comfort and warmth of his body.
"What are we going to do about this mess?" You asked, looking up at his face, after a few minutes of being cradled.
He kissed your forehead again, "Don't worry about it, I know a guy." He smiled into your skin as you felt your eyelids shutting. Whatever was going to happen— you were both sure of one thing— you had each other.