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Noise Complaint	By : poorlittlerichgirl91 Category: S through Z > Titanic Views: 1612 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Titanic and I make no profit from the story.

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"I can't believe you kept that from me. You really think I'm this delicate little flower who can't handle anything bad, don't you, Jack?"
Jack looked into her eyes firmly, perching on the arm of their sofa. "No. I don't." He ran a hand through his hair. "But it's not like that, Rose. I just– It didn't seem worth bringing up after how sad you've been about them. It's so pointless. We aren't even staying here permanently anyway."
"But you didn't think to tell me that people – those people of all people – can hear when we... Well, when we're–" she stuttered, refusing to meet his eyes. "You're not touching me again."
"Don't say that, baby." He softened, frowning at the thought and reaching to bring her onto his lap.
"I'm serious. We shouldn't..." She fretted, worrying her thumb nail between her teeth.
"You don't mean that..." He pouted, his hands resting against her bare thighs through the parting of her silk dressing gown.
She groaned in shame. "I do! Why would you come near me knowing people could hear everything? I'm so embarrassed, Jack."
"You're acting like this is my fault. . ."
"It's entirely your fault!" She struggled against him gently, moving so she was standing now. Amid the outrage in her teal-green eyes was a flash of humour, and he felt relieved. "Especially when you–" She fought the blush creeping onto her cheeks, "–Encourage it the way you do."
"I didn't hear you complaining." He reached for her, missing the contact. "Neither did the whole of West 14th Street by the sounds of it, Miss. . ." he whispered against her collarbone as his lips ghosted over her skin.
She gasped audibly, looking at him, mortified. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He quickly moved a hand to stroke her hair appeasingly. "Now, personally, I love the sound of you calling out my name all night long. . . I'm just not sure the neighbours share my enthusiasm for how loud you get is all. . ."
He spoke the words with a playful smirk on his face, but the hint of jest in his demeanour was not enough to prevent her jaw from dropping in horror.
"Jack!" She cried indignantly.
"Rose!" He hushed, whispering. "You heard the man, one more complaint and we're out." His grin broke then, and he chuckled as she hid her face in his chest, muffling her humiliated sighs and concealing the burning of her cheeks. Seconds later, he lifted her head and kissed her.
"Don't be embarrassed," he whispered, inches from her mouth. "You're so beautiful when you come."
Rose glared at him again, her cheeks bright red. "Stop it, Jack." she scolded.
He chuckled. "Well, well, well, that's not a phrase I hear you use too often. . ." He grinned, reaching for her as she pulled away from him in embarrassment. She groaned to herself, hiding her flushed face in her hands.
He brought her into his arms, kissing her head gently. "Alright, alright, I'll stop, I'll stop," He laughed softly, knowing he was forgiven when he felt her arms reach up his torso and tentatively around his neck, closing the space between them. "I should've told you about the complaints. It was wrong of me to keep that, or anything, from you. I'm sorry." His voice was gentle now, and he looked at her sincerely, his hands cupping her face. "I just didn't want you feeling any worse about anything. I know how strong you are, Rose, I do, and I love that about you, but I still find myself wanting to protect you from anything that might make you unhappy. Even something as stupid as a few noise complaints."
She tried to retain the stern look on her face but felt her heart melting underneath his gaze. Then, remembering the insinuation behind the complaints issued to them, she cringed again; groaning under her breath and screwing up her face.
"I can't believe they've heard us. . ." She whispered. "God, what they must think of me. . ."
Jack looked at her, urgent concern flashing in his eyes. "Doesn't matter." He cut her off, his hands caressing her red curls. "What they think doesn't matter. Besides, you weren't acting alone, it's as much my doing - more so, because I already knew. You've done nothing wrong, you hear me?"
"I can't wait to move from here, Jack."
Wishing he could do better for the love of his life, he pulled her into a tight hug, inhaling the scent of rosewater from her hair and skin.
"I know, sweetheart. I know."
Jack watched in adoration as she slept, observing every content sigh that accompanied the rise and fall of her chest. She was bare but partially covered, the thin sheets resting just above the porcelain flesh of her waist; the white bedspread contrasting with her blood-red tresses, untamed and sprawling over the pillows. He tilted his head in awe as he observed the serene look on her face; the hint of a half-smile on her kiss-bruised lips, the faint indentation of relaxed laughter lines around her eyes and dimples as she breathed peacefully. She was curled on her side facing him, her arm outstretched and loosely draped around his waist where she'd reached for him in her sleep.
It took everything in him not to kiss her right then. He felt a sudden loveburst wash over his mind, soul, and body; so intense that he sighed loudly to himself and pondered the question he often found himself asking whenever he looked at her: what on God's green earth had he done to deserve her?
Unable to keep himself from reaching out to touch her - if only to prove to himself that she was, infact, real - he lifted a finger to faintly trace along her jawline and up to her cheekbones. Careful not to wake her, he followed down the outline of her nose with the tip of his finger, flittering over the peak of her Cupid's bow and ghosting over the beauty mark framing those perfect, parted lips. Lips he'd stained with his kisses more times than he could count, but still not nearly enough times to ever satisfy his unquenchable desire.
He travelled back in his mind to the moment he'd first laid eyes on her from across the segregated decks of Titanic. It had hit him like a ton of bricks: the magnetic awakening he'd felt when she'd appeared, without warning, like an angel from some poetic fantasy. It was as though the skies had opened and stars had fallen and waves had crashed and his whole life had been leading up to that single moment in which fate was decided. As their eyes met and she glanced away - and then back at him a second time - it was like a volcano in heaven had erupted and all of that celestial lava had set his heart afire. Love at first sight, he realised now. Not a thing in the world could compare to it because never had he seen something so magnificent; that was the best word he could think of to describe her beauty. If Aphrodite herself had descended upon him at that moment, he would not have noticed or even spared a glance. Nothing could have compared to that tempting, haunting, glorious splendour that was just too blinding to try to move to paper. He didn't even attempt the transfer because in that moment his skills were nothing. They were pathetic in comparison to the siren with fiery curls and alabaster skin, the one who was bathed in the golden sheen of midday on the North Atlantic.
The irony that the very same woman was now here in his apartment, sleeping soundly in his arms made him smile with pride and gratitude. He rested his head back onto the pillow as he scooted closer to her, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers in a tender eskimo kiss. Her lips pouted in her sleep, and he closed the space between them, kissing her tenderly.
He found himself gathering her in his arms and pulling her towards him as she sighed in protest. Sleepily, she murmured a complaint that he couldn't understand, until she blindly felt his chest and pressed herself against him. She was so precious to him that he couldn't let her go, even when his arm ached from holding her so tightly.
"For years I felt incomplete," He whispered to her sleeping form as she stirred slightly, burrowing into his arms further. "Like a part of my soul was missing. I just assumed it was the grief from losing my folks... But-" He pushed a stray curl from her eyes with his forefinger. "When I met you, it was like finally having a home for the first time in five years. You don't know it, but you saved me too, Rose." He kissed her lips again, tears threatening to fall as he thought of all the times she'd credited him with saving her, never knowing that she too had rescued him from a life of mediocre affections and unattached wandering; from a life without the indescribable and unconditional love of his soulmate. "You saved me, too."
Then, something miraculous happened. Her lips curved into a sweet, soft smile.
"I love you, Jack. . ."
Friday, 14th June 1912
The break of dawn brought with it the first glimmers of daylight, seeping in from the window through the apartment's threadbare curtains. She reached out to touch him, his blond hair and golden skin illuminated by the morning light.
He groped for her as she kissed him awake, half drunk with desire and half with sleep. His eyes squinted in the sun as he chuckled under his breath, his wide grin revealing eye dimples. He was breathtaking. Rose had been brought up to believe men were cold and hard; rigid in body and in mind, but Jack was the softest, warmest man she had ever known. His mouth tasted like honey, his hair felt like silk; she ran her fingers through it as their warm bodies shifted beneath the covers.
She wasn't sure how she got to be straddling his hips.
This was a new kind of exhilarating high for Jack, seeing her from this angle; her body moving on top of his, the way her full, pert breasts bounced at his eye level. His large hands cupped them eagerly, feeling her nipples harden under his touch. He kneaded her soft flesh, his mouth never far behind. She sighed, seeking out his hardness beneath the covers and rolling her hips against him. As Jack brought his lust-coated eyes to meet hers, all of a sudden she felt in equal parts ridiculous and wanton for making love in this way. He could sense she was holding back.
"Don't worry about how it looks, baby. Just go with it. Don't think."
"Oh—!" A breathless moan escaped her parted lips, feeling as he angled his hips and entered her slowly; hitting that pleasurable spot inside her from this different angle.
"Shhhh," he smirked, whispering against her perfect lips before kissing her; muffling the sounds escaping her mouth.
Making love in the golden glow; bathing the outline of her alabaster body in light; the red, pink, and orange hues of early morning emblazoning and intensifying the colour of her fiery hair.
"God you're so beautiful,"
She craned her head backwards to one side, giving him chance to take advantage and assault her bare neck in open-mouthed kisses. He groaned into the crook of her neck, one hand holding her hip and the other massaging her breast.
"I love you, I love you," he whispered against her skin.
Rose grasped his hair, pulling him up and throwing her arms around his neck, relishing the feeling of him filling her so deeply. He kissed her slowly, his tongue seeking out her own. She moved faster, moaning as he brought a hand to cup her face tenderly. All of a sudden, stars exploded in her mind as she felt her climax furiously erupt; waves of pleasure spreading from her core and enveloping every inch of her body. She tore away from his lips, calling his name breathlessly as she threw her head back in unspeakable pleasure. Jack gasped, feeling her walls tighten and pulse around him, verging him closer to his own release.
"Rose," he groaned, voice low and husky against her neck.
Her movements started to become tired and clumsy as her pleasure peaked. Jack kissed her forcefully, biting her lip, before taking her by the waist and tipping her backwards carefully, laying her down where she was. She watched him, her eyes coated with delirious ecstasy. He repositioned himself on top of her and began snapping his hips rapidly to hers, savouring the sound of her gratified sighs. He grunted, thrusting hard and fast, only slowing when he heard the brass bed frame start to rattle against the wall.
Rose cried out as she felt his fingers wander down her body to rub that delicious spot inbetween her legs. Moments later, she felt her pleasure peaking for the second time. What was happening? Was it meant to happen more than once? Was that normal?
"Oh my god, Jack—" She shivered, before a breathless gasp escaped her lips, partially in disbelief. Jack smiled, bringing his hand to cover her mouth gently as she came apart underneath him again and again.
A few hours later after their impromptu morning lovemaking, it was 8am. Jack had stayed awake, unlike Rose, who had drifted back into a sated slumber. He stood at the window, watching the morning bustle as people made their way to work in the same monotonous routine they did every day.
As he glanced over at Rose, seeing her gorgeous hair contrast against the white bedsheets, he felt a sense of contentment soothe him. He was so pleased to have been given Friday mornings off, allowing him more time to stay home and be lazy with her — whether that meant making love in the golden glow of early sunlight or enjoying each other's company over a proper breakfast. Already having fulfilled one of those possibilities, his thoughts drifted to the other. Silently, he entered the kitchen. He found a pan and put it on the stove which he lit with a match so flames erupted under the burner. He opened the icebox and quietly took out a handful of eggs, cooking them with ease. Then, he got the bread from the breadbox and carefully toasted it over another burner. When everything was ready, the smell sizzled throughout the small apartment. He served breakfast up on separate plates, placing them and two glasses of juice onto a tray which he carried, tottering, into the bedroom.
He sighed when he saw her. She was bare, the thin white sheet falling just below her breasts.
He put the food at the foot of the bed and leaned over her, sprinkling soft kisses onto her face. She stirred, stretching, until her arms suddenly clasped around his neck. Her eyes fluttered open like budding magnolia leaves against a blue sky as she giggled quietly.
"Mmm. . . I love it when you wake me up like that," she whispered, smiling happily.
"And I do so love wakin' you up like that," he answered almost inaudibly, not wanting to break the morning silence.
He caressed her smooth, fine cheek with his callused hands of an artist. She pressed her own hand over his.
"Hungry?"
As he asked the question, she looked towards the foot of the bed, the smell of food reaching her nose.
"Oh!" She gasped. "Jack you didn't have to!"
"I know. I wanted to." He smiled at her reaction, kissing the corner of her mouth.
"I feel so silly. I've spent all morning with you yet I know as soon as you're out of the door I'll miss you," Rose sighed, ruffling his hair as he stood in front of her, one arm around her waist and the other carrying his portfolio.
He smiled that impossibly handsome grin at her before pressing his lips to hers, teasing her with two short pecks.
"Wanna walk with me downstairs?"
She raised her chin, speaking with her mocking haughty tone. "I'll consider the offer once I'm given a proper kiss goodbye." She whispered the last word against his lips, desperately needing to close the space between them. She felt him smile into the kiss as her hands found his suspenders, travelling up the length of his torso to interlock around his neck. She gasped, pulling him closer, not able to get enough.
"Do they really need you to work today?" She breathed, feeling his hands run up and down her upper arms, making her shiver.
Jack saw the desire in her eyes, almost pleadingly, and it took everything inside him to not carry her back to bed then and there.
"Did I not fully satisfy your appetite this morning, Miss?" He kissed her, slow and soft, smiling at her reaction to his double intendré.
She blushed under his gaze. "You know you did." Then she groaned. "It doesn't matter, though. Jack, we could make love all day and I still don't think I could ever get enough. Especially when all you have to do is look at me and I feel my knees giving way. It's like I— Like I'm drunk from wanting you. . ." She spoke as though she were trying to understand her own conflicting emotions. It certainly wasn't ladylike to be throwing herself at him like this; she could hear her mother's disapproving voice commenting on the inappropriate and unacceptable things they did together, but at the same time, she didn't care. It felt so wonderful; he made everything feel so wonderful.
He nodded knowingly, muttering an "I know," under his breath. He knew, he knew too well. He brought his hands to cup her face, gazing at her with such intense love it almost took her breath away.
"God," He sighed, looking at her in wonder, struggling to believe how it was all possible. "How'd I get so lucky, huh?"
Rose had walked with Jack downstairs to the foyer, avoiding Marvin's eyes as he peered at them from over the top of his newspaper, sitting at his desk.
Jack had embraced her, placing a soft but chaste kiss onto her lips, ignoring the curious stares from residents coming and going through the building's entrance doors. He could sense that she was agitated and tense, so had placed his hands on her shoulders and reassured her with the conviction behind his unwavering, soul-seeing eyes of blue that nothing any one of these people said or thought mattered. She had felt a slight weight lift at that moment, realising she had never trusted a human more.
She watched until he turned the street corner and disappeared, hugging herself where his arms had been.
She was just about to go back upstairs when a gaggle of loud, unpleasant voices disrupted the silence, approaching from the descending staircase, out of sight but unfortunately not out of earshot. The building's reception hall was a large but barren room, where voices echoed loudly off the cracked walls.
"Harriet heard them again last night."
"Heard what, exactly?"
"Them. You know . . ."
"I mean, really. Does that girl have no shame?"
"They're not even married, you know. Neither of them wear a ring—"
Rose's face burned with humiliation and anger. She took a deep breath as she braced herself, hearing the voices grow louder and anticipating the imminent approach of the women, who would soon appear from around the corner of the foyer's staircase.
The three women, each one older than Rose by at least ten years, stopped in their tracks when they saw her. Visibly embarrassed by their social faux pas, they remained at the top of the staircase, looking at each other and trying to stifle their giggles.
Rose said nothing, but glared at them with a sort of dignified vexation. They remained where they were, and she, not wanting to move another step closer to them, turned on her heel back towards the main entrance. Her red hair and graceful posture garnered the attention of everyone in the room as always, and she walked with feigned confidence out of the building; head held high and countenance unaffected. She heard the sudden eruption of laughter from behind, but missed the looks of embittered disdain.
As she walked down the sidewalk towards the fruit and vegetable market stalls, she passed a group of men whose eyes sordidly scanned her body; lingering over the swell of her breasts, sniggering as they whispered amongst themselves about the former first-class lady and her bit of rough.
She crossed the street, hugging her arms over her chest, feeling exposed and somewhat ashamed. What had she expected though, really, after the way she had been acting? Her mother's harsh voice returned. You have no one to blame but yourself.
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Noise Complaint