[SMUT WARNING!]
You have Sal doubled over with laughter with the over-dramatic thrusting of your hips against the park bench and for a moment you forget that people can see you. Not that you'd care much anyway. You've always been more of the crude type anyway.
"Yeah, he was a trier." You laugh, readjusting yourself with feet firmly planted on the ground. "Good job I can fake it, huh? He'd have never stopped!"
"You do that often?" Q asks, lip caught between his teeth to keep from laughing.
"Hell yeah!"
Sal has to lean against Joe for support by now, the laughter the silent kind that has his knees buckling, and the other Jokers have exploded into guffaws too. Well, all excluding one. Murris not amused in the slightest. You feel his hand lock around your wrist before he turns to his friends.
"Ah, [Y/N] and I actually have something to do at home so we'd better get going."
A vague series of goodbyes through tears of laughter follow, and it is with hesitant steps that you follow him. He gets into his car without a word, you sitting in the passenger seat and raising an eyebrow at him. When he doesn't say anything, you figure he's got a surprise up his sleeve - it wouldn't be unusual - and so ask nothing more. Even when he puts his free hand on your upper thigh and strokes it purposefully with fingers that dig in just the way you like it.
---
Collapsing back onto the bed, body spasming lightly as you finish orgasming, it is with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes that you stare up at him. Murr is straddling your thighs, hard length still erect despite the 'session' you'd just had. You throw your arms up towards him, closing your eyes as he leans down so that they can lock around his neck.
"Feel good?" he purrs, basking in your quick nods. He leans in once more, presses a feather-light kiss to your lips... and inserts his fingers back inside of you. You gasp, hyper-sensitive and murmur his name in a desperate attempt to get him to hold on. Murr just smirks at you. "Wanna make you cum again."
"J–James!" You cry, red consuming your face with embarrassment that heats you from the inside out. And no sooner had you exclaimed his name has his head slipped between your thighs, tongue lapping at the remnants of your finish, the taste of you causing him to moan purposefully. Flopping back against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed, you reach your hands downwards and stroke through his low-cut hair, breaths beginning to shudder as his tongue presses against your clit. "O-Oh God, James– I can't–"
He doesn't regard you, just inserts his tongue into you and listens to the choked moan that passes your lips as he pulls it out and then pushes it back in again. The fingers all but clawing at his head spur him on for Murr has always been a lover of roughness; he's dominant both in the bedroom and outside of it, and when somebody reacts like you are to something he's doing, it often means he's doing it right.
Releasing a high-pitched squeal as he brings you to your limit again, he smirks into you and cleans you thoroughly, raising and pressing a kiss to your lips when you calm down enough to breathe levelly– only to cry out once more when his thumb brushes over your clit once more.
"O-Oh God– James– please– I can't take any more–!"
"You came pretty hard, huh?" he breathes, kissing your neck and leaving wet trails with his open-mouthed kisses. Tilting your head back, you arch off of the bed when you feel his hot breath in your ear. Your body screams at you that you're done, completely spent... and yet your core aches for more, hips grinding in time to the motions of his thumb. "Wanna do it again?"
"...y–yes, please..."
"Think I can get you off with my voice, sweetie?" Murr coos, teeth scraping lightly against your earlobe. It's then that he begins with the filthy promises in your ear, how when you were thrusting your hips against that bench in the park he could think of nothing but being inside of you; how he'd longed to leave marks down your throat when you'd tilted your head back to laugh heartily at one of Joe's jokes; how he'd been thinking about fucking you senselesssince the moment you'd locked fingers that morning to leave the house and meet the others.
You moan loudly, liberally, hips bucking into his thumb and all but scream with pleasure when he gets you off for a third time, sheets beneath you soaked as you cling to him and ride out your high, a tirade of 'James, James, James!' escaping your lips.
As you lay back, completely spent, you feel him shift beside you and wrap an arm around your waist. His warm fingers dance along your side, making you shiver as you lay there with him. Rolling onto your side, he presses a kiss to your temple, his smirk firm against your skin.
"Nice faking it, baby."
All he can do is laugh as you reach over and slap his shoulder, a sharp 'asshole!' leaving your lips before you give in and kiss him again.