overlithe (overlithe) wrote in batmanjoker, @ 2009-07-03 22:07:00 |
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Current mood: | accomplished |
Current music: | deftones: change |
Break (Part 1/?)
Original poster: dark_kat26
Title: Break (Part 1/?)
Author: dark_katz26
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don’t own Batman or any of the characters, don’t make money off them
Warning: Non-con (don’t like, don’t read please), language, explicit content
Pairings: Batman/Joker
Summary: Set after TDK, Joker is out of Arkham and running loose as it should be. Batman just doesn’t see things his way, Joker needs to try a new method of attack.
What more could he do, the Joker asked himself. He’d killed Rachel, the love of his life, destroyed and turned the White Knight into nothing but a demented killer, relentlessly created situations allowing the Dark Knight to physically abuse himself, but still nothing. And now, Joker was really pissed. The man refused to be broken, hell, he refused to crack even just the slightest. The closest he’d gotten to cracking him was in that interrogation room, but it wasn’t enough, not close to enough. Maybe, Joker thought, if I broke him into a bunch of little pieces, I could put him back together. But, put him back together different, change the shape of a few of the pieces, move some of them around. He’d be the same, but a little different. And, if I’m not satisfied with the results, he could just break him again, and shape it differently this time. A hysterical bubble of laughter escaped his throat, Yeah, if it was that easy, I’d have done it by now. He let out a low frustrated grunt and pulled a knife from his pocket, tossing it in the air and catching it comfortably in his hand. Fingering the cool smoothness of the metal blade before he went to tap it against his taught thigh, impatiently. Think, think, think Joker’s mind commanded him, need to knock him down off that damn pedestal, need to bring him down a few notches, his smile widened, or crush him to the ground completely. Yeah, that would be a beautiful sight, Batman, not so sure of himself, moving a couple steps back in fear instead of moving forward in sheer determination. The mental image made his cock twitch deliciously. He pulled the knife away from his leg, expertly sending it sailing across the room to embed itself with a twang in the wooden cabinet.
What would make a man like that lose control? Joker was great at plots of destroying humanity and peace, but he obviously needed to think outside the box. There was something he was missing, he could feel it. Think outside the box he commanded his brain. A dawning came over him, but he refused to smile at the certainty of his genius. He held fast to the thought determined to run it through his head before jumping the gun. His mind whirred along, processing, with little assistance from his conscious self. Analyzing the details, the different possibilities, the different reactions, until he was certain. This was it, laughter bubbled high and shrill, he was going to change the Dark Knight forever.
* * *
Bruce sat stoically in the backseat of the Rolls Royce while Alfred drove on in companionable silence. The Joker had been way too quiet recently and Bruce’s nerves were thrumming in anticipation of what would surely come next. Bruce tried to erase thoughts of the Joker, he couldn’t let him take over his life, that was exactly what Joker seemed to want. But, his thoughts strayed to Joker anyway as he surprisingly seemed to be losing patience with Batman lately. Each encounter showed an ever increasing fury in the painted man directed straight at Batman. Not just fury, but more like rising irritation one would feel toward a small child who couldn’t learn the alphabet. Batman was at a loss to explain the shift in moods, but ignored the increasing instability of the madman and went right on doing what had to be done.
Bruce caught Alfred’s watchful gaze in the rearview mirror as the city lights streaked past them in the dark night. “You have to learn to find peace during the quiet times, sir. As it is you’re more preoccupied when nothing happens than the opposite,” Alfred prompted him.
Bruce smiled lightly, but genuinely, at Alfred’s perceptiveness. “Maybe it’s because I sense it’s a false peace,” Bruce responded.
“All the more reason to take advantage of the lull while it’s here, Master Wayne,” Alfred recounted.
Bruce shifted in his seat and ceased the conversation when his gaze flicked out the window again. The sooner Batman got out into
* * *
The cool breeze of the city moved around his limbs, filtering to the cape, billowing out behind him as Batman stood perched on the building.
He craned his neck up sharply, but couldn’t make out anything in the inky blackness of the tall buildings. Reaching for a button that would activate the infrared vision in his cowl he felt the heavy impact before sight returned. The narrowness of the alley prevented him from tumbling to the ground as the breath was knocked from his lungs and instead found himself wedged between the brick wall and another form that was trying to press a sweet smelling cloth to his mouth and mask. Pushing down the instinct to suck in large breaths to replace the air that had been forced from his chest, he grabbed the forearms of his assailant and forced them back against the opposite wall. Only when the cloth was away from his face did he allow air to suck back into his mouth. Black spots danced in front of his eyes from lack of oxygen and use of significant strength, but he ignored the discomfort as he concentrated on restraining the familiar man in front of him. Except sly man had just kneed him in the stomach pressing what little air he managed to scrape in, back out. Batman’s right arm dropped down defensively, no longer able to ignore the pains of lacking oxygen when his vision was becoming hazy and indistinct.
Joker took the moment to shove the white cloth back over the Dark Knight’s mouth, smashing his head cruelly into the brick wall while his fingers clawed over the exposed skin of his face holding him still. Pressed so close against his armor, Joker could feel the convulsions of Batman’s chest as he gasped for air through the white cotton. Batman connected a punch to his jaw to throw him off, but Joker took the slight sting with a laugh, growing in decibel and hilarity as he realized how weak the punch was. Joker felt Batman’s form sagging against the wall as he moved to try to pry the hand away from his mouth. Joker ceased the giggles as he made out the dark eyes, slowly pulling away from the conscious world, “Nothing you can do, just go to sleep,” Joker whispered icily, “Can’t fight anymore. Just. Give. In.” He watched with glee as Batman did just that, the hand he had restraining Joker’s left falling limply to his side as his body slid down the wall until Joker secured an arm around him, both walls encasing them. Joker waited patiently for another thirty seconds, ensuring his captive was truly out. His red smile became garishly large, “Time to break,” he said as he grabbed a tool from Batman’s own belt and studied it. “Maybe not such a good idea,” Joker said to himself as he considered the significant weight and bulk of his captive. “We’ll just stick to the ground,” he muttered as he dragged the unconscious man awkwardly through the narrow alley.
* * *
By the time Joker dragged Batman to the intended destination, he had to admit, he was tired. The heavy armor on top of the heavy man had taken a significant amount of strength and effort to move. He could have involved a few henchman, but he wanted this to be private, sacred. Joker allowed himself to remove only four items of the armor, two gloves and two boots. The rest he would have to wait until Batman woke up, intimacy was very important for this to have full effect. He looked at the smooth skin of Batman’s hands and surprisingly well manicured fingers, wholly unlike his own long nails and dirty fingers. Who had the time to be concerned about such frivolous things? Well, apparently, Batman did, during his days. Joker harrumphed and secured the large wrists in the metal manacles he had tested himself to ensure they would hold. Holding Batman’s stature upright and against the upright metal table while he attached the restraints was difficult, but finally he was able to let the man’s weight fall forward and let out a shout of glee as his prone form slumped forward, but was held securely upright by the chains. While his arms were secured to the ceiling and attached to a mechanism that would allow tightening of the slack when the Joker desired, his ankles would be bound in the metal shackles attached directly to the metal table. He removed each boot with care and was slightly disappointed to discover plain black socks beneath. He had been hoping for just a hint of flair from the caped crusader, perhaps a slight sense of humor, like the Batman insignia on his socks, but alas, more of the same, black. He peeled the cotton off and found again smooth and well manicured nails. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he said with a giggle as he secured the shackles around his ankles.
Fully secured now, Joker stepped closely to the man and grabbed an ear of the cowl, hauling Batman’s head up so he could study him. A strong jaw line, but all the tension normally apparent was gone in unconsciousness leaving smooth, hard lines. He debated moving the table to the horizontal position, but decided the discomfort of Batman’s current position might cause him to wake up sooner. He let the man’s head drop and inspected the suit for fastenings or zippers or buttons or whatever the hell it was that kept this thing in tact. Poking and prodding the suit suddenly the body moved away from his touch and the Joker’s intense dark eyes shot up, eyeing the now conscious face of Batman.
Batman growled when the Joker flashed him a wide, red smile and tugged at his restraints, which didn’t give a centimeter. He kept his eyes focused on the painted face as it moved in front of him and pushed back connecting with the metal table when the Joker came right up to his face. His vision was still unfocused, nausea plaguing his stomach, so as he went to headbutt the man in front of him, he must have given some indication of his intent. Joker moved swiftly back and out of harms way.
“Testy, testy, you’re always so angry,” Joker taunted him. Batman’s only response was his harsh breathing, trying to contain the fury roiling inside as he surreptitiously took in his surroundings, which were bleak. “Well, if you were angry before,” a garish smile tinged with a manic frenzy took over the painted expression, “you’ll find a new level of rage tonight, I think.” Joker moved next to him and started removing the cape with the fastenings he had found earlier. “It’s always good for the soul to discover new aspects to one’s self,” Joker continued conversationally, ignoring Batman’s attempts to lean away from him. “You, keep way too much inside. But, I just keep unleashing bits and pieces of it.”
He moved to some of the enclosures on the side of the suit and Batman spoke for the first time, startling the Joker from his personal reverie. “What are you doing?” his low, graveled voice commanded an answer.
“Unleashing you,” Joker responded easily, his concentration not strayed from the task at hand as he finally removed a large piece of armor from Batman’s chest. Now that he was getting the hang of it, the pieces were coming off faster and easier, leaving the meshy stuff underneath. Adeptly, he reached into his pocket and extracted a butterfly knife, pinioning the bat further as his eyes bore into the dark, warning pools of darkness. He swiveled the blade seamlessly into the open position and placed it at the shoulder, slicing into the material easily and dragging the edge down as he watched Batman’s jaw clench. Furious with Batman’s continued control, Joker moved erratically with his knife and hand tearing away the material to the skin beneath. He didn’t even receive a flinch as the blade occasionally nicked the skin and small beads of blood rose to the surface. Finally, the top half of Batman was completely bare and Joker took a moment to study his handiwork. Large, broad shoulders with layer upon layer of bulging muscle taught with tension in his current situation that tapered down to a six pack of well-defined muscles. Manic eyes catching on the various bruises and scars he ran a long nail across one in particular and finally received a reaction, a flinch. Joker’s curious eyes met Batman’s, which were becoming less certain in their intensity and Joker felt a stab of pride. “I gave you this one,” Joker said intensely pressing his hand over the small, strangled scar where he had managed to plunge a knife through the armored plates. “I like knowing I’ve marked you. That every day you look in the mirror, you’re reminded of me,” his words were nearly breathless as he eyed Batman.
Batman had relied on his training to keep him in control, refusing to give in to any type of panic even as he felt the cool air meet his skin and the blade scrape across his skin while the top portion of his suit was wrenched away. The restraints were secure and the metal didn’t give him any room to maneuver out of them. The only weapon he had at his disposal was his teeth, which if the madman got close enough he didn’t have a problem using. He was keeping calm, composed, ignoring what was happening around him until he felt the Joker’s hand purposefully touching his skin. Unable to squelch the reaction, he flinched as if he’d been branded by the painted man’s touch. Which was ridiculous considering he was practically already branded in that spot by the scar left behind from the wound inflicted by Joker. He’d regretted speaking earlier. Felt he’d given up some measure of power even though he knew right now he didn’t have any to give. But, he couldn’t give in to that pattern of thought. No, he had power and he wouldn’t give any more by speaking to the freak. That’s exactly what Joker wanted some kind of soul searching conversation and Batman would not give this madman what he wanted. So he remained silent to Joker’s taunts until those hands clasped over the utility belt. Adrenaline spiked in his veins and he ground his teeth together to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a response as he felt the comfortable, familiar weight fall away and heard it clatter across the floor. He watched the belt and its weapons slide across the smooth, tiled floor and for the first time had to fight hard at the panic budding within him. Strong, relentless hands gripped his chin harshly and forced his gaze into the Joker’s. Such curiosity, anticipation, and… Was that? Yes, that was excitement. Fuck.
“Still so silent?” Joker held Batman’s face still to keep his gaze and prevent an oral attack. He moved within inches of his mouth and his face turned from predator to slightly compassionate. “You know, if you beg me, I might just let you go right now.”
“Might?” Batman’s low growl made the word sound threatening.
“Why don’t you try and see,” the predator’s eyes were back waiting patiently. At the continued silence Joker shrugged his shoulders indifferently and moved to discard the armored plates around his hips, thighs, calves, saving the most intimate one for last. He could feel the fury pouring off the Dark Knight and into his own skin, intoxicating Joker’s own senses. His anticipation and pleasure was rising quickly at the thought of soon dominating the unstoppable force. The only armored plate left signified the beginning of the end of Batman’s restraint and Joker was humming with impatience. He stood swiftly and nearly collided with Batman’s head most likely placed in that position on purpose. Smirking at the near miss he placed his fingers over the cod piece and watched as Batman closed his eyes, refusing to watch, escaping away in his mind. Irritation replaced Joker’s elation and he grasped the Dark Knight’s chin, forcefully. “Look. At. Me,” his demonic voice rang loud and intently echoing off the cement walls and through Batman’s mind.
Batman didn’t know where this going and didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel, anything. He refused to obey the command of the devil in front of him until he felt the cool smoothness turning swiftly to the sharp edge of the knife digging into the skin beneath his ribs. The warm sticky feeling of blood cascading down his abdomen brought his eyes to the dark pools in front if him. They beckoned him to join in and take part, refusing to be ignored. The blade stopped in its path and was removed, clattering to the ground with a sound that added to the deterioration of his control. He kept the gaze of the maniac that seemed to offer solace even while his lithe fingers came so close to his cock, removing the last piece of armor. He watched as the Joker held the groin plate in front of his eyes and carelessly tossed it over his shoulder. Suddenly, the Joker disappeared from his view that he couldn’t seem to change the direction of his eyes as he felt the knife and hand ripping away the mesh of his suit. Hopelessness and desperation crept through his blood, infecting his mind and he knew he had to break his silence as the last piece of mesh was stripped from him. Clad only in black boxer briefs and his mask he summoned the control, fury, and power he normally felt as he spoke, “What do you want?”
Joker was entranced by the raw figure in front of him. Surprisingly, he was just as powerful and large out of the suit as in. Belatedly, he realized his captive had spoken. “No more talking unless you’re begging,” he said as he kicked away all the armored pieces littered on the floor, “You had your chance, you didn’t take it.” He strutted across the room, to a small table and chair, removing his jacket and draping it over the back of the dingy chair with precise care. Unbuttoning his shirtsleeves and folding them up his forearms as he watched Batman at a distance who was trying to kill him with his eyes. Joker paused in his folding, “You wouldn’t be considering breaking your one rule now, would you?” Silence was his answer and he rolled his eyes impatiently as he finished with his sleeves. His back turned to the bat as he opened a drawer and extracted the item he wanted slipping it in his pocket, keeping it out of the bat’s sight. Ready and happy again he stalked toward Batman who seemed to be losing some of his composure, but he wasn’t certain. Red blood attracted his attention from the shallow wound he made, “Another mark from me,” he said as he trailed his fingers in the sticky, drying blood receiving a low growl. “That’s more like it,” Joker said satisfied. Hooking his finger in the elastic band of the all too predictable black underwear, Joker held the knife in front of Batman’s eyes and watched his gaze follow its path slicing through the cotton and spandex, removing the last layer from his body.
Joker inspected the rest of Batman and smirked at his stoic face, “So you are big everywhere. You never know, some people feel the need to, comp-en-sate,” he took care with each syllable. Joker placed a hand exploring a bruise on Batman’s hip when the man jerked back hard enough to collide with the metal table. “You really have a problem with human contact,” Joker mused and dug his fingers painfully into the black and blue bruise.
“You’re not human,” Batman growled back in anger and part pain.
Joker smiled knowingly, “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”
“What the hell does that mean?” the gravelly voice commanded an answer despite his current predicament and then he quickly regretted playing into the Joker’s hand.
Joker ignored Batman’s question and purposefully placed his hands on Batman’s chest causing the predictable recoil and so his hands pressed the large body back onto the cold metal. His fingers explored Batman’s body with interest and took great satisfaction in the bat’s labored breathing watching the broad chest rise and fall harshly. Paint stained fingers reached up and grasped a forearm, trailing down slowly, precisely tracing each contour of each muscle in Batman’s arms. Skin was so hot to the touch as his hand moved to the shoulder and twisted forward around one large peck and then his fingernails were scratching up the broad expanse of his chest and he rested his palm over the bat’s heart. Joker’s smile spread as he felt the rapid heartbeat under his hand and he eyed the Dark Knight, “Not so composed after all.” Batman growled in response and Joker allowed his own reaction this time, a steady surge of blood to his groin shooting sharp sensations throughout his body. If Batman noticed the tightening in his purple pants, he didn’t indicate anything. Joker let his hand move away from the scorching heat of the bat’s heart and traced a finger around each sculpted muscle, until he trailed down, down, down…
Full on resistance, struggling, and growling broke through the stern composure when the Joker wrapped his hand around Batman’s cock. Joker gave the still disinterested penis a couple of strokes before he decided it was time, “All right, all right,” he removed his hand and walked away from Batman, behind the table.
Batman was seething and control was fast becoming a thing of the past, he couldn’t keep the disgusted thoughts from his face when the Joker touched him. And he couldn’t escape in his mind or he might end up bleeding to death. Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to go, found dead by cops or gangs naked and secured to a table. Great. He could see how it would go now, “Batman dead and unmasked on primetime. Bruce Wayne was kinkier than anyone suspected. Find out how these stories are linked.” It’s nothing, he told himself, whatever happens, I’ll be fine. Just get through it and get out. But when he heard the mechanical sounds and clanking of chain, then felt himself propelled slowly backward, those reassuring thoughts scattered like cigarette ash in the wind. He expected the chains to get some slack, but Joker was obviously rolled any possible slack in and securing them. Fuck. Again. Fuck.
“You wouldn’t be so panicked if I just left the suit on and cut you up,” Joker stated assuredly. “You have problems with intimacy,” he said and then laughed as the sight of the bat naked and restrained in front of him was just too delicious. He walked calmly to the side of the table and walked toward Batman’s head as he ran a hand from each foot, up the calf, and trailed his fingers along the inner thigh until he grasped his heavy balls in the palm of his hand. Batman tensed and tried at the newly restrained manacles and Joker placed a hand firmly on the large chest, pressing him back down forcefully. “Down boy,” he commanded and a manic giggle escaped his lips. “You’re not getting out of here unless I let you, so you might as well relax. You’ll only make it worse if you fight.” A heavy sigh left Batman’s mouth and Joker was shocked at even that small shadow of human emotion that didn’t consist of anger, but resignation. Joker continued to fondle Batman’s balls and then moved back to his cock, expertly rubbing up and down trailing the pads of his fingers across the sensitive tip. The previously disinterested penis came slightly to life, but not as much as Joker would have liked. Oh well, can’t expect miracles the first go around, Joker told himself. He took his hand away and reached into his pocket, still keeping the contents out of sight of Batman who was watching warily.
This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening, Batman repeated through his head. Looking at the Joker did not arouse him, beating the shit out of him gave him satisfaction, but not like this, right? He felt his cock betraying him at the slight hardening with the intense movement of the Joker’s hands and disgust roiled through him. Not my fault, this would happen if anyone put that much effort into it, his mind tried to give him peace. When the heat of the Joker’s hand disappeared Batman felt a lurch of panic searing through his body. God, please don’t, his thought stopped there as he felt a slicked finger press against his ass, easily slipping in with the lubrication. Panic won and his scream of protest bounced off the walls while he clenched every muscle in his body, trying to barricade the Joker out.
If the Joker hadn’t already been hard as rock, that shout made his cock swell and push hard against his pants, begging to be released. When the muscles tightened around his finger he imagined that same resistance pressing around his cock and he grinned. “I wouldn’t do that,” Joker advised him calmly with a smug look on his face, “Or everyone’s going to know what you’ve been doing when you walk around tomorrow.” To make a further point, Joker curled the finger deep inside Batman, forcing the passageway open farther against the tight muscles. He even went so far as to lightly scrape a fingernail along the passageway and earned an immediate grunt of pain and release of muscles from Batman. “That’s a good bat,” Joker murmured as he used his other hand to stroke the still only partially hard cock in front of him. He uncurled his finger and moved it in and out smoothly watching the wonderful range of facial expressions cross the bat’s face. Indignation, pain, rage, fight, it was a beautiful thing and Joker wished he would have thought to bring a videotape. Joker removed his hand from the ever growing, large cock and added some lube to an additional finger. When he slid the second one inside, Batman let out a hiss of disapproval, but refrained from tightening up again learning from the first time. “That’s it,” Joker murmured as his free hand went back to stroking the hard length of Batman’s erection. “Just give in.” Apparently, those were the wrong words as Batman struggled furiously again, pulling against the restraints with amazing force and letting out a sound the Joker would have swore could only be made by an animal, like a lion. The restraints didn’t budge and Batman eventually dropped weakly to the table. Joker just snorted, “And you say I’m not human.” He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, scissoring them ever so often to stretch the passageway. Then he gave in and reached for the spot that would give some please, pressing lightly against the prostate as his fingers dove deep inside the caped crusader.
Batman was unprepared for the sensation and his hips lifted automatically, a groan escaping his lips. Embarrassment at his reaction thrummed in his face and he was grateful the make covered the probable blush. But now he knew and he could prepare himself for the next one, no more sounds, he told himself. He could feel the Joker’s fingers moving apart, pushing him open farther and the discomfort was high, making his breath jagged and raw. When that spot was hit the second time, he bit back any response and took relief in the fact that at least it wasn’t pain for the moment.
Joker was not happy when he hit the prostate a second time and elicited no response from the bat. “Fine, we’ll move on,” Joker murmured in an annoyed tone. He removed both hands, wiping his fingers casually on his pants, and moved to the end of the table, adjusting the restraints, moving Batman’s legs farther apart without releasing them. He clamped them back down to keep the distance between his feet and stood next to the table watching Batman’s face as he unbuttoned his shirt. The bat kept his gaze straight up at the ceiling and Joker felt his painfully throbbing cock begging for a fast fuck. But, Joker kept his control, this had to be done just right. He tossed his dress shirt carelessly to the floor and watched the bat’s face visibly flinch when the sound of his zipper filled the silence. He quickly shrugged out of pants and underwear, shoes and socks coming off along the way. His cock sprang forward, grateful for the release from the constraining material and Joker’s high pitched laugh echoed in his own ears as it pointed directly at what it wanted. He placed the tube of lubrication and a knife in his easy reach and climbed onto the table with an easy grace and plopped his bare ass down on Batman’s thighs so their cocks lay next to each other.
Batman would have squirmed, fought, if it would have done anything, but all it seemed to do was humiliate him further. Even though he didn’t want to, somehow his eyes sought out the Joker’s as he felt a hand around the top of his cock and another cock pressed against the other side. Triumph was apparent in Joker’s expression as he rubbed them together, pumping hard and fast until a harsh breath Batman couldn’t stop escaped. He knew what was coming next and the knowledge was making him nauseous and light-headed. But, he couldn’t let the Joker see that level of weakness, never. So he grit his teeth and endured.
Joker was ready, this is exactly what he’d been waiting for. He grabbed the lube and slathered his cock generously, humming while preparing himself. Placing the lube off to the side, he positioned himself at the still wet opening, holding himself up on the table. “This is going to hurt,” he warned Batman whose gaze finally contained just a hint of fear. Joker nearly came at the sight, but refused to give in. Thrusting hard and fast, he entered deep inside Batman ripping a scream of agony and rage from the Dark Knight. He held the position, giving him time to adjust to the sensation, but still wanting to make pain a large part of it. After a few seconds, when Batman’s breathing calmed somewhat Joker began thrusting in and out at a torturous pace. Rocking the bat in his restraints and the table in general with each forceful thrust as he relished in the fury roiling from every molecule. Fighting the fast increasing arousal while he realized he was inside Batman. As close as one could ever get and a growl of his own tore out as he reached down and grabbed the diminishing erection in front of him, stroking it in time to each penetration. “Want to break that rule yet?” Joker laughed as he noticed Batman’s clenched fists and jaw.
Batman refused to answer for his voice would betray every emotion and sensation he couldn’t seem to ignore. Pain right up there at the top. He clenched his teeth, hoping he would still have teeth left once this was over, against the thrusts that rocked his entire body back and forth with their force. Now he felt the Joker’s hands traveling over his chest followed by a hot wet tongue and teeth, scraping across his nipple. Suddenly, he felt a strange tug on his neck and his eyes flitted open in confusion in time to watch and feel the cowl being pried off. He tightened every muscle instinctively and received a loud appreciative groan from the Joker, which meant a burst of pain and roaring fury for him. Cool air hit his sweat dampened hair and intuitively, his eyes grabbed and held the Joker’s whose expressed shock even as he continued his relentless thrusting and, was that? Appreciation. Maybe he’ll just kill me when this is done, was the only solace Bruce’s mind could find.
He had to do it, had to be able to get to him at all times since the bat was sure to go into hiding after this little episode. Joker vaguely recognized the strikingly handsome face in front of him from the tabloids, but couldn’t remember the exact name. W something, his mind worked as he continued enjoying the pleasure of fucking Batman right up the ass. Think about it later, Joker decided as his cock was ready to explode at any second. Batman was suddenly ready to fight again as he fought against the restraints and moved away from each thrust. Irritated at the interruption of his rhythm, Joker grabbed the knife and placed it against the bat’s cheek. “Don’t make me tattoo that pretty face,” he spat at him. Batman stopped and lay listlessly while Joker continued to grunt and moan, thrusting into him harder and harder. “I’m going to think about this moment every time I see you,” Joker ground out, “Every time you show up to dispense your fucking justice, I’m going to look at you and know I’ve been inside you. And you’re going to know it too. You’re going to know,” he paused to grunt a little more at the great friction around his erection, “You’re going to know I marked you and you’re going to remember my cum dripping out of you.” At that thought, he didn’t have any restraint left and he came hard and fast, his balls pumping out the orgasm deep inside Batman. Hot sparks shooting throughout him, the knife clattering to the floor as he finally collapsed onto the chest of Batman, breathing raggedly. He allowed himself a few moments to collect his bearings again and lifted himself up slowly, pulling out his now satiated cock and he watched as some of the cum dripped out. “Beautiful,” he murmured. He plopped energetically down to the floor and walked to the head of the table where the face he never knew was staring at the ceiling through the black paint around his eyes. “Don’t worry,” Joker trailed a finger down Batman’s hairline to his cheek and he didn’t bother to pull away, “This is our little secret. All of it.” Joker sauntered over to another part of the room and returned with a familiar white handkerchief. Batman didn’t fight him, breathed in deeply as Joker pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose.