Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Batman and everything associated with the DC universe does not belong to me. In no way am I profiting from this.
Warnings: OOCness, m/m sex (first writing of sex in general), mentions of het, drinking, unsafe sex, bad language, and implications of extreme violence
Written for last year's Livejournal's Freak Like Me: A Batman/Joker community challenge, Halloween Anonymous. Thought I'd post this here, appropriate for the month.
Why do I do this to myself?
However many times he turned it over in his head, nothing.
When ruggedly handsome, Princeton classmate, Paul asked if Bruce wanted to join him for a Halloween party, he accepted (all but whooping for joy). Though Paul picked him up at his off campus apartment in a corny cowboy outfit, Bruce considered this "not officially a date" worth it. Even still when Paul directed the cab to a rundown neighborhood and left Bruce to pay the fair. "My wallet's in my other chaps," he playfully chided with a shrug Bruce hated to find adorable. Right when Bruce started to doubt was when five minutes after entering the small two-story, Paul had said he was going to say Hi to someone and that he'd be right back. That was, Bruce checked his watch, forty-six minutes ago.
Here he sat on the end of a lumpy couch with stains he didn't dare guess the origin, making himself small despite his athletic build in a fitted black sweater and grey slacks that Alfred would get rid of for their leading little to the imagination. Then there was the simple black masquerade mask they unceremoniously grabbed at a dollar store on the way here hanging off his tanned forearm.
Crude rap music caused the rickety building to rhythmically shudder and pound irritation into his skull. More costumed strangers had arrived, chatting and drinking and being total fire hazards. Bruce's nose wrinkled at the smoke-laden air and the combined stink of sweat, perfume, and spilt beer wafting from a cheering dining room of Beer Pong. He stared at nothing in particular, only searching for a flash of red bandana or faux calfskin trousers. The dimmed lighting left the writhing sea of colorful smocks nothing but a bland mass generating thick humidity. He was thirsty, but he wouldn't dare venture out in fear of losing his spot. Forced to squeeze in a corner somewhere, bumped into constantly and asked to move and the utter humiliation… no way.
Besides, he didn't drink cheap beer.
I'll give him ten minutes. If he doesn't show, then I'll-
He was slammed to the side -wincing at the sudden crush of armrest against bicep- and reflexively caught a slippery French maid. Amongst curls of ginger, two unfocused spider leg blue eyes gazed up into his. For one terrifying second when her head jerked forward he thought she was going to barf on him, but then a shrill cackle burst from her rosebud lips and he didn't know which was worse: Acidic beer staining his nice cashmere or the ringing in his ears. He all but threw her to the floor with a disgusted snort.
"Quite the, uh, lady killer, aren't you?" Coarse material brushed his ear. Bruce reared back as his head whipped to the right. A crossed pair of long, lightly-haired legs swung lazily off the arm rest. His startled eyes followed them up to the obscene length of white skirt hugging pale thighs. By the time he failed at "just skimming" the long torso, Bruce's mouth had gone completely dry and a painfully obvious heat bloomed in his cheeks. On any woman the nurse outfit would seem almost modest with its pink-trimmed short sleeves and collared v-neck but on this lithe figure, oh my god…
"Hey." Sinewy arms flexed and motioned. A pair of skeletal hands pointed long paint stained fingers upward. "My eyes are up here, pal."
Bruce hadn't realized he'd been staring at the revealed strip of flat chest until his attention was called away. Heat streaked down his neck, but when he chanced looking into this creature's heavily black-circled eyes, they radiated more amusement than offense. Bruce couldn't tell otherwise because, other than the eyes and white-stained forehead, a powder blue surgery mask covered the bottom half of his face. "There. Good of you to join the conversation."
Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. "Conver…"
"Yes, you know that nifty exchange of thoughts between two or more individuals and they leave better off from the experience? Well, in my case, I'm usually the only one benefiting because I'm usually the only one talking but that's… more times than not when I'm by myself…" The two black pits pulled together in a frown until his broad shoulders lifted and fell in an inelegant shrug. "Where was I?"
Dark eyes fixed curiously onto Bruce, piercing and roving. "…you do talk, right?" the nurse murmured after several heavy thumps of techno.
His tongue felt like a useless fluff of cotton in his mouth. He had no thoughts for his brain and vocal chords to connect. With nothing to idly sip from, he was stuck with fingers plucking his pants and his teeth worrying the meaty inside of his cheek. Say something-say anything! "I-I hate cheap beer!" he blurted. Bruce watched, mortified of himself, as the nurse cocked his head to the side like a perturbed dog. Then a cutting bark of laughter erupted.
He almost convinced himself that he wasn't avidly watching the white stretch of throat -bobbing Adams apple and the shadow of a vein- as this howling stranger threw his head back, nor the crooked fingers clutching at his sides, each spasm of breath hiking the skirt's hem just a bit higher. Though the laugh sounded garish and admittedly sent some rather unpleasant shivers down Bruce's spine, he could tell it was genuine and not some surface pleasantry so he gladly reveled in it. That this guy was laughing at him and considered him a complete moron was not a possibility he wished to entertain.
After a minute passed the laughter tapered off with only a giggle or two. Bruce was torn to note the skirt remained bunched to upper mid-thigh and its owner didn't notice or didn't care. "Well, that was original," he said with a chuckle. "Here alone?"
"N-no." Technically true.
"Aw… too bad…" He drew closer, crossing thin forearms and draping them over knobby kneecaps. "Because I don't care." By now a masked nose was just barely grazing Bruce's, daring him, it seemed. He unconsciously licked his lips.
A shout rang out nearby, and it was enough to shatter his thoughts. He blinked and the nurse had already retreated, lounging back and throwing an arm along the couch's length. Though he couldn't see, Bruce was sure he was grinning."Er, what's your name?"
Covered cheeks stretched wider. "… not telling."
"Your name supposed to be some big mystery?" Bruce glared.
"Oh no," he sighed dreamily. "... but some day it will be."
Bruce didn't know how to respond. Laugh? No, wonder if he offended him? Nod sagely and hope the subject changed? Um… but then he remembered out of anyone else, the nurse with the tempting neck was talking to him and-Wait- oh shit was he obvious? His eyes shot open and the familiar prickle of paranoia danced across his skin.
Charcoal eyes squinted for a moment. The erratic swell of music hid the contemplative clucking of a tongue.
He should go. He should just get up, drown himself in booze, so maybe that way he wouldn't feel so very self-conscious. Then he would go snag a drunk chick and get Paul alone some other time. Right, Paul, 'member him?
"Paying attention, slick?"
"It's Bruce," he absently supplied, already eying the dancing mermaid beckoning him over several feet away. The nurse's brow lifted and his head cocked, silently asking, "Does it matter?" Bruce supposed it didn't, because he was leaving now.
"Hey, where're ya goin'?"
"Away." Before I do something else embarassing.
The nurse settled back hearing this with an unseen smirk. "Y'know I was really on the fence about talking to you."
"Yeah? So why did you?" Bruce watched as Frankenstein stole his mermaid. Damn.
"Because you were the only one sulking," the nurse sputtered as if his reasoning was obvious.
"Wasn't sulking." He looked away with a resurrected blush.
"-and I just had to put a smile on your gorgeous face." The other's eyes absolutely twinkled. "Dark. Brooding." The nurse stood gracefully against him. His hidden mouth hovered beside Bruce's ear. Suddenly a sneaking, hot tongue darted along the shell. "Fuck me."
Bruce reacted with a sharp intake, purposely looking anywhere other than the lithe proposition of God only knew drawing small circles on his hip with a chipped nail. It trailed the band of his trousers then disappeared. With glazed eyes, he watched long, pale legs saunter up the stairs and out of sight.
"Fu-uck." A strong lurch in his stomach. Air. He needed air. He stumbled his way to the swarming kitchen and nearly cried with relief at the gaping back door. Crisp October air filled his lungs and chilled his heated skin. He'd find Paul and just spit out his feelings and be done with it. Yes. Paul would be best to do that sort of thing with.
Further out in the yard a slew of partiers stood in a broken circle. Desperate for any distraction, he slipped between a crowing Mad Hatter and a blushing gypsy. What the… Jaw plummeting to the brittle grass, Bruce watched aghast as an all too familiar cowboy was giving it sloppily to an angel from behind. Another sickly lurch and he fled back inside the house. The image of an admired face melted in drunken rapture and a crooked, sparkly halo haunted his flight through the near bursting first floor.
"Had me doubting myself for a second there," the nurse grumbled without looking up from picking at his nails. The first thing Bruce noticed, despite the other's casually seductive pose, was he could actually hear the careless lilts and nasally jagged tone. The second was the tossed aside surgical mask. "Well close the door," he snapped.
Bruce did what he was told and locked it. It looked to be a plain bedroom, but that was as far his observations went, not when there was an exposed mouth to ogle over. "Those real?"
"What?" The clown/nurse finally looked up, donning a knowing grin. "These?" His chin lifted, presenting slashes of red torn skin. They looked authentic. Latex, Bruce decided. The nurse's smug expression suddenly darkened. "Right then," he muttered, crawling onto his hands and knees.
Bruce's eyes bugged. Despite the abrupt turn in conversation, his pants became tighter.
"Well?" He glared viciously over his shoulder, twitching. Loose moss strands of hair hung in his painted face.
The brunet did a stunning impression of a goldfish.
"Good fucking god," a honeyed sulfur voice snarled. Hands tore at Bruce's leather belt, making short work of the button and fly, then grabbed him through the material.
Bruce yelped and almost doubled over at the sudden pleasure.
"Ready to put aside your delicate sensibilities now?" was hissed through gritted off-white teeth.
Heavy lump in throat, Bruce looked dazedly into cold hazel eyes and nodded.
"Brilliant." He released him with a smile, scars stretching horribly. "Shall we?" He resumed his earlier position.
Bruce stared at the pink hem revealing lean, milky thighs and dragged a hand through his hair. Yes, it would be easier this way, like dogs. It's not like he wanted this to be romantic or anything…
Carefully he eased down to his knees. Hopefully the noise downstairs would drown out his heart banging against his ribcage. Shaky hands pushed the starch material up till it bunched around a narrow waist.
"So serious." The nurse craned his neck and watched in amusement.
"You're not wearing underwear," Bruce murmured without inflection.
A dry chuckle. "Of course, this is a dress."
Two pale and perfect globes swayed teasingly under Bruce's hovering hands. A gush of hot breath sent a wave of goose flesh erupting over the exposed skin. A bottle of hand lotion on the nightstand caught his attention, and he lunged for it.
"What are- oh." The nurse smirked. "Fine, but no prep."
Bruce frowned. When no other directions were forthcoming, he merely slicked himself up, groaning with those few strokes. "Then do I just…?"
"Mmhmmm."
Taking a breath, he gently parted the cheeks and came close to fainting over the pink pucker. No, it's too small. It'd be impossible. "Uh, won't this hur-"
"Now!"
Jumping at the barked order and angry for that weakness and even more enraged at the reminder he would have to do this just like stupid, pig-headed Paul, he shoved forward. The head breached, and it was the best thing in the world. The body below was trembling and chanting, "Yesyesyesmoreyesmore" and pushing back, forcing himself to the hilt. With a grunt, he gripped bruises onto sharp hips and tried desperately to not come on the spot.
Hot. Tight. Too tight, it was borderline painful, oh but it was so good… and coherency disintegrated into carnal heat.
Skin slapped. Moans and growls shuddered. A fierce rhythm with the heavy metal thrash. Pleasure pooled in his thrumming groin. One look down to see him plunging in and out of that savagely stretched hole and he was coming with a shout, thrusting wildly. Finally spent, he collapsed beside the nurse.
Down the hall, a scream sounded. His tired limbs sunk into the mattress. Eyes half-lidded and bleary.
"Shit." His limp body jostled as the nurse scrambled off the bed.
Bruce just managed to prop himself on his elbows. "Where're you-" he slurred.
"Gotta go." He tugged down his wrinkled dress.
"But… but you didn't-"
The nurse dismissed the erection straining under his skirt with a shrug, one more endearing than Whatshisface, Bruce thought smugly. "Don't worry about it." The greasepaint had melted into the grooves of a scarred, handsome face, and a crooked grin could be discerned amongst the mess of red and white.
The noise spiked again outside.
"Thanks for the fuck," he purred and Bruce's cock twitched in interest but it was too soon. A blotchy, scarlet kiss was placed gingerly on his cheek and in Bruce's sated mind, he didn't start when something was slipped onto his sweaty face. The black masquerade mask.
"Will I see you again?"
The nurse paused at the doorknob and shot an appraising look over his shoulder. Bruce could only imagine himself: Sticky, disheveled with an unusual hope in his masked eyes, and a blood and come stained dick.
A lecherous grin emerged. "I'm sure you'll see me again." And with that he was gone.
Bruce flopped back and didn't move again for awhile, simply reliving all that just transpired. Fucking glorious.
When he did right himself and venture out, it was to horror and chaos and a naked dead girl in the closet.
A nurse's bonnet knotted in her hair.
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