Title: Never Be Brought Down
Author: Cyranothe2nd
Word Count: 640
Rating and Warnings: R for language, violence and mentions of sex
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and concepts created and owned by DC Comics, Warner Bros. and other entities and corporations. No money is being made and no copyright and/or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's note: This is a companion drabble for 'Turning Tables', a kind of 'morning after' thing.
He awakes to a hand gliding down his side, sliding under the waistband of his boxers and settling on his hip. Joker's fingers curl around his hipbone, warm and possessive. The touch is sure, like this is something Joker does all the time. Like this is something Joker will do from now on.
His fingers press harder, the weight of the body behind Bruce settling more firmly. Not teasing, not yet, but Bruce can feel Joker's erection against the back of his thigh. The hand on his hip is a still, heavy weight and he can feel Joker's chest brushing his skin with ever inhale, his breath tickling the hair on Bruce's nape with every exhale. It feels good, to wake up with someone and for one brief, sleep-soaked moment, Bruce considers turning and kissing him, of uncovering Joker's pale body and running his tongue and his fingertips over every inch of his skin. Of fucking him, slow and sweet and long.
And then the reality of what he'd done—and who he had done it with—nudges mockingly into his consciousness. The sharp clarity he felt last night is gone. Bruce's head feels heavy and there is a feeling close to panic winding through his gut. He stiffens and waits for whatever punishment Joker will administer for his weakness.
The silence stretches between them. Bruce can sense Joker's acknowledgment of his change of heart in the way that his body has gone completely still. Bruce fervently wishes that Joker would just say something. Berate him, mock him—say something so that Bruce can hate him forever.
He doesn't.
Joker remains motionless, his hand still gripping Bruce's hip surely, the warmth of it soaking into Bruce's skin and it's suddenly too much and too close. Bruce wrenches his body away. There is a small, disappointed sound behind him but Bruce does not turn. He rolls off the bed and begins to gather his gear, panic and shame stealing the grace from his movements, causing his fingers to fumbles as he straps on his armor.
Finally, he has everything in place and he steels himself and looks back at the bed. Joker's gaze meets Bruce's and he looks…disappointed. As if Bruce has let him down somehow.
Bruce feels hurt bloom in his chest. He fervently wants to believe that what happened last night was rape. But he cannot lie to himself, not even now. He knows he wanted it and that knowledge makes it so much worse. Worst still is the sense of betrayal he feels. This isn't like their battles for Gotham. It isn't even like Joker killing Rachel. This is out of bounds. This is a more intimate betrayal and Joker knows it. He clenches his fists and dares the clown to make a move, to say one fucking thing.
Joker's mouth twists into a bitter smile. He's never been able to resist a challenge from Batman and this is no exception. His mouth opens and jagged shards of laughter erupt from him, swelling into the silent room, battering against Bruce's self-control. With a sense of relief, Bruce lets go and leaps at him, flows into the violence, his mind blanking on everything but tearing this man limb from limb.
He doesn't know how long it goes on but eventually Joker's voice brings him back to himself.
"Feel better?" Joker's voice wheezes past a broken nose. The stitches on his cheek have split, blood obscuring half his face, and his lips are mangled from Bruce's punches. One of Bruce's hands is knotted in Joker's hair, the other wrapped around his neck and Bruce is suddenly very aware that, less than four hours ago, he was making love to this man.
He pulls away gracelessly and stumbles for the door.