This Masked Man He Loved Insanely…
He liked rough fucking. Had once tried to 'make love' or 'have sex' and it just made him feel things he didn't like. Like tenderness and caring. So he avoided that at all cost. also took him a long time to find someone who liked fucking his way. Surprised him to find out his Bat was just as rough, if not more so. Even more surprising was that his Bat took him to a nice pad, somewhere under the city of course, and they fucked for over a week before he was given back to the loons at Arkham. Being known for fighting his Bat, no one asked about the marks, ones he wore with pride. They were signs that he could easily break someone as thick-skinned as his Bat, while still retaining some of that virtue.
Of course, to tango once again, the Joker got out of the asylum faster every time he was taken back, the memory of their last time always at the forefront of his mind. He never let his Bat on that the fucking was his reason for constantly getting out, and constantly seeking out the vigilante. That would give the game away. If his Bat asked him to try and get help, to let the loons analyse him and all that came with it, he would let it last until he believed he would snap, crawling out in laughter and madness to get his fix. He knew he could easily survive without his Bat, that he had no doubt. Just didn't want to, didn't want anyone to hurt his Bat either. There were a few times he broke out just to rough up or kill the creature, or multiples, who would dare to hurt or kill his Bat. He wasn't possessive often, but when he was, all beware. When the Cat came to town, he had to fight with more venom than before, meeting up with his Bat to constantly remind him who he committed to first.
The strange thing was, his Bat complied, even agreed. When he went after the Cat to get her off his Bat, she put up a fight, and even propositioned him, but he was raised that once you give yourself to someone, you are to have no one else. He expected the same from his Bat, and surprisingly got it. What was more surprising was, after almost four years of this dance, his Bat came after him, craving him. The elated feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he should hate this, told him that those feelings were coming back. By then, he no longer cared. He had someone who wanted him, for the first time in his life. Albeit they were still violent toward one another, still kicked each other's ass every chance possible. Mostly, those encounters ended with him being put back in Arkham with a bite mark or two on his neck and chest. These were always the time he would get out faster, of course, yet when he was taken without any markings, he remained in the asylum, resting it would seem. Oblivious as always, the loons never noticed. Not that it mattered much to him, he just wanted to savour his memories, try to remember the physical caresses as if he were with his Bat that very moment. Once he couldn't stand that any longer, he broke out once more, going after it with all his being. Every fibre used to reach that place again, whatever that place was.
It was a year after their first sexual encounter, and he could still remember it, the way he was pounded into, teeth grinding into his shoulder, screams and laughs of pain and pleasure issuing from his carved smile. The way his Bat would hold his pulsing cock, fisting him as he was being taken, in more ways than one. That first time was the beginning of a great adventure, a grand performance, a sublime treat. He didn't know how long it would go on, nor did he care to think about it ending. If he could, they would tango like this forever—the Batman and the Joker, two of a kind, yin and yang, star-crossed lovers of the fierce kind.
All this crossed his mind during another of their sordid affairs, one of the rare times when he took the Bat, his Bat, to the throes with his wild, crushing moves. And he regretted, for the slowest and shortest of moments, not finding out who he was fucking, this masked man he loved insanely. Yet he kept going, kept pushing, kept up the banging, hoping one day he wouldn't be taken back to the loons, hoping one day they could forever do this dance. He wondered, briefly, if uncovering who his Bat really was would ensure that, if the knowledge would keep them all the closer together…