I don't really have any excuse for this other than finding the most amazing Joker cosplay picture on Google (looky looky: post/151234657734/i-dont-know-who-this-person-is-but-this-is) and deciding to come up with some way of including it in a story.
I'm warning everyone now that, not only is this my first attempt at writing Batjokes, but it's also my first time writing detailed smut and I blame frenetic-kinetic entirely for encouraging me. She's a terrible influence on me!
Wood creaked beneath heavy boots, as Batman ascended an old wooden staircase, silently cursing the entire city's police force for the millionth time. Anonymous tips were always tricky and, normally, they were Commissioner Gordon's department, but, recently, the tips filtering through the GCPD had forged a habit of becoming very reliable. A little too reliable in Bruce's opinion, although he never voiced it. Whatever his suspicions, they had led to the successful arrest of five members of a newly formed gang, seeking to wreak havoc across Gotham. Now, only one member remained at large and it was due to another of those tips that Batman had been dispatched to fly to the outer edges of the city's suburbs, to an old abandoned house, where the crook was supposed to have been spotted several times in the past week.
Bruce had arrived twenty minutes ago and, if anyone was here, they'd certainly managed to find themselves a good hiding spot. The entire ground floor was devoid of life, save for the mould growing on the walls and the leftover food occupying the refrigerator. The vigilante had a sneaking suspicion that a sweep of the second floor would prove just as futile, but, despite his assertions, Batman was nothing, if not thorough.
The second floor consisted of three rooms. One was a small bathroom that didn't appear to have been used any time recently, until Bruce spied the objects scattered about the edge of the sink. Closer inspection revealed them to be various forms of makeup, which made the vigilante frown. All the members of the gang had been reported as male, as far as he could recall and he was sure the tip had said they'd seen a man entering this house. Unless it was a disguise, maybe? Despite the confusion, the makeup proved that, at the very least, someone had been here and very recently, if the newness of the packaging was anything to go by.
With renewed interest in the endeavour, Bruce continued his sweep of the other rooms. The first bedroom was as empty as the rest of the house, which meant that there was only one place left for anyone to hide.
With a firm grip on the door handle, Bruce entered the second bedroom and found…nothing. Literally nothing. The room was completely bare, save for a wooden chair in the centre and a table by the window. There were no furnishings of any kind, not even carpet or curtains and it left Bruce wondering why it would have been set up this way.
As his eyes took in his surroundings, the whine of door hinges had him spinning around. The door of the bedroom-if it could even be classed as such, anymore- closed, revealing a tall figure leaning against the wall, one hand tucked into the pocket of a full-length coat, the other responsible for closing the door. With the dim amber of streetlights the only available source of illumination, it was hard to distinguish any of the stranger's features, as they lingered in the shadows.
"Show yourself," Bruce demanded. The stranger didn't look especially dangerous, but their demeanour carried an air of confidence that made him wary.
There was a giggle and, before the stranger even finished their step forward, Bruce knew exactly who they were. His typical vigilance was replaced with the cold, sharp awareness that immediately seized him, whenever his eyes took in the form of his long-term nemesis.
"Joker," he said, not even bothering to hide his irritation. So, not only was this tip an absolute waste of time, it had clearly been a ruse for the madman to enact whatever new, terrible scheme his warped mind had concocted. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you," the clown replied, voice saccharine sweet, as he took a second step forward.
Bruce's stance turned defensive, his fists curling, ready for attack, but Joker held his hands up in surrender and immediately retraced his second step.
"Ah-ah-ah," Joker said, holding up a gloved finger. "No fisticuffs, if you please. I've put a lot of effort into this evening-" His hand travelled downwards, before coming back up. "-which you would see, if you'd cared to look, and I'd hate for it to go to waste."
Bruce frowned, but remained where he was, as his eyes gave the clown a quick once-over. He began at the feet and his blue eyes widened to discover the Joker was wearing a pair of glossy heels.
"Like them?" Joker asked, twisting his left ankle to give his companion a better view of the shoe. "I should hope so; I got them for you, after all and they were very expensive."
Bruce ignored the comment and the chuckles following, as his gaze moved upwards. In comparison to the footwear, the coat covering the clown's body was perfectly normal, although the black was a far cry from his usual colour palette. When Bruce's eyes reached Joker's face, however, the vigilante finally realised what he'd meant by making an effort. Green, chin-length hair-it must have grown, since his last stay at Arkham, Bruce realised-was curled and perfectly coiffed into a style befitting the Hollywood starlets of old and his usual makeup had been adjusted, trading the nightmarish slash of crimson for a ruby pout and heavy shadows around the eyes for a design far more elegant and graceful. Delicate blush darkened each cheek and, when combined, the look resembled something that wouldn't have looked out of place in a modern fashion magazine.
The poor lighting meant that the Joker's garish colouring was toned down to something far more monochromatic and the entire look left him resembling a macabre Marilyn Monroe. Not until the word beautiful entered his mind, did Bruce realised he'd been openly staring.
"You approve?" Joker asked, his voice soft and low, as a smile curved those immaculately painted lips. Both hands were in his pockets and he crossed his ankles, resulting in a pose that would have made Marlene Dietrich proud.
"What do you want?" Bruce demanded, his fists still clenched, as he ignored the way it had got a little harder to breath.
Joker's eyes swivelled sideways and he pursed his lips, as a finger rested against his chin in mock contemplation. "Just the usual. Death, destruction and chaos…and a pony!" he chuckled, before his hand returned to the coat pocket and he tilted his head coquettishly. "Oh, and you…on that chair-" He nodded to the seat behind Bruce, before his grin widened. "-wearing these."
There was a metallic rattle, as Joker pulled an item from each pocket. Bruce's body tensed and, although it wasn't a weapon dangling off the end of each index finger, the vigilante's body didn't relax in the slightest. His pulse started to race, as he watched the handcuffs gently swing back and forth.
Despite the apprehension running through his veins, Bruce couldn't keep himself from asking the question. "Why?"
Joker didn't reply right away, instead letting his gaze bore into the man opposite for a long moment, as the smile shrank a little. "We've been doing this for a while, you and me," he finally replied, eyes falling to the ground, as he made his way over to the table. The sound of sharp heels connecting with solid wood echoed throughout the room. "And it's been fun and all, but, lately, I can't help feeling that we've been getting stuck into something of a rut." The handcuffs were placed upon the table, before Joker's eyes returned to the vigilante. "At least, I thought we were," he continued, with a smirk. "Until our last little rendezvous."
Bruce's eyes narrowed, unfortunately all too aware of what the clown meant. The last time he and Joker had met, they had engaged in one of their most brutal fights yet, until…
Bruce pushed the memory aside.
"Of course, you ruined it all by throwing me back into Arkham, but my spell in the loony bin did give me plenty of time to mull things over." Joker looked down once again, as his hands began to untie the belt cinching his waist. "You see, it's never been a secret how I feel about you." Purple fingers began to work on the buttons running down the centre of his coat. "I've made my sentiments quite clear on a number of occasions." Joker looked up and winked. "But, working out what's going on in that batty little brain of yours has always been a bit more challenging."
The buttons came undone at a steady pace, one at a time and Bruce watched the process with more fascination than he should. Either Joker was unaware of the vigilante's scrutiny, or he simply didn't care to acknowledge it, because the clown continued talking in a maddeningly conversational, yet still somewhat suggestive manner.
"You've always been the stoic type, preferring to let your fists do the talking, so, of course, you can imagine my surprise when, during our last fight, I closed my eyes, expecting another blissful right hook to the jaw, only to end up getting…" Joker paused for dramatic effect. "A kiss?"
Bruce's eyes immediately ducked, as the memory returned and he felt his cheeks heat with shame. It had been a mistake, an inexplicable spur-of-the-moment impulse that he'd been unable to explain and had refused to dwell upon afterwards. He couldn't escape it in his sleep, though and when news of the Joker's latest escape reached his ears, it had left a knot in his stomach for entirely different reasons than usual.
Joker took a step towards him, eyes never leaving Bruce's face.
"Now, it's rather unfair of you to change the rules of our little game without telling me," the clown chided with a giggle and an accusatory wag of his finger. He moved forward again. "But never let it be said that I'm not a quick learner." Another step. "And if you're going to start changing the rules…"
Joker stopped less than a foot away from Bruce, the smirk still plastered across his lips, green eyes glittering, as they gazed into blue. With a quick shrug of the shoulders, the coat slipped off, landing at Joker's feet in a dark puddle. "Then so am I."
Bruce's jaw dropped.
Whatever he'd expected to be concealed by the coat couldn't have been further from the reality currently facing him and Bruce couldn't have looked away, even if he wanted to. The Joker was stood before him, clad in a purple suit jacket and green silk shirt, both open to reveal a torso wrapped in a skin tight black bodice and skimpy black lace knickers covering his lower half. On his long legs were purple stockings, finishing mid-thigh, edged with yet more lace. Combined with the flawless makeup and hair and those damned heels, it showed a side of the Joker Bruce had never even imagined was possible…and it made his stomach flip.
It was wrong, Bruce told himself, so very, completely wrong. Everything about it was ridiculous and bizarre and wrong, very wrong and…
Bruce couldn't look away. His pulse was hammering now and his mouth had started to go dry. The palms of his hands, still clenched at his sides, were growing moist and, no matter how many times he tried to remind himself of how wrong, wrong, wrong this scenario was, his body was telling him something very different. There was hardly any room between the two men now and Bruce found himself rooted to the spot.
"Does Batsy like what he sees?" Joker asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as it escaped that infuriating, smiling mouth. "Methinks he does."
He leaned forward slightly and a tongue slid out, running along Bruce's jaw, stopping at his chin. The vigilante's head jerked back and his eyes widened in panic. Taking a step back, Bruce cleared his throat, before speaking.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I already told you," Joker replied calmly.
"Why?"
An arched eyebrow lifted. "Because I think you want this just as much as me, but you're too afraid to ask."
Bruce glowered and, instead of even bothering to deny it, he spat out another question. "And if I refuse?"
Joker shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Nothing."
Bruce frowned, having expected a very different answer and scepticism laced his tone. "Nothing?"
"That's right," Joker confirmed. "You go out that door, we go our separate ways and pretend that this never happened."
Bruce's gaze narrowed and his growl deepened. "There's a trick, there always is."
The smile fell from the clown's lips and he shook his head. "Nope, not this time. No tricks, no games. Just you, me, that chair and those handcuffs. A one-time offer that I am giving to you and you alone. All you have to do is take it."
"You're offering me a choice?" Bruce queried in disbelief. He was tempted to pinch himself, just to check he wasn't in the midst of some wacky dream. It didn't immediately register that he'd used the word dream, rather than nightmare until much later.
"Of course," Joker confirmed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It'd be no fun if I had to force myself upon you. I know you'll give a much better-ahem-performance if you're enjoying yourself, too. I want our first time to be memorable for all the right reasons."
Joker waggled his eyebrows suggestively, as Bruce stared, utterly dumbfounded, the full weight of the situation crashing upon him. Batman was stood in the middle of a room, with a Joker clad in women's lingerie, who wanted to handcuff him to a chair and…do what? He couldn't even begin to fathom the implications of Joker's offer, but the suspicion bred from years of experience couldn't be easily swayed.
"How do I know you're not lying?" Bruce asked, with a voice far steadier than he'd expected it to be. "If I leave, you could do anything, hurt anyone simply out of spite."
Joker's face took on an expression of mock solemnity and he nodded slowly. "I could," he said, before closing the space between them once again. Purple fingers reached out and rested lightly on armoured wrists, before tapping a slow path up towards Bruce's shoulders, impossibly green eyes following the movement. "But, I'd hope that, if Batman was ever going to take a leap of faith, it might be during the one time I dabble in honesty."
Bruce didn't even bother trying to question why he hadn't immediately pushed the clown away, his attention taken up by the way those long fingers kept drumming gently against his arms, shoulders and chest. Could he do it? Joker was offering himself on a plate and leaving the decision entirely in Bruce's hands-or so he said. It could still all be complete bullshit, but Bruce also knew that, if the clown had any kind of leverage, he'd never hesitate to use it if there was a chance things weren't going his way.
And what if Bruce did say yes? What then? How could the Batman possibly defend such an act, holding himself up as a pillar of justice and righteousness, if he ended up doing God-knows-what with one of the city's most notorious criminals? Joker could easily use this against him and, even if he didn't, Bruce was sure that things would irrevocably change, that they'd never go back to the way they were before.
But, would that be such a bad thing? What if there was a way to use this as an opportunity to do some good? Beating the Hell out of the clown had never managed to subdue him. If anything, it only spurred the madman on, so what if a new tactic was needed? To call it a novel way of fighting crime was the most ridiculous understatement of the century, but then Batman didn't exactly do things by the book, although this was more like taking the book and throwing into a bonfire!
Of course, to throw a spanner in the works, that small, secret part of Bruce that he'd always tried to ignore, that wondered whether there was any genuine feeling beneath the clown's relentless flirting, spoke up. It told him to quit making excuses and come to a damn decision. Bruce would have told it that the decision wasn't exactly an easy one to make, but knew it'd never listen. It was, after all, that stupid little part of his mind that was responsible for getting him into this whole mess in the first place.
Throughout Bruce's internal monologue, Joker's hands had started to slide up his neck, allowing thumbs to run slowly back and forth along his jawline. Their noses were close enough to touch and only precious inches kept their lips apart. The proximity only served to make Bruce's inner quandary that much harder.
"So," Joker breathed, warm air brushing against Bruce's lips. "What'll it be? The door, or the chair?"
The clown was obviously done with waiting and Bruce knew his answer would have to come sooner or later. Stay or go. Door or chair. Go home alone, or spend the night with a man looking far more delectable than any sane man would have considered him to be.
Bruce swallowed and briefly closed his eyes. The blood rushing around his body was deafening in his ears and his heart thudded wildly against his chest, but the fact that he was still stood there told him everything. When he opened them, his decision was made.
Ensnared by blue eyes possessing a fiery determination, Joker watched as Bruce took slow and deliberate steps backwards, before carefully sitting in the chair, his arms lying loosely on the thin armrests. The clown's entire face lit up, like a child witnessing Christmas for the very first time and a breathless laugh of excitement fell from his lips, before he quickly turned and retrieved the handcuffs from the table, as well as rummaging through the bundle of cloth on the floor, to pluck a couple more items from the pockets. Bruce didn't see what they were and didn't bother to ask, too busy refereeing the war within his mind between the desire to flee and anticipation for what was to come.
Joker returned and placed the two unknown items on the floor beside the chair, before standing directly in front of the sitting vigilante. For a moment he did nothing more than stare, biting his bottom lip as a flare of hunger blazed in his eyes. Then, with a quick shake of his head, the clown returned to himself and proceeded to secure his prey. The cuffs snapped shut around Bruce's wrists and the vigilante knew there was no turning back, now. It was time to throw all hesitation aside and simply let this play out. His palms grew sweatier.
Hastily kicking off his shoes, Joker carefully straddled Bruce's lap and placed his hands on the vigilante's shoulders, using them as leverage to slowly slide himself up Bruce's thighs until their chests almost touched. Holding the cowled face in his hands, he started gently tilting it this way and that, offering it the sort of careful examination an antiques dealer would offer a priceless piece of china. Those green eyes were practically glowing and Bruce wasn't sure how to describe his feelings at being the one responsible.
"Hmm," Joker purred. "All the things I could do to you."
Bruce swallowed the dry lump in his throat as a tongue came out to taste him a second time, this time commencing from where it left off, languorously running from his chin, travelling over Bruce's lips and finishing at the tip of his nose. "But where to begin?"
The question was rhetorical, but, even if Bruce had been required to answer, the ability of speech was beyond his grasp. Joker slowly brought their lips together in a soft, lingering kiss and Bruce froze, his mind momentarily whiting out as it remembered the feel of that mouth against his. All too soon, those lips left his and Joker leaned back, something akin to genuine concern lining his features.
"Baby, baby, baby," he cooed in a voice so warm and syrupy that Bruce struggled against the impulse to close his eyes. "You need to relax." Thumbs stroked circles into the vigilante's exposed skin. "Would it help if you pretended I'm someone else for now?"
For a moment, Bruce considered it, he really, really did. But, seeing Joker like this, doing things like that...no, the image was burnt indelibly into his mind. He couldn't have imagined the clown to be anyone else and, if entirely honest with himself, Bruce didn't want to. Besides, it would have been cheating. Joker had come here and set this all up, but left the choice entirely in Bruce's hands. As the clown had said, nobody was going to be forced into doing anything, so it was only fair that, by agreeing to do this, he committed fully.
He shook his head in response to Joker's query.
"Alright," the clown said in response, his thumbs still moving. "We'll go slowly, then, shall we?"
Joker leaned forward again and his tongue slithered out between his teeth, the tip pressing against the spot where cowl met skin. The connection was gentle, but, to Bruce, it felt like a being struck by lightning. His eyes closed as it began at the left cheekbone, travelling along the entire rim of the mask, under the nose, sliding down the right side of Bruce's face, slowly running beneath the chin, before returning to where it had started. Then, the tongue moved along the hollow of the cheek, to land at the corner of Bruce's lips. Joker made two small circles, before the tongue retreated to be replaced with a kiss. It was no more than a lingering peck, coming back twice, before the tongue made its presence known yet again, tracing the curve of the vigilante's cupid's bow.
Nerves ablaze, his mind lost to the teasing ministrations of the man on his lap, Bruce didn't hesitate to open his mouth when the Joker licked along his bottom lip and their mouths met in a kiss possessing more tenderness than he'd expected either of them capable of. It was achingly slow, but growing deeper by the second, as their tongues sought one another and Bruce tried to categorise the different flavours meeting his taste buds. The most prominent was peppermint, clean and refreshing, but, beneath that, refusing to be subdued was something else, something unidentifiable, yet unmistakably Joker. It was what he had gotten a hint of the last time they kissed, that taste of danger, as well as all that was supposed to be forbidden.
Except it wasn't forbidden any longer and, the more Bruce got, the more he found himself wanting it. The movement of their mouths increased in speed and, as Bruce's tongue delved deeper, he felt a soft moan climb up the Joker's throat. On instinct, his hands moved, wanting to hold the body making that sound, but the cut of metal against his gloves reminded him of his submissive position.
A giggle filtered into the kiss and Joker pulled back just a little. Both men were breathing heavily and, opening his eyes, Bruce saw the clown watching him with a triumphant grin on his face. The lipstick that had been expertly applied was now smudged, starting to once again resemble its more common application and, if he'd had a mirror, the vigilante would have seen his own mouth in a similar state.
"That's more like it," Joker remarked breathlessly, his tongue darting out to run along his lips.
Bruce watched that tongue like a hawk, before his head darted forward and he captured the clown's mouth once again. Joker gasped in surprise, before immediately kissing back, but, whereas the first had been slow and careful, this kiss was fuelled by need and a hunger starting to grow between them. Teeth, tongues and lips clashed, as the men began a battle for dominance that was far more reminiscent of their usual interactions. Joker's arms tightened their grip around the vigilante's neck and his body started moving against him. Bruce's arms stirred again and the frustration at his lack of mobility seeped into his actions, making him kiss harder, teeth nipping and lips sucking.
The noises coming from the clown were beginning to grow louder and more obscene and they spurred Bruce on. If Joker wanted the vigilante to enjoy himself, well that's exactly what he was going to do. He could feel the desire curling in his belly and, when Joker pulled back again, Bruce couldn't restrain the soft growl that escaped him. His bottom lip was taken by Joker's teeth and gently tugged, before a grin spread across the clown's mouth that was nothing short of sinful.
Joker's right arm retreated from around Bruce's neck, before a purple hand slowly slid down an armoured chest, to rest at the buckle of the belt encircling the vigilante's waist. After a quick drum of fingers against the metal, the hand continued its journey, before coming to rest at his crotch.
"Darling," Joker said, his voice low and husky. "Be an angel and tell me how this opens up."
Bruce levelled his gaze at the other man. "If you uncuff me, I could do it myself."
Joker's grin grew even wider and he bit his lip, before placing several quick kisses to Bruce's mouth. "Patience, Dear," he sing-songed.
Bruce quickly relented and offered instructions, each word interrupted with a kiss from the clown. It seemed as though, now that Joker had been given a taste, he was unable to get enough and Bruce couldn't summon it within himself to complain. In no time at all, deft fingers were removing the plate of armour, tossing it carelessly to the floor, before the gloved palm returned to the now unprotected area.
Bruce's gasp at the sudden sensation of the Joker palming him was swallowed by yet another meeting of their lips and, combined with the feel of that devilish tongue massaging his, the vigilante grew hard very quickly.
"Oh," Joker giggled. "I think daddy's ready to come out and play!"
Much to Bruce's frustration, the hand left his crotch and went to the Joker's mouth, before his teeth seized the tip of the middle finger and, with a tug, the glove was removed. It joined the armour already littering the floor. Bare skin met Bruce's cheek for the first time and he felt how cool the clown's temperature was. The fingers trailed along his jaw, before reaching his mouth.
"My hands are a bit cold," Joker said, with a pout that would put a supermodel to shame. "Think you can warm them up for me?"
Bruce didn't hesitate to open his mouth and let two pale fingers slide in. Joker watched as the vigilante took them in almost up to the knuckle, before tightening his lips around them and starting to suck. Bruce's tongue started stroking, paying each digit the utmost attention and it was with great satisfaction that he saw Joker's eyelids grow heavy, as his stained lips parted. The smile was gone, replaced with an expression of smouldering want and his breathing grew heavy.
When the fingers slowly withdrew, Bruce moved his attention to the ring and pinkie fingers and Joker was almost panting by the end of it. It soon grew too much for the clown and he snatched his hand away, before claiming Bruce's mouth again in a bruising assault. The attack was met head-on by the other, until the feel of fingers diving into underwear and closing around him made Bruce falter. Joker's palm tightened just a little, before it started to move slowly back and forth in a steady, coaxing rhythm. Bruce's eyes were closed and he tried so very hard to focus on letting oxygen enter his lungs, but the way those fingers were moving over him, as teeth grazed his chin was too much and he let his head loll forwards, to rest in the crook of Joker's neck.
The heat curling in his belly grew, a coil of arousal starting to tighten, as his heavy breaths ghosted over the pale skin of Joker's throat. Without conscious thought, his mouth closed over the soft skin, his tongue wetting it, before teeth started grazing. The clown purred in approval and he started to pump faster, rocking his hips in time with his hand, making Bruce bite harder. It was becoming a vicious cycle that would have a very delicious outcome.
That ending wasn't far away, as the breathing was interspersed with grunts and moans and Bruce really, really wished he wasn't cuffed to the chair. His hands were itching to grab, to do something, anything, that would make the man in his lip offer the same noises being pumped out of him. The heat grew and that coil wound tighter, until Bruce was able to do no more than simply pant into Joker's neck. It wasn't going to be long now and his hands gripped the edges of the armrests, anticipation and excitement almost reaching a crescendo.
But, just as that moment was about to arrive, Joker's hand let go and withdrew, before the clown leaned back to study the addled man before him.
"Wha-"
Bruce's protest was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips.
"Shh, shh, shh," Joker whispered. "Not yet, Darling, not yet."
After another kiss, this time wet and sloppy, Joker slowly slid off of Bruce's lap and lowered himself to his knees. Blue eyes locked with green and the expression on the clown's face was nothing short of wicked. Bruce knew what was to come and his assumptions were confirmed, when he was carefully freed from the confines of his underwear and Joker started pumping once more.
When that tongue emerged again to start tracing patterns around his tip, Bruce let out a choked gasp, but it was nothing compared to what came next. Joker's hand slid backwards and cupped his balls, before those crimson lips enveloped him and Bruce's eyes widened, as his mouth fell open. He felt the pressure increase, as Joker started to suck and Bruce's head fell back, as his eyes rolled and he let out a curse.
Every single one of Bruce's nerve endings was ablaze, and the fire in his belly was steadily growing into an inferno, as that clever mouth devoured and fingers caressed him in ways he'd never imagined. The sounds leaving him were wanton and he couldn't even care how loud they were, because being sucked off by the Joker just felt far too good. Had sense not abandoned him, the vigilante would have tried to argue that it shouldn't feel this way, that he shouldn't be enjoying this, that it was wrong and disgusting, but his mind was too far gone. There was no way to deny how it felt, his body unwilling to ignore what was happening. The knot in his stomach tightened even more and his hands struggled against the restraints, as the pressure built to unbearable levels. He wanted to…he needed to…
With a cry, Bruce came, as his back arched and his hands clenched into tight fists, the fingers wishing they could feel something other than the fabric of his gloves. Joker didn't stop, until he milked every last drop out of Bruce, swallowing it all with hungry gulps that should have repelled, but only further encouraged the vigilante's desire. Bruce's chest heaved with every deep breath he took and his body trembled with aftershocks, as Joker's mouth carefully released him.
It was with dim awareness that he felt the clown climb back onto his lap, before hands levered his heavy face upright again. The kiss that followed was lazy, messy and the taste of himself didn't prevent Bruce from letting his tongue explore that damn mouth. Joker was purring again, his entire body seeming to hum with pleasure at the reactions he was getting from his precious bat.
"Oh, you," he murmured between kisses. "Are just too-" Kiss. "-damn-" Kiss. "-delicious!"
Their lips continued to meet and it was a long time before either came back up for air. Joker's hands were all over Bruce, caressing his face, sliding up and down his neck, shoulders and arms, running along the symbol emblazoned across his chest. He was like an addict given an infinite supply of his favourite drug, unable to contain the excitement of his intoxication.
Joker let out a deep growl, before finally parting their mouths and his feverish gaze raked over the man before him. He ran his fingers through his hair, dishevelling the perfection, as his tongue twitched across his swollen lips. His breathing was erratic and Bruce briefly wondered if Joker was about to combust. With the sudden grace of a cat, the clown leapt off Bruce and reached for one of the objects he'd placed on the floor. When he returned, Bruce looked down to see a small bottle of lube clutched in his gloveless hand. The other purple glove was yanked off impatiently, before the lid of the bottle popped open.
Bruce's throat went dry again, as Joker spread the translucent liquid liberally over his fingers, letting the bottle fall carelessly between them. When Joker's gaze finally met his, Bruce was offered a cheeky grin, before the clown wiggled glistening fingers and quirked an eyebrow.
"My turn," he said, before hooking his left arm around Bruce's neck and tucking the other behind his own back.
The clown's form lifted off the vigilante's lap for a moment and his back arched, before sinking back down. Bruce wondered for a moment what was happening, until he saw the clown's eyes glaze over, as he chewed his bottom lip.
Oh, God, not that, Bruce thought. Anything but that.
If being restrained a hardship before, it became unbearable now. There was no way he could sit there, with the Joker straddling his lap and watch the clown finger himself, without being able to do a damn fucking thing about it. His penis, still soft and sensitive from the hand and blow jobs it had just received, twitched in response to the show being put on for him. Their foreheads were pressed together and, what had started out as endless quick, clumsy kisses, soon became nothing more than panting into one another's mouths.
Bruce's arms continued to rebel against the handcuffs and he was ready to break the chair if necessary, just to get free, not caring about the damage he would do to himself if he tried. He wanted to be free, to be able to put his hands on the man giggling and moaning in his lap. Joker appeared unaware of Bruce's dilemma, far too preoccupied with himself, until the sounds of metal clashing against wood reached his ears.
The grin that Bruce had once wanted to remove with a fist, but now wanted to devour with his mouth, spread across Joker's face, as his lustful gaze met the man struggling beneath him.
"S-something wrong…Dear?" he asked, words catching on the gasps he elicited from himself.
"Uncuff me," Bruce demanded with a kiss.
Joker pulled away. "And why…would I want to do-" His breath hitched, having hit a particularly sensitive spot. "-that?"
Bruce replied with a deep, guttural growl. "Because I'll make it worth your while."
That tone immediately froze the Joker and his eyes quickly gained focus, travelling the expanse of the vigilante's face. It was the clown's turn for his throat to go dry and Bruce saw a deep craving radiate from those green orbs. Infuriatingly, he didn't move, though.
"Please," Bruce offered and the clown seemed to unravel at the sight of the Batman practically begging. Eyes wide, he nodded and lifted himself, pulling his fingers out, before leaning over to where the other item waited patiently on the floor. Bruce sincerely hoped it was the key.
Still straddling Bruce's lap and impatiently pushing hair away from his eyes, Joker set about unlocking the cuffs that had held his bat in place. The second both his arms were free, Bruce lunged, one arm wrapping around Joker's waist, as he sent the pair of them to the floor. Their landing was somewhat broken by Bruce's free hand, but it didn't stop a rush of air leaving Joker's lungs, as his back slammed against the floorboards. Bruce was beyond caring, though, as he immediately hooked his fingers around the waistband of those ridiculous lace panties and tore them off the clown's body.
After allowing a second to line himself up, Bruce entered the Joker in one sharp thrust. The clown's back arched, his hands gripping the other man's biceps, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The room was filled with the gasps, cries and grunts of the two men, as the bat relentlessly pushed into the clown, one hand snaking into green tresses and yanking hard, to expose that long, white throat. He bit down into the flesh and Joker's spine curved even more, his legs wrapping tightly around Bruce in encouragement, finding that perfect angle which would allow the vigilante to plunge in even deeper. When a hand wrapped around his erection and started stroking, the clown almost screamed, before his hand came up for him to bite, if only to alleviate some of the immense pressure.
Releasing the hair, Bruce pushed Joker's hand out of the way and crashed their lips together. He swallowed every single one of the cries of ecstasy that left the madman and, as the vigilante felt that heat building up inside him once again, his pace quickened and the thrusts became harder, as he desperately raced towards that blissful release.
Joker was clinging to him desperately and it was with a strangled shout that he finally came, body convulsing around the man inside him, head thrown back and fist gripping the other man's cape as if his life depended on it. Bruce wasn't far behind, his cries muffled by Joker's neck, as he spilled himself into the clown, before his spent body collapsed atop him.
For a few long moments, the pair didn't move. Their hearts were moving at a thunderous pace, their chests heaving with the effort of breathing and their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of orgasm. Once certain he wasn't about to have a heart attack, Bruce mustered the last of his strength and levered himself up a little, before rolling onto his back.
It was a while before either man was able to breathe normally again and, for a few minutes, silence hung in the air. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable, either and it left Bruce wondering what would happen next, what path this unexpected turn of events would lead them down. Then, the sound of laughter met his ears and, turning his head sideways, he saw Joker's eyes squeezed shut, as his face creased with amusement. It wasn't the maniacal noise that usually escaped those terrible lips, but a far more genuine sound and within moments, Bruce found himself laughing, too. It wasn't long before the pair was in fits of giggles and joker rolled onto his side, arms wrapping around his middle, as he struggled to speak through the mirth.
"That…has to be…the most ridiculous thing…we've ever done!" the clown exclaimed, eyes watering.
Bruce didn't bother to reply, still too busy laughing.
Eventually, the hilarity subsided and the pair set about making themselves presentable once again. For Bruce, this consisted only of having to reattach the plate of armour that preserved his modesty. Joker required a little more effort, but it wasn't long before he was once again wrapped with the confines of a black coat, although his hair and makeup were a far cry from the polished perfection of before. Bruce took a moment to watch the clown, as he dropped one of the handcuffs back into his pocket and it startled him to realise he preferred the madman in his current dishevelled state, knowing he had been the one responsible for it.
He really was doomed.
Clutching shoes in one hand and the second pair of handcuffs in the other, Joker sauntered over to Bruce and placed the metal rings into his hand. The vigilante frowned, but it was met with a smile.
"A memento," Joker chuckled, before sliding his free hand to the back of Bruce's neck and pulling the armour-clad man in for a final kiss.
It was deep and languorous and Bruce didn't even consider resisting, simply wrapping his arms around the thin man's waist and letting his lips move. With a nibble of the vigilante's bottom lip, Joker eventually pulled away and headed for the door. Opening it, he looked over his shoulder at Bruce.
"Until next time," he winked, before exiting the room, letting the door shut behind him.
It wasn't until leaving the house that Bruce wondered whether the Joker had been responsible for the other tip-offs regarding the gang, and he made a mental note to ask the next time he faced the clown.
Which he absolutely wasn't looking forward to in any way whatsoever.
Not at all.
Honest.