Too much structure can either make or break a person. Joker/Bruce pairing. TDK universe. Oneshot.
A Matter of Chaos
"S-Stop it," groaned a weak voice, gasping desperately for air. "This is low. Even for you."
It was funny…
How the billionaire playboy was asking, pleading for him to stop, yet at the same time using those muscular arms to hold him closer.
There was a shifting sound, someone getting situated. Someone getting shoved against a wall. Someone sliding limply against the wall. There was a slight bumping of an elbow against cherry wood. Shit! The lamp--
Crash!
"I'm not paying for that."
Someone let out a laugh- it came out as an unstable, wheezing sort of sound. Not mirthful, not really. It wasn't the playboy that had laughed though- he didn't laugh. Not anymore.
"I suppose this is a little… unfair," he conceded through an obscuring smile, readjusting himself, "for me. I mean, you aren't even putting up a fight! You could at least beg a little…"
Bruce Wayne's head tilted back, eyes screwing tightly shut as hips ground down his, gyrating in an extremely lewd manner.
"P-please…" Bruce whispered, hands winding around the Joker's torso. He gripped at the heavy cloth there, fisting it until his knuckles were a painful white. "Stop..."
'Pull close or push away? What kind of fucked up tug-of-war is this?'
The Joker found the scene itself to be quite the turn-on. Who knew the man behind the mask would be so easy to conquer? Is this what became of men who had nothing left to live for?
Yes.
The Joker had been the same way, at one point in time. Where nothing in life seemed to matter. It was a glorious state, really. But Wayne had made the mistake of trying to remain calm and collected throughout the experience. After all, one can't be broken and put together at the same time...
Bruce drew in his bottom lip, holding in whatever sound was building in his throat.
It had been so long since he'd felt something so intense. Something other than that all-too-familiar burning hatred licking at the insides of his chest. Whatever it was within him… needed release. It relentlessly scratched at his insides, wanting out.
Kohl-darkened eyes peered down at him knowingly.
"C'mon, Wayne. I know you have the power to throw me off of you. You don't have all of these wonderfully built muscles for nothing…" The Joker's scarred lips twisted into a sinister grin as he bore down upon the other once more, pressing his hips impossibly closer to Bruce's. "Make me stop."
The dark-haired scion's breath trembled like a leaf in the wind, pleasure seizing his abdomen and surging through every vein in his body, emanating from his very pores. God, he couldn't hold it in-
"Nnn."
A rather… inarticulate reply, the Joker thought to himself amusedly, sweat beading at his brow. He was wearing too many goddamn layers.
Time to deposit the trench coat.
Off it went, the heavy purple cloth, crumpled and tossed unceremoniously to the floor. Next came the tie- it was loosened, then pulled off all together. God, it was so hot!
He peeled off his gloves and tossed those aside, too. He wanted to be able to feel the man's skin beneath his fingertips, note each tremor and feel the muscles contort under his touch...
The olive-haired man's smile grew impossibly larger- he hungrily licked his lips at the sight of Bruce Wayne's prone form: shirtless and exposed in a way that he was sure he was the only one to see. The vulnerable side hidden behind a cape and cowl, twisted and writhing with a pleasure-pain that only one of his disposition could inflict.
Seeing him in ecstasy was as good as, if not better than, watching him suffer.
"But I suppose… the proper question would be... do you want me to stop?" The white-faced man continued, lips finding Bruce's throat and licking at the pale skin there. "I understand, Wayne… I really do. And that's why I'm doing this. Because we both know…"
An un-gloved hand reached for a zipper, pulling it slowly down. The sound was impossibly loud to Bruce's ears, ricocheting in his skull like a high-pitched train whistle, wailing and out of control…
A laugh bubbled up inside of the Joker. Batman was a creature of structure; he'd known from the first moment they met. But Bruce Wayne... he was just a person. And too much structure could either make or break a person, in the end. Too much of anything could, really. What the Joker was doing was simply adding the counter-weight. Restoring the natural order. In his own special way, he was doing Wayne a favor.
"We both know that you need this… this little bit of chaos."
Fin
A/n: Very random.
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