"You are nothing, weak, childish little-" The Joker bites back a gasp as Batman reaches down to knock him around some more, lips bleeding, trying to stop Batman from ripping his clothes.
"Get away-mmf!" Batman slams his head onto the floor, and all he wants is to get away. Fight time with Batman seems to lose it's attractiveness. A sharp pain enters him and he can see Batman, moving on top of him, and suddenly Joker can't move, freezes in time as his foe defiles him.
"Just be a good little fuck toy, My clown."
The Joker chokes on a scream.
Opening his eyes, Joker looks around in the cell, wondering why is he not chained down, when he recalls that he is in Arkham.
"What the hell." He flops over and tries to sleep again, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is Batman standing over him, button in his hand and that goddamn collar around his neck.
By morning all the Joker had was a night of a few hours fitful sleep and no coffee, which is why he almost ripped the head of the doctor who told him that Bruce fucking Wayne wants to see him. Just thinking about the Batman makes him feel pissed off.
Wheeled to a room in a straight jacket, Joker rolls his eyes at the tense guards besides him, giving a nod to good ole' Dr Crane who passed next to him. He should take some time to get to know the guy better.
Wayne looks nervous. Joker glares at him.
"Please, no cameras." Bruce flashes the guards and doctors his best smile.
The guard nods. "If 'e does anything jus' press the button." He points to a red button on Bruce's side of the desk, as the other guards strapped the Joker to a chair."
"What do you want with me, Wayne?"
"I just want to see if you, are..." Batman trails off. How is he supposed to face the man who believes...what he believes?
The Joker sits, face stormy and tapping his feet against the ground. Against his better judgment, Bruce presses the button and lets himself out.
Three days later, Batman hears that the Joker has escaped and heads out, finding the clown slaughtering a group of mobsters in an abandoned warehouse.
"What are you doing." Batman feels outrage at the loss of human life, even if none of these men are anyone innocent.
The Joker freezes. "Why Brucie I'm jus' doing what I am good at."
Batman moves, and lands a punch on the Joker's face, but is kicked in the chest by a frantically moving leg. The Joker takes the opportunity and runs, as Batman catches up. A bullet grazes past his ear.
Joker turns, seeing Batman holding a gun and he curses, having dropped his knives and the dead mobster's weapons too far to reach. Batman grabs him hi his hands and forces the Joker down on his knees, pushing the gun against his temple.
Batman reaches to unclasp parts of his suit. "Don't move."
The Joker kneels, as still as he can be, mind whirling. No, he dosen't want to die like this, here in an unknown warehouse, Batman the last thing he sees. He wonders if this is how the people he killed feels, but all he can feel is numbness and pain, but not fear. Never fear. His knees and face is uncomfortably hot, and his body cold, back tinged with sweat. He is not supposed to die like this, by a gunshot instead of a fight.
I'm gonna die, he thinks, and regrets not putting on some face paint.
"Open your mouth." Batman says, gun cold against the Joker's temple, he does that, and Batman shove himself in, hand still firmly on the gun, other hand in the Joker's hair, pumping himself into scarred lips.
The Joker hopes that his body wouldn't show signs of defilement as he gagged and choked on Batman's length, his knees throbbing dully against the pavement.
Batman lets out a groan as the hot mouth of the clown covers him. He climaxes into his clown's mouth and pulls out, shoving the Joker on his back.
Dressing himself with one hand, Batman taunts.
The Joker watches impassively, in shock over what just occurred. "I love you." Batman pats his cheek and whispers, a sick parody. The drops the gun onto the floor and walks out.
The Joker rushes back to a nearby apartment, not noticing a black figure following him.
Batman catches sight of the Joker, and breaths a sigh of relief. He finds himself standing dumbly outside a warehouse, only to see the Joker rushing out of it. Following the clown back to a apartment, he sees the Joker brush his teeth and gulp water and mouth wash over and over again.
Rushing in, Batman catches the Joker by his shoulders. "You are going back to Arkham." Batman growls, turning to cuff the Joker.
"Arne't you gonna finish what you started?" The Joker mumbles. Batman frowns. "I saw you running out of a warehouse. Not very careful tonight." The Joker lunges at the Bat, who apparently has amnesia again.
"At least admit what you did!" The Joker slaps Batman in the face with a free hand, and is caught and cuffed again.
Batman knocks him out with a blow to the face. "Tell me what I did."
Bruce goes home that night, knowing that Gotham is safer. He would need to check out the warehouse again, but what the Joker said has him reeling. What did he mean?
Looks like Bruce Wayne needs to pay the Joker another visit, he mused, and freezes when he realises a familiar sticky feeling in his underwear. What the hell.
At Arkham Asylum, the Joker wakes yet again, cursing the Batman. Next time he needs to be more careful in his escapes, and in avoiding Batman.
Joker tosses in bed, not quite believing what just happened.
"I am a fucking wreck." He whispers to himself.
A/N: Dammit Bruce I am starting to dislike him more and more, at least in this fic. Mr J needs a hug. :)
