Warning: This is where the R rating comes in!

Title: Strip Poker

Chapter Completed: April 19, 2004

"Argh!" The Joker let out a groan of frustration, throwing the television remote at the screen. Which cracked and sparked with an electric surge before going black.

"There's just nothing good on TV anymore," he commented in a sing-song voice from his position sitting cross legged on one of the lumpy motel beds. He let out a string of twisted giggles at the pointless destruction before falling back on the bed in another groan of boredom. And he was bored. It had felt like days since he had been sprung from Arkham, even if barely a day, and still he had not had any fun. And a bored Joker was even more dangerous.

He turned his head to the side, the door to the bathroom falling into view. The crazed clown's eyes dazzled as he focused on the door to where Star had gone. A laugh played on his face, his beety eyes focused as he rolled off the bed toward the closed door.

* * *

Star switched off the steamy water, having washed the grim off from being on those dusty side roads. She stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped herself in the terry-robe before noticing how quiet it was. There wasn't even hysteric laughter bouncing around the motel walls. The new villain wasn't really sure if that was a good or bad thing. She honestly didn't know all that much about how the Joker worked. The only read up she had done on the Clown Prince of Crime told of his psychotic behaviour, and that really didn't say much. But that wasn't why she had picked him, she was attracted to their shared hatred. Although, she did take the lack of screaming as a good sign and proceeded to run the towel over her wet brown and purple hair.

Still, the lack of noise made her uneasy. Biting her bottom lip she opened the bathroom door slowly.

"Forget your rubber ducky?" the Joker stood right on the other side of the door, that look in his eyes and twisted grin.

Before the girl could react to the bizarre question he sprang; slamming her back against the wall.

Her head spun from the pain in her back and having the wind knocked completely from her body. All un-expectantly.

In Star's state of awe and daze she couldn't fight off when he pinned her against the tacky wallpaper with his lean body.

She felt panic in the back of her mind – the small part that was still Sara fighting for existence but too scared to push forward. No man had been this close to her since that night and Billy Young. She was about to freeze feeling the rumble of a laugh start in his chest and the hot breath spill across her face. But Star was too strong to allow that. She wouldn't be taken advantage of again. And she admittedly found the situation stimulating and exciting. Mentally pushing Sara to the back of her mind Star took full control. Star was there to protect Sara, and since she was there why not have some fun? She enjoyed being dominant in this body, finally.

Star's eyes flashed with dark light as she pushed back against the man in front of her. Hooking her one leg around the back of his knees, she toppled them down to the floor. Her still damp body landing squarely on his.

The Clown giggled – not one of joy but a dark amusement. "Forceful aren't we?" he glared up at the figure straddling his chest.

She leaned forward, leaning her arms across his chest, "Can be." Her pink mouth hovered over his ruby lips, a slight anticipation in their quiver and urgency in the grind of her hips.

His emerald eyes widened and his mouth twitched. His powder white hands grasped her hips, and his lithe body managed to flip her over in a sounding groan as her back hit the floor. He was now in the position of power with her shoulders pinned under his hands.

"I don't like that," with a raw force, of boredom or superiority or desire, it wasn't clear, he crushed her mouth with his.

The animalistic kiss of crushing lips and probing tongue was not easy. Star fought back with the same fierce power. Her own lips and tongue pushing against his. A moist-muscled war.

A slow moan escaped the clown as he pulled back to breathe. He panted.

"Well, maybe I do," Star smiled in a twisted style as she fought for her own breath.

The Joker smirked and let free a giggle – a thick, throaty laugh versus the light hearted insanity. He dove in again, forcing the wet, slick flesh back into her mouth. The muscle raked against her teeth, a copper tang touched both of them, but neither pulled away.

She dragged her hands up his sides, pulling the vibrant blue shirt from his purple pants. The strange colour combination making her own skin appear sickly pale. She began clawing at his sides, catching flesh with fabric. Small red lines marked his pale skin in her wake.

With a sudden force, Joker pushed her back against the floor, growling at the women beneath him. Then with gentle caution he undid his own shirt and carefully removed it. He treated the article of clothing like a priceless relic. The flippant changing in her personality was unsettling.

Star squirmed in her position pinned between his thighs, not liking the garment appreciation break. She huffed in frustration.

He clenched his legs, tightening the hold on her as the silk shirt was laid over on the floor. The wicked smile on his face was new, hungry. Quickly the terrycloth sash was removed, exposing the new villain to the clown.

In a haze, the Joker's eyes scanned over the naked flesh, followed by his hands. The pale hands began feeling out her soft, flushed flesh – white valleys and rosy mounds.

Her body went ridged for the split second before he licked the small space between her breasts. She melted into a moan.

It turned out the jester had far more tricks up his sleeves than originally suspected. He kissed and licked her skin, working his way down her squirming body. Tiny red bites and bruised skin marked the trail his mouth had taken. Turning the woman beneath him into a moaning mass. But he had yet to reach his apex.

Star's eyes shot open feeling a gust of hot breath across her bare thigh. She grabbed a handful of emerald curls, pulling his head up. She didn't trust that twisted grin between her legs.

"No tasting the wares Simple Simon," she panted.

The Joker began giggling uncontrollably at the mention of the nursery rhyme, falling backwards as the fit over took him.

Catching her breath, Star slowly pulled herself into sitting position to watch the lunacy. She rolled her eyes at the scene; the half-naked clown rolling back in laughter. Then, with the same suddenness that he had used on her, she pounced on him, pinning his body with hers.

"Are we going to continue?" her voice was throaty as she spoke over his mouth. "Don't make me get the rubber chicken," She warned, reaching down to grab his member through the purple pants.

He hissed at the tightening pressure, reacting the only way his body knew how. His hips bucked and she smiled with satisfaction. His excitement was evident from the hardened flesh still clamped in her hands.

Her tongue snaked out of her swollen mouth and ran along his throat. Another moan rumbled out of his mouth. Her death grip was relentless; her hand was like a vice to gain control over the man under her, squeezing and releasing at the right pressures.

"Enough!" he almost yelped, pushing Star off of him to make quick work of his pants. The purple slacks didn't receive the same sweet attention as the shirt had. The fly was quickly, yet carefully, opened and he squirmed out of the legs to be free, kicking the offending garment out of his way.

Star laughed as she watched the Joker struggle out of the last casing of his clothing. Squirming about on the floor like he was caught in a finger trap.

He glared at her, his breathing uneasy and, as only she could hear, his thoughts centred on one thing. He flew across the distance between them and tackled her. With no warning or hesitation he pushed deep inside of her as he landed.

She cried out as the Clown filled her folds, an unapologetic motion. It was fast and full and forceful. A fight, as she clawed against him with every movement.

Anyone listening would find the mix of breathing and laughter filtering out of the room strange. In fact, to the woman involved, the act was strange. A game of power, more than any intimate relation. A time to see who's hand held what.