Team Anarchy - Round 5 - Fic: Masks
Title: Masks
Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Prompt: "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." -Oscar Wilde
Pairing: Batman/Joker.
Fandom: Nolanverse (influenced by others too)
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, suing is futile!
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex, blood, violence and angst
Summary: Each man plays a part that lets him be who he really is…
Word Count: 506
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
The Joker’s painted visage is just as much a mask as the Batman’s cowl.
Greasepaint and smeared lipstick do not conceal, but emphasize, the vivid scars carved into the Joker’s face. They bring to the surface in a shocking explosion of red and white the madness that lurks within the clown.
Eyes gleaming with insanity give the theatrically daubed Joker a very sinister aspect. Anyone who looks upon him knows instinctively that he is to be feared, even before they see a weapon in his hand. His demented chuckle is both warning and knell of doom. He is a killer, violence incarnate, and he enjoys being so.
The clown-paint enables the Joker to do so many things with a menacing flair, a baleful panache. It makes it easy for him to taunt and torment the Batman, and send his brave but easily angered foe into a rage that means there will always be a pitched battle when these two adversaries meet. Both combatants will end up bruised and bloodied, and beneath the hatred a forbidden lust will be kindled. A desire that both excites and terrifies each man, though neither one will admit how intense the need for the other truly is.
But the truth is, they are incomplete without each other.
With his clown face on, the Joker goads the Batman to strike him, tear his clothes aside, and slam him against the nearest wall or other hard surface. The Bat’s thrusts inside the Joker are always rough and vicious, making the crazed clown ache and howl. The Bat’s brutality makes the Joker feel strangely whole, allowing him to surrender to the rapture that is pain. He loves the feeling of the Batman’s cock stretching him, moving deeply in his ass, almost tearing him apart with unspeakable pleasure, and the feel of teeth in his neck and strong fingers clenched on his hips.
The Bat would never admit it, but it is the Joker who helps his true nature emerge. The murky, hidden side, the part of him that needs the Joker and seeks him out time and time again, not to bring him to justice but to engage him in struggle, and to surrender at last to his own illicit needs.
When the Joker laughs at the Batman, he mocks more than their constant clashes, the old scenario of hero versus villain. He is amused by how alike the two of them really are. How their respective masks are what permits them to open up to one another. When the barriers of their roles go up, the restraints that the world imposes on each of them can be broken down. The fury can be unleashed, and with it, the passion that cannot be translated into ordinary words.
Only with their masks on can they be Batman and Joker, setting the fearsome yearning within them free. Without the masks, they are simply Bruce and Jack. In those guises they could speak of love, but it is something they have yet to learn how to do.
Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Prompt: "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." -Oscar Wilde
Pairing: Batman/Joker.
Fandom: Nolanverse (influenced by others too)
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, suing is futile!
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex, blood, violence and angst
Summary: Each man plays a part that lets him be who he really is…
Word Count: 506
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
The Joker’s painted visage is just as much a mask as the Batman’s cowl.
Greasepaint and smeared lipstick do not conceal, but emphasize, the vivid scars carved into the Joker’s face. They bring to the surface in a shocking explosion of red and white the madness that lurks within the clown.
Eyes gleaming with insanity give the theatrically daubed Joker a very sinister aspect. Anyone who looks upon him knows instinctively that he is to be feared, even before they see a weapon in his hand. His demented chuckle is both warning and knell of doom. He is a killer, violence incarnate, and he enjoys being so.
The clown-paint enables the Joker to do so many things with a menacing flair, a baleful panache. It makes it easy for him to taunt and torment the Batman, and send his brave but easily angered foe into a rage that means there will always be a pitched battle when these two adversaries meet. Both combatants will end up bruised and bloodied, and beneath the hatred a forbidden lust will be kindled. A desire that both excites and terrifies each man, though neither one will admit how intense the need for the other truly is.
But the truth is, they are incomplete without each other.
With his clown face on, the Joker goads the Batman to strike him, tear his clothes aside, and slam him against the nearest wall or other hard surface. The Bat’s thrusts inside the Joker are always rough and vicious, making the crazed clown ache and howl. The Bat’s brutality makes the Joker feel strangely whole, allowing him to surrender to the rapture that is pain. He loves the feeling of the Batman’s cock stretching him, moving deeply in his ass, almost tearing him apart with unspeakable pleasure, and the feel of teeth in his neck and strong fingers clenched on his hips.
The Bat would never admit it, but it is the Joker who helps his true nature emerge. The murky, hidden side, the part of him that needs the Joker and seeks him out time and time again, not to bring him to justice but to engage him in struggle, and to surrender at last to his own illicit needs.
When the Joker laughs at the Batman, he mocks more than their constant clashes, the old scenario of hero versus villain. He is amused by how alike the two of them really are. How their respective masks are what permits them to open up to one another. When the barriers of their roles go up, the restraints that the world imposes on each of them can be broken down. The fury can be unleashed, and with it, the passion that cannot be translated into ordinary words.
Only with their masks on can they be Batman and Joker, setting the fearsome yearning within them free. Without the masks, they are simply Bruce and Jack. In those guises they could speak of love, but it is something they have yet to learn how to do.