Team Anarchy - Round 9 - Fic: The Hurting
Title: The Hurting
Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Prompt: Carve your name into my arm.
--Every Me and Every You (Placebo)
Pairing: Batman/Joker.
Fandom: Nolanverse (influenced by others too)
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, suing is futile!
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied sex, implied violence, slight self-cutting, blood, angst, a teeny bit of fluffiness
Summary: Sometimes the pain is the best part of pleasure…
Word Count: 569
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
The hurting is the best part. That little thrill of pain as the blade slides through yielding skin. Thin, seductive and dangerous, the vicious bite of metal makes the Joker hiss and smile. A real smile, not a mocking leer or the twisted grin of his scars.
He enjoys the bright, staining stream of red blood against his pale arm too, of course. It’s one of the few aesthetic sights he can still truly appreciate. Warm and beautiful, it makes his breath catch with awe, his head spinning as he feels giddy with delight and slightly sick in the pit of his stomach, too.
“It’s fun!” he whispers to himself, chuckling almost under his breath. He can’t make too much noise, or he might be discovered in possession of the shiny new razor blade.
He knows there are some who cut themselves because they want to die, or want attention - and that’s not why the Joker does what he does. He doesn’t want death - not yet, anyway. The pain just feels too good. This is just another game to him, a delicious amusement. A way to pass the time in this very dull hospital.
Those stupid orderlies and doctors would get the wrong idea if they saw him, and take away his precious new toy; they’d do their utmost to find out where he got it and would make sure he could never obtain another. There would be more drugs to take, and not the enjoyable kind. He’d be taken from his comfortable room and put in a small white one with pads on the walls, and of course the shrinks would have to tell everything to Bruce. Who would also get the wrong idea. And Bruce is the one person the Joker doesn’t want to disappoint. He’s the one paying for the Joker to be kept in this private mental ward, after all. And it’s better to have a soft bed in this fancy nut-house than to be languishing in Arkham.
It’s a strange sensation, almost as heady as the cuts from the blade, having someone actually love him. And it’s not just the mind-blowing sex, and all the exquisite pain that goes with it, that happens when Bruce becomes the Bat, that keeps the Joker wanting more of the other man. Bruce Wayne is the one who can see the maniac clown for who and what he is, but can also look beyond the paint and the grotesque facial scarring and see more.
Bruce actually calls him Jack when they make love, as opposed to having a slamming- into-walls, bruising fuck session. And strangely enough, the Joker has come to like it. He never thought he ever could, but perhaps Gotham’s hero has actually managed to do the impossible - find something worth redeeming in the Joker. Well, he’s managed to stop the Joker getting bored enough to try to break out of this place, anyway…
Reluctantly, the Joker hides the razor blade, and presses his cut arm against his side to staunch the light trickle of blood.
He only wishes he could persuade Bruce to cut him. To carve his name or a bat symbol into his flesh, marking the Joker as Bruce’s own, or just giving him a new kind of thrill. No matter how wild the sex gets, however, Bruce has never gone quite that far.
But there’s still time to tempt him into it.
Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Prompt: Carve your name into my arm.
--Every Me and Every You (Placebo)
Pairing: Batman/Joker.
Fandom: Nolanverse (influenced by others too)
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, suing is futile!
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied sex, implied violence, slight self-cutting, blood, angst, a teeny bit of fluffiness
Summary: Sometimes the pain is the best part of pleasure…
Word Count: 569
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
The hurting is the best part. That little thrill of pain as the blade slides through yielding skin. Thin, seductive and dangerous, the vicious bite of metal makes the Joker hiss and smile. A real smile, not a mocking leer or the twisted grin of his scars.
He enjoys the bright, staining stream of red blood against his pale arm too, of course. It’s one of the few aesthetic sights he can still truly appreciate. Warm and beautiful, it makes his breath catch with awe, his head spinning as he feels giddy with delight and slightly sick in the pit of his stomach, too.
“It’s fun!” he whispers to himself, chuckling almost under his breath. He can’t make too much noise, or he might be discovered in possession of the shiny new razor blade.
He knows there are some who cut themselves because they want to die, or want attention - and that’s not why the Joker does what he does. He doesn’t want death - not yet, anyway. The pain just feels too good. This is just another game to him, a delicious amusement. A way to pass the time in this very dull hospital.
Those stupid orderlies and doctors would get the wrong idea if they saw him, and take away his precious new toy; they’d do their utmost to find out where he got it and would make sure he could never obtain another. There would be more drugs to take, and not the enjoyable kind. He’d be taken from his comfortable room and put in a small white one with pads on the walls, and of course the shrinks would have to tell everything to Bruce. Who would also get the wrong idea. And Bruce is the one person the Joker doesn’t want to disappoint. He’s the one paying for the Joker to be kept in this private mental ward, after all. And it’s better to have a soft bed in this fancy nut-house than to be languishing in Arkham.
It’s a strange sensation, almost as heady as the cuts from the blade, having someone actually love him. And it’s not just the mind-blowing sex, and all the exquisite pain that goes with it, that happens when Bruce becomes the Bat, that keeps the Joker wanting more of the other man. Bruce Wayne is the one who can see the maniac clown for who and what he is, but can also look beyond the paint and the grotesque facial scarring and see more.
Bruce actually calls him Jack when they make love, as opposed to having a slamming- into-walls, bruising fuck session. And strangely enough, the Joker has come to like it. He never thought he ever could, but perhaps Gotham’s hero has actually managed to do the impossible - find something worth redeeming in the Joker. Well, he’s managed to stop the Joker getting bored enough to try to break out of this place, anyway…
Reluctantly, the Joker hides the razor blade, and presses his cut arm against his side to staunch the light trickle of blood.
He only wishes he could persuade Bruce to cut him. To carve his name or a bat symbol into his flesh, marking the Joker as Bruce’s own, or just giving him a new kind of thrill. No matter how wild the sex gets, however, Bruce has never gone quite that far.
But there’s still time to tempt him into it.