Halloween Anonymous Fic - Ghost Stories
Title: Ghost Stories
Rating: R/NC-17 (somewhere between the two)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no profit from this.
Summary: On Halloween, the Joker tells Batman a ghost story.
Bruce Wayne just can't help himself.......
"Let me."
It was a soft entreaty, yet the Joker's voice never wavered.
Batman wanted this. The Joker knew it; his cuffed hands ran along a
black clad hip.
Bruce Wayne hadn't been surprised when the letter Gordon had given him
earlier that evening turned out to contain a joker card with the time
and location of a special "Halloween Party". (Come in costume,
Batman! I might even let you catch me. xoxox-J)
What was a little shocking was the attire the Joker had chosen to
wear; a tight nurse's uniform made of white.......vinyl. The skirt was
obscenely short, ending just a few inches below the hip. Peeking out
beneath it were twin pairs of thin black straps attached to lace
topped thigh-high stockings. His green hair contrasted with all the
white, making him appear more washed out, more ghoulish than ever.
"You like? It's my Halloween costume!" He had smiled and posed
coquettishly, white vinyl skirt rising even higher.
Overpowering and cuffing him had been easy, far too easy. Bruce now
understood the price as the Joker smoothed the lower armor plates with
his fingers, the space between them rife with pollution and peril. He
was dirty, smelled stale, and his yellow teeth were even more ghastly
up close. He was everything hateful and hopeless that Batman fought
against.
And it felt so fucking powerful to be so close to him. To see
those glittering eyes fix him with...understanding. The Joker knew the
darkest parts of him; parts he wasn't ready to admit existed. Bruce
was frozen, caught by an unhinged, hypnotic stare that belied a keen
intelligence.
Reason screamed that he should knock the man unconscious and take him
in but his body couldn't-wouldn't move.
"Let me." The Joker's tongue made its first appearance in what seemed
like forever, swiping along red lips with an undisguised hunger. His
palms hovered between Batman's legs. "Let me, let me...you waaant
it...."
Bruce found he could barely breathe, unsure now that the clown had
acknowledged the crackling tension between them. His body trembled. A
shiver, that's all it was, not a barely perceptible nod of the
head.
The Joker seemed to take it as such and, ever the escape artist, made
short work of the key pieces of armor, snickering at what he found.
"Ooo...heh, you do want it! I knew I wasn't the only one who
liked my out-fit."
He reached out, never breaking eye contact.
Stop him! It's not too late to stop.
"Like thiiis?" Whether inquisitive or teasing, the touches were
maddeningly delicate.
"No." Oh God, help me. Bruce repositioned his hands, adding
more pressure. "Like this."
"Oh, heh, now you're talkin'. I like a man who knows what he wants. I
like a man who...." he trailed off, leaning forward to whisper a
filthy litany. Despite the harsh breathing and stuttered speech, the
Joker had to be the most accomplished dirty talker Bruce had ever
heard, quickly weaving together plots, desires, and instructions that
ranged from coy to downright licentious.
He gave a dark chuckle, desperate to regain emotional distance. "Your
mouth is even grungier than your hair. Tell me the truth," he let the
Joker reverse their positions, his back now to the wall, "phone sex
operator, right?"
"Heh heh, how do you know that's actually not my, uh, day job."
"Because even then you'd probably dress better," the quip did nothing
to spare his dignity as he grabbed at the white uniform to pull the
other man closer.
"Not bad, Bats, not bad. I appreciate the attempt at hu-mor,
but we're going to have to work on what is and isn't funny. Speaking
of funny, have I ever told you how I got these scars?" His hand built
up to a patterned rhythm. One, two, a swirl around the top, and the
rest of the world was becoming a dull haze with every passing stroke.
"I've he-heard that one," Bruce's breath hitched with an expert turn
of the Joker's wrist.
"Hmmmmm....you have? Maybe something different tonight, lover? It is
Halloween, after all. How 'bout a ghost story?"
The Joker straddled Bruce's left leg, working him with skillful cuffed
hands, grinding into him with every caress, the cold metal handcuffs
making his stomach tense every time they brushed against him. The
Joker nipped at his neck, finally settling on his shoulder, mouth
pointed at his ear, and emitted a wistful sigh.
"Ever been to New England? Creeeepy old barns, lotsa bats and weirdos.
You'd love it. Well....back in Salem right before the witch trials
there was a mysteeerious man who dressed all in black and rode from
town to town trying to stop crimes. He would prowl late at night with
a black hood on and stop rapes and robberies. He couldn't help
himself, ha ha, can you believe that? People started calling him the
Black Rider, thinking he was in league with.....the devil."
His eyes widened comically as he smacked his lips together, continuing
to rub himself against Bruce's thigh.
"The local authorities-uh....they....." he paused for the right word,
"to-ler-ated him. They officially disapproved but often, in secret,
accepted his help to stop thieves. Everything went along okay until
one man showed up."
A sharp bite to Bruce's earlobe jolted every nerve, making him arch
and gasp. He was dizzy with sensation and the perverted lilt of the
clown's voice. The fingers wrapped around his cock squeezed harder,
pace increasing slightly, magnifying the friction so that he couldn't
help but respond with tenuous thrusts.
"A man with a scarred face and long hair, dressed in a purple robe. He
would haunt Salem and the surrounding towns, setting fires and
murdering anyone in his path. The authorities couldn't catch him. He
was too quick! It was like he was......maaagic. People started calling
him the, uh, Warlock. Finally, they turned to the Black Rider for
help."
The Joker started alternating hands, one replacing the other as he
pumped mercilessly, breaking the flow every so often to tease, fondle
lower.
"Heh, you know what happened then, don't you, Batman? Allllll hell
broke loose. The Warlock and the Black Rider started playing a game
that consumed everything in its path. They chased each other from town
to town, fought and sneered at each other, destroying houses, farms,
heh heh people. Anything in their way was annihilated, a result of the
collision between two power-ful forces."
Bruce surged against him, clutching at unwashed hair. Grimy finger
pads were adding just the right amount of tension to the spot between
his balls, rubbing small circles into swollen flesh. Oh
God.....
"Then young women began showing up....afflicted. They would have fits
and utter straaange sounds, almost magically displaying the same scars
as the Warlock. The town became hysterical," the Joker tried to laugh
but it came out a broken gasp, he seemed to be unraveling just as
quickly. "There were t-trials and accusations, women who had the scars
were h-hanged or stoned to death. Formerly civilized people
turned on each other, accusing each other of w-witchcraft while
screaming for the heads of the Warlock and the Black Rider."
He gripped the other man even tighter, kneading skinny arms and legs.
A strap on the garter belt ripped in his hand from the incessant
pawing. Neither one of them noticed.
"Oh, unh," the Joker started making plaintive, lusty little groans.
"The B-Black Rider finally caught the Warlock and, oh!, tried to turn
him in. You know-ha, ha, ha-you know what happened, Batsy? They
arrested them both! The Black Rider turned out to be the magistrate's
son!"
They were now openly grinding into each other, all heated squeaking
rubber and vinyl. Bruce's legs shook as a throbbing pulse started to
overtake him. Mind blanked with desire-here was the real release he
was searching for, an orgasm was just a bonus. He wasn't thinking
about his parents or Rachel, wasn't even consumed by the violence
inside of him.
The Joker's voice was high pitched and cracking, "Oh God, oh fuck,
Batman, they tied them to the stake. They tied them, uh, they tied
them to the stake together!"
Bruce's head was pulled up and made to look directly into gleaming
eyes, at the painted face contorting in ecstasy. Allowing Bruce to
watch him unfurl completely, unashamed at any perceived vulnerability,
he sobbed the remainder of the story with his cresting orgasm.
"They buuuuuuurned. They burned at the stake together."
Those hands never stopped and he was gone. An electric pinch burst
into waves of bliss as he came all over the Joker's skirt and lacy
stockings. He allowed himself one triumph, one small victory. He
managed to cry out in only loud exhalations and unintelligible sounds,
pushing all needy language to the back of his mind where he prayed the
Joker couldn't hear. Just like that.....don't stop.....oh God, oh
God, oh fuck.....YES....yesyesyesyes.........
His knees buckled and they slid down the wall together, landing in a
shallow pool of oily rainwater. The Joker poured himself into Bruce's
lap and rested his slick forehead against the mask, panting into
parted lips. Both of them a sweaty, tangled mess of makeup and
costumed depravity.
"You know," the clown uttered breathlessly, "the locals say you can
still hear them every Halloween. The Warlock and the Black Rider
howling at each other in the night, tumbling and fighting 'til the
end. They say it's fate, a di-vine decree. They say it's
destiny. Heh, destined to go on forever."
Bruce didn't take note of the metallic clink and quick shuffling until
it was too late. The Joker had somehow slipped a sticky hand free,
swiftly encircling one of Bruce's wrists with the empty cuff, chaining
them together. He flashed a grotesque smile, free hand now pulling a
knife out of his boot.
"Hey Bats, I'm gonna haunt you........"
The End
Rating: R/NC-17 (somewhere between the two)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no profit from this.
Summary: On Halloween, the Joker tells Batman a ghost story.
Bruce Wayne just can't help himself.......
"Let me."
It was a soft entreaty, yet the Joker's voice never wavered.
Batman wanted this. The Joker knew it; his cuffed hands ran along a
black clad hip.
Bruce Wayne hadn't been surprised when the letter Gordon had given him
earlier that evening turned out to contain a joker card with the time
and location of a special "Halloween Party". (Come in costume,
Batman! I might even let you catch me. xoxox-J)
What was a little shocking was the attire the Joker had chosen to
wear; a tight nurse's uniform made of white.......vinyl. The skirt was
obscenely short, ending just a few inches below the hip. Peeking out
beneath it were twin pairs of thin black straps attached to lace
topped thigh-high stockings. His green hair contrasted with all the
white, making him appear more washed out, more ghoulish than ever.
"You like? It's my Halloween costume!" He had smiled and posed
coquettishly, white vinyl skirt rising even higher.
Overpowering and cuffing him had been easy, far too easy. Bruce now
understood the price as the Joker smoothed the lower armor plates with
his fingers, the space between them rife with pollution and peril. He
was dirty, smelled stale, and his yellow teeth were even more ghastly
up close. He was everything hateful and hopeless that Batman fought
against.
And it felt so fucking powerful to be so close to him. To see
those glittering eyes fix him with...understanding. The Joker knew the
darkest parts of him; parts he wasn't ready to admit existed. Bruce
was frozen, caught by an unhinged, hypnotic stare that belied a keen
intelligence.
Reason screamed that he should knock the man unconscious and take him
in but his body couldn't-wouldn't move.
"Let me." The Joker's tongue made its first appearance in what seemed
like forever, swiping along red lips with an undisguised hunger. His
palms hovered between Batman's legs. "Let me, let me...you waaant
it...."
Bruce found he could barely breathe, unsure now that the clown had
acknowledged the crackling tension between them. His body trembled. A
shiver, that's all it was, not a barely perceptible nod of the
head.
The Joker seemed to take it as such and, ever the escape artist, made
short work of the key pieces of armor, snickering at what he found.
"Ooo...heh, you do want it! I knew I wasn't the only one who
liked my out-fit."
He reached out, never breaking eye contact.
Stop him! It's not too late to stop.
"Like thiiis?" Whether inquisitive or teasing, the touches were
maddeningly delicate.
"No." Oh God, help me. Bruce repositioned his hands, adding
more pressure. "Like this."
"Oh, heh, now you're talkin'. I like a man who knows what he wants. I
like a man who...." he trailed off, leaning forward to whisper a
filthy litany. Despite the harsh breathing and stuttered speech, the
Joker had to be the most accomplished dirty talker Bruce had ever
heard, quickly weaving together plots, desires, and instructions that
ranged from coy to downright licentious.
He gave a dark chuckle, desperate to regain emotional distance. "Your
mouth is even grungier than your hair. Tell me the truth," he let the
Joker reverse their positions, his back now to the wall, "phone sex
operator, right?"
"Heh heh, how do you know that's actually not my, uh, day job."
"Because even then you'd probably dress better," the quip did nothing
to spare his dignity as he grabbed at the white uniform to pull the
other man closer.
"Not bad, Bats, not bad. I appreciate the attempt at hu-mor,
but we're going to have to work on what is and isn't funny. Speaking
of funny, have I ever told you how I got these scars?" His hand built
up to a patterned rhythm. One, two, a swirl around the top, and the
rest of the world was becoming a dull haze with every passing stroke.
"I've he-heard that one," Bruce's breath hitched with an expert turn
of the Joker's wrist.
"Hmmmmm....you have? Maybe something different tonight, lover? It is
Halloween, after all. How 'bout a ghost story?"
The Joker straddled Bruce's left leg, working him with skillful cuffed
hands, grinding into him with every caress, the cold metal handcuffs
making his stomach tense every time they brushed against him. The
Joker nipped at his neck, finally settling on his shoulder, mouth
pointed at his ear, and emitted a wistful sigh.
"Ever been to New England? Creeeepy old barns, lotsa bats and weirdos.
You'd love it. Well....back in Salem right before the witch trials
there was a mysteeerious man who dressed all in black and rode from
town to town trying to stop crimes. He would prowl late at night with
a black hood on and stop rapes and robberies. He couldn't help
himself, ha ha, can you believe that? People started calling him the
Black Rider, thinking he was in league with.....the devil."
His eyes widened comically as he smacked his lips together, continuing
to rub himself against Bruce's thigh.
"The local authorities-uh....they....." he paused for the right word,
"to-ler-ated him. They officially disapproved but often, in secret,
accepted his help to stop thieves. Everything went along okay until
one man showed up."
A sharp bite to Bruce's earlobe jolted every nerve, making him arch
and gasp. He was dizzy with sensation and the perverted lilt of the
clown's voice. The fingers wrapped around his cock squeezed harder,
pace increasing slightly, magnifying the friction so that he couldn't
help but respond with tenuous thrusts.
"A man with a scarred face and long hair, dressed in a purple robe. He
would haunt Salem and the surrounding towns, setting fires and
murdering anyone in his path. The authorities couldn't catch him. He
was too quick! It was like he was......maaagic. People started calling
him the, uh, Warlock. Finally, they turned to the Black Rider for
help."
The Joker started alternating hands, one replacing the other as he
pumped mercilessly, breaking the flow every so often to tease, fondle
lower.
"Heh, you know what happened then, don't you, Batman? Allllll hell
broke loose. The Warlock and the Black Rider started playing a game
that consumed everything in its path. They chased each other from town
to town, fought and sneered at each other, destroying houses, farms,
heh heh people. Anything in their way was annihilated, a result of the
collision between two power-ful forces."
Bruce surged against him, clutching at unwashed hair. Grimy finger
pads were adding just the right amount of tension to the spot between
his balls, rubbing small circles into swollen flesh. Oh
God.....
"Then young women began showing up....afflicted. They would have fits
and utter straaange sounds, almost magically displaying the same scars
as the Warlock. The town became hysterical," the Joker tried to laugh
but it came out a broken gasp, he seemed to be unraveling just as
quickly. "There were t-trials and accusations, women who had the scars
were h-hanged or stoned to death. Formerly civilized people
turned on each other, accusing each other of w-witchcraft while
screaming for the heads of the Warlock and the Black Rider."
He gripped the other man even tighter, kneading skinny arms and legs.
A strap on the garter belt ripped in his hand from the incessant
pawing. Neither one of them noticed.
"Oh, unh," the Joker started making plaintive, lusty little groans.
"The B-Black Rider finally caught the Warlock and, oh!, tried to turn
him in. You know-ha, ha, ha-you know what happened, Batsy? They
arrested them both! The Black Rider turned out to be the magistrate's
son!"
They were now openly grinding into each other, all heated squeaking
rubber and vinyl. Bruce's legs shook as a throbbing pulse started to
overtake him. Mind blanked with desire-here was the real release he
was searching for, an orgasm was just a bonus. He wasn't thinking
about his parents or Rachel, wasn't even consumed by the violence
inside of him.
The Joker's voice was high pitched and cracking, "Oh God, oh fuck,
Batman, they tied them to the stake. They tied them, uh, they tied
them to the stake together!"
Bruce's head was pulled up and made to look directly into gleaming
eyes, at the painted face contorting in ecstasy. Allowing Bruce to
watch him unfurl completely, unashamed at any perceived vulnerability,
he sobbed the remainder of the story with his cresting orgasm.
"They buuuuuuurned. They burned at the stake together."
Those hands never stopped and he was gone. An electric pinch burst
into waves of bliss as he came all over the Joker's skirt and lacy
stockings. He allowed himself one triumph, one small victory. He
managed to cry out in only loud exhalations and unintelligible sounds,
pushing all needy language to the back of his mind where he prayed the
Joker couldn't hear. Just like that.....don't stop.....oh God, oh
God, oh fuck.....YES....yesyesyesyes.........
His knees buckled and they slid down the wall together, landing in a
shallow pool of oily rainwater. The Joker poured himself into Bruce's
lap and rested his slick forehead against the mask, panting into
parted lips. Both of them a sweaty, tangled mess of makeup and
costumed depravity.
"You know," the clown uttered breathlessly, "the locals say you can
still hear them every Halloween. The Warlock and the Black Rider
howling at each other in the night, tumbling and fighting 'til the
end. They say it's fate, a di-vine decree. They say it's
destiny. Heh, destined to go on forever."
Bruce didn't take note of the metallic clink and quick shuffling until
it was too late. The Joker had somehow slipped a sticky hand free,
swiftly encircling one of Bruce's wrists with the empty cuff, chaining
them together. He flashed a grotesque smile, free hand now pulling a
knife out of his boot.
"Hey Bats, I'm gonna haunt you........"
The End