Slipping Into Entropy - Part 12 - NSFW
Gaze flickering rapidly between the gun and the dark form crouched in front of him, Joker shifted, a shiver of cold and nerves passing violently through him. Tangles of wet hair fell haphazardly about his face, dripping water in his eyes as another small puddle formed beneath him from his soaked clothing. Uncertain of what to do for once, his fingers twitched absently, long, broken fingernails scratching at the mortar between the tiles.
Batman felt.....drained, frustrated but drained. He felt more like Bruce than Batman, but he still wasn't quite comfortable taking off his mask in front of the Joker. At least his breath was evening out. He stepped forward, picking the gun off the floor. A look was shot to the Joker when he straightened; he wished there was some way he could tell the man how close he had come to using it, but instead he took it to a supply closet where other weapons were kept and locked it away.
Batman had left the room. Left... Move. Springing up to his feet, he ran for the door. He had no plan; he rarely ever planned ahead, usually just flowing with the now instead of worrying about a future that might never come. The only time he bothered planning was when a point was to be made, some master goal to be had. Uncertain of the layout of the rooms within the cave, his previous time running free there having been all-too-short, he ran blindly, stumbling as his sense of balance tilted.
The Joker's footsteps echoed in the open space until he reached the smaller halls. Batman was incredibly antsy about letting the Joker run free in the underground lair, so he picked himself up with new resolve and went to find the madman. Trailing him wasn't difficult in his frantic state of mind because he didn't try to soften his stride and occasionally he bumped into things on the way, leaving papers and tools scattered on the floor. Batman simply followed in the wake.
The lunatic stopped for a moment when he entered the main part of the cave, the high-vaulted roof and open air loosening a bit of the tension that had knotted in his chest. It was dark and damp, yes - but he could move, he could run. It would be much harder to be cornered with so much open space, even if it offered less places to hide and sneak. Hide... the Bat. He'll be following... The thought pierced the haze the sedatives had left in his brain, forcing his feet into motion once again. Going on impulse, he hid in the first place he thought of, figuring that it would probably be the last place Bat Boy would look. Fumbling open the door of the Tumbler, he closed it quietly behind him, tucking himself as close to the bottom as possible to avoid being spotted through the few translucent panes.
The room, holding the firing range, Bruce's massive desktop, and the tank, was deserted when Batman reached it. For a moment his heart leapt; had he really lost the man? Doing a quick mental backtrack led him to believe otherwise, so he stalked around the room feeling uneasy. He settled for bringing up the surveillance system on one of the desktop's monitors. Nothing moved but him.
The Joker was here still, he was sure of it, he'd heard his footfalls enter and the echo change distinctly in the openness. He listened hard, turning up the frequency sensors in his ears. His own breathing was unavoidable, but underneath it he could hear the breathe of another. It was still frantic. Small scratches came here and there. Nails on metal, clothing shifting..... Once again Batman scanned the room and saw nothing, except..... The only place large enough to conceal a full grown man was the Tumbler. Cautiously, Batman approached the machine.
Joker was curled up within, trying to make himself as small as possible while pressed against the floor of the machine, one hand clamped over his mouth to stifle any pangs of laughter.. He was hardly moving, but his breathing was rapid, heartbeat still erratic and manic. That close, the faint scent of dampness was detectable through the air vents of the vehicle, his clothes and hair still drying from his forced dunking.
Engaging the door, Batman stood prepared for a fight. His suspicion had proven correct, there laid the Joker on the floor of the vehicle; he was curled and shaking, and still very wet from the shower. Tiny puddles of water glistened in the places he'd touched or laid in. Moving slowly this time, Batman took hold of the neck of his shirt and pulled him out. "Are you afraid of me now, Joker?"
A weak smile slid into place as he was pulled out, easily handled as if he was a rag toy. The thought, the image of being an easy little trifle, put a stubborn line in his jaw. Staring defiantly back, he smirk flickered briefly before dying. "Eheh... found me that quickly, did you, Bats?" As much as he wished to strike at that stern, restrained, self-righteous face, he let the other man dangle him off the floor. "There's nothing you can do to me to make me afraid of you. Nothing, nothing, ahahah..." Giving the man a curious look, the grin came back with more confidence. "Are you afraid of me now, Bruce?" he hissed back, green eyes watching him sharply.
"No." Joker may be laughing now, but Batman had seen the fear. He could deny it until he turned blue, but Batman had seen it. It was a small triumph. "As long as I can defy you, I won't fear you." He knew this was partially a lie on his part. He had feared the Joker's merciless takeover of Gotham's system, and part of him still did fear the man. But, Bruce had a knack for sticking to the things that frightened him; eventually he would overcome them. Just like the bats. He wondered if perhaps Joker would like to be introduced to them later.
He took the madman back to the cell he'd first kept him in, and again dropped a towel on the cot. After the Joker's last breakout it had needed extensive repair. He didn't like it's layout anymore, it hadn't suited him well at all to keep the escape artist under wraps, so he was building another, slightly deeper into the hideout. It was much roomier by comparison, and near to the area the where the caves began. If Joker did manage to escape, he would either get lost in them, and hopefully too frightened to remain there for very long, or he would head to the finished part of the hideout, toward the exit. Unfortunately that would put Bruce's sleeping quarters in the middle of the escape path.
As soon as they drew near to the cell, Joker started to struggle again, breath hissed between clenched, yellowed teeth as he attempted to kick and writhe his way free of Batman's iron grip. When the hero tried to move through the door he used a child's tactic, all four limbs shooting out to brace himself against the doorframe. "...I'm not going in there again, Bat. We're not done yet, and you're not hiding me in a box to forget about again..." Each time Bruce tried to shove forward and force the maniac into the room he just quivered and held on harder, fingers clawing into the patched edges of the doorway.
Joker was frustration incarnate. Batman slammed a fist into each of the hands holding tightly to the door frame, which usually would've put an end to this kind of maneuver, but the Joker didn't budge. "I'm not having you loose in my home," Batman growled into his ear. Hands and legs splayed like that, he was physically extremely vulnerable should Batman decide to inflict damage. It was highly tempting, but foreseeing a future in where the Joker simply escaped the room as he had previously, Batman knew this wasn't going to work without the slightest bit of cooperation. At least not until the new cell was finished. There was a long pause in which he debated his options. "You either stay in the cell, or you don't leave my sight." He stretched his arms across the Joker's back to hold his wrists, still looked to the frame, emphasizing the point.
The gritted teeth turned into a smug, victorious smile. "Well, since you're offering..." he purred, the phrase sounding many times more ominous than it should have. His limbs jerked in another quick move, detaching from the doorframe to wrap around Batman's armor and dig in; he was damned if he was going to let the Bat trick him should he decide to break his rules of "nobility and honesty" this soon in the game. With the man clinging and wrapped around his torso like that, there was no avoiding taking in all the little details; it was, perhaps, a little too close for comfort. "...but how does the Bat sleep, hmm? Perhaps I can help you hang by your ankles until the whole world goes dark...eheheh..."
"I can always string you up from the ceiling, if you'd like to find out," Batman breathed, seriously uncomfortable with the Joker's sudden swing in moods, "Just like last time." He'd had the Joker hanging from his ankle like that once before, just prior to his first stay at the Arkham Asylum. Being intimately close with the Joker had almost been easier when his face was swathed in makeup, its shortage was putting Batman ill at ease. The scars on his lips looked too real, his hair and skin looked too normal.
Sensing the other man's unease only filled his eyes with more glee. "Ah, but you won't. You're just too... predictable. Ever the valiant man of honor... but not to the core, oh no, no, no. There's something else in there that you've never let loose to play. I know," he growled, eyes narrowing as he took in Batman's reaction. "...you don't think I can tell, can sense it?" His fingers curled further into the mesh between the armor plates, trying to dig into the skin underneath. "I've seen it just beneath the surface, felt it..." A quiet snicker, the vibrations from his chest passing through the layers between them. "You have no idea... too stubborn to ever give in and enjoy yourself."
"At what expense?" Batman whispered back harshly. "Don't get me wrong, I believe there is a place in the world for that thing you're speaking of, I can use it to put people like you away." Batman held his arms out, letting the Joker press into him. "Look at you, you're ruled by your impulses," he grimaced, "You can't control yourself."
Another laugh was provoked at that, tears of mirth escaping from the corners of his eyes, giving Batman a look that, from anyone else, would have been described as pity. "Oh, perhaps so, but nobody else controls me either. What fun is control? Look how well it's worked for the rest of humanity; they grasp and grasp and the world still slides through their fingers to do what it pleases. They don't understand that the key is to slide with it." Joker's eyes flicked up, a predatory gleam alighting within. "You should try it, just once..." I'll pull it out of you. A viper strike, and Joker had the man's lower lip in his teeth.
About to speak, Batman's voice caught somewhere between a word and a grunt of surprise. Rather than trying to break free and spark the Joker to pull the opposite direction, Batman bit back. He caught the Joker's arms, still kneading in between the kevlar plates on his chest. Once he had his lip free enough, he jerked his head with a growl and slammed it into the Joker's. "Humanity will prove you wrong." But Batman....wasn't completely human. Just as the Joker wasn't human either. All his life he had felt like something other, like the bats. The Joker was right about one thing, his vengeance had taken him away from the humanity he adored and idolized. He couldn't say "I will prove you wrong"; he could only disguise that fact with his faith in others.
For a moment while Joker's head lolled back, eyes closed as a trickle of blood dripped from his smirking lips, he looked almost... blissful. When his eyes snapped open again, the expression within was darker than before. He'd sensed the hesitation, and the pain that'd been dished out only made him hungry for more. "...that's more like it," he hissed, legs tightening around an armored waist as he moved forward again, giving the other man a taste of blood. We're just the same. I'll shatter you yet...
It was unexpected at best. Every time the Joker took pleasure in what Batman had intended to be pain, it was unexpected. And still it kept happening. The sudden weight of the Joker's body slung around his hips pulled him down, but he caught himself quickly. He couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at their position. Everything about this was too much like his half forgotten dream. There he hadn't been able to control himself, or maybe he hadn't even wanted to. Here he was caught between enforcing his control over this madman, or enforcing his control over himself; thereby letting the Joker walk over him once more. He liked the taste when the Joker's bloodied tongue found his. It wasn't delicious by any means, but it was coppery and tangy and real. He moved their bodies to the wall outside the cell, taking some of the Joker's weight off of his shoulders and arms so that it could rest at his hips.
A shiver of glee ran through him when the other man moved outside the cell, backed him into a wall. This, this sort of captivity - this temporary thrill, he didn't mind in the slightest. He hummed a growl into Batman's mouth, wondering if the beast hidden in some dark space inside him would howl back. All the armored plates covering his adversary suddenly seemed inappropriate; he wanted the Bat vulnerable. If he could find a chink in the Knight's armor, madness would seep through and work its magic. That thought firmly in mind, he tried to pull at the plating and hood, driven by the thought of carving bloody runnels in the tender skin beneath.
Batman stilled the Joker's wandering hands as best he could with his own. Joker could tear at the suit all he liked, but Batman wanted it on for this. The turmoil that had been boiling in his stomach all night stirred, but the cocktail of hormones and the need to conquer kept it down. If anything, it came with an adrenaline rush, or perhaps that was simply the Joker's doing himself. Batman's eyes closed, opened, closed again. He bit the Joker's already split lip and smeared the blood across his cheeks with his fingers. That was better. That looked more like the Joker he knew.
That only caused the madman to laugh all the more. "Poor Batsy, so hung up on masks, appearances. Do you really think that who I am washes away, anymore than the dark part of you vanishes when you take off that hood?" His hands tried to snake away from Batman's grasp, reaching up in attempt to slide under the edge of the mask.
Batman caught his hands again and smashed the Joker's body into the wall. "You're one to talk about appearances," he snapped back. He didn't like facing the Joker without the mask and still half in his gear. It felt....wrong. More so than what he was doing now. "Why did you need me to break you out of jail? Why are you so focused on me?"
The smile dimmed slightly, Joker's expression turning serious as his fixed the taller man with a particularly intense stare. "You're so close, and yet you cling to these little morals you've made up for yourself. So much...potential. You don't even know what the rest of Gotham thinks about you!" he chuckled, content to be pinned for the moment. "They so no difference between the two of us but for one thing; I've crossed the river, but you're still treading water, thinking you'll drown." The smug look returned, his smile teasing. "I don't understand how you live with yourself while tearing yourself apart. You think I'm insane?" he laughed, leaning forward. "You've just carried on a charade for so long you've convinced yourself that what you want is what really is..."
"What they think of me isn't important." Not as important as what he could do for them. "They proved you wrong the last time. Not everyone will kill each other to save themselves." As long as Bruce believed in that, he could call himself sane. "You may be able to sway individuals," Dent came easily to mind, "but on the whole, you're just another psycho." He released the Joker's arms, and shoved him once more, hard, to the wall, then dropped him to the ground.
"Says the man dressed as a flying rat," he pointed out, bunching for a moment before springing forward, catlike, knocking Batman off his feet and pinning him to the ground. His breath came out in hisses as he gritted his teeth, fighting to keep the armored man down and beneath him. "Inner nature is the same; everyone has the potential to see things for the joke it truly is. Some are just further along than others. Given enough time and if you press the right buttons, everyone can be made to see..." Joker was shaking, his muscles straining as Batman fought to overpower him. He giggled, the sound inappropriately innocent given the suggestive light in the scarred man's eyes. "...oh, is the Bat afraid of what happens if he isn't in control?"
Batman would have been damed to let the Joker think he was in charge. He'd killed the woman Bruce had once hoped to spend his life with, he had broken the man that could have brought real justice to his world of criminals, he had held Gotham's citizens at gunpoint, daring them to execute each other, and he had caught the brunt of Batman's rage like none other before him.
Batman didn't feel very afraid now, what he did feel was his blood boiling over. They were locked in his hideout, with his belongings, because he had to go and rescue the Joker. Like hell he wasn't in control. "You call that control?" he spat. "It's nothing more than manipulation." Batman brought a knee up between the Joker's legs, hard.
His spine stiffened, eyes sliding closed as burning pain lanced through him. His tongue darted out, swiping away some of the blood painted across his lips. "That wasn't very convincing, Bat. Love taps aren't going to change my mind on the matter; quite the opposite. You don't know how to give in and go with the flow because you can't bear to be in anyplace but the driver's seat."
With that Batman punched the Joker in the jaw, sending his head flying back. He used the leverage to spin them, sending the Joker down to the ground as he lifted himself off of it. He didn't necessarily need to get out of Joker's iron grip to do so. Once he was looking down at the madman, he found his bearings again.
"You may be right about that," he sneered. "Something can be said for those who make their own luck." It had either been Harvey or Rachel who told him that once, he couldn't remember which. It didn't matter now. What did matter was shutting this man up.
His smirk deepened, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth again. "And look at how well that turned out. The ones with the stiffest spine always snap the hardest." Joker kicked his legs, trying to reverse their positions again. "Well? Now's your change to prove me wrong, Bats. Try to be a rider for once. Show me you can do it without your mind breaking to pieces," he growled, enjoying pulling on the other man's ego.
"SHUT UP." Batman hit him again. God, how he hated this man. It was strange though, the Joker giving him permission shouldn't have sat right with him, but he wanted to prove the man wrong so badly. He had learned how to fight dozens of men in battle, but he had not learned how to keep one man as a captive. He had no precedent for this situation where his mind and heart burned with anger and his body lashed it out but also reciprocated the Joker's constant flirtatious insinuations. Those two stimuli were muddled in his mind with the hell he had gone through in the past few months. He finally had the man who'd brought that hell to him within his grasp. He didn't want to hear about how much he was like this man on baser levels, he didn't want to hear his pessimism on humanity, he didn't want to fucking hear any more ridicule. What he did want was to shock the bastard like he'd tried so hard to shock everybody else. The Joker's sense of humor was terrible. Things like that really weren't so fun after all. There was no joy or grandeur in losing one's mind or one's faith in the world. Insanity wasn't a calling. Learning to kill and like it didn't make him better than the rest. It hurt like hell and some things could never ever be returned once that lesson was too late to learn. The Joker had no respect for that whatsoever. Batman wanted to see it bite him.
He tore his wrists away from the Joker and pried the writhing man out of his jacket, not caring that the seams ripped in places. Continuing with the shirt and tie was relatively easy. Joker had already lost a few buttons in their previous scuffles and all Batman had to do was rip the two sides of it apart from one another.
A wild, inhuman glee filled up those green eyes on seeing the other man give into his anger. The ruined clothing slid off easily, revealing thin white traceries that looked to be knife marks. "Ah ah, now. You don't get to win the game if you insist on being in control. Step out of that shell and let the real Bat come out to play," he taunted, giving the black plates and mesh a disdainful look. When Batman snarled at him Joker merely laughed, returning the punch the hero had given his jaw. He just can't resist!
Batman took it, almost glad for it. It hurt and his lip would swell very soon, but it was something real. He dove on the Joker afterward, a hand at his throat, a hand undoing the buckle at his belt. He'd made his decision. He didn't think anymore on whether this was the right thing to do or not, he didn't even wonder if Alfred was watching the this through the surveillance system. If he was, it was his own fault, and he could look away if he wanted to. So what if Bruce would hear about it later, it would be just another thing to feel awkward over, and he wanted his vengeance. If the Joker wanted to pull his strings, then let him. The man would pay for it.
As soon as Batman's hand closed around his throat his eyes had fluttered for a moment, his breath leaving in a quiet gasp. His gaze sweeping over the kevlar panels in front of him, Joker took advantage of the fact that both of the hero's hands were occupied. Locating a couple of the places where the suit pieces locked together, his own hands darted out and pressed them, parts of the armor falling to the ground around them like bits of broken shell. The mesh along his spine parted, slipping down the Knight's shoulders.
The hand around Joker's throat tightened as the armor pieces fell away. Batman finally managed to pull off the Joker's trousers, at least enough so that they'd be out of the way if it weren't for his shoes still being on. His newly free hand caught the Joker's wandering one and yanked it down to his side. Much of the fabric layer of his suit was in tact, but his body was now definitely more pliable to the one underneath him, so when he dug his hips and torso down into it in frustration, far less scraping and bruising was inflicted. The blood across the Joker's face was drying, his split lip offered more, but it was all running down his chin. Luckily the set of his eyes was very much the same as it always had been, the Joker's tone and words hadn't lost any of that biting falsetto with the illusion he had to pull off for the Wayne media earlier.
The man beneath him shivered as rough fabric and plates dragged across his skin, the already-rapid pulse beneath Batman's hand speeding up another notch. Fighting to free his trapped hand, the other ripped at the other catches within reach, trying to pry the hero out of his shell, his method of hiding from others and himself. More black plates clattered to the floor, the mesh becoming looser and falling away from the skin as its holdfasts disappeared. Squirming as Batman twisted, trying to keep him from continuing to disarmor him, he snatched the edge of the cowl, tugging in an attempt to dislodge the mask.
The hand on Joker's throat released him to halt further progress. His knees pushed between the Joker's and spread them apart. "If you want this, we leave that on." Batman's eyes projected nothing but seriousness. He bent down over the Joker, hovering, close enough that he could speak at a whisper and still get his point across. "Or I'll make this hurt even more than you can stand."
"...I highly doubt that," he hissed back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to break free. "You have no idea what I can 'stand'. And you're still not listening!" The blond man growled in frustration, his face a bizarre mix of pain, lust, and anger. "You prove nothing by this, Bat. You still think you're in control, still guiding events. You're afraid to see what happens when you aren't."
"I don't have to prove anything to you," Batman bit out. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Struggling on the concrete floor with the Joker should NOT have been his idea of fun, but here he was. Because he was just that pissed, that cornered, and that god-be-damned fascinated with his captive turned captor all in one. And no, maybe he could not control himself completely, and maybe trying to convince himself otherwise was nothing more than an excuse. He wanted to hurt the Joker, to make him suffer, to make him have some kind of respect for a being other than himself, but he did not want to lose control. If he did that, he'd kill the bastard.
Joker just cackled. "...no, of course you don't," he drawled, his chest hitching as he stifled the laughter that wanted to bubble up at the end. "Apparently, you're more fucked up than I thought. Denial can be a nasty thing. I can rec-....HAHAH!.. Recommend a good shrink in Arkham for that..."
Batman slammed his head into the Joker's, aiming for his nose. "Do you ever shut up?" Finally he released one of the Joker's hands so that he could place his own over the Joker's mouth. He got up real close, pressing his face to the side of the Joker's, his glove flaking the dried blood off the Joker's skin. "Be...quiet." His hips jutted forward, the mesh and plating around them far too tight.
A shudder ran through the body beneath him and Joker's eyes slid closed, small lines of tension appearing at the corners as a wave of pain hit him. When they opened again his gaze was fixed sideways, watching Batman's face intently. There wasn't even a hint of fear in the green. The muscles of his jaw worked, wanting to bite the hand clamped over his mouth, not certain he'd make it through the fabric.
He did it anyways.
Growling angrily in pain, Batman wrenched his hand free and backhanded him with it. He was seething now. He got up on his knees and hit the Joker again, once, twice, three times. He was unlike anyone Batman had ever fought before. He had no method to his moves, but when he was frantic, he was wild. When he wasn't frantic, he was like a punching bag. He would just take it, and laugh.
Now that he had some height on the Joker, in spite of all his fury, he felt....torn. He wanted this really bad, not just for sexual gratification, but to....to make the Joker do what? Another part of him wanted to walk away. He had done it more than once before. Finally he stilled, stuck at an impasse in his own mind. The rage wasn't going anywhere, but reason picked at the back of his head.
About a second after the last blow hit, something seemed to snap in the smaller man. He levered himself up and pounced on the hero, wrapping arms around his half-armored torso and sinking yellowed teeth into Bruce's exposed shoulder.
Bruce yelled in pain; the Joker didn't let go. His teeth were like fire, pulling into the muscle, breaking the skin in places. In a fury, Batman rose, lifting the Joker off his feet with him and slamming them both back into the wall. It hurt. His vision glazed over, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the anger or the pain or simply because he had closed his eyes. The Joker's flesh was pressed all along his own now, bare torsos coming together, battle scars over scars, Bruce could feel them when they struggled.
His fury reached the breaking point at the Joker's idea of a love bite. He made short work of Joker's shorts, and undid the last of the armor clasps at his waist, finally bringing skin to skin.
His healing cuts stung from the abuse, but that only made it all the better. A delicious twinge of glee jolted through him at the sound of Batman crying out from his bite. His jaw loosened in surprise as the other man's anger seemed to spur him on in another direction, the sudden sensation of heated skin almost shocking. All of the plans and ideas in his head fell apart like broken clocks as another impulse rose to the forefront. Digging his nails into the tender skin near Bruce's spine, he tilted his head to bare a long expanse of neck and shoulder, giving the hero a look that was half challenge, half invitation.
Batman couldn't step down this time, he wanted this. He felt drunk with none of the disorientation. His teeth bared in a snarl, and he returned the Joker's gaze for a long moment before he bit back. There was nothing soft or even apparently erotic about it. His teeth gnashed into the top of the Joker's shoulder; another three inches upward and he would be digging for that vein that brought life into the madman's eyes. He knew exactly where it was.
That coaxed a scream from the villain, but instead of struggling and pushing his aggressor away he only seemed to wind himself closer. His fingers scratched down Bruce's back with a pressure that drew blood. His already-rapid heartbeat cranked up another notch, his breaths coming in short, quiet gasps. It would have looked like a panic attack had it been anyone else, but the expression of raw lust written across his features put any suspicions of that to rest.
Batman groaned, empathizing with the Joker in a way that he never had before. His frenzied movements rubbed against Bruce in all the right places, and he didn't care whether it looked normal or not nor if the Joker was howling in pain or pleasure. Instinct told him it was the latter however. Without releasing the man's shoulder, he lifted his hips so that he wouldn't slide down the wall. Batman held their erections together in one large hand while his mouth moved upward.
One arm moved down to Bruce's hip, pushing him forward until their hips ground together, the resulting sting as some of the cuts broke open pulling another moan from him. So many different desires clashed in mind that he didn't know what to do; ripping each other apart or melding together, it was all the same, causing him to writhe whether the touches were rough or gentle.
Batman's mind had retreated elsewhere, overwhelmed with lust and hate, incapable of choosing one over the other. His hand squeezed hard and released, finding a rhythm and then losing it only to find it again once more. His tongue felt the wild pulse of the man beneath him. He wanted to tear into the skin like mad. Batman's free hand, keeping the Joker held against the wall dug into one of his old knife wounds. He hadn't even noticed his fingers were pushing into it until it bled.
Arching up as a finger slipped under his skin, causing a warm line of blood to run down his hip, another wild scream ripped out of his lungs. Returning the favor, he bit into the closest patch of tanned skin as hard as he could, not even letting up when he was rewarded with the taste of copper on his tongue. It was like drinking in victory in every moment; each second only further proved to him that his theory was correct, that instinct had been right on the mark. They were the same.
A loud groan of pain tore itself between Batman's lips and the Joker's skin. He threw his head back, a tiny river of blood dripping down his chin. His thumb joined his forefinger, exploring the Joker's bleeding flesh. His opposite hand did the same, swiping the thumb over the heads of their cocks on an upward thrust. He couldn't discern which drove Joker more insane.
The combination of the two sensations at once seemed to be what finally pushed the other man over the edge. If anything, his jaw seemed to clench even harder, his last cry muffled against Batman's skin as he arched and pressed as hard as he could, the force driving the hero's fingers even deeper into the cut. Every muscle in Joker's body seemed to wind impossibly tight, green eyes rolling back in his head. He screamed until his lungs were spent, slowly going limp as his mind unraveled.
Joker's scream reverberated in Bruce's head. His eyes clenched shut at the agony the Joker had been inflicting, but the leap of his body, the sudden wetness in Bruce's hand, and oh god that scream did Batman in. His legs shook and he rammed the Joker into the wall repeatedly until he came. He felt it from his toes through the top of his head, his mouth hung open slightly and his forehead rested on the wall at the Joker's back. Unable to move, he simply held them there as his body went through the aftershocks.
Joker simply hung against him, as boneless as any rag doll, the tension that was normally so intrinsically wired through his frame completely spent. Lazily opening one eye, he found his gaze being drawn to the little pools of blood welling up from the furrows he'd ripped into Bruce's flesh. Running his tongue over the marks, savoring the taste, small shivers washed through him. It took Batman a few moments to realize that it wasn't shivers at all; the madman was quietly laughing, a pleased look firmly in place.
It took him longer to realize what that meant. Somewhere along the way he had forgotten that this was the Joker, and that he was the Batman. Or more accurately, because he had been far too caught up in exactly how much he hated the man stuck to him, he had forgotten that this was his villain, and he was the city's hero. His heartbeat began to steady itself out, and slowly he moved off of the Joker, whether he could find his own legs or not.
The smaller man slid down to rest on the floor, still shaking with laughter. Turning dazed green eyes up towards the masked hero's face, he couldn't help but grin. Two fingers unconsciously moved towards the wound Batman had ripped open again, the tips dragging across the slickness. Focused on the Knight's face, he raised the digits to his mouth, slowly licking away the white and red until only clean skin remained. His eyes said it all. I win, Bats. Care to try again? Eheheh...
Batman's eyes remained locked to the Joker's mouth and fingers...... What a look that man was giving him, all fire and confidence, but he couldn't take his eyes off that mouth. Moving suddenly, Batman dropped to the ground and took the Joker's hand away from his mouth before he could finish. He brought it to his own lips and sucked. His eyes finally met the Joker's.
Pulling his arm back towards himself, he dragged Bruce with it. Tilting his head curiously, he watched the hero in silence for a moment before jerking him even closer. Licking the line of his own blood that still stained the taller man's chin, he brushed their mouths together, tongue darting in to paint the inside a darker crimson.
Bruce's heart raced at the unfamiliar territory. He couldn't remember what the Joker's mouth had felt like without the biting of tongues and lips. For once it....wasn't quite a duel, simply curiosity. He allowed it at first, then reciprocated after a moment. He must have still been out of his mind because the fascination took hold of him. His tongue met the Joker's and tasted blood. He could even feel the scars on the inside of his mouth and was far more transfixed by them than he thought he would be.
Another laugh rippled through the man, the vibrations passing between them until Bruce could feel them in his own mouth and lungs. Slumping back to the floor, his manic energy all dispersed, Joker stretched, looking every inch the cat who had gotten the proverbial cream. "...well, that was entertaining. You'll have to try harder next time if you want to win, however. Perhaps we should schedule a few... practice sessions?" The corners of his mouth twitched up like some sort of nervous tick, his tongue darting over his lips before his eyes slid closed, leaving Joker looking disturbingly lifeless and exhausted.
Bruce's tongue ran across his bottom lip slowly, taking in any taste that was left there. The Joker was definitely full of himself at the moment, but funny enough, Batman didn't really feel the situation sinking in yet. His mind was catching up, but it was still in a bit of fuzz. So the Joker though he had won? So what? He was still down here in Batman's cave rather than up on the streets. Bruce kept that to himself, but inside, he was smirking.
It took a moment for Bruce to realize that, with the sudden burning of all his energy reserves, Joker had simply... shut down. With that broken, disjointed mind unconscious, his breathing and pulse slowed to a normal rhythm, completely oblivious to his state of undress and the cold, hard floor. Without all the high-strung tension and extremes of emotion and odd makeup twisting his features, it became apparent that the madman was younger than the presence he exuded; he couldn't have been older than his late twenties to early thirties. It wasn't a solid clue to narrowing down who he might have once been, but beggers certainly couldn't be choosers.
Bruce stared at him for a while, ignoring the new cuts and taking in the old scars on his body. He had a lot of them, other than the more prominent ones on his cheeks. The problem was, if his grin wasn't recognizable to anyone who might have known him from the past, he seriously doubted any of the other unusual scars on his body would be. Nevertheless, he committed what he saw to memory.
He too was exhausted, but he....hesitated at putting the Joker back on the cot and into his cell. He'd broken his way free more than once, and most importantly, he would be out of Bruce's line of sight. He debated on this for quite a while, not liking his options any way he put it. Finally he stood, collecting the unconscious man up off the floor without waking him. He must have been out cold. With some effort, Bruce brought him to the sparse area he'd set up for himself to sleep in. He laid the man down on the bed and......decided instantly that this wasn't going to work. His bed wasn't small, but it wasn't extremely large either. The closest couch he had was down the hall quite a ways. He did NOT feel comfortable lying down next to this man. He sighed, standing over the unconscious form, and pinched the bridge of his nose. At the moment, he was too tired to figure out another option. At least he would know it instantly if the Joker woke and decided to run. Bruce was a very light sleeper when he needed to be.
Finally he laid down, flat on his back, with as much space in between himself and the crook as he could manage.
A/N: Sorry it took so long.