Batman TDK: Laid to Ruin [1/1]
Title: Laid to ruin [1/1]
Author: Rae
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Harvey (Two-Face), Joker, Joker/Harvey.
Warnings/Spoilers: AU towards the end of TDK as well as slash, oral sex (M/M), sadomasochism and erotic asphyxiation.
Disclaimer: Bob Kane/DC Comics own Batman and all characters concerned. I just played with ‘em.
Summary: Should have seen your face, Harv, completely fuckable. Maybe we should try it some time.
J.
Author Notes: Sequel/Add-on of Broken Images but can be read as standalone. Last night I watched TDK and well I was feeling inspired.
---
Harvey Dent was a patient fool pretending that his life was going to change, to be like it was. Or that it would get better. But it wouldn’t, it would continue, descending, crashing, burning in to the ground faster than he could watch…
---
Drip, drip, drip, the noise incessant against the silent background. Eye closed, Harvey twisted his hands, a burn of pain licked at his wrists, a warm trickle of blood slid down his arms. Bare from the waist up, a sheen of sweat covered his shoulders, small drops of it gathering in the small of his back. Belt-less, his trousers slung low on his hips, he looked in a word; fuckable. But that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t why his arms ached with the effort of trying to hold up his own weight, why his blood stained the floor from gashes that decorated his chest.
“Oh, Ha-ha-Harvey,” The Joker spoke with an amused lilt, knowing full well Harvey was bound with rope, hanging from the ceiling in a sewer no better for rats than humans.
Harvey continued to focus on his wrists as the pain sliced through his arms but sent shocks of heat to low in his belly. For a second he let go, his body dropping and Harvey’s bare feet landed on the floor. A shout of agony followed it as broken shards of glass tore into Harvey’s feet. Quickly, Harvey wrapped the rope tighter around his hands and groaned with the effort it took him to pull himself up off the floor.
“Say Uncle,” Joker said easily as palmed Harvey’s stomach, taut with exertion and the only part of Harvey not covered in cuts.
Harvey grimaced as he felt more of his blood flowing out of his body, “Fuck you.”
“Oh I want to,” Joker replied, his voice further away as he fetched something.
Harvey would have prayed if he was at all religious, not the whip but of course it was. His back was already coloured with lacerations, he was running out of places to hurt. Instead of the crack he expected, Harvey felt the soft leather against his throat, tighter and tighter it became until the light behind Harvey’s eyelid began to die, his lips pulsing as he gasped for air. His hands let go of the ropes, his feet colliding with the floor quickly, but Harvey couldn’t feel it. His body was completely numb as he stood on the broken glass.
“Wha-what have you done?” Harvey slurred as the Joker let go of the whip and cut Harvey down from the ropes. Harvey fell backwards, landing against the Joker but still no pain accosted him. Joker pushed him towards a chair about 8 feet in front of them but the path to it was laden with glass. Slowly, Harvey stumbled towards the chair, his mind almost detached from his body as he tried to gain purchase on this new world.
“Joker…” Harvey mumbled as he fell into the chair, his body sagging. A thumb brushed across the good side of Harvey’s mouth, before trying pulling him up by his lip but Harvey’s body wouldn’t move. Harvey was vaguely aware when the Joker kicked the chair back and then his head hitting the wall. This time the blood tingled as it wetted his hand and hair.
His eyelid flickered as Harvey tried to stop his hips from bucking, but it was too late, a groan slid out of his abused mouth. Harvey felt a hand in his hair as it forced his head to one side as teeth latched down on the soft skin of his throat. Another hand forced it’s way down his body, ripping and unzipping what was left of his clothes. Lust gripped Harvey as he felt the Joker’s wet mouth close around him, it was made even more powerful by the sensations that were returning from his feet upwards. Agony laced into the desire, Harvey was a writhing mess, every jerk and movement caused pain to radiate from various places in his body.
Then it was over, body spent and mind ragged. Left on the chair, Harvey hissed and grunted as he pulled the glass from his feet and stood to zip his pants. Beside the chair was a bottle of vodka, picking it up, Harvey opened it up, taking a long draw on the good side of his mouth then poured the rest of it over his wounds. No one could hear his screams as the alcohol burned.
Falling to his knees Harvey let out a breath, there was nothing left to burn or break so why did he keep coming back, keep insisting that he needed the deranged freak. Maybe he did, maybe he was just as sick as the Joker.
Two of a kind. That’s my kind of number. Harvey decided as he pocketed his coin off the table.
End
Author: Rae
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Harvey (Two-Face), Joker, Joker/Harvey.
Warnings/Spoilers: AU towards the end of TDK as well as slash, oral sex (M/M), sadomasochism and erotic asphyxiation.
Disclaimer: Bob Kane/DC Comics own Batman and all characters concerned. I just played with ‘em.
Summary: Should have seen your face, Harv, completely fuckable. Maybe we should try it some time.
J.
Author Notes: Sequel/Add-on of Broken Images but can be read as standalone. Last night I watched TDK and well I was feeling inspired.
---
Harvey Dent was a patient fool pretending that his life was going to change, to be like it was. Or that it would get better. But it wouldn’t, it would continue, descending, crashing, burning in to the ground faster than he could watch…
---
Drip, drip, drip, the noise incessant against the silent background. Eye closed, Harvey twisted his hands, a burn of pain licked at his wrists, a warm trickle of blood slid down his arms. Bare from the waist up, a sheen of sweat covered his shoulders, small drops of it gathering in the small of his back. Belt-less, his trousers slung low on his hips, he looked in a word; fuckable. But that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t why his arms ached with the effort of trying to hold up his own weight, why his blood stained the floor from gashes that decorated his chest.
“Oh, Ha-ha-Harvey,” The Joker spoke with an amused lilt, knowing full well Harvey was bound with rope, hanging from the ceiling in a sewer no better for rats than humans.
Harvey continued to focus on his wrists as the pain sliced through his arms but sent shocks of heat to low in his belly. For a second he let go, his body dropping and Harvey’s bare feet landed on the floor. A shout of agony followed it as broken shards of glass tore into Harvey’s feet. Quickly, Harvey wrapped the rope tighter around his hands and groaned with the effort it took him to pull himself up off the floor.
“Say Uncle,” Joker said easily as palmed Harvey’s stomach, taut with exertion and the only part of Harvey not covered in cuts.
Harvey grimaced as he felt more of his blood flowing out of his body, “Fuck you.”
“Oh I want to,” Joker replied, his voice further away as he fetched something.
Harvey would have prayed if he was at all religious, not the whip but of course it was. His back was already coloured with lacerations, he was running out of places to hurt. Instead of the crack he expected, Harvey felt the soft leather against his throat, tighter and tighter it became until the light behind Harvey’s eyelid began to die, his lips pulsing as he gasped for air. His hands let go of the ropes, his feet colliding with the floor quickly, but Harvey couldn’t feel it. His body was completely numb as he stood on the broken glass.
“Wha-what have you done?” Harvey slurred as the Joker let go of the whip and cut Harvey down from the ropes. Harvey fell backwards, landing against the Joker but still no pain accosted him. Joker pushed him towards a chair about 8 feet in front of them but the path to it was laden with glass. Slowly, Harvey stumbled towards the chair, his mind almost detached from his body as he tried to gain purchase on this new world.
“Joker…” Harvey mumbled as he fell into the chair, his body sagging. A thumb brushed across the good side of Harvey’s mouth, before trying pulling him up by his lip but Harvey’s body wouldn’t move. Harvey was vaguely aware when the Joker kicked the chair back and then his head hitting the wall. This time the blood tingled as it wetted his hand and hair.
His eyelid flickered as Harvey tried to stop his hips from bucking, but it was too late, a groan slid out of his abused mouth. Harvey felt a hand in his hair as it forced his head to one side as teeth latched down on the soft skin of his throat. Another hand forced it’s way down his body, ripping and unzipping what was left of his clothes. Lust gripped Harvey as he felt the Joker’s wet mouth close around him, it was made even more powerful by the sensations that were returning from his feet upwards. Agony laced into the desire, Harvey was a writhing mess, every jerk and movement caused pain to radiate from various places in his body.
Then it was over, body spent and mind ragged. Left on the chair, Harvey hissed and grunted as he pulled the glass from his feet and stood to zip his pants. Beside the chair was a bottle of vodka, picking it up, Harvey opened it up, taking a long draw on the good side of his mouth then poured the rest of it over his wounds. No one could hear his screams as the alcohol burned.
Falling to his knees Harvey let out a breath, there was nothing left to burn or break so why did he keep coming back, keep insisting that he needed the deranged freak. Maybe he did, maybe he was just as sick as the Joker.
Two of a kind. That’s my kind of number. Harvey decided as he pocketed his coin off the table.
End