Slipping Into Entropy - Part 35 - NSFW

[razothredfire]

In the other room Bruce finished packing and dug out his cell, calling the airport and letting them know the Wayne jet would be leaving within the hour. Hopefully traffic on the smaller runways would be lighter today.

There was only so quickly Joker could move when everything depended on the false "skin" filling the scars to dry before the next layer could be added. Keeping his head tilted, all he could do was wait. Finally, the goo solidified, letting him put the masking foundation over it and color things in to appear natural.

Going to see how the process was moving along, Bruce hovered outside the door, almost forgetting the madman's discomfort and going in at first. Eventually he stepped back and listened to the police radios while he waited.

Finishing up and tossing the supplies into the bag they'd come from, Joker couldn't stop himself from flinching unconsciously at Bruce's outline at the doorway. Shouldering the bag, he stepped out. "I'm done. Are you finished with everything else?"

"Yes. Let's get out of here." Bruce handed Joker his hat, grabbed the bags, and again they headed quickly down the stairwell and back into the car. Already knowing where the roadblocks were, Bruce got them to the airport in record time considering.

Feeling unusually paranoid, Joker kept his profile low, not cracking a joke or a smile even once they reached the relative safety of the airport. The last thing he wanted at the moment was the inconvenience of being caught and detained in Chicago, where no doubt the arrested elements of the mob were busy blaming him and each other for the fall of the tunnel system, looking for a scapegoat to stone.

Bruce took care of everything, from getting the runway cleared to their gear through the station, always keeping himself between the Joker and whoever he needed to talk to. Fortunately, only described as a friend, he needed no other credentials to get by while in the company of Bruce Wayne. It wasn't until they were back in the craft however, closing the hatch behind them that Bruce started to relax.

Setting the bag down in the cabin, Joker slipped behind Bruce, wrapping arms around him in silent gratitude. He hadn't missed the other man's calculated positioning, putting himself between "Mr. Wayne's Friend" and any stray paparazzi who might look too closely at the photos they snapped.

It gave Bruce pause enough to stop him in his tracks. "Thought you wanted to take my head off," he said quietly, holding onto the Joker's crisscrossed arms over his chest.

"...mmm. Maybe later. You didn't exactly willingly break your word. Perhaps now you'll be willing to rethink keeping me chipped like a pet dog," he murmured, his voice slightly bitter at the last. "Besides, nothing lasts. It'd hardly be appropriate for the teacher to fail his own lesson, even if the student failed to pick it up."

Bruce turned that over for a while before he responded. "They won't follow you anymore. I'll make sure of it." Moving out of the Joker's arms, he sat down at the controls and started up the plane, giving a short radio signal to the tower and checking the systems.

Pacing the cabin area restlessly, Joker resisted the urge to peer out of the porthole windows; watching wouldn't do any good, and it would appear suspicious. There was simply too much weighing on his mind for him to sit still, not only from the current situation but the culmination of the whole trip.

"You should sit down," Bruce told him as the plane meandered it's way down the track and then onto the runway. He gave Joker a moment and then pushed the gas, gunning the craft down the strip, feeling it lift, and rising up into the air at last. Smaller and smaller the buildings became below them.

Watching the signs of civilization shrink and disappear beneath the clouds, Joker knew on some level that he'd never return to that city again. It didn't particularly matter or grieve him, however; he was used to such changes and losses by now. Getting back up, he moved up the aisle into the cockpit, taking the copilot's seat. Watching Bruce's hands at the controls in silence, his gaze finally rose until he was left staring at the other man's face.

Bruce looked back after a while, noticing the Joker's somber expression. His posture suggested that he was at least relaxed, or maybe resigned. Bruce could only guess as to what he was feeling. "I'm sorry."

One eyebrow arching in surprise, Joker shook his head. "You seem to be sorry quite often. I'm more curious..." Leaning forward slightly, he peered up at Bruce. "...did you do all you did back there in an attempt to protect me, or protect yourself?"

That made Bruce smile almost ruefully, looking out the window and into the clouds ahead of them. "If I said the former, you wouldn't believe me." Then he fixed his gaze upon the Joker again. "But if they found me, if they questioned why I was following you, helping you, in the grand scheme of things, what would I have lost? Not much. A tarnished reputation, but I can get out of a lot." When they got out of the city, he'd done it to protect them both. He didn't think about it. Now......that the Joker asked, if one of them got caught, Bruce knew he would have taken the lighter fall.

"...so you're no longer worried that I'll sell your secrets to the highest bidder, hmm?" Joker asked, still pushing for an answer. "And you thought you'd be able to weasel out of trouble if they caught me with you, as well. Don't tell me Bat's finally grown a soft spot..." he teased, watching Bruce's face for the reaction his words might pull out of him.

His first reaction was a wry look aimed straight back at the Joker for the quip. "If you were going to turn me in, you'd have done it by now. You've passed up plenty of chances." Bruce felt fairly confident this was true. The Joker's obsession....may not allow him to do otherwise at the moment.

But things may not always be this way. A secret shared, once by force, now by a kind of trust may last for a while, but trust was such a delicate thing.... Impressions and infatuation, and even more, could be tarnished so easily and so unexpectedly, long after he thought they were secure. The creases in Bruce's brow grew deeper, and his eyes grew unfocused and expressionless. There was no going back now. Not just because he couldn't, but because this is what he chose.

To take that chance. And never to regret it.

"Perhaps so, perhaps not. You didn't answer the question, as always," Joker chided, leaning closer until he was thoroughly in Bruce's face, unable to be ignored. "For someone who needs to know so much, you certainly never indulge other people with the same favor."

"No. I don't think you'd turn me in." He held the Joker's gaze, but didn't return the confrontational air. "I think you would have no reservations about doing everything you could to make my life hell if you saw fit to it. But I don't think you would try to destroy me." And with a second thought, he added, "Though, should you ever get the urge, even that might not be the end of me. I'm pretty stubborn. If that mean's I've "got a soft spot", then...." he gestured flippantly and rolled his eyes back to the controls.

A pleased grin spread across the man's face, and he began laughing softly, moving closer to Bruce's ear. "You're right. I could if I wanted to, but I have no wish to destroy you. But if you knew that, you had no reason to protect me either, now did you?" Joker's eyes were drawn downward to his lover's neck, watching the pulse speed up visibly with marked amusement.

Bruce sensed the subtle change in Joker's demeanor instantly. His breath caught in his throat, but in spite of the surprise, he still felt his blood running downward. Hands firmly planted on the flight controls, he watched the Joker out of the corner of his eye.

His smile only widened. "Did you?" he repeated, one hand sliding down Bruce's forearm as the other stroked at the back of his neck. "So why, Bat of the Broken Promises, did you suddenly go from jailer to guardian? Hmm?"

He swallowed at the second question, and answered with one of his own. "Did you think I wouldn't protect you? That I would run away with out you and leave you there?" Joker's massaging touches felt good. He knew they were a tempting distraction, meant to either put him off-center or lull him into a relaxed state. But they still felt good.

"You certainly could have, but you didn't. You seem to only hold to your word when it pleases you, and you were so anxious to get rid of me in the past... If what you said was true, you could even have dropped 'careless' hints until someone got wise and came after me and been none the worse for wear. Even just stand aside and let someone look too close at my disguise, or even just let us get caught in your hotel room. But you didn't." His hands paused. "...well?"

Bruce pursed his lips and started up at the Joker. "I don't want you gone." There, he'd said it. Feebly, he thought that his assent to the refined terms of their deal should have prepared the madman for this, but then again, he couldn't exactly fault the man for being stubborn about it. Bruce recognized the need to know.

Knowing that that was probably the best answer he'd get out of the man, Joker gave a pleased laugh, then caught that pout for a moment with his own lips. "You should say that more often." Settling back into his own chair, Joker threaded his fingers together over his chest and closed his eyes, relaxing.

It was impossible for Bruce not to be a little surprised whenever he did something like this, meaningless but pleasant. With a soft sigh, he took his gaze off the Joker and went back to flying the plane. The silence between them was comfortable now. It may have had something to do with leaving Chicago; it may have been their brief conversation. Whatever it was, it was something to savor while they could.

Joker dozed off in the silence, lulled by the soft vibrations of the plane and the presence of the man sitting beside him. He slept through the few hours that it took to fly the short distance from Chicago to Gotham, exhausted from all that had transpired.

It was hard for Bruce to resist sleep's temptation as well, but he was fairly used to keeping long hours. Eventually they made their descent over the river and touched down back at Wayne Manor. There was simply no way he felt like going through another airport with the Joker in tow.

Stirring as the plane's movement stopped and the engine ceased its comforting humming, Joker stretched, the catlike movement ruined by the pops and creaks that accompanied it. Glancing out the cockpit window, his gaze slid sideways, giving Bruce a questioning look. "Now, are you certain there's no more surprises waiting for us here from your thoughtful employees?"

Bruce gave him a look. "Not unless they're trying to take me out as well." He gathered their luggage and released the door, stepping out into familiar air. Construction of the house had been coming along nicely while they'd been gone, and things were pleasantly quiet on the Wayne property.

Following him out of the plane, Joker still looked wary, his jaw tightening at the thought of how they'd turned the tracker against him. Despite the fact he'd given up on Chicago and his project there, he still thirsted for revenge.

The first thing Bruce did was head for the cave where he could finally get rid of at least half of the bags. He kept one; there were a few gadgets he liked to keep on his person whenever possible, and some contents that needed to be archived once they got back to the main lair. He fired up the computer system down there and ran a few checks. News in Gotham was still caught in a whirlwind over the Batman and the Joker, and the police were having trouble keeping the rising crime rates in check. Lucius had apparently been working some miracles at Wayne Enterprises however. A few high ranking members of the company had lost their jobs over the controversy, but the action had been taken swiftly, and even scandal hungry journalists had to commend the CEO for his work. Bruce was certain it hadn't been that easy, and he was sure to hear about it from the man soon.

Exploring the contents of the bags, Joker found the very few belongings he'd rescued from his mausoleum lair in Chicago. Gathering them up in his arms, he transported them all to the cave's bedroom, claiming one corner for himself. Everything made a pitifully small pile on the floor. Leaving his knives and cards and knick-knacks on the cold stone, he padded soundlessly out of the room to join Bruce in the main area.

"We're going to have to head back to the city soon," Bruce told him as he headed over. "I'm going to get Lucius to shut down his watch over the tracker. Limit access to the whole thing. I want to be the only one who can see it." He gave Joker a look. "......unless of course something really happens to me."

Joker stared back, the light of challenge in his eyes. "Why even keep me tagged? You've already seen what can happen if it's left in place..." Smirking for a moment, the madman slid onto Bruce's lap, straddling him and putting himself between the man and the distracting computer screens. "Or do you still not trust me?" he asked, laughing quietly.

"And what if I need to find you?" Bruce countered, placing his hands on the Joker's thighs. "I'm not so sure I'm ready to part with that gadget yet." He gave up trying to look at the monitor over the Joker's ear and leaned back into his chair. "Should I trust you?"

Chuckling, Joker framed the darker man's face with both hands, leaning closer to make certain he had Bruce's full attention. "Should you? You don't know just how much power you have, do you?" Green eyes flicked over his face, studying him before he locked gazes with him again, drawn irresistibly forward into a kiss. It was, Joker reflected, rather like a drug addiction - so much want focused on one thing, or person, all the time.

Bruce returned it, and they both enjoyed it languidly. "No. I suppose I don't," he replied. It was impossible not to see how much he affected the Joker, how unexpectedly he did, for the both of them. But to gauge how far it went, to measure it, was equally impossible. How well did the Joker really know himself?

Giving him a lopsided smile to try to hide the fear in his eyes, the lunatic avoided Bruce's gaze, watching his own fingers tug at the man's shirt instead. "...I won't spoil it by telling you, then."

"Fair enough." Bruce was always the first to respect another's emotional distance even though he was more than curious now. Watching the Joker's eyes flit back and forth, away from his own, couldn't be ignored. This was something new, not like his usual form of subterfuge. When Joker employed that, he did so head on, all confidence and smiles and his eyes never left Bruce's.

Something seemed to snap in the man, and Joker seized the hem of Bruce's shirt, pulling it up and clawing impatiently at the buttons. He didn't want to admit how much their trip had shaken him, didn't want to think too much about long-buried memories that were resurfacing, and he especially didn't want to admit that he was hungry for something to heal the reopened wounds.

The ferocity of it caught Bruce off guard and after the initial surprise, he, somewhat eagerly, went with the flow. But as he kissed the Joker again, wriggling his shirt open with the help of swift fingers, that irritating little voice in the back of his head refused to leave it alone. When those hands started exploring, the only thing he could think was that he didn't want a repeat of last night, so he caught them by the wrists and held them still. "Joker," he began softly, "How well do you know yourself?"

Mouth twisting into a snarl of displeasure, Joker still refused to meet Bruce's eyes. "Questions, questions, questions! Is that all you ever do when you're not racing about in a cape? Poking and prodding and prying?" I don't want to think! "Why does any of it matter?"

Well for one, because Bruce didn't want to get thrown on the floor again. For another..... "Because, sometimes, if you want something so bad.... If you don't know yourself, you can turn out to be your own worst enemy." He watched the Joker's angry eyes, but pressed on. It was strange because he felt like saying the words, he was discovering them himself. "Like a kid who makes a sand castle, building it up to perfection, yet trampling it without realizing what they've done until it's gone."

"... I don't understand you. And I don't know anything. I just... do," he growled, wrapping himself around Bruce's torso, burying his face by his neck. He truly had no idea what the Bat was talking about, nor why it mattered. Acting on instinct had always worked for him and had even gotten him out of a number of binds. To think of himself as his enemy was absurd; what ally did you have if not yourself?

Bruce couldn't help groaning at the Joker's almost unique way of winding around him. "Ahh.........then you've - " Breath. " - never done anything you regret?" He let the Joker move, is was so hard not to, but he kept himself still.

"What is there to regret? I don't live for the future or the past. I live for right now. I think you're confusing me with you," he murmured, running his tongue along Bruce's jugular vein before nipping at his ear. "I survive, no matter what happens. I told you once before, Bat. I will only let you hurt me the way I want, when I want. If you do otherwise, you'll learn exactly how displeased I am."

Bruce closed his eyes. "I do have a lot of regrets." Maybe that was just the thing with them. If the Joker lost Batman, then he would probably blame Batman. When Bruce had lost people he cared about, he blamed himself. Which was smarter? And which was right? "If that's the way you want to play it, then you make sure you keep it that way." Finally, he returned Joker's affections, telling himself that he was the one who needed to know himself.

"...what do you regret?" Joker asked, curious. He still didn't quite understand why the other man moped and fed his internal angst. Perhaps it was a bit like the way he enjoyed bleeding at times. Painful, yes, and what other people normally avoided, but it also brought him a different sort of pleasure and relief.

Pausing, Bruce pulled back a few inches so that he could look at the other man. "Actually....I was thinking more along the lines of what I don't want to regret." He had done things to push quite a few people away, both consciously and unconsciously. Some for god knew what reason. Quite simply, he didn't think that would be a good thing to do with an attempted mass murdering psychopath. He shifted a little awkwardly. All things considered, if he was really honest with himself, he was damn lucky to have gotten into this situation with the Joker. Somehow, he held the man back in some sort of precarious balancing act. And he didn't want to.....screw that up.

Grinning at the man's discomfort, Joker watched Bruce with amusement. "...you think entirely too much, Batsy," he chided, gently smacking him on the side of his head in a playful movement. "What do you think will happen that you'll regret? Our agreement binds both ways, you know. I'm just as tangled and caught as you are..."

He could only hope so. But that wasn't exactly what was on Bruce's mind at the moment. Shifting again, Bruce moved his hands back to the Joker's hips. "What I mean....is that I'm not about to let you go."

Eyes turning slightly serious, Joker sighed. "I'm learning to live with that. Just know I need some amount of freedom to live." His smile flickered to life again, giving his face a playful cast. "I'm not leaving or planning on giving up on you, if that's what you're meaning. I still believe you complete me, even when we're not playing games." Ah, but to play again!

Bruce nodded. "Good enough for me." His hands slid up the man's sides, over his back, and then down again, over his clothes, barely sensual, just...soothing. He leaned further back, expression bemused. "Didn't I say I'd get you some new clothes?"

"You did, you liar," Joker agreed. "Someone needs to learn to put his money where his mouth is. Or perhaps other things," he mused, digging fingers into Bruce's ribs to make him jolt in ticklish surprise. "Maybe you're just hoping I'll wear mine to threads so I'll have to take your castoffs or wear nothing at all."

That got Bruce to laugh. And then snarl. He jumped up, Joker with him, and hiked the man's legs up around his waist. "Is that what you think?" Turning, he planted the man in the chair he'd just been in and growled into his ear. "That all this has just been an elaborate plot to get you undressed?" In spite of his efforts, he couldn't help the curl of a smile forming at the edges of his mouth.

Thrilled at the reaction he'd gotten, as well as the fact the man had actually smiled and laughed, he returned the laughter. "I wouldn't put it past you, Bat. Not with all your unusual tastes. You did leave me in a bloody nurse outfit and locked in a cell for days, after all. Assault me in a mask. I'd say you have no room to argue..."

Tilting his head once in acquiescence, Bruce had to give the Joker that. There were a million other reasons the man could throw at him, some of which he already had, but Bruce got the feeling.....the Joker knew that already, but even though he gave him hell for it, he didn't exactly mind. Long as Bruce recognized it, and kept a leash on it..... "Do I hear you complaining?"

"Never," Joker purred back, grabbing hold of Bruce's shoulders and pulling him closer. "It makes things interesting. I get to see you be exactly what you are, see you in the rare moments you let yourself be free. You can't, as they say, rape the willing."

Bruce pulled the rest of his shirt free and began working on the Joker's, getting him out of it and undoing his pants in record time. While attacking his neck, Bruce lifted his hips so he could sit backward on the chair and let the Joker wind around him.

Pulse suddenly racing as Bruce attacked him, teeth at his neck and strong arms lifting him, he moaned and tilted his head in submission, twining arms and legs around the bigger man. He'd never thought he would have liked to bend to another's will so completely again, but somehow this was different. Had it been anyone else, he would have ripped them apart for even suggesting it. With Bruce, he would have rolled over and begged for it.

Wheels against the rock floor below them creaked as they moved frantically back and forth. Bruce just couldn't get enough of that slight, limber body writhing around him. It was impossible not to think of the last time he'd gotten this far with the Joker, and how abruptly that had ended, so Bruce let himself. But this, this was the here and now, and he tried to anchor himself here. Whatever....lurked under the surface with him, the madman pulling Bruce into him had seen it, and he was still here.

"More," he breathed into Bruce's ear, arching again as fingers stroked up his back. It was maddening, wanting everything at once. Trying to spur the other man on, he shifted and ground against his hips. "Whatever you want, anything, just more..." He'd accepted that he was well and truly lost, at this point. He'd been caught, but he was past caring.

"You shouldn't tell me that," Bruce breathed back before he caught the Joker's lips, loving the taste of the healing cuts. He lifted the Joker quickly and pulled his pants the rest of the way off then pushed him back into the chair. He forced his own pants down his thighs and rested his forehead against the Joker's, staring into his eyes and breathing hard.

His green eyes were full of wild fire and lust but, oddly enough, devoid of fear. Snatching Bruce's head with both hands, holding his gaze in place, his insanity showed through his smile. "Maybe I shouldn't. But maybe I mean it. Where else can one be free to be a monster than with others of your kind?" His heart was in his throat, fear finally apparent as Joker considered what he was about to do next. Releasing Bruce, he let his hands fall to his sides, tilting his head to expose his neck, swallowing nervously. "...I'm yours."

Bruce ran a hand up the side of his face and through his hair, watching him with fascination. He was amazed. Amazed that Joker had not learned anything from their last encounter. Or maybe.....maybe he had. Maybe....he'd just started trusting Bruce that much. Either that, or he didn't and he was simply a slave to his obsession. Bruce suspected a little of both. Whatever it was, Bruce decided not to take that ounce of trust lightly.

He leaned down and mouthed at the Joker's neck. A hand slid up the inside of his thigh and pressed against the arousal between the madman's legs. Bruce watched, enjoying the Joker's utter release of control.

The lunatic arched against him with a moan, his rapid pulse visible at his neck as he squirmed and writhed, trying to get that maddeningly still hand to move. The slow pace was too much for him; his skin tingled and he burned and he wanted more now. "C'mon.... c'mon," Joker panted, his voice slowly taking on a pleading tone.

Smirking against his neck, Bruce took his sweet time adding pressure and then easing it. He began to move his hips in slow circular motions, catching his own hand between them. His other arm pulled the Joker's hips into his before it snaked downward, running underneath the writhing man and then back up again.

The cave was filled with the echoing sounds of lust and frustration, the madman being driven even more insane from Bruce's slow, incessant teasing. His muscles jerked every now and again, his nerves overloaded as they didn't know how to handle the pleasurable input without a dose of pain to counterbalance it. Both had always been present before, and the current lack left Joker shivering and uncertain. "...hit me, bite me, something, I don't know if I can-..."

"Can what?" Bruce didn't stop, but he didn't pick up the pace either. "I know you like it, but you told me you wanted a variety." His words were teasing; he could easily see the Joker was crawling out of his skin, but Bruce just had a need to press these things. "What will that do for you?" he whispered into the madman's neck.

Joker's breath kept catching, shudders moving up from the base of his spine to his neck. "Vari-...yes, but-... goddammit," he whispered, tears leaking out of the corners of his closed eyes. "You're... going to-...kill me. Torture... to death." His frame jerked again, struggling and writhing against the overwhelming sensations. "Never-... done.... like this..."

Bruce pulled up to watch him. He looked almost like he was in pain. "Never?" he whispered into the Joker's ear. "Not even by yourself?" And that, that was quite a mental image. It also took Bruce by surprise, that he had never really imagined the Joker as a sexual being before, simply a teasing, taunting, merciless madman with an obsession for only the Batman.

Looking slightly feverish, Joker shook his head, biting his lower lip in an attempt to add a bit of distracting pain. "No, never." His breathing came a little easier with the pause, grateful for a bit of respite to recover. "Why is that surprising?"

Bruce arched an eyebrow. "I suppose it isn't. For you." He had suspected it a while ago, but put the thought aside for later. He hadn't expected the Joker would need the violence like he seemed to. It was clear the madman enjoyed it, but Bruce had thought that was all part of his tastes. That he didn't know another way, not that he couldn't handle it without the violence. "Is it that overwhelming?" Bruce asked, honestly fascinated as he let his free hand roam over the Joker's warm skin, his other still keeping pace with his hips.

Hissing, his eyes closed and he pressed against the back of the chair, Joker couldn't respond; it was like trying to answer a question while drowning, or being flayed alive. Even if you heard what was asked, your brain was simply getting too much important feedback from your body to bother putting a coherent thought together. He jerked and writhed again, his shaking hands on Bruce's shoulders unable to even push the other man away or signal him to stop.

Watching him, spellbound, Bruce couldn't help but be amazed. After all the times he had tried to undo the Joker through pain, who would have suspected that pleasure with nothing more would be his downfall? It was....rather erotic, actually. If it really was torture for the madman, he would have to be careful though. But with this discovery, a challenge had been laid down, and Bruce just couldn't resist taking it up. He licked his fingers, and then finally, one by one, began to prepare the man he had locked down.

A thin sheen of sweat covering him as he tried to endure what he'd never experienced before, the exact opposite of what his body had adjusted and become accustomed to, he watched Bruce with pleading eyes. "...my... big-...mouth, y-...yes?" he managed to gasp out, wondering if there might not be something to this 'regret' thing Bat had talked about.

Bruce hushed him with his mouth over the Joker's, moving each of his fingers inside of him slowly, languidly, drawing out the motions. "Just lean into it," he whispered. "Just go with me. Focus on my voice if you have to." He breathed into the madman's ear, licking around its shell, then went back to his throat, pulling his body flush against Bruce's and adding another finger, searching.....

"....oh....god....st-" His breathy whispers were suddenly cut off as he seized up, his muscles tightening as he screamed loud enough to disturb the cave's winged residents from their perches. Joker couldn't make his body obey him, not even to push Bruce away. His whole universe had contracted to a few sensitive points.

After the echoes dissipated, only their erratic breathing and the soft beats of leathery wings floated through the cave. Bruce halted all movement, and simply remained tangled with the Joker. He looked like he was in agony, unable to control himself. Yet he hadn't lashed out. "It's okay," Bruce whispered against skin slick with sweat.

"...just...stop...too much," Joker murmured back, lightheaded and dizzy from the rush of painful pleasure and his own rapid breathing. "...don't... think I...can, I don't... feel like... you do..."

Bruce exhaled softly. "Alright." It was simple. Too much, too soon. "We'll do this slowly." He had an idea. Running one of his hands slowly down the Joker's back, he kept everything else absolutely still. When he felt the man beneath him tense, he bit down at the skin on his neck, not incredibly hard, but enough to balance out the caress.

Joker immediately become more fluid, arching into the touches as his body filtered what his nerves were feeling from past experiences. The madman sighed in relief, wrapping his arms loosely around the other man. When I told you to do what you wanted, I wasn't expecting torture...

"That's better?" Bruce couldn't help the grin sneaking into his lips. Once again he started moving, both hands. The pace was just as slow, just as languid, but every now and again he gave a sharp bite to the lithe man's neck, or collarbone. He couldn't deny there was a certain thrill to it, knowing he'd see the marks later when the Joker was all but unaware of them himself.

The smaller man moaned and thrust his hips against Bruce's hand every time he left toothmarks on him, the muscles of his stomach quivering as his lust spilled over, drop by drop, into a clear pool on his skin. As much as he'd teased the hero when he'd had him at his mercy, Joker found the idea of himself helpless before his former enemy enthralling and more than a little erotic.

And if Bruce had thought he'd made a sight to see before, he was a vision now. Back arching, contorting himself between Bruce and the chair, hips coming up, head tossing to the side, slender legs wrapping around Bruce's waist, he started to suspect Joker had turned that "torture" around on him. "God." Fingers slipping free were replaced immediately, and Bruce just couldn't push deep enough. His hips snapped forward and he was losing control of himself, finding his teeth coming down harder, rougher while his hands tried to sooth the skin beneath him. His body simply wanted to bury itself in the smaller man. This was one challenge Bruce was going to fail, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Wrapping himself tighter as he kept rhythm with Bruce's movements, Joker gave a soft cry near his ear. This, he could understand. This, he knew how to enjoy, from the teeth tearing into him to the insistent pressure inside and out as his lover pressed forward again and again until he was buried to the hilt. Joker opened himself and let go, riding the waves of pleasure and pain until he thought he'd pass out.

Bruce was gasping. This....this....god, this made all the difference. "Aahhhh....." Soon he was shouting the Joker's name, his fists holding the Joker's arms in a bruising grip, licking and biting, pinning him down so that he could, could....because he could. Because the Joker would do this for no one but him. Because Batman....because Bruce, embodied so many things in the madman's life, and Bruce reveled in it. He could feel fire licking inside his stomach. The wheels of the chair grated against the ground. Bats fluttered overhead. And when he was done with the madman's neck, he forced his own growls straight into the Joker's ear.

Joker's eyes rolled back in his head as he clung to his lover and screamed once more - screamed for him. Not any of the pet names that he called him as he teased and taunted him on a regular basis, but for Bruce. Every bit of pain that he received along with the rest just threw him further into ecstasy, and the sound of the other man's voice in his ear had been the last straw.

Bruce felt it, immediately, when the Joker's body hit its climax. Winding around him like a hellish nymph, one long, deep shudder seeping out of him and into Bruce, was a positively infallible way of bringing Bruce down with him. He grabbed the Joker by his hair, watching his eyes as Bruce lost control of himself, overflowing.

The lunatic moaned as he felt it just as clearly, the heated, internal twitch of muscle that came with carnal bliss. They stared into each other as one poured out into the other. When they finally came to the breathless end, Joker hummed in appreciation, pulling Bruce closer to try to pull his soul loose with a kiss.

Awash in euphoria, entire body buzzing in an electric state of aftershocks, Bruce plummeted into it. He let the Joker take all that he wanted from his mouth while he desperately tried to breath again afterward. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he slumped into the slimmer man.

Pulling him in and holding him captive, it was enthralling to see and feel having such a powerful creature under his sway. Which one of us is the pet, hmm? Running hands over his back, Joker finally broke the kiss and let Bruce catch his breath. "You're lucky, Bat. I think it was inevitable that we'd meet. Where else would you find someone who understands and knows, much less lets you do whatever you want?" he purred.

It was strange hearing his own thoughts voiced with the ego of the madman. Bruce only sighed, too sedate at the moment to care. He shifted, wrapping his arms up the Joker's back and rested his hands atop his shoulders. He knew he was getting more comfortable with this, with not restraining all of himself in front of the Joker. That had once horrified him, and it still did make him nervous, a little. But the madman wasn't trying to take him out of the picture. It wasn't something to be used against him. Bruce thought he wanted to see this side of him because he liked it, and it really may be as simple as that. That was a difficult conclusion to come to, not to see another motive.

"I suppose so," Bruce answered finally.

Joker just smiled at him, watching him with that manic, worshipful look again. "Since I seem to fulfill your wishes quite nicely, perhaps you'll turn out to do the same for me, hmm?" He never cared much for or about money, but to be able to have a permanent place to hide out, never worry about food? Be able to play with the most interesting toys and do as he pleased? Receive as much attention as he wanted, in exactly the way he wished, whenever he wished it? He could grow used to such things.

What the Joker wished for, minus Bruce himself and the few material possessions he had specified once or twice, was a bit of a mystery to the billionaire. Was it enough for him to convince Bruce that they had something in common, or was he still driven to convince the world as well? "What do you wish for, Joker?"

Tsking, he cuffed Bruce playfully on the side of the head. "Bats, oblivious as ever. It's really very easy. I'm a simple man with simple tastes. Most of the time, a good hideout, enough food, and a few toys to occupy my attention is good enough for me. Unless I get bored or have an idea," he added. "You know, until I saw you, I hadn't felt like the world needed waking. Why should I care to prove my philosophy? You, you took your ideas and projected them out onto people. You changed the way everyone viewed and played the game. I probably would have come eventually even if the Gotham mob hadn't contacted me through my Chicago acquaintances..."

Tilting his head to see the Joker's expression, Bruce gave him a small, bemused smile. That was probably the closest he'd ever gotten to a concession, or at least an appreciation, from the Joker about their opposing views of the world and what Bruce chose to do with his life. "That shouldn't be too very difficult to accommodate." The penthouse had plenty of space; Bruce could section off an entire floor for his "guest"'s privacy if he felt like it, but the manor when it was finished would be ideal. Few unexpected guests, far less people in general, acres of land, and all the privacy one could dream of were what Bruce missed. It was easy for him to move about the city, but the Joker, especially after their stint in Chicago, would have a much harder time of it.

"Ah, but you're forgetting something. Dear Freddy isn't going to want to make things easy, now is he? The last thing he tried to do was put a permanent hole through me. I can only imagine what he'll try once you tell him I'm a permanent dinner guest. Maybe spike my drink with ground glass dust," he giggled, knowing from experience just what that did to another person.

"You're enjoying this far too much for someone who's honestly worried about their own well being," Bruce commented with a suspicious air. He grew a little more serious then. "I got the feeling Alfred wasn't going to be coming around for a while after your last "encounter", but.....Chicago may have changed things." Since talking to Lucius, Bruce hadn't gotten any more calls from the butler. After a fiasco like that however, it was hard to believe the man would stay away for very long.

"Oh? And just how would it have changed things, hmm? He still thinks I'm something you could be, or could have become if you weren't steeped in so many rules and boundaries. I think he's worried about bad influences upon his little vigilante boy," Joker teased. "Or maybe he thinks I don't know how to use a litterbox and will ruin your carpeting."

"Probably a little of both," Bruce commented wryly. "Before we left, he was expecting to leave me on my own with you. After that catastrophe, I think he'll be back sooner rather than later." With a leisurely crack of the neck and shoulders, Bruce pulled himself somewhat back together. "If he hasn't already, he will come back eventually. You'll just have to deal with it."

"I'll have to deal with it?" the madman cackled, grin nearly splitting his face in two and making the curved scars twist oddly. "Bats, I'm going to have so much fun with him. I think he is the one who's going to have trouble dealing with it." Leering at the other man, Joker's grin turned into a smirk. "...was he right to worry about leaving you alone with me?"

"You are not going to have any fun with him whatsoever," Bruce growled sternly, completely ignoring the Joker's question as he finally untangled himself and got to his feet, pulling his pants back up around his waist. "You already know how little qualms he has over ending your life. You don't want to start this." Bruce glared at him as he picked his shirt off the ground.

"Oh, come on," the green haired man whined, tugging at Bruce's waistband playfully. "It's too tempting not to. I won't play rough, I promise. He'd probably break into pieces, from the look of him. He's just practically begging for someone to pull his chain!"

"NO." Bruce all but whirled on the mischievous Joker. Halfway through buttoning his shirt, he gave it up and placed his hands on the arms of the madman's chair, bending low to stare at him eye to eye. "How do you think we've gotten into this mess with him in the first place? If you pull anything, so help me, I will make you miserable."

"I didn't do anything to tick him off in the first place, other than steal some groceries and hair dye," Joker pointed out, enjoying the view while he could. "Perhaps a little humor would lighten the stiff up a bit. He's got to deal with me sometime. I'm a... permanent fixture."

One of Bruce's hands wound its way into those green curls, pulling tightly. "Don't give me that bullshit, Joker. You will leave him alone." He let the man's head go with a jerk and a glare, stepping back to finish pulling his clothes together.

One hand going to his aching scalp, the smaller man went into a pout, shoulders hunching down submissively even though a sort of hurt resentment showed on his face. "Just because you have ties to me doesn't mean you get to order and I'll obey, Bat," he grumbled, wondering what he could do to get the man back for this.

"Not. Alfred." Bruce's tone was flat. When he finished putting his cufflinks back into place, he sighed. The Joker was slumped in on himself and looking miserable. Considering him for a moment, Bruce eventually tried to wipe the iciness away from his expression and explain. "He's always been there for me. I'm not going to treat him like trash, nor let anyone else do it. Even for you." His eyes focused on an imaginary spot in the floor. "I've got to fix this."

"...won't treat him like trash," Joker muttered sulkily, looking hilariously like a toddler who'd had his hand smacked and been stuck in the corner to think about his deeds. It was slightly odd for him to try to imagine what Bruce might see in the elderly man, might have experienced; he had nothing to compare it to.

The Joker's unconscious parody unnerved Bruce far more than it should have. Quickly, he looked away, putting his thoughts back in order. "Good." He glanced back to the petulant man - child - thing, and the air about him had not changed. Bruce swallowed, finding it difficult, and more than a little uncomfortable, not to see the hard eyed boy of twenty years ago. "Look, we'll go back into the city, get you some real clothes, real space, whatever you want. Alright?"

Quirking an eyebrow at the other man, he looked more than a little skeptical. "What do you mean, 'real space'? You promised me the clothes already, and the ability to move without being locked in one room. I don't need much to live on. If you're offering me anything, though..."

"You've seen a bit of the penthouse, but I'm sure you'll want to know where go to avoid being noticed. I don't keep a lot of staff, and I don't have many guests, but from time to time there's no avoiding it." Bruce shrugged, more comfortable now that the Joker dropped that boyish demeanor. "And then there's always my rooms, of course."

"...so you're telling me every piece of your living quarters is riddled through with secrets? This, I can't wait to see." Secret passages allowed for endless amounts of pranks, especially if the young billionaire was going to have social calls and parties. Grinning as Bruce, one could almost see the malevolent gears turning in his head. "And what if I don't want my own room? What if I want to share with you, hmm?"

Bruce shrugged. "No one goes in it, besides Alfred." Even he didn't spend much time there. Usually he was down in the caves. He could barely imagine where the Joker slept on a day to day basis. He imagined places like the fairly dilapidated apartment he'd found him in a while back.

"Ah. And you're sure he won't try to kill me again if he comes to wake you up and finds me instead?" the smaller man teased. "Perhaps if I put on my best mopey, dour affectation he'll mistake me for you and leave me alone..."

"I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" Bruce offered, ignoring the Joker's snide remark. As much as he tried not to think of them, questions that no one would have the answer to but Alfred had been lurking in his mind for the past day or so. He didn't know if it was Alfred or Lucius' idea to hunt down the Joker, but he go the feeling that the latter would back down and listen to reason if he could just sit with Bruce and talk about it. Either that or leave his job. Bruce was very much hoping for the former.

"I suppose we will," Joker replied in sing-song, laughing despite the lack of reaction he'd gotten from the other man. There were little tell-tale twitches, lines that formed around the corners of his eyes and mouth; he might not have exploded, but the teasing was having an effect all the same. "When do you suppose we can expect Mr. Blackadder to appear on stage?"

"Don't get too excited," Bruce sidestepped in irritation. "I'll be seeing him alone when we get back to Gotham. I don't want you near him. Not until I can sort some of this out." Leveling his gaze on the Joker while running his hands down his chest to smooth out the rumpled fabric he added, "You'll thank me when you walk away without a new hole in your chest."

"Mmmm. You still owe me an initial," Joker murmured back, still unphased, rising up under the man's touch like a cat craving one more stroke. He'd never really feared death, having already passed through hell and back and come close to dying so many times. What came after didn't seem so important. "You know, Bats, you seem more afraid of him shooting me down than I am..."

Bruce's eyes flickered to the Joker's chest. "You'll have to let that heal first." It was a strange thing to think about, marking the other man's skin in the same way his own had been. At least, it was now. Only a few minutes ago, it wouldn't have seemed unusual to him. The night before, it wouldn't have been strange either. In fact, it would have been very appealing. Before the Joker brought him back to the real world. The one in which Bruce Wayne puts others before himself. In that world, branding the Joker as his own....made him a little uncomfortable. At least, in either world, Bruce could agree that he was indeed afraid of the Joker getting gunned down. He gave a halfhearted shrug. "And I am. Afraid you'll do something rash, and get hurt."

Joker just grinned. "I always do something rash. I thought that was your job description as Guardian of the Night, taking care of others in one way or another." Leaning back, the clown took in the other man's profile, drinking the sight in. It was easy to see how the high society of Gotham would be stricken with Bruce, if not for his money than for his looks. What was most intriguing, however, was never shown to those outside: what he really was inside. "What are you planning to tell Ol' Freddy? 'I found a clown wandering around outside. Can I keep him?'"

"He didn't fall for that when I was twelve. I doubt he will now." Bruce remarked, unaware of the Joker's scrutiny. "Get dressed." He began powering down operations in the cave, setting the computer system on standby. "That suit you had, that was custom made, right?"

"Yes, from mob money and dire threats," the slender man chuckled, getting up from the chair. "I'm still waiting for you to make good on that promise. You don't own anything with any color, much less anything that fits me. The deal was I got to pick my own threads out, remember?" Pulling on the garments that had fallen to the floor, the corner of his mouth twitched in displeasure.

Bruce's mouth pulled upwards just as the Joker's fell. "I've booked a tailor, to meet us at the penthouse later this evening. If you get a good enough disguise down over those scars, you can request anything you want." Taking out a few containers from a wall of lock-boxes, Bruce set them in front of the Joker. They were filled with an assortment of disguise materials. Makeup, putty, latex, wigs, facial hair, everything Bruce himself had begun using whenever he needed to be someone other than Batman or the prince of Gotham.

Eying the boxes, his gaze finally flickered back up to the dark haired man. "...I'm going to have to do a lot more detail if I'm going to have a stranger that close, holding measuring tapes over me, you realize," Joker grumbled, knowing full well what was required for accurate measurements. Before, it hadn't been a problem; scantily dressed or no, no tailor was going to try anything against a madman with two knives in his hands, and he hadn't been trying to hide his identity. "...I'm going to have to redo my face very carefully, as well as... everywhere else." There would be no use hiding the wound on his chest, either.

"I'm sure we'll think of something. You could just tell her you're shy," Bruce began flippantly, "and then have me do it." He moved behind the Joker looking through the boxes, and ran his hands up the man's sides. "I'll bet it happens all the time."

Shivering, a wide smile flowing into place in response to the touch, Joker leaned back into Bruce. "Mmmmm. I like that idea. I had no idea you wanted to play the voyeur and watch. Or are you worried about me murdering the seamstress after she finishes?"

"You will harm no one within my house," Bruce whispered into his neck, biting as he did so. "Now get ready. I'm going to make a call." He let go, leaving the Joker to peruse through the supplies, already knowing he was capable of figuring out how to use them, and fished for his phone.

A little quiver of excitement racing through him at both the whispered words and the sharp press of teeth, Joker complied, digging through the supplies and pulling out what he needed. Jars and tubes and brushes and sponges and other odds and ends piled up, and he snatched a brown wig before taking his cache and heading to the lair's bathroom.

After watching him go with a nagging feeling of curiosity, Bruce turned his attention back to the phone in his hand. He dialed the first number in it and the line picked up almost immediately.

"Bruce."

"Alfred."

"It's good to hear from you again."

"Lucius said the same." They sounded short. Offbeat. Like neither knew how to talk to the other one anymore. "He told me what happened. In Chicago. How you tracked us-"

"How we tracked the Joker."

"....yes." Silence. Long, hanging, silence. There was no point in telling Alfred what he already knew. That he had told Bruce he'd leave them alone. That Bruce hadn't told them where he was going because he needed to get away from them, from everything. That Alfred had been worried for his life, and because of that, had nearly ruined his truce with the Joker in Chicago. All of it floated along the airwaves between them. "Things have changed. He's staying with us now." Bruce sighed. "And I do need to talk to you. About...everything." He wasn't sure if Alfred would understand that he meant more than just the Joker, and the butler's resentment about him, but there was no way he could explain it over the phone.

"Of course, Master Wayne." Bruce could hear the resignation in his voice.

Once he was alone in the cool, tiled room once again, Joker stripped off most of his clothing, ignoring the goosebumps that appeared as the chill of the cave met his skin. Bringing out the putty and latex he used to fill in and smooth over the ravaged parts of his flesh, he began applying it to the many spots on his body that needed disguising. When his skin looked like it was spotted instead of one color all the way over he left it to dry, turning his attention to doing a more careful, detailed job on his face, tilting his head as he went so the substance wouldn't drip and run.

When Bruce got off the phone with Alfred, he sat back down in the chair that the Joker had vacated. The heady scent of sweat and sex still hung in the air, but Bruce couldn't shake sense of apprehension that had washed over him since hanging up. Even after seven years of nonexistence, Alfred had accepted him back and stood by his side. He had changed considerably from the young man he'd been before he left, but besides quite a bit of grumbling, the butler had been there for him in his new endeavors. In a way, those endeavors had only been an extension of what the Wayne family had always been about. Extending help to others, to the world. But now, Bruce was exploring a different kind of endeavor, one to look not out into the world, but into himself. And so far, he wasn't sure if the man who had been his guardian for the better part of his life would like what he saw.

A/N: Raz got laid off and still has no job. Raz has no money and no job. Happy Holidays, indeed. :/ Sorry for the delays.