Slipping Into Entropy - Part 22 - NSFW

[razothredfire]

Entering the house was like like stepping into the beginning of a maze. Piles of stone, wood, and drywall littered the halls here and there like obstacles. The walls were high but bare, and most of the rooms had been sectioned off but not fleshed out, and in a mansion this size, there were enough of them to make a labyrinth. Bruce recognized the main areas though; the lobby hall, ballrooms, and the main kitchen. They went there first, assuming the staff had set this room up first for their own benefit. He was not disappointed. There was a large refrigerator, the counters were finished, and a large table sat in its center with a large TV mounted against the wall. Several discs of some kid's show sat atop the DVD player sitting in front of it. Batman moved them out of the way to switch on the monitor.

Joker watched him sullenly, wondering why Batman was so caught up in what other people might be saying. He occasionally watched television, but only for the hilarity of watching others' reactions after a prank; he didn't actually care what they thought. "...I thought you said we were going back."

"You've give us the headlines, once again," Bruce explained as the thing came to life, switching to GCN. The channel was a bit fuzzy, the house's wiring hadn't been installed yet, but it was watchable. Luckily, they'd caught the first segment of the show. One of Mike Engel co-hosts was briefly outlining the headlines for the night before he dove in on the main attraction.

"In the wake of the only once before precedented breakout of Arkham Asylum, the criminal mastermind known only as "Joker" has been eluding the Gotham PD for days. Even after making an appearance to publicly accuse and humiliate local billionaire Bruce Wayne, has he managed to escape the clutches of the police. After which events Wayne Enterprises has seen severe investigation; whether founded still remains to be seen. During this time the force has come under heavy criticism from the public and administration alike. Seeming to have a bounty on his head, the Wayne heir then endures the defamation of the his parents' family plot in Gotham cemetery by Batman, who took his signature black tank on a rampage through the downtown streets injuring several people and hospitalizing four.

Tonight we'll take a closer look at this unusual turn of events. What has caused the criminal underworld to pursue a vendetta against Bruce Wayne? Did the Joker have help escaping Arkham Asylum, specifically, from Gotham's own Dark Knight? So far speculation abounds and little fact has been made available by the police nor Wayne PR. Here, we hope to change that."

Joker perked up upon hearing that he and Bats was the center of attention, drumming his fingers on the table as he listened. A satisfied grin touched his lips when the newscaster began speculating about the connection between them, and the fact that the public thought Batman had gone on a hit-and-run before detonating the cemetery plot. Only four? Damn. I thought I got more...

Bruce on the other hand, felt nauseous at the news. He had seen the wreckage of course, before the Joker took the tumbler to deliver the final blow to him personally, but he hadn't followed up on who had been injured. There had been no time. He had been too distracted afterward. It was like being pulled back into reality.

They went on to emphasize, besides the recent rampage, Batman's absence in the city as of late. There was only one thing it correlated to, which was the Joker's escape. Coincidence? Not in the eyes of the station; maybe not in the eyes of the public after they watched this program.

As much as Bruce's mood had dropped at the newscaster's ramblings and theories, Joker's had soared; this was exactly what was supposed to happen. "Shine that Batlight all you want, Commish. Batsy's caught up in a game of hide-and-seek, and he can't tell who's hiding or who's seeking," he giggled, rocking his chair back on two legs.

The Joker's mocking words caught Bruce in a building wave of misery and guilt. They sank into the dark figure for a moment before he swung in anger, knocking the remorseless clown off of his chair. "You did this," he seethed, "and you think you've won something?"

Smiling in response, gazing up from the floor, he spread his arms broadly, indicating both the space they were in and his present company. "...you think I haven't?" he shot back playfully, kicking his feet around Bruce's leg to topple him over.

Balance lost, Bruce fell. Having been already so practiced in the action however, he twisted slightly in the air and brought his weight down on the Joker with an elbow to the gut. "You kill for attention? Because you're too screwed up to find another way. Pathetic."

The breath knocked out of him, Joker couldn't reply, but his expression said it all; he found them to be exactly the same, and thought it was absolutely rib-tickling that Bruce was blindly oblivious to the fact... or in denial. "...as I...remember it... I seem to have gotten it," he wheezed, trying to draw air back into his lungs.

Furious and disgusted with the man below him, Bruce could think of no other way to get out of this situation besides making their differences obvious. "I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion; deformed, unfinished, sent before my time into this breathing world, scarce half made up; since I cannot prove a lover, am determined to prove a villain," he spat in contempt. A Wayne could mock the Joker just as well in his own fashion.

"...that may be true, but who says I can't be both?" he shot back, not perturbed in the least. Is throwing names or fists at me all that he knows how to do? He cackled. "What is insanity, anyway? Is it when you scream and everyone else whispers, or is it when you fight for what's 'right', even when everyone else thinks you're wrong?"

"Insanity isn't an excuse for villainy, Joker," Bruce sneered. "The nature of evil isn't made, it simply is." Like energy, it couldn't be created or destroyed, it had to be transfered; ever present, ever changing. After everything he'd learned, Bruce wasn't ready to forgive Joker anything.

The madman regarded Bruce, for once, with utmost pity; the effect was chilling. "...Poor Bats. You just don't get how the world works, do you? Tell me, Brucy, would you still run around like a costumed freak at night, beating the living snot out of those unfortunate enough to cross your path, if dear mummy and daddy hadn't decided to go strolling down a seedy alleyway dressed in their finest? Can you even decide for yourself whether your ideas of 'evil' are inherant or chosen? You seem to think it's both at once!" he pointed out, the corner of his mouth twitching up but that sad light of sympathy still present in his eyes.

"I could have had revenge," Bruce hissed, unable to wipe the snarl from his features, "I almost did." There was no way the Joker could have known how close he'd come to killing the man who'd taken his parents' lives, nor for how long afterward he'd wished he'd done it. "Go ahead and tell me you became a killer because you were never loved, because of how......"scarred" you mad yourself. Others in your place have chosen differently once freed, you chose to enact your vengeance on the world instead. That's choice, yes; influence, yes; but it isn't cause and effect outside of your own self."

Joker's eyes narrowed, but his smile only grew wider. "...that's what you say. Whatever it is you're hiding away in some dark nook inside you? That sings a completely different tune."

"Someone once told me it's what you do that defines you," Bruce shot back, only then able to pull himself mentally out of the discourse. He pulled himself back up to his feet, the Joker along with him, and shoved him back into his former chair. GCN had begun interviewing witnesses by then. There were people from the street, there was an assistant from Arkham, there were people vouching for Wayne Ent., no doubt those Lucius had spoken of earlier. But there were also experts from rival companies, speculating on Wayne's associations with the most notorious villain and hero of Gotham.

Joker's mouth twitched, still smiling though his eyes now held a glint of anger. "You still can't seem to make up your mind, Bat. Do you honestly think that everything is choice, or that things simply are the way they are?" Irritated that the man hadn't seen fit to respond or react in any way, he jumped to his feet.

Letting the words sink in, Bruce had to concede. "No," he responded, shaking his head slowly, then more firmly, "No, I don't." It was true, he didn't know what set him off. He'd been trying to make reason out of the Joker, the Joker in his mind, the one that didn't need a reason to be what he was. That Joker simply "existed", sprung into the world already made like Athena out of Zeus' head. If it had been another's nightmare he'd spied upon, he wouldn't have thought so. Men have spent their lives trying to understand the nature of evil; no matter what he thought of the Joker, he couldn't claim to understand all its intricacies. In prison, he had witnessed both.... Alfred had more than influenced Bruce's image of the Joker. A man who simply wanted to watch the world burn, he'd said. And Bruce believed that was true. "Not all men have a reason to be the way they are," he went on, yielding, "But most do."

Slowly his eyes rose to meet the fiery green ones staring him down. "It's you, I can't forgive."

"And why do you think I so need it?" he hissed back, his smile wiped away as black rage finally bared its fangs. "I am, without apologies. You should do the same, but you can't seem to shake some internal feeling that you must constantly repent what you are, hide it in shame." He stalked closer, nervous energy vibrating off of him in waves, looking like he was ready for a fight. "What's to forgive?"

At that Bruce could feel his face grow hot. When the words turned his way, he felt trapped. It was such a jolt, going from something completely outside himself to something so personal as his own guilt. Whether founded or not, it was something he had always carried, always seeking, unable to lose. His breath wavered. "I'm not like you, Joker."

"Like hell you aren't," he snarled, slinking over to sit, straddling Bruce's waist, both hands moving in a clawlike motion to snatch his cowled head and force the Bat to look at him. "Not exactly, no. You don't have a sense of humor or the ability to lighten up, you see everything in flat black and white like a freak with an Obsessive Compulsive personality, and you have a lovely desire to pummel everything you don't understand, you fear, you don't agree with... to avoid the uncomfortable questions and fears infested and festering inside you. No, I think you sense we're alike, and you just don't want to admit it. You can't admit that grey exists, much less that there's black in you, no... And then call me the insane one." His breath hissed through teeth clenched in anger, sharp-eyed, looking ready to bite.

Shaking his head in response, he knew very well how many times in his life he'd wanted revenge; he knew the less than savory places his thoughts could turn, but Bruce simply stated, "You have no guilt." To him, that made all the difference between them. He made no motion to remove the other man from his lap, other than the flat words.

"You have too much," Joker shot back, pulling the cowl back until the other man couldn't hide behind his mask. Eyes narrowing as they swept over Bruce's face, he licked his lips before snatching a handful of dark hair, pulling his head back and viciously devouring his mouth. His free hand snuck down to the utility belt while the man was still distracted, slipping the Batcuffs out of the compartment he'd seen them in before.

Bruce kept asking himself why he let the Joker do this. The very man he had just so ardently attempted to tear down and fit into a box so that it could be shoved out of his mind had his tongue down his throat and he wasn't doing a damn thing about it. He wasn't thinking about Gotham or the people the Joker wasn't terrorizing while he was here with Bruce. He was thinking.....this is what he deserved......

Joker moved his hand blindly, his anger still burning, shifting into something else. Clicking one of the metal circlets around Bat's wrist, he pulled on the hair between his fingers again, ever demanding for more attention.

Feeling the familiar snap, Bruce lifted his cuffed wrist, twisting it quickly to snatch the Joker's in his grasp. He pulled away, hearing snippets from the forgotten television behind the Joker's back. "What are you doing?"

A snakish smile was what he got in response. "Having fun. You got to be on top last time." Joker leaned forward until their foreheads met, two sets of kohled eyes staring into each other. "Trussst me."

Bruce felt sardonic laughter bubble up in his throat. "Trust you?" What a joke. "You'll never have my trust." His body wasn't listening to his mouth though. The cuffed arm held fast to the Joker's, but his free one moved to the Joker's thigh, unsure whether to throw him off or pull him closer.

The madman just ignored him, nipping and licking his way along the jawline before him while he maneuvered Bruce's cuffed hand behind him, threading the joining links between the bars. His free hand covered the hesitant hand on his leg, tugging it up and behind as well.

Everything in Bruce told him that this was not a wise decision; several scenarios of the Joker walking out on him, best case, flashed through his head. Feeling the cuffs click together in place, he tested their hold against the back of the chair, already putting together a method of escape should he need it. Estimating the time it would take him to maneuver his arms into the right position, what kind of force he'd need to break the chair, how far the Joker could get in that amount of time....

As soon as Bruce let his other hand get locked in place, Joker seemed to go wild, feverishly enjoying having even superficial power over the man that fancied himself his captor. His fingers darted to the clasps he'd memorized, pulling back the protective covering until he could see the healing rosettes and teethmarks he'd left in his skin before. Exhaling slowly, watching as his breath washed over the skin and raised goosebumps, he set about renewing the marks, his hands traveling lower to work on the clasps around the Bat's waist.

Breath hitching at the voracity, Bruce's thoughts of escape were derailed. The blood suddenly began pumping through his veins with an intensity to match the Joker's enthusiasm. His hips lifted to meet the maniac's insistent hands. God, what was wrong with him?

Chuckling under his breath, he made quick work of the rest of the fasteners, freeing the way to bare skin that was already waiting for him. Biting his way back up a neck that arched beneath the touches, he captured the lobe of Bruce's ear between his teeth as he wrapped a hand around pleading heat, stroking. Feeling the cuffed man twitch, his chest heaving, it only made him smile all the more. Faking a soft moan into Bats' ear, he broke off into another laugh, licking the man's cheek playfully before sliding down to the floor. Crossing his arms across the man's bared legs, Joker smirked, waiting for Bruce to look at him.

It didn't take long. Breath coming hard, Bruce's head swung down to meet the Joker's waiting gaze, spinning all the while. His mussed hair fell across his forehead, sticking there against tiny beads of sweat that had formed in frustration and the Joker's proximity. "What are you waiting for?"

"You to ask for it," he replied, grinning and enjoying the view. The look Bruce gave him in return was thrilling, making him want to tear into the man with everything he had.

Thinking things over while more than a little hard, it was difficult to not just give Joker what he wanted. But Bruce's ever present stubbornness prevented it from happening. "Give me some incentive," he challenged, leaning as far forward as he could, looking down at the Joker.

Uncrossing his arms, he placed one hand on either side of Bruce's hips, holding them in place. Green eyes fixed on the man's face with a playful, smoldering glint, he lowered his head and used his mouth to ever so slowly tease his way along the inside of Bruce's thigh, stopping just before touching what was becoming more and more the focus of the bound man's attention. Tongue darting out to swipe over his lips again, Joker gave a breathless laugh. "...Beg."

Without thinking about how much it was going to hurt, Bruce threw his legs around the Joker's torso, and swung his weight to the side. The chair toppled forward with his wrists still caught in it's back, but he landed on the floor bestride a startled Joker. "No," he retorted defiantly.

"Why do you always have to put on such a show? Just admit what you want," Joker laughed, shaking his head at the man's stubbornness. Letting his gaze wander with his fingers, he vaguely wondered if he'd always be this hard to persuade. "Or do you need more incentive still?"

The Joker looked unfazed, gazing up at Bruce, and that annoyed him, being spoken to like he didn't know himself, like the other man knew him better. His arms were twisted at a painful angle behind him, the chair having fallen in the opposite direction, but he was reluctant to release his position over the Joker. He may be tied, but he wasn't going to sit down and take it. "You wouldn't simply be trying to distract me, would you?" he queried, glancing up at the television. They were about halfway through the program.

A grin split his face. "Oh, now why would I do that?" he purred, leaning in close again, this time to tease and nip his way across Bruce's stomach, waist and ribcage. He felt a rush of pleasure every time the man beneath him jolted at the touches, inhaled or exhaled sharply. It was like having the most amazing toy, so many ways to manipulate and play with it...

Rolling with the Joker's movements, Bruce was pulled away from the TV. Every wandering of the Joker's fingers pulled at his attention, and when he really stopped to consider it, there wasn't much GCN could say to make a life altering difference for him tonight. Men like the Joker, the one squirming his way over Bruce, were the ones who made a difference. He was the one to be wary of if Bruce wanted to keep their society safe.

His attention was focused entirely on Bruce, one idea pulling at him more than anything else; if he couldn't escape being chained, he wasn't going to be the one ground underfoot by it. He did his best to try to make the other man helpless and writhing, wanting to hear something to prove that he held some degree of power over the man that was determined to hold him prisoner.

The efforts, frantic as they were, were doing the trick. Bruce, caught between the killer in his head and the real one in his lap, was having the experience amplified. Words like danger, terror, and security floated down from the cable program, mingling in his blood with the Joker's touches. His breath came quicker, the heat between his legs became more desperate at being forgotten, and his lips mouthed the word "Joker" against the other man's skin.

"...do I have your attention yet?" he murmured, his eyes flicking mischievously to the Bat's face before catching a nipple in his teeth. It was difficult, so very difficult, not to bite down and see if the other man was as receptive to pain as he; there would be a time to find that out later. "...are you willing to beg now, Bats? I promise, it will be worth it if you do. I'm a man of my word..."

Receiving a deep growl in response, Bruce ground out, "I am not...going....to beg." The words were breathless, but firm. In spite of everything, even admitting that he got pleasure out of their encounters as well, Bruce held a lot of dignity inside himself. If the Joker thought he was beaten enough to beg for it, he had another thing coming.

"Not even just ask for what you want?" Joker chuckled, trailing his tongue in a line down the man's breastbone, stopping just before the quivering tip that had settled on his stomach. Moving to one side, he found the sensitive little hollow just above the hip, pressed his mouth to it and sucked, knowing from experience the sheer electric feeling it would generate. He pushed Bruce back down as he arched up unconsciously, delighting in the little sounds that had escaped from the other man. You're not going to play along?

Bruce's head lolled back and a long, low moan escaped his lips. "Yes," he breathed, "I want this." He twisted his shoulders, trying to gain more leverage to sit up, but the Joker's weight above him, and being tied to the chair beside him at such an angle hindered the attempt.

Crawling off of him for a moment, Joker made use of the time, pulling Bruce back upright and into the chair, then sliding it until it was nearly against the wall. Crouching slightly, bringing himself back to eye level with the hero almost close enough to touch, the lunatic looked breathlessly elated. "...now don't tip over this time. If you can help it," he added lowly, smirking for a split-second before suddenly dropping to his knees, circling one arm around Bruce's hips as he swallowed him entirely in one fluid movement.

His hips jerked forward before Bruce could stop himself. The feeling was as engulfing as those lips were. Something between a moan and a strangled gasp escaped Bruce as the Joker went down. The muscles in his stomach went taut, his arms strained against the chair, and it took him several moments to ground himself as the Joker's tongue moved over his skin ruthlessly.

The sounds coming from the other man were almost enough of a reward in itself. If they were to continue to play this game, he wanted the Bat to know one thing good and clear: he had more control than Bats might have thought, and he wouldn't be easily forced into submission. His free hand circled lower, teasing; he had to stop and clench his hand for a moment, resisting the other impulses that whispered suggestions in his head that were anything but soft.

Blessedly unaware of the way that Joker's thoughts were turning, Bruce was caught fully up in the moment. He had no idea why the Joker suddenly wished to do this for him, and he was forgetting to be wary of alternate motives the other man was probably acting upon. He was here, now, not wondering about where this would lead, what the Joker would want in return, or if he was even going to give Bruce release.

As much as Bruce seemed to be enjoying the attentions, Joker was enjoying the very real rush of power at having the other man cuffed and moaning. Having him completely absorbed in what he was doing, all the focus on him without any of the mental walls the aggravating man always seemed to throw up into place, preventing him from truly seeing. Letting his tongue curl and run over sensitive ridges as he moved, he eventually reached up, his hand half-circling Bruce's neck; keeping that hand where it was, it was too tempting to exert undue pressure and try to hear what Batsy sounded like when he screamed.

At first, Bruce leaned into it, thinking it just another sensual touch. His head lilted to the side with the pull, unthinking, too focused on the exquisite mouth between his legs. As the pressure increased, the grip firm and unyielding, he became aware of it like any hindsight. When he couldn't move his head away, he knew something was wrong. The Joker's fingers began digging into his neck.

He could feel the thrum of blood rushing through veins just below his fingertips, so fragile. He'd never kill the Bat, not on purpose, but he should learn exactly what he'd agreed to if he was going to make Joker wear his collar. Dipping a few more times, adding delicious pressure to the mix, he purposefully let the edge of one eyetooth drag lightly across the sensitive skin.

"Aaaaauughh....," Bruce's voice strained against the vice like grip on his neck mixed with the not wholly displeasurable dig of the Joker's tooth. The combination brought about a feeling of lightheadedness that he had only heard of. Half recognizing the Joker's intent by restricting his air didn't do much to calm him however. If it had been anyone else between his thighs, he might have gone with it. But this man's design's were as elusive to him as they had ever been, and that sent his heart pounding trying to get the blood back into his head.

Another shiver of pleasure running through him at the sound, he redoubled his efforts, moving faster than before; perhaps Bruce wouldn't beg this time, but eventually... Perhaps he can be trained. He could feel the muscles in the man's torso slowly tightening as he drew nearer to climax, one arm still wrapped around the Bat's waist and holding him close.

Heart now beating faster than ever, and trickles of sweat running down his skin, Bruce's entire body was caught up in the extreme pleasure of it. His lungs and throat gagged for air, but he couldn't twist free, not while caught in this chair. It felt like the body had gone on without his head, which was dazed and burning, registering the beginning of his release in the peripheral sense. It shook through him like a ribbon unwinding from groin to stomach, up his chest, underneath the Joker's hand.

Stilling as the the man twitched in the end of the ecstacy, he swallowed the bitter product of his efforts, finally releasing him when Bruce collapsed, spent. Crawling back up to straddle the hero's lap, Joker took a moment to absorb all the little details, recording the look on his lover's face. Leaning in to nuzzle at the stretch of neck that was developing still more bruises, he pulled back to try to catch Bruce's gaze.

When released, a very strange feeling had washed over Bruce. Something about the loss of air combined with climax had thrown him into a truly enraptured state, but it came with such a daze. Now taking deep gulps of air to make up for the loss and pull himself back together, the panic that had settled within him was finally lifting.

Running fingers through Bruce's hair, smoothing it in a soothing gesture like he was a small child, Joker took advantage of his parted lips and met them, painting salt across his lover's tongue. His free hand felt around for the fallen utility belt, trying to figure out where the keys to the cuffs might be. ...MINE. the thought came without warning, and he bit at Bruce's lower lip, growling into his mouth.

In spite of groaning at the sharp pain, Bruce's gasps were evening out. His eyes came back in to focus on the Joker's face who had never wavered from his attentive state the entire time. He stared accusingly at the other man, who didn't even seem to notice that he'd been trying to strangle the object of his affection not a moment ago.

Finally locating the little piece of metal to unlock his lover's hands, he felt about for the keyhole in the cuffs, finally pulling back to grin at the man's odd expression. "...didn't you enjoy yourself? Or do you just not want to admit it?" he asked teasingly. "It's a little late to be thinking about going back on our deal. So don't even think about it..." The last came out as a low, possessive growl; the Bat had agreed, and so had he. Finally the key turned, the cuffs falling off Bruce's hands to clatter to the floor.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bruce untangled his hands from the uncomfortable position behind his back. One of them snapped out to catch the Joker's throat the way he had done to Bruce a moment ago. He squeezed. "Don't. Play. With me." He had been worried for his life, no matter what the Joker said about not wanting to kill him.

Joker's lips parted, but not to speak; the look on his face was a dreamy sort of ecstacy. Gazing back at Bruce without understanding why he'd gotten upset, he caught a newly-freed hand, tugging it towards his own waistband. My turn, my turn...

Not expecting the demand, Bruce felt that now-familiar shiver run down his spine. Recognizing the Joker's intent, he lifted the other man by standing, with the legs formerly astride him now wrapping around his waist to hold on. He laid the Joker down on the floor. Their hips moved together, and the man's insistent hand pressed his into a firmness between them that he shouldn't have enjoyed feeling as much as he did. Finding buttons and zippers was an easy task.

The shift in his mind was sudden, just as violent as any of his mood swings. Where only moments before he was dead-set on putting Bat in his place, forcing him to realize just what his promise actually meant, his resolve slipped away like mist as soon as the man's hand had clamped around his throat. Bruce may have been too prideful to give in completely, but he had no such reservations.

The change in the Joker was mystifying. Suddenly wanton, rubbing up against Bruce when he pressed harder; it was just another thing to surprise him with. Finding his way into the Joker's pants however, took quite a bit of his attention from the man's throat. If he wanted to, he could put the shameless clown in the exact same position he'd been in.

Drawing breath as Bruce's fingers loosened, his green eyes were riveted to the taller man's face, watching the gears turn behind that gaze. It made part of him curious as to what thoughts might be rattling around in Bat's skull, but he was too distracted to really give it serious consideration. Arching up as a warm hand made it past the barriers of fabric, Joker exhaled sharply.

The feel, the Joker's excitement, was enough to bring that spark of arousal back into Bruce's being. He was dimly aware that they were having sex in his family kitchen, remodeled or not. The thought gave him pause, and he pulled back slightly, the movements of his wandering hand not stopping, but slowing.

The shorter man whimpered in response, taking it as a sign of hesitation that might turn into denial. He arched again purposefully, giving Bruce a pleading look. C'mon! Why are you stopping?

Bruce turned away from the thought, and the brief mental vision of ghosts stumbling upon them in their former home. Instead, he gazed down at the Joker, letting ghastly smeared makeup and piercing eyes fill his sight. The pressure of both his hands increased once more. Fascinated again by the Joker's reaction to the hand at his throat, the very opposite of all reason and self preservation, Bruce leaned down to him. "You like this so much....." he began, referring to the pressure put upon the clown's neck, "Why?"

He had no answer to give, panting every time those fingers loosened, then giving a strangled cry of pleasure and tangibly growing more aroused whenever they tightened again. Gazing back as Bruce stared at him intently, he was completely content to be abused; for perhaps the first time, he was completely submissive and trusting in the other man's presence, not needing to struggle and fight or cringe against illusions of old fears.

Watching the Joker beneath him, Bruce's understanding faltered. This man took any kind of anger or display of aggression from him like an aphrodisiac, even if he fought back. This time he wasn't. Bruce could scarcely imagine what that must be like.

When those hands paused and loosened as Bruce's mind furiously tried to comprehend what was unfathomable to him, Joker whimpered again, grinding his teeth in frustration. The man wasn't supposed to stop, dammit. Reaching up to grab onto the arm putting the pressure on his throat, the clown leaned up, his frustration clearly written across his face as he tried to read Bat's expression. "...why are you stopping?" he asked accusingly, his voice raspy as his vocal cords softly bruised.

Bruce was becoming more and more uncertain the more Joker encouraged him. True he had been inspired to enact revenge on him the same way he had done to Bruce, just to prove a point, but....it was disturbing how much he was enjoying it. "Why?," Bruce reiterated, needing to know, needing a reason.

His frustration only increased with that question, visibly upset that Bats even needed to ask. "You didn't feel it? It's always better this way..." Joker seemed to struggle with how to word the inexpressible, his face contorting in thought as his other hand gestured and tried to snatch the right phrase out of thin air. "You just give in. Why don't you understand?" he finally asked, squirming and trying to get those hands to move again. Every second that passed without further attentions was like torture.

Bruce knew the right course of action would be to simply say "no". He would take his hand away from the Joker's neck, he would keep it away from the still healing wounds, instead running it over skin that would only feel pleasure. He would show the Joker what it was like to have sex without pain. It would be glorious.

But he didn't. He knew what he should do, and yet he did not. It wouldn't work. The set of his eyes grew steady, and he proceeded to go down the wrong path, regaining his hold on the white stained neck, just as the Joker asked of him.

A thrill of excitement ran through him as Bruce's eyes took on a hardened edge, the tension only increasing when he actually did what had been asked of him. He had learned to expect constant stubborn resistance from the other man, and he was more than pleasantly surprised. His blissful expression returned, a quiet, strangled moan escaping as a soft stroking joined the hand cutting off his air.

The more the Joker seemed to be enjoying it, the harder Bruce squeezed, the quicker his other hand pumped, his body rocking into the motions to press up against the Joker. His attention never wavered from the other man's expression though. He wanted to see every reaction as if he could translate the moans and harsh breathing into something comprehensible.

There wasn't anything logical to be seen; the madman melted into the touches, both abusive and tender. His lips moved, a silent mantra while Bruce's hand throttled his breath away. His eyes rolled back into his head and closed, and he blindly reached up, weakly tugging Bruce closer.

Deep marks were going to form soon. Bruce jerked the man's head back roughly and squeezed with all his strength, holding tight. He resisted the Joker's pull to keep that vantage point. He could clearly remember the first night he'd had the Joker like this. They'd been up against the wall, in the cell the Joker so hated. Not surprising all things taken into consideration, that that had been the first time they'd gotten physically "close" with both of them feeling it.

That threw him over the edge. Gritting his teeth against a scream that couldn't escape, he literally shook with the violent waves of mixed pain and pleasure that wracked him, spilling over at the intensity until there was nothing left. When the shudders finally died down to a few muscle twitches Joker went eerily still and limp, his eyes still firmly shut.

Bruce eased off on the pressure, finally allowing himself to slump a little after the Joker didn't move. His own breaths had evened out, but he could distinctly hear those coming from the other man. He wondered what he was feeling. After every one of their encounters, he seemed to completely shut down.

Joker didn't have such complications twisting his thoughts at the moment, far too preoccupied with the light-headed bliss he was feeling. Drawing deep breaths now that he was able, he eventually noticed that he didn't hear or feel any movement from the other. Slitting one eye open lazily, taking in Bruce's odd, melancholy expression, an equally odd feeling arose in him. Acting on it without pausing to consider, he pulled the man down on top of him, wrapping arms limply around him and burrowing into the warmth with a sigh.

Falling and lying there for a moment, Bruce attributed later to nothing more than shock. He pulled up and stared down at the Joker as though he were hiding a knife behind his back and if Bruce squinted hard enough, he could see it through the man. Swallowing uncomfortably, he rose from the floor.

The madman just stayed limply on the floor, disoriented but following the Bat's movement with his eyes. The way he'd pulled away had caused another unfamiliar emotion to well to the surface, making a slight frown crease his brow. He had no idea what it was, but it was unpleasant.

Bruce was very unsettled. As much as he hated or was ashamed to admit it, this was.....not the behavior he expected of the other man. The Joker looked simply confused. Maybe a little hurt. Bruce didn't understand what was happening. Was it this place? Being outside, away from people and the city? Had he never actually reverted back from whatever kind of episode he was having back in his cell? Or had he been so very determined to see him as the devil incarnate that he couldn't fathom him showing human affection?

Whatever it was, it hurt to look at the creature he'd become convinced was his twin in so many ways. Hurt, but not in the delicious, nerve-tingling way he so enjoyed; it was another type of burning, one that reminded him of the way the dark and endless silence ate his soul away with a bitter, biting cold. As his mind gradually gained more focus as his oxygen levels returned to normal, he had the most distressing idea. .....it's because I've tied us... His jaw clenching at the thought, he tore his gaze away and closed his eyes in anger.

"It's time to go," Bruce broke the silence. He needed to focus on something else. Grabbing the dark cowl and wiping his hands at the sink, he turned off the TV and gathered the things that had been scattered around the room. He would make a call to Lucius when he returned as he currently had no idea what the outcome of GCN's feature program had been.

"Fine," Joker spat back angrily, putting himself back together in quick, violent movements. That odd feeling was still there, and it infuriated him. Springing to his feet, he shot Bruce a fiery glare before stalking towards the doorway.

A/N: Sorry for the long pause. Loony's been busy moving house, and I've been having a hellish week at work that's left me completely exhausted after each day's rushed schedule finally ends. -.- We're working on the next scene, I promise.

Secondly, though some of you may not know what I'm talking about:
No, imitation and copycatting is not the highest form of flattery. I'm not flattered. I'm actually kind of aggravated.

Thirdly:
Yes, more of the soundtrack is coming. I'm just a bit stuck at the moment, as the maximum speed by crappy internet is getting is maybe 20 kbps on a GOOD day. You can imagine what a pain that is. I'm going to be moving soon, myself, and I will have better internet at the place I'm going.