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The Joker felt his arms pulled painfully behind him, secured to the chair he had been forced into- a rather plush thing on wheels, in the back office of a jewelry store. Blood was trickling from his lips down his chin, his hair disheveled as he glared up grinning at the shadow of the Bat securing him.
“A bit, ah, tighter Bats darling, I can still feel my hands.” His grin broadened before he felt that gauntletted fist connecting with the side of his head. He was jerked to the side, the blood trickling down his neck now. He laughed, spraying some onto his shirt. “Ah Bats, you know I like it rough.”
He grinned, all bloody teeth and swelling lips, and Bruce had to restrain pummeling his fist into that face on more time.
“I’ll be sure to let the police know to be extra rough with you, then.”
That grin turned into a pout. “Oh Bats, don’t tell me you’re leaving already! Our fun hasn’t even begun, cupcake.” He pulled against the restraints, leaning closer. “Have a little fun before you go, baby.”
Bruce felt hot under his suit, like he was on fire. He wanted to pummel his fist into the Joker so many times that his knuckles split open- wanted to feel flesh and bone give- he wanted to hurt. Wanted to hurt something that would enjoy it.
“C’monc’monc’mon,” the Joker urged, seeing something in those dark eyes. “Gimma a little Bat lovin’, it’ll feel good.”
Bruce’s fist tightened and pummeled into the Joker’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and moving the chair back a few inches. He gasped, choked on his laugh, and Bruce hit him again, then punched his jaw. His head was knocked him, and Bruce watched as more blood dribbled down his chin, along the long curves of his throat, and onto his shirt.
“That’sss it, baby,” he said, the movement causing fire in his jaw as he lowered his head and stared at Bruce. “Seal the deal, c’mon- you know you wanna.”
Bruce grabbed the chair’s arms, pulling it closer and leaning in. The Joker’s teeth were stained red and he was grinning wildly, pupils tiny and frantic against his irises, and Bruce did the only thing he could think to do.
He kissed him. He crashed their lips together violently and tasted blood and paint and salt and desire. His body hummed with it, and the Joker was pressing against him almost angrily, trying to take the control from him. Bruce released the chair with one hand, drove out for the Joker’s throat and grasped it, squeezing and cutting off his air. If the man noticed in the first few seconds, he didn’t show- he kissed and kissed until he began to choke and wheeze, and Bruce took his last breath before he eased back, took a long look at those eyes as the pupils nearly disappeared.
Then he released him and turned away, walking to the other end of the room. The Joker gasped for breath, gulped it down and choked on it and coughed, but beneath it all Bruce heard the laughter bubbling.
“I knew you had it in ya, Batsss,” he said, his voice rough and strained, “Don’t stop now. Come back and split me open.”
Bruce’s body went rigid, and he imagined that bruised and bloody body yielding to him- the Joker pressed onto his stomach so Bruce didn’t have to see him as he took and took and took and gave him nothing. So he had control- for once.
Bruce turned, stared at him for a moment, and then stalked back, sinking his hand into the Joker’s curls and jerking his head up. He kissed him again, delved deep into his mouth and tasted thickening blood and let his other hand press between his legs- rubbing him through the fabric of his pants and making him squirm. He couldn’t move much, and that seemed to frustrate him as he tried to gyrate his hips, to press closer to that palm. His frustration made Bruce hard- that and maybe a hint of general desire.
Bruce broke the kiss and pulled a batarang from his belt, cutting one of the ties that kept the Joker to the chair. Another few slashes, and the man was bound but free of the chair. He grabbed him by his hair and jerked him down to his knees, watching the impact shake through him.
“Convince me,” Bruce said, his voice deep and gruff, “that I want you.”
There was a smirk on his lips, and the Joker loved it. He ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned, bright and white now against the red of his lips. His arms were still bound behind him, but he didn’t mind- wouldn’t need them right away if his Bat played along right.
He leaned up, nuzzled Bruce’s thigh, placed a messy kiss to the Kevlar and left a red smudge. He trailed up- knowing Batman couldn’t feel him, but seeing and not feeling created a new sense of desire he wanted to stroke, and when he reached the plate over Bruce’s groin, he placed his lips to that, let his tongue flick against Kevlar and taste that awful chemical flavor.
He heard Bruce groan, felt it in his bones, and looked up with that look in his green eyes- lust and need and the desire to fill himself with his Bat and make the world shake.
Bruce reached down, hating his suit for a moment as he fumbled with the locks on the plates, before he was shoving it aside and reaching into the fabric. His gauntlet was cold and sharp against him, reminded him that this was just wrong but in the moment he didn’t care, felt like he had lived his entire life for this moment.
The Joker waited on bated breath- painfully hard himself and oh-so aware of it, but trying to focus on the greater tasks at hand. When Bruce finally pulled himself free of the suit, hard and thick and throbbing, the Joker was quick to take over- missing the use of his hands for the moment, but knowing it’d be so much hotter without them.
The tip of his nose bumped the underside of Bruce’s cock before his lips kissed the sensitive ball of nerves nestled beneath the head, his tongue darting out to trace down along the underside and back up again. Bruce shivered, and the Joker straightened up more, opening his mouth and sucking on the head gently, tongue teasing and making Bruce impatient already. Bruce gritted his teeth, and the Joker could see his hips twitch, needing to buck, to bury down into his throat.
A quick breath, and the Joker gave him exactly what he wanted. He swallowed him whole, letting Bruce press into his throat until his nose brushed the fabric of his underwear beneath the suit. Bruce let out a shakey breath, groaned when the Joker moved back and took him in again. He stared down, watched that green haired head bob deliciously, saw his hands still trapped behind his back, hands clenching and unclenching- wanting to touch and grab and tease.
Bruce reached down, buried his fist in the Joker’s hair, and guided his movements, let his hips buck as he pleased. To his credit, the Joker took it with a distorted grin, moaning and giggling around Bruce’s cock, making everything vibrate in the most exquisite way. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, buried his other hand in those curls, and pushed deep into the man’s mouth, holding him steady as he came, his orgasm ripping from his core with a guttural growl, pulsing out in white hot waves from his body into the Joker.
When he released the Joker, the man fell backwards onto the floor, coughing, gasping for air. His lips were swollen from the beating, the kissing, the abuse, glistening. Once he’d found his breath he grinned, looked up at Bruce through thick blonde eyelashes. He licked his lips slowly, but stayed sprawled on the ground.
Bruce stared, felt his heart pounding in his chest, and before he knew what he was doing he was dropping to the ground, ripping his gauntlets off and tossing them aside, crawling over the man. He kissed him, pressed with bruising force into that bitter tasting mouth as his hand palmed the Joker’s erection- so hard Bruce wasn’t sure how he hadn’t burst. The man moaned into his mouth, whimpered and pushed up, and Bruce was fighting with his pants, opening them, forcing the clothing down his thighs so his sex could spring free, press up against his shirt and leave a wet smear of excitement.
“Fu-ck, Batsss,” he hissed, pushing up, and Bruce grasped his cock with one hand, stroking. The man’s head fell back, smacked against the floor and must have hurt, but if it did the Joker liked it. He groaned and thrust up towards Bruce’s hand, babbled something incoherent, and Bruce grinned.
He was coming back to life himself- faster than he would have thought. No one had ever looked so deliciously fucked out as the Joker, so wanton and vile, and Bruce wanted him. He pulled his hand away, much to the Joker’s dismay, and leaned back, grabbing his hips and guiding his body over onto his stomach. The Joker took the hint and followed the motion, lifting his ass up as Bruce pulled his pants all the way to his knees.
Bruce sucked on two of his fingers- knew it wouldn’t quite be enough, but it was his only option- and pressed them between his flesh, slipping one inside his body. The Joker mewled, giggled, gasped “Another!” and Bruce obeyed, pressing the second in. The body around him was trembling slightly, and the Joker was moving his body before Bruce could move his fingers, expertly fucking himself along Bruce’s digits, making Bruce lose his breath.
He grasped his ass with his free hand, held it with bruising force to keep him still, and took over, pumping into him with the two digits, curling them until he was hitting a spot inside the Joker that had him seeing stars.
“Fuck-AH!” The Joker cried out as Bruce stroked his fingers against his prostate, “Ba-Batsss, do it aah-again!”
Bruce smirked and listened, part of him screaming that he hadn’t intended for the Joker to enjoy any of this. But something about how the man was utterly needy and nearly broken made him want to give him everything. He stroked that spot until the Joker was panting, begging for him to just touch him so he could cum.
Bruce reached around him, grasped his cock and stroked, and the Joker shoved himself back against his fingers, crying out after two strokes as his body shook with release. Bruce stared for a moment, unbelieving- not sure he’d ever gotten anyone off so easily in his life.
The Joker slumped forward, his hips still angled up, his chest pressed into the floor, body shaking as he panted. Bruce pulled out from that body, his one hand returning to his ass, as he stroked the skin gently, making the man mewl softly, nearly purr.
Idly, Bruce reached down and ran his hand over himself, the fingers that had just been inside the Joker now teasing his rapidly hardening cock. The Joker was wriggling about as Bruce did so, looking over one pale, scared shoulder at him with a set of dangerous green eyes.
“Don’t tell me we’re, ah, done yet, cupcake,” he said, licking his lips. Bruce shivered, watched as the Joker angled his hips up higher, his arms, still bound behind him, twitching and straining. Bruce held himself steady- fully hard now at the realization that this man was still bound for him- and reached for his hips, guiding him back. When the head of his cock pressed to the Joker’s entrance the man gasped, looked back again and stared with those bright eyes as he pushed back, taking Bruce inside him inch by inch, until he had nothing left to give the clown.
Bruce’s breath escaped him in a broken gasp as the Joker gave a happy moan, eyes rolling back a bit, the mix of ache and burn and pleasure the knowledge that His Bat could split him open enough to make his cock jerk despite his recent orgasm. Bruce was grasping his hips, but letting the Joker do the moving, hypnotized by the way he would write and buck back against him so perfectly.
“C’mon Batsss,” he hissed, “where’s your fight?” He pressed back, held himself still as Bruce gave a whimper, making him laugh. “C’monc’monc’mon Batsy baby, show me what you’re made of!”
Bruce gritted his teeth, shoved the Joker so his chest dug into the floor, and snapped his hips back before driving into him violently, groaning as that body held him tight and the Joker cried out. Bruce did it again, and again, and again and again and again, felt delirious with the ecstasy coursing through his veins. The Joker was babbling, encouraging him, cursing at him to man up and hurt him.
Bruce grinned and snapped his hips back, driving his fist down into the man’s lower back, making him spasm and fall to the floor. Bruce reached down, grabbed him by the bindings on his arms, and pulled him back up, hearing the man hiss as his arms were tugged and his shoulders began to burn. He spun him around, held him by his shoulder, and drove a punch into his jaw. The Joker’s head jerked, his lip reopening and spilling blood down onto his shirt. He laughed, grinned, stared at Bruce dangerously.
“Now that’s more like it, sugar,” he said, letting Bruce turn him around again roughly and slam him into the floor, driving back into his ass with bruising force. He cried out, the cry ending in a strain of strangled giggles as Bruce leaned over him, pressed him into the floor. He reached around the man, wrapped his hand around the Joker’s throat and squeezed, cut off his air as he drove in harder, faster, until the man was writhing in that gray area of desire and what would be fear in most- for him, it was sheer excitement.
Bruce released his throat and let him gulp down air, whimpering as Bruce angled his thrusts properly and rubbed all the right nerves inside him. He was hard, his cock pressed between his abdomen and the floor, throbbing with the need to have his Bat’s fist around it again. The sharp edges of Bruce’s suit were cutting into him, biting at pale flesh, and he pressed up against him, broke skin and hissed.
“Fuck Bats, touch me,” he hissed, and Bruce eased back, pulled the Joker’s hips up and reached around him, pumping him in time with his thrusts. He was rewarded with a buck of the man’s hips and a musically laughable cry of joy, the kind that threatened to throw Bruce over the end before the Joker was ready.
Bruce reached forward with his free hand, grabbed his bindings again and yanked him up, pressed the man’s bleeding back and arms to his chest and splayed his hand on his chest, holding him still as they rocked together, as he peered over his bruised shoulder and saw his hand working his sex, saw the way his stomach muscles contracted with desire, the rise and fall of his chest.
The hand on his chest traveled up, traced the pulse in his neck, the skin that would bruise, traced his jawline, his swollen lips. When he traced back down his throat, he leaned forward, huffed in the Joker’s ear, “Cum for me,” and pushed so deep into his body he was sure for a second the clown would get his wish of being split open. The Joker nearly screamed, body convulsing almost violently around Bruce, his semen splashing against his stomach, running along Bruce’s knuckles. Bruce watched it all over his shoulder, let the pressure at the base of his spine take over, and came inside the man, groaning into his neck, dropping his head and biting sensitive flesh as he was milked dry.
Both panting, Bruce released the Joker, reached his hand up, and the Joker traced his tongue along his fingers, making Bruce shutter. He pulled out, turned him violently, kissed that mouth with a possessive force that made the Joker’s head spin, flip upside down. When he was released he was pushed to the floor, and Bruce stood up, fixing his suit and tucking himself away.
The Joker didn’t spring up, just lay there, a mess of blood and bruises and cum, hair disheveled, clothes torn, but otherwise mostly dressed, his pants never having gotten further than his knees. Bruce knew he should have been revolted by all of it, but he was getting hot all over again staring at him like that. A little voice was screaming inside him that he hadn’t meant to give the Joker any pleasure, but he ignored it- knowing that seeing the Joker finally cum had been one of the hottest things of his life.
The Joker was laughing, and Bruce crouched down, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him up. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, just ah, you, darling,” he said between giggles. He calmed down, narrowed his green eyes, and said in a dangerously low voice, “you’re just a freak like me.”
Bruce smirked, stood up and dragged the clown to his feet, his other hand reaching down and pulling his pants up. He lifted him easily, threw him over his shoulder, and made his way for the exit of the building. The Joker thrashed, glared, snarled, “What are you doing?!”
“I’m going to show you,” Bruce said, voice guttural, low and violent, “just what a freak I can be.”
The Joker shivered then, pushed down against his Bat and began cackling. He cackled and cackled until Bruce found something better to fill his mouth than laughter.