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Black Diamonds	By : Triyune Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2459 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don’t own Batman nor the Joker and I don't make money from writing this fic. Lyrics by The Beatles/George Harrison; Nine Inch Nails/Trent Reznor; Depeche Mode/Martin Gore; Genesis; Madness; Wolfsheim

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Nine Inch Nails got me through my bedlam, through recovery and is now getting me through my highs. And the few lows. I thought it was worth a fiction.
And since it is NIN we cannot go on with the fluff of the Beatles but need to add violence. You surely will understand.
Lyrics from the song “Kinda I want to” by the band Nine Inch Nails/Trent Reznor.

rating: NC-17, explicit content
pairing: batjokes, Bruce Wayne’s POV
warnings, or what to expect, depending on your mindset: alcohol abuse, questionable...practices, dominance, rimming
Summary: If you can’t kill him fuck him.

The sea of green

Thursday, 1 p.m.
I can't shake this feeling from my head
Two weeks had passed and I had woken up with the same thought, no matter whether I fell asleep at 6 in the morning or at 6 in the evening. I hadn’t changed the sheets yet, I couldn’t. I should have, there was semen and red wine all across the blanket, but I couldn’t.
At daytime during meetings, I caught myself drawing purple eyes with blue pens, or worse, purple lips with black rollerballs. Maybe I was just longing for someone who’d spend the Saturday evenings with me; someone with my sense of humour, although this was a grotesque thing when we were talking about humour and him. That hadn’t been my first one-man-home-party but it had been my best, turning into a two-men-show.
Why wouldn’t I simply change the sheets then?
There's a devil sleeping in my bed
“What do you think about that option, Mister Wayne?”
I looked up from my world. 15 heads were turned my way, eyes expectantly looking at me.
“No, I don’t think we should make use of that yet. It is still too early.”
Some pleased faces, some disappointed. The daily routine. I was so sick of it. At 4 p.m., I would leave the show and head home for a glass of wine, trying to get that shit out of my head. What would father think of me? His boy, his rich kid, fooling around with the worst clown in town. What an honour, dear Mr. T. Wayne. Alfred should never get to know about any of that. Last time, I had been sure to add some sleeping agent to his tea, not much, but enough to have him safely sleeping in his gooey looey bed.
4 p.m.
I left the building, got me a taxi and got me driven to the worst, dirtiest and most undesirable district of Gotham.
Field studies.
“Jacky Dacky!”
Jacky Dacky turned around. He frowned. A man dressed in a business suit was standing in front of him, hands stashed in his pockets, not showing any sign of fear at all. He wasn’t used to this. Usually, any sane man was fearing Jacky Dacky. He lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Say, where’s the Joker?”
“Who wantsa know dat?” he smirked at me, baring his gold tooth.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Boy, it matters to me!” he said, taking a step closer. I could smell the alcohol in his brain.
“Donken Didders, dude. Wants to sign up for the next quest with the Joker.”
“You must be batshit. The last guys who signed up for the next quest got taken to Arkham by the Bat. And anyway,” his eyes darkened, “you don’t look like Donken Didders.”
“I am undercover. Or uppercover. They were idiots; dressing like criminals just draws the Bat’s attention to them. If he sees me he’ll think me a stockbroker and not a burglar.”
I could see the logic seeping through his drunken brain. Sounds good?
“Yes. Well, I have no clue where the Joker is but Johnny Onny mostly does.”
“Where can I find Johnny Onny?”
“Over there, in the cafe. Hangs out there all day, doing shit. Blond hair, down to his shoulder, a scar on his left cheek, always smoking like a chimney.”
“Fine, thanks.”
Without any further look at him I passed him and entered the cafe.
Johnny Onny was hanging out there, doing shit. With his blond hair, down to his shoulder and that scar on his left cheek, he was smoking like a chimney, talking to a lady. Or a guy. I couldn’t quite tell.
I’d easily remember that face. Without ordering coffee or water I left the cafe. Tomorrow, I’d return. At night.

Tomorrow. At night.
„Johnny Onny!“
Johnny turned around and almost suffered a heart attack. The Batman was standing in front of him, reaching out for his jacket. There was no one else on the streets, just him and me.
“No, please, I, it hasn’t been me, I, please-“
“Shut up and give that to the Joker. I know you’re near and dear to him. And if I get to know that you haven’t done as I told you I will come and take you to Arkham this time.”
“No, please, not Arkham...”

4 hours later
Watching you from across the way
“Joker...”
Joker turned around and frowned. Johnny Onny was standing in front of him, looking like shit. He reached into his pockets for a small piece of paper.
“He...I gotta give that to you, boss...”
“From whom.”
“From...the Batman.”
The Joker’s forehead bore even more wrinkles.
“From the Batman, you say. Why hasn’t he given it to me himself?”
Johnny Onny was sweating heavily.
“Cuz...”
He looked at the black framed eyes helplessly, begging to be helped. But Joker wasn’t in the mood for favours.
“Yes?”
A single tear ran down Johnny’s face. He would die of a heart attack once. He thought about giving that half-assed kingdom of his up and leaving Gotham, going far, far away, to some deserted-
“Why hasn’t he given it to me himself?
“Boss...please, I dunno...”
The Joker licked his lips. None of that red colour faded and stuck to his tongue.
“Yes, why hasn’t he given it to me himself...” Joker repeated, lost in thoughts, turning around to take the cup of coffee.
Johnny Onny had molten into a puddle of goo next to him. Slowly, he took some steps backwards to sit down by the table and sip his fourth Tequila, glad that he still felt his heart beating. Yes, he would leave all that shit and go to the 66, a small Diner’s in the heart of the desert Noona to ask all the other guests whether they would like another cup of coffee. The next second, he decided to stay in Gotham.
Joker unfolded the piece and read the few words in silence.
He moved his tongue over his teeth to get rid of those nasty nut bits sticking to his molars. He looked to the left, he looked to the right. No bat.
“JOHNNY!” he yelled to the right and the man to the right almost fell from the chair, getting a j, an o, two ns and a y right into his auditory canal where the letters mixed and mingled, leaving him dazed.
Johnny jerked.
The Joker turned around on the bar chair, hitting the right man’s shin with his heel. He stifled a groan.
“Who gave that to you?”
“The bat, boss!”
“And why didn’t he give it to me himself?”
Johnny Onny’s face dropped. Johnny started questioning his sanity, rather than the Joker’s. Had he drunk too much? Done a line too many? Or had he misexperienced the last ten minutes? A mental blackout filled with hallucinatory elements?
“Ey, Johnny, answer!”
“Boss, I think I gotta go to sleep. Excuse me.”
Johnny Onny left the cafe. He would go to bed now. Before that, he would take off his clothes, fold them neatly and put them on the chair. And then he would go to bed.
Joker turned around on his chair again and hit the man’s shin a second time. This time, he groaned with pain.
“Idiots...everywhere. I’m surrounded by idiots,” the Joker muttered into his coffee.
He took the piece of paper and read the words again.
He looked to the left. He couldn’t be serious.
He looked down. And what if he was?
He looked at the ugly barman in front of him. He needed to find out.
He closed his eyes. Every night he woke up with the same thought.
What if.
I cannot make this feeling go away

3 a.m.
I turned away from the cafe and left him behind. I had been watching him for three hours now and still couldn’t believe it. I could have hunted the worst criminals of Gotham down, but no, I stood in a dark alley and watched the Joker drinking his coffee in maniac silence. Sighing, I finally turned around to leave.
Soon.
I know it's not the right thing
And I know it's not the good thing
But kinda I want to

Saturday, 8:45 p.m., Wayne Manor
I'm not sure of what I should do
I hid behind the wall. He’d enter any moment. At least, I hoped that he’d enter any moment. Of course, there was the chance that he’d not come at all, but I was pretty sure that he would come. Except if he was too proud for this shit. But I was sure he wasn’t.
When every thought I'm thinking of is you
The door was opened and I heard him entering.
I took a step forward and rammed the needle into his neck. I had never really caught him by surprise, never enough to let his facade slip, but this time, I caught him completely off-guard. Before he could clutch at my hand the stuff had already entered his blood system.
“What...”
I took the syringe and threw it into the living room. I’d get it later since I thought him capable of hurting me with it in that state. Absent-mindedly, he felt for the injection site, then he turned to look at me.
“What the fuck?”
I tilted my head and slowly, without him noticing, lifted my arm behind his back.
“I trusted you when you came to me that Saturday. You could’ve killed me. I want you to trust me now.”
He snorted.
“You are kidding me...”
He was about to turn around when his knees gave way and I took him by his jacket to keep him from falling.
“You...”
I dragged him down the aisle to the bathroom. Part of my plan.
No one would ever have thought that I would be able to do such things but they didn’t know me. When I was Bruce Wayne I took care of meetings, business and men in suits; when I was Batman I did the shiny good starry-eyed idealist show.
When I was alone, I was someone else.
I heard him gasping.
Tachycardia.
I was pleased. I had not forgiven him yet. He had entered my house and found me in a state of utter dopiness and he had mocked me. Terribly. I wanted to shock him a little. Give him a hint of a heart attack the way he had done it with the Joke-in-the-box. No more, no less.
All of my excuses turn to lies
When we arrived at the bathroom I dropped him and drew a bath.
He must have tried to move, but he wasn’t able to do much more than blink. I undressed him. Nothing I had not seen yet. I left him on the cold tiles, waiting for the water to fill the tub.
Looking at him, desperately trying to move and so dishonourably failing, gave me a pang in my guts. I didn’t care whether he was noticing me getting aroused or not. It didn’t matter at all. I wanted to tease him, just a bit. Letting him know that he couldn’t mock me like that, that I was always in control of the situation.
He gave a sound of discomfort.
I got up from the edge of the tub and knelt down, looking at his face.
Why hadn’t I given him the piece of paper myself?
Eyes with big, black pupils stared at me. I moved a strand of green hair out of his face.
As a bat, I had dreamed of the moment I would have him lying there, helplessly, ready to be locked away forever since he had always managed to escape me, one way or another. He had been eluding me, like a thought I couldn’t get a hold of.
I pressed my fingers against his carotid artery. His heart was racing.
“What did you think when you saw me on the sofa?” I asked gleefully, “Did you think about a way to kill me?”
His eyes moved. Thinking back to our encounters, I never had managed to make him feel afraid. There was always a smirk in his face and a joke up his sleeve.
A heap of slack muscles and the brain of a natural catastrophe. Fine, thin limbs, seemingly strengthless, yet he could move like a snake. Lean white.
I turned away, hiding my face. It was awful. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve that.
Maybe god will cover up his eyes
Annoyed at myself, I violently dragged him to the tub where I dropped him in the hot water. A smirk spread on my lips. I really wasn’t myself tonight.
I leaned over the edge and pushed his head down. No complaints, no attempt at defence, no sound. Just bubbles surfacing.
I held my breath as well. I didn’t want to kill him.
It was silent. Nothing would have revealed his presence; the surface of the water was calm, as smooth as a mirror. Peaceful. Mirroring the options. A different world, free of that plague. I would have liked to get used to that thought.
Then again, what would keep me from continuing?
The people he had killed, the families he had destroyed, the earth he had soiled, everything screamed for a sacrifice. His white silhouette shone through the water, blurred and distorted.
I never wanted to see him again.
More bubbles.
I was getting short of breath.
No one would ever know.
I exhaled and sucked in the air.
No one would miss him.
And I know it's not the right thing
And I know it's not the good thing
A bulk of bubbles destroyed the smoothness of the surface.
I bit down on my lip.
That wasn’t true.
But kinda I want to
I gripped some strands and pulled his head up.
Coughing, wheezing and gagging, he showed up, water streaming down his face. Muscles contracted from the lack of oxygen; the toxin was wearing off. There was panic in his eyes.
My heart was racing and I felt a pain in my chest. This wasn’t right.
I clumsily got up and pulled him out of the water, right into my lap. Together with him, I leaned back against the tub and held him, feeling him shaking in my arms. Life slowly returned to his body and he flexed his fingers, but he was still unable to move.
Green strands stuck to his face, covering his eyes. His lips were glowing in a cold bluish tint. Still, he was frantically trying to get oxygen into his lungs.
I hugged him more tightly, trying to give him some warmth since his body was feeling unnaturally cold despite the hot water.
He didn’t want to die. Always, it had seemed to me like he didn’t care whether he was alive or not; when bombs exploded right next to him I watched him whirling across the room with a grin and if he got shot he still cracked a joke. When he jumped from the building when we met the first time I was about to let him fall.
He did those things because he knew that he could rely on me. We were like trapezists, in fact, knowing when to jump, where to be and when to catch the other.
That demanded quite some routine. Routine and knowledge of human nature.
No, he didn’t want to die. He wanted to be saved.
Those thoughts stirred a kind of sadness in me. Like me, he was the victim of a shattered past, assuming unhealthy roles and perpetuating the circle. I needed to save and he needed to be saved. We had been dancing all that time in perfect harmony, complementing each other. A perfect couple, batshit together.
As much as I had tried to get away from trying to save people as terribly had I failed. I still felt responsible for every child starving in the streets of Gotham and I still felt pity for every widow in Gotham; I couldn’t distance myself from it. Their pain was my pain because I knew what it felt like. Seeing things from that objective perspective now helped me understand him. A failed comedian, catcalled, stabbed right in his heart, apparently having lost everyone dear and loved, if there ever had been someone. He had accepted it and he had raised his hand to beg for help but no one had ever taken it to pull him out of the bog.
I hadn’t been any better. He had reached out for me when he had fallen but I was too late and fate had come hurtling down on him that night, turning him into a joke.
My fault. Every time we met I still wanted to save him, desperately.
Feeling his lifeless, heavy body weighing down on my chest drove me out of my mind. How could I ever make up for it?
We spent an eternity sitting there in silence and with every minute passing, my mind became more and more fragmented. Also when I was sure that he could move again he didn’t. If I hadn’t felt his ribcage moving I would have thought him dead. His hair was drying and the warmth returning to his body, slowly. The air was damp and I was sweating by now and though, I felt cold. So cold.
“Sorry,” I said into the silence. My voice sounded hoarse, coming from the globus in my throat which I just couldn’t swallow away.
At the slightest sign of him wanting to leave I would have loosened my grip and let him move...but he just wouldn’t. Not a finger, not a toe, not one single muscle moving. I feared I had permanently damaged his system with the toxin. Knowing that he was resistant to many toxins and chemical substances, I had been searching quite for some time to find something he couldn’t just cough away. Maybe it had been the wrong one.
“The worst party...I’ve ever been to,” he finally said in a husky voice.
His words were my salvation. He didn’t hold it against me.
On the other hand, it was just proof of his utter desperation if he didn’t take offence at me trying to drown him. He would take any hand if it just saved him.
He moved, finally.
Then, I wished he hadn’t.
The green parted and purple eyes appeared, scrutinizing me.
I couldn’t stand his look. He was much too close for lies. Only one time I had felt so uncomfortable and vulnerable in my life and I was still trying to forget it.
But kinda I want to
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
Words spilling from his mouth, an open accusation. I was trying to figure out whether it meant ‘Why haven’t you finally freed me and done the world a favour?’ or whether it rather was about something like ‘Oh really? Now why did you save me? Tell me, lie down on the sofa, make yourself comfortable and associate freely...’
He watched for any sign of emotion or change in my eyes but I managed to deal him a poker face.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” I returned.
His answer came without hesitation: “I was up for some fun.”
“So was I.”
“Liar.”
But kinda I want to
He made me behave like a schoolboy. Yes, that was a lie.
I had sworn to myself to wait until he’d get up but I couldn’t bear it anymore. Gently, I pushed him to the side and headed for the exit of this situation when his voice filled my ears again.
“Finish what you started, you asshole!”
I stopped, realizing that I couldn’t escape. Not if I left this room, not if I left Gotham. I couldn’t shake this feeling from my head. There was a devil lying in my bathroom, watching me from across the way. I just couldn’t make that feeling go away by turning and leaving.
I turned and looked at him.
Anger was in his eyes. He lay on the floor like a snake, limbs spread, yet muscles tensed, ready for action. Why was he so white. My eyes slid across his body, from his arms to his back, ass cheeks and legs.
“Like what you see?”
Malicious glee in his voice. Such a lame joke, but with me, it worked every time.
‘No.’
Liar.
But kinda I want to
He was just doing it again.
And I fell for it.
While I was searching for something clever to answer I looked him straight in the eye, trying to make him look away.
But he was the Joker. He didn’t look away. He took it like a man. When I realized that I would never win that battle I did the only thing which would leave my honour intact.
“I’m done with the games,” I said dryly, turned around and left.
I got me a bottle of wine from the fridge and then went to the living room, just a few steps away. My plan hadn’t worked out and now I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t realize that all the time, it had been the wrong plan I had been pursuing.
Thus, now, I regretted having invited him. How could things have gotten so out of control? Oh, that question sounded familiar. It rang in my ears. After having woken up the next day with a hell of a headache and a green sock in my hand I had asked myself three words.
First, what. Second, the. And third, hell.
And I hadn’t learned anything from that. Stupidly, I had repeated that mistake of trusting him, no, I had even invited him! By now, I should have understood that whenever he was involved it meant chaos. Noisy chaos like buildings exploding, people screaming and burning to death, or painful chaos like knives meeting my kidneys and blood gushing out of my body.
Or emotional chaos, like these two times. He was talented. Probably, he didn’t even know about that at all.
“Wayne! I’m getting cold ere!”
He did. I ignored him and poured myself a glass of wine.
And back we were, gentlemen, beginning at the beginning again. Only that we weren’t stoned this time. However, I didn’t know what was worse; having a stoned clown in my house, feeling a stoned me up or both of us being sober and probably ending the same way.
I didn’t want that.
But kinda I want to
“And I gotta pee!”
“Gods, shut up, you retard!” I screamed towards the bathroom.
I closed my eyes and pinched the brick of my nose. Just why. I emptied the glass and filled it up again. At that moment, I was glad that I had sent Alfred off to his aunt. He hadn’t seen her for a long time and he always was very thankful when I made him visit her. He didn’t dare to ask for a day off himself. If he had been there as well the evening would have turned into a catastrophe. I was sure about that.
The glass was empty again and a third one followed.
“Boozing all alone there, you egoistic fuck?”
I jerked. Sharp words softly whispered into my left ear. I should have just killed him.
“You’ve done a line too much, eh, becoming relentless, batshit”
I wanted him to say more. Whatever it was, I enjoyed listening to his voice. For the record, after two glasses of wine. In this state, I was sure it was unique in this world; well, just like any other voice but there was more in it. I sighed. Assuming that he wasn’t wearing anything at all since I just knew that he had not taken a bath towel and wrapped it around his hips I tried to focus on the fire in front of me.
Was he hard yet?
Why should he be.
“So silent...”
Joker was playing around with his dick beside me. I couldn’t see it but I just knew it. The sky was blue, the night was black and Joker, well. He was the Joker.
I decided to play hard to get. It was futile, pretending that he didn’t matter to me. His reactions had told me that he was aware of his lasting impression on me so I didn’t have a choice if I didn’t want to have an egg on my face. If there was anything which I hated more than having wet dreams about the Joker it was being exposed as a liar. The entire topic was giving me a headache, but I had to deal with it now. In the end, I had been the one who had invited him.
He left his place and sat down on the table in front of me. His naked ass on the wood, his semi-hard dick resting between his thighs. Why was he so darn white.
Every inch of his body told me that he was aware of how terribly arousing this sight was for me. There was no smirk in his face and though, I felt like he was laughing out loudly. In order to free myself of this magic deadlock I wanted to take another glass of wine.
It was standing right next to his naked ass. I feared that he would take my hand or do something else which would just send me back into that hell.
I jumped from my chair as gracefully as I could and pushed him down on the table. His head hit the wood with a loud noise. With a hand closed around his throat, my other hand resting on his chest and my knee pressed against his balls I pinned him down.
A wide grin mocked me the way it always did when we were fighting. I needed to clarify that subject of alpha and omega, once and for all.
“What are you trying to do?” I snarled at him.
He didn’t move and he even seemed to mock me with that. No defence, no objections. He drove me wild.
“Just sittn here,” he grated, fixing my eyes.
My fingers tightened around his throat and he tried to bring up a hand now but I took his wrist and slammed it against the table.
“Don’t you think I’m not seeing what you are up to,” I whispered into his ear, breaking the spell of his gaze. Then I loosened my grip a little, following the unwritten script of decent communication and social behaviour when talking to someone.
“What am I up to?”
He gasped for breath when I pressed down on his balls.
“Nothing good,” I commented.
His smirk returned despite me grinding his crotch.
“Have I ever been up to anything good, Wayne?”
“That’s the problem.”
“Why did you ask me out then, knowing that?”
Lost.
Darn it, that thing about clarifying the roles had backfired painfully. Being at a loss for words, I pushed myself away from his body and sat down again. A few moments later, when he had caught his breath, he sat up as well. As much as I resisted the urge, I couldn’t help glancing at his dick.
It was hard now.
Just how could he.
But kinda I want to
“What are you thinking of?” I demanded to know. I wanted to force him into the awkward position finally because I was sick of it and, despite my first failed attempt, still eager to defeat him.
He lifted a hand and stuck his forefinger into his mouth, then slowly let it slide from it again. His tongue darted out to lightly touch the tip of it and then he closed his eyes and opened his mouth in a silent moan of pleasure, loudly sucking in the air.
I moved heaven and hell just to keep that pissed expression up and to not move at all. I would not let him win. However, I had no idea how I could chase him out of the house either. He clearly was in power tonight.
Maybe just for tonight
“Give in, you fool”
That which I hated most had happened. He knew exactly what was going on inside me, especially down there; his little show hadn’t left me untouched. I felt warm. Probably because of the wine.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall. Images of him moaning with pleasure, rolling his eyes in bliss and that white, that darned white, melting under my touch...
We can pretend it's alright
When I opened my eyes again he sat there still, not batting an eye. That bastard. I was at his mercy. His erection was just blooming but he sat there in silence, patiently, teasingly. Soon, I would have wasted my mental resources and I feared what would happen then. I tried to resist. I tried hard.
He looked down and touched the tip of his hard-on, making his dick twitch. What kind of self-confidence that man was displaying...it was a miracle how he could feel so self-assured when his skin was as white as marble, his hair as green as grass and his lips so red. He smothered me with his bluntness.
I didn’t feel so drawn to him because he was the first man I was seeing naked, no. I had seen many men naked, but I had to admit that it was the sheer fact that I was seeing a man naked who was my enemy; who was supposed to show up dressed in a purple suit and green shirt, feet dressed in expensive, taunting Oxfords and spats, hands gloved, never touching this world.
And now he was sitting there, naked, in front of me. Someone who should have been dressed, someone who wasn’t supposed to be naked.
Worlds revealed themselves to me. That which had always been there, under the cotton, the leather, the silk, suddenly exposed to me. That white ocean, bounded by a sea of green, disrupted by a sinful red pool suddenly belonged to a different man. Eyes framed by black, like black diamonds, glistening white dots, framed by blackness again were perving on me. It was spilling from them, liberation, wantonness, lechery. He was free, not bound to anything, he had the licence to fuck whom he just wanted to fuck.
What's the price I pay
His erection was touching his navel. An hour ago, he had been lying on the bathroom tiles, somewhat dying.
My neck muscles jerked and I turned my head to hide the involuntary movement. That happened when I was nervous and tried to forget that all eyes were resting on me. Usually during meetings.
I closed my eyes. I had the right to fuck whom I wanted to fuck as well. Who would deny me that?
Even if it was the Joker.
I don't care what they say
I opened my eyes again and glimpsed at his dick. Just now I got aware of the absence of what should have been there. The bastard had shaved his pubes. I closed my eyes again, getting aware of his intentions of coming again. Well, it was obvious, I had invited him but realizing that he had shaved his pubes because he was out for sex made me feel more confident, finally. There was something he wanted from me.
Of course, I forgot that he also had something I wanted from him.
I want to
“Nothing of this...“ I started, but hesitated. Pronouncing that would have made me lose a third time.
Yet, a broad, humiliating smirk told me that he got it anyway so I just said it.
“...leaves this house.”
He knew that he had to consent to that secrecy, otherwise it would have ruined the magic. I had one or two tricks up my sleeve as well.
I opened my eyes and bent forward, enough to make my breath hit his tip, reaching for the bottle to pour me the last glass of wine before it was empty. I knew the rules of that game and I could play it just as well.
Trying to make the wine flow into the glass I had to move even closer and my lips almost touched the glans. I snorted with laughter, thinking of the bath and how convenient it had been to bathe him before fucking him. You never know.
His dick twitched, involuntarily, this time. Yes, I knew how to play the game.
The glass was full and I leaned back again, leaving his dick waiting in the cold air.
I knew that I had to empty another bottle at least to fuck us into oblivion because doubts, especially self-doubts were still singing in my head.
So I got up.
Or I tried to.
I had underestimated the effects of a litre of wine and had to support myself on the leather chair. If he had laughed at that I would have gone to the kitchen and never come back again but he just watched me, unimpressed. Yet, I did go to the kitchen, got another two bottles from the fridge and another glass. It was embarrassing but I always made sure there were at least five bottles properly chilled.
I left the tobacco pouch where it was because I knew that if we had a smoke now I would just collapse, having had a bottle of wine all by myself. I would have wished to use it as well because it had facilitated things last time so nicely but it just wouldn’t make sense right now.
When I came back to the living room I almost dropped the bottles.
He was lying on the table, fingering himself with one hand and with the other spreading the last drops of wine on his dick. My glass lay broken on the table; blood seeping from his fingers, mingling with the wine.
Apparently, I had kept him waiting for too long.
I'll take my chance tonight
I put the bottles and the glass down on the floor and sat down again, watching him. His insanity turned me on.
He got up on his knees and stuck his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean from the wine and blood. A third finger joined the other two in his ass.
I filled up the second glass and placed it on the table. With his fingers still in his mouth he smirked at me, bent backwards and got himself the bottle. I wasn’t aware of him being so flexible.
“I can never catch up with you that way,” he slurred and with his fingers in his ass bent forward so that his head and chest were resting on the table, his bottom up in the air.
He spread the ring of muscles and skilfully placed the bottle just above it. Additionally, he stuck his little finger into the opening of the bottle and pushed it past the sphincter.
I clenched my teeth. Unsure for a moment whether I should find that disgusting or enjoy it as the most wicked thing I had ever witnessed I held my breath. He didn’t spill much of the wine and that which he spilled trickled down his white thighs.
If sin had a name it started with J.
Before I had decided whether it turned me on or off my dick responded instead of my brain. I gulped down my glass of wine, got up and joined him on the table, licking the wine from his thigh. He was panting heavily and his hand was shaking but I didn’t dare to take the bottle. I knew that if he took the finger out of the opening we’d never get it out of his ass again.
A moan of pain drew my attention to his face which was pressed against the table. He was still smirking but his forehead was in wrinkles. His shoulders moved and a strange sound came from his stomach. The wine was too cold. Struck by a kind of fascination I couldn’t quite explain I sank back into my chair again to watch him. Yes, I wanted that. I wanted to see him suffering.
When he noticed my pleasure he gave a short laugh and shifted.
“I knew it...” he whispered against the table, his smirk growing.
The bottle was empty by now and he took it out of his ass, together with his fingers. When he licked them clean I closed my eyes, feeling my dick twitching.
Enough.
I unbuttoned my pants and wriggled out of them, not daring to get up again because I was sure I’d land on the floor in a very painful manner otherwise. To assure myself of my splendour though, I ran my fingers through my hair. It was wet from sweat.
He was kneeling on the table still, breathing laboriously, working against the cramps, his hair sticking to his face, wet as well.
Beauty.
Shamelessly, I needed to admit that. Long, lean arms, well-defined calves and thighs, his stomach...well, now bulging but I still could see the beauty of that as well, his chest giving a hint of the ribs, the collar bone...I didn’t dare to explore his eyes right now at all so I stopped at red. His lips were slightly parted. Full and tasty.
For about half a minute, I explored his lips, fascinated by that odd shade.
He shifted again. Surely, it was very uncomfortable for him to have half a litre of cold liquid in a place where it didn’t belong, but it was my pleasure. I had hired him for stuff like that.
He bent his head and his hair fell over his eyes. Then he placed his forearm on his thighs and propped himself up on his other arm. For a few moments, he remained in that pose till he straightened his back and pushed the hair out of his face. His eyes looked lost and his look was unfocused and vacant. He blinked, then turned his head to look at me. I couldn’t tell what he saw there. A smirk spread on his lips again and I was somewhat glad.
He looked befuddled but happy. His arm gave way and he almost fell down on the table. That awkwardness was a sight for the gods. I had never seen him act like this.
Finally, I hit upon the idea to take advantage of that situation, the way I were supposed to, and I took off my shirt and knelt down behind him, not without, I need to remark, serious difficulties cause I was just about to fall from the table, had I not clung to him. I heard him chuckling. As intoxicated as he was, I granted him that laugh.
Grinning, I shoved a finger up his ass and squeezed his belly at the same time which made him double over. The urge of letting go must have been unbearable but he kept it to himself.
When I drew back some wine seeped from his anus. A quick glance at his head told me that he had not noticed. I’d be in control of things within a second again. Forcefully, I pressed against his stomach and he complied by arching up. Meanwhile, I bent down and did something I usually would categorize as a gross nightmare from which I’d wake up, bathed in sweat.
A gasp escaped him and he tried to turn around, but I kept him in place. It was about time to teach him the ins and outs, literally. Undeterred by his reactions, I kept rimming him and with growing pleasure listened to his sounds of discomfort. He must have felt deeply embarrassed, considering the nature of his sounds, although it had been him starting the whole thing. In order to assure him of my good will I gripped his erection and gave it a few strokes. The blood and wine had dried on the glans which caused some unpleasant friction but it couldn’t have been worse than the thing going on behind him.
He started another wretched attempt to change his pose but I didn’t let go. He was strong, but I had got the drop on him, only being drunk while he was completely sloshed and troubled by the content of his bowels. His choice. He’d have to pull it through.
Another desperate groan made me stop though. I enjoyed his distress but I didn’t want to drive him over the edge.
Not yet.
Just when I straightened myself he reached for my arm and jostled me away so that I finally fell from the table. While I was trying to assess the new situation and perspective I heard a squelch.
Before I could think about it twice my curiosity won and I sat up to watch the spectacle.
A dark red fountain welled from his ass. Suddenly getting aware of how close I was I got up and took a few steps back. Whiteness convulsing in pain and relief.
It didn’t take long and the wine had come to light again. Exhausted, he let himself fall down on the table, panting hard.
Following a sudden notion, I took him on my arms and dumped him on the rug in front of the fireplace. He was heavy but I had already carried heavier goods.
For a few moments, he remained silent and didn’t move; I could see him trying to figure out how he had come to lie on the floor all of a sudden within a second. It made me chuckle. When I had calmed down again I, almost as drunk as him, knelt down between his legs to seize the moment and take another proper look at him.
Even the skin of his balls was so white that the veins seemed to be black. Well, after that kind of extensive foreplay they were rather of a blue colour. Grinning, I gave them a squeeze which drew a moan from him. He bucked and took my hand, but I broke free, took both his hands and pinned them down above his head.
“Blue balls? You were the one who started that show. If you touch me once more you will find yourself on the doormat and you yourself can wank the shit out of you,” I snapped at him.
He didn’t react to my words at all but just stared at me with pupils as big as his eyes. Then, slowly, a smirk spread on his lips.
I let go of his hands, spread his legs and knelt down. Yes, I would tease the hell out of that man. It was liberating, somehow, not needing to save anyone but to bring hell upon him. It was just the opposite of the role I clung to so desperately every day, every night, every moment of my life. Yet, with him, I could step out of it and assume a different one.
Lightly, I touched his inner thigh and watched him throwing back his head. His testicles must have hurt terribly by now and still, he seemed to enjoy it. Sneering, I grabbed his balls again and squeezed. He commented that with a desperate moan.
“Please...”
I looked up. Seriously, had he just begged me to stop?
“What?” I asked and bent down to take them into my mouth.
Hard, full and so tasty.
“Aah...please...”
I let go of his jewels only to tease him some more.
“Can’t hear you,” I breathed against them.
“Please!” he yelled, a jolt going through his body when my lips touched his dick.
“Please what?” I replied and with blatant glee bit into the pie.
I loved it when he writhed with pain. Admitted.
That reminded me of my own situation when my dick piped up as well. My testicles surely would hurt when we’d be through but it didn’t matter right now. I was well-trained when it came to holding back because I sought to give every woman her ultimate pleasure, gentleman that I was. I’d easily bear it for another half an hour but he was at his limits. And under my control.
I got up and disappeared in the kitchen, leaving him alone.
When I came back he hadn’t changed his pose at all. His eyes were resting on me, following me. They were glistening with lust.
I put the bowl of water down beside him and closed my fingers around his dick, bending it.
“I surely won’t suck that filthy dick,” I explained matter-of-factly, hoping that the sheer words would make his imagination run amok.
And it did. He turned his head to the side and clenched a fist.
I wetted the cloth and started rubbing the blood and wine off his dick. He didn’t say much during the first five seconds, then he couldn’t hold back anymore.
He sat up and gripped my wrists, breathing harshly, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. In return, I glared at him.
“I said you can leave if you touch me again,” I hissed, finally having found my role and having made myself comfortable within that.
He didn’t say anything but just looked at me with greedy eyes for a moment, then his grip loosened and overwhelmed by the situation I forgot to follow the rules and took his chin, pulled him closer and kissed him. Our tongues met and fought for dominance in his mouth until I moved closer and ended the fight by biting his upper lip.
Our dicks had met again in their old fashion and were pressed against each other. It was about time. I let go.
“What do you want me to do,” I whispered against his lips.
In order to make it easier for him to voice his wishes I lowered my head, hiding my eyes from him. I could feel his breath on my forehead.
“Fuck me hard, fuck me till I bleed”
“Then turn around”
“But I want to see you”
“Fine then”
Without any further words, I shoved two fingers up his ass. It was still wide enough for instant sex, no further stretching needed.
I positioned myself on top of him and took his legs to get them over my shoulders. If he wanted it that way he’d get it that way. I took my erection and placed it just in front of his anus. Then I licked my lips and waited, savouring that image. I knew that he was impatient for the collision.
He didn’t let me down. Desperate anger, need.
“Goddamn it, Wayne, just-“
I shoved my dick in as forcefully as I could, balls deep, making him gasp and arch up. As stretched as his ass had been, he surely hadn’t been prepared for that. That was what I considered a Hard Fuck.
Huffing and puffing, he slowly sank down again and my dick slid in further. I closed my eyes, trying not to come at the very sensation of being inside him. He seemed like doing his best to not sink into total chaos either. I had never taken anyone’s virginity more violently in my whole life. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure whether he still was an ass virgin.
I shifted a little and made myself comfortable in his ass, then I leaned forward, bending his legs as much as he permitted it.
“You still a virgin?” I smirked into his face. I was drunk enough to ask him that and I would regret it tomorrow. If I remembered at all.
He, busy with sorting out the different sensations and putting them all together, needed a moment to process that. He took a handful of hair and pulled me closer till our lips almost met.
“I guess you’re not the only boy for me”
The malice in his voice materialized and formed a big black clot. The derisive smirk accompanying these words didn’t make it any better either.
I couldn’t help the feelings breaking loose inside at hearing that. As needy as I had been, it all vanished within a second. Empty.
My face must have changed because his smirk faded as well. He let go of my hair.
“Kidding” he added; insecurity showing in his eyes.
We had gone too far than to deny anything. He was a liar, a pretender as much as I was one and both of us knew. I wished I had never asked him or he had never answered since jealousy was even worse than getting turned on by him. I felt so troubled all of a sudden that I was about to draw back when he took my arm. I looked him in the eyes. What I saw shocked me.
There he was; he, beneath the white and green, beneath the suit, beneath the contrived insanity and evilness; raw, honest and original.
No joke, no embarrassment, no insecurity, no doubt. He, with his many ideas, creativity, experiences and a touch so gentle that it almost had made me cry the first time, was opening up right in front of me.
And that all just because I had shown him that he mattered to me. I had often tried to save him, I had reached out for him, in the pouring rain, but he had never taken my hand. Wrong time, wrong place. Now, with nothing around us but ourselves in our most primitive, original states, he allowed me to look at the core of his soul.
I didn’t know what he was seeing or thinking during these moments but he held still, his expression not changing at all. He was fully aware of his exposure and he even guided me through the labyrinth of his mind, calmly holding still and allowing me to dive deeper.
And suddenly, the self-confidence, the strong-mindedness and the grandness of his real self hit me full-on.
What had the world done to him that he hid it.
I got lost in his world. Whenever I turned around, wherever I turned around, I found him looking at me with a will that had no equal. Layer by layer flaked off and he invited me to take a glimpse of his self. Hypnotized by those vibes he was oozing, luring me out of myself and pushing me into the darkest and most secret corners of himself, I forgot that we were still connected in a physical way as well. Only when he contracted his sphincter, accompanied by a half-a-second-smile I got aware of me still being stuck in him.
I loudly sucked in the air and travelled backwards at high-speed, leaving his soul space as pristine as it had been before I had entered. I had made sure to doff my boots before entering. He waited until I had somewhat regained my composure, then he propped himself up on his elbows.
“Like what you see?”
No joke, no embarrassment, no insecurity, no doubt.
I couldn’t say anything; I felt like a fool. Compared to him, I still had to learn so much.
I even started to see the logic behind his chaos.
He refrained from saying anything else because he must have noticed my crestfallen expression. He was way ahead of me and my intellectual development. Yet, this was not the right time for self-doubts. The fact that he had come a second time and still was here told me that he didn’t care who of us was doing intellectual flights or rather going in circles.
I freed myself from his all-devouring embrace and bent forward to kiss him. It was different. Keeping those newly acquired insights in mind, I kissed him like never before. He responded tenderly, cupping my cheek with his hand, touching me gently.
And then, he did it again. My dick twitched at the sensation and my kiss turned rough. Back to business.
While kissing him I moved my pelvis and drew a long moan from him, right into my mouth. I dug my nails into his flank and he jerked, contracting his muscle again. I was still drunk enough to think sideways and I tore his skin, making him cringe and embrace my dick again. Pursing my lips, I pinched his nipple and just waited for the next contraction, enjoying the ass job. It was difficult for me to hold back but a quick glance at his face told me that he wasn’t doing any better either.
His cheeks were flushed and he just needed a love tap to let go so I reached for the wet cloth with which I had cleaned his dick and wound it round his neck. He opened his eyes and looked at me, confused, but I knew what I wanted. Some more dominance.
I pulled at the ends and he gasped for air, bringing his hands to his throat and trying to loosen it. Within a second, his attempts turned more frantic and I let go, a little, to keep him from a heart attack. His eyes were fixed on mine and if it had been possible at all his pupils had even grown. We were communicating by glances, no need to destroy everything with words.
I rode him hard and when he had recovered from the first shock and his dick leaked precum I tightened the noose again and with a desperate cry he came. Muscles tightened, fingers dug into my thighs and his mouth spilled sounds I never could have thought of. What a sight. His ass tightened and I finally gave in as well and a gush of semen hit his chest.
One moment of synchrony, unison, heavenly oneness.
A wheezing sound reminded me of letting go. Coughing, he turned to the side without dropping my dick. I was breathing hard, lingering over that moment, still. He was perfect. Whatever it was, he was in for it. And to top that he wasn’t ashamed of it at all; he did it with such confidence that it seemed natural to him, stealing everyone’s thunder.
I looked down at him. A heap of trembling, tortured flesh. It was unbelievable that I had fallen for the Joker’s charm.
“Now...” he panted, barely able to talk “that we sweated out the alc...”
He laboriously turned around to face me again, my dick sliding from his ass finally. He was lying on his back now like a helpless turtle. I felt drained myself and my balls hurt, as predicted.
“I think we need more...or something else.”
What a dope whore. Had I turned him into that?
“You wanna shove that up your ass as well?”
I pursed my lips to keep myself from laughing.
He looked at me for a moment, befuddled, then a grin flashed over his face.
“Could be worth a try.”

It was these moments when I doubted what I had glimpsed.
The grandness, for example.
In the end, he still was the Joker.

_______________
Lyrics source: Lyrics from "Kinda I want to" by Nine Inch Nails
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Black Diamonds