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The Cake Games	By : kokoronoitami Category: DC Verse Movies > The Dark Knight Views: 6411 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Warning: Mature content ^_^
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The old man was all but distraught as he looked down at the message on his phone. He hated to think that his young master would be out later than planned. He sighed as he took a seat out on the back patio and looked up at the moon high above the trees, glowing behind a thin veil of clouds. Regardless of the business man’s assurances, he didn’t want Master Wayne out with that jail bird any longer than absolutely necessary. Not after what had happened the previous night. The old man found himself trying to get the sound of his master whimpering in his sleep out of his mind. He’d concluded that The Joker’s mind games were obviously beginning to have a subconscious effect on the young businessman, but not in the way he’d suspected.

He recalled the event that took place early into the morning his master had decided he would take The Joker out for the first time. Late into the night, just moments before the sun was set to rise, Alfred had gone to use the restroom and took it upon himself to check on the young man. It was a habit he’d acquired ever since the man had fallen into that hole on the property when he was a boy and had started having those awful nightmares. Only this time, he hadn’t been flailing and crying, upset about the bats that had frightened him so long ago. This time, he’d been lying on his back, face turned away from him, moaning The Joker’s name in his sleep.

Like a good manservant, he’d assumed the man was having a nightmare about battling the sly criminal, perhaps chasing him in his dreams. All the man seemed to do was battle at night, even in his sleep. He didn’t realize how wrong he was until he’d cracked the door and crept in to check on him. He was only a few yards from him when he’d noticed the unmistakable erection tugging at the fabric draped over him. His eyes had widened as he simply did an about face and marched out of there as quickly as possible. He’d never known what to make of such situations, leaving it to the schools to educate him about sexual matters. Hours later, he’d returned and dutifully reminded Master Wayne of giving The Joker his meds that morning, unable to confront him on the latter disturbing matter that had occurred.

Alfred shook his head as he looked down at his phone. Master Wayne had alerted him that he would be back later than anticipated on account of some unexpected events retrieving the last piece for the night. He sighed, praying the pasty-faced criminal wasn’t to blame…

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The Joker had been absorbed completely in his game for nearly half an hour, Bruce maintaining his patience. The stern man shook his head from behind the door. The Joker had been so good up till now. He’d been passive, more cooperative and less violent. The business man sighed mentally. So, why did the man turn into a monster once he got hold of a weapon and threatened violence? There would be consequences for spilled blood, no doubt. He didn’t want to let the first one go, but what choice had he? There was no reviving a man who’d had a bullet go through his heart. He only hoped that that was the extent of the paler man’s violence.

His thoughts were interrupted by two more shots, followed by the heavy thud-like sound of two large bodies hitting the floor. He grunted as he looked up, his temporary partner grumbling at the fallen men, waving his gun casually.

“Do you wanna try to peek at my cards, too?” The Joker asked, right hand holding his cards down on his lap, left pointing the gun at the man to the left of his fallen buddies. The man pushed back from the table and stood, anger clouding common sense.

“You wanna shoot me? Then shoot me!” the shorter man shouted.

Bruce grit his teeth. He couldn’t just stand by and watch this man take lives so casually… It didn’t matter if these men were thieves, junkies, rapists or convicts. As much as it pained him to acknowledge it, they too were human beings capable of erring and it wasn’t up to The Joker to decide their fate.

The dark-eyed man had just pressed the end of the barrel of his gun to the angry player’s forehead when Bruce stood. He could no longer ignore the psychopath’s actions... Not when he was capable of doing something about it. The Joker may have instructed him to fall back, but he was in no way obligated to obey him. Besides, he was calling the shots here, not him. Without further hesitation, he burst forth from his hiding spot.

One swift kick and the man’s gun was sent skidding across the cement floor before cracking against the wall, the pale man grabbing his arm in pain.

“Why you-” The Joker fumed before noticing the more pertinent problem of avoiding the angry fist coming at him. He fell back and rolled off of the table, grabbing the nearest chair. Before he could attempt to defend himself, the dark figure swept through the room in a flurry of flying cards and cash, taking down all who stood in his way. His movements were so fluid and precise The Joker found himself lowering the chair simply to watch. The darkly clad man leapt past him, his fist landing straight between one man’s eyes and sending his body sprawled and limp on the floor. A quick kick to another put him out of commission as well. The wonder was short-lived as only moments later, the last three players were down, only one half-conscious. The Joker stepped up beside his enemy, both of them looking down at the heavy-set ring leader lying on his back amongst the mess. He made a move toward him, when a dark-gloved hand shot out to block him, nudging against his stomach. Batman turned to the wild man.

“You’ve done enough. Stay here,” he ordered.
The lithe man raised a brow, crossing his arms defensively.

“Hmph…”

Batman immediately began searching the man, seconds later producing a small silver key from one of the pockets. His foe’s dark eyes lit up, Batman noticing his excitement as he held it in the light.

“Where does this go…” he dead-panned.

The intrigued man reached for it before plucking it from his grasp and turning with a smile.

“The pleasure chest…” he smirked, cocking his head toward a door beyond the table. Batman watched him with a look of doubt.

“The what…”

The Joker chuckled.

“Where these gentlemen keep their drugs…” his gaze shot toward a narrow door in the back before he approached it. He looked back at his enemy once, before proceeding ahead, his voice muffled in the long walk-in closet. “Literally…” he managed as he found a familiar chest nestled against the brick wall in the back. “I know this ring… They deal in pleasure-enhancing drugs…” Carefully, he inserted the key and opened the box.

The lid jolted with a pop, a slight white dust filtering out of the sides and settling. A light flickered on overhead as he lifted the lid. In the center of hundreds of small dime-sized bags of white powder, the device was tied in a small zip lock bag. It was no bigger than a golf ball. It had a rounded end, the opposite flat with a single yellow wire protruding from it. He lifted the bag curiously, pinching it between his index and thumb. Without warning, he tossed it back at the figure standing in the doorway, taking the minute opportunity of his distraction to slip a tiny bag of the powder into his jacket pocket.

Without missing a beat, he stood and headed for the exit. Everything seemed to be going well until he suddenly found himself flat on his back, dazed from an angry blow to the head. Batman quietly apologized to the commissioner for breaking his promise as The Joker lay eagle spread on his back. It took the man a good moment to gather his senses as he sloppily picked himself up off of the floor, brushing off his suit. His look demanded an answer that his foe was only all-too anxious to supply.

“Don’t you ever pull a gun on unarmed men and kill them in my presence…” he warned. “Do you understand?”

The Joker rolled his eyes. This man just had too many rules…He frowned. A hand grabbed him by the collar, pushing him against the wall.
“Do you understand!” he half-growled.

“Hmph… You’re too soft..” he cocked his head.

Batman sneered as he released him and stood back.
“Now get over here,” the angry crime-fighter demanded. The Joker chuckled before walking up to the man and turning his back to him. Batman quickly blind-folded the crazy man with a long black cloth, using the excess to bind his hands behind his back before escorting him back to his vehicle and his waiting cell back home.

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Bruce had been angry with him ever since that night, refusing to take him back out in search for the last few pieces. There was no cake for two days but it was no matter, The Joker concluded. Batman was not only going to like him soon enough…Oh no…when he was done, the stern man wouldn’t be able to resist him…

On the third night following a successful deal, Batman returned home after having delivered the 4th piece to the commissioner. Only three more to go…All that was left was for him to keep his end of the short deal he’d made with his enemy to acquire it and share a slice of cake with him.

More anxious to deliver a few punches instead of dessert, he had to force himself to keep his cool. At around 1am he entered the cell sporting a crisp white dress shirt, dark slacks, polished shoes and mask. As usual, The Joker was waiting placidly on the couch in his grey-blue dress shirt, green vest buttoned and dark purple slacks. His right leg was crossed casually over his left, arms stretched out over the back of the couch in the picture of comfort.

“And how are you…” he smiled, mouth watering at the neat layered cake centered on the plate. He could smell it from where he sat. Bruce walked up to him and then extended the treat toward him. The vigilante suddenly noticed the faint smudge of something dark on his right hand. It was probably a mark of dirt he’d gotten leaning against the old cage-like elevator. He’d have Alfred wipe it down again soon…

Annoyed that he’d have to waste several more seconds enduring the man’s presence, he simply walked to the restroom, squirted some soap gel on it and proceeded to wash it off.

The Joker bit his bottom lip to suppress his excitement. He’d been waiting for just the right moment to take advantage of his dear opponent. As soon as his foe had slipped into the restroom, he withdrew the small white packet he’d stolen a few nights ago, ripping a tiny hole in it and sprinkling a little to blend with the powdered sugar that clung to the cake’s surface, placing it in calculated areas. Smiling, he sat back, stuffing the tiny item back into his pocket just as the other man emerged to join him.

Bruce sat down beside the man, refusing to look at him for a few seconds. His voice directed his attention.

“I held up my end of the deal…” he reminded him as he lifted the silver spoon and pressed it into the cake, sectioning off a specific slice.

“I know…” Bruce admit.

“So, its time you and I had some cake,” he declared as he lifted the spoon and brought it to the other man’s mouth. Bruce made a quiet noise of agitation as he reluctantly opened his mouth to receive it. The cool sweet texture against his tongue relaxed him immediately as the coffee layer danced around his tongue. It was undeniably well-made and he mentally thanked his butler. Good old Alfred had ordered some damn good tiramisu this time.

As he swallowed it, The Joker was busy savoring his own bite, eyes rolling back for a second as the cool cream melted in his mouth and softened the cake-like layers against his palette. He took a bigger slice from the more-tainted center of the dessert and offered it to the unsuspecting receiver.

“You have GOT to tell me where you get this cake…” the pale man smiled, slipping it into his mouth. Bruce swallowed the expensive cake with little trouble, trying to pinpoint the faint aftertaste. Within moments, they were down to the last slice, The Joker surprising the other man by handing him the spoon.

“I want you to give it to me,” he explained.

Bruce nodded, unwilling to argue. If feeding the man cake kept his violent tendencies down, then why the hell not. He grabbed the plate noting how warm it was from the pale man’s grasp as he scooped up the last bite and brought the spoon to his lips. The dark-eyed man opened his mouth slowly, letting his captor push it past the scarred lips. His eyes fluttered as he drew back to swallow it, keeping his gaze locked on the masked figure’s.

Bruce was about to draw back when his captive quickly but gently held his arm up as he proceeded to lick the excess from the spoon. Bruce unexpectedly lost the gaze, his eyes falling to the man’s mouth as a sudden tension washed over him. There was something extremely interesting in the way the man moved. How almost every move he made managed to be casually suggestive was puzzling. He’d been trying his best to disregard the thoughts lingering in the back of his mind for the past few days, but every time the man looked at him like that, it tugged on something inside of him.

It wasn’t right. Here he was forced to deal with the man for the past three weeks and already he was having inappropriate thoughts about him.

If this is what the doctors at Arkham dealt with on a daily basis, he couldn’t even begin to fathom how they managed to cope.

The Joker’s mouth left the spoon, sliding along the handle before pressing tenderly against the side of the other man’s hand. Bruce’s eyes widened as he froze at the sensation it evoked.

The pale man uncrossed his leg and turned toward him fully, both knees on the couch as he crawled toward him, mouth trailing little kisses up his arm.

Bruce wanted to recoil, but every place the man’s lips touched sent a pleasant sensation through him that he didn’t expect. He was about to recoil, eyes wide in semblance of a deer caught in headlights when The Joker’s voice brought him back from his inner turmoil.

“Do you like that…” the other man’s voice was quiet as he paused. Bruce swallowed. Taking his silence as encouragement, The Joker’s mouth travelled up to his shoulder and neck and he turned his face away, wondering why he hadn’t punched the man yet. A warm hand cupped the side of his flushed face, turning his gaze back.

“No no no no… C’mon. Stop running…” The Joker’s voice was surprisingly soft.

Bruce shook his head, at a loss for words. Ignoring his confusion, the paler man closed in, mouth finally landing on his lips.

The spoon that Bruce had all but forgotten he’d been holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, the expensive metal landing with a quiet thud upon the carpet. The Joker pushed the plate out of the man’s left hand to rest on the small ledge on the back of the couch, fingers slipping between his as he gently pushed him down until his back hit the couch seat, leaning over him and caressing the semi hard flesh between his legs. As predicted, the drugs were working just fine.

Bruce trembled beneath him, his body refusing to obey him. His eyes widened at the seriousness of his situation.

“Don’t question it, Bats… Just enjoy….” The Joker encouraged, spreading his legs above him and rubbing his groin against his as he pressed his mouth to his enemy’s. For the first time, the masked man moaned softly in response, the pale man pulling his mouth away. The Joker’s hands unbuttoned his white dress shirt, trailing soft kisses down the squirming man’s torso as he undid each button. He ran his hands up and down the toned figure before leaning in for another disarming kiss.

As soon as the scarred mouth touched his lips it was like an explosion of pleasure hit his senses and he tilted his chin up toward him, moaning into his mouth.

Bruce’s gaze was lost to the strong sensations welling up inside of him, hands untangling themselves from his grasp to hold his waist. He needed only to push the man off of him. He could end this right now. Only, his arms shook as he tried to fight his desire, unable to make sense of the suddenness of it all. The Joker sighed, his hands undoing the other man’s pants. This time he managed to tug the dark slacks the vigilante wore down to his upper thighs, allowing his erection to spring free.

Before Bruce could tug his pants back, The Joker’s right hand made a motion over the ledge of the couch before returning and grasping the man’s member. The business man felt his breath catch as the Joker smoothed the excess cake cream along the shaft in a loose fist.
It was intriguing, it was strange, it was disgusting but it felt kind of good.

Once the criminal was satisfied, he sat back between his legs, holding him by the hips as he nipped at the strong inner thighs.
The masked vigilante was moaning pitifully as his hands came up to tangle themselves in the other man’s wavy locks unable to avoid the onslaught of unnatural desire. He tensed, grip in the pale man’s hair tightening as his mouth paused just above his member.
The dark-eyed man pursed his lips, blowing warm air teasingly against the stiff flesh just to watch him squirm.

Bruce bit his bottom lip as he stared at him, breaths heavy.

Was the other man really going to… Was he really crazy enough to let him…

“Joker…” he breathed, shaking his head, eyes heavily lidded in his passionate fever.

“No,” The Joker smirked. “Call me Jack…”

Without warning, his moist lips closed over the icing glazed sensitive flesh, the other man shuddered, arching his back with a pained whimper.
“Ah….”

The Joker’s mouth was so sweet against his member that he could do little more than savor the wet heat surrounding it. He never imagined the man could make him feel this good.
His head was spinning, thoughts caught up in a whirlwind of conflict. This was immoral. It was stupid and it was risky. An action like this could cost him the entire mission…
The grip he had in the other man’s hair tightened, but he couldn’t bring himself to push him away. He needed to speak, to tell him to stop, but every word translated into a meaningless soft grunt or moan.

The pressure began to build to a torturous height when the other man pulled back for a minute.

“Now, Bats…” he licked the icing from his lips. “Tell me to stop and I will…” He watched the man with a sly smirk as he merely tried to catch his breath, opening his mouth, unable to find his words. Pleased, the dark-eyed man took him into his mouth once again, savoring the experience.
He reached down, undoing his own slacks to work his own hard member in his excitement. All but too soon, the movements his mouth made over his enemy’s organ quickened, Bruce’s body tensing as the most exquisite release he’d ever experienced washed over him, The Joker sucking him to a height of pleasure he didn’t even know existed, tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft.

Bruce pressed his face into the couch as he came, the man’s name slipping from his tongue.

“Jack…”

The Joker smiled as he swallowed down his release, working him a few moments longer before lifting his mouth from the spent organ.

“Say that again…” he breathed as he found himself on the verge of his own climax.
Bruce closed his eyes, making a face that if words accompanied it, he would be cursing himself.
Through clenched teeth, he spoke the man’s name, unable to hide the waver in his voice.

“Jack…”

The Joker half-growled as he leaned over the man, left hand bracing himself against the couch, right pumping his erection above him as he kissed him deeply, coming as soon as their mouths touched. The last kiss was almost desperate and feverish as he moaned loud and long, the raw emotion in his voice so sincere that Bruce found himself taken aback.

After several moments, the lithe man collapsed against him with a sigh, breathing deep as he adjusted his clothes.

Nearly half an hour after the pleasurable high had faded, he found himself feeling awkward as the man refused to budge. He swallowed, looking around the room nervously for a moment. He took a deep breath before dragging himself out from under the sleeping criminal limb by limb, wondering if the events from what seemed like just a moment ago had indeed really happened.

In no time he was standing and staring at the man who had fallen sound asleep on his side. He buttoned his pants and his shirt as he looked down at the man, feeling nervous. He looked back at the exit. He couldn’t let Alfred suspect that he’d done something like this. He lifted the unbuttoned fabric of the right side of his shirt, sniffing it. He frowned. His clothing smelled like The Joker. His brows drew down angrily. The idiot had come all over his shirt. He shook his head. That disgusting son of a-

A look of worry crossed his features at the thought of Alfred finding out. Why was he even worried? It’s not like Alfred would discipline him…Those days had long since past ever since he became a man. He wasn’t a child anymore. He could deal with his own mistakes…and he would.

In spite of that conclusion, he still made it a point to avoid the butler after finally making his way to his room. He found himself looking over his shoulder just to make sure the old man hadn’t spotted him. After locking the door to his room, he refused to touch anything until after he’d showered. He’d stripped himself bare before secluding himself behind the frosted glass shower door for a good fifteen minutes. From there, it was straight to bed, his body anxious to rest as he thought about his mission. There were only three pieces of that weapon left to find and only a few days left to recover them. He sighed mentally. How could he have been so stupid. He was supposed to be keeping his distance from the man. His body still tingled when he thought about what the criminal had done to him. The next few days were going to be fairly difficult now that he knew what The Joker’s touch could do to him. He turned onto his side, closing his eyes as his body relaxed completely. He wanted to believe that it had all been a bad dream, but he knew better than that. What in God's name had come over him. Still, the one question continued to echo in the back of his mind as he gradually fell unconscious.

How would he be able to survive the next few days…
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The Cake Games