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Even Bats Fall	By : BlueBastard Category: DC Verse Movies > The Dark Knight Views: 6329 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight or Batman Begins and I do not make a profit from writing this piece of fiction

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
"Alfred I-"
"-*COMPLETELY* inexcusable Master Wayne-"
"But I-"
"-I honestly thought you could be DEAD-"
"Alfr-"
"-don't you know what that could have done to my poor heart? I was ready to book a flight back and make funeral arrangements. FUNERAL arrangements, Master Wayne. And you know how much I dread those."
Bruce grimaced. Waiting for the Brit to be finished with his rant. And he was in the right. It was true, all of it.
When it seemed the Englishman had stopped for a breather, he interjected quickly into the phone, "Alfred, I'm sorry."
"Well," The old man huffed over the phone, "Sorry doesn't even *begin* to make up for the ordeal you put me through."
He was still angry. But his tone had quieted some. It was a start.
"I don't know what to do, Alfred..." Bruce trailed, gripping the cell phone tightly, eyes wandering the lavishly furnished room.
There was a sigh, and silence over the phone. Bruce could hear the muffled din of party guests outside the closed door.
"So it's true then, what I've been hearing..." Alfred sounded weary.
"Maybe he's changed, Alfred. I don't know. Tell me what to do."
"That *monster* killed Rachel, Master Wayne. I could tell you what to do, but that's not how you handle things."
"How I wish I could..."
"You and I BOTH know that's not true, sir."
"But what is there left to do?"
"...Arkham."
"That place can't hold him, Alfred."
"I know, sir. Just wishful thinking, on my part."
"On us both, Alfred." Bruce muttered. Though the inner Bat growled.
Liar.
He didn't know what he wanted.
Not anymore.
Growing up, it had been so easy. The world had been divided in black and white. None of this grey area. Although the Joker was anything but. He threw the whole black and white system out, adding his own splash of color into it.
At the continued silence, Bruce almost didn't catch Alfred's last words.
"What was that?" He asked, feeling as though he had just woken up. Sluggish. Thoughts of the Joker always seemed to affect him this way.
"Just *try* to pick up the phone next time, sir." Alfred repeated, ever patient.
"Careful, Alfred. You're starting to sound more and more like a mother hen." Bruce grinned.
He could see the other's smile through his lovingly sarcastic tone, "Well, sir, maybe if someone would act reasonable for once, I may not develop that particular syndrome."
"I'll talk to you later, Alfred." Bruce chuckled, heart feeling lighter already, with just minutes of conversation with his dear friend and close confidant. Besides Rachel, Bruce never really had any good friends growing up. Not any *real* one's, anyway. Everyone was always interested more in the status of peers and their fat wallets. Too busy to pay attention to more important things.
"Well, *if* you pick up, sir." Alfred joked. And they ended their conversation with a small laugh.
Bruce stared at the phone in his hand even after he had hung up. It was nice to hear the old man's voice, but it could never replace his *actual* presence. He clutched at it like a life preserver. Alfred always knew what to say, but this time he wished the butler would just TELL him what to do. Just tell him how to act, who to be. This whole Joker mess was just... too much. He couldn't *stand* the jester. The clown took too much enjoyment in pushing his buttons. Or was it that... he was afraid?
But of what?
What could the Joker possibly have over him, that he should be afraid?
As Bruce Wayne, he had the money, the connections, and more. As Batman he had the muscle, the power, and everything else.
Bruce's musing were interrupted as the door opened and someone stepped inside, "Ex-cuse me... Is this where the bathroom is?"
Caught off guard, Bruce turned, trying to slip his Wayne mask back on. But the dirty blonde had caught the tail end of it, cocking his head, "Is this a bad time?"
"I'm sorry, I..." Bruce started to answer half-heartedly. But stopped, unsure exactly why.
Something was fluttering frantic in his head, something familiar. Bruce narrowed his gaze, looking past the concerned question to the face underneath. The man was devilishly good looking. A fit build. Sleek but with some muscles under the suit. A runner's build.
His dirty blonde locks curled around his face and strong jaw, but by no means detracting from his beauty. Rather, the grunge look seemed to *enhance* it. Oddly enough, those piercing blue eyes watched him like a hawk, despite his casual demeanor, as if expectant. Waiting for something.
It was when Bruce's gaze trailed over the man's flawlessly bronzed skin, lingering at the raised scars on either side of his mouth, that the billionaire started. He looked up at those laughing eyes, that familiarly widening smirk.
Holy shi-
Bruce Wayne raced to the balcony doors. Perhaps Batman was safe from the lunatic's dagger, but Bruce Wayne was just another pretty face in the crowd. He didn't know the Joker's mood at the moment. And definitely did NOT wanna chance it. His inner Bat agreed with a vengeance.
The Joker was quick on his feet.
A fact Batman would never underestimate again and one Bruce should never have forgotten.
The blond haired menace shut the glass door even as Bruce opened it, pressing heavily against the playboy's suited back, effectively pushing Bruce's front against the cold exterior, and pinning him in place. A rising panic fluttered in Wayne's chest. He wasn't ready. Wasn't prepared to face the mad man just yet. His walls were crumbled, his guard down from the comforting conversation he just had on the phone.
What was the Joker doing there? How had he found him again?
Why did it feel so... warm having the jester's body so close?
Danger. His inner Bat raged. The Joker was danger and chaos incarnate.
Bruce struggled, but it was no use. The man had the upper hand, once more. And as infuriating as it was, he had to concede momentary defeat. But Bruce did not have to be happy about it.
"Joker." Bruce spat with as much venom as possible.
"Ooh hoo hoo, Brucy boy. You always rise past my expectations. No one else recognized me without my face on. The coppers at the door didn't even *look* at me twice. Hee Hee. Imagine my, er, surprise at seeing the guest of the hour disappear. It only took a little bit of searching, and here. You. Are." Joker grinned, suited chest fitting perfectly against Wayne's back. They were about the same height. Surprising since Bruce always felt like he should be taller. Seemed taller, especially in his Bat garb.
"What do you want, Joker?" Bruce bit through his teeth, fighting the trembling that wanted to shake his frame. He wanted to say it was rage. But he knew it was something more.
Joker leaned closer, breath curling intimately between the crook of Bruce's neck, "What about some more interesting questions. Like, ah, was the *infamous* Bruce Wayne, playboy and suave billionaire bachelor, just checking me out a second ago?"
A bulge rested easily against Bruce's backside, and his mind lapsed momentarily in shock at its presence. He had to be imagining it. Maybe if he stood still long enough, it would go away. As if to reassure the other it truly was there, Joker rocked against him suggestively. Enticingly. Joker didn't mind the attention. Was a whore for it, actually.
Bruce felt dread creep up his throat like living vines, holding his throat captive. But he tore through them, glaring at the door before him angrily, "Why can't we have civilized conversation for once? Face to face."
The Joker shrugged, "Er, okay."
In a move too fast for Bruce to register, Joker had whirled him around, before promptly shoving him backwards. Bruce took a few faltering steps, before stumbling over the arm of a couch, toppling harshly back into the cushions. Then the Joker was on top of him, caging him in with arms and legs. Bruce's only solace was that the man was content to hover, not making much bodily contact.
"Better?" Joker crooned, knowing EXACTLY how uncomfortable the man was in this position. It reminded him of his Bats, so eager for control. For the ridiculous notion of space and the blind comfort it offered. Oh how the Joker just *loved* to trample that naive notion under his foot, and beat it to the point of obscurity.
Bruce's brow arched, cutting a path through his panic as he rumbled, "This is... NOT exactly what I had in mind."
"Oh, I know Brucy. But I can't have you running off again, can I?" Joker chuckled matter-of-factly. The billionaire's unease was just a bonus given the situation.
"It seemed the appropriate response. Given your past reputation, I didn't know if you were gonna come after me with a knife." Bruce eyed him warily, his throat drier than he remembered a moment ago. He did NOT like having the Joker this close. It was reminding him of too many memories. As both the Bat *and* Bruce Wayne.
"Ha hah ahee hee ho," Joker burst into his familiar cackle, "You thought I would KILL you? Why would I *kill* you?"
Then the Joker seemed to think about it for a moment, brow creasing as he mentioned, "Although, I *may* have to punish you for omitting certain facts. Certain, er, unmentioned connections and ties you really have with a certain BAT character."
Bruce frowned, "I don't know what you're talking about-"
Joker fisted his collar, shaking him with every rising word, "Do. *Not*. LIE TO ME, Bruce." He forcefully calmed himself, releasing his shaking grasp to comb through his hair, straightening his suddenly crazed shift in mood. At a calmer tone, he said scathingly, "There's no point, really. I am. NOT. Stupid. My clowns have already learned the fatal repercussions of such a, eheh heh, foolhardy gesture."
Bruce cleared his throat, clearly taken aback at the ease with which Joker flipped through his demeanor. The man truly was unpredictable. He didn't doubt the wrong words could have a hidden blade pulled to his throat at any moment. Or plunged through his heart. The irony of the situation almost tugged at a bitter grin on the handsome billionaire's features. The Joker wanted the Bat. And killing him would most certainly ensure he would never return. He opted instead, for a more careful choice of words, "You must know the, uh, sensitivity of such private information. No one else knows."
Joker grinned wickedly, eyes lighting up in excitement like a kid in a candy store. Of course, this particular child would probably hold the store owner at knifepoint and demand whole bus loads of candy, but still...
"I knew it, oho ho, Brucy boy. You are just FULL of surprises. Like a piñata." Joker licked his lips, pleased that his theory had been proven true. Who else could have let the Bat know where he was going? Who else had the time to warn him? Joker hadn't even told his goons where he was going.
"Except I hit back." Bruce warned. If the Joker even so much as *thought* about hitting him, all bets were off. He wouldn't hold back.
This had Joker cackling again, "Such a backbone on you, too. I wonder what I will get for Christmas!"
"A one way ticket to Arkham, if St. Nicholas had *any* consideration for my sanity." Bruce replied harshly, fingers clenching on the cushions.
"Oh, Brucy." Joker grinned cheekily, "I doubt the jolly old man would want to visit ME. I'm so far off his naughty list it would be in his, er, good *health* -at least, ah, as much good health a man THAT size could have- to stay away from me."
"A luxury I am unfortunate enough to *not* have..."
"Oh Brucy! Words hurt, you know?" Joker cracked another grin, "Besides, I had to pay you a visit. What else do I have to occupy my time while the Bat sleeps the day away?"
If only.
Bruce couldn't believe he was even suggesting this, "What? No more banks for you to rob?"
Joker hooted, jumping to his feet as he pivoted to pace in front of the couch, "You *are* a comedian, Brucy. I can't... erm... DO that anymore. Not only has it lost its, hmm, flavorful *appeal*, buuuut, ahhhh...." Joker clicked his tongue, shaking his head, "well, my Bats just doesn't hang with THAT type of crowd. Not long term, anyway."
The Joker didn't know why he was telling the delectable billionaire these things. Anyone else who knew so much would be six feet under by now. There was just... *something* about the dark haired man. Something a part of the Joker wanted to reach out, shake, and pour all his secrets into. Make him listen. But for the life of him, the Joker could NOT figure out why.
As much as he wanted to jump up and run at his newfound freedom, Bruce knew it would be pointless. The man was faster than he gave him credit for. Besides that, his inner Bat was... curious.
He had heard the man weave his stories and deceitful narratives. The theatrical lies he spun to get the crowd going. To prepare himself for what he must do next. But this... was not one of those. This sounded... genuine. Not a word the Bat often associated with the mad clown.
He had to know.
He couldn't stop himself, he just had to stay to discover the truth.
"What do you mean...?" Bruce asked slowly, pushing himself to a sitting position, swinging his legs around so that it had been as if he had *properly* sat down and hadn't been shoved across the arm of it by the maniac before him.
Watching the billionaire warily, then confident in the fact that he wouldn't take off, Joker continued his pacing, "Well, this is, ah, a little embarrassing to admit. But, ah... I kinda want the Bats to... stick around. I want him to, er, *like* me."
Batman and Bruce were struck dumb.
The only word that could force it's way past frozen lips was a strangled, "Wha-WHY?"
"Call it an infatuation, if you will. Insanity, if you must. But I just. CANNOT. Get the Bats out of my head." The Joker looked truly frustrated then, pacing faster, gesturing wilder, "He's just... So... erm, *I* can't explain it. Now THAT'S sayin' somethin'. You know I can't sleep at night? Not anymore, no. That's when HE comes alive. All the crap I eat? Like ashes and dust. And I don't just eat garbage, mind you, er, no, no I don't." Joker paused midstride, finger to chin in thought, as though he were speculating aloud rather than revealing it all to his captive audience, "He's *changed* things. Not just for the mob, but for me... as well..."
This was bad.
So incredibly, unnervingly bad.
He could see clearly now, the bags under the unmasked Joker's eyes. How had he not caught it before?
Bruce hadn't a clue. Batman was even more confused.
"What... are you saying...?" Bruce cleared his throat, frightened of the answer. Terrified of its meaning. Afraid of what it would mean for the both of them. Thinking the Joker was just insane was easier. Was less... involved. But if this was anything like what Bruce himself was feeling, the mysterious, gut-clenching, feeling that rattled, -the feeling he blatantly ignored inside himself-... Well...
Joker smacked his lips, taking another step. Then stopping. Then taking another again, both times mouth slightly parted as if to start speaking again. But the man looked furious. About to pull his blonde hairs out by the roots, from the looks of it. He waved a hand in the air, standing still for a moment as he revealed, "Let's just say I've had a... ah... CHANGE in heart. The Bat he, eheh heh, has this unnerving way of tearing even the most well laid plans apart. You have no idea how, ugh, *frustrating* that is."
Bruce frowned harder, "Oh, I think I do..."
The billionaire HAD planned, after all, to lock the Dark Knight away. Permanently. But he was feeling less and less like it was his choice. If that was even an option, at this point.
At the billionaire's dry answer, Joker honed in on him once more. A thoughtful look coming over his face.
Joker frowned, taking a step closer, "Say Brucy, how ex-ac-T-ly do you *know* the Bat. He doesn't seem the, er, the type to hang in your social circle. Not that there's anything wrong with a bunch of Nancy boys talking about boring crap like money, but uh, do tell."
Bruce started, not prepared for the sudden shift in conversation, those hardened orbs focused on him once more. He let the gruff phrase slip, "Sorry. I don't kiss and tell..."
"IN-teresting choice of words." Joker grinned, voice pitching low, stepping even closer.
Bruce was already starting to his feet, not trusting the look in those blue eyes.
"How 'bout we jus' kiss *now*, and you can tell me later...?"
The inner Bat growled. The crazed clown was relentless.
"How about not." Bruce snapped, side stepping quickly to place the couch between them.
Joker cackled darkly, pausing at the front of the small barrier, taunting his prey with his piercing gaze. He traced those aquiline features with his burning gaze, memorizing every bone, every crease, every hollow. How that adam's apple bobbed slowly, the young billionaire nervous despite his growing rage. Would his Bats have such a nose, Joker wondered. Would he have such pristine cheekbones? Such a handsome countenance under that dark cowl?
He imagined if Bruce WAS his Bats, how *perfect* that would be. The man fighting to hide his darker nature from the clown. Struggling in vain to keep his composure. How wonderful it would be to remind him just how superbly Joker had made him cum in the restaurant. How tantalizing it had been to watch. It was one of his favorite fantasies. Next to the ecstasy-filled pleasure with his Bats at the hospital, of course. But if Bruce Wayne and his Bats were one and the same, he would cherish both. Jerk off, equally as hard, to both.
Bruce Wayne frowned. If one could taste lust, his tongue and pallet would be overloaded with it at the amount pouring from the Joker. The way those broad shoulders hunched, the Joker's very form tense, had Bruce's nerves on edge. The look in those blue eyes was nymphomania personified. He shuddered to *think* what perverse fantasies the man must have running through his head.
"Brucy, Brucy, Brucy..." Joker sighed darkly, "Must we always play hard to get?"
"I'm not trying to play ANYthing, Joker. What I WANT is for you to leave me. The hell. *Alone*." Bruce grated. How he wished he could be safe in his Kevlar and rage, punching the Joker with everything he had.
"That's funny," Joker quipped, licking his lips as he leaned on hands flat against the cushion, eyes focused solely on the bachelor on the other side of the couch, nasally voice smoothing out as it pitched lower, "'cause you see... what *I* want... is to FUCK your brains out. Now we're gonna have to come to *some* sort of compromise here..."
Bruce felt color rise to his cheeks at the Joker's blatant admittance. He felt his cock twitch at how the mad man was able to utter the word so sinfully well, made dirtier by the Joker's velvet rasp and riveted gaze.
"That is the LAST thing in the world I would want to have you do to me." Bruce glared fiercely, head tilted down, his inner Bat muscling forward in his moment of weakness.
"Ah, the lies... we.... tell....." Joker started off strong, but trailed off. His head cocked to the side, frown in place. So familiar. Why was it all so familiar? He really had NOT met Bruce before that quick debut over at the GCPD ceremony. So what...? What was it about that glare, that tilt of the head, that sparked something in Joker's jumble of memories?
Bruce quickly realized his mistake. That was the pose he often struck with his cape and cowl on. He couldn't be doing that, unmasked, in front of the Joker! Clearing his throat into a clenched fist, an excuse that allowed him to change the tilt of his head, the billionaire forced his squared shoulders to relax and glanced back up at the Joker, "If you'll excuse me. I have a party to return to."
The Joker was busy frowning in contemplation. And Bruce was quick to make good in a hasty escape. He had just made it to the door when that nasally voice broke the silence, "It's only gonna get worse, you know..."
"Excuse me?" Bruce questioned, hand on the handle, but head turned to the side. He was safe, the Joker was still in front of the couch, a dozen paces away. He could tell by the sound of his voice. Though it thrummed with the heat of danger.
"A kiss. The kiss I want. If you, er, don't give it to me *now* it's only gonna get worse for you, heh heh, *later*..." Joker chuckled darkly.
"I think you'll find, that I am *not* a man to be easily intimidated, Mr. Joker." Bruce replied through a stiff jaw.
As he slipped through the door, he could hear the jester's parting words, "Oh I KNOW Brucy, that's what makes up half the *fun*..."
Bruce closed the door with a grimace. He didn't know what the Joker was planning, but it could not be good.
-o-o-o-
Bruce could feel those eyes burning into him, but he resolutely ignored it, as he had for the first half of the ball.
He refused to be cowed into leaving early, at a benefit clearly hosted in his honor. It almost made him want to take back his charitable donation.
Almost.
Wayne just fell back on his first plan.
To blatantly *ignore* the maniac and hope to dear heavens he would just LEAVE.
"-the stocks of Vayne Industries a good investment, Mr. Vayne?" The flirtatious red head questioned, batting her eyes at him. Her matching crimson dress was cut low in the front, threatening to expose her more feminine parts.
Glass delicately balanced between the curl of two fingers, Bruce leaned forward to dazzle her with a smile, "I believe you'll find my opinion to be a little bias, Ms. Janine. That being said, yes. Yes I do believe it is a good investment."
She laughed coyly behind her hand, green eyes gazing into his. But it was not with the same wonder as a certain pair of blues. Bruce shook his head to rid himself of that thought. Why would he even *think* of the Joker just then?
"You are funny, Mr. Vayne. They did not say you vould be." She smiled, her Russian accent thick as syrup.
"Who?" Bruce questioned with a soft smile.
Janine's eyes widened as she realized her slip up. Little did she know Bruce Wayne already knew *who* she spoke of. The circles of socialites scheming to get married to rich, successful men, in order to be set for life.
She was one of them.
He could always tell.
But she was quick to try to divert his attention, a sloppy patch up job that Bruce felt obligated to let her drag him through, "Come dance vith me, Mr. Vayne."
With a quick nod and a fake smile she didn't catch on to, Bruce allowed her to take him out to the floor.
He stood in place, among the throng of ladies and gentlemen on the dance floor. Waiting with an inward grimace for the band to start playing. How he hated these functions. These charades he was forced to play. He never felt anything for any of them. Not a single one.
And if he had the slightest inclination, he could take Janine home with him at any moment, to give her a night to brag about to her socialite peers. That was just the problem.
He didn't even feel the inclination. At all.
Why was he even dancing again?
Oh right, to avoid the Joker.
He turned to her, another fake smile in place, when it faltered in recognition of the man striding towards them.
Bruce grimaced.
Not exactly the wallflower he had been hoping for.
"Ex-squeeze me, honey cakes. But I'm gonna have to cut in. Not literally, er, un-for-tu-naTely, but figuratively." Joker stepped next to a flabbergasted redhead, the woman unable to decide whether to be insulted or taken aback at the rugged blonde's good looks.
She went with the former as she caught the slight frown forming on Bruce's face, her thick accent brimming with spite as she began, "How *dare* you-"
"Atatata, grown ups talking now, sweetie. Run along." Joker tried again, twirling as he caught her along his spin and gave her a gentle push in another direction.
The blonde turned back to the deeply frowning playboy, opening his mouth and raising a finger to speak.
But the Russian opened her big one first, "Who do you think you are?"
Bruce, as much as he would love any excuse to delay time spent alone with the Joker, knew she was treading dangerous waters. Could see it in the telltale frown creasing the man's eyes. Those icy blues turning stormy, though a smile was still affixed on his face.
He tried to step in, "Janine..."
Bruce shook his head once, eyes serious for the first time that night.
"No, Mr. Vayne, I vill not tolerate this-" She started to argue, her voice turning shrill.
But Joker shouldered in, a growl churning his voice as he muttered deeply, "Take a hike, toots. If you had an ounce of smarts in that pea-sized brain under all that hairspray, you would clearly see Bruce *Vayne* is. Not. In-ter-rested. In you."
She stood, gaping at the man. The danger she could see now clearly see lurking beneath the handsome blonde's facade struck her dumb. Like a slap in the face. Her instincts told her to run. This was not worth it. She glanced at Bruce, who looked grim as he shook his head once more, before turning and leaving in a huff, expensive heels clacking loudly against the ballroom floor.
"Yea, ta ta sweet cakes." Joker waved distastefully.
When he turned around it was to the iron grip on his arm, a furious Bruce growling lowly, "What. Do you think. You are doing?"
All traces of anger was wiped from Joker's face, the real grin back in place as he replied, "Oh, puh-lease, Brucy boy. You honestly think you were interested in... *that*? I swear there's a certain, erm, desperate odor around snobs like her. Did it stick? Is it on me?"
"You keeping tabs on my dates now?" Bruce's lips were pressed thin, his grip still solid.
Joker blinked. Clearly holding back from a guffaw of laughter as he glanced at the retreating redhead, then back at him. A small chuckle bubbled up as he snorted, "What? THAT was a date?"
"...It could have been." Bruce admitted reluctantly, releasing the man in favor of turning and attempting to leave.
"I think someone's in de-NIAL." Joker said in a singsong way.
Bruce made it four steps before an arm was curling around his waist, spinning him right back into the mad man. Bruce attempted to shove the man off, but Joker just held on tighter, other arm wrapping around to pin down any unruly upper limbs. When he realized he was well and truly stuck, unless he wanted to start a scene by head-butting the fiend and starting a tussle -something his inner Bat wasn't quite opposed to- Bruce quit moving to glare at the man.
Joker merely smirked. Licking his lips, he leaned forward, not minding at all that the billionaire in his hold leaned back, attempting to keep what little distance he could.
"You can't deny this, Brucy. You may play along with this playboy bachelor facade, but I, ah, know for a fact, that, heh, NO ONE makes you feel like *I* do. None of your glamour girls hooked pathetically on your arm, beaming for all the world to see 'cause they have THE Bruce Wayne struttin' 'em around. None of your boring old geezers that you talk your, ah, busi-ness with... NONE of them." Joker spoke with knowing, truth glinting from his yellow canines.
Instead of acknowledging it, or the rising heat from such close proximity, Bruce flexed his pinned arms, "You mind?"
"If I recall correctly -which I do, 'cause my, erm, memory is perfect- you were about to dance." Joker chided.
Bruce pulled back as much as he could, snapping, "Not with YOU..."
"What?" Joker frowned in thought, almost as if he were truly worried, "Is dancing too fast for a second date?"
"This is *not* a DATE." Bruce's fierce gaze could melt molten steel.
It just tickled the Joker.
The band started up. The soft trumpets and melodious chimes filled the decadent room with their splendor. Dancers began moving around them.
"Oh, here. We. Go." Joker cackled, releasing the playboy's arms in favor of taking one hand, the other still wrapped securely around his unwilling dance partner's waist.
Bruce tried planting his feet, but the Joker managed to botch that somehow, and Wayne -with great reluctance- danced along.
"Didn't realize the waltz was on your list of murderer-slash-psychopath credentials." Bruce muttered, disgruntled at being dragged along. Despite his jibe, he truly was surprised just how *well* the Joker knew the steps.
"Ah, well this is the least interesting in my arsenal of skills. Would you like to know some of my more *pleasurable* talents, Mr. Wayne?" His gloved hand at Bruce's waist slipped lower.
Bruce growled, quickly jerking the hand back upwards as he snapped, "I would thank you to keep your skills and talents to yourself, Joker."
Having the jester's hand on his waist was not his ideal place for the demented appendage, but it was certainly more favorable than having it grope his ass.
"Heh heh, that's NOT what it sounded like the other night..." Joker trailed, wetting his lips with an audible smack.
Bruce set his mouth in a thin line, refusing to speak as they continued to glide across the dance floor. He *could* explain the definition of rape, but he certainly didn't expect the Joker to listen. And he certainly did not feel he had the symptoms of a rape victim. He didn't *feel* like a victim at all.
What he felt, was an inexplicable tide of anger. All directed at the mad man currently waltzing with him. It seemed Joker was damn good at anything he put his mind to. It was just too bad his mind had to stray so much in Bruce's direction. Vigilante or no.
"You know, I *was* planning on watching you all night. But then I saw that slut drag you out to the dance floor and I just *had* to save you. Honestly, does everyone lack the simple ability to *read* people. You, erm, clearly did not wanna spend time with her, much less dance. Or fuck later on. At least not, eheh heh, with *her*." Joker drawled, hand tightening imperceptibly on Bruce's waist.
Bruce barely caught the motion.
But he started at the man's words, ignoring the crude ending part to question the beginning, brow arching incredulously, "So let me get this straight, you came out here to *save* me? Like you *saved* me on my last date?"
"Knew you had to be brighter than you looked." Joker gleamed, proud.
"I don't asked to be saved. Least of all by you, Joker." Bruce tugged once more, against the man. He actually managed to get one side free, attempting to step away.
Only for Joker to jerk the movement into a spin, twirling the billionaire back into his arms as he held him close enough to whisper, "No Brucy. Wrong again. You are practically *begging* for it."
Bruce's eyes demanded the words his lips would not say.
How?
Just what the hell was Joker talking about?
Bruce's fists itched to beat the answer out of the man. Realizing it was the Bat, attempting to shift this dance onto more familiar grounds, the playboy stilled the urge. Who knew what the psycho would do. How he would react. For all Bruce knew, it might even egg Joker on to screw him to the floor in front of all these people. Being seen dancing with the mystery man was fodder enough to pump up the rumor mill. He expected male propositions in less than a day, along with his usual female requests.
A dancing couple nearly barreled into them, though Joker had them scuttling away with a fierce glare and a snarled, "Do you MIND?"
They looked affronted, but shuffled away. Muttering to themselves as they pointedly looked away. Joker chuckled.
Bruce was baffled as the Joker transitioned from barely contained rage back to his darkly playful nature, attention back on the billionaire in his clutches.
"It's very simple, Brucy." Joker lowered the handsome bachelor into a backwards dip, taking his leisure to press against the man's well built form as he did so. The perfectly sculpted playboy was hanging on to his every word, ready to build an argument no matter what was said. He could see it in those burning mochas. Stubborn. Resilient. Perfect. Joker's eyes fluttered shut as he felt the intense caress, imagining a certain Kevlar imposing figure fixing him with the same, intent gaze. He shuddered in the small fantasy, opening his eyes to fix Bruce with a glimmering smirk, "You need me."
As Joker pulled Bruce back upright, swirling once more in motion to the slow rhythm of the dance, Joker was intrigued to find a fist wrinkling his lapels. A boring shade of grey, to fit in with the monotony of the Galla. His extravagant purple, while it WAS his favorite, just would not do in this atmosphere. Though he felt naked enough *without* his face on.
"Elaborate." Bruce demanded, eyes set in a serious frown. He couldn't believe he was indulging the maniac, but he was curious. Too curious for his own good, perhaps.
"You were born into this cozy and rich lifestyle, but it does not suit you, nor, ah... you, IT. These sycophants, slanderers and deceitful bags of wind, go against ev-er-Y-thing you believe in. You are above them. You just don't know it. And, erm, *I* happen to be the most inter-es-ting person you've ever come across. Heh heh, 'cause you see *I* can see through all the bull, and act accordingly. I don't fall whim to false pretenses. To social stigmas. To restrictions and labels that make the normal man quake in his boots. I do as I please and THAT *intrigues* you. You hate me so much, because *I* can do what you cannot."
"What?" Bruce gaze hardened, still unable to believe he was even *listening* to this nonsense, "Kill innocent people and blow up public property? Hardly the type of thing-"
"No." Joker cut him off with a sad smile, "You see, *I*. Am. FREE..."
Bruce stared at the man, pausing before stating, "I don't know what you're-"
The hand at his waist shifted to his upper back, tugging the billionaire close enough for Joker to whisper in his ear, "And... only *I* can set you FREE..."
"I am NOT caged." Bruce was stiff, with the Joker so close. The man was unpredictable. And for some reason the closer the man was, the more unpredictable the jester would become.
"Oh, but you *are* Brucy. You... ARE." Joker licked his own lips, the smacking sound louder with the blonde menace so close to his ear, "You... just, ah, don't realize it."
"I thought they said ignorance was bliss." Bruce tried to pull away.
But Joker jerked him back, growling in rising ire, "*No*. NO... Ignorance is for lazy suckers and pond scum. Not for you, no, definitely not. Otherwise you wouldn't have associated with the Bat."
At his own mention of his obsession, Joker clicked his tongue in cheek. Tracing the scars absentmindedly. Already he saw Bruce's eyes darkening at the look that lit up Joker's face. Grinning, Joker leaned in, "Saaaaayyy, how ex-ACT-ly do you get, er, a hold of the Bat? You got his number or somethin'? Oooh, or maybe even his address. I wouldn't mind comin' over and screwing his brains out in his own bed."
Bruce's face flushed darkly, "What makes you think I'd tell you after *that*?"
Joker's head cocked, preening as he questioned, "What, Brucy...? *Jealous*?"
"W-what?! NO." Bruce managed a face of revulsion over his inner Bat's darker pondering, finally managing to tear away from the man.
Joker merely snickered, allowing the frazzled man to get away this time. The symphony was over anyway, and he had plans of sorts, for later on. He could bide his time until then.
Bruce turned quickly, fists clenching and unclenching as he strode away. He couldn't think clearly. Think straight. Not with that mad clown filling his senses. Using every advantage to *touch* him. Press against him. Remind him *exactly* how that lithe, powerful body would like to USE his.
He wasn't planning on stopping.
But then Joker's voice asked, over the small din of the crowd, "Who's Alfred...?"
Bruce froze.
Gut churning, he turned.
And standing in the middle of the dance floor, was the Joker, busy hunched over a tiny object in his dangerous hands. The black gleam of a familiar blackberry. The cold of ice down the billionaire's spine.
Bruce felt his breath stop, strangled in his throat.
He didn't need to pat down his pockets. He KNEW whose phone that was.
"Excuse me, pardon me." Bruce said as he stepped through and around the clutter of people between them. Making his way *back* into the madness. Trying to get to the Joker before he discovered more damning evidence.
"Not a lot of phone calls on this thing, but my does, erm, ALFRED, show up a lot in the call history..." Joker mused aloud.
Bruce barely kept from bowling over the remaining guests between him and the mad man, finally reaching him as he gave a barely uttered growl, "GIVE me that."
Surprisingly, his hand did manage to grasp the cell, but the Joker's other hand clasped over his in a tight grip before he could pull away.
That crazed madness lurked in that hardened blue gaze, Bruce matching glare for glare as the Joker growled deeply, accusingly, "Is he your *BOYfriend*?"
Disgust blinked in those narrowed browns as Bruce snapped, "He's like a father to me..."
"Oh." And with that, Joker was back to his crazed contentment, releasing the playboy once more.
Bruce looked down at his cell, feeling it was contaminated, as the Joker pranced away. A merry, "Enjoy the party, Brucy." thrown over his shoulder as he skipped along.
At unease at how the man let him slip away, unscathed, Bruce fought the urge to follow him as Joker disappeared into the crowd of guests.
That couldn't be it, could it?
Things with the Joker were never simple.
Bruce headed over to the serving table at the other end of the room, wishing sorely that he was a true, drinking man. But other than the occasional glass here and there, he never truly got himself well and blissfully hammered. Too many chances to slip up. He liked to retain a measure of control, at all times. Perhaps that's why the Joker got to him so well. He was always yanking that rug out from under him, making him question. Making him stumble.
Laughing while he did so.
With a hearty exhale, he swiped a glass of something fizzy from a passing server, downing it in one, throat burning swallow.
"What was that about?" Gordon's voice filtered past Bruce's film of irritation and self-doubt.
Setting the empty glass down, Bruce wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the words coming out harsher than he intended, "Don't ask."
His hand burned. The one the Joker had clasped when questioning him. The same that he'd been holding while they... danced. Bruce flexed his fingers, trying to shake it out. That strange warmth that was the Joker.
Gordon held his hands up in surrender, "Not my business. Got it."
"Sorry Gordon," Bruce mustered up an apologetic smile, "it's really... not my night tonight."
"I can see that, son." Gordon speculated, fixing his glasses higher up on his nose, "Why don't you call it in early? No one would blame you. I did kind of spring this on you last minute, after all."
"No, Gordon." Bruce went for a wider grin, "This must've taken some effort on your part. The least I can do is see it to the end."
The Commissioner smiled, "Another glass, then?"
But Bruce declined, "No thank you, I don't feel up to drinking too much tonight."
"Suit yourself." Gordon replied with a shrug, downing his own glass.
-o-o-o-
Bruce felt his nerves crawling. Twitching. He had been on edge all afternoon and late into the evening, waiting for the Joker to show up. Hopefully it was dark enough that he was out, searching for the Bat. Another thing he wasn't looking forward to.
Bruce grimaced.
Why did the Joker hang around so much? Could what the madman's revealing words be true. Could *he* have captured the heart of darkness? Well he didn't want it. Couldn't handle it.
Bruce Wayne could face the media, the clambering journalists, the outraged public. Batman could take the criminals, the cops, and everything else.
But he couldn't take THIS.
Whatever *this* was...
A small smile lit his face as the limousine pulled up along the curb. That had been the longest ball of his life. And he couldn't wait to go home and...
His smile faltered.
And what? Alfred wasn't home. He barely donned the Bat suit anymore, at least, not as often as he had before this whole... debacle.
He just... wanted to go.
He walked up to the limo before it stopped completely, pulling open the back door before the driver could come out and open it for him. The last thing he wanted was trivial courtesies.
And the absolute LAST thing he expected was for gloved hands to reach out of the back seat, fisting the front of his dress coat, yanking him inside with a familiar scratchy snarl, "C'mer, HOT stuff."
Bruce could make out the squeal of the limo pealing away from the hotel, the hard thud of the door slamming behind him, and the feel of strong hands even as he landed roughly inside, on top of somebody in the dim interior.
"Time for some, erm, *disciplinary* action." The painted face cackled beneath Bruce.
Bruce eyes widened, slugging the Joker across the face to let him go as he turned to reach for the door.
But the Joker grabbed him and threw him along the long leathered side seat of the limo's interior, hooting maniacally as he corrected, "Not from *you*, heh eheh, Brucy! From. ME." The last word dipped dangerously low, that primal voice Joker reserved for the most serious of situations.
Bruce felt hands fumbling with his belt, whipping the strap of leather away with a loud crack. As his pants were being tugged down, he kicked blindly. It was so hard to see in the dim lighting. That and his panic was starting to take over. His mastery of his own fear thrown to the wind in the face of this new taste of danger.
It was overwhelming.
Intoxicating.
And it was purely Joker.
Joker cackled, catching the foot meant for his face, and using it to easily tug the pants all the way off. Leaving a delectably wide eyed billionaire sprawled along the seat in his boxers. He had to do this fast, before the playboy could recover enough to put up a *real* fight. And as fun as those were, that wasn't quite the agenda Joker had planned.
"Atatata ta, *eager* are we?" Joker purred, ripping off the last line of the man's defense, dangling the boxers winningly, before tossing them over his shoulder. He drank in the muddled, slowly building fury clearing in those panic-stricken eyes.
Mmm, a dose of billionaire was *just* what he needed to start his night prowling off on the right foot.
"Joker! You can't- gah!" Bruce arched at the unexpected, wet, intrusion. It had been without warning. Without foresight. And the tongue in his ass sent a shot of electric pleasure up his spine.
"Joker!" Bruce tried again, the name strangled as he arched and writhed under the skillfully applied ministrations.
Joker loved it. Loved the way the man said his name. It was not as deep as the Bat's guttural snarl, but it was delicious all the same.
He nestled in deeper, further, nudging Bruce's thighs around his shoulders, pressing his tongue into the innocent depths with more fervor.
Bruce Wayne whimpered, dissolved into a bucking, writhing mess.
"Joker, stop!" He pleaded, meaning for the words to come out as a command, but unable to put the force behind it as he had intended.
He gave a sobbed moan, the feeling of the tongue inside too much. From the Joker. It was all too much.
Joker slurped maniacally, drinking in the gasps and groans like sweet drops of candy. The man was always so stubborn. Always fighting him. To have him such a moaning wreck spread before was as tantalizing as the predawn tryst he had the Bat plowing into him at Gotham East. But the way the man was keening, arching, it was... curious.
Reluctantly, Joker pulled back from that heated entrance, licking his lips as he questioned in a tone warped with lust, "Don't tell me Brucy... you've never been...?"
Bruce fought through the haze of pleasure, limbs shaking as he pushed himself up to glare at the crazed jester, "J-joker, you'd better stop before-"
"Oho ho ho, this is just too good to be true! My Brucy has never been with a man. My my it *is* your lucky night. And MINE. Eheh heh heh..." Joker's hands gripped those silky thighs hard enough to bruise, trembling minutely with barely constrained lust and pleasure. Joker smacked his lips, blowing heated air against Bruce's clenching hole, promising with a bittersweet darkness, "Don't worry, Brucy boy, I'll make it, erm, SPECIAL..."
"I don't want ANYthing from you- ah!" Bruce gasped, throwing his head back against the leathers, fingers that itched to strangle the man gripping the seat instead as the dexterous tongue plunged back in to rock his world.
If he had any question as to what 'punishment' Joker had in mind, it was quickly obliterated, Bruce left grasping at thin threads of control. Trying to get a hand of the situation spiraling away from his fingertips.
This couldn't be happening. He was supposed to be heading home. For a relatively boring night of research. On his never ending quest to end the outings as the Dark Knight.
But instead he was trapped. Here. In the greedy hands of the mad jester.
"Joker. *Please*..." Bruce keened, hips arching, unable to stop from bucking, that determined tongue striving to trace his insides, wrenching every shuddering gasp from him that it could.
His pleading had the exact opposite effect he had been hoping for. The Joker putting more gusto in his actions. Sweat broke out on that flawless skin. Or at least it looked flawless in the dark interior of the hijacked limousine. It certainly *felt* perfectly sculpted under Joker's restraining hands.
And then that tricky pink appendage hit *that* spot and the wound up Bruce was arcing hard, straining as he came, harder than he ever had without direct stimulation to his spurting shaft.
He was boneless. And panting like he had run a marathon.
But as his glazed eyes fell on the trickster, he realized it wasn't over yet.
Spitting into his hand, Joker scooped up some of the sticky whiteness and lathered his own glistening manhood.
"Didn't think you were getting off *that* easily, didja Brucy?" Joker lined himself up, feeling the beginnings of the billionaire attempting to move. To fight. To struggle. But Joker grinned, "Time to pay the piper..."
And with one hard thrust, he was in.
And it. Felt. Glorious.
"J-joker!" Bruce's voice was tight, as constricting as the muscles that clenched around the large cock rammed inside.
The clown's grip was like steel, face contorted in bliss as he paused. Relishing the moment. The feel of that velvet heat around his aching organ.
"Ugh... perfect..." Joker breathed wordlessly.
He should've prepared the young billionaire more. He could see the pain in the darker haired man's features. But he couldn't help myself. Besides the Bat, Bruce Wayne was the only other person Joker just could not resist. It was a delicious heat that curled inside. And Joker wanted MORE.
"No..." Bruce moaned, feeling Joker pulling out slowly, knowing what was coming next, "N-no don't -Ah!"
Joker plunged back inside. Deeper, if that was possible. He grunted in pure heaven.
"Hush Shh Shh Shh, Brucy. Joker'll make it FEEL better in a moment..."
"Joker..." Bruce whimpered, in part rage and part exhaustion, as the man took his soft cock in his dexterous hand.
"That's right... say my name, Brucy." Joker felt himself pulse harder inside. Oh how he needed this. Wanted this.
So bad.
It was like a beautiful dream.
One he never wanted to wake from.
He wanted to shove his aching rod into the Bats, but he hadn't done so in the hospital. Though he could have. Yes. But he wanted there to be no restraints. Nothing to keep the Bats down. He would fight him. Tooth and nail. And it would make it THAT much sweeter to force the Dark Knight to *submit*.
"Oh Brucy..." Joker groaned, pumping the man in time with his thrusts, keeping it slow. Deep. Allowing the man the luxury of getting acquainted with the new fullness. The hardness driving deep in his core, the Joker hilting *every* time. Joker growled, "You *are* a nice piece of, mmm, ass. But I would love nothing more... than to fuck my Bats. Shove this dick in him 'till he can't take no more. Hope you don't take it personal."
His inner Bat growled at the thought. He wouldn't let the man dominate him like that.
Couldn't.
Not with the suit. The cape and cowl. He was more than what he was as Bruce Wayne. When he was Batman, he was a symbol. He couldn't let Joker taint that.
"Ngh," Bruce scrambled hands against the cushions, shaking his head, "He would, gah, NEVER."
"Mm, never is such a... misleading word. Betcha thought you would *never* be fucked by me."
"This, ah, is *different*..."
"NO. *No*... it's. NoT." Joker's tongue clicked on the last syllable, showing the first tremor of anger since the last time.
Joker shoved in deeper. Harder. And Bruce cried out loudly, back arcing. His tailored suit bunched up behind his back as he slid backwards along the seat, the thrust pushing him away from the rapturous heat of the clown's body.
Bruce's trembling fingers grabbed the edges of the seat, attempting to get away. Pull his vulnerable body away from the depraved maniac. But the Joker was prepared for that.
His gloved hands gripped muscled thighs harder, jerking the dark haired man back towards him even as he rammed his hardened shaft forward. He reveled in the shout of ecstasy pried from billionaire lips, body taut underneath him. The man was so... flexible. It was delicious.
"Atatata, not trying to get away, are we Brucy? Heh eheh, let's see how you do against THIS." Joker spread those quaking legs further apart, releasing Bruce's cock in the process and bending the man's pliant body a little more as he plunged eagerly back in. He hit that *spot* and the billionaire shook uncontrollably, insides clenching as he came hard, the second time that night.
Joker nearly came himself, that velvet heat tightening around him. But he held off, watching the arousing display of emotions as the man beneath him unraveled, face contorted in pleasured anger as he shot his load between them.
Bruce's chest was heaving, pleasure and exhaustion weighing down his limbs. But the relentless bastard was at it again. He hadn't cum once. And Bruce's own cock, sensitized by the the orgasms, twitched at the friction between their bodies. His ass, relaxed enough to allow the Joker easy passage, brought shuddering jolts of electricity and heat down his curved spine at the talented cock shoving ruthlessly inside. The pleasure was too much.
"No... Ngh, no more, Joker." Bruce rasped, head lolling back, eyes clenched shut to fight the forced ministrations.
"No, Brucy." Joker grunted, erection straining full and hard, slamming into the man again and again and again, "I won't stop until I come hard inside you, mm. You will *never* be fucked this good by anyone else. My cock is deep now, you will NEVER forget the feel of it, shoving hard inside you. And you. Will never. LIE. To me. AGAIN."
There were no more words after that. Just the sound of flesh pounding on flesh. The feel of Joker's insistent meat riding Bruce raw.
Bruce arced, and moaned, and shook. His own cock stiffening once more. The Joker was relentless. Driven. And he plowed that ass like the world was ending.
In a way, Batman's was falling apart. Piece, by pleasure jolting piece. The Joker was ramming into him hard. And it felt *good*. He shook his head in denial, but quivered and moaned all the same. He even found his traitorous hips jerking upwards to meet each brutal thrust downwards.
Joker had found the coiled bunch of nerves, ramming into it each time. Making Bruce quake and tremble.
"Joker... Joker..." Bruce gasped.
This couldn't be happening. But it was. With each thrust the Joker claimed the man beneath him. Each ripple of muscle and sinful grunt, he made Bruce his.
As if to affirm it, Joker grunted in a soft snarl, "Mine. Mine. MY Bruce."
Bruce keened and arched and mewled. Slowly unraveling. His shaft hot and hard once more.
Joker snarled and pounded into that tight ass, loving every second of it. It was close. The pinnacle. The breaking point. And Joker was more than ready for it.
"Brucy." He murmured, hips not stopping their surging force.
Those eyes were still shut tight.
"BRUCY..." Joker growled, insistent.
Those beautiful eyes pried open, accusing brown clouded in a turmoil of lust and rage.
"Scream for me..." Joker grunted.
Despite the wrongness of it, despite his adamant denial and anger, Bruce did, his earth shaking as that insatiable cock pushed him over a third time that night, "Ngh! Ah! JOKER!!!"
That was all the Joker needed for his own release.
He rammed hard into that perfect ass, thighs slapping thighs, cock inserted to the hilt. His hands gripped those playboy thighs hard enough to bruise, ensuring the other wasn't going anywhere as he emptied his long awaited load into its beautiful container.
The clown ejaculated deep inside that unbearable heat at the same moment Bruce's splashed between their chests, their climaxes one and the same.
There was only one other person who could feel better under him. One person that Joker desired to take in such a fashion. Rough. Relentless. Insurmountable.
But Bruce was a hell of a good lay himself.
Bruce Wayne was speechless. Batman was... furious. But he really didn't have the extra energy to get up and slug the clown good for what he just did. He would make him pay.
Er, later...
And as the billionaire, boneless and weary, dropped sluggishly to the bliss of sleep, he heard the sound of the Joker.
Chuckling softly to his heart's content.
-o-o-o-
Bruce woke on the steps to his mansion, wincing as he stood. The pain originated in his lower extremities. And he KNEW he was gonna have to take a couple nights off as the Bat.
As he hurried inside to shower, to clean the hot stickiness from under his suit, Bruce's eye caught something in the mirror. Something written in red on his ass.
Xoxo -Joker
"Sick, deprived maniac..." Bruce muttered aloud, angry.
But who was he more mad at? The Joker for pulling such a stunt? Or himself for possibly having enjoyed it?
With a fury he couldn't begin to explain, he jumped in the shower and scrubbed until the words were gone. And his skin gleamed pink.
But it couldn't take away the taint the Joker had left on his soul.
Then again, he couldn't argue that when he fell asleep, it was the first time in years he had ever felt truly rested.
Almost... content.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Even Bats Fall