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With wooden stairs creaking under heavy boots, Bruce silently cursed the entire city’s police force for the millionth time. He hated anonymous tips - always had - and there was a reason they'd remained Commissioner Gordon’s department. Too many dead ends, too many false leads, too much effort with little reward. 

But recently the tips coming to the GCPD had gotten a habit of becoming reliable. Too reliable in Bruce’s opinion. They’d led to the successful arrest of five members of a newly formed gang trying to terrorise Gotham, with the latest tip-off the reason Bruce was currently in an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city’s suburbs.

He'd arrived twenty minutes ago under the assurance that the gang member had been seen entering the building, but if anyone was here, they’d managed to find themselves a very good hiding spot. The entire ground floor was devoid of life, except for the mould growing on the walls and leftover food on the side and Bruce had a feeling a sweep of the second floor would prove just as pointless. 

But Batman was nothing if not thorough.

The second floor consisted of three rooms. One was a small bathroom that didn’t look as though it'd been used any time recently until Bruce saw the objects scattered around the edge of the sink. He frowned. All the members of the gang had been reported as male and the tip had said they’d seen a man entering this house. Unless it was a disguise?

Whatever its purpose, the makeup proved that at the very least someone had been here and very recently if the newness of the makeup was anything to go by.

It managed to fill Bruce with a bit more confidence as he continued his sweep of the other rooms, although the first bedroom was as empty as the rest of the house. Which meant that if anyone was still around, there was only one place left for them to hide.

With a firm grip on the door handle and his body tensed, Bruce entered the second bedroom and found…nothing. The room was completely bare, except for a wooden chair in the centre and a table by the window. There were no other furnishings of any kind - not even carpet or curtains - and, if possible, Bruce's frown grew even deeper.

As his eyes took in his surroundings the whine of door hinges had him spinning around. The door closed, revealing a tall figure leaning against the wall. The only lighting in the room was the dim amber streetlight streaming in through the window, making it hard to distinguish any of their features as they lingered in the shadows.

“Show yourself,” Bruce demanded. They didn’t look especially dangerous but there was an air of confidence to them that made him wary.

There was a giggle and, before they even finished their step forward, Bruce knew exactly who they were. His usual vigilance was replaced with the cold, sharp awareness that immediately took over whenever he faced the man who'd become his long-term nemesis.

“Joker,” he said, not even bothering to hide his irritation. So, not only was this tip an absolute waste of time but it had clearly been a ruse to carry out whatever new, terrible scheme had been concocted by that warped mind. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Joker replied, voice saccharine sweet as he took a second step forward.

Bruce’s stance turned defensive, his fists curling for attack but Joker held his hands up in surrender and immediately stepped back.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Joker said, holding up a finger. “No fisticuffs if you please. I’ve put a lot of effort into this evening-” His hand travelled downwards, before coming back up. “-which you would see, if you’d cared to look - and I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

Bruce frowned, but stayed where he was as his eyes gave the clown a quick once-over. He began at the feet and his eyes widened to discover the Joker was wearing a pair of glossy heels.

“Like them?” Joker asked, twisting his left ankle to give Bruce a better view. “I should hope so. I got them for you, after all and they were very expensive.”

Bruce ignored the comment and the chuckles that followed as his gaze moved upwards. In comparison to the footwear, the coat covering Joker’s body was perfectly normal, although the black was a far cry from his usual garish style. 

When Bruce’s eyes reached Joker’s face, however, he finally realised what the clown meant by making an effort. Green chin-length hair - it must have grown since his last stay at Arkham - was curled and groomed into a style reminiscent of the old Hollywood starlets and his usual makeup had been traded for a look far more elegant and graceful. With delicate blush colouring each cheek, it resembled something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a modern fashion magazine.

Combined with the poor lighting, it left Joker resembling a macabre Marilyn Monroe and it wasn’t until the word beautiful entered Bruce's mind that he realised he’d been openly staring.

“You approve?” Joker asked, his voice soft and low as a smile curved those immaculately painted lips. Both hands were in his pockets and he crossed his ankles, striking a pose that would've made Marlene Dietrich proud.

“What do you want?” Bruce demanded, his fists still clenched as he ignored the way it'd gotten a little harder to breath.

Joker’s eyes swiveled sideways and he pursed his lips as a finger rested against his chin. “Oh just the usual. Death, destruction, chaos…and a pony!” he chuckled, before his hand returned to the coat pocket and he tilted his head coquettishly. “Oh, and you…on that chair...” He nodded to the seat behind Bruce before his grin widened. “...wearing these.”

There was a metallic rattle as Joker pulled an item from each pocket. Bruce’s body tensed again and, although it wasn’t a weapon dangling off the end of each index finger, he didn’t relax in the slightest.

His pulse started to race as he watched the handcuffs gently sway from side to side and despite the apprehension running through his veins, Bruce couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Why?”

Joker didn’t reply right away, instead letting his gaze bore into Bruce as the smile shrank a little. 

“We’ve been doing this for a while, you and me,” he finally replied, eyes falling to the ground as he made his way over to the table. The sound of sharp heels connecting with solid wood echoed throughout the room. “And it’s been fun and all, but lately I can’t help feeling that we’ve been getting stuck into something of a rut.”

 The handcuffs were placed on the table, before Joker’s eyes returned to Bruce. “At least, I thought we were,” he continued with a smirk. “Until our last little rendezvous.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, unfortunately all too aware of what he meant. Their last meeting had resulted in one of their most brutal fights yet, until…

Bruce pushed the memory away.

“Of course, you ruined it all by throwing me back into Arkham,” Joker continued. “But my spell in the loony bin did give me plenty of time to mull things over.” 

He looked down again to untie the belt cinching his waist. “You see, it’s never been a secret how I feel about you.” Purple fingers began to work on the buttons running down the centre of the coat. “I’ve made my sentiments quite clear on a number of occasions.” Joker looked up and winked. “But, working out what’s going on in that batty little brain of yours has always been a bit more challenging.”

The buttons came undone at a steady pace and Bruce watched the process with more fascination than he should. Either Joker was unaware of Bruce's scrutiny or he simply didn’t care to acknowledge it, because the clown continued talking in a maddeningly conversational, but still somehow suggestive way.

“You’ve always been the stoic type, letting your fists do the talking, so you can imagine my surprise when, during our last fight, I close my eyes, expecting another blissful right hook to the jaw, only to end up getting…” Joker paused for dramatic effect. “A smooch?”

Bruce’s eyes ducked as the memory returned and he felt his cheeks heat up. It’d been a mistake, an inexplicable spur-of-the-moment impulse that he’d refused to think about afterwards. He couldn’t escape it in his sleep, though and when news of the Joker’s latest escape reached his ears, it'd left a knot in his stomach for reasons very different to usual.

Joker took a step towards Bruce, eyes never leaving his face. 

“Now, it’s rather unfair of you to change the rules of our little game without telling me,” he chided with a giggle and an accusatory wag of his finger.

He took another step forward.

“But never let it be said that I’m not a quick learner.”

Another step.

“And if you’re going to start changing the rules…”

Joker stopped less than a foot away from Bruce, the smirk still plastered across his lips, green eyes glittering as they gazed into blue. With a quick shrug of the shoulders, the coat slipped off, landing at Joker’s feet.

“Then so am I.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped.

Whatever he’d expected to be concealed by the coat it hadn't been that and Bruce couldn’t have looked away, even if he wanted to. The Joker was stood there dressed in a purple suit jacket and green silk shirt, both open to reveal a body wrapped in a skin tight black bodice and skimpy black lace knickers. Purple stockings covered his legs, finishing mid-thigh and with the flawless makeup and hair and those damned heels, it showed a side of Joker Bruce had never even imagined was possible…and it made his stomach flip.

It was wrong. So very, very completely wrong. Everything about it was ridiculous and bizarre and wrong, very wrong and…

Bruce couldn’t look away. His pulse was hammering now and his mouth had started to go dry. The palms of his hands, still clenched at his sides, were growing hot and no matter how many times he tried to remind himself of how wrong, wrong, wrong this scenario was, his body was telling him something very different. 

“Does Batsy like what he sees?” Joker asked, his voice barely above a whisper as it escaped that infuriating, smiling mouth. There was barely any room between them now. “Methinks he does.”

Joker leaned forward and a tongue slid out, running along Bruce’s jaw and stopping at his chin. Bruce's head jerked back and his eyes widened in panic and with a step back he cleared his throat.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I already told you,” Joker replied calmly.


An arched eyebrow lifted. “Because I think you want this just as much as me but you’re too afraid to ask.”

Bruce glowered and instead of even bothering to deny it he spat out another question. “And if I refuse?”

Joker shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Nothing.”

Bruce frowned, expecting a very different answer and his voice was loaded with skepticism. “Nothing?”

“That’s right,” Joker confirmed. “You go out that door, we go our separate ways and pretend that this never happened.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed and his growl deepened. “There’s a trick, there always is.”

The smile fell from Joker’s lips and he shook his head. “Nope, not this time. No tricks, no games. Just you, me, that chair and those handcuffs. A one-time offer that I am giving to you and you alone. All you have to do is take it.”

“You’re offering me a choice?” Bruce said in disbelief. He was tempted to pinch himself, just to check he wasn’t in the middle of some wacky dream. It didn’t immediately register that he’d used the word dream instead of nightmare until much later.

“Of course,” Joker said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’d be no fun if I had to force myself on you. I know you’ll give a much better-ahem-performance if you’re enjoying yourself, too. I want our first time to be memorable for all the right reasons.”

Joker waggled his eyebrows as Bruce stared, completely dumbstruck as the full weight of the situation crashed down on him. Batman was stood in the middle of a room, with Joker wearing women’s lingerie, who wanted to handcuff him to a chair and…do what? He couldn’t even begin to figure it all out, but suspicion bred from years of experience couldn’t be easily ignored.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Bruce asked, with a voice much steadier than he’d expected it to be. “If I leave you could do anything, hurt anyone simply out of spite.”

Joker’s face took on a solemn expression and he nodded slowly. “I could,” he said before closing the space between them once again. 

Purple fingers reached out and rested lightly on Bruce's wrists, before tapping a slow path up towards his shoulders, impossibly green eyes following the movement.

“But I’d hope that, if Batman was ever going to take a leap of faith, it might be during the one time I dabble in honesty.”

Bruce didn’t even bother trying to question why he hadn’t immediately pushed the clown away, his attention taken up by the way those long fingers kept drumming gently against his arms, shoulders and chest. Could he do it? Joker was offering himself on a plate and leaving the decision entirely in Bruce’s hands - or so he said. It could still all be complete bullshit, but Bruce also knew that if Joker had any kind of leverage he’d never hesitate to use it if there was a chance things weren’t going his way.

And what if Bruce did say yes? What then? How could the Batman possibly defend the act, holding himself up as a pillar of justice and righteousness if he ended up doing God-knows-what with one of the city’s most notorious criminals? Joker could easily use this against him and, even if he didn’t, Bruce was sure that things would irreversibly change.


Would that be such a bad thing? What if there was a way to use this as an opportunity to do some good? Beating the Hell out of the clown had never managed to subdue him. If anything, it only spurred him on, so what if a new tactic was needed? To call it a novel way of fighting crime was the most ridiculous understatement of the century, but then Batman didn’t exactly do things by the book. And this was more like taking the book and throwing into a bonfire!

Of course, to throw a spanner in the works, that small, secret part of Bruce that he’d always tried to ignore, always wondering if there was anything underneath all the relentless flirting, spoke up. It told him to quit making excuses and come to a damn decision. Bruce would have told it that the decision wasn’t exactly an easy one to make, but knew it’d never listen. After all, that stupid little part of his mind was responsible for getting him into this whole mess in the first place.

Throughout Bruce’s internal monologue, Joker’s hands had started to slide up his neck, thumbs slowly running backwards and forwards across his jaw. Their noses were close enough to touch and only precious inches kept their lips apart. The closeness only served to make Bruce’s struggle that much harder.

“So,” Joker breathed, warm air brushing against Bruce’s lips. “What’ll it be? The door...or the chair?”

Bruce swallowed and closed his eyes. Stay or go. Door or chair. Go home alone or spend the night with a man looking far more...desirable than he had any right to be. The blood rushing around his body was deafening in his ears and his heart thudded wildly against his chest, but the fact that he was still stood there told him everything. 

When he opened his eyes his decision was made.

Joker watched as Bruce took slow and deliberate steps backwards before carefully sitting in the chair, his arms resting loosely on the thin armrests. 

Joker’s entire face lit up like a child witnessing Christmas for the very first time and a breathless laugh of excitement fell from his lips, before he quickly turned and grabbed the handcuffs. There was a rummage through the pockets of the coat on the floor and Bruce didn’t bother to ask what he was doing, too busy refereeing the war in his mind between the urge to run and anticipation for what was to come.

Joker returned and placed the two unknown items on the floor beside the chair before standing directly in front of Bruce. For a moment he did nothing more than stare, biting his bottom lip as hunger burned in his eyes. Then with a quick shake of his head, Joker returned to himself and secured his prey. The cuffs snapped shut around Bruce’s wrists and he knew there was no turning back now. His palms grew sweatier.

Hastily kicking off his shoes, Joker carefully straddled Bruce’s lap and placed his hands on either shoulder, using them as leverage to slowly slide himself up Bruce’s thighs until their chests almost touched. Holding the cowled face in his hands, he started gently tilting it this way and that, offering it the sort of careful examination an antiques dealer would offer a priceless piece of china. Those green eyes were practically glowing and Bruce wasn’t able to describe how it felt being the one responsible.

“Hmm,” Joker purred. “All the things I could do to you.”

Bruce swallowed the dry lump in his throat as a tongue came out to taste him a second time, continuing the path it had begun a few minutes ago. It ran slowly from his chin, travelling over Bruce’s lips and finishing at the tip of his nose.

“But where to begin?”

The question was rhetorical, but even if Bruce had been expected to answer, speech was beyond him. Joker slowly brought their lips together in a soft kiss and Bruce froze, his mind whiting out as it remembered the feel of that mouth against his. All too soon but not soon enough their lips parted and Joker leaned back, something close to genuine concern lining his features.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he cooed in a voice so warm and syrupy that Bruce struggled against the impulse to close his eyes. “You need to relax.” 

Thumbs stroked circles into Bruce's exposed skin.

“Would it help if you pretend I’m someone else for now?”

For a second Bruce considered it, he really, really did. But seeing Joker like this, doing things like the image was burnt into his mind. Bruce couldn’t have imagined the clown to be anyone else and, if entirely honest with himself, he didn’t want to. 

Because it would've been cheating. Joker had come here and set this all up but left the choice entirely in Bruce’s hands. As he said, nobody was going to be forced to do anything they didn't want to, so it was only fair that by agreeing to do this Bruce committed fully.

He shook his head.

“Alright,” Joker said, his thumbs still moving. “We’ll go slowly, then, shall we?”

Joker leaned forward again and his tongue slithered out between his teeth, the tip pressing against the spot where cowl met skin. It was gentle but to Bruce it felt like a being struck by lightning. 

His eyes closed as it began at the left cheekbone, travelling along the entire rim of the mask, sliding down the right side of Bruce’s face, slowly running beneath the chin before returning to where it had started. 

Then the tongue moved along the hollow of Bruce's cheek to land at the corner of his lips. Joker made two small circles, before the tongue retreated to be replaced with a kiss. It was no more than a peck, coming back twice, before the tongue came out yet again to trace the curve of Bruce's cupid’s bow.

Nerves on fire, his mind lost to the teasing of the man on his lap, Bruce didn’t hesitate to open his mouth when the Joker licked along his bottom lip and their mouths met in a kiss far more tender than he’d expected either of them capable of. 

It was achingly slow but quickly grew deeper as their tongues chased each other. The movement of their mouths increased and as Bruce’s tongue delved deeper he felt a soft moan climb up the Joker’s throat. On instinct his hands moved, wanting to hold the body making that sound but the cut of metal against his gloves reminded him of his submissive position.

A giggle filtered into the kiss and Joker pulled back just a little. Both men were breathing heavily and, opening his eyes, Bruce saw the clown watching him with a triumphant grin on his face. The lipstick that had been expertly applied was now a mess, starting to once again resemble its usual self and, if he’d had a mirror, Bruce would have seen his own mouth in a similar state.

“That’s more like it,” Joker said breathlessly, licking his lips.

Bruce watched that tongue like a hawk before his head darted forward and he took Joker’s mouth again. Joker gasped before immediately kissing back but, whereas the first had been slow and careful, this kiss was fuelled by need and a hunger starting to grow between them. Teeth, tongues and lips clashed and Joker’s arms tightened their grip around Bruce’s neck as his body started moving against him.

Bruce’s arms stirred again and the frustration at being unable to move made him kiss even harder, teeth nipping and lips sucking. The noises coming from Joker were getting louder and more obscene and they spurred Bruce on. If Joker wanted him to enjoy himself, well that’s exactly what he was going to do.

He could feel heat curling in his belly and when Joker pulled back again Bruce couldn’t restrain the soft growl that escaped. His bottom lip was taken by Joker’s teeth and gently tugged, before a grin that was nothing short of sinful spread across the clown’s mouth. Joker’s right arm moved from around Bruce’s neck before a purple hand slowly slid down an armoured chest to rest at the buckle of the belt. After a quick drum of fingers against the metal, the hand continued its journey, before coming to rest at his crotch.

“Darling,” Joker said, his voice low and husky. “Be an angel and tell me how this opens up.”

Bruce levelled his gaze at Joker. “If you uncuff me I could do it myself.”

Joker’s grin grew even wider and he bit his lip, before placing several quick kisses to Bruce’s mouth. “Patience, Dear,” he sing-songed.

Bruce quickly gave in and offered instructions, each word interrupted with a kiss from the clown. It seemed as though now that Joker had been given a taste he was unable to get enough and Bruce couldn’t summon it within himself to complain.

In no time at all, deft fingers were removing the plate of armour, tossing it carelessly to the floor before the gloved palm returned to the now unprotected area. Bruce’s gasp at the sudden sensation of the Joker palming him was swallowed by yet another kiss and, combined with the feel of that fucking tongue massaging his, Bruce grew hard very quickly.

“Oh,” Joker giggled. “I think Daddy’s ready to come out and play!”

To Bruce’s absolute frustration the hand moved and went to the Joker’s mouth before his teeth seized the tip of the middle finger and, with a tug, the glove was removed. It joined the armour already littering the floor.

Bare skin met Bruce’s cheek for the first time and he felt how cold Joker was. The fingers trailed along his jaw before reaching his mouth.

“My hands are a bit cold,” Joker said with a pout that would put a supermodel to shame. “Think you can warm them up for me?”

Bruce didn’t hesitate to open his mouth and let two pale fingers slide in. Joker watched as Bruce took them in almost up to the knuckle, before tightening his lips around them and starting to suck. Bruce’s tongue started stroking, paying each digit the utmost attention and it was with great satisfaction that he saw Joker’s eyelids grow heavy as his stained lips fell open. The smile was gone, replaced with need and his breathing grew heavy.

When the fingers slowly withdrew, Bruce moved his attention to the ring and pinkie fingers and Joker was almost panting by the end of it. It soon grew too much for him and he snatched his hand away, before claiming Bruce’s mouth again. The attack was met head-on until the feel of fingers diving into underwear and closing around him made Bruce falter. Joker’s palm tightened just a little, before it started to move slowly backwards and forwards in a steady, coaxing rhythm.

Bruce’s eyes were closed and he tried so very hard to focus on letting oxygen enter his lungs, but the way those fingers were moving over him as teeth grazed his chin was too much and he let his head loll forwards to rest in the crook of Joker’s neck. The heat in his belly grew, like a coil starting to tighten as his heavy breaths ghosted over the pale skin of Joker’s throat. Without thinking, his mouth closed over the soft skin, tongue wetting it before teeth started grazing.

Joker purred in approval and he started to pump faster, rocking his hips in time with his hand, making Bruce bite harder. It was becoming a vicious cycle that would have a very delicious outcome and it wasn’t far away as the breathing was interspersed with grunts and moans and Bruce really, really wished he wasn’t cuffed to the chair. His hands were itching to grab, to do something - anything - that would make the man in his lip offer the same noises being pumped out of him.

The heat grew and that coil wound tighter until Bruce wasn’t able to do anything more than simply pant into Joker’s neck. It wasn’t going to be long now and his hands gripped the edges of the armrests. Almost there, almost there…

But, just as he almost came, Joker’s hand let go and withdrew before he leaned back to study Bruce


Bruce’s protest was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Joker whispered. “Not yet, Darling, not yet.”

After another kiss, this time wet and sloppy, Joker slowly slid off of Bruce’s lap and lowered himself to his knees. Bruce’s eyes locked with green and the expression on the clown’s face was just...

Bruce knew what was about to happen and he was carefully freed from the confines of his underwear, before Joker started pumping again. When that tongue came out and started tracing patterns around his tip, Bruce let out a choked gasp but it was nothing compared to what came next.

Joker’s hand slid backwards and cupped his balls before those crimson lips took him in and Bruce’s eyes widened, as his mouth fell open. He felt the pressure increase as Joker started sucking and Bruce’s head fell back as his eyes rolled and he let out a curse.

Every single part of Bruce was on fire as that clever mouth devoured and fingers caressed him in ways he’d never imagined. The sounds leaving him were disgusting and he didn’t even care how loud they were because being sucked off by the Joker just felt far too good. If sense hadn’t left him, Bruce would have tried to argue that it shouldn’t feel this way, that he shouldn’t be enjoying this, that it was wrong and disgusting, but there was no way to deny how it felt, the man he’d fought more times than anyone else now on his knees in front of him.

The knot in his stomach tightened even more and his hands struggled against the restraints as the pressure built to unbearable levels. He wanted to…he needed to…

With a cry Bruce came as his back arched and his hands clenched into tight fists, the fingers wishing they could feel something other than the fabric of his gloves. Joker didn’t stop until he milked every last drop out of Bruce, swallowing it all with hungry gulps that should have repelled but only encouraged. Bruce’s chest heaved with every deep breath he took and his body trembled with aftershocks as Joker’s mouth carefully released him.

With a dim sort of awareness, he felt Joker climb back onto his lap before hands levered his heavy face upright again. The kiss that followed was lazy, messy and the taste of himself didn’t stop Bruce letting his tongue explore that damn mouth. Joker was purring again, his entire body seeming to hum with pleasure at the reactions he was getting.

“Oh, you,” he murmured between kisses. “Are just too-” Kiss. “-damn-” Kiss. “-delicious!”

They kept kissing and it was a long time before either came back up for air. Joker’s hands were all over Bruce, caressing his face, sliding up and down his neck, shoulders and arms, running along the symbol on his chest. He was like an addict given an infinite supply of his favourite drug and Joker let out a deep growl before finally parting their mouths and his feverish gaze raked over Bruce. He ran his fingers through his hair, dishevelling those perfect curls as his tongue twitched across his swollen lips. His breathing was erratic and Bruce briefly wondered if Joker was about to combust.

With the sudden grace of a cat, Joker leapt off and reached for one of the objects he’d placed on the floor. When he returned, Bruce looked down to see a small bottle of lube in his gloveless hand. The other purple glove was yanked off impatiently before the lid of the bottle popped open. Bruce’s throat went dry again as Joker spread the it liberally over his fingers, letting the bottle fall carelessly between them.

When Joker’s eyes finally met his Bruce was offered a cheeky grin, before the clown wiggled glistening fingers and twitched an eyebrow.

“My turn,” he said, before hooking his left arm around Bruce’s neck and tucking the other behind his own back.

Joker’s body lifted off Bruce’s lap and his back arched, before sinking back down. Bruce wondered what was happening until he saw Joker’s eyes glaze over as he chewed his bottom lip.

Oh, God, not that. Anything but that.

If being restrained a hardship before it became unbearable now. There was no way he could sit there with Joker straddling his lap and watch him finger fuck himself without being able to do a damn fucking thing about it. His cock, still soft and sensitive, twitched in response to the show being put on for him. Their foreheads were pressed together and what had started out as quick, clumsy kisses, soon became nothing more than panting into one another’s mouths.

Bruce’s arms continued to fight against the handcuffs and he was ready to break the fucking chair if necessary, not caring about the damage he would do to himself if he tried. He wanted to be free, to be able to put his hands on the man giggling and moaning in his lap.

Joker seemed unaware of Bruce’s dilemma, far too preoccupied with himself until the sounds of metal clashing against wood reached his ears. The grin that Bruce had once wanted to remove with a fist but now wanted to devour spread across Joker’s face as their eyes met.

“S-something wrong…Dear?” he asked, words catching on gasps.

“Uncuff me,” Bruce demanded with a kiss.

Joker pulled away. “And why…would I want to do-” His breath hitched, having hit a particularly sensitive spot. “-that?”

Bruce replied with a deep, guttural growl. “Because I’ll make it worth your while.”

That tone immediately froze Joker and his eyes quickly gained focus, travelling all over Bruce’s face. It was Joker’s turn for his throat to go dry and Bruce saw something radiate from deep inside those eyes. But he didn’t move.

“Please,” Bruce said and Joker seemed to unravel at the sight of Batman practically begging.

Eyes wide, Joker nodded and lifted himself, pulling his fingers out, before leaning over to where the other item waited patiently on the floor. Bruce really hoped it was the key.

Still straddling Bruce’s lap and impatiently pushing hair away from his eyes, Joker unlocked the cuffs and the second both his arms were free, Bruce lunged, one arm wrapping around Joker’s waist as he sent the pair of them to the floor.

The landing was semi-broken by Bruce’s free hand but it didn’t stop a rush of air leaving Joker’s lungs as his back slammed against the floorboards. But Bruce was beyond caring as he immediately hooked his fingers around the waistband of those ridiculous lace panties and tore them off.

After lining himself up, Bruce thrust into Joker and the clown’s back arched, his hands gripping Bruce’s arms as he cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The room was filled with the gasps, cries and grunts of them both as Bruce relentlessly pushed into Joker, one hand gripping the green hair and yanking hard to expose that long, white throat.

He bit down into it and Joker’s spine curved even more, his legs wrapping tightly around Bruce to find that perfect angle that’d make Bruce push in even deeper. When a hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking, Joker almost screamed before bringing his hand up to bite.

Releasing the hair, Bruce pushed Joker’s hand out of the way and brought their mouths together again, swallowing every one of his cries and as Bruce felt that heat building up inside him once again, he sped up, the thrusts becoming harder as he raced towards that climax.

Joker was clinging to him desperately and with a strangled shout he finally came, body convulsing around the cock inside him. Bruce wasn’t far behind, his cries muffled by Joker’s neck as his second orgasm made him shake before his body collapsed on top of him.

For a few long moments the pair didn’t move. Their hearts were racing, their chests heaving and their bodies trembled. When he was certain he wasn’t about to have a heart attack, Bruce mustered the last of his strength and rolled onto his back.

It was a while before either of them were able to breathe normally again and, for a few minutes, silence hung in the air. It wasn’t awkward but it wasn’t comfortable, either and it left Bruce wondering what would happen next.

Then the sound of laughter met his ears. It wasn’t the maniacal noise that usually came from Joker but a far more genuine sound and Bruce soon found himself laughing too. It wasn’t long before the pair was in fits of giggles and Joker rolled onto his side, arms wrapping around his middle as he struggled to speak through the laughter.

“That…has to be…the most ridiculous thing…we’ve ever done!”

Bruce didn’t bother to reply because he was too busy laughing.

Eventually, the laughter subsided and the pair started to make themselves presentable again. For Bruce it was easy. All he had to do was reattach a plate of armour. Joker required a bit more effort but it wasn’t long before he was once again wrapped in the confines of a black coat, although his hair and makeup were a far cry from the polished perfection of before.

Bruce took a moment to watch Joker drop one of the handcuffs back into his pocket and it startled him to realise he preferred the madman in this state, all messy and a bit unsteady, knowing he was the one responsible.

With shoes in one hand and the second pair of handcuffs in the other, Joker sauntered over to Bruce and placed the metal rings into his hand. Bruce frowned but it was met with a smile.

“A memento,” Joker chuckled before sliding his free hand to the back of Bruce’s neck and pulling him in for a final kiss. It was deep and slow and Bruce didn’t even consider resisting, simply wrapping his arms around Joker’s waist and letting his lips move.

With a nibble of Bruce’s bottom lip, Joker eventually pulled away and headed for the door. Opening it, he looked over his shoulder at Bruce.

“Until next time,” he winked, before leaving and letting the door shut behind him.

It wasn’t until leaving the house that Bruce wondered whether it’s been Joker responsible the other tip-offs regarding the gang and he made a mental note to ask the next time he faced the clown. 

Which he wasn't looking forward to.

At all.