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Harry had insisted on walking you home. "You won't want to go home alone after everything that has happened in the city lately... Gotham isn't a safe place" he had repeated for the umpteenth time, offering you a coffee you didn't ask for and sitting in the desk next to yours, even if that wasn't his office. Harry had become... persistent. «Perhaps the best solution is to be condescending, just once and to make the situation between us clear» you thought so, unexpectedly, you accepted his invitation.
Harry had tried to invite you to dinner even before the chaos wreaked on the city. Before the Joker reached his hands around Gotham's neck and strangled the city and all its citizens, before he held the fate of them all in his fingers. Your life had been so dramatically monotonous and monochromatic: study, grow up, find a decent job, survive in the hope of making a life equal to that of ten thousands other people. Gotham was supposed to be your breath of fresh air, a new beginning, and somehow that strange city had given you something special: an encounter you would never forget...
Now Harry walks beside you, spreads his elbow as he opens his umbrella and offers you protection from the light rain that wets Gotham's rooftops and your hair, scattered in the evening air. His hollow smile and his numb eyes are just an unwanted glance at you. «God... That wasn't a good idea.» Harry grabs you before you can say no, his hand gripping your forearm as he pushes against you. "It's pretty cold, isn't it? Come here" he still insists. That guy has nothing to do with the man you met a few weeks ago.
Joker. Yes, that Joker, still on the run for the umpteenth time. It was impossible to cage that man, he created his own freedom. So when you were standing in front of him, while he was running away from the police right in the alley in front of your house, and he had suddenly slipped in a trail of oily dirt on the floor, and your arms had grabbed him before he could fall, maybe you shouldn't had been so surprised by your reaction. His eyes were dark, deep as the universe and they were crazy, wild and... frightened. At that moment he was only a man and you could have been his salvation, or his condemnation. For a reason still unknown to you, you had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against the wall; the police car sped past you as you pressed your mouth to his. Your lips had parted of their own free will, your tongues had begun to roll over each other in an intricate tangle, your breath had stopped in your throat and his hands had gripped your hips with a passion you thought to have forgotten. You hadn't spoken to each other: the moment the police had run out of the way, far away enough for you to stop hearing the sirens, he had grinned and... fled. All you had left of him was just a playing card in your jacket pocket. Now, weeks later, you are returning home on a rainy day, accompanied by the morbid Harry and you cling to the ghost of that kiss that still survives on your mouth, that memory that inflames you, every night. Somehow Joker belongs to you, and to you alone, even if just a little.
"Do you live here?" Harry asks, looking up at the facade of the building. You haven't noticed that you've already arrived, but it's a relief.
"Yeah... yes it's late. I have to... I mean, thank you, Harry. See you tomorrow."
But Harry advances. "What? I accompanied you up to here and you don't ask me to come in? Come on, I've been nothing but kind to you." His hand still tightens around your forearm, a little tighter than it should.
"Leave me, Harry." Your voice wouldn't scare a sparrow. He pushes you against the wall.
There is suddenly another man in front of you. One that scares you now, but in a different way.
"I'm disappointed, bunny" he comments. His voice is deep and cold, different from that of television. There is no light in his eyes anymore. "I thought there was something special between us, but - but maybe I'm wrong, hm? Maybe it was a misunderstanding, hmm?" His hand rises against your neck, the same blade that cut poor Harry somewhere is now against your bare skin. The blood boils in your veins and your heart beats like a drum, your breath is short and rhythmic and even if you're afraid - god you're afraid - it's such a relief to meet him again.
"I couldn't get rid of him" you whisper. Your voice trembles, but it's not just terror. Your pupils dilate when the Joker comes to light, showing his crimson smile. His eyes narrow in an expression of disapproval, searching and merciless.
"Oh! I see, you couldn't get rid of him and so you brought him to your house... Unfortunately I'm afraid that - hey, look at me - LOOK AT ME! - I'm afraid that dear Harry won't be able to come in for a cup of tea. Now open this fucking door." His purple leather glove tightens around your neck, while the tip of the knife is on your back and you can feel the cold blade against your jacket. A small part of you, distant and irrational, knows the truth: he won't hurt you, not today.
As the key turns in the lock, he pushes you inside. He laughs, his hips are pressed against you from behind as his hand continues to threaten your untouched skin: it's an unknown thrill, one you've never experienced, one you want to sink into with all of yourself. When he orders you to undress you obey impatiently and he chuckles.
"Here we are, finally the frightened kitten turns into a panther. Let's see if it's worth giving you another chance, bunny."
Your jacket falls to the floor, followed by the sweater, and his knife slides across the sensitive, bare skin of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he watches your every single reaction. Finally, you are face to face again: he is right there, concrete and real in front of you, his gloved and cold hand still gripping your neck. You can't take your eyes off his scarred lips: the red paint has turned them into a work of art. You wonder if you're his next canvas, if you too will be one of his masterpieces. Fear generates a pleasant shiver down your spine, a faint moan leaves your lips and you feel like you're breathing again; you don't notice he is pushing you until your back meets the wall.
"And that I thought I was the only one... you hurt my feelings, bunny. Do you have anything to say about it?" His hand tightens around your cheeks, his thumb slides over your lips to rub them and it takes all your concentration not to close your mouth around it and suck. You wanna do it, god how much would you do it.
Your voice betrays you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
He smiles with satisfaction. "Oh you will be, honey, you'll be sorry! You're such a greedy, little whore, aren't you? But I'll change your mind, bunny, this cock will be the only one you'll know. That fucking mouth is mine" he growls at you, the his knife cuts your shirt and the buttons fall to the floor. "This fucking body is mine, you are mine! Do ya understand, hm? Say it. SAY IT!"
"I'm yours! I swear to you, I'm yours!"
A tear runs down your cheek, but it doesn't have time to reach your mouth because he catches it with the tip of his tongue. And that is the key that opens every single door in your mind and frees you of any slightest uncertainty. Your mouth opens for him and your hands slip through his unkempt hair, you push him until his body crashes against yours and takes all your breath away and your lips melt, your tongues seek each other again and none of you have to be afraid of the police, or escapes, or prying eyes because it's just the two of you. Your moans fill the air, along with the scent of him: he smells of gunpowder and gasoline, he smells like the fire that burns Gotham every day. He's chaos and madness, he is everywhere: his teeth scratch your lips, your skin, while his mouth slides down your neck and leaves an indelible red trace of his possessiveness on your body. Yes, it's nice to know you belong to someone, even if he's a madman, a savage, an outlaw. He sucks on you: his tongue caresses the purple bites on your neck and the sensation is painful and delicious at the same time.
"Um" he growls, satisfied "that's better. Show me what you can do with that mouth." Joker grabs your hair, ignores the groan of pain that leaves your throat and pushes you until you kneel in front of him: now you're trapped between him and the wall, you have no choice. But it feels good. The hand that holds your hair is the same one that holds his knife, the other sharply grabs the hem of his pants and begins to unbutton them in front of your surprised eyes. When his cock is released from his underwear and stands in front of you, long and thick, wet on the tip, hard and sore, you start salivating. It's perfect, and all you want, everything you want is that man in your mouth, to hear him moan because of you, reduce him to a chaos of moans and pleasure. So you open your mouth, stick out your tongue and greedily lick him before he can tell you anything else.
"Look at you! That's a good pet! I could almost forgive you, what do you say?" Joker laughs, his hand slaps your cheek, once, two, three, five times! The pain is mild, the pleasure is immense.
"Yeah, open the fuck up, take it all. Such a pathetic whore, yeah - use your tongue, honey - fuck" he keeps swearing, his voice seems to caress you everywhere and it's so hard to resist your instincts when the head of his cock is deep in your throat, his pre-cum is still on your tongue and it's sweet, warm, delicious. Your hand caresses your sex, between your legs, and when the Joker growls again you can hear the vibration of his voice right there. You need more: Joker breathes deeply, his hand squeezed your hair even tighter, pushes your head until your lips brush the hair on his groin and your eyes fill with tears. With the other hand he leans against the wall and you raise your eyes to see him - and that's such an erotic sight.
"That's it, that's how my bunny sucks my dick - fuck, take it more - I'll cum on that pretty face and then we'll see if pathetic Harry still wants to get close to you. Ah, right - suck it, honey - he's dead." Joker doesn't stop you from touching yourself, his watchful eyes watch you as your hand slips into your own underwear. "If I were you I wouldn't dare to come, bunny - bad puppies aren't allowed to cum" he orders, his voice is deep and mean, and you want to obey, but his nastiness is so awfully sexy. You rub on your hand over and over as he fucks your mouth mercilessly until his legs tremble for a moment, he leans forward and his forehead rest against the wall. He moans, loudly. His cock throbs in your mouth, your throat fills with his warm seed and it's bittersweet on your tongue. And when he cums, you can't hold back your orgasm, you whine around his cock and swallow it all to the last drop.
He laughs. His hand leaves your hair and the blade of his knife slides down your chin as he dresses and fastens his pants again. Your face is a mess, a perfect chaos. He knew from the start that you were special. He might take you with him, he might want to see you again. Maybe after all that, he may never get tired of you. "You were good, puppy" he comments and listen to your deep breaths. "I might as well keep you."