Bruce grunted as he settled the Joker into the Batmobile, the man limp. He’d been unconscious for a few minutes now, his hands cuffed together behind his back. Despite his lithe frame, he always felt heavier, when he tumbled onto Bruce and pinned him down, yes, but now? It was as if he was made of stone.
“He’s in the car,” Bruce said, getting in himself. He heard A breath over the com, and then Dick’s voice,
“Just call him in and leave him for the cops.”
“You know that won’t work.” Bruce gripped the steering wheel, speeding off into the dark streets of Gotham past midnight. “You know him. I’ll deliver him to Arkham myself. Hold the city down.”
“Not a problem there. Just don’t detour. Last thing we need is Jay knowing you have the clown.” There was rustling, and then, “Going for a bit, got something to follow up on. Keep me posted?”
The line went silent and Bruce enjoyed the sounds of nothing around him, except the Joker’s shallow breaths. Arkham was across the city, it would be a longer drive then he’d like, having the clown so close to him. At least the handcuffs would detour him slightly if he came to. Bruce hoped he wouldn’t.
Barely minutes later though, the shifting in the seat told him his hopes were crushed.
There was a groan as the Joker’s eye fluttered open, too green eyes gazing past heavy blond lashes. He registered that he was moving, that he wasn’t in a comfortable position- took a moment to realize it was because his arms were tugged behind him, his wrists cuffed together. His forehead was resting on something cool, smooth and solid- and he lolled back, trying to gaze above him to get his bearings.
It was all dark, flashing little buttons and switches, and then the sounds of tires on pavement. Ah, and there it was, those memories flooding back to him, that Bat’s strong gloved hands pounding into his body, his head smacking back against the pavement and then sweet, sweet velvet black.
“Mmm, woulda dressed up nicer for ya if I knew you’d be picking me up in style, dollface,” he murmured, shifting around, twisting his body so he was leaning on his side, facing the Bat. “Tell me, where are we going? Dinner? A movie? A sweet moonlight walk along the Gotham skyline?”
“You’re going to Arkham,” Bruce growled, not looking at the man, “Where you belong.”
“Aw, you are no fun Batsy. I don’t turn into a pumpkin if you keep me out past curfew. C’mon darlin’.” He leaned closer, into Bruce’s space, resting his head on his shoulder. “Have a little fun for once in your life.”
Bruce tried to jerk away, but the movement jostled the wheel. He growled, slamming on the brake, causing the Joker to jerk forward, before throwing the Batmobile in park and turning to grab him, thinking he’d have to secure him down if he was going to finish this drive-
The moment he turned though, the Joker was there, pressing his mouth to Bruce’s in a quick attempted kiss. He managed most of Bruce’s mouth, holding it for a second before Bruce was shoving him back, lipstick smearing along his lips, onto his cheek. The Joker giggled at the way he gritted his teeth.
“Aw c’mon sugar. Take me for a test drive before you return me at least.” He shifted closer, nudged up Bruce’s chin and kissed at the small expense of skin there, before his suit took over. “I bet you’ll just, ah, adore me.”
Bruce was ready to past his head into the door and knock him out again- but that small kiss under his chin felt good, as did the next, as the Joker traced up his jawline. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had had the man’s lips on him, wasn’t the first time it had felt good- but each other time, they had been in the open, there hadn’t been solid walls to surround them, hide them from the city. Or the family had been there, one or more of them, and that was enough to keep Bruce in check.
But in this moment? He was finding it hard to reach up, grip at the man’s shoulders. Hard, especially when the man’s mouth touched the corner of his. Bruce turned to him, reaching for his shoulders, but didn’t push him away- only gripped them tightly as the Joker’s painted mouth over took his again. A moment of the sweet slide of his lips, and Bruce was responding, kissing him back, opening his mouth when the Joker’s tongue traced the seam of his mouth, letting his own tongue be stroked, the points of his teeth tested.
There was a small groan, and Bruce realized it was from him, could feel the Joker smiling into his mouth. He pushed him then, broke the kiss and stared with his dark, blue-black eyes into those acidic gashes, the breaks between his blond lashes, watched that grin grow utterly wicked.
“No family here to reason with you,” the Joker whispered, “A pretty little car with four walls and locks. Sounds like the best chance we’re gonna get Bats. And you know you want it.” His voice dropped its sing song melody, grow deep, the thing of almost-nightmares that masqueraded as wet dreams, where you were stuck on the borderline of arousal and terror.
Bruce reached for him, gloved hands grabbing his waist, pulling him from his seat, helping to guide him onto his lap. The Joker gave a little startled sound, fumbling because he hadn’t completely believed he could convince the man- but he would be damned before he didn’t try. But moments later he was straddling Bruce’s lap, the man’s hands on his hips, fingers curling back towards his ass. The Joker leaned in, found Bruce’s mouth again before he could say a word, sucking on the man’s tongue when it pushed past his painted lips.
He rocked his hips, pushing against his Bat, sure the man couldn’t feel too much through that suit but not caring. The action was enough, and his Bat’s imagination seemed to run wild, those hands moving fully back to grab his ass with bruising force, fingers digging into flesh through his pants. He shuddered, teeth grazing Bruce’s tongue, his wrists flexing against the cuffs.
“Wanna lemme give you a hand?” he whispered, as Bruce’s hands snaked up along his back, his sides, forward to his chest. Bruce didn’t respond, couldn’t, couldn’t believe how easy it was to touch him, how the repulsion he fed himself, the lie he had worked into his subconscious, was utterly gone here. With no eyes to judge him, he was having problems judging himself.
“They stay on,” Bruce breathed, even as his hands reached to the Joker’s fly, working open the button, pulling down the zipper. The clown watched, entranced, stray green curls falling into his eyes, along the scars of his cheeks. He gave a little sound from the back of his throat as Bruce grasped all his clothing by the waistband, forcing it down past his hips, to the juncture of his thighs. His cock sprung free then, hard and flushed, and Bruce curled his fingers tighter in the man’s clothing.
He shouldn’t be so aroused knowing the damn clown was aroused.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the Joker whispered, eyeing Bruce’s hands. “Gloves off dollface. I’m not interested in scars everywhere.” Bruce glanced up at them, then pulled his gauntlets off, tossing them aside and resting his bare hands on the clown’s hips. Without thinking, one thumb traced over the ridge of a scar he found, and the Joker shivered. “Mmm, admiring your work? You know, I’ve got lots of kisses from you, darlin’. Wanna see ‘em?”
Bruce did, he realized. Wanted to see every scar, every mar he had inflicted on this man’s pale skin. Wanted to know just how thoroughly he seemed to own his body.
But this wasn’t the place. And Bruce knew it would take too long.
“We don’t have time for that,” Bruce muttered, and the Joker rolled his eyes, shifting his hips, his cock still left entirely untouched.
“Well then, what ah, are we doin’, cupcake? Tell me we at least have time for a quicky- because, as you can see, you have me complete attention.” Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat, let his fingers trace from one hip to the Joker’s belly, down along the dusting of blond hair he found there, finally to the base of his cock, which he gripped gently. The Joker gave a little sigh, eyelids growing heavier, and rocked gently as Bruce stroked him, once, twice, before the clown gave a shiver. He licked his lips, eyes darting to one side. “If you, ah, wanna dig around in my pocket, you might find something useful, pretty boy.”
Bruce let his other hand pull from the man’s hip, stroking him slowly as he dug into the scrunched pocket of his pants. At first his hand closed around the handle of a switch blade, which he pulled out and tossed away, the Joker giving a breathy giggle that was far hotter then it had any right being, before he dug in again, fingers closing around a little bottle. He pulled it out, eyed it, then glanced at the Joker, his hand stilling.
“Always be prepared,” the Joker said, grinning. “You think I’d risk missing any chance to get in your suit? Hmmm?” He licked his lips, shifting a little. “Now c’mon batboy. You’re the one that said we were pressed for time. I’ve got all night. But then again, I don’t have a hoard of brats that need my attention, either.”
Bruce grimaced at the mention of the family. If they had even an idea of what he was doing-
“C’mon Bats, back to me darlin’. Gonna help me with these,” he whispered, glancing at his pants, still bunched around his thighs, “or am I going to have to play Houdini to get out of them? Or you could just give me my hands back-“
“Shut. Up.” Bruce was growling, grabbing the hands pants, tugging them lower. It was awkward to try and get them low enough, to get them past his knees, with the clown trying to remain in his lap, his hands useless. Bruce ended up with his face pressed against the man’s belly as he finally got them to his ankles, the Joker’s cock rubbing against his suit. The clown hissed, as sensitive flesh met a hard edge, but didn’t pull away, only rocked against Bruce. Willing to take any friction he got.
Bruce leaned back, shuffling the bottle in his hand, popping it open. As the lube spilled out over his fingers, he had a moment of realizing just how obscenely insane this was, but it seemed pointless to try and go back now. Not when the Joker was nearly half naked in his lap, not when there was the prospect of being buried so deep inside that body that neither could breathe.
Perhaps Bruce had been repressing this a bit too much.
He slipped his slick fingers below the man’s cock, between his thighs, pushing up against his entrance. The Joker gave a little sigh, lips quirking slightly as Bruce sunk a single finger into him. That half smile turned into a smirk as the Joker raise one eyebrow.
“I’m not a flower, Batsy,” he murmured, “Handle me like you might on the streets.” Bruce felt his belly clench up at that, and sunk a second finger in, thrusting them quickly, watching the Joker groan, his tipping back. “That’sssss more like it.” Bruce watched the way his lips moved with his breaths, each little sound- couldn’t handle focusing on the fact that he was so hot around his fingers. Within his suit, his own cock was achingly hard, harder then he had been in any recent memory.
Bruce added a third finger, curling them, and the Joker gave a cry, jerking his hips. He was oddly relaxed around him otherwise, and Bruce wondered how often he did this to himself. How often the clown fucked himself with slick fingers and wished it was him.
Those were thoughts he definitely didn’t need to have.
The Joker licked his lips, glancing down, his shoulders rolling slightly. “Ya know Bats, if I had my hands, I might make this fun for both of us.” His sentence ended in a moan as Bruce hit that spot inside him again.
“Still not happening,” he whispered, voice deeper then he meant, hoarse. The Joker tsked, before,
“I guess you’ll just have to let me watch you touch yourself then, sugar.” Bruce glanced up at him, his free hand moving down between his own legs, fighting with various pieces of the suit. This was harder then he expected, single handed, but he had no desire to pull his fingers from the Joker’s body yet, not with each little sound the clown made with Bruce’s rhythmless thrusts, with those oddly expert curls of his fingers. When he managed to disconnect the right plates and reach into his suit, wrapping a bare hand around his cock and stroking once before he even pulled himself free, he groaned, and the Joker’s lips tugged into a smile. “C’mon dollface. Lemme see you.”
Bruce pulled his cock out, stroking more freely, tipping his head back. His fingers had slowed their movements, distracted by his own pleasure, but the Joker didn’t seem to mind, choosing instead of complaining to watch Bruce stroke himself, the way he squeezed right beneath the head of his cock. He licked his lips.
“Sometime, sugar, we’re gonna need more time,” he breathed, “The things I’d like to do to you.” Bruce shuddered, groaning when the Joker clenched his muscles around his fingers. “Now,” he breathed, “I think it’s about time you, ah, fucked me senseless.”
Bruce swallowed, pulled his fingers from the man’s body and grabbed at the lube again, pouring some onto his palm and stroking it along his cock. Once he was done he tossed the bottle aside, holding the base of his cock as the Joker shifted, rising up above him, leaning down just enough for the head of his cock to press against his hole. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, his lipstick already smeared off his mouth, the action only making it worse, and Bruce wanted to be sucking on his lip, wanted the slick slide of that painted mouth.
The Joker eased down, after a moment, until he was settled perfectly in Bruce’s lap, his cock buried completely inside him. Bruce groaned, hands twitching, moving up along the clown’s bare thighs, his breath rushing out over that confined heat that engulfed him. The Joker smiled through his groan, leaning in so close that when he spoke Bruce could feel his breaths.
“Now, darlin’, show me what you’re made of.”
Bruce squeezed his thighs, helping him rise before thrusting up into him, watching as his mouth opened, his head tilting back, the Joker giving a happy moan. He pushed down, taking Bruce all the way inside him, to the point that Bruce had to groan, had to lean in, press his mouth to the clown’s bared neck, sucking on his pulse.
He shouldn’t have been able to set a rhythm with him, Bruce wanted to believe. Shouldn’t have been able to find a way for them both to feel so good in the confines of the car, with the Joker’s hands useless, with his legs barely able to spread more then they were now due to his pants. But somehow his body was perfect, had Bruce gasping with each thrust. And the Joker- if his loud moans were any sign of it, he seemed to be on a level of bliss akin to Bruce’s-
His cock, neglected between them, was definitely evidence of that. Bruce thought to touch him, to let go of his bruising hold on his thighs, when his thoughts were broken with-
“You get him to Arkham yet?” Dick sounded slightly breathy, speaking over their com link, and Bruce groaned, couldn’t believe his timing. The Joker had lifted his head, eyeing Bruce as he spoke,
“Not...not now.” Intrigued, he cocked his head, sucking in a breath.
“Seriously? Everything alright? He giving you trouble?” Bruce bit his lip for a second, then.
“No-trouble, Nightwing.” The Joker giggled then, his messy mouth turning to a grin.
“What timing your boy has,” he whispered, clenching around Bruce, who groaned, loud.
“What’s going on?” The Joker leaned forward, pressed his mouth to Bruce’s jawline, sucking in a breath against his skin.
“Nothing,” Bruce forced out through gritted teeth, pushing into the Joker’s body in a way that had the clown whining. “I’ll have-him delivered...soon.” There was a moment of silence, then,
“...Alright. Just. Call if you need me?” Bruce didn’t answer, happy when his head was finally cleared of Dick’s voice, and the Joker leaned back, laughing openly.
“Maybe we should have invited him,” he cooed, shifting. “Might be, ah,” his speech broke as Bruce slid along his prostate, a jolt of pleasure running through the Joker’s nerves, “fun,” he finished, before tugging on his handcuffs again. Bruce squeezed his thighs, choosing to tip his head back, not to look at the clown with his blown pupils and smeared lipstick, that obscene sort of beauty that was burned into his retinas now.
He’d never unsee it. And he would cherish every debouched image he had stored in memory now.
“If you’re not gonna uncuff me, Bats, you could at least give me a hand.” The Joker pushed his hips forward, his cock aching, needing to be touched, his body wanting release but not quite there. Bruce glanced at him, before lifting his head, one hand leaving the man’s thigh to wrap around his cock, stroking up along his shaft, to finally swipe his thumb along his head, teasing his slit and dragging pre-cum all the way down to the base of his cock.
The Joker shuddered, his movements suddenly changing, seeming more focused. Each rise of his hips positioned him perfectly along Bruce’s cock, had him crying out. His cock pulsed, Bruce felt his body clench him once, realized he was close, and suddenly wanted him to come undone, wanted to watch him utterly undilute before his eyes.
He squeezed his cock, got a gasp from that painted mouth, and smiled despite the way his own spine was tingling, the base heavy, his body crawling towards his own release. “You ready to cum yet?” he whispered, didn’t recognize his own voice, the husk to it, the rasp. The words and desire. The Joker shuddered, rolling his head on his neck and staring up at the roof of the car.
“If you, ah, want me to, dollface.” He moaned again, Bats sliding off his tongue like water. Bruce swallowed, stroking him faster, worried his own rhythm was faltering as he tried to drive in deeper, harder, about to lose himself too.
“Oh, I-“ Bruce broke off as he groaned, squeezed the Joker’s cock again and watched his body jerk, “I want you to.” His whisper was heavy, and the Joker choked on a cry, hips jerking as his orgasm hit him suddenly, body clenching around Bruce. Bruce shook, thrust up into him quickly, once, twice more and gave in himself, emptying into the clown’s body with a guttural groan.
The Joker slumped down, keeping Bruce inside him as his head hung, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of their breaths. Bruce pulled his slick hand away from the Joker’s cock, thinking for a moment the man might fall into a silence peace-
And then the giggling started. Soft at first, until Bruce saw his curls shaking, his shoulder shuddering as it grew louder, until the Joker was openly cackling, looking up with a sick sort of grin and those goddamn eyes.
“Always knew ya had in ya, Batssss,” he hissed, feeling some of Bruce’s cum rolling down his thigh, past the other man’s softening cock. “Shame it took so long to see it come out.” He leaned forward, let his forehead rest against Bruce’s shoulder. “So what are the odds you’ll take me home to your little cave, and tell your brats I’m their new step-mommy?”
Bruce reached one arm up, wrapping it around the Joker’s waist, trying to catch his own breath still.
“Not a chance in hell,” he whispered, and realized he was smiling, that it was funny to him. He was sure he’d lost his mind. “You’re going right to Arkham, where you belong.”
The Joker pouted, turning to rub against the crook of Bruce’s neck. “Shame,” he whispered, “You’d better visit then, dollface. Or at least call me in the morning.”
Bruce didn’t say anything, closing his eyes for a moment to try and realign his vision, his thoughts, as the clown continued to nuzzle into him, an odd sort of affection that left his post-orgasmic high at a strong buzz, a warmth in his belly, his fingertips.
He’d never be able to explain managing to get the Joker’s clothing back up his legs properly, getting himself tucked away and the clown back into his seat. He put up no fight- not at all what Bruce expected from him. He was shockingly quiet as he shifted back into his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as Bruce fixed his own suit, wiping his face on the back of his hand, smearing the lipstick further. He growled, working to rub it from his face, before putting his gauntlets back on and finally driving back along the dark streets.
Dick must have put a call into Arkham, because they had staff waiting as Bruce pulled up. He got out of the Batmobile, reaching in to help the Joker out almost gently, watching as the clown stood on his long legs and looked at the staff waiting for him.
“Remember,” he whispered, as Bruce guided him towards them, “you’ve gotta call me in the morning. Bat morning works, if you really can’t stand the sunlight.” He grinned, the scars on his lips slightly more visible now that his lipstick was so smeared and faded.
Bruce didn’t say anything, simply handed him over to the staff who were quick to restrain him themselves. Once he was secure, Bruce finally worked at his cuffs, freeing them. The Joker didn’t turn to him, only said,
“It’s been fun, Bats,” before the staff quickly guided him towards the building. Bruce watched as the doors closed, then turned-
Suddenly face to face with Dick, who was only a few steps behind him, watching.
“Fun?” he asked, even as Bruce pushed past him, walking towards the car. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. “What’d he mean?”
“Whatever he always means,” Bruce said, getting in. Uninvited, Dick climbed in as well, settling into the seat and leaning back.
“That took you a long time. Did he slip the cuffs?” Bruce didn’t say anything, and Dick watched him from the corner of his eyes, saw smudges of faint red on his cowl. “Was he all over you again? That freak really will do anything to try and unnerve you.”
“Unnerve,” Bruce whispered, adding, “Yeah. Well. You know him.” Dick quirked up an eyebrow, feeling as if Bruce was acting strange. Well, stranger then usual after dealing with the Joker-
Which was pretty fucking strange.
He shifted, feeling something small bump against his boot. He reached down, grabbing the little bottle, tilting it in the light to examine it-
Before Dick felt a burning flush creeping up his cheeks. He turned to openly stare at Bruce, holding it up between two fingers and giving it a little shake. “Uh. Please tell me someone broke into the Batmobile. Please.”
Bruce glanced at him, saw the bottle, and felt the color drain from his cheeks. Dick saw him go pale, saw his dark eyes avert back to the road, and suddenly was tossing the bottle away, wiping his hand on his thigh, shaking it even. “Oh god,” he muttered, “I don’t want to know, I do not want to know.”
Bruce gripped the steering wheel, wishing against all hell that Dick meant he didn’t want to know. Bruce knew, within about a block or two, the questions would start, and he dreaded whatever they might be. He just hoped Dick would get them out of his system because the reached the cave, met up with the rest of the family.
He hoped Dick would keep his mouth shut.
“Jason is going to fucking blow,” Dick was whispering, raking a hand back through his hair. “Oh god he is going to fucking kill everyone when he finds out.”
Not an if, but a when. Bruce gritted his teeth.
“Dick,” he growled, “shut the hell up. Keep your mouth shut about whatever you think happened. It didn’t.” Dick glanced at him, shaking his head.
“It. Didn’t. Happen.” The former Robin swallowed, finally nodding- quite obviously not believing Bruce, but needing to cling to that fake truth, perhaps for his own sanity. For the moment thought, Bruce thought he might keep it to himself, if only to try and make more sense of it. It might buy him the night to come up with a valid reason as to why the damn bottle was there, as to why it had taken him so long to get the Joker to Arkham-
Oh, he’d be up all night fabricating this story, he was sure. Silently, tightening his hold on the steering wheel, he cursed the clown and his pretty mouth and the fact that he could make Bruce so reckless
And, even more, he cursed that he was considering taking him up on a little visit come the bat morning.