Rating: Overall NC-17, this chapter Warning: PORN, PORN SO MUCH PORN. D:
Disclaimer: If you elect me as owner of these two, I promise to include gay sex in every appearance of theirs. What do you say? NO? :O Well screw you then. (Apparently my campaigning isn't going well, so no, I don't own this. DC does.)

The soothing torment of the velvet, aphotic night blanketed Bruce in its icy heat as he shuffled out of his inviolable box and into the sting of reality and the rotting carcass of verity. A hood, a flimsy, cloth hood, was all that shielded him from the mephitic, fetid sewage of his city, having already snaked out of his caged form. He took the cold comfort of his cowl for granted and it was times like this as Bruce stalked through the fermenting side streets and the churning tombs of alleys, capeless and unprotected, that the fact bellowed in his head, a torturous echo. The same hissing voice that hammered in all his mistakes, all his freshly decomposing ideals, every last fractured and bent rule he had promised to no-one. And it was even more pronounced at this moment, free of his costume, free of his role. Nothing distracting him from the clawing thoughts relaying themselves in their hunger to be heard and recognised by the deaf man. And it kept projecting the image of fulgurating emerald eyes cutting into his insides with lethal authority, penetrating every cell he owned, sending ripples and uncontrollable spasms into his core. The meaning and sense conveyed in those murky, ruminating orbs, the severe knowledge they possessed boiled him internally, eroding his grey matter with calculated bluntness.

It had been stalking him systematically in allotted time slots of hurtling hours for weeks that had been melting into each other for an immeasurable amount of time. And it had been building and spreading through him with bacillus determination, pestilence in his veins until the murderous crescendo forced him out of the door to meet with the diablerie cursing him. He did not have the privilege of knowing what his intentions were, why he was doing this and what it stood to achieve, but as much as he protested against the convulsing needs, he still found himself putting one foot in front of the other at a rushed pace, stalking to his destination.

The peccant air was balmy and freezing at the same time, the unsavoury paradox foreign to the sane, but was a close relative to the delusions that enjoyed patting Bruce's back whenever something was about to happen. Superstition was bile on Bruce's palate but the blushing, impatient skies coiling with the ashen remains of human bonfires, enlightened with the reflexivity of something preordained and coming together with remarkable wantonness time after time sat too heavy in Bruce's stomach for him to ignore. An omen, an inkling, a sign. Call it what you want but as all the elements sniped at him, as his senses boiled and his heart combusted in on itself, he knew something vicious and rewarding was going to happen that night. He'd been turning his head away from the merciful hints and clues all night long, but the magnetism in the coercive whip of the winds drew him forward and it all became heartwrenchingly impossible to deny. Repetitive grasshopper voices carnally giggled at him, and he was aware of their message as it looped numbly inside his blemished skull. The faint, distant scratching of the future at his timid, fabricated walls, wearing away at him like a parasite until he agreed to be sucked into the pit. And he felt queasy, his sculptured face bleaching yellow at the pounding knowledge he was going to fucking dive into it of his own happy accord. He wanted nothing more than to sing the lullaby of sugared outrage and accusation. Wanted the comfort of his future self becoming cocooned in the cotton wool of easy substance abuse, wished for the silken excuse of blackmail or self sacrifice in the marble name of Lady Justice. But as it stood, there wasn't a single external validation he could excrete from his gnawing mind. This was all him.

He hadput away the batsuit and left the shelter of his home, exposed and vulnerable in a war zone. He was hiking halfway across a incurable city to an area he only had a faint idea of. He was the one seeking out a poison with dizzying highs and lethal effects. His emotions, want, drive, need brought him to this point, tracking down and hunting his own downfall. But he couldn't stop, perversely he didn't want to. He wanted to stand at the cusp of a hungry death rock, he had to follow these siren cries. He had to know if there was anything redeemable in what he was feeling. If these perverted swells of raw instinct meant their sweet promises. Had to give in to the chance of deciphering it all, stumbling across the uncompromising truths. This tide declared he could finally know, and he wasn't about to rob himself of that outcome. The endorphins rush licked his nausea, permitting it to surrender and he felt freshness of the filthy air fill his lungs, preparing him for the remainder of the night as the hollow fingers of darkness dragged him further into their clutches as he disappeared from the sallow neons, fully into the fire.

xxx

He found himself walking into a pleasant looking, if slightly musty, apartment building, barely blinking. Numbly allowing the magnetic hold lug him forward as he arrived at his destination. He walked the dimly lit hallway, his brown gaze drawn immediately to the door at his left, ajar and laced in citrine tape. He knew exactly where he was and it was this that had his heart fighting to escape his chest, his mouth dry and his eyes stinging. But still he stepped forward, climbing over the plastic barrier and entering the room where his life had been saved by a maniac.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the room, trying to ground himself in senses but it smelt of harsh chemicals and bitter metal, undoubtedly from the actions of the authorities' while clearing up after the Joker. A foul taste of disappointment registered on his pallet before he opened his eyes and surveyed the room he continued to venture into. The chalked outlines of the bodies were still present, little cards detailing inane facts at the side of them. The bed covers were still disturbed, just how he'd left them, though he had been careful not to leave behind any traces of body fluids or anything that could be traced back to bumbling, clueless Bruce Wayne. He reached out, trailing his fingers along the worn cotton of the sheets, soaking himself in memories. This wasn't his bed, or his flat- he'd merely used it while the owner lay lifeless, stewing in a pool of her own juices in the hallway. But...somehow he felt he needed to be here. Felt drawn to this horribly humdrum place.

He was hauled out of his thoughts by the distinct footfall behind him and the rustling of the crime scene tape. He didn't move. There was no point. His skin started to buzz with vibrant electricity, his muscles began to quiver in strained anticipation. He already knew who was approaching him. He felt the slow addition of heat into the room as the man in purple arrived at his side. Bruce peered at him out of the corner of his eyes, the flashes of white, green and red too tempting to fully ignore. Joker was staring at him, he realised, the forest orbs slicing with unique talent into his body, the gaze stabbing into him, impossible to ignore- just as it had been the last time they were in this room together. It was as though in that stare, Joker knew everything about him, knew the parasitic torment bubbling in his brain. Knew his hopeless, foolish dreams. Knew the salts of his consuming, viral needs. And he couldn't help but feel as though he wanted to unfold himself open, slice himself into clear cut pieces to show the man next to him everything that he was. In these interludes, Bruce felt himself become weak, powerless to evade the oncoming events, all the while embracing the growing sensations of strength dancing in his bloodstream, urging him onwards. And he turned to meet the insanity inducing glare of his enemy with his own blazing blue orbs, refusing to turn away this time. He wasn't backing down, not now. He met those blistering jaded eyes with a stare equally as intense, feeling himself sinking in towards the maniac, fleeting thoughts begging of him -can you feel it too?

Finally, Bruce was staring down the barrel of sober fate, a place inside of his chest aflame as pieces of him broke off and crumbled into eager dust. For the first time, he wasn't running away from this. He wasn't blanketing himself in deceptive guilt, he wasn't cushioned by duty. For once, he just was.

And out of nowhere, the sacrificial pair thrust forward, ravenous hands grabbing for purchase at glowing skin, sliding over creased faces like they were starved of the sensation, lips colliding with desperate precision. Emotions leaked out in between sly breaths as, nimble, delirious fingers tangled themselves in brown and green locks, chests heaving as they realised the twist in the road they had passed onto. They were barrelling towards this outcome, nothing left to grab onto but the other, nothing to stop what was in motion. They were decaying into their counterpart, and they wanted to. Wanted it.

Both of them knew they were intoxicated, knew this wasn't rational or intelligent. Knew it was filthy, dirty badbadbad. But mouths parted in unrestrained passions, hands clawing and teeth gnashing as the agonizing stumped blaze of yearning poured down on them, and there was no remaining, splintering notion between the two of them that sang of giving a damn. This was unstoppable, uncontainable and they could feel themselves dissolving in it. As though they were melting and shifting, the universe around them fizzling out of existence, leaving only the two of them to remain grasping onto the life support machine of the man wrapped around their body. They grunted and snarled into biting lips, all the power and rage of the battle flaring up in feral passion as clothes fell with restraints to the stained carpet, abandon filleting the air. Bruce tore off the blood speckled vest, the clown having already disposed of his overcoats somewhere amidst their rabid kissing, and slid his hands under the violet shirt, tracing the muscular torso of his enemy as his tongue explored his ruined mouth. Joker jerked his head backwards, pausing their contact to lift the vigilante's sweater over his flushed, makeup smeared face, off his perfectly ruined body. He panted, desire like coal in his eyes as he looked upon the shattering image of the canvas map that was Bruce's upper body. He fought with wiggling impulses as forceful spasms snapped at him to pounce and claim, but the playboy reached forward, his softening expression cooling Joker's raging needs as a hand wrapped around his bicep, ushering him to return to the billionaire. Their mouths stood millimetres apart, tingling and reddened, their eyes heavy and charred as Joker shrugged off his own shirt and tugged at his tie, leaving him bare chested and quaking under these obnoxious, bloodthirsty desires.

Bruce pressed his lips against Joker's once more, humming into his mouth as the madman threaded his arms around his waist, pulling him flush against his body, the firmness of his chest, bare and touching his own skin, sending sparks of pure excitement through the billionaire's ravenous form. Bruce had kissed these lips dozens of times, and each time he had felt himself slipping into the corruption found coating the maniac's tongue, but this was different. The taste of the paint, the hot, naked flesh, the hands fluttering over his body, fingers daring to breach his waistband- it was unlike any moment he had shared with the clown. Normally, he'd feel his senses explode in his head, fizzling and burning until there was nothing, roasting away at his core. Devouring him. But here, everything was soaring, the sensations so immaculately untainted, every touch diluted with something he could only liken to life. This wasn't the usual numbing endeavour. This made every repose, every synaptic spasm, every goddamn second worth so much more. He wasn't questioning. Not now. His every reaction- physical and mental- was bellowing at him not to lose this to doubt. Not when it felt so-

Joker let go of a gasp he'd been threatening to crucify should it pass his lips as Bruce did away with thought processes and snaked his hands down to cup Joker's ass through his pants. He slid his tongue in delirium over its insistent counterpart invading his mouth, relishing in the waves of pleasure rolling off him as he merely kissed the deathly force wrapped around his body, uncaring of the consequences just for once. Bruce parted his legs, winding one around the pinstriped limb of the man he was relentlessly trying to consume with his mouth. He pulled on Joker's ass, and disposing of any lingering spitefully wise traces of caution, he began grinding the now pulsing bulge in his pants up against the the murderer's crotch which he found was now in a similar state of unsteady arousal.

Joker moaned in approval as Bruce rubbed against his encased cock, wanting nothing more for the final barriers between them to evaporate. His mind was completely lost to the debauched euphoria he was being lead astray by. Sex was never something that gnawed at his psyche, never something that occurred to him as an activity he might one day sample himself. The whole concept was hideously banal to him. So rancidly average. Human. But Batman wasn't something he'd taken into consideration back then and it had been utterly laughable the first time he'd touched that previously unresponsive flesh while running thoughts of the Bat through his infested mind. He'd been crying with gut shredding hilarity as he finally hurtled over the edge of climax for the first time, but this...this wasn't funny. His Bat was moving against him, his arms around him, his pulsing arousal pressed against Joker's own- as lost to this connection as he was. And all he wanted was more. More of this friction, more contact because fuck, this is what he'd been saying for so long. Bruce groaned into his mouth, the noise echoing through Joker's body with volcanic instance and ruptured something inside him, dragging out a guttural sound and wrenching his eyes open. He wanted more of this. Right now.

Bruce's breath was sniped from him as he was shoved harshly back against the bed he'd recuperated in, his head hitting the pillow, sending the warmth found in zero gravity twitching inside him. His eyes lost focus, the grainy black replacing crisp images for a heartbeat before he felt the strong body straddle him, a demonic face hovering near his, curtained by a waterfall of green curls, black lust encrusted in every inch of that baneful expression. It was the look he was accustomed to when Joker was out for blood, warped with something stolen from their illicit relapses and it shot gorgeous, foreign fear into him, arousal curdling in his middle and he pulled Joker down to meet him, catching the sliced bottom lip within his teeth, eyes dusk and desire chasing demons around them. He felt rough hands grapple with his belt, wondering why the hell he'd thought wearing one would be of any use, his pulse causing riots in his head as the inviting lick of the cold air wormed its way into his pants, followed by those covetous fingers. Bruce's chest thudded when the cool digits brushed past his pulsating cock, almost deliberately ensuring the teasing contact was felt before the light caress of fingertips was withdrawn and with it, his pants and boxers, Joker tugging at them in feral want, grunting as they were caught on his ankles. The vigilante hoisted himself up, keen to escape this vulnerable state- this needed to be on equal footing. That meant Joker's pants had to go too.

He fumbled with the mismatched button on the purple trousers, frustration building as the impossible disks stubbornly clung onto their position, preventing full contact between them. The battle felt like it had spanned decades, but with a final snarl of impatience, tanned hands batted away Bruce's and instantly buttons were launched across the room and the bite of the zipper was heard. Hurriedly, the playboy yanked down the final article of clothing separating them, removing the clown's underwear at the same time, not even putting up his defences when a heated noise ice-picked its way out of his throat as Joker's cock bounced up against his own taut stomach, reddened and wet at the tip. His lungs were working over time, ballooning inside his chest as the pair took in the sight of each other, whole masses of humming skin exposed for famished eyes to suck in, the results of their mutual actions aggressively standing to attention. The look on each of their faces, dishevelled hair spanning out like tendrils over their eyes, not quite hiding the needy, wanton, smouldering gleams across rosy faces. The sight of their respective foe, open, nothing between them save for paint and sweat and looking utterly, licentiously sinful would have been enough to sustain their hunger for months. But they were greedy men and, really, this could never, never have been enough. They never crawled from the communal womb of the kind of person who did things by halves. They liked things to come full circle, to be whole. Complete.

Unable to even contemplate not touching now he'd gotten this far, Bruce fell backwards, pulling the madman on top of him, slicing his fingernails into Joker's back as he did so. The two groaned as their cocks finally met, demanding, throbbing and without restriction and the brunet slid his hands down to cup Joker's ass, caressing the bare, smooth cheeks, thrusting his hips up to intensify the contact between them. It was maddening- after all this time. It had been years since they had first met. Years of debauched longing and shredding self hatred and the solution had been in plain sight the entire time. The sensation of Joker's dick, his flesh, hot and slick, encasing his entire body, his form slotting so fucking perfectly against Bruce's. It was as though he'd spent his whole existence frozen. He could feel the blood howl and pound in the shaft rubbing against his and moaned deep in his throat, uncaring about the sight he must've made, spread open and drenched in need beneath his mortal enemy. He was openly writhing, bucking up against the psychopath, scratching his nails on that deliciously scarred skin, promising the spectres around him he'd trace every last one with a carnal tongue. Forest curls were flicked over a curved shoulder and the criminal brought his hand up to that dangerous mouth, his eyes not moving from Bruce's as a pink, crafty tongue darted out. It traced the palm of his hands in a tortuously slow, sensual path, ending at his finger tips, those emerald beacons slamming right into the flushed billionaire and fuck if that wasn't the most erotic sight Bruce had ever seen.

It took the vigilante a while to realise the low, needy almost-whine echoing around him was coming from his own mouth but a vicious grin peeled its way onto Joker's face and there was no mistaking that malice for anything else, as that now wet hand descended and cruelly danced along the length of his dick.

"Fuck" he gasped out the first word spoken between them that night, eyes clenching tight at that fluttering, barely-there touch. The smirk plastered on the madman's face evaporated back into that agonisingly lusty glower as he leant down, braced on one hand as he slid his parted slips over the pulse point in Bruce's twitching neck.

"Calm down, dearest" he whispered against the glistening skin, a helpless tongue fluttering out to taste the salt of the bronzed flesh. He experimentally wrapped his fist around the heat of Bruce's member, pumping just a little and soaking up every last beautiful moan escaping those fucking perfect lips, his entire body on the verge of collapsing when his Bat arched underneath him. Coming undone At his hand. Heh, literally.

Bruce almost couldn't take it. Joker was hardly doing anything to him and already he could faintly feel the sizzling acid of the white hot daggers stabbing inside of him as orgasm built up in his balls. The mouth on his neck was driving him insane, the wet, slippery muscle tasting his skin in earnest, mouthing the sensitive flesh like he knew what it was doing to Bruce, licking against the thick, pulsing veins he found in the playboy's neck. The hand withdrew from his cock and his eyes flew open, glaring at the Joker because if he dared tease him now...

But then the jade eyes were twinkling up at him, hidden secrets locked in those hauntings orbs as the red mouth made way for a salacious tongue, gliding down his collarbone, a glimmering trail left in its wake. Bruce felt his breath pause, almost hearing the tattoo of his throbbing erection, matching the hue and cry of his over excited bloodstream. He could feel the weight and warmth coming from Joker's own appendage as it rested on his thigh, he wanted to reach down and grab him, tear him apart under the throws of pleasure, inflicting every goddamn last second of pure fucking ecstasy on him with ferocious devotion until he warped and twisted under his fingers, exploding just for him. But for the life of him, he couldn't move. He was utterly paralysed under Joker's ministrations. Desperately wanting nothing more than to devour the clown before he himself was consumed, but finding it impossible to will his body into action. As though, should he remove himself from this position, the environment would wilt away. Ferment into nothingness just like all those torrid dreams, full of warped reflections of bliss and empty oaths.

But the mouth edging across his chest was too soft, too pliant to be something the bitter dredges of his psyche could've conjured up. The maniac had always droned on about how he knew Bruce better than his own self and he was shoved into the gaudy headlights of admittance because yes yes yes. His fractured mind could never retch up something so fucking perfect. Joker was pulling him apart, disintegrating him in this deadly perfection and he wanted happily to sink into it. The tongue slid across his nipple, teasing the sensitive nub with deft circular motions before sucking it into that ruined mouth. A strangled noise followed, Bruce's hands twisting in the sheets, not quite understanding how this was happening. How every last touch seemed to have the ability to push him a little closer to flowing over the gorge. Even as his nipple was taken between careful teeth, the soothing embrace of faint pain only served to make his cock tremble with miserable want. He felt the world quiver and vibrate but the hand ghosting over his chest and up to just under his jaw, casually stilling him told him that the source of the shaking was himself.

The torture was exquisite and a questionably large part of him didn't want it to end. Ever. But the other man seemed to take mercy on him, letting go of his erect nipple and trailing spider kisses down his naval, stopping briefly to dip his tongue into Bruce's belly button, causing a surprised wail to coax its way out of that tightening chest, before moving on, lapping at the ticklish flesh covering his public bone, rolling downwards with trickle-slow pace, lingering unreasonably long in places it had no need to. Bruce's teeth dug into his lips, tiny drops of coppery liquids leaking onto his taste buds as he felt warm breath finally tiptoe over his cock, moisture evident in the air. He forced his hips to remain still, fighting against every muscle that implored the stubborn man to just give in and buck up into that devilish mouth. But no. He stayed remarkably stiff, face contorted in arduous anticipation as he felt the Joker's warmth so close to him, and sickeningly nowhere near where he needed him.

He felt Joker's lips graze the area around the base of his dick, pressing delicate, satin kisses to the skin there, the tip of the now familiar scheming tongue just whispering at his flesh. His breath was short, adrenaline threading him with havoc as he felt that slippery organ wind down his lower regions, the areas it had slid from burning white. He was calling up all strength in his body, the power that had gone into hiding somewhere in his chest and was all but begging his arm to move, to push the clown's head where he want it and just as he thought he was making progress, a terrible mouth latched onto his sac, bombarding him with instantaneous agonising pleasure. He yelped loudly at the sensation, gyrating his hips in the most microscopic of circles as Joker proceeded to suck at his balls, using his tongue where he felt it necessary. The motions were careful, exploratory but extremely eager. He picked up on every twitch of Bruce's body, every breath knocked off its hinges. Watched with careful intensity as Bruce's chest would rise and decrease in size with varying speeds depending on how hard and where he was currently mouthing.

Bruce felt long fingers trace up and down the muscled contours of his thighs in a soothing fashion as the madman continued to take his heavy sac into his mouth, and the contrast of the light, liquid sensation against the savage pleasure stole a throaty moan from him, his lips beginning to form the start of the criminals name. His dick was incredibly, unimaginably hard at this point, pounding and flushed a deep purple-red, precome pooled at the top. He could feel every passing second of the ruthless agony pass like long minutes oozing into hours and the natural hum of the room began ringing in his ears, nausea threatening to close in on him, blackened spots appearing on his vision, when finally, fucking finally, Joker retracted his mouth from Bruce's pulsating balls and swiped at the throbbing shaft of his cock. That simple touch, the quick meeting of tongue on the core of his want had Bruce practically screaming, shouting out, not even slightly concerned about what this could be perceived as.

Joker dragged his tongue up Bruce's length, almost intimidated by the way it pounded underneath his touch, reinforcing that this was actually happening, but he kept at it, tracing patters as the billionaire hissed and cursed like a sailor. Bruce felt as the muscle reached the head of his cock, swirling around with simulated expertise, but Joker was driven by pure instinct, lapping at the organ with curious accuracy, coercing Bruce into reality-shifting pleasure. The savage mouth placed open, wet kisses along his twitching dick, sucking lightly as it moved, and then Joker started to fucking hum, the sound sending electric blasts right through Bruce's body, compelling him to arch off the bed, mouth open, wailing noises escaping. He felt Joker grin against him, whether he was enjoying his torture or pleased by Bruce's euphoria was horrendously ambiguous, but then that warm mouth was engulfing his cock entirely and it ceased to matter.

Bruce's eyes wrenched open, needing to see this sight and they happened to peel just in time to see Jokers beautifully ruined mouth fully close around him, his dick disappearing past those lips until they came to rest at his pubic hair. This image, this single second of improbable reality against all odds had the pillars of his soul shaking in delirium and this path ebbing closer to humongous completion was real. And it was just now that it truly hit him. Joker was wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways, had taken him inside his body, connecting the two of their lives in a way that was impossible to do outside of this pulsating passage of time. The air between the two of them was ravaged and lumpy and Bruce found it hard to let it in, using every ounce of his being to focus on not thrusting into that hot perfection. And slowly, as though adapting to the wondrously new experience, Joker began to raise his head, dragging his plump lips in seamless tightness up Bruce's cock, creating a vacuum around the organ. The vigilante could feel the edges where the madman's mouth had been torn, the slight swells and ridges of the puckered scars, the indentation on his lower lip. Sustaining the tradition of the peculiar, the marred fleshed seemed to inject even more pleasure into his veins, the odd textures pumping him full of rich sensation like no other he'd experienced before now and there was no way he could stop the spindling moans now. Joker's lips slid over the slick head of his member, releasing him with a pop , his tongue spiralling over the sensitive head and without warning he was suddenly swallowed yet again, this time in a vigorously quick movement of the forest haired head bouncing up and down on his cock.

Bruce found his arms raising helplessly, drawn to Joker's hair, burying wanting fingers in the dirty green as he was pleasured by the criminal's quickly talented mouth. He bit back an exceptionally loud sound as Joker tongued him from within his mouth as he continued to impale his mouth without caution onto Bruce's dick, taking him down unfathomably deep, sending clawing ecstasy picking into his bones. He pushed Joker's curls back from where it had fallen in front of his eyes, watching with estranged awe as his greatest foe performed oral sex on him. Thinking of it so clinically could've feasibly convinced him that this was meaningless. A simple urging of his body that could be repelled in a heartbeat. But he knew it was unreachably far past that point. He didn't even truly believe it had ever even been close to that point. Bodies yearning for contact was one thing, but this swam deeper. This was embedded in their souls.

Wetness prickled his stinging eyes as he breached the corners of limitless pleasure, wretchedly adoring Joker's actions, loving his touches with swarming, blistering emotion. Each time Joker raised his head, he caught sight of little touches of smeared artificial red imprinted along his shaft and the sight had him flinging his head back, pulling on Joker's hair, bringing that mouth closer onto him, pushing his arousal deeper into decadence. And Joker didn't miss a beat, didn't gag or make a single sound of complaint, he flowed with it effortlessly, a pleasant noise birthed in his throat. The fingers on Bruce's thighs strayed, reaching upwards as the clown shifted slightly, coming around and cupping his throbbing balls, rolling them a little in his artistic hands. And Bruce sobbed. The rippling, scraping flame snaking its way into him, rumbling in complete overbearingness had him so fucking close, just balancing one footed tightrope just on the edge. And Joker was violently attempting to push him over, head bobbing furiously, lips tightening around him, the lightest friction of teeth seducing him into blackness. Bruce heard the whispers of his inner voices. Not yet.

He folded his fingers hard in Joker's hair and pulled, thrusting his head back with aggressive force, his cock screaming in protest as the source of its approaching climax was ripped away but he pushed the want aside with mighty insistence. Joker looked at him, not hurt, not annoyed, but with curiosity. Challenge. The most sinister of quite hisses seeped out of Bruce's swollen lips and then he was pouncing forward, pushing Joker down on the bed, lips meeting the fucking incredible ones of his counterpart in a kiss, awkward and sore, too much teeth, sloppy and running on empty lungs. But horrifically amazing. Bruce could taste himself on Joker's mouth, remnants of the tartness of his cock, the salty tang of his precome a little bitter on his tongue, bating the furnace inside him. He moaned into the lips that were seconds ago sending him into a wormhole of pleasure, and let them bite back at him, let them completely ravish his mouth. There was a quiet thought within his psyche that wondered if there was much he wouldn't let Joker, or any part of the man, do to him at this point. The plastic yes on his lips died before it had its first breath.

Joker's hands were cupping his jaw, sliding languidly into his dampened hair as their groins slotted against each other once more and Bruce decided with a loose smirk that the force of twisted nature below him was due a little reciprocation. He could, of course, choose to follow the path his enemy had taken and drag it out, torture the scarred man in brutal pleasure for long minutes, refusing to go directly to where he was needed. But if he was honest, he wasn't sure he could wait that long either. So in a forward fashion borrowed from the usual flourish of the man panting into his mouth, Bruce palmed Joker's cock, momentarily surprised by just how hard he was. Just how pronounced the pulsating of the organ felt in his hand. But that surprise thawed into metallic hunger as he wrapped his fist around the clown's arousal, drinking up the breathless moans he received in return for his simple action.

He began fisting the man with swift, firm strokes, any part of his brain telling him this was wrong told with venom to shut the fuck up as he tore his mouth away from Jokers and latched onto his neck, tongue tracing the bone jutting out from his shoulder. Joker's head tilted back, a little too quiet for someone like him, but when Bruce glanced up at him, his eyes were squeezed shut, lips tucked into his mouth, the paint on his face not hiding for a second the look of total, bare, human need he was wearing. And somewhere inside Bruce he was rejoicing, arrogantly pleased that he'd been the one to capture a creature, a monster like Joker in something so pure. Untainted by anarchy and order, no presence of moral coding, just pure feeling. Though, he thought distantly, Joker must've felt something similar while possessing Bruce in mind and soul not a few minutes prior to this.

Joker raised his hips up to meet Bruce's thrusts, delight spreading through him as the vigilante lapped at his neck, gnawing at a particularly seductive spot. His skin was drawn into Bruce's mouth and sucked with bruising hardness, teeth still digging into him. The clown cupped back of the other's head, holding him to his body like he expected those lips alone to bring him over the edge. Bruce was captivated, entranced by these minuscule jolts he detected within the man below him, sucking at the base of his neck and watching the shivers trail through him without instruction. He felt as though he needed to indulge this moment, break the skin and luxuriate in the gall. Continuing to pump at Joker's cock, he pulled barely an inch away, reflecting on the peachy skin, watching with firm interest how it was shifting into a purple hue. He'd left plumb marks on this body so many times before. This wasn't a claiming. Wasn't a marking. This was ashen apology never permitted to leave his body, this was taking tradition and warping it into new. He flicked out his insatiable tongue a single time more, over the bruising flesh, and deeming his work satisfactory, he shuffled backwards, taking to his haunches below the madman.

Dizzy eyes narrowed down at him, a faint flush creeping up Joker's neck, disappearing into the paint and he could feel the speed of the man's breath ricocheting through his limbs. A slightly quivering hand brushed along his cheek and jaw, and he couldn't stop the wispy twitch of his lips. He'd tear into himself later that they were not lovers, this wasn't making love. This wasn't even sex. But not now. Just...not now. Bruce turned his head to the side, drawing those fingers into his mouth, rapping them in his tongue, sucking lightly, velvet thrills cascading to his stomach when Joker's eyes fluttered at his action, lips coming to form a perfect 'O'.

Releasing the digits, he pressed a kiss to the head of the madman's cock, his hand still working at the base, soaking up the way Joker's body buzzed at the act, his fingers twitching in the air like he didn't know what to do with himself. Like he didn't know how to react. Arousal was howling in his synapses and he had to fiercely command his hips not to jut out and rub against to cool sheets to earn a sliver of friction, what he so desperately wanted, but he was nowhere near done with this yet. Bruce rolled his tongue out onto Joker's dick, coiling it down, tracing veins and chasing moans as he worked the flesh, the wet muscles writhing against the larger organs, taking in into his mouth and releasing it. Never resting on a single technique. Sure to lash Joker deeper into madness. This...type of sex, swallowing the centre of another man's arousal wasn't completely foreign to Bruce, but it had been many solemn nights since the feigned carefree days of his early adulthood. But having Joker now, silently pleading and pulsing inside his lips was nettling his heart, pinpricking his desires and why on earth had he even given this brand of gratifying another up? But of course the devils in the thundering shells within him hissed that this wasn't about types. This was about this person. And it was with hatred he acknowledged the truth. Though, tarnished acceptance didn't flutter with hate for the man...but, curiously, the situation.

He felt Joker slam his hips forwards, nearly choking Bruce and the playboy berated himself mentally. This wasn't a time for internal debate. He swallowed down pooling saliva and took a breath, shooing away the reflexes threatening his efficiency and dove back in, this time taking the throbbing penis deep inside his mouth, his unneeded hands tracing patterns over Joker's stomach, occasionally tickling against his thudding balls much to the green haired-man's approval if the renewed moaning was anything to go by. His eyes found themselves closed, enjoying the task entirely too much for someone who was not receiving any direct stimulation at the action, but just having this man, taking him inside, it soothed the flaring sparks inside him, leaving him almost languid in his actions, affection oozing out of his pours as he boiled pleasure inside Joker. He allowed this to continue for a few more seconds before reciting in his head they had further levels to reach before this...whatever it was melted back into the iced talons of normalcy once more and he let the clown's wet cock fall from his lips, watching it twitch, level against the man's flat belly.

Joker's hissed curses swarmed in the air, knees curling upwards as his ass rose from the bed, thrusting into nothing. Bruce felt his pulse boom, lost inside him at the sight, festering lust licking at his innards and he slid deeper between Joker's legs, teetering on realms of the tender most intimacy as he knocked the muscled thighs further apart, hands sliding down to cup at Joker's ass cheeks. He let his breath brush over Joker's lower regions with thunder soft touch, drinking in the mess of a man he'd shaped, not able to really make out his face, but sensing abhorrent pleasure curdling around him. Giving in to the cries filling the room as well as the part of him that wanting to connect with his enemy in such a depraved manner, his lips feathered just inside the crease of Joker's ass, the melody of ceasing breath seizing latent parts of him. He dragged his bottom lips with a suspended determined laze up to Joker's perineum, swiping his tongue at the smooth expanse of skin, a startled groan leaving a heaving chest somewhere above him. With dark eyes, he tenderly spread the soft globes of flesh he was faintly beginning to admire and descended, tongue twirling against the skin, seeping further and further downwards until it came to rest at his entrance, not hesitating as it began its assault.

"Oh" The single huskily strained word, barely more than a vowel had Bruce's nostrils' flaring, waves of callous yearning javelined into him and he moved with a little more insistence running in his veins, a little more of him wanting to please. Just for this moment...to not send this man into bouts of pain and call up illicit, horrendous laughter, but just to bathe him in his mirrored want. To let the snarls subside and flow with the clouded whispers glossing over his consciousness. He flicked his tongue at Joker's tight entrance, his hands coming up to rest at the swaying hips, quelling the helpless movement as he lapped deftly at the ring of muscle, intent on coaxing deafening screams out of the criminal. He circled the flesh with his moist, hot tongue, massaging with the tip and rolling it slightly with a double-jointed ability that had Joker biting into his lightning knuckles, muffling the harmony of grunts and sighed groans. That wouldn't do.

Adjusting his angle a touch, his head leaning to the side to gain better access, he opened Joker's cheeks a little wider. Bruce languidly licked at the heat between them with invigorated intensity, prodding and thrusting against the resistance with his mouth, feeling the muscles flex under the twisting path of his attentions. The same long, excruciating heat that he'd used to tease the clown's cock was fully in submerged in the task of snaking and curling around his hole, opening him up in ruthless, relaxed, untold rhythms. Joker felt as though he was some hell beast, sent to fork him into glassy madness, pushing him closer and closer and not relenting. Not for a moment. The criminal closed his eyes tighter, the skin on his fingers breaking where he was scissoring into it with gnawing teeth as Bruce continued to twist that tongue against him, missioned with melting him down.

A hand strayed from his hip and brushed up to grab his wrist, fingers curling around him, tugging gently. Bruce wanted to hear him. Joker slit his eyes and cast his gaze down at the man between his thighs and let his fist be guided away, just as Bruce rewarded him with a quick stroke of his pounding arousal. The garrotted wail it tore from him was heart rendering, and it was as though some kind of phantom dedicated to nothing but pleasure had incised its way into the two men. Joker's fingers clawed at the sheets, tensing his entire body while doing his utmost to relax his ass and Bruce slowly twirled his tongue and probed in a way that had the wet muscle seeping into him, moving in and out, satirical of what they both needed to follow. It was as though a dam had cracked open and the clown was on the crust of infinity, drowning under thick currents of bliss as his Bat continued to lavish him in this wonderful treatment, licking at his insides. He spasmed and shook with frightening seizure-like quakes, but Bruce just carried on, like he was expecting it, letting him ride it all out but not letting him slip over.

Another prickling, soothing stroke followed as the tongue withdrew from inside him, just resolving to stay where it was for a moment, fluttering against his entrance as Bruce slowly, barely caressed his cock. Lips pressed against the delicate flesh, lingering just to kiss him, and if Joker's mind was his own right now, the quips he could've come up with were endless. But then Bruce's mouth was clambering back up, licking around his sac, trailing up his cock. Evil and wanting, rarely giving. This punishment was five year under electric shock treatment at Arkham threaded with the most delicious rain flavoured of chaos and if Bruce dreamed of stopping, reaping terror was more than inevitable. But Bruce wasn't stopping, he climbed and climbed until he was straddling over Joker again, smiling to himself as the clown in his half mad state sought out his lips, eyes closed and heart like a hummingbird. He obliged for a few minutes before pulling away and staring down at him, nothing left in his furnace eyes but lust.

"Is there any...?" Bruce's voice was hoarse and strained, the low rumble trailing off before his words blossomed. The clown in his flustered disorientation frowned up at him, the question hardly registering in his pleasure saturated brain at all but then Bruce's fingers brushed at his entrance again and the gasp he croaked out hammered down the meaning to him, nailing it right into his skull and he blinked up at his greatest foe, his only lover, his only everything and swallowed. There were dangerous sparks in his spine, coiling around in his bones like they held plans of ripping them from his meat and they rooted from the soaring, piercing look Bruce was giving him. His dusky green orbs flicked down to Bruce's naked body a heartbeat and saw the quivering skin, the uncontrollable shaking of his limbs and knew his want was matched with no question here. And when his eyes homed back in on the brunet, he felt the resulting waver. The silence brimmed with panting lasted a daring second and then he was shrugging, as though it never happened.

"I don't know," he murmured, shaking off the way his misused voice faltered over the words. He swallowed down the thickness on his tongue. "Try the drawers." The sudden introduction of cool air as Bruce moved away was discomforting and just for a slimy, vile second he was an hour ago, without knowing this completion fully. He didn't like it. He watched with demanding eyes as the playboy flustered about the room, yanking open drawers and rustling through them with an eagerness that with any other person may be a little embarrassing. But this was nastily mutual. A product of sadistic fates. And it wasn't just he who felt the soaring of something internal when Bruce's hand finally rested on an appropriate bottle, large sighs meandering in the quietness as he did so.

Gingerly, Bruce came back to the bed, the desired object in hand, and knelt on the mattress, eyes skipping along the covers until they came to rest on Joker's. The clown's hands shot through the air and grabbed the billionaire by his dark hair, yanking him off balance and towards him as their mouths collided, raw and wanting as they hovered over what had been waiting to crown for years. Without moving his lips away, Bruce settled between Joker's legs, feeling like some wild carnivore and at the same time, like something wistful and mended by peace. He flicked open the cap of the clear container, his heart wiggling about in his chest as he pressed down, feeling the thick liquid seep out onto his fingers, coating them thoroughly in the solution, determined to make this feel at the very least good for the other. There was a murmuring in his brain chanting this wasn't a battle field, overruling that still looming other side of him. But he was licking at the inside of the clown's mouth, moaning without bounds as the other took to sucking lightly on his tongue and it occurred to him that those pugnacious other sides couldn't dream of stopping this.

Once his fingers were sufficiently lubricated, he trailed them down to the now thoroughly moist area between Joker's legs, bypassing the tremendously painful looking appendage in between and resting at his entrance. With a pertinacious stream of courage corkscrewing into him, he found his fingers pushing against the ring of muscle, rubbing in small circles until the barrier relaxed enough to fit the tip of one digit in. Joker's sudden intake of breath had him pausing a moment, shattering the compulsion to just get this over and done with and he carefully pressed his mouth against the madman's cheek, listening to the thudding of his heart. After a five pulses, he slipped his finger a little deeper, faintly surprised at the lack of resistance. The clown let his head fall right back against the pillow, mouth hanging open as he voiced his approval at the action. This...wasn't terrible.

Bruce began to slowly plunge his middle finger in and out of the tight opening, twisting as he went along, mimicking the next step they would take together. Unable to reach the other's mouth at this angle, he latched his teeth onto an erect nipple, enjoying the surprised yelp that bit into the quiet. He crooked his finger up a little, rubbing at the internal walls and looking up intently at the spasms he could see in Joker's neck, the sighs emerging from that ruby mouth and found himself needing more. Releasing the reddened nipple, he looked downward, seeking out the bottle of lubrication before squeezing a little more onto his fingers and nudging in an extra one. This time, he gave no waiting time, no warning and slowly slid them into Joker's incredibly hot ass, eventually scissoring them a little, stretching the man open. He felt the legs at either side of him shake under his attentions and knew without a moment's deliberation that he was uncoiling something inside the maniac, dragging him down into the filthy pits of climax and the haze in his head healed, just like that. And then there was nothing else.

He crooked his fingers upwards, aiming for that spot he'd experienced first hand in his private quarters many times himself and it was only after a couple of minutes lead by loud gasping and persistent rubbing that a broken cry alerted him to its location. He lightly pressed the pads of his fingers against the raised area, pushing up gently, knowing it only took the most tender of touches. Anything more was far, far too much. The result was a spine twisting, skin rippling, all-body heaving quaver, trembles rushing through the sinewy form and Bruce felt the heat below burn with vehement passion, precome sticky against his belly and his blood demanded that this was hurried. He couldn't deny these impulses for much longer, wouldn't.

Joker was babbling incoherently, repeating words and his name like he was some heated lover Bruce had romanced for years, but he couldn't find the need to be perturbed by this, he just continued to thrust his slick fingers in and out of the tight passageway, feeling the muscles clamp down on him, groaning as he imagined how it would feel around his erection. He was mindlessly pouring quick kisses all over the other man's torso as he added another finger, slipping it in with ease, opening the digits against the constricting walls, making sure Joker was entirely prepared for what would follow. He could barely hear for the echo of his own blood in his ears and at the same time he could hear every last breathy sound the clown made with precise definition.

He stilled his fingers inside the other man, his other hand somehow having started caressing the flexing stomach and Joker's blazed eyes cut open and he couldn't help the softness in his expression as he looked down at the madman. Still panting, Joker's lips twitched up, not forming their intended smirk but resting lightly on the pleasant, crooked smile that was hanging there instead and Bruce returned it, suspending pretence. He withdrew his fingers, earning him a wince and a delicious sound of protest but then Joker clapped hungry eyes on the vigilante as those strong hands spread thick lubricant over his burgeoning arousal, his eyes fluttering at the stimulation his cock was craving and twitchy fingers found themselves clawing at the air as Joker reached for Bruce, tugging on his arms to bring him over his body. Bruce met his gaze, a breath of Batman flaring in his pupils as he spread Joker's legs open a little further, nestling down in the space between.

Neither of them could grasp against the reality they were in, what was seconds away from happening but they understood that this had to happen, their want drowned by need, needing to be connected in the most base of terms. Bruce realised somewhere amidst the hammering inside his skull that it could just as easily be him about to take Joker into his own body, realised he wanted that just as equally as he wanted this and it only served to cauterise deeper arousal into his blood flow. He positioned himself at Joker's entrance, staring down at the man below him for five seconds, ten, and then he was slowly pushing in, hands gripping the clown's sides, holding his breath as he watched himself gradually disappear into the tightness. Joker's eyes flinched a little, not reacting fully to the obvious pain, but instead adopting a shine that told of his complete trust in this situation, He felt himself slowly ripping open, and it was awkward and sore but it was washed with nothing he could have ever dreamed. The way it felt- Bruce's cock sinking into him, stretching him open with something akin to care, joining their bodies as their souls vined out to do the same. It was like lava sizzling at his flesh.

Bruce could feel the second that the clown gave into the sensations, the muscles relaxing just enough for him to fully slip himself into Joker, until he was buried to the hilt. They panted like they were on a moonlight chase and maybe they were, somehow still pursuing their roles. Chasing destiny. He couldn't stop staring down at the other man and oh god, it was so hot, too tight, too perfect around Bruce, like the hangman's noose was slipping around his neck and he was given a prayer and last word to chew. And then he was pulling out, sharp and swift, groans torn out from each man as Joker tightened around him and legs laced around his waist and with one final glance at his life, he plunged forward and the rope snapped around his neck.

Joker arched off the covers, eyes bulging and tantalising moans falling from his lips and every cell in Bruce's body hummed in frenzied appreciation at the sight, heat unravelling at the base of his spine, splintering upwards. He began thrusting his hips forwards at an even pace, sinking deeper into Joker's ass, marveling at just how inexplicably well fit they were, how easily they had slot together. Joker was gripping him from the inside, his limbs snaking around Bruce's back and drawing him nearer like he was hell bent on soaking every last part of Bruce up and if this man was an acid Bruce wasn't sure he'd fight him off even as his skin leaked off his bones. He was trying to go slow, ignoring the way his legs felt like butter as he strained against his urge to pound into the warmth around him in abandon, but he had an inkling the other wasn't used to this sort of act and tried desperately to keep his movements as painless as possible. But the legs wrapped around his ass were urging him onward, pulling his cock further inside, fingers digging into him wherever they scrambled but with inhuman strength and harsh breathes he remained moving with caution.

A startling, frustrated grunt left the madman's lips and he began bucking up against Bruce's thrusts, setting a much faster, harder pace, sighing as he felt that thick cock slip into him again and again. Bruce grit his teeth at the sudden change and perched himself on two extended arms and shed his caution as he began to thoroughly plough into the clown's ass. Joker absolutely screamed when the Bat let go, slamming his cock into his opening, hips snapping forward, impossible to stop. He scratched up Bruce's back, skin flaking off under his nails, winding red tendrils in their wake, until his hands reached the billionaire's damp neck and he yanked him down, their mouths pressing flush together as their bodies continued to do the same.

Bruce tried to moan into Joker's mouth, tried to voice the way his emotions were clashing like thunder clouds but there wasn't enough air, there wasn't enough to breath. He felt like it was sweltering, like he was baking himself alive and there was nothing but this man, this horrendous flaw on the face of the earth, nothing left but to hold on, to burn together. The brunet shifted a little on the bed, angling his thrusts with intent of injecting Joker with immense pleasure and as he jolted forwards, a half choked, muffled wail expelled itself from sinful lips letting Bruce know that he'd don't just that. The other man released Bruce's lips to bury his face in his neck, biting down against the liquefying ecstasy rooting in his lower stomach.

It was like the skies were ready to explode, come apart and flutter to the earth in all consuming supernovas, as if the rest of the world took in a collective breath of anticipation as those of worth were suspended in a tumultuous union, basking in the grey. Bruce felt Joker shudder around him as with each thrust the billionaire's stomach grazed along his neglected arousal, tattooing his veins in electric, forcing him to throw his head back once more and then the painted face came back into Bruce's sight. His brow was furrowed, his lips parted slightly and his eyes were unwavering from the other man's. And there was something fidgeting amongst the conflicting shades of green, something that looked a lot like completion, a lot like freedom. It sent Bruce plummeting to a deeper level of pleasure, icing his charcoaled remains, hysterically screaming out at him to take that plunge with it. Bruce swallowed back a sob, his expression tightening as he plunged into the lither man, craving that same feeling that was baptising Joker's face.

But it wasn't enough. Seeing the way Joker writhed around underneath hip, clawed against him, invited him in, like he was filling up cracks in a grimy wall, it made Bruce need the same thing. He thrust harder, placed firefly kisses along every inch of flesh in reach, tried to quieten it down but he wanted that ultimate. He'd come this far, let all the bonds drop from his skin as he swallowed the fiery sword, he wasn't leaving without finishing this.

A momentary flash of panic bubbled on Joker's face as Bruce withdrew his cock from him, breath shaky, vision bitty. He felt horridly, sordidly denied, empty. The thoughts that this couldn't be it avalanched inside the clown's head and he was on the verge of launching into an attack, frothing and biting at anything he could for Bruce daring to mess with him like this, but then Bruce was reaching for the discarded bottle of lube, squeezing a globule out onto his fingers, avoiding Joker's gaze as he coated them in the liquid. Joker panted, his sight finally dawning into focus as he watched the billionaire place the bottle down and reach behind him.

"Oh", Joker breathed, the barest flicker of a smile shadowing his face for a pulse before he was pulled back under the throws of the putrid, flagitious fervour that was dominating him. Bruce prepared himself with adept fingers and great proficiency, having done this to himself and to others many times before, but not wasting any time on lingering enough in the right spots to melt into pleasure, but continued to stretch himself open as quickly as possible, knowing they were both lavished with suffering under this impromptu recess. When he was able to slide a second finger in and out of himself with ease, groaning pleasantly at the sparking sensations, he amended this would have to do and pulled back his hand and finally met with the other man's gaze once again.

Unconsciously, Joker's tongue swiped out at his lip but whether this was due to habit or lust was debatable. Bruce crawled over to the man and straddled his legs without pause, both men moaning helplessly as their cocks brushed, mocking their states as they stood tinkering on the edge, almost anything possessing the ability to send them over.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce raised himself on his knees over the clown and gripped the base of his cock, the other shaking heavily under his touch and positioned it at his slick entrance. He gripped Joker's hip with his other hand to steady himself, the heat radiating from the tanned skin immense, and slowly lowered himself onto his...lover's arousal.

"Fuck" he panted as the hot, pulsating flesh filled him, spasmodic embers dancing into an inferno in his spine and this is what he had been craving, this sensation of sinking down into the final stages of inky depravity. It was like liquid life. When Joker was fully sheathed within him, he leant forward slightly, adjusting the angle to his liking and stole the opportunity to swipe a kiss from gasping lips. Joker's hands slid up and down his back like he didn't know what to do with them, but the other's lips removed all traces of confusion, eliminating it before it had chance to germinate and he rested his broad hands on Bruce's hips.

"Bats" he whispered against Bruce's sore lips, the name like honeyed reverence, devotion seeping through the fissures in his voice. It made something inside the vigilante throb, made him almost hurt. And he replied in the only manner possible in the world they were caught in, in this second, and forced his lips tighter against Joker's, passion like they hadn't yet experienced bleeding with emotions the elite had yet to define. Without removing his tongue from Joker's mouth, he began rocking his hips, pulling himself up a touch and then sinking back down, his erection twitching with each thrust. He could barely remember the outside world, the roles and duties and morals and sides. It was like it had become unhinged, a pocket universe containing only them and this frantic coupling they were locked in.

His breath grew louder, his vision blurrier and he let Joker's mouth go, reared backwards, teeth bared and let out a rabid roar, unleashing everything. This was more than anything in existence. More than Batman and Joker. More than Gordon, than Alfred, than Rachel. This was waxing elements forging together, too close to limbo and the only thing grounding him was the feel of the hands roaming his body, clutching blindly onto him like the other man was attempting the same. Joker began to thrust up into him and the sound of their bodies slapping together burrowed into each man, slipping them an onslaught of brilliant sensation, feeling it stop fluttering inside them and start shredding them apart. The air was sultry and smelt of sweat and sex and the heat was almost intolerable but Joker was so perfect beneath him, inside him and he just wanted more of this, could stay like this forever, rotting inside a living shell. Decomposing into being.

With his eyes trapped shut and his mouth leaking expletives, he blindly reached for his cock, the instantaneous thrill slashing through him fraying him into oblivion. Every last nerve in his body was sizzling, alive with undeniable vehemence and he was floating without hold right into the path of the acidic light desperate to take him, finding himself flowing to it without protest. His body tightened as impending release spiralled in his groin and he slammed himself down onto Joker's cock, impaling himself with hunger and yelping out each time the heat inside him hit him right on his prostate as he pumped his dick, needing just a little more to climax. And it didn't surprise him when Joker's fist batted away his own, seizing the task for himself as he stroked Bruce's dick with a firm hand, his motions quick and sloppy as they clambered towards orgasm, but Bruce didn't seem to notice. He was leaning back, fists buried in the sheets and positively engulfed in the pleasure they were both inflicting on each other, nothing but a handful of dust particles separating them after years of solace.

Joker felt Bruce's ass squeeze down on him hard and quivering before rhapsody bled into the room, swallowing his vision, pleasure tearing him to pieces. And then there were lips on his once more as they drank in each other's scream, the room becoming bleached as chalky pressure boiled over, implanting them with sweet rapture, the universe detonating around them as something burst within. Bruce felt himself coming over Joker's hands and stomach, wildly flailing and squirming as delirium etched into his bones and he was blanketed in this sugared culmination. His body felt like it was crumbling, dissolving completely, like he was ethereal. Pure fucking ecstasy. His throat protested under the strength of the noise breaking out of his lips, but pleasure waves pushed through him and fighting was not an option. He felt warm liquid spill into him and his body doubled over in a delicious after shock as Joker tucked his head against Bruce's throbbing chest and moaned into the hot flesh, lips lingering there as he rode his way through to a ravished, barren Nirvana.

His orgasm still tingling about his flesh and his mind washed with a pleasant glow, Bruce slumped forward, exhausted and utterly drained, Joker collapsing under him. He was panting into Joker's firm chest, the madman's fingers running through his hair with fumbling skill, telling him the clown was no means approaching coherency yet. He threw his body to the side before he even thought about sinking into the bliss of post-climax mist, knowing he'd crush the other man if he stayed where he was. Collapsing into the bedspread at the side of the criminal, he scrambled blindly for the other's hand, not wanting to open his eyes and see the ferocious demons coming to claim him in reality and focused instead on ingraining the acme he'd discovered into his brain, burrowing closer to the heat of the still-convulsing body next to his.

He gripped the man's hand tight, stroking his thumb along the ridges in the worn fingers, pressing his lips lightly against the expanse of flesh of his upper arm and sighed as Joker turned on his side, body curling around Bruce's, slotting together with impeccable simplicity. They were glued in ambrosial inertia, silently delighted, intoxicated on jubilant ripples of lethargy as their limbs slid comfortably together. Bruce looked to the window. Sallow, etiolated light was creeping in, sliming shadows across the floor. A breathy giggle wormed its way through the silence, letting them both know they had to be leaving soon, that this balance was quickly failing them under the commands of the fates. But for now, for the few breaths before the sun rose behind dull clouds, they were contented to hang.

Limp, lifeless and alive.

A/N: WOW. So...that was a little longer than intended. o_o God, this was supposed to be a series of drabbles originally and now I'm puking out ridic long chapters. D: And this was like literally ALL porn. I've never written that much porn before in my life! The sex scene itself is literally over 9000. My fic is the bastard child of an old internet meme. D; Oh dear god. Since it's so long, there are bound to be mistakes that I haven't spotted, even though I've reread it a few times, so if you catch anything embarassing, could you let me know?

Points if you spotted the Inception references. :P I couldn't not include a couple, man, I'm obsessed. xD But if this was Inception, you just know that they'd be each other's totems. It's just fate, dude.

The style of this chapter is a little different from that of previous chapters, but that's because I couldn't write straight up porn in that sort of narrative. Saaahrrry.

Anyway, if you haven't fallen asleep, hope you liked it and it'll be, ah, interesting to see what you made of that. xD