Life is so much better when you're dead

He was given a pair of clean underwear and pants as soon as he got out of the shower, along with a snappy remark concerning his weight loss. He had his wounds disinfected and tended to. He was given no choice whether to stay or go. After all, the thought of leaving never even graced his mind as he was sitting on Joker's bed, sipping cold water from a ceramic cup, waiting for him to leave the bathroom. Nothing was stirring Bruce's state, his breath was calm, his heartbeat solid, balanced, his sight clear and focused. He felt... just right, purified, aware... Alive. The tension was gone, unveiling the presence of something that had been coiling slyly in the back of his mind, now seeping the dark, numbing comfort into his veins. He waited patiently.

The door opened with a creak, followed by soft steps against the wooden floor. Joker stood next to him, his hair hanging in thick, wet strands, dripping with water and sticking to his face. He was buttoning his shirt down lazily, gradually concealing the pale, scarred planes of his body from Bruce's sight, his expression oddly relaxed, but his eyes vivid and corrosive as usual. The madman tucked the shirt in, turned around and walked to the armchair sitting across the room, baring his teeth in a wolfish smile. Bruce watched his slightly slouching posture through half-closed eyelids, completely deadpan as Joker seated himself with his eyes still fixed on the other man. Finally, Bruce raised his eyebrows and gave him a questioning look, an eerie chuckle being his response.

Joker leaned back, smiling, drumming his fingers against the arm rests, but Bruce didn't make a move, remaining on the bed in the same position. A minute of dead silence passed before Joker stood up smacking his lips and cocking his head slightly. Slowly, he walked up to the bed and knelt at Bruce's feet, resting his chin on the man's knees, chewing at the corner of his mouth.

"Better?" he purred. His arms snaked around Bruce's legs, squeezing gently. Bruce gave him a faint, lopsided smirk and placed the cup on the floor, his eyes locked with Joker's unwavering. He studied all the small details of the madman's face, admiring the dissonance between the placid harmony of his features and the caustic threat lingering in his eyes, underneath the layer of some peculiar tenderness. His hand wandered to his temple, brushing away the wet curls, smoothing down and cupping his face in a calm, fluid motion.

Joker lowered his gaze and twitched almost unnoticeably at the touch, slowly easing against the warm hand, tilting his head and exposing more skin for Bruce to caress. Still, Bruce sensed some kind of subcutaneous tension as his fingers wandered across the dimples and puckers of his soft lips, stroked the back of his neck, traced his jaw line. The grip over his legs tightened a little. The madman closed his eyes, seemingly satisfied with the languid petting, but his slightly furrowed eyebrows and his nails digging into Bruce's calves indicated there was something more going on inside him.

He bit at his lower lip when the hand rested on the side of his neck, irritated with how the treacherous veins revealed his quickened pulse. His eyelids lifted. Bruce stared right at him, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly at what he saw. Longing, danger, anxiety, fear. All at once. He slid off the bed without giving it a second thought and straddled the other man's lap, his fingers tightening over his collar, pulling him closer. Enclosing his face in his hands, he felt something creep up from the base of his spine, slowly taking over him. He wanted to see it again.

Joker sucked in a ragged breath at the feel of smooth lips against his neck, scattering perversely affectionate kisses over the most sensitive areas of his skin. Bruce pulled away for a second, gauging the reaction. He had already abandoned every pretension to appear composed, his expression still peaceful but unabashedly carnal at the same time, because he enjoyed what he saw more than anything. Joker was scared.

His hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one without haste, still basking in the other man's growing unease.

"Better," he whispered, his fingers descending down the bared chest, meandering over his ribs, tightening a little when they reached the curve of his waist. His touch wasn't forceful. It wasn't possessive. Yet it made the madman stiffen, it petrified him, even though he seemed to give in voluntarily, not even trying to pull away when Bruce nuzzled his pale flesh, licking, tasting him. The lips sauntered up, finally resting on his own, rendering him completely rigid. Bruce sucked gently before the firm tip of his tongue slid across Joker's mouth, tracing its shape with lewd reverence. It's not like he couldn't control himself. He didn't want to. The response he was getting, the fervid breath, the rapid heartbeat along with the look in his eyes--it was a first. He didn't intend to let it pass, indulging in the opportunity to claim his revenge.

Bruce leaned back a little, his arms still wrapped firmly around Joker's slender waist. He really did enjoy the sight; how the madman clung to his t-shirt and tugged him back, the glistening trails of saliva on his torso that he had left, the playful scold protruding from underneath the unsettlement that veiled his eyes.

"Are you going to give me a taste of my own medicine, or what?" Joker hissed gravelly, his fingers closing in Bruce's hair in a subtle warning.

"That's not what I want to do to you." A dim smirk slithered onto Bruce's face. He crawled off Joker's lap without breaking the contact, his hands smoothing along his sides. "Sit here." He nodded to the bed.

Joker stood up slowly and took a seat with slight hesitation, the tense muscles of his legs relaxing a little at Bruce's touch, his thighs spreading, letting him settle between them as he knelt on the floor, his arms wrapping around the madman's hips. His hands brushed upwards, pressing lightly, resting on his shoulders for a second before slipping the undone shirt off his body. Joker scooted a little towards him. His thighs squeezed Bruce's waist as the sleeves were being tugged off his arms.

Bruce observed with growing satisfaction how his regular breath against the man's skin made him shiver, how his fingertips sliding over the ridges of his hipbones made the muscles of his stomach flex involuntarily. Joker closed his eyes, his eyebrows narrowing. His breath was getting more and more jagged, quickening when Bruce pressed his face to the heaving chest, trailing a line of gentle kisses and stopping underneath his Adam's apple, his lips loitering, sucking. He pulled him even closer, his hips moving lazily against the growing heat between his legs. His hands wandered across the madman's back, his fingers traced the lines of his shoulder blades, slid down the crease of his spine, drifting over the flesh leisurely. He cherished the feel of him, the warm, smooth skin laced with rippled scars, the lean muscles moving underneath it, quivering but compliant.

Bruce looked up with fascination at the subtle contractions of Joker's face. He could sense his fear even though his whole body seemed to yearn for his touch, arching, rubbing gently against him in need of friction, fingers tightening over the dirty sheets. Bruce sat down on his heels, breaking the contact for a moment. He watched Joker open his eyes, his gaze rattled and venomous at once. Rising up to his knees again, his hands ascended up the man's thighs while he leaned onward, nipping at his lower stomach with his teeth. His mouth wandered up to his navel, tongue circling around it before going back down, sneaking beneath his waistband.

Joker gasped when the hand resting on his groin moved languidly over his erection in a massaging manner, fingers cupping him slowly while deft tongue kept lingering in the most sensitive parts of his upper body. His head lolled back. Bruce wrapped his arm around his waist, his fingers sliding down, digging under the fabric of his pants, squeezing the soft flesh, the touch of the other hand growing firmer and more sensual with each second. His thighs spread a little more without his doing, and he leaned back, arching against the moist lips burning into his skin, biting at the rugged insides of his cheeks, the terror plundering his head unable to force his body to cower away from the touch, from the perversely slow tongue that just kept on creeping over him like a worm, savage and sweet all at once, the heat rising, the sensation spreading, making his insides tingle, rendering his muscles useless as he fell on his back, panting, his hips pushing against the meticulous hand.

Bruce pulled away and crawled on top of Joker, wedging his knee between his thighs. He stroked the damp hair gently, smirking at how the madman's eyelids clenched shut, how his lips parted before Bruce lurched down and kissed him. Joker whimpered, rubbing against his leg in a limber, cat-like movement as the warm tongue slipped inside his mouth, snaking around his own in a strangely coy manner. Something began to scream in the back of his mind. The foreign tenderness he was being subject to chafed with everything that he knew and remembered, taking over his body in an onslaught of rending warmth, haunting his fraying thoughts with unprecedented dread. The threat that came with having something...

He didn't dare to look at Bruce despite the coaxing kisses he was scattering over his face. He didn't dare to reach up and pull him closer despite the burning need. He couldn't stand it, but he craved it, he wanted it to end, but he prayed for it to go on and repeat over and over again. It felt like falling into his own snare.

All he could do was writhe as the muscled thigh between his legs was replaced with vile fingers undoing his trousers, sliding in, smoothing over the slicked skin back and forth while the feverish mouth claimed his throat, the tongue pressed against the pulsating veins, licking lasciviously. He clawed desperately at the sheets, his temple pressing to the hard mattress while Bruce's lips wandered down his torso, stopping now and then at the more vulnerable spots, but their destination becoming more and more apparent as the fingers curled over his waistband and pulled his pants down a little. Joker squirmed when the coarse fabric brushed against the delicate flesh. He was still a little sore after what he had done to Bruce, but it didn't diminish the need for contact in the least. He just lay without a move, exposed, waiting, trying to calm his breath in vain.

Bruce knelt in front of him again, his eyes wandering over the rising chest, sliding down the flat planes of his stomach, reveling in the sight of pale skin stretched tightly over his muscles and giving away even the smallest twitch. Joker's eyelids lifted slowly, and their gazes locked.

The madman knew he wasn't able to hide what he felt. He was aware of how it affected Bruce. He winced a little, in awe at the way the other man looked at him with both lust and threat, serene affection fusing into carnality in a seamless manner. Something crawled into his throat, growing as he watched Bruce slink down without taking his eyes off him, his lips parting, ascending up the hardened length, sucking gently, treating every inch with malicious diligence. His tongue slithered out and teased the base of his cock before it slid up in a languid stroke, snaking and swirling around the head repeatedly. Joker groaned breathlessly. The sight of the other man, the morbid fondness in his eyes, the obscenely lewd and gentle way he was savoring him, kissing, licking, sucking... He felt his mind collapse, and all the remaining thoughts whisked away. His body thrashed against the bed in spasms and he wasn't even sure if the litany of obscenities actually left his mouth or if it was just something bellowing inside his head.

He was scared to look down. A wave of electric shocks immobilized him when a slippery finger slowly slid inside, quickly finding his prostate, moving teasingly while the moist, feverish mouth closed around him, snatching the breath out of his lungs. He felt the soft back of Bruce's throat brush against the tip of his cock over and over again. The merciless fingers rubbed more insistently, making him writhe and wail, his hips pushing back, head pressing against the mattress, turning to the side, burrowing into the sheets, his teeth sinking into the soiled cloth and muffling the cries he couldn't control. He couldn't control anything. As his legs tightened around Bruce, he could feel his other arm move, his body rocking gently back and forth in accord with the quick, unceasing rhythm of his mouth and fingers. Joker bit down harder. The knowledge that the other man was masturbating while driving him insane flooded his entire body with agonizing heat. He felt the first, sleazy tingles of an orgasm.

It exploded at the base of his spine, spreading in an upsurge that crawled underneath his skin until it took him all. He coiled and screamed, arms flailing and grabbing at the sheets desperately, almost tearing them apart. He whimpered when he felt Bruce suck him dry and swallow. Shortly, Bruce reached his own release almost without a sound while the backdraft subdued Joker with a wave of aftershocks. Even though it was all over and he just lay down lifelessly, the mouth didn't want to leave his body alone, a wet trail of kisses going up the middle of his torso, each one of them spurring warm tickles. Joker finally dared to open his eyes and faced his oppressor. He just couldn't stand how peaceful he looked, how his head lowered in a sly manner, how the warm lips settled in the crevices of his scarred cheeks, nuzzling and kissing with languid adoration, how they moved over his mouth, coddling it with disturbing sweetness. He felt a growl form in his throat.

Joker sprung up and tackled Bruce over to his back, bestriding him. Clawing fingers pinned the compliant arms to the bed. He bared his teeth in a snarl, plunging down, claiming the source of his growing exasperation, his bloodthirsty tongue pushing all the way down the throat that had sent him over the verge of sanity, biting at the provokingly parting lips, drawing blood but not eliciting a sound, not a twitch. Finally, he pulled away, defeated. The grip over Bruce's wrists weakened, letting his hands slide down slowly, fingers slipping between Joker’s, interlacing. The madman felt the numbing wave of panic engulf him all over again. His eyes fixed on his face, unable to veer away. The corners of Bruce's mouth curled up a little, his upper lip retracting in a victorious smirk, yet his gaze was oddly tender. The fingers tightened.