Sessions One Through Ad Nauseam

Disclaimor/Notes: Yeah, I created Batman 45 years before I was born because I knew that one day hotty supremo Cillian Murphy would be playing Dr. Crane in the totally awesome "Batman Begins". More kisses to David S. Goyer for giving me Hannibal King and Dr. Crane in less than a year.

Warning: Now I don't like doing individual chapter warnings ('cause I don't want to spoil people for those chapters) but expect light to moderate levels of BDSM, references to child abuse levels, non-con, sex between a sane and an insane man, and slashy man sex (duh). Also mild het (I know, ew). However the biggest warning is that this has not been graced with the fair hand of a beta and therefore may be riddled with mistakes that my tired eyes missed.


"Sessions One Through Ad Nauseam"
"Session One"

Batman flipped the Joker card effortlessly in between his fingers as he drove slowly—for the Tumbler—back home. What Sergeant, no, Lieutenant Gordon had told him on the rooftop of the police station less than thirty minutes ago had been both promising and troubling. Promising because he knew that he had Gordon’s trust and troubling because the next few months or even years would demand much from that trust. It could take a lifetime to clean the Narrows of the criminally insane that had been loosed on it. Thankfully most seemed content to stay in the slums but it was only a matter of time before the patients of Arkham Asylum made their way into the heart of Gotham City.

As the massive black vehicle glided silently back to the burnt remains of Wayne Manor, Batman’s mind shifted unpleasantly from the problems of Gotham to his own personal troubles. He kept hearing the conversation he’d had with Rachel over and over again, but he still couldn’t settle on how he felt about it. He’d been forced to see how much he had changed and not all for the better. However his relief usually outweighed the pain of this discovery. At least now he could postpone the conversation he knew he would have to have with Rachel one day, about how she wasn’t his type and why.

Batman knew rationally that being gay was perfectly normal if rare and completely out of his control, but it would still be embarrassing to have that talk with Rachel on top of everything else that was changing in his life. Other than Alfred the only people that had known were some random but attractive two-bit thieves that he’d met on his travels into the world of crime and Ducard. Ra’s Al Ghul.

Just thinking about Ducard made something in his chest twist painfully. They hadn’t been lovers, even on those cold nights in the mountains, but there had been subtle hints that maybe someday that could change, after the training made them equals. Bruce had certainly wanted them to be, both equals and lovers, with an intensity he’d thought himself incapable of feeling.

The card slipped from his nimble fingers and he glanced down in surprise. His gaze stalled on the bright blue on the back. It made him think of Dr. Jonathan Crane of all people and Batman scowled at the thought. Letting that skinny doctor escape into the night had been a mistake, whether he’d been wounded or not. Batman loved Rachel, as a sister if not as a woman, but he sometimes treacherously felt as though she should have pursued him. Mad or not, a man with his intellect was very dangerous indeed. Batman had known that the first moment that he’d met the good doctor. The burns were still healing.

Although their second and last meeting had gone more to Batman’s favor. He remembered with an almost smug pride how easily he’d subdued the doctor. The fear in his large eyes had made Batman feel very good indeed, however shameful the feeling was.

Batman was still smiling slightly at the thought of his victory over Dr. Crane when he drove through the waterfall and parked the Tumbler in the cave under Wayne Manor. Alfred was waiting patiently on a raised platform that kept his feet dry with a water bottle in one hand and the portable phone in the other. Batman blessed trusty butlers and turned off the car. He leapt out, his cape swirling about dramatically, and strode towards Alfred, pulling his mask off as he went. He thought he saw something gray move in the corner of his eye but Alfred spoke before he could wonder about it.

“The contractor insists on speaking with you, Master Bruce, as soon as you’re able.” Alfred handed Batman the water bottle immediately and then the phone after Bruce had taken a healthy swig. Wearing the suit made him sweat bullets. At the rate he was going through water bottles he might as well buy the company.

“I told him that you had nothing further to add to the specifications, but he’s still harping on about the reinforced foundation. He doesn’t see why it’s necessary.”

“Meaning he wants more money.” Bruce chuckled at Alfred’s nod. “I’ll handle him. What’s for supper?”

“I believe Pizza Hut as it’s running a two for one special. I’ll see to it immediately.” Alfred turned towards the new exit from the cave, stairs that Bruce had been working on for the past week that led to the garden. They would both be glad when the construction was finished so that they could fix the elevator without worrying that someone would stumble into Batman’s lair.

“I promise we’ll work on the kitchen next week!” Bruce shouted after the older man and began working his suit off, dialing the contractor’s number at the same time.

Again he thought he saw a glimpse of something gray before the cracked voice of Gotham City’s highest paid contractor came on the phone and distracted him.


* * *


“That’s the last time I burn down my own house in a fit of drunken rage,” Bruce said to Alfred as they descended once more down to the cave under the mansion. Alfred made a discrete gesture to his mouth in response and Bruce licked his lips lightly, tasting the sauce from his pizza.

“That seems like an impeccable idea as I might not be able to save your life next time.”

“Did I say thank you for that yet?”

“I’m sure I don’t recall, sir.” The small smirk that Bruce had only recently been able to spot was on Alfred’s face, making the billionaire grin crookedly at him in return.

“Expect a nice Christmas bonus next--,” Bruce began and then cut himself off abruptly as he approached his work bench. He picked up a pair of pliers and spoke quietly to Alfred, “Someone’s been in here.”

“Are you certain?” They had made every precaution to keep the scores of construction workers from finding the cave but the fear of discovery had haunted them since the building had begun.

“Positive. These have been moved.” Bruce gestured to Alfred with the pliers. He scanned the cave, his keen senses picking up what he’d been too busy to notice before. “And whoever it was is still here.”

Bruce saw a quick movement near the waterfall and he was off like a speeding bullet. His hand encircled a gangly gray-clad arm before he pulled Dr. Crane back through the waterfall and twisted him around, forcing the smaller man to his knees in front of him. The mad scientist was soaked through his Arkham straight jacket and shivering compulsively, both from the cold and his obvious fear. Bruce stared at Crane for a shocked moment before yelling back to Alfred, “Get out of here! Go call the cops.”

“Oh, that doesn’t seem like a very good idea, Batman.” Crane’s voice was soft and shaky but very clear. Both Alfred and Bruce froze, the latter with his hand still bruising Crane’s thin wrist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Crane,” Bruce said in the same blustering tone of arrogance he’d been using since his return to Gotham, but inside he was anything but confident. Crane had obviously seen him change and would have been more than crazy not to notice the Batman paraphernalia in the cave.

“I may be crazy, Batman,” Crane said, reading his mind, “but I’m not stupid. I knew you were Batman when I came to visit your little bat cave under Wayne Manor. It’s very clever, although not particularly well-hidden.”

“How did you know?” The question was said in the low growl of Batman, looking strangely appropriate on the billionaire playboy’s face.

Crane’s answer was a low chuckle paired with a disarming grin on his face as he ran his free hand through wet hair, looking at Bruce through hooded eyes.

Bruce slammed the doctor against the nearest wall. Crane’s thin body trembled furiously under the weight of the larger man. “Tell me!”

“Ra’s Al Ghul told me to keep a close eye on you, Mr. Wayne. I didn’t think it was to be appalled at your social life. Besides who else would have the resources and the reason to pull off the Batman persona. Anyone with half a brain would know it was you.” Crane was still shaking dramatically but his voice was surprisingly calm, a sharp change from the last time he’d spoken to Batman. Bruce wondered for the first time why Crane wasn’t displaying his previous signs of dementia.

“I knew we should have built a wall behind the waterfall. I told you that any sort of rubbish could just wander in,” Alfred said from behind the other men.

“Go upstairs, Alfred, and wait for me,” Bruce ordered his butler. While he didn’t think that Crane posed Alfred any immediate threat he didn’t want to risk the older man breathing in any of the Scarecrow’s gas. Obviously calling the police was out of the question for a time.

Crane watched Alfred leave, a satisfied grin still on his lean face. Bruce watched Crane instead, noting the fading burns on his face and the almost bruises under his eyes. Bruce also noted, mostly on the side, that Crane’s eyes were an alarming and impossible shade of blue behind the small glasses he was wearing and realized why the card had reminded him of the doctor.

The smile faded as Alfred did and Crane reluctantly turned his face back towards Bruce. The professional look and tone he’d been perfecting a moment ago crumbled immediately. Crane nearly lunged at Bruce to grab his shirt and croak out brokenly, “Help me.”

“You seemed like you were doing just fine a moment ago, Crane.” Bruce ripped Crane’s frail fingers off of his shirt and yanked his hands above his head. Bruce loomed in even closer. “Why should I help you instead of sticking you in the deepest darkest corner of my Batcave and leaving you to rot?”

“Because you help people. That’s what you do. I figured out a way to counter the hallucinogen for short periods of time but I don’t have the resources to find a cure.” Crane struggled briefly to get free from Bruce’s grasp before falling limply back against the cool rock of the cave. “I was exposed to the toxin for too long. I try, but I can’t fight back the Scarecrow for long.”

“Why are you even trying?” Bruce was genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s my mind,” Crane spit out. “I won’t lose it to a drug.”

“It was your drug, Crane. I’d say that it’s poetic justice.” Bruce grinned darkly.

“I know your identity. I’ll tell everyone,” Crane threatened, his eyes flashing at Bruce’s amusement.

“You’ll tell no one.” Bruce lifted on of his hands briefly to gesture backwards to the cave surrounding them. “This just became your new home.”

“You can’t keep me here!”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Somebody might actually listen to you and everything I’ve worked for will mean nothing.”

“So I’ll stay here,” Crane said, his voice taking on a definite note of desperation. Bruce decided that he liked hearing it. “But help me. I’ll do anything.”

“Sorry, I don’t need a shrink,” Bruce said casually.

“I’d argue that, but I wasn’t referring to my psychological skills.” Crane licked his lips, drawing attention to the fact that they were full and soft-looking, and his eyes ran over Bruce’s body from behind his glasses. Bruce didn’t remember Crane wearing glasses when he’d seen him before, but they definitely made him look alluring as he peeked up at Bruce over them.

Bruce suddenly realized how close they were and released the doctor, pulling away with a sudden feeling of unease. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were going.

“I discovered at an early age that I excelled in at least one physical sport.” Crane erased the distance between them and boldly caressed the front of Bruce’s cargo pants. Bruce grabbed his hands once again in an iron grip, feeling the shock from his brief touch vibrate through his entire body. To Bruce’s shock and dismay he could feel himself hardening from just that small contact.

It had really been too long since he’d last been laid.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bruce growled, resisting the urge to shake the doctor until his teeth rattled.

“That seems obvious to me but I do have a doctorate. You never finished college, did you, Batman?” Crane slid against Bruce, caressing him with his lean body while his hands remained trapped. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t want my mouth wrapped around your cock?”

The filthy words, said in the same proper tone as his insult had been, sent a wave of intense desire screaming through Bruce’s body as his cock responded to being talked about by hardening almost completely.

Bruce let go of Crane’s hands yet again and grabbed him by his dark wet hair. He forced Crane to his knees, reveling in his choked cries of pain. Bruce made sure his voice was even but he could hear the tension loudly, “You really are crazy, Crane. I don’t want anything of yours near me.”

“This says otherwise,” Crane said through gritted teeth, his fingers snaking over Bruce’s obvious erection. Bruce hissed at the faint touch, his hand tightening in Crane’s hair. Crane finally cried out fully, his face contorting in pain. Bruce watched, mesmerized. He hurt so damn pretty.

Bruce couldn’t stop himself from pulling the doctor back up and slamming his mouth over his. Crane’s lips were as soft as they looked and still wet from the waterfall. Bruce tasted them hungrily, feeling himself lost to the sensation of taking. Crane’s lean hands fluttered desperately to Bruce’s firm chest as he struggled to hold on against the onslaught but it was hopeless. Bruce forced his tongue into Crane’s mouth, groaning at the heat and the clever tongue that was there to greet him. It was the first time since he’d met Crane that he appreciated his mouth.

After a few moments of laying claim to Crane’s mouth Bruce had to pull away for air. The doctor gasped in front of him, Crane’s longish hair covering his eyes as his head was finally released.

The hand was back in his hair a second later, forcing Crane once more to his knees. Crane looked up at the glowering billionaire with no small amount of fear and Bruce knew that he was regretting his offer. That was really just too bad.

“Convince me that you’re sincere,” Bruce said, more calmly than he felt. Parts of him were still murmuring no for a thousand reasons all beginning and ending with Crane being a psychotic criminal but more important parts were screaming yes.

Crane licked his lips again, causing Bruce to groan, and he nodded obediently. That small action aroused Bruce more than anything else.

Slowly, so slowly, Crane unzipped Bruce’s pants and pulled him out. He looked faintly surprised at the lack of undergarments but the sight of Bruce’s large cock soon proved more interesting. He gave the underside of the member an experimental lick, his long tongue sliding across a pulsing vein.

Bruce jerked involuntarily and his fingers tightened again near Crane’s scalp.

“Quit fucking around, Crane,” Bruce snarled.

“There’s no appreciation anymore for a proper demonstration of talent,” Crane muttered coolly but instantly obeyed. Bruce watched in amazement as his cock slid completely into the doctor’s mouth. Bruce moaned, the liquid heat surrounding his sensitive flesh compounded with that underhanded little tongue busily licking what it could made him feel almost dizzy. He realized that he wasn’t going to last any impressive length of time, not with Crane looking up at him innocently over those glasses and his high cheekbones even more defined as he sucked voraciously on Bruce.

Bruce began thrusting desperately into Crane’s mouth, nearly pulling the dark hair out in order to skull-fuck him properly. Crane took it in a stride, although he did seem to be having some small difficulties managing to keep up with Bruce’s frantic movements.

Finally Bruce came with a sharp cry, harder than he’d ever come in his life. It seemed to last for an eternity with Crane’s mocking blue eyes as his inspiration. When Bruce finally released Crane, the doctor collapsed to the ground, although he was mindful to let Bruce out slowly. Crane swallowed heavily, breathing deeply as he watched Bruce put himself back into his pants.

“Not bad,” Bruce said. A vast understatement to be sure.

“Now will you help me?” Crane asked, still insolent even in his pleading.

Bruce stared down at the lean man, taking in the fact that he seemed completely unaffected by their activities. The billionaire sighed heavily.

“No,” he said after a time and grabbed the doctor by the arm once again. He yanked a shocked Crane over to the raised platform that he placed Rachel on a lifetime ago. He took the chains he’d been using to hold together one of Fox’s shipments and wrapped them tightly around Crane. When he thought they were secure he looped another chain through the first sets and padlocked it to a nearby support beam.

Bruce stepped back and admired his prisoner. Crane looked good tied up. He’d have to remember that.

“I’ll be back later,” Bruce promised, patting Crane’s shoulder companionably.

“You bastard, we had a deal! You owe me, Batman!” Crane shouted as Bruce turned and walked away.

Bruce found himself whistling a merry tune as he made his way up the stairs to his house. Somehow, despite the guilt he knew would take over later, he felt a whole lot better about the world.

It was probably from the great blow job.


* * *


Crane screamed obscenities and threats after Bruce until he decided that they weren’t doing him any good besides hurting his already sore throat. It matched his sore jaw. He’d done a hell of a lot better than ‘not bad’. All for nothing. He was more a prisoner here than he’d been at Arkham. At least there they would have let him read or watch TV. Batman had left him with only bats for entertainment.

Not that Crane was worried about being bored. As he watched with growing fear the sun began to rise and he could feel the toxin he’d injected into himself at sunset starting to wear off.

The shaking fits he’d been experiencing for the past few hours was an unfortunate side-effect that he’d learn to live with since he’d created the new serum. However the shakes began to intensify until the chains were rattling fiercely. Soon the pain started.

He had been desperate to find a cure for his ailment, mixing every drug that could possibly help him and several that couldn’t because the part of him that was the Scarecrow enjoyed experimentation. His current blend was the best out of the bunch, lasting nearly a whole half-day and nearly eradicating his mental instability.

However it had one hell of a kick coming off.

Crane screamed wordlessly, his sore head smacking against the stone table under him with a wet crack. The pain was consuming, a fire that spread through every vein, licking and devouring his raw nerves until every motion was agony, down to every last breath and blink. Crane tried in vain to keep from sobbing as the pain merged with the wild panic his original serum produced. He screamed at the shadows that reached for him from the darkest parts of the caves and bats stirred uneasily, a group of small but vicious demons to his eyes.

Crane tried desperately to find focus, to reach inward to the quiet part of his mind that was still unaffected by the drug but his distress from Bruce’s rejection mixed with the original panic and pain proved too much for him. He shrieked for Batman to come save him or to kill him and all he could hear in response was his father’s mocking voice:

“Honestly, Jonathan, there’s no need to carry on so. It can’t possibly hurt that much.”

Crane’s screams were mixed with laughter as he realized that he’d finally found something that he feared more than his father and the old bastard still wasn’t impressed.

He should have had him killed slower.