Balancing the Scales

Balancing the Scales

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: This is a sequel to "To Settle a Bet" which was a sequel to "Good Help". There was a brief period of time when I owned everything but I sold it all for textbook money. Come back, Dr. Crane! I still don't have a name for this series and it's still unbetaed, but Shanyle L wrote me up and told me I should write the next story, like, two weeks ago. So here it is. But once again everybody should blame this on Sbbo. Curse her lovely brilliance! Curse it!

“I can’t believe that you let Harvey talk you into his rehabilitation scheme.” Rachel had that quirky half-smile on her face as she speared a head of broccoli and brought it to her lips, taking a small delicate bite.

“Are you going to eat that?” Bruce asked, gesturing with his knife towards Rachel’s large and mostly untouched filet mignon.

“Don’t change the subject!” Amusement tinged her tone despite her words and she pushed the plate over the table to him.

Bruce dove into the meat with relish, happy once again that he’d bought this particular hotel and its superb restaurant. He was also pleased that he’d finally gotten an opportunity to eat with his old friend, although she seemed determined to scold him the entire time. Her constant mothering was probably payback for all those years he’d spent playing nasty pranks on her as a child. However knowing that he deserved it didn’t make it any more pleasant to sit through.

“Don’t be a nag, Rach, I think it was a great idea. Helping the helpless and all that. It’s right up your alley.” Bruce hid the smirk that wanted to spread across his face at the thought of his contribution to the program. He hadn’t been able to stop whistling since yesterday.

“The Scarecrow is not helpless.” Rachel stabbed another piece of broccoli, gesturing with it as she spoke. “I don’t know how you can stand being alone with him all day long. He still gives me the creeps.”

It was now a bit painful to hide his smirk but Bruce managed it with his highly trained willpower. “He’s been on his best behavior. I’m getting a lot done.”

I’ll get even more done today, his brain gloated. He choked a bit on his meat.

“Wow, chew a little bit. Here.” Rachel hastily handed him a glass of water. He took a deep drink, letting himself grin into the glass before his face split apart. Rachel stared at him, her pretty face squinty with concern.

“The stupid playboy routine doesn’t work on me, Bruce. I mean,” she paused and looked around to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping before she continued, “I know that you can take care of yourself, but Crane’s smarter than most of those kooks. Just be careful.”

“Scout’s honor,” Bruce said flippantly, but he let enough seriousness flood into his eyes to reassure Rachel. Partially satisfied she leaned back into her seat, now appearing a little curious.

“So when’s he going to show up for work?”

“After lunch. Apparently he had recreational time this morning.” Bruce felt the thrumming excitement start to build up in his body.

“I bet he builds the best clay asylums in the whole group,” Rachel said cattily, finally eating that last bit of green.

Bruce snorted. “Still mad about him almost killing you, huh?”

“Yeah, a little.”


* * *


Anybody watching Bruce Wayne as he sat behind his expensive imported desk would have thought he was just bored, as befitted his woolly-headed drunken billionaire image. It had gotten him out of more work than he could remember without blanching. A point in Crane’s favor was that he had gotten the CEO to actually show up to his own company for three days in a row.

The speaker on his right beeped and then informed him perkily, “Sir, Dr. Crane is here.”

“All right, send him up.” Bruce leaned back in his chair, his mask of boredom momentarily replaced with an expression of devilish glee before he covered it up once more.

Yesterday he’d gotten a little carried away. He’d descended on Crane like a horny schoolboy with an itch and left him hanging to see the look of outrage on his pretty face, just to hurt him a little more. The whole day had been very cathartic for the Batman side of him. Today he would let himself be Bruce Wayne, a man used to indulging in the finer aspects in life. He’d allow himself to wallow in Jonathan’s beauty, to explore his body and show the doctor that he wasn’t just an animal.

Then he planned on fucking Crane against a wall until he screamed.

After all, the good doctor was here for his benefit, not the other way around.

The large oak door opened silently, admitting a suited Jonathan Crane with a serene expression on his face. Missing was any hint that he was angry with Bruce over what had happened yesterday, as well as the coy seductive smile he’d worn before. In their place was the coolly professional look of the man who had once been the head doctor of Arkham Asylum.

Also missing were Crane’s spectacles. Bruce had rescued them last night from the janitor, but he had no intention on giving them back, not as broken and mangled as they were. It didn’t match the rest of Jonathan’s attire at all.

“Mr. Wayne,” Jonathan greeted him, a polite freeze in his low voice.

Bruce shrugged mentally at Jonathan’s attitude. If that was how the doctor wanted to play it, then he’d see how good Bruce Wayne was at thawing out pretty little ice princesses.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Crane. Take a seat, we’ve got lots of work to do,” Bruce said in a booming voice, every inch the casual and friendly billionaire. He was impressed that Jonathan didn’t even raise an eyebrow at his performance.

“Of course, sir.” Jonathan offered up a thin smile and slid gracefully behind his desk. He settled himself under Bruce’s hungry eyes and finally glanced up. “What would you like me to do?”

Suck my brains out again with that mouth of yours, Bruce thought, but replied by tossing the man a large stack of files.

“Sort these, file them, and we’ll see what we can squeeze in after that.”

Jonathan didn’t even blink. “As you wish, sir.”


* * *

Jonathan had barely been sorting for twenty minutes and he was obviously ready to shove them down Bruce’s throat despite his best attempts to hide his frustration. He was squinting at one paper, his eyebrows almost forming a perfect ‘V’ before he held it out at arm’s length. His lush mouth was moving silently over the words as he attempted to read them.

Bruce stifled a chuckle and got up, stretching with a loud, lusty yawn. Jonathan doggedly ignored him as the billionaire walked over to his desk and stood behind him. Bruce could almost feel the tension radiating from that lean back as Jonathan continued to pretend that he wasn’t right there.

“Having problems, Jonathan?” It was the first time he’d used the doctor’s name and it sent shockwaves running through him.

“Of course not, sir,” Jonathan muttered, still staring at the paper.

A moment paused and then Jonathan sighed.

“I’m just having some difficulty reading this absurdly small print.”

Bruce tilted his head and leaned forward, letting one hand fall on Jonathan’s shoulder in a companionable way while the other ghosted up his arm to the document.

“Looks pretty big to me,” Bruce murmured, sending hot puffs of air skimming across Jonathan’s neck and ear.

The doctor shivered. Just a bit, but it was enough.

“Perhaps we have different ideas of what constitutes big.” Jonathan stressed the last word, his lips caressing it in a carnal way. He turned his head so that he was half-facing Bruce.

A wider smirk spread across the billionaire’s face. “I doubt it.”

Then he was collecting Jonathan’s chin in one hand and kissing him. It was gentle, with just the barest hint of tongue flicking out to taste soft parted lips. He let it continue that way for an immeasurable amount of time, exploring patiently, before pulling back.

Jonathan blinked at him in a dazed fashion before regaining his cool expression. Bruce made it falter as he carefully straightened Jonathan’s tie. He heard the doctor’s breath catch a little and wondered how he would have reacted if Bruce had tightened it around his slender neck.

But that would have to be an experiment for another day. Today was for being nice.

“I thought they wouldn’t let you wear a tie.” Bruce continued to play with the end of the silk tie, admiring the crimson color against his tanned hand. He wondered how it would look against Crane’s pale skin with nothing else to accompany it, and his cock jerked a little.

“Mr. Dent loaned it to me.” Jonathan’s long eyelashes fluttered down for a moment in feigned shyness.

“That’s Harvey for you. Always a giver.”

“Oh, yes.” Bright blue eyes peered up at Bruce as a ghost of a smirk flitted across Jonathan’s wicked mouth. “He’s been very obliging.”

Bruce frowned as he dissected and finally dismissed the implications behind that statement. Harvey wouldn’t fool around with a loony like Crane, no matter how pretty he was or how great a phone voice he had.

Only Bruce Wayne would be stupid enough to do that.

“Why don’t you take a break from sorting and I can show you the supply closet.” Bruce kept his tone friendly and casual but he could hear a tinge of his excitement slip in. He supposed it would be too much to ask that the psychiatrist wouldn’t have heard it as well.

Those eyelashes sank down again in a picture of polite reluctance. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time, sir.”

Bruce finally released Jonathan’s tie, letting it slip through his fingers before he caressed along one of the fine cheekbones facing him. He idly wondered if Jonathan was allowed to shave in the asylum or if his skin was always so smooth.

“I think I’ve been working hard enough,” Bruce said after a long moment. “I deserve a break.”

He unleashed the rolling grin that had melted scores of exotic supermodels and at least a couple district attorneys. Jonathan barely blinked and didn’t react at all to the fingers running down his face.

“If you say so, sir.”


* * *


Bruce sampled Jonathan’s soft lips a few more times before they reached the large room that served as the billionaire’s personal supply closet. Jonathan had born the attention with the same cool politeness he’d shown all afternoon, but made no effort to dissuade Bruce.

“Ta-da!” Bruce threw open the door to the supply closet with flourish and gestured Jonathan ahead of him. Even though he could only see the doctor’s sublime backside, he knew that one of those dark eyebrows was arching at the sight before him.

“I wasn’t aware that a bed qualified as office equipment,” Jonathan said, a hint of actual amusement in his dry voice.

“I get tired making so many big decisions all day. I need a place to relax.” Bruce moved behind Jonathan, sliding his hands around lean hips and pressing his lips to the sweet skin on the back of the doctor’s neck. He placed lazy kisses across the bottom of Jonathan’s hairline, each nipping caress a test of the man’s sensitivity. He struck gold when he licked right where Jonathan’s right ear met the curve of his jaw and Jonathan shivered.

“Your idea of relaxation seemed different yesterday,” Jonathan murmured.

“Mmmmm, yesterday was fun.” Bruce bit the ear nearest to him, a sharp nip that was foreign from his languid kisses. He licked over the area soothingly when Jonathan jerked and then Bruce moved a hand from Jonathan’s hip to the front of his dark slacks. There he proceeded to caress the doctor through the fabric, slow and even strokes that caused every muscle pressed against Bruce’s chest to tighten.

“But today I want something a little more…mutual,” Bruce continued, sending his other hand up to Jonathan’s chest. He found the buttons of the too-large jacket with ease and began undoing them.

“Whatever you desire, boss.” Jonathan arched his spine, pressing his shoulders against Bruce’s chest as the hand continued to move in measured strokes up and down his growing erection.

“Good boy.” Bruce let some of yesterday’s growl slip into his voice as he finished unbuttoning Jonathan’s jacket. Still he turned the doctor around with the utmost care, kissing him as though they were actual lovers. He slid the jacket off of thin shoulders and let it fall to the ground, soon followed by Crane’s strange brown pullover, white dress shirt, and undershirt.

Bruce cocked an amused eyebrow. “Do you get cold easy?”

“I like layers,” Jonathan said, his eyes hooded with desire and contempt.

“Me too.” Bruce grinned wolfishly, but there was an edge back in his voice that he couldn’t shake right away. He pulled Jonathan to him for another kiss, still gentle but with more passion and heat. Jonathan kissed him back for the first time that day, biting at his lips and sucking on Bruce’s tongue in his mouth.

Jonathan’s hands made their way up to tangle in Bruce’s shirt as Bruce ran his hands over the warm skin now exposed to him. The doctor was every bit as skinny as he looked, with sharp hipbones peeking out over his loose slacks but he felt solid rather than bony under Bruce’s palms. He felt damned good.

“On the bed.” Bruce pulled away long enough to whisper the command before being drawn into another searing kiss. He finally stepped back, his eyes dark and almost twinkling.

Jonathan didn’t look cool any longer, half-naked and breathing heavily, his own pale eyes sharp as he watched Bruce. The doctor had the eyes of a predator despite having the perfect body of prey. Bruce felt something other than lust respond to that hard stare. He knew that if Jonathan could, he would have Bruce on his knees.

Bruce was genuinely sorry to disappoint him.

“Take your pants off.” Bruce kept his commands light. He would be kind if Jonathan resisted. He still had enough self-control left for a little more seduction.

That theory didn’t have to be tested when Jonathan sat down on the edge of the bed and began removing his shoes and socks. It wasn’t a bed by Wayne Manor standards, as it lacked bedposts and Egyptian cotton, but it was still quite spacious with dark blue sheets and more pillows than a Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

Bruce crossed the room and stopped Jonathan when he reached for the top button of his slacks. Their eyes met, one predator acknowledging another, and Bruce popped the button open. Jonathan let Bruce remove his pants, rising up slightly so that the fabric could be eased off. Underneath he was naked, his cock hard and dripping.

“Naughty,” Bruce teased. He took that thick cock in hand before Jonathan could respond and grinned when a muffled cry escaped past his pretty lips.

He managed to coax a few more stifled moans out of the doctor before he paused, his fingers curling around the base of Jonathan’s cock and squeezing. Jonathan jerked again, a long shudder that straightened his spine before depositing him forward. His hair, longer than it’d been before his incarceration, brushed against Bruce’s arm as Jonathan lowered his head towards the hand circling his erection.

Blue eyes showing a hint of the mania that the doctor still possessed flitted up to Bruce when he continued not to move his hand. Bruce grinned rakishly back down to Jonathan.

If looks could kill.

“I thought you wanted to make this a mutual meeting,” Jonathan said, a sulky note in his voice that was far too beguiling.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Bruce ran a soothing finger across Jonathan’s pouting lips as he released the doctor’s cock. He stepped back and began to undo his tie. He threw it to the side before starting on his own dark blue jacket and dress shirt.

Jonathan watched him undress with a hungry look on his face. Bruce was flattered that he no longer tried to hide his desire, although it would have been hard with a rock-hard dick and skin flushed with arousal. The doctor leaned back, settling himself against the sheets and playing with the end of the tie Bruce had left on him. The image set Bruce back a few moments. Jonathan was laid out on the bed like a buffet, his long limbs spread to accommodate anyone who wanted to taste.

“You look…delectable for a spoiled playboy,” Jonathan murmured. His eyes spanned the broad expanse of Bruce’s muscled chest, his strong arms and shoulders, before traveling down lower, past his hard stomach to the obvious erection that his Armani slacks were helpless to hide. Bruce let his lips dip into a seductive smile at the attention.

“And you look really tasty for a uptight sociopath.” Bruce did away with the rest of his clothes before climbing onto the bed. The mattress dipped under his knees as he approached Jonathan, still spread out on the bed like a naughty centerfold.

Bruce grabbed the tie out of Jonathan’s hands and pulled him up for a hard kiss. It lacked the niceties of before in order for them to bite and suck at each other’s mouths like the rivals they really were. Jonathan took his freed hands and ran them over Bruce’s shoulders and chest, exploring his strong body with almost clinical precision. His clever fingers dipped into the hollow of Bruce’s collarbone and worried over some faint scars on his upper stomach. Obvious burn scars.

“Whatever do you do in your spare-time to receive such ugly scars?” Jonathan breathed the question into the shell of Bruce’s ear as the billionaire broke from his mouth and moved down to the long stretch of skin between Jonathan’s chin and shoulder.

“I forgot my safeword,” Bruce lied easily, suspecting that the doctor wouldn’t believe him but deciding not to care. It wasn’t like Bruce could tell him the truth.

You set me on fire, you little shit. Wanna kiss it and make it better?

Apparently Bruce didn’t have to ask him. Jonathan craned his neck down to place an almost tender kiss on the wound before licking the skin around it in long strokes, forcing Bruce to find some other part of the doctor to play with. He discovered the hand that Jonathan wasn’t using to grip Bruce’s hip and began sucking those long fingers into his mouth.

Jonathan moaned slightly against Bruce’s skin, his licks becoming bites before sliding down lower on Bruce’s body. Bruce stopped him before that wicked mouth could touch his cock, releasing the doctor’s fingers in order to grab his shoulders and push him away.

“Not this time, Jonathan.” Again saying the name sent fissures of pleasure running down Bruce’s body. From the heated look on Jonathan’s face, he felt them too.

Bruce ran his fingers across Jonathan’s lips, wishing foolishly for the first time that he’d met the doctor before the world had gone completely insane. They might not have gotten along like a safe, normal couple, but it would have been a hell of a ride.

“You had enough of this foreplay crap yet?” Bruce asked.

“God, yes!” Jonathan chuckled at his own excitement, an honest sound that went straight to Bruce’s cock. The smaller man laid himself down on the bed, offering himself once more to whoever was brave enough to take him.

“How do you want me?” An evil grin over a slight pause. “Sir?”

It took some thought. The thought of having Jonathan on his hands and knees as Bruce drove into him was quite attractive, but then Bruce wouldn’t be able to watch his face when the doctor finally fell apart. Which he would before Bruce was done with him.

“I like you like this,” Bruce decided, leaning over the bed to grab his pants and the lubrication he’d been confident enough to stick in there before lunch.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the tube as Bruce flipped the lid off. “I’m impressed. I would have thought you were the dry type.”

Bruce slicked his fingers up and laid the container beside him. Then he was leaning forward, covering Jonathan with the heat of his own body and sliding a wet finger into the doctor.

“Maybe next time,” Bruce said, grinning as Jonathan gasped at the finger moving in him, probing and searching. Bruce found what he was looking for with little trouble and the doctor gasped again with a lower timbre. Damn he was good.

The next couple of fingers went without a hitch, despite how tight the good doctor was. Bruce suspected that it’d been a long time since Jonathan had gotten a proper fuck.

It was really a shame, Bruce mused as he watched Jonathan’s face contort with pleasure, his eyes wide, his hair tousled, and his lush mouth twisting under his teeth as he tried to hold back his cries. Jonathan was obviously made for this. He’d definitely missed his calling in life when he’d gotten that degree in psychiatry.

“Are you…,” Jonathan started and then stopped, a violent shudder running through him as Bruce pressed hard on his prostate with one finger while spreading out the other two wide. He continued with some difficulty, “I thought we were done with foreplay.”

“You asking me to fuck you, Jonathan?” Bruce stilled his fingers, wrenching a keening protest from the doctor.

“Tell me that you want me to fuck you and I will.”

Jonathan’s fingers dug into the sheets. To his credit, the doctor didn’t try to move on Bruce’s fingers, still spread wide inside of him. Jonathan’s flushed face was intense as he stared at Bruce.

“I’m not very good at talking dirty if that’s what you want,” Jonathan ground out through gritted teeth.

“You’re not very good at begging,” Bruce corrected. “You’re very good at talking dirty. I was so hard on Monday from your filthy little mouth that I had jerk off in my office before I could get out of my chair. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Is this payback?”

Another loose and easy grin, this time baring too many teeth for it to be believed.

“Absolutely.”

Bruce waited, his fingers pressed near Jonathan’s prostate. He let them brush against that sensitive nub with Jonathan’s breathing, which sped up at the sensation.

Jonathan let himself break first. “All right! I want you to fuck me.”

His own lips twisted around a sadistic smile, looking more like the Scarecrow than Dr. Jonathan Crane.

“I want you to fuck me so hard that everybody will know I’ve been fucked by someone merciless.”

That allowed Bruce to break, already so close to the edge that he wouldn’t have been able to wait much longer anyway despite his calm demeanor.

“I love being the boss.” Bruce laughed low with his words and slid his fingers out of Jonathan to an agonized yelp. He retrieved the lube from the sheets and spread a generous amount on his throbbing erection. Then he was spreading Jonathan’s legs some more and sliding his cock in.

It was a million clichés all hitting him at once as he worked his way into the slick opening. Hotter, tighter, better than anything he’d ever felt before. He knew that if he was capable of comparison that he might be able to think of somebody that felt as good as Jonathan Crane but then he’d have to add in how absolutely fuckable the doctor looked as Bruce entered him and that would throw the other lover out of the window. His bright blue eyes were locked on Bruce with an almost demonic energy, urging him on and ordering him to make it good. His luscious mouth was open, mouthing insults and praise that he knew better than to say aloud. At least until Bruce starting moving in earnest.

Then the words were spilling out with reckless abandon. “God, so fucking good, you fucking lazy prick, ah, do it harder, yes, oh, you lousy bastard, uhhh, don’t stop or I’ll fucking kill you!”

The threat was followed by Jonathan’s teeth in Bruce’s shoulder, provoking a loud shout from the billionaire before he reached down and grabbed the doctor’s legs. He pressed them up to what had to be painfully close to Jonathan’s chest and thrust harder. Jonathan threw his head back onto the bed and howled, a faint bit of blood showing on his white teeth.

“Is this what you were asking for?” Bruce asked in broken gasps as he hammered into the doctor’s eager body. He had to be hurting Jonathan, as hard and fast as he was moving, his hands forcing Jonathan’s knees nearly against his collarbone but if anything it only burned the doctor up more.

“Yes!” It was the triumphant shout of the Scarecrow as the criminal sent his hand between their bodies to his trapped erection, slipping and sliding around it with little finesse.

Those blue eyes were on Bruce again, a definite insane gleam lighting them up even more. “Fucking hurt me, Bruce!”

Hearing his name in that caramel voice, crazed with desire and insanity, sent Bruce careening over the edge. All thoughts of giving the doctor a love bite to match the one bleeding on Bruce’s shoulder exploded along with everything else as Bruce came hard, tossing Jonathan’s hand off of his cock with his wild bucks.

He only spent a moment thinking of how Jonathan almost looked disappointed before Bruce was pulling out and dropping down the bed to the doctor’s hard cock. Then that vaguely irritated expression turned schizophrenically into feral pleasure as Bruce took Jonathan’s dick into his mouth and sucked hard.

“Oooooh, yes, sir!”


* * *


“Tomorrow, of course, you’ll have to get a little more work done,” Bruce told Jonathan sternly as Lucius Fox watched the two from the door of Bruce’s office with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, sir, of course. I apologize for my problems today. I assure you that I’ll work harder tomorrow.” Jonathan wasn’t looking up from the submissive stance he’d taken up as soon as Fox had appeared to take him downstairs.

Bruce smiled tolerantly at him across his desk, every inch the fair but tough businessman. “I’m sure that you will.”

The Scarecrow’s eyes flashed on him for a brief moment, amusement and anger twining together around desire, before he turned and walked out of the office with Fox.

Bruce watched him go, noting the slight awkwardness in Jonathan’s normally smooth gait.

With a contented sigh Bruce leaned back into his chair, running Jonathan’s tie through his fingers slowly. Oh, yeah. He was good.

Tomorrow was going to kick ass. Preferably the one belonging to Jonathan Crane.