Fan Fiction ❯ Take Me To Bed ❯ Take Me To Bed ( One-Shot )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

~Take Me To Bed~

He'd always known that someday it would come down to this.

Two dark men, tensed and pushed to the limits of their brains. One armed and the other wishing it had been reversed.

Silence stilled the air of the bedroom, freezing them both in a stare-down that could only bode horror.

Bruce Wayne felt a rush of anger as the click of a gun being readied smashed into his senses. It was a sound that represented the violation of his last sanctuary in the cruel world he'd been born into. His house was safe, his bedroom a carefully controlled stage. The Joker should not be here.

His fists tightened at his sides. . .

"Are you surprised to see me?" a gleefully teasing voice asked, slipping out between ruby lips. "You really shouldn't be."

Play stupid. Make him leave.

"Frightened would be a better term to use," Bruce answered, putting on his facade yet again.

"Oh, phooey!" Joker exclaimed, his lips curling upward. He began to laugh, his free hand covering his forehead in a gesture meant to emphasize his amusement. "You *are* the tenacious one, aren't you?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Joker...?"

"Shut up!" the clown snapped, gesturing aggressively with the pistol. "I'm not as filled to the brim with gullibility as all your socialite friends, BATMAN! Don't think for a moment you can convince me otherwise!"

There was a long pause afterward. The two men mentally dissected each other, neither even so much as breathing.

"What do you want, Joker?"

This time the voice was hard... metallic.

It sent a shiver of joy throughout his enemy's lithe body.

Two thin eyebrows rose on the Joker's forehead as his face changed again. "That's more like it, Bats. Now that we're on an equal level, I'd like to talk to you about something... Something... important." He took a few cautious steps forward, narrowing his green eyes protectively. "And before you lash out at me..." He came to a stop right in front of Bruce, smiling with closed lips. He changed his path then, walking around to the back of his arch nemisis. As he did so, the point of his gun was thrust under Bruce's chin and run along the skin of his throat. "...remember that your pet bird is still missing."

The Bat inside Gotham's most elusive bachelor cringed and shook angrily, wanting nothing more than to sink his fist into...

Joker leaned in and whispered into Bruce's ear, "What *are* you thinking about, Bats? Must be something interesting... You have yet to threaten me."

Just as a response formed on Batman's tongue, he felt two thin arms creep around his waist and meet over his stomach. The gun's hilt pressed into his gut, depressing the thick wool sweater. A hot gush of breath on his neck told him something about this situation was very different.

"I'll ask again," he growled. "What do you want? And where are you keeping Rob-"

He was cut off by a sharp shushing noise as the arms on his stomach jerked him backward. "Don't talk about the bird. That's not what I'm here for."

Batman closed his eyes and composed himself. It was obvious that the madman was going to play the game his way tonight... no questions asked. And without his belt or protective suit, Bruce was hardly a match for the Joker's gun.

"What are you here to talk about, then, Joker?" His voice demanded an answer. There would be no mistaking that he meant business with Robin's life in the balance.

"Us," Joker responded simply, his voice decorated with determination. "And anything surrounding that topic." His left hand flattened itself against Batman's stomach, the chilled fingers dipping into the top of his foe's restricting slacks.

"You're insane," Batman hissed through clenched teeth.

"You don't say...?"

"Where's Robin?"

"I'll tell you after you do one... itsy... bitsy... little thing for me."

Batman waited for the demand, fully expecting something atrocious and equally maddening. He felt the Joker's hands pull at his sweater, lifting it inch by inch up his torso.

"Take me to bed."

The Joker's voice was laden with ubridled lust as he finished the sentence. He backed up a step, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Turn around," he demanded. When Batman did as told, he grinned, tilting his head downward. Lowly, he continued, "Do as I ask and I'll never so much as lay a finger on Robin again."

Batman stared at his arch enemy, his stone-eyed face never even twitching. All that was running through his mind was about how much he wanted to strangle that scrawny neck. It would be so very easy.

Joker suddenly reached out, grasping Batman's collar. He slowly retreated, intent on ending up at the sprawling canopy bed nearby. A sudden realization struck the Bat, then. It occured to him that he was completely helpless against the demands of his most deadly of enemies.

Or was it that he....?

No. Of course not. He would never willingly....

Would he?

When the back of Joker's legs touched the mattress, he lifted his head to meet Batman's eyes, one brow rising seductively. "Get on." A simple demand, but one executed with difficulty.

Batman considered his options for a brief second, glancing down at the quilted bed and then up into the Joker's emerald eyes. The clown was deathly serious about this. There was a familiar resolve in his eyes which could never be mistaken for anything else. The Dark Knight finally submitted to the command, moving around Joker while climbing onto the quilt. The whole action was very closely examined and scrutinized.

"Now, sweetheart... I want you lay down on your back and stay there."

This new order was processed and put into action within seconds. Batman was unsure of his reasons behind it... but a deep part of him was tingling with excitement.

Like a starved and raving animal, the Clown Prince followed after his prey, dropping the gun over his shoulder. It hit the floor with a deep clangor of sound, and was forgotten. He licked his lips once, biding his time as he climbed up onto Batman's waist. He settled his knees into the mattress, his light weight resting onto Batman's hips.

There were no words said as curious hands made their way underneath the billionaire's shirt, tenatively forcing it up his thick chest. Joker shifted again, scooting further down Batman's body. He leaned in quickly, closing his eyes as he planted a kiss against the other man's stomach.

Joker was suprised to be greeted by the sound of a rough sigh, and more than eager to hear it again. He stole a glance upward, noting quickly that the Bat had closed his eyes and gripped onto the sheets, both hands tight. Teasingly, he licked across Batman's belly, changing directions and heading upward. Upon reaching an already hardened nipple, he bit down on it.

"Joker!" the Bat growled.

"Mmm?" Innocent eyes rolled up to meet with his unwilling lover's. He crawled up further, bringing the sweater with him. After a brief struggle, it was thrown aside onto the floor, Joker grinning like mad.

But then he paused. There was something in Batman's expression Joker had never seen before. It was chilling the way his eyes bore upward, pleading - - and desperately so - - for more. Without hesitation, the madman returned to his administrations, shifting attention to the face of his most worthy of opponents. A brush of lips against his cheek sent rivers of pleasure down his torso. Quickly he sought out Batman's mouth, closing his own over it ravenously. It was then that he first really got a taste of the forbidden fruit known as Batman, no longer intimidated when warm arms wrapped around his back and pulled him close.

An eternity passed in Batman's arms as they furthered the passion between them, meeting tongues and groaning into each other's mouths. Joker's fingers spread over Batman's chest, touching as much as possible as they slid lower, fighting to seperate their bodies long enough for him to be able to do what he intended.

"Let me... help..." the playboy whispered, unbuttoning his own pants with the expertise of routine.

A white hand immediately found it's way to the desired area on Batman's body, taking the extra time to be gentle. The writhing man beneath him barely got his pants over his hips when he was taken by a sudden ripple of pleasure. Batman choked on his breath, knowing that at this point, there could be no turning back. There would be, however, a turning of tables.

"What are you doing?" Joker spat suddenly.

Batman had taken a firm hold of the clown's shoulders and pushed him over, gaining a feeling of dominance in the simple act of continuing without responding. He batted Joker's hands away, taking them and pinning his wrists above his head. With little resistance, Batman put both the Joker's hands under his right, using his left to unbutton the front of a disgustingly obnoxious yellow shirt. The starkingly white body beneath trembled, feeling the weight of his adversary pressing down against him. Joker's slacks were stripped away quickly, leaving him exposed to the moonlight shining in nearby. It shone on his skin and gave him an unholy look as he willingly spread his thighs for Batman.

A nagging sense of fear tugged at the Joker's lust, creating a large mingling of emotion in his green eyes. Possibly the most anyone had even seen in them. Batman caught the expression and read it carefully, his mind analyzing it before he could even stop to reconsider. He would remember those desperately beautiful eyes for the rest of his life.

So open. So vulnerable. So victimized. Like a frightened child.

But it was also evident that this was what the Joker wanted. And it was more than that. He craved it like his very mind stood in the balance. He needed it as badly as Batman needed the comfort of the night. And it would be provided.

This was no longer about Robin. It was about the undeniable gravity between two men who had spent years racing in circles around each other. It was about the intensity of their battles and the metamorphosis of their great dance. Never would either of them have imagined such an episode in their existences. The movement of their feet had always been sparratic and unorganized, dangerous with each increasingly personal encounter. But as two painfully exposed beings, they made a connection for the first time.

The dance they performed that night became orchestrated, intimate on every level they could reach. It was smooth and flowing, each minute sigh or cry of pain heeded to and answered with tender affinity. If asked to explain the emotions driving their bodies, neither man would be able to make sense of it.

Neither was sure he wanted to.