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[Jun. 5th, 2007|08:30 pm] |
I'm just going to quote selectively, because I'm lazy like that.
"So here he was, trussed up in the Batrope, or whatever Batman called it, being flown back to Arkham. He was thirsty and tired and angry at Harley.
And horny. Definitely horny.
How many of his fantasies had started just like this? Restrained by Batman, bound by one of his toys. Close quarters, tight enough to hear the creaking of the plates of armor in Batman’s costume as he moved, smell the man’s sweat, see the way the muscles in his jaw were clenched tight.
Oh, what he’d give to have Batman land the plane and turn around, kneel over him and play with those bindings, cape flowing over him, lean down and touch his mouth to-"
"Joker craved the touch of a man who would sooner never lay eyes on him again, let alone his hands."
Within the first section we've already veered far downhill, as Joker fantasizes about Batman like a horny high school kid with an issue of "Leather Guys" shoved under his mattress.
Next, Poison Ivy gives Joker a vial of sex pollen as an apology.Because that's not just plot driven to explain the sex at all.
"He wanted to feel with his disfigured body, not his empty heart.
He’d dreamt about it again the night before, what it would be like to be under Batman, be taken by him. His hands entwined in that silky cape, his own pale thighs surrounded by muscular ones. He woke up desperately needing to come and hating his brain for teasing him so."
Joker with woody. Such a lovely thought. Maybe the kids will pick on him during gym class next.
"Or maybe it would make Batman shrivel up into a husk of a man as he died from the inside out. Hopefully not. Joker’s life didn’t have much of a point without Batman in it.
He knew it was dangerous to put all of one’s being into another person- he was crazy, not stupid- but sometimes these things couldn’t be helped.
And maybe he didn’t want to help it."
Yes, poor, obsessed w00bie Joker. Little tear. Little emo tear.
"That had been an hour and a half ago. Joker was getting antsy. Could Batman actually be standing him up?
They’d had a date!
Joker would keep the place under control, then Batman would come and take him away, and then he’d try to use Ivy’s wonder dust. No matter what happened, he’d at least get to smell that deliciously sweaty Kevlar again."
Okay, let's consider that phrase again. "smell that deliciously sweaty Kevlar." Process that for a second, grab a grocery bag, and let your gag reflex go, folks.
"Before he could snark at Batman he was dumbstruck yet again by the sheer attractiveness of the large, angry man stalking in his direction. What made him crave dominance from such a frightening, imposing figure?"
Joker. Dumbfounded, because Batman's just too damn hot.
"Those were the only words spoken until they actually got to the sexiest car Joker had ever seen. Sleek and black, intimidating and powerful, all just like its owner. Surely the order to climb into the car was the result of the pollen; there was no other way Joker would ever see the inside of that gorgeous machine."
Phallic car imagery from Joker. Phallic car imagery. Grab the bag again, or just give yourself some time in the restroom to empty your entire stomach.
"Batman spoke again, and Joker couldn’t remember any time when someone had spoken to him with this amount of reverence. Even Harley tainted her words now. “I can’t believe I never noticed.” He moved closer and popped open the cuffs around Joker’s wrists, and even if Batman had bothered to clarify what he was talking about Joker didn’t think he’d be able to hear him over the beating of his own heart."
It's true sex-pollen fucking love.
"Batman pulled off his other glove, tossed it into the narrow backseat, and made a lunge for Joker. Only years of practice grappling with Batman prepared him to deflect him from his target, clearly a kiss. That, and Batman actually stopped when Joker pushed him away.
That wasn’t an edge of hurt in Batman’s pretty eyes. Joker refused to believe it. “What’s wrong? I know you want this. Have for years. Want,” Batman’s voice sank deeper, “me.”"
Batman, the diminutive teasing sub.
"Joker’s heart beat impossibly harder, pumping blood directly to his cock. Hard and aching in six seconds flat, just from Batman. Well, sexy Batman. It’d only been his fantasy for years.
Why did he stop him? Because Batman was drugged. Because it was wrong.
Because kissing was too intimate, too personal, and if he kissed Batman he couldn’t watch his mouth, and it couldn’t be on his cock."
First time sex anxiety.
"“So, Batsy, you want me?” Joker could barely speak, so constricting was the weight of Batman’s gaze. “You want to suck me?” Joker trailed his white fingers down the dark expanse of armored chest in front of him and whispered, “You want to fuck me?”
Batman growled and pulled Joker’s left leg over the center console and Joker righted himself indignantly. “Not right here, Batsy.” Not in the car. He wasn’t his prom date. On the car, however... “Wouldn’t you rather see me spread on the hood?”"
"Batman intended to strip him and fuck him raw."
Car hood fucking. Always a winner.
"At the fender stood the Dark Knight, his knight for tonight."
Bag warning.
"“Keep it on. All of it. And get on your knees.”
He obliged like a whore, and strong hands unzipped Joker’s pants and pulled them down his narrow hips. Batman barely let him step out of them and his polka dot boxers before he was sucking him, tongue everywhere around the head and then pressed underneath when Joker was inside."
Batman. Obliged. Like. A. Whore.
I hope you had a collection of those gag bags.
"Things rarely lived up to expectation, but this may have. Maybe it was just that it’d been a while, but it was good all on its own. Batsy knew how to give head, knew where to lick and where to press, and Joker shuddered as a wave of pleasure rolled through him.
His hands drifted to either side of the cowl, thumbs caressing the ears, and it was so much like his fantasies, so much like his dreams...
It was almost too late not to come before he pushed Batman away. “Fuck me, Batsy. Like you know you want to.” Like he hoped he wanted to. “Then you take it from there. I’m yours.” Owned."
Owned. I really can't get over the owned. It has such a nice ring to it.
"His shoes were next, then his socks, and finally he was nude, cock jutting forward from green pubic hair."
T.M.I.
"Thumbs pressed around his opening and then saliva- it was all it could have been- trickled along it. Batman grunted, shifted, and then a colder fluid was drizzled along his hot flesh. “Lubricant,” was whispered into his ear, followed by, “Condoms, too. Better prepared than a boy scout.”"
Ah, yes, those Boy Scouts. Always ready for anything
"Without warning the blunt head of Batman’s cock pressed against him. Armor clad hips thrust forward and Joker held his breath as his body tightened to ward off the invasion."
So many bad battle jokes, so little time.
"“Relax. Or I won’t be able to give you what you want.”
He did want it, and he forced himself to calm down. He got himself comfortable, and because it was right in front of him, studied the stylish grate that ran up the middle of the top half of the hood. Slowly, painfully, Batman forced his way inside. It was dry and it hurt, but he tried not to focus on that. Instead, he thought of what they looked like, Batman behind him, cape flowing over them both, billowing slightly as he moved, Joker supporting himself on his forearms and wincing on every forward thrust."
The cape fetish bit? Mildly creepy.
"His knight pulled out and rolled Joker over, somehow simultaneously pulling one of those familiar zip strips out of the ether. He yanked Joker’s arms over his head, wrapped the strip around one wrist, threaded it through a bottom bar of the grate, then around the other wrist.
He was restrained, trapped, Batman looming over him in the gloom, pupils dilated, his own pale thighs spread around Batman’s waist.
He was restrained, trapped, Batman looming over him in the gloom, pupils dilated, his own pale thighs spread around Batman’s waist.
Joker was harder than he’d ever been."
"He got just a little more turned on each time he tugged at his bindings and found himself still latched to the car, and then Batman threaded his fingers through Joker’s sweaty hair and kept his head in place as well.
Pinned. Everywhere. By Batman fucking him."
Really nothing to say here.
"Batman came soon thereafter, an odd self-satisfied smirk on his face. He pushed Joker’s legs down and pulled out, then tossed the condom into a garbage can near the computer.
He turned his back to Joker, and Joker didn’t think too much about what he may be doing until he turned back around and there was a fresh condom on his erection."
Mmm, repeated anal sex.
"Joker came one more time that night, Batman three more, and then the Dark Knight had collapsed onto the floor. Joker wasn’t sure how long ago that was.
What he did know was that his shoulders were sore because his arms were still pulled back above his head, his ass was sore from Batman’s cock, and his lower back was sore because without Batman in front of him, there wasn’t a good place to rest his legs. He was also tired and dehydrated, he smelled bad, and the dried semen on his stomach itched.
And, oh yes, he was strapped to a car."
And then Robin walks in and it becomes uncomfortably boring. |
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