He was not growing fond of the Joker.
Bruce told himself that again and again, even as strong arms slid tenderly under the lithe man's form, lifting him and cradling him to his chest, watching the makeup less face burrow into him, fingers curling into his shirt. Absolutely not. It didn't matter how harmless the clown looked having fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Bruce to return home from a meeting, one of the billionaires shirts hanging loose off one shoulder, practically engulfing the small man. Nor the way he'd kept his promise these past weeks. Not even the way the emerald haired man lit up when he arrived home, whispering an excited, "Brucey!"
Jack or not, he couldn't allow himself to forget what this man had done, no matter how easy it was.
"Come on, Jack… Let's get you to bed if you're still sleepy." He murmured, nuzzling the smaller man softly as he carried him towards their room, stifling a laugh when thin arms draped around his neck and clung like a child, refusing to be set down.
"Don't wanna sleep." Came the mumbled protest. "Just want you to hold me a bit, Kay?" There was a pause as a face buried itself in Bruce's neck, sinful ruby lips brushing the skin lightly.
A shiver ran down Bruce's spine, even as he tried to fight it off.
"Alright, Jackie. I've got you, I won't let go." Blue eyes roamed the others curled form, locking onto the ivory expanse of that exposed throat and shoulder. He found himself drawn to a long, ragged white scar, lifting his thumb to brush along it gently.
"Jack?" He questioned softly, continuing to stroke the spot as though his fingers were acting on their own volition. "How did you get this?"
"Hmm?" Jack lifted his head to lock eyes with the other, a quiet mewl escaping his lips as he tipped to allow the younger man better access to the spot. "Oh, that. One of my first fights with Batsy. We were both young and not sure what we were doing then, I suppose. The poor thing was so guilt ridden that he ran. He's gotten much less hesitant about scarring me up now." The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, as a shudder ran through him, allowing the other to continue his ministrations. "This one isn't so bad, Brucie, I've got others far worse."
A frown tugged at the raven haired mans lips, he remembered all those nights well, but here and now he found himself angry about the marks. Slowly, as not to startle the other, he ran his lips along the mark, tracing every inch of it as though trying to erase some hidden pain resting there. "Please show me the others." He murmured, even as large hands lifted to the buttons of the long shirt, beginning to carefully unbutton them. "Why would Batman do this to you?" He questioned, memorizing each jagged scar and painful ridge, the guilt ridden questions he'd asked himself countless times now falling from his lips. "He's supposed to be a protector… Jack, why do you let him do this to you, baby?"
Nothing could have prepared Bruce for his lover to look up at him, eyes holding a sincerity he'd never encountered before as Jack murmured, "When you love someone like I love Batsy, you take them flaws and all. He doesn't see that, but I do. I take him for what he is, and for what he needs me to be."
"And what does he need you to be?" Bruce questioned, voice hoarse as another tight ball of guilt and unease grew in his stomach. The Joker claimed to love him. Any other time, he'd brush it off as a joke, but those eyes…
"The bad guy. My Batsy may hate the things I do, but he needs me to do them. He needs an outlet for all the anger, someone who can match him blow for blow. I'm not fragile, he can't break me like he can others. I push him to be all he can be, because I know if I don't he won't live up to his true potential as what this city needs. It's all for him. It's always been for him, Brucey. He's just so blinded by his morality that he doesn't see it."
Bruce could hear no more. He shifted the other on his lap, crashing his lips into the madman's in a careful, yet desperate kiss. Every ounce of his guilt, of his desire and confusion, he poured into the others mouth, deep and claiming, apologetic and sweet. It was every moment of tender understanding that he had never allowed himself to have with this man until now, every craving he'd buried deep inside of himself for the greater good. The billionaire felt the villain gasp in his arms, crawling closer until their bodies were flush, separated only by the fabric of Bruce's suit as those long, graceful, maddening fingers tangled in raven locks, the clown returning the kiss with every ounce as much fire.
This was dangerous. With every moan breathed into his mouth by the man he claimed to hate the most, he further damned himself. And yet, he couldn't even care, the need to care and take and possess overwhelming him and clearing his mind.
The Joker was breathless when the younger man pulled away, his eyes glazing with want as his tongue darted out, stroking over his lip slowly. "Wow Brucey. I can certainly see why all those girls trip over their feet for you." He purred playfully. "But what on earth did I do to deserve such a nice tre-"
He was cut off as the bigger man kissed him once more, idly stroking his cheek.
"Shhh. No more talking, darling. Just lay back, and let me make it all better." Bruce coaxed, voice silk as he moved to gently lay the other back amongst the pillows, eyes roaming over the others lithe body as large fingers pushed the shirt open farther, exposing all of him.
Beautiful. How had he never noticed that before? Maybe he'd simply never allowed himself to until this moment. His head lowered, lips moving to caress each scar, starting with his chest and working downward.
"Bruce!" The Joker mewled, arching his body up towards those lips, desperate for more contact. Warmth unlike he'd ever known pooled in his stomach, washing through him in waves. He almost felt embarrassment when his cock began to harden, unhindered by the lack of clothing he wore, standing proud and tall against his lover's chest as Bruce continued his exploratory kisses. The chance for shame was quickly stolen as one large hand wrapped around his length, beginning to stroke slowly.
"Bruce, oh god, cupcake yes, just like that! Please please please I need-" the begging fell from his lips without second thought, piercing eyes cloudy with desire as he watched the other before his legs, breath hitching as a deviant mouth, clearly well practiced, joined the hand.
He must have died and gone to heaven. There was no way this was real. Every second of that moist heat drove the criminal to madness, or perhaps to sanity. God, he'd do anything the billionaire asked if this was how his good behaviour was rewarded. It wasn't long before his fingers were clutching the sheets, the others name falling from his lips reverently as he came, seeing stars. Spent, his fingers tiredly reached for the other man, pleased when Bruce joined him, holding him close.
It was so wrong in so many ways, Bruce reminded himself, even as he swallowed his nemesis's seed and moved to lay beside him gathering him into his arms and nibbling at that lily throat until a dark possessive mark appeared. Fuck it. Just once, he wanted to be selfish. Besides, this was for Gotham, rehabilitation was working, the clown was calming down. No, now wasn't the time to think about it. Forcing the thoughts from his mind, Bruce turned his attention back to the man in his arms, his Jackie, and let himself play pretend that they were real.