A/N: Well Necury, I finally got it typed up!! ^^ It took a hell of motivation, but I did it for you. XD' Anyhoo, my first Batman fic, and a lemon, no less! So please don't hate me if my writing isn't to your tastes, or I got them horribly OOC. D: I tried my hardest, and will gladly take flames of wrath!
And by the way- yes, this is a direct sequel to Necury (theyletmeinthemafia)'s BatsyXJoker fic, 'Silent Night'. It picks up two seconds after where that story ended, so it would definitely be a terrific idea to read that. :D Hooray, pimpage!! So, please enjoy this three-day late Silent Night! XD
Credits: I own nothing. o wo" Not even the storyline. ...I love you to death, Necury-chan. ;w; Thank you!!
In all honesty, the Joker had never expected any form of romance in his life. How could he? He was a clown, complete with a horribly disfigured face, a bitter childhood, and a sick sense of humor. But the Batman—here, he found his perfect match. Under this veil of black dawn with the thinnest of snows filtering around them, under the towering garbage chutes, beneath the squalor of Gotham, they were both exactly the same. Freaks. And the Joker loved it.
Feeling the weight of the bat pinning him to the frozen brick wall, the clown leniently exposed his neck for the other to bite at, accepting the pain with open arms. He held back his moans carefully, wanting to savor the silence of the alley, only decorated by the scuffling of bodies against one another amidst the light snow. To express his pleasure though, the Joker clenched his counterpart's shoulders tightly, his knuckles gleaming white with tension.
Finally, the sexuality of the entire ordeal hit them, and all too soon, the clown found himself gasping as he discovered that the Batman's armour wasn't as strong beneath the belt. The bat growled at his need to feel, and crushed the shorter man against the building. As the cold air tattled off the hot, quick breaths between them, the Joker's hands skillfully plied at the armour, trying to find any holes in the impenetrable fabric. Feeling a crack at the base of his opponent's neck, he pulled at the clothing, his message clear to both of them.
The Batman stepped quickly away, his hand grasping at where the clown had been exploring. Hesitating, he reached toward his belt instead, knowing that to reveal his upper armour was to reveal Bruce Wayne. His fingers trembled over the buckle, but staring at the clown, gasping and leering almost—dare he say it—seductively, he released it without abandon.
His unneeded pants were dropped to the whitened floor, and suddenly, he realized that he felt just as clothed as before, with his cloak and mask to protect him.
The Batman then turned his attentions to the matter of the other man's clothes. Fairly simple, homemade garments, they were carelessly shredded off the clown's shorter frame, and fluttered to the gently blanketed ground with the rest of the city's trash.
The Joker shivered then, but not from the winter. His hands touched the ominous mask, tracing over the sharp nose, feeling the outline of the eyes. But instead of taking this ripe opportunity to unmask Batman, his only intention was to violently smash the bat's tempting lips onto his in an animalistic manner, as if he were looking for warmth.
The clown pulled the taller man's naked hips to his own, his pelvis leaning into the other's. His pants of breath grew louder and closer-paced, as the bat's bare arousal touched against his.
Wanting more, the Joker strengthened the kiss, leaving the rest to his hero. Complying without any remnants of his former reluctance, the Batman opened his eyes and broke the kiss just briefly, to put his hands on the smaller, quivering hips. A hint of an amused expression pulled at his wax lips, as the Joker quickly reclaimed them with his blood-brushed ones.
The bat knew little about what he was doing. He had never done this with anyone, contrary to strong belief, and realized then, that he was officially losing his virginity to a psychopath killer without a name. It was nothing more than instinct guiding him on now, and, in a way, he was pleased with this opportune first time, much more than he should've been. He'd always been hoping to first make love with Rachel, since he'd first fallen for her… But now she was dead, courtesy of the Joker. And with a sick feeling, he knew that he wasn't as mournful as he would've expected to be. He was, after all, fornicating with her murderer.
With a mixture of derisive sadism and unbridled passion, he angled his pelvis into the other's, and pushed his bloomed erection into the clown mercilessly.
A loud, pleasantly surprised shout came muffled from the shorter man under the lip-lock, and feeling the Joker's body shaking with his silent mirth, the bat could almost hear the insane laughter ricocheting off the enclosed walls of the alley.
Grunting, he shattered their long kiss, afraid he would bite off the other's tongue with his taut tension.
The temperature quickly rose between them, and they heaved for breath in unison, their bodies closely entwined.
Pulling back, the clown drank in the sight happily, oblivious to the pain as the bat awkwardly moved inside of him. It was a beautiful scene, he noted. The hero's teeth were clenched tightly from trying not to let a noise escape his lips, which the Joker appreciated, but the taller man's entire composition was fraying at the edges.
The killer restrained a burst of laughter—who would've imagined?—the invincible Batman, coming apart at the seams because he was in lust with his mortal enemy. But he had to respect him, as well. It wasn't, admittedly, the bat with his spine arched and clutching at the brick wall like a lifeline. Watching a thin rivulet of blood seep from the other man's lower lip, the clown licked his scars delicately. He gritted his teeth and grasped the craggy wall as the bat effectively hit his heated bundle of nerves, but kept his coal eyes attached to the tantalizing blood flow.
His tongue danced behind his reddened lips, and, finally unable to resist, leaned forward, and tauntingly lapped at the stream of crimson.
Startled by this, the Batman lurched inside of the clown, forcing stifled, breathless noises out of both of them.
The pain was flooding the Joker's entire body now, and he knew that this particular event would greatly impede his movement in later combat, but it was already an unspoken truth between them. After this night, nothing mattered.
The bat's pace quickened, and as he began to move erratically, the clown braced himself, biting down on the scars in his mouth to quench his desire to make words.
At last, the taller man released himself with a most uncharacteristic gasp inside the Joker, who cringed and shifted in discomfort. Not that he completely disliked it.
Breathing deeply, the bat slowly unburied himself from the clown's body, and then sank to his knees wearily. The Joker felt a broad, greatly amused grin plastering his features, and patted the top of the mask, almost like he would to a pet.
He didn't even mind that his own arousal was still unattended to. Just being allowed to see the great and heroic Batman at his weakest and most vulnerable—that was the real pleasure.
But it was no loss when the bat sluggishly lifted his head, and still on his knees, dutifully enveloped the Joker's erection. Letting out a pant of surprise and delight, he arched his back again, finding it extremely difficult to try and keep this night untainted by words.
Sweat ran down his stripped body freely despite the haunting cold, as he scarred his arms on the unforgiving alley wall, wondering wildly what it was that he bat could be doing to make him feel so malleable.
The Batman glanced upward at the man he was supposed to be beating, asking himself why he was taking the time to pleasure the killer of his people, of Rachel. But somehow, the citizens of Gotham didn't seem quite so important next to being able to make the Joker feel.
Punches, kicks, strangling, none of that had worked. Perhaps that was because, with a criminal lifestyle, the clown had grown immune to physical pain. But as the Batman ran his slightly swollen tongue over the Joker's beading cock, it was evident that he was anything but immune to physical pleasure.
He felt the other man's fingers grasp at his mask desperately, and, as it started to slip off, instinctively grabbed the offending hands, and held them away.
At this gesture, the Joker started to snicker softly, realizing that even under these circumstances, the Batman still wanted to keep his identity a secret. His mind was quickly occupied though, as the skilled bat sucked harder on his throbbing erection. His knees buckled, and he laughed softly at the wonderful sensation. Drained of his strength, the clown fell forward, falling into the bat's head, even as he continued to twitch in bliss.
Then, he heard the Batman take in a great inhale through his nose, and with a final suck, the criminal cackled loudly, slumping over the bat's shoulder as he came into his supposed enemy's mouth.
On instinct, the taller man simply swallowed the clown's appealing fluids, and stood back up on quavering legs, hauling the awake, yet limp Joker over his shoulder. The insane killer was still chortling to himself, a childishly content tone to his laughter.
The Batman stumbled a few more feet out of the alley, then just before entering the vision of urban lights, pulled his pants back on. He squinted against the shine of neon signs, wide-awake skyscrapers and blinding Christmas trees, and then tucked the Joker's giggling body under his cloak, concealing the immobile clown. Carrying his subdued villain, he swooped off into the grey dawn wordlessly, leaving the sacred silence intact.