Chapter Text
The ride back was… awkward. To be honest, Bruce didn’t even know where they were riding back to. Joker was beaming, and Bruce was reeling. This wasn’t the plan, he had no contingencies for this. What now? Married, he was married. And to the Joker no less. Fuck.
“My dear, we’re home,” Joker said, for once without a bit of jest. Just gentleness, and lo- caring. It was caring.
They were at the Manor. Bruce was not even able to question anything. He would have liked to say he was numb, but he was the furthest thing from it. There was no questioning it. He had a fear boner. The combination of the day’s events had all culminated in this, and Bruce would like to say he was surprised. He knew if he had any kind of stimulus at all he’d break, he would come inside of his suit like, like--like. He didn’t even know what it would be like, all he knew was that if the Joker touched him he would die, not only his petit mort, but of embarrassment as well. He could feel the tension in his body, could feel the single drop of sweat making a trail down his lower back. He could feel the Joker’s eyes on him, waiting expectantly. He didn’t know what he wanted. Had he ever known what he wanted? Or had he always known and was just too afraid to acknowledge it?
The Joker reached out to take Bruce’s hand, and he shook in anticipation. He should stop the motion, should jerk away, let out a gruff dismissal and limp his way inside like the hero he was supposed to be. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
He could feel the Joker grab a hold of his hand. The taking off of his gauntlet. The press of lips to the back of his hand. And he fell apart. He didn’t allow himself to moan, to scream the way he wanted to, no. He managed to conceal most of his orgasm with a hiss. But the pure feeling was too much, and he felt involuntary tears leak from his eyes as he clenched them shut. The Joker was still holding his hand. His grip had turned to iron. Bruce finally turned to look at him, and was almost relieved to see the maniacal grin back in place.
He knew. And Bruce knew he knew. And he knew that Bruce knew that he knew.
What now?
Well apparently “what now” constituted of the Joker saying in almost a growl,
“Inside. I’ve waited too long for this.”
Bruce doesn’t remember much of the walk to his bedroom. He remembers the press of the Joker’s hand on the small of his back. He remembers wanting to kiss him again. He doesn’t remember removing his cowl, or his boots, or his cape. Those details were unimportant. What was important was the Joker. Post-orgasmic bliss had made him dumb, and every single twisted, sexual need he’d ever had was coming up to the forefront of his mind. He ached, but when did he not? He had been aching for this since the minute he laid eyes on the Joker those years ago, wild and insane and absolutely fucking stunning. And now they were married. The cool press of metal on his ring finger wouldn’t let him forget it. He was less and less sure with every passing second that he wanted to.
Eventually he managed to filter in what the Joker was saying, and a heat rose up in him.
“Been wanting you since the moment I saw you Batsy, the moment I saw you I knew you were mine. Gonna take you, gonna make you mine. I’m going to make you forget your own name by the time I’m through with you, and then we can wake up and do it all over again because you’re mine.”
Bruce’s mouth fell open with a gasp, and finally, finally, he was rewarded with a kiss, open-mouthed and all-consuming.
Somehow they discarded the rest of their clothing, but how wasn’t important. What was important was the hot press of the Joker’s lips against his throat, teeth whispering a loving threat across Bruce’s jugular. He was hard again, and everything was hot, he was burning up even though he was naked on his bed with the motherfucking Joker, his husband, oh god, oh god.
Someone was moaning desperately, like the only thing they wanted was to be consumed and devoured raw and bloody, and suddenly Bruce realized that it was him. The Joker was humming praises into his neck, sucking a noose of hickeys into his skin. Let him hang, let him be burned on the pyre for this sin, this want, this all consuming heat. He could feel the Joker’s cock brushing against his own, side by side as they lay together. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew what he did want involved that cock. He reached out blindly, clutching the Joker closer to him
“You want me sweetheart, want me to fill you up with my cock? I mean, I would assume so since you’ve been begging for it so sweetly,” the Joker lilted into his ear. Bruce couldn’t suppress a groan. Yes, he wanted that very much, and for once in his fucking life he could admit that. He had never let himself be vulnerable in that way, but if he was going to burn it was going to be for a damn good reason.
“Is it your first time, Batsy?” Joker said, reaching down to palm at Bruce’s cock. Bruce gave out a whine in response, until his cock was clenched in a brutal grip.
“Answer me honey, or you don’t get to come,” Joker said, grinning.
“B--bastard,” Bruce managed to get out, before following with a begrudging, “Yes.”
“Then we’ll have to work up to what you really want. Now turn around,” Joker said, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s jaw.
He did, knowing he was leaving his back wide open. Knowing that it didn’t matter because his heart had already been stabbed through. They were back to chest now, and Bruce could feel the beat of their hearts together, almost in sync.
“Squeeze your thighs together, Bruce. Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”
He did, stomach fluttering in anticipation. The first brush of the Joker’s cock against his perineum had him gasping, the press of it between his thighs had him panting. He was hyper aware of the precum dripping from his cock and from the Joker’s, the way the base of the Joker’s cock would brush over his hole leaving shocks in its wake. Every nerve alight, every muscle tensed, Bruce rode out the sensation, the pure feeling.
“There we go Bruce, just like that. So beautiful, you always have been. Can’t wait to see you come again, you looked so gorgeous the first time. Oh, darling.”
He couldn’t help it, he cried out when the Joker took hold of his cock and began stroking it in time with his thrusts. Bruce rutted up into his hand, then realizing he was also fucking back onto the Joker’s cock between his thighs, yet he couldn’t find it in him to stop. The pleasure was heightening in him, punching out moans and huffs of breath from his lungs almost involuntarily. He knew he was going to come soon. It was inevitable. Maybe all of this was.
A hand clasped his. Their left hands intertwined. Bruce felt more than heard the bite of their wedding bands against one another. And then he was gone for the second time in as many hours. Moments later he felt a heat between his thighs, and he heard the Joker’s strangled moans in his ear, felt them in his chest. His last coherent thought was,
“I hope the kids don’t walk in on this.”