Title: My Favourite Game
Author: elvis_a
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: G through NC-17
Chapter 5/??
Summary: "There was no such thing as self-control anymore. The Joker laid the trap and Batman came running back every time, helplessly wrapped up in a game of 'catch the clown'."

Chapter 5 - Just Stay:

Bruce needed the Joker, no matter how painful it was to admit. He spent a long time denying it, and even more time feeling bitter about it. He didn't accept it, but he acknowledged it now. It was that thought that kept him lying awake at night for hours, and haunted his dreams.

Tonight was no exception. The billionaire playboy lay awake beneath black silk sheets in his room at the cabin, his mind plagued with images of black-ringed eyes and distorted red lips. The Joker must have been playing some sick mind game with him. It wasn't healthy to think about someone you hated as much as he did. It was starting to make him feel like a madman.

Bruce and his nemesis had been staying at the cabin for almost a week now. With all of his business deals being overseen by Lucius, and Alfred now believing him to be vacationing in Paris with one of his admirers, Bruce was free of all obligation for the time being.

The room was dark and quiet, and there had been no run-ins with the Joker for a few nights now. It should have been effortless for Bruce to sleep, and yet for the past couple of nights all he could do was lay awake and replay everything that had happened, in his head- jumping from the roof of the police headquarters, Joker running away, bashing his face in, the clown's fingers brushing against his lips, the salty taste of his blood, fighting back the tears that spilled onto his pillow. It stirred something deep inside of him, exciting and terrifying him.

He pushed those dark thoughts to the depths of his mind. It had been too quiet lately. The vigilante suspected something was amiss. The Joker stayed locked up in his room for the past couple of days, only coming out three times a day for a quick meal and bathroom breaks. Tonight he had skipped dinner. In fact, Bruce hadn't seen him come out since earlier that morning. Something was up.

Slipping out from under the sheets, he tiptoed across the carpet and opened the door. The hallway was dark, and Bruce was startled to see the Joker's lithe form standing merely inches away. Bruce was shrouded in darkness, any trace of revealing moonlight cut off by thick velvet curtains, and Bruce knew the Joker could not see more than his silhouette.

"You just don't know how to stay locked up, do you?," he put on his best Batman voice, grabbing the Joker by his shirt for emphasis, and pulling him into the room.

"Half the fun of being locked up, Batsy, is finding your way out."

He loathed the Joker right now for the way the madman complicated him, for making his own thoughts feel foreign inside his head. If he could see his maniacal grin through the thick darkness, that maddening childlike expression, he would beat it in with his fist. Instead, he settled for driving him into the nearest wall, the Joker's head ricocheting off with a loud crack. And it was so satisfying.

The Joker responded positively with an amused laugh. "Stop holding back, Batman. Give in to your anger..."

Bruce growled, shaking the Joker violently in his hands. Not a sliver of moonlight gave away the Joker's face, but more importantly did not betray his own. He was positive the clown was enjoying himself, though, and that infuriated him. Worse was the fact that he was enjoying himself, too.

"Come on, you can do better than that. Hit me, damn it! Make it hurt." Bruce could sense the plea in Joker's voice. He was no longer taunting- he was begging for it. The Joker sounded less like a maniac and more like a wounded dog. His voice was needy, and he slumped forward against Bruce's chest, still in his grip. Bruce felt the Jokers face against his neck, his warm breath making his hair raise. The Joker's lips were close to his ear, his words tickling the Dark Knight's skin, "Let yourself lose control."

Bruce growled and threw the Joker effortlessly across the room, violently, but clinging to the last vestiges of control that were slipping away. He wouldn't let the deranged clown have his way, but he could still make him suffer for the way he made Bruce feel. The Joker made a soft landing, sprawled out right onto Bruce's bed. Bruce couldn't see him, but could hear him panting in the otherwise silent room. The Joker gave a deep groan. He wasn't laughing anymore.

Bruce was disgusted by the Joker, but he pitied him in some way. Not that it would stop him from using him for his own benefit, but enough to show him enough mercy not to beat him within an inch of his life. "You can't always get your way, Joker" Bruce took a few steps toward the bed.

"You're just...not good at...following directions!" the Joker panted.

Bruce had enough. He jumped at the Joker viciously, like a wild beast to its prey. He landed painfully on top of him, with more force than necessary to hold him down, grabbing him by the arms. He still could not see him, the darkness veiling his eyes, but their faces were an inch apart, and their bodies pressed flush against one another. The Joker writhed and squirmed like captured prey making its last futile attempt at freedom. Then his hips bucked forward roughly- uncontrollably- against Bruce's, and he was still.

Bruce hissed at the contact, shocked at the friction from the lack of a Batsuit that always stood as a barrier between them. He had overpowered the Joker easily, and the clown lay still, breathing heavily in defeat. He had the upper hand, and he loved it. It felt good to be on top of the Joker, knowing he was powerless against his grip.

Suddenly, the Joker struggled one last time, not ready to give up the fight. Bruce tightened his grasp on the smaller man's arms and put all his weight against his body, nearly crushing him. The Joker seemed suddenly fragile as he lay immobile. Something very hard was pressing into Bruce's groin, and for a split second he was not sure if it was his own erection and he panicked. The Joker's hips thrust uncontrollably upward at him, and he realized it was the Joker's arousal.

Bruce's mind went haywire, and he lost his ability for coherent thought altogether. It was no longer about what was wrong or immoral, but what the side of him wanted that laid awake at night envisioning bloody hands tracing his lips, and steamy water washing over pale, scarred skin.

He had the sudden urge to touch the Joker's face. He thought if he could just touch him, to feel he was human, somehow he could make sense of all this. It wouldn't feel so wrong. He reached out to him, running his fingers over his cheek to feel his skin. There was no makeup coating it. It was so soft and human that a warmth radiated from within. Bruce clenched his eyes shut tight, overwhelmed at the intensity of the contact. He traced his thumb over the Joker's lips, the way the clown had done to him nights ago in this room, and they parted slightly, a weak breath escaping them.

A sweaty, shaky hand made contact with his own face, needy, clinging to him. The Joker rubbed his palm all over Bruce's face, crossing the line of desperation and was nearly smothering him. He traced over every feature, leaving nothing untouched. Rough fingers smoothed over closed eyes, clean-shaven jawline, and hungry lips. And then it hit him: Joker had never seen his face before. He was studying it, memorizing it.

They lay like this for what felt like hours, but was probably just a fleeting moment, wrapped up in terrifying desperation. It ended as quickly as it came.

"You're weak, Batman," the Joker laughed his familiar chuckle. "Too easy to take advantage of...you make a good toy though."

"What?" blood was pulsating through Bruce's veins, to his head, and other places he couldn't believe. Taking his frustrations out on the Joker had slipped into feelings he couldn't control, more easily than he would have ever imagined. He didn't want this- how could he? It didn't make sense. He lost control of himself, that's all. It didn't mean anything, right? The Joker was just using some sort of sick head game to manipulate him.

And it was working. Fuck.

Bruce did the only thing he could bring his body to do, and rolled off the smaller man beneath him so the two were laying side-by-side on their backs. Both were still.

"Does this complicate things for you in your perfect little world...Brucey?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Bruce's heart skipped a beat. For a moment he thought he was hearing things, but Joker definitely said 'Brucey'.

"I must admit, even I was impressed at how long you managed to keep up your little charade. But after the way you threw yourself at...at that girl, and the way you disappeared from your own party like that. Well, even a guy like me can figure you out. You have such fancy, expensive toys, Batsy."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? Why didn't you tell anybody?" Bruce knew this would happen, with all the time he'd been spending here with his rival, but now that his worst fears were confirmed he wasn't prepared for it. His arch nemesis knew the one secret he had tried so hard to keep safe, but how?

"You ask waaay too many questions, Brucey. Curiosity killed the bat, you know! AHAHA get it? Bat? Heh heh," Joker frowned when he realized Bruce wasn't laughing. "Why would I tell anybody? NO. Don't you get it? You're mine, Bats. They don't deserve to know...anything about you. To them you're just a freak, they don't care...about you, they just wanna use you up and suck you dry. No, they don't care..."

"And you do?" Bruce sat up on the bed, the reality of his surroundings sinking in and making him feel uneasy. He felt dizzy with the emotions he didn't want to face, but they had manifested into something too real to run from them now.

Joker was up now too, sitting cross-legged in front of Bruce on the bed, propping up his chin in his hand as if deep in thought.

"You know what," Bruce sighed, "don't answer that."

"Do you care about me?"

"What? No! I mean no, of course not. Why would I-" Bruce's mind lingered on memories of jumping over the rail to save the Joker from falling, speeding down the highway with a purple-suited man bouncing in the seat beside him, waiting up so late for the killer to come home and falling asleep in his bed, dabbing at his bloody wounds, and watching over him the whole night while he slept. "Yeah, I do," he winced as the words escaped his lips. Defeated.

"Why?" he didn't know why. All he knew was that he saw this...vulnerability in the Joker, and he felt very protective and possessive of him. It didn't make sense why. The Joker didn't need protecting. Bruce wanted to bash his face in, and then be the one to make him feel better and clean him up and it didn't make any sense.

"I feel like you to belong to me," Bruce didn't know what part of him that came from, let alone believe he let those words escape his lips. This was getting weird. "When you're gone I feel..." feel what, relieved? Safe? Normal? "...empty." Nice, Bruce. Really smooth.

"Don't get all um...emotional on me, Batsy," he scrunched up his face in a disgusted grimace. "Pull yourself together!"

Now what? Carry on as if none of this ever happened, as if Bruce didn't know he needed the Joker to complete his complicated life? Keep telling himself he didn't want the clown-faced criminal, as if he hadn't tried so many sleepless nights already? What was the point anymore? What did he gain from hiding it? Either way, his life was complicated and unsatisfying. What was the use in hiding from this revelation?

"Just- just stay, here. With me. Don't go back to Arkham. Not yet. Stay?" his throat was dry and all the words came out wrong, but he needed to say them before it was too late. If Joker could see through the darkness, he'd be looking at Bruce like he was crazier than him, but Bruce didn't care, not anymore.

"And if I don't?" Joker teased.

"I'll catch you."

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1: Cat and Mouse
Chapter 2: Playing Rough
Chapter 3: Defeated
Chapter 4: Foolish