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Feb. 23rd, 2009 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Slaughter is the Best Medicine
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellerkay (previously published under collectively)
Part: 4/?
Word count: 1,905
Pairing: Joker/Scarecrow
Rating/warnings: NC-17; breathplay
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit. All characters and settings belong to Warner Brothers and DC Comics and maybe some other people too.
Summary: THE NEW COMPOUND IS REVEALED!!1!eleventy1!
A/N: This one's a bit on the short side, apologies. It was longer but I cut the beginning, it was some character stuff that I might turn into a drabble at some point.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Jonathan awoke to a wet heat enveloping his cock. He gave a small moan and stirred, blinking at the light. There was a tangle of green-blonde hair between his legs. The Joker took Jonathan’s cock slowly into his mouth and Jonathan groaned. The Joker ran his tongue along the underside and raised his head.
“Good morning,” he said. “I thought this might be a good way to welcome you to our little operation.”
“Good morning,” Jonathan replied. The Joker had somehow pulled his pajama pants down enough to expose his cock without waking him. Jonathan was surprised; he’d always considered himself a light sleeper. Still, he couldn’t exactly complain. The Joker wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked it slowly. Jonathan’s hips rose and he let his head fall back against the pillows.
“You know,” the Joker said conversationally. “You look beautiful when you sleep. Like an angel. And so innocent.”
“And you like that, do you?” Jonathan asked, panting slightly. The Joker grinned and leaned forward to swirl his tongue around the head of Jonathan’s cock. Jonathan gasped softly.
“You know, I kind of do,” the Joker said thoughtfully, as if it were a notion that had never occurred to him before. “Not that I don’t like them a bit depraved, too. And you certainly fit the bill. Letting strange men fuck you in alleys, and things like that.”
Jonathan thought that when he said “strange,” he probably didn’t mean “a stranger.” They seemed to be getting better and better acquainted, after all. His lips parted as the Joker licked his cock from root to tip.
“After I finish welcoming you, I think I should get that thank you you promised me last night,” the Joker said.
“I don’t remember promising you anything,” Jonathan said, wondering if it wasn’t a very bad idea to argue with the Joker over something he didn’t really mind doing anyway.
“Oh, you did.” The Joker licked his lips. “I saw it in your eyes.” He started stroking Jonathan’s cock again, faster now.
“Perhaps I could write you a nice card instead,” Jonathan gasped out. What in the hell was wrong with him? The strange feeling was lurking again…
The Joker laughed and slid his hand up Jonathan’s chest, letting it come to rest lightly on his throat. He didn’t put any pressure, but the meaning was clear.
“I don’t think you will,” he said. “I think you value our friendship far too much.” He took Jonathan’s cock down his throat again, and Jonathan moaned and thrust hard, reaching out and grabbing at the Joker’s shoulder. The hand at his throat didn’t go away, and as he thrust faster the Joker squeezed ever so slightly. Jonathan tried to pay attention to how much pressure he was using, but distracted as he was, he didn’t notice it was increasing until he was thrusting desperately and unable to breathe. Before he had time to panic he was cumming down the Joker’s throat. For a split second his vision clouded, but the pleasure was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced.
Then the hand was gone and Jonathan breathed in with a sharp gasp. His heart was racing, and he shuddered from the aftershocks of the orgasm. The Joker’s face appeared over his. He was grinning and licking his lips.
“My turn,” he said.
***
Jonathan made himself some toast and tea for breakfast. The kitchen, he found, was downstairs. It was a large industrial one which was shared by everyone in the building, which he didn’t mind too much, considering what he had thought living there would be like. He didn’t spend much time in the kitchen, anyway.
It seemed that not all the henchmen lived in the building, but many crashed on the couches or had turned one of the rooms into something for themselves. None of those were finished, as Jonathan’s was. He still wasn’t sure where the Joker slept. Perhaps he had claimed one of the other rooms for himself. Jonathan wondered if he slept at all.
He brought his breakfast back to his apartment, seating himself on his worn leather couch. He opened a book on multiple personalities he’d been enjoying and started reading, sipping his tea slowly. After a few bites his uneaten toast grew cold as he was drawn into the book. Eventually the last of the tea cooled as well, forgotten on the coffeetable.
“You know,” the Joker said, and Jonathan jumped, cursing the fact that he had startled him again. How could the Joker keep sneaking up on him with that shuffling walk of his?
“You really ought to eat,” the Joker said, flopping down on the couch and helping himself to a piece of toast. “You’re skin and bones. Gangly, like…” He scrutinized Jonathan thoughtfully. “Something. It’ll come to me, don’t worry.”
“Did you want something?” Jonathan asked resentfully, taking his second piece of toast before the Joker had time to steal that, too.
“Mm.” The Joker swallowed a mouthful of toast and took a sip of Jonathan’s tea before he had time to protest. He made a face. “This tea is cold. And coffee is better.”
“Then get your own,” Jonathan replied, irritated. He needed more caffeine. “What do you want?”
“Oho, not so friendly.” The Joker handed Jonathan back his now-empty mug and leaned forward, leering at him. “You were much more receptive this morning.” Jonathan stared back, stony-faced, and the Joker settled himself back against the other end of the couch.
“I thought we could have a talk about your new compound,” he said.
“Oh, yes. I’m so interested to discover what it is.” Joanthan's voice dripped with sarcasm, but the Joker beamed.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He licked his lips and grinned some more. “It’s going to be an aphrodisiac.”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Why on earth do you need with an aphrodisiac?” he asked coolly. “You could barely contain yourself on the fear toxin. It might be more effective for you than a traditional aphrodisiac.”
The Joker was shaking his head. “It’s not for me.”
“Who’s it for?” Jonathan was fairly certain he knew the answer, but he wanted to see what he’d say.
The Joker grinned but shook his head again. “This little scheme isn’t quite ready yet. I need your help.”
Jonathan regarded him for a long moment. “Why not just use a traditional aphrodisiac?” he asked finally. “There are dozens out there. Hundreds, perhaps.”
“Mm, I want it to have your special touch, doctor.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, I just like you.”
“How lucky for me,” Jonathan said drily. “As it happens, you’re in luck. I’ve considered making something like that before.”
“Oh,” the sound was half-moan. “I was so hoping you’d say that, too.”
Jonathan smiled thinly. “I’ve thought about a number of different compounds. I couldn’t make anything under such close surveillance at Arkham and in my home, of course. But I have ideas, and a few notes. It will take time, I’m not sure how long.”
The Joker was beaming again. “And I didn’t even have to threaten to kill you this time,” he said affectionately. “I knew that inviting you here was the right thing to do.”
Inviting. “How gratifying not to disappoint you.” The Joker rose and stretched.
“As soon as you have a list of ingredients, let me know. I’ll send some of the boys shopping. You shouldn’t go out just yet. They’ll probably be looking for you soon.”
***
Two days later, Jonathan had what he hoped was a workable list for the new compound. The next day the Joker proudly presented him with a few large bundles and he got to work. Jonathan was quickly absorbed in the process. He had always loved mixing chemicals, creating his own little works of art.
The first batch, done in about a week, was completely wrong; when he took it, Jonathan immediately threw up. There isn’t much that’s less of an aphrodisiac than that, he thought, and after a day’s puzzling over his notes he asked the Joker for a few new ingredients, which were promptly delivered.
He was pretty sure he had it this time, and worked feverishly for the next few days, barely sleeping or eating. He made great progress, except when the Joker came to poke around.
“Not to interrupt your process,” he said once, grabbing Jonathan’s wrist, “but you’re no good to me if you starve yourself to death.” He dragged him downstairs to the kitchen and then watched as Jonathan grudgingly prepared and ate a meal.
And he made him go to bed a few times as well. “You know, those ingredients of yours are expensive,” he said once after Jonathan, half-asleep on his feet, spoiled five slightly different modulations of the compound by adding a chemical too early. The Joker dragged him to the bedroom this time, tied him to the bed, and fucked him. Jonathan was asleep nearly as soon as he came. He didn’t even remember being untied, but he woke up in the middle of the night from a dream about the compound to see the Joker actually asleep next to him. So he did sleep, occasionally anyway. When he woke up in the morning, though, the Joker was gone, and Jonathan wondered if his waking in the night had been a dream.
When he wasn’t being the world’s most disturbing mother hen, the Joker was a great nuisance in the lab. He pestered Jonathan with questions or fiddled around with sensitive instruments. One day he wandered in singing under his breath. Despite his best intentions, Jonathan found himself straining to catch the lyrics.
“I could while away the hours/conversing with the flowers/conferring with the rain,” the Joker sang (extremely off-key), as he examined the rows of test tubes. “And my head I’d be scratching/while my thoughts were busy hatching/if I only had a brain!”
Jonathan didn’t look up from his work, carefully measuring a tiny amount of liquid into the vial he was holding. “You know,” he said conversationally, “just because you paint your face to look vaguely like a clown doesn’t mean you’re funny.”
The Joker gave a high-pitched giggle and left the laboratory again. Jonathan kept working.
***
A week later, the Joker was laying on one of the couches in the warehouse, staring up. His arms were outstretched, wrists crossed, thumbs hooked together, fingers splayed. He moved his fingers together slowly in a flapping motion.
One of the dimmer henchmen (John) was staring at him in fascination. “Nice job, boss, it looks like a bird!” he said. The Joker turned his head towards him very slowly. John’s face lost its smile at his expression. “Uh…right?” he asked, confused.
“Sure,” the Joker said. “It’s a bird.”
Upstairs a door slammed open and Jonathan walked rapidly down the stairs. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes were bright. The Joker looked him up and down and grinned.
“Well,” he said. “Don’t you just look good enough to eat.”
Jonathan pulled a corked test tube from his pocket and handed it to the Joker. Inside was a clear red liquid.
“What’s that?” John asked, deciding it was probably better not to assume this time.
“It’s…a little glass vial,” the Joker said.
“A little glass vial?”
“A little glass vial,” the Joker confirmed. He raised his eyebrows at Jonathan. “Well?”
“It’s finished,” Jonathan said triumphantly.
***
A/N: If you get the reference at the end of the last scene, I love you.
Author:
ellerkay (previously published under collectively)Part: 4/?
Word count: 1,905
Pairing: Joker/Scarecrow
Rating/warnings: NC-17; breathplay
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit. All characters and settings belong to Warner Brothers and DC Comics and maybe some other people too.
Summary: THE NEW COMPOUND IS REVEALED!!1!eleventy1!
A/N: This one's a bit on the short side, apologies. It was longer but I cut the beginning, it was some character stuff that I might turn into a drabble at some point.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Jonathan awoke to a wet heat enveloping his cock. He gave a small moan and stirred, blinking at the light. There was a tangle of green-blonde hair between his legs. The Joker took Jonathan’s cock slowly into his mouth and Jonathan groaned. The Joker ran his tongue along the underside and raised his head.
“Good morning,” he said. “I thought this might be a good way to welcome you to our little operation.”
“Good morning,” Jonathan replied. The Joker had somehow pulled his pajama pants down enough to expose his cock without waking him. Jonathan was surprised; he’d always considered himself a light sleeper. Still, he couldn’t exactly complain. The Joker wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked it slowly. Jonathan’s hips rose and he let his head fall back against the pillows.
“You know,” the Joker said conversationally. “You look beautiful when you sleep. Like an angel. And so innocent.”
“And you like that, do you?” Jonathan asked, panting slightly. The Joker grinned and leaned forward to swirl his tongue around the head of Jonathan’s cock. Jonathan gasped softly.
“You know, I kind of do,” the Joker said thoughtfully, as if it were a notion that had never occurred to him before. “Not that I don’t like them a bit depraved, too. And you certainly fit the bill. Letting strange men fuck you in alleys, and things like that.”
Jonathan thought that when he said “strange,” he probably didn’t mean “a stranger.” They seemed to be getting better and better acquainted, after all. His lips parted as the Joker licked his cock from root to tip.
“After I finish welcoming you, I think I should get that thank you you promised me last night,” the Joker said.
“I don’t remember promising you anything,” Jonathan said, wondering if it wasn’t a very bad idea to argue with the Joker over something he didn’t really mind doing anyway.
“Oh, you did.” The Joker licked his lips. “I saw it in your eyes.” He started stroking Jonathan’s cock again, faster now.
“Perhaps I could write you a nice card instead,” Jonathan gasped out. What in the hell was wrong with him? The strange feeling was lurking again…
The Joker laughed and slid his hand up Jonathan’s chest, letting it come to rest lightly on his throat. He didn’t put any pressure, but the meaning was clear.
“I don’t think you will,” he said. “I think you value our friendship far too much.” He took Jonathan’s cock down his throat again, and Jonathan moaned and thrust hard, reaching out and grabbing at the Joker’s shoulder. The hand at his throat didn’t go away, and as he thrust faster the Joker squeezed ever so slightly. Jonathan tried to pay attention to how much pressure he was using, but distracted as he was, he didn’t notice it was increasing until he was thrusting desperately and unable to breathe. Before he had time to panic he was cumming down the Joker’s throat. For a split second his vision clouded, but the pleasure was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced.
Then the hand was gone and Jonathan breathed in with a sharp gasp. His heart was racing, and he shuddered from the aftershocks of the orgasm. The Joker’s face appeared over his. He was grinning and licking his lips.
“My turn,” he said.
***
Jonathan made himself some toast and tea for breakfast. The kitchen, he found, was downstairs. It was a large industrial one which was shared by everyone in the building, which he didn’t mind too much, considering what he had thought living there would be like. He didn’t spend much time in the kitchen, anyway.
It seemed that not all the henchmen lived in the building, but many crashed on the couches or had turned one of the rooms into something for themselves. None of those were finished, as Jonathan’s was. He still wasn’t sure where the Joker slept. Perhaps he had claimed one of the other rooms for himself. Jonathan wondered if he slept at all.
He brought his breakfast back to his apartment, seating himself on his worn leather couch. He opened a book on multiple personalities he’d been enjoying and started reading, sipping his tea slowly. After a few bites his uneaten toast grew cold as he was drawn into the book. Eventually the last of the tea cooled as well, forgotten on the coffeetable.
“You know,” the Joker said, and Jonathan jumped, cursing the fact that he had startled him again. How could the Joker keep sneaking up on him with that shuffling walk of his?
“You really ought to eat,” the Joker said, flopping down on the couch and helping himself to a piece of toast. “You’re skin and bones. Gangly, like…” He scrutinized Jonathan thoughtfully. “Something. It’ll come to me, don’t worry.”
“Did you want something?” Jonathan asked resentfully, taking his second piece of toast before the Joker had time to steal that, too.
“Mm.” The Joker swallowed a mouthful of toast and took a sip of Jonathan’s tea before he had time to protest. He made a face. “This tea is cold. And coffee is better.”
“Then get your own,” Jonathan replied, irritated. He needed more caffeine. “What do you want?”
“Oho, not so friendly.” The Joker handed Jonathan back his now-empty mug and leaned forward, leering at him. “You were much more receptive this morning.” Jonathan stared back, stony-faced, and the Joker settled himself back against the other end of the couch.
“I thought we could have a talk about your new compound,” he said.
“Oh, yes. I’m so interested to discover what it is.” Joanthan's voice dripped with sarcasm, but the Joker beamed.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He licked his lips and grinned some more. “It’s going to be an aphrodisiac.”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Why on earth do you need with an aphrodisiac?” he asked coolly. “You could barely contain yourself on the fear toxin. It might be more effective for you than a traditional aphrodisiac.”
The Joker was shaking his head. “It’s not for me.”
“Who’s it for?” Jonathan was fairly certain he knew the answer, but he wanted to see what he’d say.
The Joker grinned but shook his head again. “This little scheme isn’t quite ready yet. I need your help.”
Jonathan regarded him for a long moment. “Why not just use a traditional aphrodisiac?” he asked finally. “There are dozens out there. Hundreds, perhaps.”
“Mm, I want it to have your special touch, doctor.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, I just like you.”
“How lucky for me,” Jonathan said drily. “As it happens, you’re in luck. I’ve considered making something like that before.”
“Oh,” the sound was half-moan. “I was so hoping you’d say that, too.”
Jonathan smiled thinly. “I’ve thought about a number of different compounds. I couldn’t make anything under such close surveillance at Arkham and in my home, of course. But I have ideas, and a few notes. It will take time, I’m not sure how long.”
The Joker was beaming again. “And I didn’t even have to threaten to kill you this time,” he said affectionately. “I knew that inviting you here was the right thing to do.”
Inviting. “How gratifying not to disappoint you.” The Joker rose and stretched.
“As soon as you have a list of ingredients, let me know. I’ll send some of the boys shopping. You shouldn’t go out just yet. They’ll probably be looking for you soon.”
***
Two days later, Jonathan had what he hoped was a workable list for the new compound. The next day the Joker proudly presented him with a few large bundles and he got to work. Jonathan was quickly absorbed in the process. He had always loved mixing chemicals, creating his own little works of art.
The first batch, done in about a week, was completely wrong; when he took it, Jonathan immediately threw up. There isn’t much that’s less of an aphrodisiac than that, he thought, and after a day’s puzzling over his notes he asked the Joker for a few new ingredients, which were promptly delivered.
He was pretty sure he had it this time, and worked feverishly for the next few days, barely sleeping or eating. He made great progress, except when the Joker came to poke around.
“Not to interrupt your process,” he said once, grabbing Jonathan’s wrist, “but you’re no good to me if you starve yourself to death.” He dragged him downstairs to the kitchen and then watched as Jonathan grudgingly prepared and ate a meal.
And he made him go to bed a few times as well. “You know, those ingredients of yours are expensive,” he said once after Jonathan, half-asleep on his feet, spoiled five slightly different modulations of the compound by adding a chemical too early. The Joker dragged him to the bedroom this time, tied him to the bed, and fucked him. Jonathan was asleep nearly as soon as he came. He didn’t even remember being untied, but he woke up in the middle of the night from a dream about the compound to see the Joker actually asleep next to him. So he did sleep, occasionally anyway. When he woke up in the morning, though, the Joker was gone, and Jonathan wondered if his waking in the night had been a dream.
When he wasn’t being the world’s most disturbing mother hen, the Joker was a great nuisance in the lab. He pestered Jonathan with questions or fiddled around with sensitive instruments. One day he wandered in singing under his breath. Despite his best intentions, Jonathan found himself straining to catch the lyrics.
“I could while away the hours/conversing with the flowers/conferring with the rain,” the Joker sang (extremely off-key), as he examined the rows of test tubes. “And my head I’d be scratching/while my thoughts were busy hatching/if I only had a brain!”
Jonathan didn’t look up from his work, carefully measuring a tiny amount of liquid into the vial he was holding. “You know,” he said conversationally, “just because you paint your face to look vaguely like a clown doesn’t mean you’re funny.”
The Joker gave a high-pitched giggle and left the laboratory again. Jonathan kept working.
***
A week later, the Joker was laying on one of the couches in the warehouse, staring up. His arms were outstretched, wrists crossed, thumbs hooked together, fingers splayed. He moved his fingers together slowly in a flapping motion.
One of the dimmer henchmen (John) was staring at him in fascination. “Nice job, boss, it looks like a bird!” he said. The Joker turned his head towards him very slowly. John’s face lost its smile at his expression. “Uh…right?” he asked, confused.
“Sure,” the Joker said. “It’s a bird.”
Upstairs a door slammed open and Jonathan walked rapidly down the stairs. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes were bright. The Joker looked him up and down and grinned.
“Well,” he said. “Don’t you just look good enough to eat.”
Jonathan pulled a corked test tube from his pocket and handed it to the Joker. Inside was a clear red liquid.
“What’s that?” John asked, deciding it was probably better not to assume this time.
“It’s…a little glass vial,” the Joker said.
“A little glass vial?”
“A little glass vial,” the Joker confirmed. He raised his eyebrows at Jonathan. “Well?”
“It’s finished,” Jonathan said triumphantly.
***
A/N: If you get the reference at the end of the last scene, I love you.
