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Jan. 26th, 2009 09:54 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: 2/?
Word count:
Pairing: Joker/Scarecrow
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit. All characters and settings belong to Warner Brothers and DC Comics.
Summary: The Joker shows up at Jonathan’s apartment with a proposition.
Part 1
It was Sunday, late in the morning, and while Jonathan preferred to spend his weekends reading new publications on psychology and psychopharmacology, occasionally he ran out of food. This usually seemed to happen when he had spent twelve straight hours reading, realized he hadn’t eaten all day, and went to his refrigerator to find nothing but an old bottle of ketchup.
That had occurred Saturday night, and so Jonathan had ordered lo mein from a late-night Chinese food place and went shopping in the morning. He returned to his apartment with a couple bags of groceries and when he unlocked the door and entered, he instantly knew something was wrong.
The curtains were all shut tight, casting the apartment into a semi-dark gloom. Jonathan slowly put down the bags of groceries, put his keys on the table next to the door, and started to reach for the light switch.
“Morning, doctor,” came a nasal voice from the shadows, and the hall light flipped on, revealing the Joker, back in his makeup and usual sort of clothing. His menace, Jonathan decided, no longer appeared dormant.
The door was still open behind him, and Jonathan must have twitched unconsciously towards it because the Joker suddenly sprang forward, arm extended, to slam it closed. He kept moving, his other arm against Jonathan’s upper chest, forcing him back against the door. A knife appeared from who knows where and he pressed the flat of it against Jonathan’s neck, almost enough that the blade cut into his skin, but not quite.
Jonathan’s breathing was shallow and he knew his eyes were wider than they should be, but he forced calm into his voice. “Hello, Joker,” he said. “You know, I don’t normally see clients on Sundays.”
“Just the one-time exception then,” the Joker replied. Jonathan was aware of the Joker’s body pressed against his, and he hoped rather desperately that he wouldn’t get an erection. He’d been thinking about the Joker a little too much, despite his resolution.
“We’ve missed you at Arkham,” Jonathan said drily, trying to talk carefully around the knife. “Everyone’s been wondering how you managed your mysterious escape.”
The Joker smirked. “If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret, hmm?” he replied. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Jonathan replied. The Joker leaned in even closer, making the knife shift slightly, and Jonathan was relieved despite the danger that most of his own attention was now focused on the placement of the knife, instead of the Joker’s body against him.
“That cute Dr. Quinzel helped,” came the whisper, harsh and hot in his ear. The Joker pulled back again. “She’s a naughty thing, isn’t she? Between hiring you back…and helping me out…I’m starting to think she has a…thing for villains, what about you?”
“Identification with patients is a common occurrence during analysis,” Jonathan agreed. He was almost about to launch into a long explanation of the phenomenon, but the Joker must have sensed it, because he slid the flat of the knife slowly across Jonathan’s throat, effectively shutting him up.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, doctor,” he said, letting the blade come to rest on the other side of Jonathan’s neck. “Most doctors don’t do housecalls these days, so I thought I’d make it easy and come to you.”
“Somehow I don’t think you’re looking to continue our sessions,” Jonathan replied. The Joker laughed and abruptly stood back. Jonathan’s knees felt slightly weak and he wasn’t sure if it was more from fear or repressed desire.
“That’s where you’re wrong, doctor,” the Joker said. “I do want to continue, with perhaps a slight change of format.”
“Meaning?” Jonathan straightened his back and then his clothes, looking the Joker in the face. It was easier not to betray the fear now; it even seemed like maybe the Joker wasn’t here to kill him. Though, he reminded himself, it’s impossible to predict him, so don’t even try, because you’ll be wrong and that’ll just make things worse.
“Meaning, I have a proposition for you.”
“What is that?”
“I want to make your dreams come true.” The Joker was staring into his eyes, and Jonathan stared back without blinking. “I’m going to let you try that little compound on me.”
Well, he was hard now, and no use pretending otherwise. Jonathan reached into his breast pocket and took out a cloth, removed his glasses, and wiped them thoroughly. When he was finished he replaced both and looked at the Joker again.
“What are you asking in return?”
The Joker giggled. “Oh, you’re a canny one, aren’t you? Everything has a price these days.”
“What’s yours?”
“How do you know I don’t just want to be nice to my favorite doctor?” Jonathan raised his eyebrows without replying and the Joker grinned. “What about we just say you owe me a favor?”
“Without having any idea what that might be? I don’t think so.”
“What if I promise it’ll be something you want to do? It only seems fair; I want to try this drug almost as much as you want to give it to me. I’ll just have to come up with something in return that I want a little more than you do.”
It was sheer folly to agree to this; Jonathan knew that perfectly well. But…he was almost aching with the desire to dose the Joker with his compound. And more than that, he had the feeling the Joker was telling the truth that whatever he asked in return would be something he wanted, too. The Joker seemed to keep his word, in a twisted way. Jonathan thought that, more than likely, what would be terrible would be seeing what he was capable of wanting. But…“What makes you think I even have any more?” he asked.
“Because,” the Joker replied, and Jonathan found himself suddenly pinned to the door again, knife at his throat. Déjà vu just isn’t what it used to be, said the strange little voice in his mind. “If you don’t have any, I’m going to kill you. And I don’t want to kill you. You’re too pretty to die.”
Jonathan tried to formulate a response but in quick succession he saw the Joker frown, a light of understanding dawn, and a triumphant smile spread wider than usual over his face.
“Oh, doctor,” he said. “I had no idea you felt that way.” He shifted his leg so that it was pressing more firmly against Jonathan’s erection, and Jonathan tried to force down a moan. He was successful, but less so at suppressing the small gasp that rose to his lips when he realized the Joker was grinding his own erection into his hip.
“Now I really hope you’ve got that drug,” the Joker said.
“I do,” Jonathan replied, voice calm despite the fear and arousal coursing through him. To his silent disappointment, the Joker stepped back.
“Get it,” he said, gesturing with the knife.
Jonathan walked swiftly to his bedroom and pushed the bed a few feet to the side. He pried up a loose floorboard and looked lovingly into the space underneath. There were five vials of a clear liquid, the dispenser that turned it into a spray, and his mask. He pulled the mask out first and held it for a second, noticing with some faraway part of his mind that his hands were shaking slightly with excitement. They had taken his mask when he’d been arrested, of course, but he’d made a new one as soon as he was able. It was easy enough, and though he hadn’t had an opportunity to wear it, it made him feel better just to know it was there.
He pulled out the dispenser and one of the vials and loaded it smoothly, the movements familiar and oddly soothing. He switched on the gas mask and pulled the hood over his head. For a moment he listened to the harsh sound of his own breathing. It had been so long since he’d gotten to do this, and even with the strange feeling niggling in the back of his mind, he felt somehow more himself than he had in ages.
“I’m getting impatient, doctor,” called the Joker from the other room. Jonathan rose and went to the living room, where the Joker was sprawled out on the couch. Even in the semidarkness, Jonathan could see the gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
“There you are,” he said, looking him up and down. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“If you want the full effects, I suggest you breathe in deeply,” Jonathan said, raised his arm, and sprayed the Joker in the face. The Joker breathed so deep and fast it almost sounded like a gasp and began laughing hysterically, writhing on the couch. Jonathan crouched down beside him, watching carefully.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and the Joker only laughed harder. Jonathan noticed that the Joker’s erection didn’t seem to have subsided in the least.
“Oh, doctor,” the Joker giggled, and grabbed his arm and stared at him, eyes wide. “They ought to distribute this in the schools.”
“What do you see?”
“Bats,” the Joker moaned. His eyes were rolling in their sockets now and he was snatching in air, grasping for nothing. “Why won’t they come to me?”
Jonathan watched in fascination, and then suddenly the Joker launched himself off the couch, knocking Jonathan to the floor and somehow pulling off his mask and pinning him down in one lightning-fast move. Jonathan couldn’t help but give a little moan at the sudden friction on his cock. The Joker thrust once against him and moaned himself. He was shaking and breathing hard, but his fingers felt like steel around Jonathan’s wrists. He put his mouth down close to Jonathan’s ear.
“I have to ask you a favor,” the Joker said, voice low. He pressed his lips to Jonathan’s neck and stuck out his tongue like he was tasting his skin, then bit down hard, making Jonathan yelp.
“I keep thinking about those pretty lips of yours,” the Joker continued, and then his lips were at Jonathan’s. He kissed him hard, and Jonathan found himself kissing back, tasting the red makeup, hips rising to thrust against the Joker’s leg. When the Joker sucked his bottom lip into his mouth Jonathan moaned again, the strange feeling rising suddenly like a wave in his mind, threatening to overtake him. The Joker bit down so hard Jonathan wondered if he was bleeding, but the pain cleared his mind.
“And I really think – ” Was he still talking? “I really think those lips should be put to good use.” The Joker rolled off him suddenly and Jonathan was left panting on the floor as the Joker settled himself on the couch again, sitting this time, leaning back with his hips jutted out, his erection straining against his brightly colored pants. Jonathan raised himself slowly onto his elbows, conscious of how debauched he must look already; hair mussed, lips swollen, face smeared with red and white. He looked at the Joker, who was still shaking but grinning uncontrollably as well.
Of course, Jonathan thought suddenly. Fear is an aphrodisiac to him. That explains his obsession with the Batman, or part of it, at least. It seemed so obvious now, Jonathan was briefly angry with himself for failing to see it sooner.
“If you do it well enough…” The Joker smacked his lips. “I might just return the favor.”
The image hit Jonathan like a punch, and his cock throbbed. Feeling slightly dazed, he got to his knees without a word and moved between the Joker’s parted legs. He undid the Joker’s pants and pulled his cock free, looking at it for a moment almost with clinical detachment, running his fingers up and down the shaft and swiping his thumb across the head, eliciting a moan from the Joker. It seemed ordinary; perhaps on the larger side of average, medium thickness, circumcised. Jonathan felt faintly surprised that anything about the Joker could be ordinary.
He bent his head and licked slowly up the underside, swirling his tongue around the head. The Joker groaned and Jonathan felt his fingers slither into his hair and grip tightly, to the point of pain. He was pushing down and Jonathan, unsure of where the knife had gone, thought it was best to take the suggestion and let his lips slide down the length of him, taking it as slowly as he could with the pressure on his head.
When he bumped the back of his throat and Jonathan gagged the pressure eased up a little, and Jonathan was able to wrap his hand around the base of the Joker’s cock.
“Fuck,” the Joker gasped, as Jonathan started to slide his hand and mouth up and down in time. For once, the Joker didn’t sound like he was laughing behind his voice, and the thought of the Joker ever so slightly not in command made Jonathan moan without entirely meaning to. The Joker grunted and his hand tightened in Jonathan’s hair again.
“Look at me…look at me,” the Joker growled, and with some difficulty Jonathan turned his neck so he could look into the Joker’s black eyes.
“Just as good as I thought,” the Joker said, and he started to thrust a little, pressing Jonathan to go faster. Jonathan did his best to follow the rhythm and relax his throat, and within a couple of minutes the Joker was groaning continuously. He came without warning, his hand on Jonathan’s head straining his neck with its force. Most of his release went down Jonathan’s throat past his tongue, but he tasted the last spurt. It was salty and bitter, and there was something in it that almost reminded him of the taste of the makeup. Jonathan wondered if he could have swallowed so much of it that it was now part of his bloodstream.
Jonathan got up slowly. The Joker was sitting back, eyes closed.
“Do you still feel the effects of the compound?” Jonathan asked, and the Joker’s eyes snapped open. He hastily did up his pants, then jumped to his feet and shoved Jonathan down to where he’d been sitting, fumbling with the opening of Jonathan’s pants now. His hands, Jonathan noted, were still shaking.
“It could benefit my research if you told me – aahh,” Jonathan gasped, as the Joker took him into his mouth all at once, down his throat. He hadn’t even gagged, and his hands were active, stroking Jonathan’s legs and tracing his stomach. Jonathan leaned back and shut his eyes. The suction was impressive, almost too much. As the Joker slid him slowly out of his mouth Jonathan felt his teeth dance ever so lightly on his skin and the sensation made him twist automatically, half from the pleasure and half out of fear that he was going to bite a lot harder than that. But he didn’t, and his hands were on Jonathan’s hips now, squeezing so hard Jonathan wondered if he’d have bruises later.
The Joker took Jonathan’s cock into his mouth again, tongue writhing along the underside till Jonathan’s vision blurred. He wanted desperately to bury his fingers in the Joker’s hair and fuck his mouth, but he wasn’t sure that a display of dominance like that would be taken well, and squeezed his nails into his palms instead. He quickly found it was unnecessary anyway; the Joker was bobbing his head fast now and even though he was holding his hips too tightly for Jonathan to be able to thrust, he felt his orgasm building swiftly, the lack of control maddening and unbelievably exciting until he came with a strangled groan into the Joker’s mouth.
The Joker looked up and held Jonathan’s eyes, swallowing audibly. He grinned.
“Good session, doctor,” he said. He got to his feet and gave Jonathan an obscene kiss, more tongue than lips, and then he turned and left the room. Jonathan heard his apartment door open and then slam shut.
He sat for a few minutes without moving, letting his breathing calm, his heart rate slow, feeling the aftershocks in his body. Slowly he got up and went to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes without folding them, for once just letting them fall onto the floor. He turned on the shower and got in.
As the hot water coursed over his skin, Jonathan wondered what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.
Author:
ellerkay (previously published under collectively)Part: 2/?
Word count:
Pairing: Joker/Scarecrow
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit. All characters and settings belong to Warner Brothers and DC Comics.
Summary: The Joker shows up at Jonathan’s apartment with a proposition.
Part 1
It was Sunday, late in the morning, and while Jonathan preferred to spend his weekends reading new publications on psychology and psychopharmacology, occasionally he ran out of food. This usually seemed to happen when he had spent twelve straight hours reading, realized he hadn’t eaten all day, and went to his refrigerator to find nothing but an old bottle of ketchup.
That had occurred Saturday night, and so Jonathan had ordered lo mein from a late-night Chinese food place and went shopping in the morning. He returned to his apartment with a couple bags of groceries and when he unlocked the door and entered, he instantly knew something was wrong.
The curtains were all shut tight, casting the apartment into a semi-dark gloom. Jonathan slowly put down the bags of groceries, put his keys on the table next to the door, and started to reach for the light switch.
“Morning, doctor,” came a nasal voice from the shadows, and the hall light flipped on, revealing the Joker, back in his makeup and usual sort of clothing. His menace, Jonathan decided, no longer appeared dormant.
The door was still open behind him, and Jonathan must have twitched unconsciously towards it because the Joker suddenly sprang forward, arm extended, to slam it closed. He kept moving, his other arm against Jonathan’s upper chest, forcing him back against the door. A knife appeared from who knows where and he pressed the flat of it against Jonathan’s neck, almost enough that the blade cut into his skin, but not quite.
Jonathan’s breathing was shallow and he knew his eyes were wider than they should be, but he forced calm into his voice. “Hello, Joker,” he said. “You know, I don’t normally see clients on Sundays.”
“Just the one-time exception then,” the Joker replied. Jonathan was aware of the Joker’s body pressed against his, and he hoped rather desperately that he wouldn’t get an erection. He’d been thinking about the Joker a little too much, despite his resolution.
“We’ve missed you at Arkham,” Jonathan said drily, trying to talk carefully around the knife. “Everyone’s been wondering how you managed your mysterious escape.”
The Joker smirked. “If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret, hmm?” he replied. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Jonathan replied. The Joker leaned in even closer, making the knife shift slightly, and Jonathan was relieved despite the danger that most of his own attention was now focused on the placement of the knife, instead of the Joker’s body against him.
“That cute Dr. Quinzel helped,” came the whisper, harsh and hot in his ear. The Joker pulled back again. “She’s a naughty thing, isn’t she? Between hiring you back…and helping me out…I’m starting to think she has a…thing for villains, what about you?”
“Identification with patients is a common occurrence during analysis,” Jonathan agreed. He was almost about to launch into a long explanation of the phenomenon, but the Joker must have sensed it, because he slid the flat of the knife slowly across Jonathan’s throat, effectively shutting him up.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, doctor,” he said, letting the blade come to rest on the other side of Jonathan’s neck. “Most doctors don’t do housecalls these days, so I thought I’d make it easy and come to you.”
“Somehow I don’t think you’re looking to continue our sessions,” Jonathan replied. The Joker laughed and abruptly stood back. Jonathan’s knees felt slightly weak and he wasn’t sure if it was more from fear or repressed desire.
“That’s where you’re wrong, doctor,” the Joker said. “I do want to continue, with perhaps a slight change of format.”
“Meaning?” Jonathan straightened his back and then his clothes, looking the Joker in the face. It was easier not to betray the fear now; it even seemed like maybe the Joker wasn’t here to kill him. Though, he reminded himself, it’s impossible to predict him, so don’t even try, because you’ll be wrong and that’ll just make things worse.
“Meaning, I have a proposition for you.”
“What is that?”
“I want to make your dreams come true.” The Joker was staring into his eyes, and Jonathan stared back without blinking. “I’m going to let you try that little compound on me.”
Well, he was hard now, and no use pretending otherwise. Jonathan reached into his breast pocket and took out a cloth, removed his glasses, and wiped them thoroughly. When he was finished he replaced both and looked at the Joker again.
“What are you asking in return?”
The Joker giggled. “Oh, you’re a canny one, aren’t you? Everything has a price these days.”
“What’s yours?”
“How do you know I don’t just want to be nice to my favorite doctor?” Jonathan raised his eyebrows without replying and the Joker grinned. “What about we just say you owe me a favor?”
“Without having any idea what that might be? I don’t think so.”
“What if I promise it’ll be something you want to do? It only seems fair; I want to try this drug almost as much as you want to give it to me. I’ll just have to come up with something in return that I want a little more than you do.”
It was sheer folly to agree to this; Jonathan knew that perfectly well. But…he was almost aching with the desire to dose the Joker with his compound. And more than that, he had the feeling the Joker was telling the truth that whatever he asked in return would be something he wanted, too. The Joker seemed to keep his word, in a twisted way. Jonathan thought that, more than likely, what would be terrible would be seeing what he was capable of wanting. But…“What makes you think I even have any more?” he asked.
“Because,” the Joker replied, and Jonathan found himself suddenly pinned to the door again, knife at his throat. Déjà vu just isn’t what it used to be, said the strange little voice in his mind. “If you don’t have any, I’m going to kill you. And I don’t want to kill you. You’re too pretty to die.”
Jonathan tried to formulate a response but in quick succession he saw the Joker frown, a light of understanding dawn, and a triumphant smile spread wider than usual over his face.
“Oh, doctor,” he said. “I had no idea you felt that way.” He shifted his leg so that it was pressing more firmly against Jonathan’s erection, and Jonathan tried to force down a moan. He was successful, but less so at suppressing the small gasp that rose to his lips when he realized the Joker was grinding his own erection into his hip.
“Now I really hope you’ve got that drug,” the Joker said.
“I do,” Jonathan replied, voice calm despite the fear and arousal coursing through him. To his silent disappointment, the Joker stepped back.
“Get it,” he said, gesturing with the knife.
Jonathan walked swiftly to his bedroom and pushed the bed a few feet to the side. He pried up a loose floorboard and looked lovingly into the space underneath. There were five vials of a clear liquid, the dispenser that turned it into a spray, and his mask. He pulled the mask out first and held it for a second, noticing with some faraway part of his mind that his hands were shaking slightly with excitement. They had taken his mask when he’d been arrested, of course, but he’d made a new one as soon as he was able. It was easy enough, and though he hadn’t had an opportunity to wear it, it made him feel better just to know it was there.
He pulled out the dispenser and one of the vials and loaded it smoothly, the movements familiar and oddly soothing. He switched on the gas mask and pulled the hood over his head. For a moment he listened to the harsh sound of his own breathing. It had been so long since he’d gotten to do this, and even with the strange feeling niggling in the back of his mind, he felt somehow more himself than he had in ages.
“I’m getting impatient, doctor,” called the Joker from the other room. Jonathan rose and went to the living room, where the Joker was sprawled out on the couch. Even in the semidarkness, Jonathan could see the gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
“There you are,” he said, looking him up and down. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“If you want the full effects, I suggest you breathe in deeply,” Jonathan said, raised his arm, and sprayed the Joker in the face. The Joker breathed so deep and fast it almost sounded like a gasp and began laughing hysterically, writhing on the couch. Jonathan crouched down beside him, watching carefully.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and the Joker only laughed harder. Jonathan noticed that the Joker’s erection didn’t seem to have subsided in the least.
“Oh, doctor,” the Joker giggled, and grabbed his arm and stared at him, eyes wide. “They ought to distribute this in the schools.”
“What do you see?”
“Bats,” the Joker moaned. His eyes were rolling in their sockets now and he was snatching in air, grasping for nothing. “Why won’t they come to me?”
Jonathan watched in fascination, and then suddenly the Joker launched himself off the couch, knocking Jonathan to the floor and somehow pulling off his mask and pinning him down in one lightning-fast move. Jonathan couldn’t help but give a little moan at the sudden friction on his cock. The Joker thrust once against him and moaned himself. He was shaking and breathing hard, but his fingers felt like steel around Jonathan’s wrists. He put his mouth down close to Jonathan’s ear.
“I have to ask you a favor,” the Joker said, voice low. He pressed his lips to Jonathan’s neck and stuck out his tongue like he was tasting his skin, then bit down hard, making Jonathan yelp.
“I keep thinking about those pretty lips of yours,” the Joker continued, and then his lips were at Jonathan’s. He kissed him hard, and Jonathan found himself kissing back, tasting the red makeup, hips rising to thrust against the Joker’s leg. When the Joker sucked his bottom lip into his mouth Jonathan moaned again, the strange feeling rising suddenly like a wave in his mind, threatening to overtake him. The Joker bit down so hard Jonathan wondered if he was bleeding, but the pain cleared his mind.
“And I really think – ” Was he still talking? “I really think those lips should be put to good use.” The Joker rolled off him suddenly and Jonathan was left panting on the floor as the Joker settled himself on the couch again, sitting this time, leaning back with his hips jutted out, his erection straining against his brightly colored pants. Jonathan raised himself slowly onto his elbows, conscious of how debauched he must look already; hair mussed, lips swollen, face smeared with red and white. He looked at the Joker, who was still shaking but grinning uncontrollably as well.
Of course, Jonathan thought suddenly. Fear is an aphrodisiac to him. That explains his obsession with the Batman, or part of it, at least. It seemed so obvious now, Jonathan was briefly angry with himself for failing to see it sooner.
“If you do it well enough…” The Joker smacked his lips. “I might just return the favor.”
The image hit Jonathan like a punch, and his cock throbbed. Feeling slightly dazed, he got to his knees without a word and moved between the Joker’s parted legs. He undid the Joker’s pants and pulled his cock free, looking at it for a moment almost with clinical detachment, running his fingers up and down the shaft and swiping his thumb across the head, eliciting a moan from the Joker. It seemed ordinary; perhaps on the larger side of average, medium thickness, circumcised. Jonathan felt faintly surprised that anything about the Joker could be ordinary.
He bent his head and licked slowly up the underside, swirling his tongue around the head. The Joker groaned and Jonathan felt his fingers slither into his hair and grip tightly, to the point of pain. He was pushing down and Jonathan, unsure of where the knife had gone, thought it was best to take the suggestion and let his lips slide down the length of him, taking it as slowly as he could with the pressure on his head.
When he bumped the back of his throat and Jonathan gagged the pressure eased up a little, and Jonathan was able to wrap his hand around the base of the Joker’s cock.
“Fuck,” the Joker gasped, as Jonathan started to slide his hand and mouth up and down in time. For once, the Joker didn’t sound like he was laughing behind his voice, and the thought of the Joker ever so slightly not in command made Jonathan moan without entirely meaning to. The Joker grunted and his hand tightened in Jonathan’s hair again.
“Look at me…look at me,” the Joker growled, and with some difficulty Jonathan turned his neck so he could look into the Joker’s black eyes.
“Just as good as I thought,” the Joker said, and he started to thrust a little, pressing Jonathan to go faster. Jonathan did his best to follow the rhythm and relax his throat, and within a couple of minutes the Joker was groaning continuously. He came without warning, his hand on Jonathan’s head straining his neck with its force. Most of his release went down Jonathan’s throat past his tongue, but he tasted the last spurt. It was salty and bitter, and there was something in it that almost reminded him of the taste of the makeup. Jonathan wondered if he could have swallowed so much of it that it was now part of his bloodstream.
Jonathan got up slowly. The Joker was sitting back, eyes closed.
“Do you still feel the effects of the compound?” Jonathan asked, and the Joker’s eyes snapped open. He hastily did up his pants, then jumped to his feet and shoved Jonathan down to where he’d been sitting, fumbling with the opening of Jonathan’s pants now. His hands, Jonathan noted, were still shaking.
“It could benefit my research if you told me – aahh,” Jonathan gasped, as the Joker took him into his mouth all at once, down his throat. He hadn’t even gagged, and his hands were active, stroking Jonathan’s legs and tracing his stomach. Jonathan leaned back and shut his eyes. The suction was impressive, almost too much. As the Joker slid him slowly out of his mouth Jonathan felt his teeth dance ever so lightly on his skin and the sensation made him twist automatically, half from the pleasure and half out of fear that he was going to bite a lot harder than that. But he didn’t, and his hands were on Jonathan’s hips now, squeezing so hard Jonathan wondered if he’d have bruises later.
The Joker took Jonathan’s cock into his mouth again, tongue writhing along the underside till Jonathan’s vision blurred. He wanted desperately to bury his fingers in the Joker’s hair and fuck his mouth, but he wasn’t sure that a display of dominance like that would be taken well, and squeezed his nails into his palms instead. He quickly found it was unnecessary anyway; the Joker was bobbing his head fast now and even though he was holding his hips too tightly for Jonathan to be able to thrust, he felt his orgasm building swiftly, the lack of control maddening and unbelievably exciting until he came with a strangled groan into the Joker’s mouth.
The Joker looked up and held Jonathan’s eyes, swallowing audibly. He grinned.
“Good session, doctor,” he said. He got to his feet and gave Jonathan an obscene kiss, more tongue than lips, and then he turned and left the room. Jonathan heard his apartment door open and then slam shut.
He sat for a few minutes without moving, letting his breathing calm, his heart rate slow, feeling the aftershocks in his body. Slowly he got up and went to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes without folding them, for once just letting them fall onto the floor. He turned on the shower and got in.
As the hot water coursed over his skin, Jonathan wondered what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.
