Fun and Games | By : Morrigan Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 7462 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
The Scarecrow hid in darkened corridor of Wayne Tower, quivering with anticipation. His disguise was perfect, nary a burlap bag in sight. He’d even left the scythe and horse back at the hideout in order to blend in with the sharp-suited businessmen more easily. Nobody had paid him the slightest bit of attention, even when he’d sunk in through the broken fire escape on the thirteenth floor—a floor almost completely on their lunch break at the time—and tumbled into the janitor’s cart. He’d ridden that up to the top floor and climbed out when the janitor had been busily sleeping in an empty office. Then he’d simply stayed out of sight until he’d reached the right corridor. It had been maddeningly brilliant.
He’d only had to gas three people and they’d even fit perfectly in a supply closet. They wouldn’t even remember what had happened. He sort of hoped that they would assume they had all doing something carnal and continue. Somebody should be getting some if he wasn’t.
The Scarecrow straightened the boring tie he acquired for his Dr. Crane outfit and scratched at the woolen pullover. How on earth had he ever worn these? The straightjacket was much more comfortable and attractive.
However he’d had to don this irritating disguise in order to sneak into Wayne Tower more easily. And that sneaking was all important. Today was the day.
Today he would destroy the Batman once and for all.
He almost giggled in delight and at the last moment realized that the thin, short-haired secretary at the desk around the corner might hear, and that would be disastrous. Then his brilliant plan would fail.
A lesser villain, such as that overbearing Joker fellow that was always trying to borrow his toxin or that ingratiating Mad Hatter with his silly mind control chips, would never have deduced that Bruce Wayne was Batman. No, they lacked the intuition and cunning that had made him the head doctor at Arkham Asylum and Ra’s Al Ghul’s accomplice. They would never put two and two together and equal Bruce Wayne with a serious guilt complex and massive delusions of self-importance. Who else could possibly be Batman? It was child’s play to deduce.
Plus he’d had remembered about a week ago that Ra’s Al Ghul had told him that Bruce Wayne was definitely Batman before the Scarecrow had been gassed. He’d been so excited that he brewed up a special new version of his toxin, stealing some of the Joker’s less idiotic changes in order to make it even more exciting. Then he’d devised a plan so cunning, so extraordinary that he had barely been able to contain himself in the lair.
The Scarecrow wrapped his arms around his body and heaved a silent chuckle. Batman would never see it coming.
Suddenly he heard the noise he’d been waiting for, the telltale beep of the elevator reaching the top floor. He stilled completely, readying himself for the stunning execution of his exquisite plan. The doors opened slowly, revealing the Batman standing alone, dressed in his attractive but infuriating Bruce Wayne costume.
The Scarecrow pounced.
* * *
Bruce Wayne glared at the business reports in his hands as the elevator approached the top floor of Wayne Tower. He should never have mentioned to Lucius Fox that he was interested in the daily workings of the company. Now he was forced to do grunt work on a Saturday when he could have been out doing broody and dark kinds of work as Batman.
At least Fox was letting him use the boardroom for his office. He liked the CEO table. It was so big.
The elevator beeped as it arrived at its stop and the doors slid open. He didn’t look up as he walked in, prepared to greet Fox’s secretary professionally and not flirt with her this time.
Suddenly a white cloud was surrounding him, launched by a dark cackling figure leaping energetically nearby. He reached out and grabbed the figure firmly by the arm, waving the smoke away from his face in genuine panic. He examined the man in his grasp and felt his stomach sink.
“Dr. Crane?” Bruce dragged him around the corner quickly to ensure that Jessica the Secretary was all right. She looked at the two in shock, her hand reached midway out to the phone.
“What’s happening?” Jessica asked hesitantly
“Tremble before me for I have vanquished the Batman!” Crane shouted, trying in vain to pull out of Bruce’s iron grasp.
“Huh?”
“Call the cops,” Bruce ordered sharply, hoping that either she’d missed the Batman reference or would later chalk it up to Crane’s obvious insanity. He yanked the doctor up to him and hissed out quietly, “What did you use on me, you psycho?”
Crane laughed happily, shaking his head and putting a finger up to his lips.
“Well, whatever it was, it didn’t work. I don’t feel any fear.” Suddenly Bruce froze, overcome by a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. He glanced down at the doctor, noticing, for what felt like the first time since, that he was dressed in the normal clothes he’d worn before the straightjacket. They were all wrinkled and too big, but looked extremely…good on his thin frame. He also couldn’t help but notice the mad doctor’s manic blue eyes twinkling so merrily at him behind his broken spectacles, devastatingly attractive even in their madness. Not to mention his moist lips, half-open in a frustrated gasp, just daring someone to take a bite out of the bottom one.
“I just feel really….hot,” Bruce concluded and his grip on the doctor tightened. The heat was racing with wild abandon throughout his body, leaving him rock hard and irritated. Suddenly the only important thing in the world seemed to be getting Crane out of his clothes and onto a flat surface so that he could fuck him over and over.
“What?” Crane’s delighted grin had split in half, one still expressing his joy over having taken out Batman and the other more rational half showing that he knew things had just gone very wrong for him. Or extremely right.
Bruce started dragging Crane towards the boardroom. He pointed to Jessica the Secretary. “Put down that phone!”
“Sir?” Jessica’s expression half-matched Crane’s. Both were staring at Bruce as though he’d lost his mind.
“I said put down that phone. I want you to hold my calls for the rest of the day.” Bruce flung open the door to the boardroom and practically carried the struggling Crane inside.
“The rest of the day!” Jessica and Crane exclaimed together, both sounding horrified. The door swung shut behind the two men and Jessica was left alone in the receptionist’s office, with only the noises in the other room to keep her company.
“We should really sit down and talk about this rationally, Batman,” Crane babbled, watching with wide eyes as Bruce let him go enough to start unbuttoning his wrinkled jacket.
Bruce yanked him up by the lapels and growled in his face, “I don’t feel very rational!”
He jerked the doctor around by his sleeve, pulling off that wrinkled jacket as he spun him around so that the younger man’s back was facing the CEO table. Bruce licked his lips at Crane’s dazed expression, the heat in his own body so overwhelming that the slight hint of desire in those baby blues was enough to break his last ties of control. He slammed the doctor onto the table, forcing his lips over that full tempting mouth.
Crane floundered helplessly under him, lacking even the good sense to kiss him back as Bruce tasted every square inch of his mouth. “Nnnhmm aht naign.”
“What did you say?” Bruce asked, pulling his lips reluctantly away in order to stare at the doctor. Stare and start pulling his own jacket and shirt off with reckless abandon, revealing his toned upper torso.
“This isn’t right,” Crane repeated, looking wildly over to the spray canister still in his hands. “You’re supposed to tremble in fear before me!”
“Why don’t you show me how it’s done,” Bruce suggested, reaching for Crane’s pullover eagerly. He was going to make the damned arrogant criminal scream his name, that’s what he was going to do. He was going to make Crane forget all about his little schemes and toxins.
Once he’d removed Crane’s hideous pullover, tie, and shirt, he was left only with the sight of a lean shaking chest. Bruce attacked the nearest nipple fiercely with his teeth, pulling and sucking until tightened before he moved onto the next one.
“Oh, that’s good!” Crane moaned, arching his body up against Bruce’s mouth. Then his eyes widened in shock. “No, not good. The opposite of. The antithesis. The anti-good. You have to stop!”
“Shut up.” Bruce quickly divested the doctor of his shoes, slacks, and underwear, leaving him naked on the great wooden table. Then the billionaire was standing up, pulling off the remainder of his own clothes in an uncontrolled rush. His whole body ached when he wasn’t touching the doctor. He had to touch him, had to lick him, had to bite and suck and make him know that he was in Batman’s hands now and he had better like it.
He was back against Crane in a second, their naked bodies twisting together frantically as they kissed once more. Despite the doctor’s protests he was giving as good as he got, scratching down Bruce’s arms and back in livid marks of passion.
“Please stop,” Crane whispered heatedly, moving his lips to Bruce’s neck in a fury of hard biting and gentle licking. “Stop some more for me.”
“That’s right, you little bastard,” Bruce muttered, sliding his fingers into that warm mouth and fucking it rapidly, wishing he’d thought to have Jessica send in some lubrication for him. “I’ll stop. I’ll stop when you’re even more of a quivering mess of a man, hoping that I won’t take you again and knowing that I will. I’m going to make you pay for everything you’ve done to me.”
With no more explanation he forced those wet fingers into Crane’s hole, grinning maliciously at his sudden long shriek of pain. Pain that turned schizophrenically into pleasure as Bruce found his prostate and rubbed over it. He stretched out the tight entrance roughly, feeling a little hotter and harder every time Crane let out a muffled cry. Soon he could take no more.
He replaced his fingers with his aching cock, lining it up and slamming inside frantically. Crane howled under him, obscenities and psychological observations flying out of his mouth like they were helping him squirm and twist and thrust back against Bruce’s cock.
“You’re mine, Crane.” Bruce yanked the man’s hands up over his head and lowered his face almost to the table. “I made you and that makes you mine. Mine to hurt, mine to rip, and mine to have!”
Crane screamed, a sound that was oddly similar to his nightmarish fits in the Asylum, and came hard, spraying both their stomachs and getting no small amount on the table.
Bruce pulled Crane’s limp legs up roughly and thrust a few more dozen times, grinning wildly as the doctor’s body jerked like a rag doll. Or a scarecrow. Then he was coming in an angry rush, as though his spending would purge his system of this damnable heat.
Bruce yanked out and stared in shock at his still-erect cock. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
“Oh dear.” Crane tittered helplessly, his eyes locked on Bruce’s dick over tilted glasses. “I absolutely went into the wrong business.”
“You came without permission.” Bruce slowly slid Crane down the table and turned him around. Soon he had Crane leaning over, Bruce standing behind and sliding his cock back into him. Bruce started moving again, his lips pulled back in a feral smile. “This time you ask first or I’ll skull-fuck you until this damn toxin wears off.”
Crane’s only reply was a low moan and a high-pitched giggle. Bruce decided to take it as a ‘yes, sir’ and slapped the firm ass in front of him.
“I’m going to get you straightened out yet,” Bruce said happily and readied himself for a long day of fighting evil.
It was good to be Batman.
* * *
Deep in the recesses of the Narrows, past the good parts and the bad parts and straight into the crazy parts was an abandoned funhouse. It was currently home to Gotham’s most wanted criminals, in an attempt to pool their resources and eat the Mad Hatter’s surprisingly good cooking. A lean police horse was chewing on some moving bushes and snorting contentedly.
Inside the warehouse, past the hyena cage and the makeshift miniaturized maze garden shaped to look like Wonderland, was a tidy little desk. On it lied several notebooks, vials, a long scythe that took up a better part of the space, and a ragged straightjacket neatly folded with a burlap sack on top. Next to the straightjacket were a small note and a beaker containing a white liquid. It was neatly labeled “Scarecrow’s REAL toxin”. The note simply read:
Dearest Scarecrow,
Next time don’t take my stuff without asking!
Hope that you liked my little joke. I know Harley did!
Hugs and kisses,
The Joker
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