Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Power Struggle	By : MothInFlames Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 2998 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Dr. Jonathan Crane cringed as his back was slammed against the wall. He felt dizzy, like the warehouse was spiraling around him. He could feel warm liquid running down his torso from the long gashes on his chest and back. It was nothing he could bleed to death from, but it was enough to send stinging pain through his body. Long fingernails began to dig into his bare right shoulder. He winced, cursing himself for showing his pain. His eyes began to focus, and he could make out those horrific marks that had ultimately killed hundreds. They cut into the Joker’s face, marking what would have been quite handsome as something hideous. There was a gleam of metal under the fluorescent lights. Crane’s breath caught in his throat as the blade was gently pressed against his lips. The Joker loosened his grip on his pale shoulder. His rough fingers barely ran over the scratch marks. He leaned forward, his vest pressing against his victim’s pale chest. His lips ran over the doctor’s ear as he whispered, barely audible.
“Do you really want to know…what scares me…doctor?”
--
The moment the Joker was dragged into Arkham, he caught Dr. Crane’s eye. He was a truly captivating specimen. He lived for chaos, for himself. He went through his motions with reckless abandon. He laughed in the face of death. In the face of the Batman. He had become a force both feared and respected in the criminal underground, especially among the insane. Everyone knew what made him laugh. The Scarecrow wanted to know what made him scream. He wanted to know how far he could bend the Joker’s demented brain before it completely snapped. He wanted to know what it felt like to control that much chaos and send it reeling into catatonic fear. The Joker escaped from Arkham a week after Crane had done the same. The timing was perfect for the doctor’s examination. He had sent word out on the street for the Joker to meet with him. Like a stranger offering candy, Dr. Crane had offered up his toxin in exchange for the Joker’s aid.
The Joker was never much of one to offer a helping hand.
--
From the moment the Joker arrived, Crane could feel the warm chaos twirling in the air like a schizophrenic ballerina. The man clad in purple, in contrast to his grey, had taken over the situation from the moment he stepped in the old warehouse. He carried himself with a cocky air about him. His smile betrayed no sense of discomfort or agitation. He was simply a man on a mission. The doctor sat behind an old desk in the center of the room. A small suitcase sat placidly on his desk next to an old office lamp.
“Oh, I suppose it’s big enough doctor,” he said with a grin. The Joker held out his hands and looked around the room. “But the location is less than desirable.” The Joker licked his lips and strode towards the desk, shaking his head lazily. “Gotta tell you, doctor, I’m a little disappointed.”
“And why’s that?” Crane asked from his swivel chair. He smiled coolly, not betraying a bit of emotion.
“No bodyguards,” the Joker stopped in front of the desk. “No weapons-”
“No mask,” Crane interrupted. The Joker stared at him and smirked.
“No no no, doctor…you have your mask.” A silence fell between the two. Tension began to fill the poorly-lit room as they began to evaluate each other in their own way.
The Joker ran his eyes over the man’s unnaturally feminine face. His brown eyes ran over the squared, subtle jaw line that he just wanted to shatter. They ran over the black hair he wanted to rip out. But the Joker’s eyes paused on the doctor’s lips. Those full, pale pink lips. He wanted to take a knife to them. To cut them up a little till they were nothing more than pretty pale pink shreds of bloody flesh. The thought sent a shiver through his spine. He wanted to hear him scream for mercy.
The doctor peered at the Joker over the rims of his classic black glasses. His cold blue eyes ran over the man’s colorful figure with great scrutiny. The clashing colors could indicate indecisiveness, inner struggle. Perhaps the Joker had trouble coping with his current situation or something from his past. The rushed face paint, along with the bits of white and black left on his hands displayed a lack of care for modern conventions. His greasy hair and yellowed teeth showed no sign of personal care. As with every other man that came across the Joker, Dr. Crane’s eyes focused on his face. Chiefly, his scars. He did not notice how long his eyes ran across that morbid smile, looking for any clue to their origin. The Joker, on the other hand, did notice those icy eyes lingering on his cheek. He took a step forward that went unnoticed by the doctor. He raised an eyebrow and licked his lips slowly.
“Doctor?” He leaned over the desk, his green hair falling across his face. “Doc-” The Joker was cutoff in mid-sentence. White mist filled the air and the Joker fell forward, grabbing his face and screaming. “Oh God-No! No! Oh God no!” Dr. Crane released his breath once the air became breathable and shut the suitcase. He stood up and stared at the man flailing against the table. A smile crossed his pink lips and he tugged on the lapels of his jacket briefly. The Joker held his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. He cried out in terror.
“No no no! Oh God why? Why?” He whimpered against the scratched wood, sobbing heavily into his palms.
“I’ve got to tell you, Joker, I’m a little disappointed.” Crane sat on the desk and crossed one leg over the other. He brought one hand to the quivering Joker’s head, winding a thin lock of green between his fingers. He sighed softly.
“Yes, of course I’m quite content to see you there,” he ran his fingers through the Joker’s hair gently. “Terrified, helpless,” he took in a long breath and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “It’s so utterly…satisfying.” His blood warmed, his body beginning to fill with glowing satisfaction at the Joker’s shuddering state. He had that control he had longed for. He had the Joker at his mercy. It was almost erotic to see the grown man shivering. He licked his full pink lips when a sharp scream came from the Joker. It sent a thrill through his thighs that heated him just right.
Crane bit his lower lip for a second before he continued. “But there is a part of me that wishes you weren’t so susceptible to something like a little fear.” He pushed some of the green hair back, glancing at the paint-stained ear. “Though, I must admit,” he leaned onto his side and drew his face near the Joker’s. He pressed his lips against the stark white ear and whispered coolly. “I would love to know just what it is that’s brought the unyielding Joker to his knees.”
The Joker’s cries stopped, and Crane froze in his place. The Joker raised his head, grinning maniacally, and glared into the doctor’s cold eyes. “Are you sure?” Crane’s eyes widened. The Joker shot up and grabbed the other man’s lapels. He through him down to the ground. Crane hit the cement with a thud and lost his breath for a moment. His head spun, his senses scrambling to pull themselves together. The Joker cracked his neck and straightened himself up. He adjusted his jacket and looked down at Crane.
His face lost its grin quickly and adopted a sneer. He drew one leg back and swiftly kicked the doctor’s chest.
“Ah-” Crane’s scream was muffled when the Joker’s foot threw his breath out of his lungs. He lied on his side, gasping for air. Placing his feet on either side of the doctor, the Joker reached into his back pocket and pulled out a switchblade. The cold blade flipped out and the Joker pinned down Crane‘s left arm with his leg to keep him on his back. He began to sing crudely, a light tone in his voice.
“I could while away the hours,” he crouched down over the doctor, who was still gasping for air. “Just conferrin’ with the flowers.” He bit onto the handle of the knife and began un-tucking the white dress shirt. He muttered around the handle. “Consultin’ with the rain…”
Crane’s voice was flighty, still trying to fill itself with air. “Joker, just stop right-AH!” He was interrupted when the Joker’s hand gripped around his throat. Crane grabbed at the clown’s wrist with his right hand. His left arm was still pinned. The Joker shook his head and took the blade out of his mouth. He continued to work.
The blade slid underneath the white cotton. It quickly popped off one of the buttons. “And my head I’d be a scratchin’,” the Joker loosened his grip just enough so the doctor could breathe. “While my thoughts were busy hatchin’,” he popped off another button.
“Joker, just…just stop…”
“You see now, this is just what I’m talking about.” He popped off two more buttons. Though he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, his body let him know he was enjoying the journey. “There you are, trying to…control…you’ve always tried to control doctor-don’t try to argue.” He raised a brow and smiled. “You…have always tried to control people, and that’s just-” the Joker shook his head. “That’s insane! That is…the epitome of madness. Now, I love the idea of instilling fear into the hearts of the masses as much as you.” He freed Crane’s neck and patted his cheek. “Trust me, I do. But see, you try to put fear in a bottle and it all becomes some sick scheme, some disgusting scheme for you to wrap your greedy little greasy hands around. I-”
Crane’s free hand shot upwards to the Joker’s face, clawing weakly at his eyes.
The Joker chuckled and grabbed the pale hand with his own. He paused with the blade underneath the last button. He held the doctor’s hand tightly. He couldn’t help but feel just how much like satin his thin, delicate hand was in his own. Crane stopped struggling and looked to their hands. His long, pale fingers collapsed easily in the Joker’s rough mitts. That warm sensation flooded through his thighs once more. He prayed silently that the Joker wasn’t crouched lowly enough to feel just how excited the contact had made him.
The cold metal flicked gently against the top button. The two had yet to let go of the other’s hand. The Joker felt the smallest bit of pressure underneath him. He smiled, a flicker of heat tantalizing him when he felt the beginning of the doctor’s clothed erection against his rear. His knuckles brushed against Crane’s pale chest, goosebumps forming all over the doctor’s skin. The Joker smiled and leaned forward, pressing the blade against his flesh. He shifted his leg off of Crane’s arm and crouched over his stomach. He stared down at Crane, who had finally caught his breath.
“Now, what were we talking about before?” He drew the blade down the doctor’s chest, licking his lips as blood beaded out, covering his knuckles with every inch he carved.
“Oh God,” Crane whined. He grabbed at the ground, scrambling to get out from the blade’s reach. He managed to get onto his stomach and crawl a few inches before the Joker grabbed his shoulders.
“Let me go-”
“And there you go again,” the Joker pulled off the doctor’s coat and shirt and threw them aside. It was enough to knock Crane off balance. He fell to the floor, cringing as his blood spilt between his warm flesh and the cold cement. Despite the pain, or maybe because of it, his erection remained firm.
“Trying to control, control and manipulate…even when this situation is just FLYING out of control,” The Joker got on his knees and straddled Crane’s hips. His own purple pants had become tight in the scuffle. He place one hand on the back of Crane’s head, gripping his hair tightly. It earned him a moan from the doctor. The Joker gazed down at the pale back, his eyes wandering up and down his ivory skin. There wasn’t a single blemish on him. His body was like a blank canvas.
The Joker leaned over slowly. His own stiffness nudged against the doctor. He brought the knife between the exposed shoulder blades. He gently blew on Crane’s ear lobe. The man underneath him shuddered, his entire body electrified. The Joker pressed against his back and slid the knife down along his spine. He seemed to almost unzip his flesh as beads of crimson liquid slowly pooled.
“Jesus, Joker…” Crane’s toes curled as the metal unwound his body. It stung, it seared, but it felt so good. “It’s like-”
“Shhh shh shh…” He tightened his grip on his hair and lifted his head slightly. The Joker stared at Crane’s flushed face, and pocketed the knife. He stood up and grabbed onto the doctor’s shoulder with one hand, his grip on the black hair remaining.
“Ah!” Crane cried out as he was hoisted upwards and thrown back against the cold steel wall. His glasses flew off and clattered on the ground as he tumbled back. There was a second of black upon impact before he regained his vision.
--
“Do you really want to know…what scares me…doctor?”
Crane glared at the Joker, his usually frozen eyes burning with hatred. With fear. With lust. The Joker moved his hand from his shoulder and slid it downwards towards the doctor’s pants. He gently stroked the stiffness of the pale man’s erection, the back of his hand brushing against his own. He pressed himself against him more, his rough scars brushing against Crane’s flushed cheek.
“What scares me,” he murmured into his ear. “Is the thought of this city…” he nipped at his earlobe quickly. “Falling into the hands of an uptight,” another nip. “Cowardly,” the Joker’s tongue darted out swiftly and licked his neck. “Scheming rat…” he nibbled on the long neck for a second, bringing his hand up to grab a hold of Crane’s hair. “Like you.”
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Power Struggle