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Three's A Crowd: Christmas	By : devilishkurumi Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 1984 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 1-Three's A Crowd: Christmas
- 1
AUTHOR NOTE: This fic is basically abusing Christmas
in order to write gratuitous smut. It’s also kind of like a scene from a
larger story I’m working on, but all you need to accept is that Harvey busted
Dr. Crane and Joker out of Arkham, and now they live together in a little
apartment like so many sitcom couples do. Just accept that and the fact that
there’s been some Joker-being-a-whore and you’ll be fine.
********
            It is Christmas Eve. Jonathan can’t sleep – the
night outside is too cold and he is too hot, boiling under the thick
blankets the Joker insists on sleeping with, riding out the remains of a
fever. He wonders about how it got to this point – sleeping in bed with the
Joker, waiting for Dent to return and crash on the recliner, stuck in a tiny
little studio apartment with two psychopaths and himself...
            It’s all too much to bear. Jonathan squeezes
his eyes tightly closed and tries to remember what it was like to wait for
Santa as a child. He can’t remember it – he can remember the taste of blood,
the smell of molding flesh, the feeling of millions of spiders crawling down
his throat, but he can’t fucking remember what Santa was like.
            Sweat pools at the nape of his neck, short hairs
damp and heavy. He stays on his stomach, feeling every last drop of sweat
slide across his skin, and wills himself to sleep. The bed shifts beside him –
the Joker is a restless sleeper and there’s nothing he can do about it.
            A hand lands on his thigh, and he feels the
Joker lean over him, crouching like a ravenous wolf. “What...?”
            “Shhshshhh.” He can hear the giggle in the
Joker’s voice and then he feels the broad flatness of the psychopath’s tongue
at the small of his back, lapping at the cooling sweat with his own heated
mouth. The sharp contrast of temperatures draws a low moan from Jonathan, who
closes his eyes and breathes heavily through his nose.
            The Joker licks up Jonathan’s spine, fingers
sliding along his waist and up his sides to his chest, then his shoulders.
He’s laughing, a little, when he reaches Jonathan’s neck, sucking on the base
of it for a moment. For a moment, the doctor thinks the Joker is going to ruin
this with words, but he doesn’t – instead, he grabs his hair and pulls his head
down, baring more of Jonathan’s neck to his teeth and tongue.
            Jonathan’s gasping by the time the Joker pulls
away from him, grip still tight in his hair. The fever and the cold and that tongue
have done things to the doctor that he really wishes weren’t possible, and he
can hardly sigh when Joker rolls him onto his back, straddling him and leaning
down to lick and bite at his nose and mouth. The psychopath above him is being
unusually silent, but Jonathan isn’t going to complain – maybe this is his
Christmas gift: not having to listen to the Joker’s witticisms during sex.
            There’s barely a moan from the Joker as he
slides down onto Jonathan’s half-hard cock, a growl at most, but Jonathan knows
it hurts at least a little. He takes a sick pride in that and bucks his hips
before the Joker is even settled, earning a grin and a lick along his
collarbone.
            Fucking the Joker is like fucking a wild animal
– once the psychopath gets into it, he starts moving at a frantic speed,
grunting, growling, and digging his chipped, brittle nails into Jonathan’s
hips. He tosses his head and snarls when Jonathan tries to get him to go
faster, harder – he slows down just to piss him off.
            The fever and the friction drive Jonathan mad
and his face twists up as he moans, urging the Joker on even when he knows
it’ll just slow the other down. He’s so close, and it’s because of that
that he’s just not coherent enough to hear the door to the apartment click
open, or hear Dent’s soft-soled shoes on the carpet.
            He does, however, notice when the Joker abruptly
stops moving, seated completely on his upper thighs and hips. He groans and
then snarls, “Don’t stop,” with more than just a little desperation
tinting his voice.
            “Tsk tsk, Doctor Crane – we really
need to work on these control issues of yours.”
            Jonathan can now hear Dent’s shoes and he twists
his head to look at the half-burnt man from over the Joker’s shoulder. He
looks repulsed and intrigued all at once, and then the Joker, too, turns his
head to look at him.
            “Have some fucking decency,” Dent growls,
looking about to go to his recliner. The Joker, his face in half-profile and
bare of makeup, snaps his teeth and licks his lips in Dent’s direction;
Jonathan finds it a horribly obscene display and it makes him moan and buck his
hips. The Joker ignores him.
            “Come to bed, Harvey,” he purrs, and the
ex-D.A. stares at him for a moment. “Please?”
            Jonathan doesn’t know what kind of face the
Joker makes that gets Dent to come closer to the side of the bed, but he
doesn’t care because the Joker begins moving again, rocking slow and surprisingly
steady. He licks his lips at Dent and opens his mouth a little, just enough to
make the noises he’s making that much more pornographic. Dent, for his part,
just growls and unzips his fly.
            The Joker stops moving again and Jonathan very
nearly cries out in frustration, but he holds it back, utterly entranced; the
Joker leans down and to the side and, with only a moment’s pause to give Dent a
heated grin, takes the other into his mouth.
            He must not have any gag-reflex, Jonathan
thinks in dazed horror, trying to rationalize why Dent would let this madman’s
teeth anywhere near such a sensitive piece of the anatomy, but then Dent
growls, “Move,” and the Joker’s bucking hips drive all coherent thought away.
            Normally, Jonathan would keep his eyes shut
during something like this, but Dent’s eyes are pinned to his own, and they’re
both sharing a kind of moment – they’re both fucked up and letting the
Joker do whatever he wants to them. They’re practically brothers, at
this point.
            Dent grabs a chair for stability, leaning his
weight onto it as the Joker licks and sucks at him, rocking his hips just
enough to keep Jonathan on edge without going over it. The former D.A.’s good
eye clenches shut, and he reaches out to grab the Joker’s hair and yank him back.
“Stop,” he growls, and when the Joker does, he’s quick to punch the
other in the mouth. The Joker reels, giggling, and Jonathan can see blood on
his mouth even when Dent kisses him furiously.
            The Joker clenches and Jonathan comes with a
hoarse shout, twisting his head back to stare at the ceiling as opposed to the
two nuts in a lip-lock over him. The Joker moans and writhes, one of his hands
going for his own hard-on –
            “Don’t,” Dent snarls, and the Joker
pauses, the picture of obedience. Dent pulls away to look at Jonathan, tilting
his head. “You should help him out,” he says in a tone that’s nothing short of
a command. Jonathan would usually disagree whole-heartedly, but Dent’s
expression – it’s...
            Jonathan shifts down on the bed, the Joker staring
at him with a strange expression on his face, and gives the psychopath a
withering glare. “Well?” He tilts his head back in defiance – he’s not
being told what to do, he just wants to do this – and adds, “I don’t
think Mr. Dent and I have all day, Joker.”
            The Joker giggles and grins wide, looking like a
child at Christmas, and crawls on hands and knees up Jonathan’s side, until his
hips are over the doctor’s face. Jonathan grimaces, but sighs – he’s committed
this much, after all – and reaches up to guide the Joker’s tip into his mouth.
            He’s barely even started and the Joker is
already making noises that no man should be able to make – quiet, high sorts of
moans and growls, maybe a yelp or two. It takes him a minute to realize that
the bed is shifting with more weight, and he squints around the Joker in order
to see Dent crouching over his stomach, hands grabbing at the Joker’s hips.
            There’s a sharp jerk and Jonathan grazes the
Joker with his teeth accidentally; that sends the psychopath into another round
of sobbing growls. Jonathan has to slow down, now that Dent is pressing into
the Joker and – God help him – fucking him right over Jonathan. It’s
more than the doctor can really stand, but he’s the weakest of the three right
now, and it’s too late to back out without repercussions.
            In his favor, the Joker doesn’t last very long
between Jonathan’s mouth and Dent’s cock – with a sharp, hitching groan he
comes, twitching head to toe. Jonathan recoils in disgust and twists his head
away, spitting several times in an attempt to get all of that out of his
system. The Joker continues shuddering above him, Dent growling and biting at
his shoulders for a few minutes longer before finally coming himself – he
immediately pulls out and lets the Joker shove himself down into the bed,
curling up halfway around Jonathan’s shoulders.
            Dent and Jonathan stare at each other – now that
the Joker’s not in the equation, this whole thing seems... absolutely
ridiculous. They look at the scarred maniac, who smiles gleefully at them.
            “Merry Christmas, Harvey,” he
purrs, then twists to roll over so his back is facing the two. Jonathan feels
a little used but not really – he’s too exhausted to care anymore.
            Dent stares at the Joker’s back for a minute
before groaning in annoyance, frustration, and – something else
entirely. Jonathan relents and gives the former D.A. enough room to slump down
in bed between him and the Joker, and the two of them stare at each other
again.
            “I am never-” Jonathan begins, only to be
cut off by Dent.
            “-Doing that again, right.”
            Harvey closes his eye and Jonathan just
grumbles, wiping sweat from his brow and squeezing his eyes shut. “Worst
Christmas ever, Joker.”
            “I’ll make it up to you,” the maniac says in a
sleepy voice, and after a minute, Jonathan gives up fuming and tries to get
some rest for once.
- 1
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Three's A Crowd: Christmas