Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, The Joker
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): NC-17
Summary: Bruce can't afford distractions while he hunts the Joker.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): July 5, 2007
Date Of Posting: November 8, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1552
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
“A man can’t afford distractions if he wishes to pursue perfection.”
“A CEO’s Secret To Success”
CRAZY BATS AND CLOWNS
For the next few days, Bruce worked on a major acquisition for Wayne Enterprises. He kept his patrols short, but reports of Joker sightings got him to plan a longer patrol.
Bruce decided he needed more practice flying before that patrol, and he and Clark performed their aerial routine on the special rigging. Their timing was prefect. It was a perfect kick-off for patrol.
& & & & & &
That night Batman rousted all the snitches and petty criminals he could lay his gauntlets on. He was driven to find the Joker, who had eluded him only a matter of days ago.
As the night wore on, Batman grew more frustrated. A psychotic on the loose was not good.
Tired, he settled beneath a gargoyle, his cape tucked in around him. Thoughts of Clark entered his mind and he smiled, thinking of smooth, golden flesh open to his every desire, every whim, the sapphire eyes sparkling with pleasure as perfect lips curved…
A scream startled him and he nearly fell off the gargoyle.
Batman flew down to the street, a woman sobbing as she bent over her fallen husband on the sidewalk. His face was stretched in the Joker rictus.
Swearing silently, he helped the woman get her husband to the hospital.
Rage filled him. His distraction had allowed the Joker to escape and to victimize the innocent yet again.
& & & & & &
Bruce became more and more driven, working on the acquisition by day and hunting the Joker by night.
Sex with Clark was no longer a release but perfunctory, alternating with angry.
Another victim of the Joker was found the third night after his escape.
& & & & & &
Clark watched as Bruce rolled away. His face reflected his hurt. Bruce’s usual affection was missing. He seemed unaware of Clark’s needs at all.
Clark was aware that Bruce was not required to care about his pleasure. In fact, all a Master required of a pleasure slave was his own pleasure.
Clark stared up at the ceiling as he listened to Bruce’s even breathing. For the past several nights, Bruce had been almost disinterested in sex.
Of course, all of that could be attributed to Bruce being tired due to driving himself relentlessly to catch the Joker.
But it had started before the Joker sightings. Clark had sensed a pulling-back, a distance in Bruce that he hadn’t sensed before. Worriedly he wondered if Bruce was getting tired of him.
It certainly wasn’t unknown. Masters tiring of pleasure slaves was common enough. Sometimes they changed those slaves’ duties and made them useful elsewhere. Other times they simply sold them.
Clark’s hands clenched. The thought of the auction block terrified him, but never seeing Bruce again terrified him even more.
He was determined to prevent that possibility from coming true.
& & & & & &
“Where is he?”
The growl sliced through the snitch, his limbs trembling. The Bat hovered over him, grimness pouring off him like midnight from darkness.
Kenny Small knew that he was in trouble. If the Batman didn’t toss him off a rooftop, the Joker would cut his heart out. He cursed ever getting involved with the Clown Prince. The man was Looney Tunes, and he didn’t think the Batman was much different.
“Tell me, Small.”
Kenny swallowed. He’d leave Gotham tonight. Metropolis was bright, but it had its seamy side. At least there were no crazy clowns or Bats there.
“He’s at the old Hempstead Wire Company warehouse. He’s putting together a gang for some big score, which I don’t know.”
Kenny trembled. Would the Batman grind him into dust? He could break a few bones, indeed.
“Get out of here,” the Dark Knight growled, and Kenny was glad to oblige.
& & & & & &
The Hempstead Wire Company was one of those warehouses from Gotham’s industrial past. It was large, old, but sturdy, and a perfect place for nefarious doings.
Batman glided over the rooftops, alighting on another old building close by. He searched for signs of activity.
Carefully he vaulted over to the roof, frowning as he stumbled slightly. Damn his lack of sleep. He considered calling Jim Gordon, but decided to wait until he knew for certain that the Joker was here.
He considered himself lucky that the Joker was leaving victims alive with their hideous grins instead of the rictus of death, but who knew how long that would last? What if he decided to ratchet it up to murder?
Batman clenched his right hand. His unforgivable distraction had led to this.
You love him.
Of course you do.
I can’t afford to.
Bruce shook his head. The Bat-voice was highly annoying.
He slipped inside, centuries of mustiness tickling his nose. The building was solidly-built, as most nineteenth-century buildings tended to be, and he had to be careful not to trip over any debris.
He saw evidence of homeless habitation in the past. He hoped that none of them had camped out here when the Joker had scouted the place.
He stealthily reconnoitered the building, finally hitting paydirt. The Joker’s distinctive circus-style décor took up one large room, moonlight filtering in through an old broken window.
A quick search of the place didn’t turn up any prospective plans. A call to the Commissioner ensured back-up. He didn’t feel at the top of his game.
Love will do that to a man.
Bruce nearly rolled his eyes. That Bat-voice was more than annoying now.
A noise. He turned but saw nothing. He swooped up to the rafters.
The Joker and six henchmen entered, the maniacal laugh bouncing off the walls.
“So, Boss, what’s the story?”
“Story?” Giggles. “Once upon a time…”
“C’mon, Joker, what’s your latest crime plan?” asked another thug.
“Maybe I don’t have one. Maybe I just want to keep purse-snatching and wallet-grabbing.”
“Really? You’re too brilliant for that, Joker,” said the first man.
“True.” The Clown Prince preened as he strutted around. “I have ol’ Batsy’s number, too.”
No one responded to that, and Batman congratulated them silently as to their wisdom. Reminding the Joker that the Batman usually deposited him back in Arkham wouldn’t be a wise idea.
“Boss!” A seventh man burst in. “Cops all over the place!”
“Oh?” The Joker’s eyes narrowed. “I had no idea that purse-snatching was such a big offense.” He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Let’s go. I know this place inside and out.”
Batman swooped down, knocking three of the men off their feet right away. The seventh man took off as the remaining three hurled into pitched battle with the Caped Crusader, the Joker cackling with glee.
Batman was methodical, but one of the thugs got in a lucky punch. Batman staggered, narrowly evading a second man’s fist. Shaking off his fatigue, he gathered his senses and exploded.
By the time he swept away the thugs, the Joker was gone.
The police burst in, only to find six unconscious thugs and no one else.
& & & & & &
Rage was becoming an old friend. Bruce stalked up the grand staircase, silent in tread but roiling with rage. His nerves jangled as his mind feverishly tried to puzzle where the Joker might be.
He entered the bedroom and paused by the bed. Clark was asleep, warm under the blanket and quilt as the nights were getting colder. Underneath was all that beautiful, naked flesh.
He used to be my haven.
Now there were so many damned emotions all mixed up inside. And right now, he needed release or he was going to explode. He reached out a hand and gently shook Clark’s shoulder.
“Wha…? Oh, Master.” Clark blinked sleepily, hair endearingly mussed as he sat up, the covers falling to his waist and revealing the magnificent chest.
“Shut up,” Bruce growled, locking Clark into a fierce kiss. He plundered the sweet mouth, grabbed his hair, and pulled them apart. “Suck me now.” His body trembled with so many emotions he could barely see.
& & & & & &
Clark hesitated for a millisecond. Such orders were not unusual in the heat of passion, but there was something different about this, as there had been since Halloween.
He did as ordered, using techniques he had learned would give Bruce pleasure. A sharp tug on his hair indicated that Bruce wasn’t interested in niceties.
His heart sank. He couldn’t have love, but at least had enjoyed the illusion of being a talented pleasure slave, one worth the outrageous price Bruce had paid for him.
He worked quickly to bring Bruce to climax, nearly choking as his Master thrust hard, the bitter seed spilling down his throat. He tried not to cough as Bruce withdrew. He would have to stick to basics tonight…
Bruce settled into the bed. He closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, Clark.”
Hurt reflected in sapphire eyes. The taste in his mouth was of a different bitterness as he watched Bruce as he rolled over onto his side, turning his back to him.