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duplicitymemes2023-07-10 08:51 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2023-07-10 08:51 am
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TDM #31
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It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the deceit gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the LIEs program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the deceit gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from LIEs after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you're here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of Orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You're a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your high-rise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You're a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you'll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. Enjoy your free time until Orientation! Participation is mandatory for all new and past arrivals. It's the hottest part of the summer. Prepare to sweat. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in Orientation, LIERs are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERs at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. |
 (cw: aphrodisiacs, dub-con, groping, public nudity, public sex) It's summertime! To beat the heat, LIEs has decided to throw a pool party directly following Orientation at one of the city's public pools! Attendance is mandatory for new arrivals and strongly encouraged for everyone else. New arrivals are provided with (skimpy) swimsuits to wear, but LIERs who have been in the city a while have the option of bringing their own gear. Of course, skinny dipping is allowed as well, and there are many spots on deck for people to tan themselves. Speaking of tanning, why not help out a fellow LIER by rubbing some lotion on them? Or, if you want to avoid a burn, get someone to put sunscreen on your back? The formulas of the complementary products that LIEs provide may or may not have a mild aphrodisiac added to them, but at least you won't burn and you may get that nice golden tan you've been chasing — all over! While one end of the pool is reserved for people to splash around in or float casually, there are numerous games and water activities for people to join in on as well: In a sexy twist on Marco Polo, though in Duplicity the call and response is "lucky" and "get me," the seeker must try and tag other players by tugging at their swimsuits. They'll be rewarded with 30 seconds of foreplay, groping and whatever else they can accomplish within the time frame. Dominant and Submissive pairs face off against one another in piggyback chicken fights or jousts using inflatable toys and suggestively shaped pool noodles. Are those dildos stuck to the bottom of the pool? You bet! Dive down and retrieve them before handing them to the next person behind you to toss in and dive for or just collect as many as you can. There is, of course, the option of using said dildo on yourself or someone else for others to watch and enjoy on the pool deck. No judgment here. For those who prefer a slightly more private option, there are curtained cabanas available and it's easy enough to duck inside with a partner for a quick tryst. |
 (cw: aphrodisiacs, dub-con, altered mental states, miscellaneous kink) Whether it's the obnoxious, telltale jingle that signals the arrival of ice cream trucks, or the vehicles happen to be spotted in their various parking spots all around Duplicity — including some smaller carts made to navigate the narrower streets of the Down, it's obvious that they're popular considering the warm summer weather. It seems the locals can't get enough of the cool, sweet treats on offer — and, even better, the trucks are offering free samples in addition to selling regular sizes. Popsicles and soft serve ice cream are on the menu, and each frozen bite has its own unique set of effects. The menu: Want sprinkles with that? Enjoy your added aphro! |
 (cw: dub-con/non-con, pet play, leash and collar, training/discipline, exhibitionism) A new public park has recently been built on a formerly empty lot in the Up. The bigger sign on the gate reads "Dog Park," and the smaller sign adjacent to it includes the posted rules that all people need to abide by in order to enter. If you're curious about what such a structure entails (after all, there are dogs in Duplicity), you're in luck: today, there's a meet-and-greet being hosted for pets and their owners, sponsored by a local "pet" shop, with banners advertising the event posted at each end of the park. This is a Dog Park, alright, but it's intended for a very specific kind of play involving the LIERs who want to wear the collars in question as well as the LIERs who are interested in holding their leashes. Even if you've never harbored an interest in it before, don't worry — random bystanders will be enthusiastically pressured to join in by event volunteers, so you might find yourself wearing a collar or holding a leash in very short order regardless. All pets must be collared and leashed properly in order to enter the Dog Park, and owners must remain in close proximity to their pets at all times. There are toys for tugging and fetching, a few pieces of special playground equipment, and more than enough space to run around. There will also be obedience challenges issued to various pairs at random, just to see how in sync both pet and owner are with one another. If you decide to participate and remain on your best behavior, you might even earn a nice treat in addition to a pat on the head. The pet shop will be handing out goodie bags consisting of take-home collars, as well as animal tail plugs and other sex toys and gear, to everyone who takes part in the event, willingly or not. |
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but the assignments are OOCly randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right." When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass." This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: If your character is a night owl, they are a Dominant. If your character prefers the daytime, they are a Submissive. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to tag on new TDMs with different designations for fun! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
no subject
Who could possibly look at this man, at Batman, and see anything submissive? Patient, yes. Passive even, okay, maybe, sure, in the same way a monstrous spider might be said to be passive while waiting in its web. But submissive? Not on your life.
The Batman Joker knows is all muscle and cunning, all fists and blood and stubbornness. He's implacable. Relentless. Worthy.
The thought of him doing any of the things Joker has seen submissives doing here... Batman, kneeling beside his master on a train. Batman, collared and leashed, clambering about on all fours like a dog. Batman, with his eyes downcast, nodding obediently so that he might receive another tender murmuring of "good boy" from some half-wit who has no idea what sort of treasure she has in him. Unthinkable.
And that they did it to him in his sleep! When he couldn't even fight back, couldn't show them how very, very wrong they had it.
It should be funny, Joker knows. It should be hilarious, really, the kind of side-splitter that goes down in the annals of comedy classics to be cherished for always.
Instead, he can feel the knowledge summoning in him a need for violence so intense it's like a physical thing, tightening his chest and making his fingers begin to twitch.
And somehow the idea of Batman accepting and playing along with all of this because it's useful makes the whole thing just that much worse. Because he can see that, actually. Batman on his knees, degraded and debased, telling himself how very, very useful this humiliation will be. No one pays much mind to lapdogs, now, do they?
"Useful," he repeats, and there's the faintest tremor of rage threading through it. "Oh, I'm sure it is."
Something drips onto his glove with a soft, sticky plop, and Joker remembers the popsicle. His upper lip curls into a muted snarl, and he flicks his wrist, letting the popsicle land in a sloppy purple puddle in front of the shop's door. Then his gaze snaps back to Batman, and he sees him afresh.
The movie star face. The outfit. The disguise that shouldn't fool a child, yet somehow seems to fool the whole world.
Bruce, he realizes. These bozos thought they were getting Bruce.
Bruce Wayne, a submissive? Now that, Joker could believe. Nothing about Bruce was ever threatening, after all. Never commanding, never challenging, never doing or saying anything that might make anyone think he had two interesting thoughts to rub together in that entire noggin of his. That was, after all, the entire point.
Joker shakes his head again, and when his eyes find Bats's now, they're full of an incredulity that can't seem to decide if it's affectionate or loathing. "So you're just going with it," he marvels. And now he does advance, slow and easy, as if his entire body isn't coiled tighter than a spring in a grenade. "And whose little lap-bat are you, pray tell?"
He can find out for himself, of course. But he wants to see the look on Bats's face when the name is spoken.
no subject
Tension runs right up his spine to his shoulders and jaw and settles there like an invisible cape.
He might be fed up and frustrated with a whole lot of things here. He might be looking for an excuse.
It might just be what this man does to him.
He wants to push that anger all the way to the breaking point.
Seeing realization dawning behind the anger, his sharp, calculating, gaze changes. Between one blink and the next his eyes lose that narrow eyed assessment and go... vapid. His body language shifts, picking up more grace and the power behind it moves a bit beneath the surface.
He doesn't back up, though at all. He just smiles, easy and too bright and meaningless to even come close to being real. Some flirty flash of pretty (and expensive) teeth.
Bruce. Dialed up just a little - not as far as the act can go but far enough, and for the sole intention of provocation. The eye-contact, even without there seeming to be much going on behind his eyes says a lot.
"Clark Kent. He's really very nice and takes very good care of me. Though he does have a cat, and I'm not very fond of how much attention he gives it."
no subject
Batman's mouth and jaw have always been of particular importance to him. They're the balance to his own, after all, the grim tragedy mask meant to come as a set with his lovely comedic one. And for so long, they were the only thing besides Bats's eyes that suggested there was anything vulnerable in there at all. Seeing them like this, here? It's enough to take the edge off Joker's rapidly growing rage, to remind him that the man he knows is still very much present beneath that godawful tattoo. Joker is still languidly advancing, no more than two steps away now, but a touch of humor lights up in his eyes, and the taut springs in his limbs loosen just a smidge. It's all right, he thinks. Sure, he might have to take out a few idiots in Duplicity's processing department, but it's all going to be just fine.
And then, in a blink, Bats transforms.
Joker has seen Bruce Wayne many times, and has clocked countless hours watching footage of the performance, as well. As far as acts go, Bruce isn't exactly a great one, but he's Bats's, and so it matters. In most circumstances, an appearance by Brucie doesn't trigger much of an emotional reaction in Joker, because, come on, it's a cheap little parlor trick, and barely even that. A little goading, maybe the (entirely sincere) threat of shooting some random bystander, and wouldja look at that, kids? Batman has suddenly appeared on the scene! Hallelujah, what a miracle.
But he's never seen the transformation in real time before, and certainly not like this, with Bats deliberately summoning Bruce in the middle of a conversation. Joker knows it's to throw him off, but goddammit, it's working... Up close like this, he has the awful sensation that he's watching Batman being swallowed alive, like Bruce is quicksand rushing up to devour him. Which is stupid, utterly batshit - ha - but there it is, and he has to fight down a visceral urge to snap a hand out and catch Bats by the chest. To pull him back. Though whether that's to save him or to simply stop him from escaping is a little fuzzy...
So it takes a moment, just half a beat or so, for Bruce's words to really sink in.
Clark Kent. Good care. Cat.
...Wait.
Joker stops, leaving only perhaps two feet of space between them. He's well within Bats's personal space, which he of all people knows is a dangerous place to be, but truly, what the actual fuck did Bruce just say?
Clark Kent? Not just a man - which, that's already going to be something to process later, but okay - but Clark Kent? Joker has read Clark's work, and look, not to put too fine a point on it here, but the guy's no Lois Lane. And now Joker's supposed to believe that Bruce is jockeying with Mittens the Kitten to get a seat on Daddy Clark's knee?
He's heard some crazy things in his time, sure, but that one? That one's a real doozy.
He stares at Bruce's Stepford eyes for another fraction of a second, his brow slightly furrowed. He looks like a man who, for once, just really doesn't get the joke.
He's imagining Bruce reading Clark's latest piece of copy, a real knuckle-biter of an article with a title like 'Mild Heat Wave Expected to Continue.' Clark wants to know if he's used too many adjectives. Bruce wants to know if Mittens gets the other spot in the bed tonight.
And then, from the more lucid part of Joker's brain, comes a reminder: He's screwing with you, genius. Time to return the serve.
Understanding sparks in his eyes. It's not often that Batman asks him to dance, but if his dearly be-Batted wants to play, why, who is he to say no? And the theme for tonight's dance, he has to admit, is a fun one: Let's You and Me Let Our Alter-Egos Fight.
Suits him just fine!
And so Joker brings his own stage persona into full technicolor life, offering up his own mirror to Bats's Bruce. His shoulders go a bit more open, his gestures a bit more expansive. His voice, quiet and human a moment ago, returns to its full mid-Atlantic theatricality. This is the Joker with a body count in the thousands, the Joker who fully intends to tack a couple more zeroes on that number before his final curtain call. His eyes are calculating and mad and delighted, and there's nothing tender left in them at all.
"You know, actually..." He's right up in Bats's face now, every tiny movement of his own now taunting and smug. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you might be right." He rocks back on one heel, his gloved hands flashing up into an exaggerated shrug. "Hell, I always said you needed someone to take care of you. And I mean..." He gestures at Bats, a sweep of a hand that encompasses face, chest, the whole caboodle. "I know you like to play protector, but when it comes to actually keeping those under your care hearty and hale?" He smirks, eyes glittering. In his memory, he can hear that delightful crowbar, thwack thwack thwacking, as Jason Todd's flesh made a mess of the floor. Come on out and play, now, Batsy, baby. "Not exactly a track record to inspire confidence."
no subject
He can almost track the confusion - what would Batman want to do with Clark Kent? Nothing, of course. Bruce would do... okay with him, though be an awful lot for that mild mannered reporter, with a habit of blushing, to handle.
Sounds fun, actually. Maybe he'll play with that some evening.
For now, he's just going to keep playing this.
He doesn't retreat when Joker advances, not when he gets into his space and not when he gets into his face. Far from it - he steps forward even though there's really no room to do so. That leaves Joker two options. Deal with Bruce's body flush against his, or back up.
When Joker mentions not being able to take care of his own people - his eyebrow goes up a little, as does one corner of his mouth, but his eyes? They track off to one side and behind Joker. Not as a ploy but as a check to see what natives - or guards - are around- before fixing back on Joker's face.
That's telling. Of when Joker is fun and an alignment between realities. That's useful and-- Bruce does not lose his temper. It's a near thing, but he doesn't. He won't snap that easily. Not here. For a variety of reasons, some very logical and some just sheer force of will.
Something pretty steely is back in the pale blue of his eyes when he looks back, but his vague smirk doesn't change at all. "You're right, of course. It's been very fortunate that the officials here seem to be of the same mind. They wrote the most helpful ad for me. Seems they understood what I needed, though may have underestimated my ability to find my own partners."
Good look for his old dom finder sometime, Joker. It's a real knee slapper.
no subject
Which means that before you can say that's not Bruce, Joker has a wall of Bat pressing into him. And it is Batman, there's no mistaking that. Bruce Wayne doesn't move like this, doesn't cross these lines. I've almost got him, Joker thinks, as he smirks right back into Bats's face.
They're too close, deadly close, and even as the warmth from Bats's body starts to wind its way through Joker's suit, the little hairs at the back of his neck are lifting in a lizard-brain warning. To be this close to Batman is to deliberately court a broken nose, a concussion, a cracked rib, worse. It's delicious, the immediacy of the risk. Joker's skin feels like it's humming, like he's hooked to the electrofun machines but the current is just getting going. Like his body is coming alive with bees.
He can see Batman beginning to resurface in the eyes, too. No more Stepford blankness. A little more backbone. Come on, now. Just a little bit more.
Bruce's words are probably loaded with a secondary meaning, but at the moment, that doesn't really matter. What matters in the here-and-now is provoking, prodding. Making him snap. Everything else can be chewed over later.
Joker leans in a little more, tilting his head so that his sharp cheekbone is right next to Bats's. So that he can murmur directly into his ear, with a voice as taunting as the rest of him.
"Oh, I'm sure you've got them lining up around the block. Sweet little thing like you. Mm." He allows one gloved hand to move toward Bats's chest, intending to dance his fingertips along Bats's collarbone if he doesn't get grabbed or punched first. "Bet you've got all sorts of protectors, just dying to leap to your defense."
no subject
He does slide his hand down Joker's other arm and link his fingers around the man's wrist. Just so he knows where both those hands are -- and has some control over one of them.
Then leans in and licks up the side of Joker's throat, along his jaw to snap his teeth just barely hard enough to sting at his ear-lobe. He does not move back before he laughs.
"You have no idea."
No one's protecting him, of course. That isn't how he works.
no subject
It'll be worth it, of course. It always is. And especially here, where Bats so clearly wants to lean into this Bruce thing, where there are cameras and rules and–
Batman's tongue is against his neck. Warm. Wet.
Joker stops breathing. Stops thinking. Stops doing anything at all with his hands.
Every nerve in his body is focused on that one spot of connection between them, on the unthinkably wrong thing that's happening between them. Then Bats's teeth close on his earlobe, with just the lightest, sweetest flash of pain, and Joker hears his own breath shudder out just before Batman laughs.
And for a moment, everything is sensation, because his brain simply refuses to work. That laugh, right in his ear, goes straight to his cock, bringing a rush of need that makes no sense, that shouldn't be. He can smell Batman's skin, the scent that follows him into the nightmares only Harley knows about. He can feel the warmth of him, the solidity of him, but he can't fucking think.
All his brain can conjure, stupidly, uselessly, is: Oh.
It's never been sexual, this thing with him and Bats. They're something else, something more, like gods of old. Fated to duel for eternity. Bound to one another, but not like that. For all the endless hours (upon hours upon hours upon hours) Joker has spent obsessively thinking over every aspect of Batman's being, he has never once pictured fucking him raw.
Not until right this minute.
He turns his head toward Batman, just a fraction of an inch, and his eyes have gone a darker shade of green. His pupils are dilated; his lips are parted. When he speaks, his voice has lost all of its lilting, teasing bounce. It's gone dark as his eyes, low and full of an uncharacteristically sincere warning. "Be careful what you start with me, Bats. You may not like where it leads."
no subject
Point to him.
Also point to Duplicity on that, entirely separate, score (dammit) score card.
He's keeping solid control of the sex and the violence.
Even if his fingers around Joker's wrist twitch and tighten.
"I don't like where anything with you leads," he says, in a low, rough, growl. That part is honest, at least. "Watch the cameras, and stay away from the food." Or just use it on other people, he supposes, but drugged Joker is more of a nightmare than the standard variety.
He's helping. He'd rather be issuing a threat, but that's beneath him and an opening he's not going to give Joker. 'stay away from my kids'? No. He's not giving that more weight. He wants to. He won't.
Helpful warnings. That's all this is.
He also lets go of the wrist he's holding, abruptly.
no subject
Joker's neck is still faintly wet from Bats's tongue, that spot feeling noticeably cooler now than the rest of him. The bite mark on his earlobe is blooming deep pink, nearly magenta, against the white of his skin.
And Bats is... what, going to breeze right past this? Pretend it didn't happen, or that it was somehow okay that it happened, or...
Because Joker recognizes where this conversation is now headed. Batman has moved into the snarl-something-he-thinks-is-important-and-then-depart phase of their interaction, and no, hell no, that's not going to fly this time.
The instant Bats lets go of his wrist, Joker snaps his own hand over, closing his fingers around Bats' wrist in a reversal of their previous position. His pulse is going far too quickly, but he slaps a smirk on his lips that suggests this is all just part of your standard issue fun-n-games.
"It boggles the mind a bit, doesn't it?" His voice is still quiet, but it's beginning to take on a meaner edge again. "How many lives you could have saved. How many you still could."
His eyes are still watching Bats's, and that smirk spreads a little wider.
"We could put a stop to this whole mess right now, you know. You and I." It's probably not true, but he says it as if it were, and he deliberately keeps that glint of hunger in his eyes. "Oh, but you're not going to choose that path, are you? No... You're not capable of it."
no subject
There's the predictable roll up of tension, of course, a desire to commit violence - lash out, and lash out hard.
It just also comes with a very brief flash of fear bordering on panic across his eyes. He's sure Joker's seen it before, but with very, very different and more overtly high stakes scenarios.
It comes before Joker's even started speaking and is gone again before the first couple of words are out of his mouth. No heart racing stuff, that's steady as steady can be. Controlled as his breathing.
He does not grab Joker back. This isn't Gotham. He's said that to Tim countless times, and it's true.
This place requires different tactics.
He still wants to drive his fist straight into Joker's mouth. Can't help it even as he forces the physical tension to roll back.
He can't get that tension out of his jaw or the back of his neck, but... it's something.
He tilts his head slightly at the first remark, because that... raises some questions. About timelines and points in time and events. All he has is Jason. That it hits home emotionally doesn't... matter right now. Won't be acknowledged.
"We can't and you won't any more than I will. Let. Go. Of. Me."
no subject
It's always a delight to surprise a Bat. Even more so now, when Batman has so obviously been thinking he was the one in control of this game. The one who got to decide how far it went, and when.
They'll finish this when Joker says they're done, not before. They're playing on his terms now, thanks. That lick ensured that much.
Joker watches that oh-so-familiar head tilt, and his smirk takes on the faintest note of affection. It's such a Bats thing to do, a way of communicating Yes, I'm listening while wearing a cowl that obscures so much of his face, and to see it on "Bruce" is oddly endearing. Does Batman realize he's doing it, Joker wonders? Or does talking to him simply bring out the Bat mannerisms, without his conscious awareness?
Joker suspects the latter, which is more comforting than it should be.
"Oh, but we can," he corrects, and his gaze is steady. Daring Batman to call his bluff, if in fact it even is one. Either way, he's not letting go. "Come back with me. Away from the cameras. Away from... all of this." One corner of his smirk goes higher, teasing. "I don't have a cat, if that's what you're worried about."
no subject
It doesn't soley belong to the cowl, either. Batman will use it, but it's one of those things that exist independently of a ruse or an act. One of those rare things that's just him.
Joker continuing to talk makes him realize (mostly - he will maintain doubt) that Joker isn't being nearly as subtle or complicated as Bruce initially believed. Joker isn't alluding to anything specific, or implying that Bruce is dead.
This is just Joker continuing the game Bruce had started, well past the point of it being even remotely funny.
What a surprise.
He's less thrown by that realization, but not entirely on solid ground, either. Because... what.
He uses his free hand, reaches across to where Joker's fingers are around his wrist, wraps his hand around Joker's forearm.
"You don't even know where the cameras are, yet."
Also: No.
no subject
It's only after the fact that Joker realizes he was expecting a tense, angry rejection. Something involving a curled upper lip and a lot of gritted teeth. And, of course, the silent implication that Joker is a filthy degenerate and the last person on earth he would ever consider letting use him in that manner, and yadda yadda. Do not pass Go, do not collect a Batman. That is, he realizes, what was supposed to happen. Then he would laugh, and the tension would break, and he'd offer some parting jab about Batman's bizarre behavior, and that would be that.
Instead, Bats chose to give him this sidestep. This weak-ass little dodge. The cameras? Really?
A shred of the smugness leaves Joker's eyes, and a hint of searching curiosity replaces it.
What are they doing? What is he doing?
He has the vague sense that he's leaning out over an abyss, tethered only by the thinnest of fraying cords. And if that cord goes...
Frankly, it's exhilarating. For years now, he's danced the same familiar dance with Batman. All the same familiar steps. Always leading toward the same, inevitable, maybe-today-or-maybe-ten-years-from-now end. But now? Now, he hasn't the faintest clue what's going to happen. And dear God, what a rush that is.
He lets Batman take him by the arm. No releasing of the wrist he's holding. No attempting to block or twist. He simply holds Batman's gaze, and keeps hold of the wrist, and lets it happen.
"No. But you do. And with that new tattoo of yours..." He shrugs, the barest twitch of his shoulders. "I just want to take a charming submissive somewhere a little more private. Who could object to that?"
no subject
That's probably a bad sign, at least in regards to where this is going; Bruce is enjoying the unfamiliar territory much less.
Which isn't to say not at all. The front row seat to watching Joker adapt to the setting, the environment, the information and then using that (even against him)? That's the kind of intellect he can appreciate.
That they're in a physical stalemate just fits the circumstance. His eyebrows go up ever so slightly as Joker speaks and then hover there.
Still with the mostly loosened muscle and even, steady, controlled breathing and pulse.
"I've always preferred a longer game." No growl, snarl or snap but the level of controlled, level and mild is... not natural for Bruce or Bat. And the fact that he's making real hard eyecontact is saying something.
Mostly in this moment 'let go' and acknowledgement that after 6 months here... he knows exactly where this ends. Now or later, he knows where it's eventually going.
Just like he knows back home what they do there is going to kill them both.
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Because he understands Bats perfectly, of course. Batman is letting him know that no, goddammit, he is not the kind of vigilante who fucks on the seven-hundredth date. He wants to be pursued a little more, thank you. See at least a few dozen more people killed as a courtship offering. Perhaps for their thousandth dance...
So the objection, somehow, isn't actually about Joker at all. It's about the pace of all of this. That to go back with him now, to let Joker bury himself balls-deep in him and use and defile him, is an issue simply because it would be happening too fast.
All these years together, and it's just too fast.
That's honestly the funniest thing Joker's heard in months, and these have been some memorable months, too.
He lets out a bark of a laugh, and then that fabulous eye contact between them is broken, and he lets go of Bats's wrist. He runs the fingertips of his other hand over his browbone, closing his eyes, and he can't help it: he's laughing again, harder this time.
Whoever would have thought that Batman would prove such a needy little bitch?
"Oh, God." He opens his eyes and looks back at Bats, and with visible effort, he gets his laughter under control enough to speak. "Look – I meant, we should go somewhere where we can have an actual conversation. A more candid one, for once. Not our forte, I know, but..."
He knows full well he never explicitly said anything about anything else. Not once did he say, Bats, what say you and me spend the next few days playing hide-the-pickle? No, all of that was in the subtext. And subtext, as Joker well knows, is damned hard to prove.
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Then he's let go of and moves away, and puts a nice, solid, not at all safe arm's length between them.
Which means somewhere, Clark is getting to listen to Bruce's pulse go up and think Bruce is having some flavor of a good time.
He would like to warn Joker off his people (his kids are here!), but he isn't stupid enough to open that door. He would like to just hit him, hard and several times in a row, which in this exact moment would be unwise, but also unfair. In this moment his primary motive would be not being allowed to give this asshole information and leave; he has lost control of this situation and he hates it.
He should probably get real candid right now about the odds of them not fucking in this city, and why those odds are what they are, and the many ways that is not great. Or should if he were willing to be that direct with anyone and Joker weren't Joker.
"Why don't you get settled in, then send a text." His voice is still way, way, too mild - bordering on monotone.
Then he is absolutely going to walk away.
Which is also frustrating as hell.
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But at this particular moment, when Joker is only just barely managing to suppress his laughter enough to speak? It's just more fuel on the comedy fire. And when Bats's rejoinder (if it can even be called that) arrives, Joker can't help but start laughing all over again.
"Oh," he manages, between hoots. "I'll do that." Christ, he's actually tearing up with this. He swipes at one eye, then the other, with the back of his thumb. "I'll send a text."
And in the meantime, they'll... what? Just keep on doing what they've been doing all this time?
Just now with. You know. A few raunchy texts worked in there between escapades. A couple Bat-nudes here and there, to spice up the hunt!
He's laughing so hard it almost hurts now, that wonderful pressure building up just below his sternum. Not quite the hurts-so-good he was expecting from this conversation, but hey!
Joker tries to get a steadying breath. Fails. Tries again, and this time, succeeds enough to add, "You take care, now, Brucie Boy." Another laugh. "And good luck with that cat!"