Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My shy knight

I've got so many holes to fill
believe me, it's my will
for you to penetrate me
to mark me, claim me, take me.

I love it when you suck me
I love it when you fuck me.
You are my faithful lover
my hero undercover.

I give you life, I pump you up
when I just need a simple fuck.
No words, no foreplay, no ado
just me, my needs, without the rue.

You are my dearest fetish toy
cause you are silent, ready
faithful, coy.

I love your holes,
your mouth, your ass
even your puss
no less.

You give me warmth, you give me love
your body's like the perfect glove.
You are my substitute of choice
you make me groan and grow, rejoice.

My dearest Joker mine
I'll never cross that line
Never you will know
about my love for you.
My secret lover, fucktoy, tease
just let me love you, fuck you, please.

I am a love doll.
You don't believe me? Ask my lover and he will confirm that info.
I am the love doll of a very special man with very special needs. Not too special anyway, quite ordinary, in fact, but considering my look, I think it's not too daring to call them “special”. But I can't complain.
I have been serving him for three years now, at least I think so. It feels like an eternity to me; a good one. It never gets boring with him since I got more than one hole to offer and he is a very creative man. I am a love doll, but our relationship is not limited to sex only. He's even taken me along to the movies one time, hidden me under his jacket, taken a seat, unfolded me and placed me in his lap and I had to watch a romantic comedy with him. I didn't get much of the movie anyway since I was so busy feeling his hard-on pressing against my back. Well, it mostly is about sex, granted. Even when he takes me to bed to spend the night with him, I feel his hard dick on my skin several times during the night. Who knows what he is dreaming of.
I feel so happy when he allows me to sleep in his bed since usually, I sleep in a drawer, neatly folded, waiting. Sometimes, for a week, even.

But when he opens the drawer and I see light, blinding light only interrupted by his huge hairy hand, I melt. I know then that the time of love has come again. Five greedy fingers grab me, take me out of the darkness and put me on the floor. He is so gentle when he unfolds me, he treats me with such respect; so contrary to when he gets going. I enjoy it when he touches me so cautiously; he just doesn't want me to rip or get a hole. Carefully, he spreads my limbs on the floor and positions my head. When he is done, he gets up and looks at me. At the beginning of our relationship, I didn't know what to make of that look. It gave me strange feelings.

Anyway, for me, it had been love at first sight. I don't remember how I was born and not much of what followed then; I only got to connect with my existence when I became aware of the darkness around me. I tried to feel my body and was a little shocked when I found out that it is folded and clothed in plastic. Well, I'm made of plastic too, don't get me wrong, but I supposed I wasn't made for living in a plastic shell at all. However, it didn't take long and I was freed from it. When the paper cover was removed, I saw the world for the first time and what I saw was the face of a man with such love in his eyes that I would have cried, but it is not in my nature to cry. It is not in my nature to speak either. I was born mute. When I had seen him, I had known that I had been different from him: He could speak, he could cry, although I only found out about that later, and he could move. Though, my deficiencies did not worry me. After all, I was made this way and thus, perfect. I was made to serve.

These days, when he looks at me after unfolding me, his look is not only full of love, but also doubt. And shame. My social skills are amazing although I cannot use them on people. I just feel what he feels. As I said, the first few times, I was worried since I inspired such negative feelings. However, I got to learn that it is his problem and not mine. The shame persists, all through our intercourse, but it dwindles towards the end, when he is satisfied. It is a bittersweet experience for him; I can feel that he craves me, but at the same time, I can feel that he tries to deny it. He is torn between desire and shame. And maybe it is that which makes him leave me in the drawer for weeks, sometimes, when the shame is stronger than his desire. But I know that eventually, his needs will gain the upper hand and it will reach for me again. And what I can offer as comfort is my smooth surface and a few holes and mostly, that's enough.

Again, he looks at me with these fiery eyes. I see how much he craves for filling me. His crotch is bulging; he must have spent the entire day thinking of me yet again. I love it when he comes home from work and seeks me out, without a shower, all sweaty and with that musky note on his skin. He is such a beast; one would not suspect anything, seeing him in his business suit with his hair neatly combed back and that confident look in his eyes, but once he gets out of his suit, I see a force being freed which is breathtaking. Such manliness, this muscular body, hair all over it and the way he moves when he's naked, it is pure erotics. Yes, I have to admit that he turns me on. He never gets to see my arousal since I cannot show it or express it appropriately, but when I am aroused, I suck in more air through the valve and pump myself up some more to make it even tighter for him and myself.

He turns around now and gets himself the air pump. My lover does it the old way; he enjoys pumping me up with his hands. Surely, there must be some tools which do the job on their own, but he loves using his hands. It is like foreplay for him, pumping air into me, inflating me and later on, he'll just pump me up with his semen.
When the air is forced into me, I come to life. It is an incredible feeling to be spread, when my skin parts and a growing cushion of air is resting between my back and front. When he slams his hands down and presses a ball of air into me, I feel my skin shaking with bliss. His look changes as he watches me trembling and his passion grows. Slowly, my body lifts itself as I feel myself getting plumper and plumper and only some spots of my skin are touching the floor anymore.

Several times, he tests my plumpness and whenever he touches me with his forefinger to squeeze me, I feel the air inside me getting compressed, just a little, but enough to make me hard.
Once I have reached my full size, he keeps pumping. My skin gets stretched and I ache for more and more. He enjoys forcing more into me; I see it in his eyes.
When he is satisfied, he stops, removes the pump and closes my valve. I get excited. Once again, he just stands there and looks at me and I feel flattered how long and how hard he is by now. I put my best foot forward then. Chin up, chest out. I love it when he ogles at me and looks at my body.

I must say I am quite fine with my look. I wear a purple fishtail jacket and a green shirt. Both are open so you see my chest and belly. And much more. My purple pants are just around my knees so my genital is exposed too. Although I am male, so I suppose, they did not give me a penis to inflate but rather a hole.
Another hole is in my head, where my mouth is supposed to be. Instead, they gave me thick rubber lips which don't need to be inflated. Bright red. The inside of my mouth is pink, or let's say, it was pink. Above my mouth, I got a long and thin nose which can be inflated too and once, he even played with it with his dick, nudged it, squeezed it, even sat down on it.
Above my nose, I got two eyes, quite small, but with such long lashes that they appear bigger. My eyes are green and I have been born with a very seductive look, so I must remark. On top of my head, I got short green hair, but it's just painted on my head.

Now if we turn to the back of me, I got another hole there, you might have guessed so already. Sometimes, he fucks my back, sometimes, he fucks my pussy hole and sometimes, he fucks my mouth, but when he's not in the mood for fucking any of my holes, he inserts a dildo into my plastic pussy, fastens it with a strap and masculinises me.
He stretches his ass in front of me, sitting down on a buttplug while facing me and glaring at me with these needy eyes. When he's done, he squats down, still facing me, lubes me and starts inserting the dildo into his ass. Sadly, I can't feel anything then since the dildo is not part of me and all I have left for my own pleasure is watching him going mad with lust above me as he rides me.

He is very different when he fucks me like that. He changes from this self-confident and demanding beast into a submissive and almost shy man. Sometimes, he even looks away when he rides me since he seems to be unable to stand my look then. His cheeks are red from arousal, but also from shame. But he likes this kind of shame. It is that which he is going for when he rides me with his ass. I can almost hear him thinking then; it shows in his eyes.
Please, I need it. I'm just a pathetic slave, please fuck me hard.
I feel the ring of plastic tightening around the dildo then. His thoughts make me go crazy. He opens his mouth and moans; insecure, shameful moans. His sweat drops on my skin, we get wet.

He keeps me down with his hands and legs while he keeps slamming his hole against mine. They meet, in one way or another, and I am grateful that he lets me feel some of it too, even though I can't be inside him. I get jealous of this simple thing in my hole, honestly. It is allowed to enter him and feel his insides. Oh well, I should not complain. Once, he's shoved my hand up his ass and I got to feel it. Warm, moist, dirty there. He almost crushed my hand with his extremely talented butt muscles. But I got so hard. As he squeezed the air out of my hand, I felt it going numb and my pussy hole got so tight again. I am able to come too, but again, in my own way.

When I notice that I am aroused, my skin gets tight. I feel so bloated then, like he has given me a few extra pumps to make me hard. As the air gets compressed, I feel warmth growing inside me. The more aroused he gets, the more aroused I get too and the warmth turns into heat. When he rubs his skin against mine, he causes that extra bit of friction which feels like a fire to me. He shakes me with his moves when he penetrates me and I get pressed against the floor; there are so many sensations I can feel so clearly and they all add to this pleasant heat. And when he screams and growls, I feel the vibrations inside me; he makes the air tremble and stimulate my insides.

Sometimes, he slips and his skin rubs against mine and produces this sound – oh dear, I am a slave to that sound. A shrill “ueeetch” and he repositions himself and continues. It makes my insides shake. When I get close to orgasm, I feel like merging with him. My plastic surface dissolves and we merge. I am in the air then, on his body, in his mind, everywhere.
I twitch when I come. He doesn't notice, but I do. Moments before orgasm, I return to my body and my mantle gets so tight and I expand, but my pleasure is walled by a thick membrane and it is so lustful to feel it. Being thrown back into my body makes me come then. I stretch my neck and a silent scream leaves my permanently open mouth – unless he doesn't just fuck it. If he does, I send my scream up his urethra and I drown in cum. He tries to pump it into me, but I have only limited space for that so eventually, it trickles down my chin and wets my neck. A breathtaking feeling. This warm liquid. The sign of his love.

Ruthlessly, he fucks my mouth when he is in the mood for oral pleasures. It is like he wants to crush my head with his dick when he does so. I see this aggressive gleam in his eyes and he doesn't hold back anymore. The shame has wandered off, to the back of his mind. He squeezes my throat when he mouthfucks me and all the air in my head gets compressed and I feel like bursting and spilling my brains on the floor.

“I hate you so much,” he growls and tightens his grip around my throat.

But his words and what he really feels are two different things. He enjoys telling me how much he hates me, but he can't hide from me. His eyes are so sad then. They long for me, they crave my touch, my words, my gentle hands, but I can't give it to him and I feel a little sad then too. I know that he uses me as a substitute. Without doubt, there must be a real man in this world with my looks whom he just can't have. But I am not jealous. This is just how it goes. I am here to please him and I am here to be his substitute and that's alright for me.

When his sadness overwhelms him, he screams and fucks my head into the floor. He tries to get as much of me as possible, to get as much of his dick into me as he can without ripping me, but it is never enough. I tighten my lips for him, I do my best to help him and I am glad when he finally closes his eyes, lifts his head and rocks his hips against my head so I don't need to see his sadness anymore. He thinks of that man then and that is what makes him come. He stifles his moans and silently, he comes in my mouth. I feel his soul breaking every time he does that. It is like a desperate attempt to escape it all and get it at the same time.

His cum stops flowing and he is breathing hard. Only after his orgasm, he is able to look at me again and I flutter my eyelashes for him. He smiles, then he gets up and cleans me. With such love.
It seems like every hole of mine appeals to a different side of his character. While my artificial penis appeals to his submissive side, my mouth seems to be the spot which causes anger and this sadness. He doesn't do it too often, thus. Since mostly, he just fucks my pussy hole. While I don't have any favourite hole, he prefers this one. And I know why.
Definitely, he is into that man and though, he tries to avoid admitting that he is gay. There’s a reason why I got a hole there and why he prefers this one and honestly, the lipstick on my lips and my eyelashes? He’d love to be into a woman but he has fallen for a man. And this is me.

My pussy hole is so sore by now that I fear my skin might rip the next time he fucks me. The colour of that love tunnel has faded; he’s rubbed it off with his penis. When he penetrates my lower front, he turns ruthless. Even worse than when he fucks my mouth. My pussy is the epitome of hate and love at the same time.
I see this grim determination in his eyes then. They are so big when he gazes at me like he wanted to eat me up. He turns into a real macho when he fucks my pussy hole. How he poses above me, how he straightens his back and pants towards the ceiling and when he lowers his head and looks at me again, it is half open, twisted into an evil grin, his tongue resting on his teeth. Pure evil. Again, you wouldn’t think him capable of such an expression if you saw him in his business suit.

It’s like he knows that he can allow himself to indulge in this kind of abuse and delves into it. He wouldn’t do that with a real woman at all, but with me, he can do it. I am silent, patient, submissive. Coy, almost. I’ll never object to his thrusts at any time of the day or night, I won’t complain. I am his silent fuck companion whom he can use as he pleases and he does, believe me, he does.
As soon as his dick is buried in my hole, he fucks me like the needle of a sewing machine, tacca tacca tacca. He doesn’t stop until he comes. I feel that he is not interested in me anymore as a person but only in the possibility of pushing his dick into me. I truly feel like an object when he fucks my puss. A bit disturbing. It reminds me of what I am, since at the end of the day, I am nothing more but a plastic love doll.

Though, when I see drool trickling down his chin as he forgets to swallow, busy with shoving his dick up my plastic puss, I beam with joy and forget that I am nothing but a toy. He gives my life a purpose, he adds sense to my existence.
His wild humps don't allow for much contemplation. The fire in his eyes is scary when he drives it in again; he seems to enjoy the thought that I deserve it, whatever that is. Give me your anger, your fear, your love, whatever you can spare. I'll take it and turn it into pleasure.
And so it is.

A few violent thrusts later, he comes. It always happens with a growl and he doesn't stop riding me through his orgasm. It's a mess.
Sometimes, shortly before he comes, he draws back and shoots his load on my face. I can't close my eyes, but sometimes, I wished I could. When his cum hits my face, I jerk, I never see it coming till it hits me. I need a few moments then to focus. It's hard to do so with cum in my eyes. His face is blurred, but I see satisfaction in his eyes. It is like he wants to punish me with cumming my face.
While he catches his breath, he is glaring at me and I see the echoes of his thoughts flashing across his face.
Scary moments. It is then when I come to think that better he's using me than doing it to the real one. But maybe the real one deserves it. He wouldn't do it otherwise.

Since behind these lusty blue eyes, there's such smartness that whatever he does, you can be sure it's done on purpose and not just an emotional act.
Whether he comes in my pussy or in my mouth, it is always the same. He comes, then he glares at me. And when he's done glaring at me, he drops me and heads for the bathroom to take a shower, leaving me on the floor, claimed and marked. It takes him 30 minutes to shower and another ten minutes until I see him again. When his eyes spot me on the floor, he stomps towards me and kicks me. He knows he can't hurt me with it; I safely land on the floor again. I condone that derisive act since I know that this is what he needs, currently.

Half an hour later, when he has calmed down with a glass of wine, he gets back to me with rueful eyes, picks me up and cleans me. He avoids looking at my eyes; they are glued to my mouth. I know his procedures and I'm not angry at him. Bad day. Everyone got those. With him, it's just many bad days. But it's alright. I take it without complaints.
Sometimes, when he fucks my pussy, he treats me with more respect, but always, I can feel his anger, also when he holds back. I can't say that this my least favourite fuck position since he always gifts me with his cum and special kind of love, but there are others which are more rewarding for me.

Like when he fucks my back, he is different again. A little more shyly, he invades my body and silently, I grin. As my ass cheeks get spread, he pushes against my hole so gently that I close my eyes and concentrate on his touch only. Seldom, I am gifted with his gentleness and a back fuck since it reminds him of being a faggot. However, sometimes, I have the impression that he enjoys humiliating himself and thinking of himself as a dirty assfucker. Whenever he fucks my back, he puts me on his bed so I face the mattress. Before he penetrates me, he lies down on my body and fondles my head with his. He’s so heavy. Once, the valve has even popped and I’ve lost my filling, so excited have I been at having him so close to me and treating me in such a gentle way, but he’s hurried to pump me up and close it again. Since then, I try to keep it closed when he lies on top of me. I try to bear with the pressure he causes inside me and I have to admit that I begin to feel aroused already.

He kisses my neck and I can feel his hard dick digging into my body while he caresses my arms with his fingers. He can be so romantic. And it’s funny since he’s only being romantic when he fucks my ass. A strange man, so full of inferiority complexes and doubts. But with me, he can be who he truly is. He doesn’t need to apologize with me nor does he need to regret anything he’s ever done. Even if he should come to tear me apart in his frenzy I’d condone it. Cause that’s what I was made for. To please him.
So gently, he kisses my back, then he turns me around, winds his arms around my chest and kisses my rubber lips. He tastes wonderful.
His tongue leaves my mouth and he stares hard at me. I try to return that stare. He licks his lips and bites down on his lower lip. He is trying to deny it. But he can’t. He has just kissed me.

His eyes nervously brush over my face and chest. My flat chest. No boobs there, right. He flips me over again, pours lube into my ass and before his shame returns and chokes his erection, he grips his dick and pushes his glans into my ass hole. I feel that he tries to hold back; his tight grip on my ass tells me so. It's like he is asking himself whether he can afford to let go and give his body and mind what it needs, apparently. Some moments of contemplation, then he pushes it in until his glans touches the bottom of my hole. He leans down on my body and compresses the air again, then he rocks his hips, very cautiously, testing my hole, although he knows it inside out anyway. Hesitantly, he rubs his dick against my skin and I can hear his breathing speeding up. The shame fades; he snorts and rides me harder.

While he is only moving his hips, he rubs his forehead against my back and I feel his longing once again. I try to be of help and tighten my hole while his dick grows. He starts panting, sending his hot breath against my skin and it gets wet. He repositions himself, sits up and lifts me so I sit in his lap. Needy hands fondle my nipples and caress my chest while his tongue explores my back. He'd be a great lover to that man. Several times, he squeezes my chest while I just rest on his dick and when he's done with that, his fingers wander down and he sticks them into my pussy hole to finger me.

I feel so loved, so cherished. When he is in the mood for my ass, he treats me with such respect, like I was a real person. Honestly, I can't imagine getting used by anyone else. Even if he turns into that violent beast, I still love him. I put up with his harsh behaviour since I know that this is just what he needs then, but I enjoy it even more when he is so gentle.
His fingers caress my inside; they push against the bottom of my front hole until he meets with his dick in my back. I hear him licking his lips and his pants turn even hotter. Forcefully, he presses against both walls so he can stroke himself with my skin between his dick and fingers.
He groans and bites my neck. Gently, so not to rip my skin. Again, he starts rocking his hips and fucks my hole and his hand. It is such a sensual dance.

As I feel his sweaty skin against mine, I know that he has managed to let go and now fully enjoys it. Not long and he changes his position again; he gets up, keeping his dick in my hole, and walks to the wall to press me against it. The final position. He is so worked up by now that he turns a little violent again, not paying attention to my well-being anymore. Brutally, I get slammed against the wall and he fixates me there so I don't move when he draws back.
His need surfaces yet again and he crashes against my body every time he pushes it in. Sweaty skin, his breath, his bruising touch, I lose myself.
Thrust by thrust, his tension grows and he growls and fucks me hard. My ass gets a little tighter; I want to feel him, all of him.

“You drive me crazy,” he hisses and buries his dick in my hole once again.

“You sexy as fuck asshole,” he adds when he draws back.

“Why do you have to be SO,” he growls and enters me again, “Irresistible!”

I feel so flattered.

“I'm making a fool of myself,” he breathes and leaves me again, “You fucked up clown. Sometimes, I just want to punch that smile out of your mug,” he continues and I feel his tip resting against my rubber seam, “I want to rip the clothes from your body,” he breathes and his voice gets more agitated, “Watch you opening your eyes wide in surprise,” he rasps and fondles my neck with his nose, “Turn you around and push it in,” he growls and shows me what he'd like to do.

He remaims silent then. All that I hear is his breath and his moans as he rides me. Long, hard thrusts to make my hole sore yet again.
His moans get louder and I know that he is close. I pray that his shame won't overwhelm him now. Once, it's happened and he's stopped and hurled me against the floor in his anger. He apologized later on, but I felt so sorry for him. He is such a likable man and it hurts to watch him feeling so low.
Usually, however, he continues and his touch is getting rougher again; he squeezes my arms and ass and makes it feel all tight again. His breathing speeds up, a few more moments and he comes inside me, filling me with his hot semen. His release is accompanied by breathy moans and uncoordinated moves. His orgasm is so intense that he looses all body control and moves wildly, accidentally hitting me with his hands and slamming his head into me.

I smile smugly, knowing that I am giving him a good time yet again. His cum is too much for my hole which is still filled with his twitching dick and it trickles down my thighs. It makes me shudder with bliss, this sensation.
When his orgasm fades, he stops moving and just stays inside me. I feel his dick shrinking until I barely can feel it inside anymore. He holds on to me, rests against me while he recovers. He needs minutes to get back to himself.
Finally, he sighs and leaves me, then he turns me around and looks at my face. It is frozen since I can't move any muscles, but he knows that it's alright. I try to give him the feeling that it's alright.

In return, eyes filled with such love gaze back at me. I'd like to say something, but I can't. He closes them for a few moments, then he turns away and takes me to the bathroom where he cleans me. Always, he makes sure that the water is warm enough. He is so cute.
I love him.
And he loves me. That's enough for me.

When he deflates me again and puts me in the drawer, I am left with warm feelings to dwell upon. I see his face in the darkness, his eyes, his faint smile. I love him so much that I'd wish for him to meet this man and give to him what he gives me. I want him happy. Even if that would be the end of our relationship since he'd have the real one to use then, but I'd stay in my drawer and know that he doesn't take me out anymore because he's truly happy. I'd be fine with that.
And this is why every time he opens the drawer, I feel such joy, but a little sadness too. I know that he still hasn't managed to walk up to that man and tell him about his feelings, or like he likes to put it – see the surprise in his face and push it in.

Every once in a while, he doesn't just take me out of the drawer for sex. I know that it won't be sex when I see his clothes, his face and these sad eyes. Almost desperate. He is wearing his home attire already and he takes me to the bed and sits down next to me. For a while, it is silent. It seems like he needs some time to get himself to talk. When he is so silent, staring at the blanket, I'd love to put my hand around his back to comfort him and encourage him to talk.
He sighs, and I know that he is ready, finally.

“Why can't you simply stop terrorizing people,” he starts off and falls silent again.

“It would be so much easier. Just everything.”

It always starts the same way. He voices his most pressing question.

“I'm so tired of this all. I don't know for how long I will be able to continue. You don't make quitting easy for me, you know. In fact,” he continues after a pause, “It's the only way I can meet you,” he says and turns his head to look at me.

His eyes wander down my body and up again. A bit sceptically, he looks at me and I'd like to tell him that it's fine and he shall continue, but he does so anyway after another pause.

“I hate it when I am forced to stop you from fucking people's lives up again. I just don't get you. Is it really such fun for you when you see them suffering? You're such an intelligent man and though, you keep wasting your potential on destroying this earth.”

Well, some things must die so new ones can grow.
Over time, I have come to develop a personality during these talks and I come to find that I have a strong view on the ways of the world, although I don't really partake. Even though I am a love doll, I am entitled to have an opinion too, ain't I.

“It's pointless anyway. I feel like I'm locked in a stalemate. I do my things and you do your things. And I can't stop at all unless you stop.”

His despair grows.

“Anyway, maybe I shouldn't be so harsh with you. If we were not what we are, maybe we never would have met. But it's killing me. I don't even meet women anymore. When I see them, I have to think of you. Their bodies don't turn me on anymore, it's like they have lost their appeal. And I'm stuck with a plastic pussy hole, oh heavens,” he sighs and wipes over his face.

Another pause during which he tries to work on his feelings of shame.

“I feel like I have no choice anymore. I hate it, but I can't get out of this anymore,” he says and pulls me closer so our bodies touch.

It gives him comfort.
And me too.

“So often, I have thought about the things I'd say to you if you were just listening. I have to admit that I just feel too intimidated by your loud laughter and your looks than to touch on this topic. I fear you might laugh at me. Which you probably would. Whenever I see you, I feel this warmth, this heat, even. I get so...”

He falls silent. He has difficulties saying that word, even if no one else but me will hear it.

“Aroused when I see you. If you knew you'd burst into laughter, again. The way you move, what you wear, your look. It is such a tease. And when you start with your innuendos, I lose it. When you tell me that you have been missing me and show me this wicked smile, I feel my heart skipping a beat. For a moment, I dare to believe you and enjoy this feeling. But I know you don't mean it, it's just meant to upset me, but I don't feel upset. I feel sad. Because I wished it was true.”

His voice turns sadder and he presses me against his body. He bites down on his lower lip and stares at the blanket. I know he will cry again. It will break my heart.

“I really wished it was true,” he whispers and I hear tears in his voice.

“When you say these things, it hurts so much. They make me think of us feeling this way and I crave it so badly. I wished you were yearning for me the way I do for you. That you think of me when you are sitting in your chair and scheme. That you think about how we can meet just another time, that you try to come up with a plan to make me leave my house and look for you to keep you from whatever shit you have come up yet again only to see me. I wished it was like that. So your terror wouldn't be pointless. Not for me, at least. But maybe I'm asking too much of you,” he breathes and a tear leaves his eye.

He sighs and presses his head against mine. His tear touches my cheek. I'd cry too if I were able to.

“Sometimes,” he says with a weepy voice, “I feel stronger and ready to tell you, ask you about your feelings, but when I see you, I feel so scared again. You laugh when you see me and I love listening to your laughter. But soon, your laughter just reminds me of our places. You're over there, I'm here and no way to cross that line.
And my sadness turns into anger and frustration. If we can't fuck each other we can beat each other up, at least. It's a way of love too, isn't it. I just don't know what to do. Every day, I feel worse. Slightly, but continually worse.”

His tears choke him and he falls silent. He turns to sobbing and lies down with me, hugging me tightly.
It breaks my heart.
His despair is hard to stand.

“I love you so much,” he cries against my skin and tightens his embrace.

He cries for minutes. I feel his body jerking from his sobs while his hand clings to me so tightly. I just don't know how to help you. I can just be here for you in silence.
Sometimes, when he holds me like that, he turns to screaming. It is even worse than his crying. Loud, frustrated cries.

His butler once has opened the door to check on him. I felt a little awkward since he butted in at such a private moment. As usual, he tried to help him, asked him whether he could help and he had said No. He feels as helpless as I feel. But it hasn't always been like that. Once I have heard them talking, arguing, yelling. Repeatedly, I have heard the word “Joker” and once even my name so I have to assume that the real one is called “Joker”. After that quarrel, he has entered our room, slammed the door shut and taken me out of the drawer. He pumped me up, carried me out of the room and presented me to his butler. It was so embarrassing for me to face him like that. And even more so since I saw the shock in his eyes.

“Yes, I am THAT desperate!!!” he yelled at him.

But his butler remained silent and just gazed at me. My pussy hole shrank a little at that glare. After a minute of dead silence, he hurled me against the wall and faced him again, screaming: “Don't tell me what to do! You have no IDEA how much I am suffering! You think it's easy for me?! Loving a man who is worse than the devil?! I don't even KNOW why I love him, but I do!!!”

His butler turned to looking like a drowned rat.
From then on, I have never seen him again, except for that one time when he has entered his room while we had been in bed. It comforts me to know that I am not alone with my sadness. Although I barely see his butler anymore, I know that he feels the same and it's a little easier for me to bear with these feelings when I remind myself of that. But still, when he screams, I fear that I am losing him. I dread his anger. Although I know that he will never hurt me on purpose, not in this way, at least, I feel so scared when I see these mad eyes and his open mouth.
But eventually, he calms down and his sobs or screams fade. He can't cry and rage forever, can he. When he's dried his eyes with the pillow, he pulls me closer again, covers us with the blanket and makes me face him so he can stick his dick into my hole and like that, he falls asleep.

When his breathing rhythm changes, I know that he is asleep, finally, and I still feel his tears on my skin. They turn into my own. He is such a big-hearted man. So sensitive. I know he'd be a great lover for that man and I think that he even could turn his life around with his naïve love. But in order to do so, he'd need to approach him and as he said, he is too afraid of being rejected. Maybe one day, it will escalate and he'll face the choice of killing himself or asking that man about his feelings. Because I definitely see this happening. One day, his sorrow will be so overwhelming that he will consider ending his life. He sees no way out of this.
And when he has reached rock bottom, nothing left to lose, he might ask him. Because he can still kill himself after that rebuff.

When I listen to his calm breathing, I calm down too. It is so intense for me when I see him suffering like this. I need the entire night to get that despair out of my soul again and I only manage since I try to focus on being here for him again, the way I am supposed to. Imagine, if I got a hole or got damaged in some other way, he'd lose even the little that is left for him. I can't give up. I need to be here for him.

My poor man.
So often, I see him approaching that man, showing him these same eyes which he lets me glimpse; I see him touching him so respectfully as he touches me and I also see him bruising his hole with his dick, because that's definitely another side of him. I see him laughing together with him, holding hands, having dinner together and lying in bed in silence, just hugging each other. I see him telling that he loves him and I see him gifting him with roses and chocolates.

But he doesn't. He sticks with me. His substitute. My fearful, poor man.
One day, I hope you will pluck up your courage and meet that man for a kiss or a ride. Until then, all that is left for me to do is serving you as your pumped up plastic lover and companion and I will try to give you all you need. Although I know that I can't, but I will try.
My shy knight.

___

Chapter Text

The drawer was opened and daylight blinded me instead of the dim evening light. Instantly, when I felt that rough touch, I knew that something was wrong. I got pulled out of my drawer and was taken on a journey through Wayne Manor. Violently, a valve got pushed inside me and quick and forceful moves pumped me up. I did not enjoy it.
When I was full enough for his taste, he seized my throat and carried me outside, having my feet grazing over the floor. I hurt myself a few times; I was close to tears. I wasn’t used to such rough treatment.

As he carried me outside, I only saw shoes, but I knew that those were not his. The car of a door was opened, I was hurled against a seat and my legs got adjusted so I was sitting there. I’d have liked to spend the journey on the backseat, but that man wasn’t done with offloading his anger. He started the engine with an angry hiss, then he darted me a glance. Mad eyes under thick grey eyebrows were trying to kill me. His lips twitched, then he turned his head and drove off. I was so confused that I felt afraid. Never, anything of the like had ever happened to me.

“I stil can’t believe it,” he started off, finally.

The tone of his voice didn’t bode well.

“Just disgusting. I’ve been watching this for long enough.”

Silence for a few minutes, then he started off again and I dared to look at him, finally. He was fuming with rage, tightly gripping the steering wheel and driving the car like a tank.

“This is just sick and you perpetuate his illness. I should have taken corrective action months ago when he showed you to me. I couldn’t believe it. You filthy piece of rotten scum. So many girls out there and he picks you. You,” he repeated and darted me another angry glare.

“I have no idea what he finds so attractive about you. You manipulated him, didn’t you. Like you try to do it with all men who cross your way, you sick asshole. I’ve tried to protect him from you, but apparently, I have failed. But I won’t tolerate that, no, I won’t.”

With every word he spat into the car, I felt more abashed.
Nothing of that was my fault.

“I’ll get you as far away as possible. He’ll be searching for you, hah, but he will never search for you there.”

10 more minutes of passionate hate speech later, he stopped the car, took me and got out of it. There was a huge building in front of us and he approached it, tried to open the door and gave a short laugh at finding it unlocked. We entered, he switched on a torch and instantly, I came to screw up my nose. This place smelled like hell. Several vats were lined up there and I could not see the ceiling of that hall at all. I didn’t know this place, but I could feel that something was wrong with it. It was deserted and though, feelings and thoughts of people were tied to this place. It was like a silent murmur, in the air, in the walls, in the vats. Something terrible must have happened there.
He took a few more steps, then he dropped me on the floor, turned around and closed the door behind him. Darkness flooded the hall and it was dead silent. Except for those murmuring voices.

I felt so afraid that I’d have peed my pants, had I had pants and a bladder. Anxiously, I looked around, but it was too dark than to see anything. I spent 10 minutes in this terror-stricken state until I managed to calm down a little, acknowledging that I was the only being alive in here.
I lay there in silence, surrounded by strange smells which seemed to change every day. It felt like an eternity. So often, I thought of him, how he might be doing now. It was like I could feel his longing even from here, miles away. I felt so sorry. Once, for a moment, I was afraid that he might get just another one like me and continue with this one, but my feelings told me that he wouldn't do that. We had been a couple for a year. He would not betray me.

Suddenly, I heard a sound. The door was opened and someone entered. For a moment, I saw faint light shining through the open door, but it was closed and the light died away. However, by now, my eyes had gotten used to that darkness since it was similar to that in my drawer and I could see in it.
Although I had never met this man before, I could relate to his feelings.
Sadness. Sorrow. Pain. It was easy to recognize them since they were the same which I felt with my man.
His footsteps echoed in the hall, but suddenly, they stopped. After a while, they came closer and I came to see the face of that man. Instantly, I recognized him. His head was red from shame.
A warm feeling spread inside me. This felt right.
Carefully, he touched me while his eyes told me that he still could not believe what he was seeing. He was moved to tears. And this bittersweet feeling clothed us in silence. His soul seemed so fragile, even more fragile than my man's.

“Where are you from,” I heard his soft voice being whispered into the hall while he brushed over my face.

I was lifted and we left the plant. He put me on the seat next to him and started the engine. The man was shaking. Not from the cold.
I leaned back and enjoyed the drive. It felt so right.
So right.

We arrived at his home and while he carried me upstairs, he burst into laughter. I knew that he was laughing at me. Well, I’d have done the same, had I found a love doll version of myself.
He opened his flat and before I saw much, he opened a door and dropped me in a small room, closed the door and went away. Well, it wasn’t much different from my drawer bed anyway and I even came to feel at home, somehow.
Once, he took me out, took a picture of my belly and then put me back in the darkness. It felt like he was trying to avoid contact with me. I felt confused since he had faced such intense feelings the first time he had seen me and now he was ignoring me. Or it felt like ignoring me.
Though, after days, he took me out again and put me on the couch and he laughed. For minutes. I have never seen one laughing so hard. He's put me back in the room then and the next day, he opened the door and burst into laughter again when he saw me. This went on for a few days.
The next time I was taken out, the real adventure just began.

___

Another day when I had been thinking of him only and I figured that it was time to meet him once again. I got home from work, showered and went to the cupboard to take it out.
When emptiness gazed back at me, I froze and held my breath. It was not there.
But it was supposed to be there. It had always been there since I had always put it back in the drawer. There was only one man who could have taken it.
Fuming with rage, I stomped into the living room where Alfred was watching the stock market. Months ago, he had started doing that since I did not any longer. He turned his head and I started.

“Where is the doll,” I said with a voice shaking with anger.

“The doll?”

“DON'T PRETEND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!”

“Master Bruce, please calm down,” he said with a shocked voice and got up from the chair.

“Where is it?!” I yelled at him and he glared hard at me.

“Master Bruce, it should stay where it is now. Honestly, I have been watching for so long how it poisoned your mind and I don't want it to be back again. You've got work to tend to, people are counting on you at night and I see how you are struggling to tend to this all. You should give it up.”

Breathing hard, I was listening to his stupid babbling and by the end of his explanation, I was so speechless that I just glared at him.

“Where. is. it,” I whispered, trying to threaten him with my tone.

He pressed his lips together and crossed his arms, glaring at me.
With a scream, I hit the wall with my fist and stomped back to the sleeping room, feeling tears of anger in my eyes already. I slammed the door shut and sat down on the bed, cursing him. I felt so angry that I lifted my head several times just to tense up those muscles and get rid of that tension, but it didn't work. I kicked the blanket and stopped when I realized that I was relapsing into childish behaviour so I took a deep breath and fell silent.

Just because of a doll. But it wasn't just “because of a doll”. The doll was the only connection with him, the only physical thing which connected me with him. As my mind got compressed by heavy despair, I even toyed with the idea of walking up to him to end this eternal suffering. Even if he'd laugh at me and make fun of me, at least, it would be over. And I'd sit on my bed once again, crying, my mind perishing, knowing that this love would be unrequited forever. But that felt even worse than sticking with my doll and a whiff of hope at least.

I sat in the darkness of my sleeping room, gazing at the wall. On and off, my eyes wandered to the cupboard and that drawer, but the thought that it was empty now hurt too much. I felt so alone, suddenly. Like the last man on earth. Given up by all others. In my soul, I felt alone since I could not share my thoughts or love at all; no one in this world knew about us except for Alfred and he didn't help me feel less lonely. But in my soul, there had been someone else, one person and one only. I had seen him in the doll, it was like it was alive and it had always served to make me feel less alone, but now that it was gone, I was alone.

I clenched my teeth, trying to keep myself from crying. My soul ached for seeing him once again, for touching him, the doll at least, for heaven's sake if not him in person. He was so far away from me, but now that the doll was gone too, I felt like sitting in a well shaft which was so deep that there was no light visible above me anymore.
His absence made me feel so desperate that I gave a breathy hiss and lay down, allowing myself to cry.
Once more.

How often had I cried already. I had thought that it couldn't get any worse with me and him, but right now, I was one floor under hell. Since that he was gone showed me what a slave I had become to him and at the same time, it reminded me of how impossible it was to ever walk up to him in person.
It wasn't even so much the fact that Alfred had taken the doll from me and that it was not there anymore, but the whole situation was getting to me and it was worse than ever before. It seemed ridiculous to keep a sex doll because I was too afraid than dealing with him in person and my own piteousness made me cry even harder. I felt like I didn't deserve to live in this world anymore. I was too misplaced in it, too weird. Not enough that I loved a man who was the contrary of me, but I was also keeping a sex doll of him which I tried to comfort myself with. Just pathetic.

I cried for half an hour in the darkness until my body was too tired than to carry on. Lying on my side with my head on the wet pillow, I turned to stifled sobs; I had worked myself into such sadness that my body was still jerking from crying so hard.
I wanted to die.
It was kind of a solution. One of many. Since one was walking up to him, bearing with his gleeful laughter and returning home heartbroken and then maybe killing myself. Another one was continuing like before, ordering another doll and spending the rest of my life in secret yearning which would eat up my soul and slowly turn me into a numb and demented retard since my mind would try to forget the torments of this reality and escape into another one.
Bright prospects. It was hopeless.

I spent the night awake until I fell asleep at 5am only to be woken by the alarm at 6am. Dazed and confused, I tried to connect with this world and it took me a minute full of chaos to sort my life out. In my bed, Tuesday, work, Bruce Wayne, suit.
When I had gotten it right, I got up and dragged myself to the dressing room, then I let my body fall on the chair to pour some coffee down my throat. Nothing of this made sense. It happened automatically since I had given up control over my life and this empty shell stubbornly continued on its own, doing what it had been doing for the last 6 years.
Coffee in my stomach, a buttered bun which I shoved down my throat, almost whole, then it got up and left the kitchen to get to work.

“Master Bruce?” I heard a shy voice behind me.

I did not react. What for.
While my body put on its shoes, I heard it again.

“Master Bruce! This is ridiculous! It is just a doll!”

No, it is so much more. So fucking much more.
My shoes were where they were supposed to be and I put on the coat and opened the door.

“Master Bruce!”

I slammed the door shut and moved to the car. Some part of my brain which I had no access to steered the car and got me to take the elevator to my bureau. And only there, I was released from the grip of yearlong routines.
I sat there, blinking, gazing at the window, not even out of it, and a ton of sorrow fell down on me and choked me. My throat felt swollen, but I did not want to cry in my bureau. Instead, I took a small box and spread its contents on the desk to pick the paperclips up and put them back in the box. It was such a meditative work that my mind got totally blank.
However, when I was done, I was no wiser than before. I sighed and rubbed my face, then I turned around with my chair to stare out of the window. My eyes were still sore from crying yesterday so I closed them after a while. And I fell asleep.

A phone call woke me up and I startled. Breathing hard, I looked at the thing which had come to life in front of me without even considering answering. It went silent after a few more attempts to catch my attention, but there was no attention to be caught with me anymore.
I sighed and leaned back again, closing my eyes.
Within a day, my existence had become pointless. To me. Not to many others anyway since they benefitted from my existence, but I had stopped to exist.
I gazed out of the window, my mind handing over control to my soul.

The next days weren't any different. My body got up and to work, then home and to bed. I hoped that I could make Alfred talk by ignoring him completely, but he didn't. He thought that he had to suffer through this to help me and eventually, I'd accept it and carry on.
Days passed with me living in a grey and dense fog and the November coldness did not exactly help me feel better at all. I felt like being robbed of something precious. Not just of the doll but of my love. It was not welcomed, not appreciated. The world tried to make me give it up, but I, alone, completely on my own, tried to continue fighting against those loud voices of reason. Until they would become too loud and I deaf.

One morning, when my body dumbly read the papers, the classified section, to be precise, it froze and jolted my mind awake.
My mind could not believe what my body saw. A picture of my doll. Or part of it. Definitely, it was my doll. I saw his belly button and some green pubic hair. Unmistakably, this was my doll.
Wide-eyed, I looked up at Alfred, but he seemed completely clueless and even a bit happy that I was looking at him for the first time in days again.
Feeling excited, I looked at the photograph again and read what was written under it.

“I have found your doll. In case you want it back, call 043-556-223-11. I’ll wait for 7 days, then I will find out who this belonged to. Cum doesn’t lie.”

I opened my mouth and held my breath.
Impossible.
I was reading a threat of some sort, but it felt like heaven.
Someone had been so amused by the idea of someone keeping a Joker sex doll that he wanted to see who that was. The only plausible explanation for this ad. And he or she would try to find out who it belonged to if no one called. To address that pervert publicly and ruin his life. I knew many people who’d love to see something like that in the yellow press. But that was none of my concern since I’d call that man or woman anyway.
Definitely, it was a trap, one way or another. Even if I revealed myself to the finder I still could have them telling it to the newspapers. I needed to meet that person, by all means, and find out who it was and what they had in mind.

I got up from the table, took the papers along and went to my bureau where I took my phone. I dialled that number and waited. 5 toots and several heart palpitations later, I was still listening to the waiting signal. Maybe it was too early. I hung up and decided to try again in the evening.
For the whole day, I felt so excited that I could barely focus on work. And eventually, I realized that I had called that number from my private phone. I should have called from a public phone booth, but the mistake had happened already.
In the evening, back at my bureau at Wayne Manor, I tried again. 2 toots later, someone answered, but no one spoke. For ten seconds, I listened, then I licked my lips, acknowledging that I would have to reveal myself first. My heart was beating in my chest, but there was no way back.

“Hello?” I said with an assumed voice.

I was good at disguising myself and my voice and I had chosen one between me and the Batman. A bit raspy and higher, but not too high so it wouldn't sound strange. Though, that highness made it sound much more insecure than I actually was right now.

“I found your sex toy.”

I blushed without wanting to. Having someone speaking about him so openly and knowing that he was in the hands of this man made me feel sick. As much as I knew that he was just a doll, a thing, I was worried as for what that man could have done to it. If he had found it and had felt inspired to look for its owner I definitely should have been worried.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked to get this talk going.

A bit of silence and some muffled sounds which I could not make sense of, then a clicking sound and I heard his voice again.

“I'm just curious. I'd simply like to see that man who keeps a Joker fuck toy.”

I clenched my teeth; it felt like an insult.

“Is that so interesting who keeps one? I bet there are hundreds in this town who got one.”

I did not speak to talk myself out of this, but I rather did it to get some more information about that man. I was still trying to identify that voice, but I did not know it. It was an average male voice, though with a certain accent. No way to tell who that might be. Looking for special words or a special way to speak did not tell me anything about the identity either. All I knew was that it was not a lowlife. In fact, he sounded quite average. Maybe a working class man.

“Sure, but how often can you meet someone who's got such a weird fetish? I'm just curious, as I said.”

“Look, I'm an average man who works at the Central Coffee Intelligence on Main Street. I got a wife and two kids and I can't afford having them knowing about this all. Wanna hear the names of my wife and kids? Just send me the doll, will you.”

“In this case, I would like to see the man who works at the Central Coffee Intelligence and who got a wife and two kids and such a weird fetish.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was obvious that I could not put that man off meeting me. His doggedness was worrying me. Apparently, there was more behind this all.

“When and where.”

“The farm lane between Gotham and the fish pond. Take the second lane left and I'll wait there in 800 metres. Tomorrow midnight. No lights for your drive. Use your parking lights. You will understand that it is hard to trust someone who's got a Joker sex toy, won't you?”

I sighed. But I did understand since he was right. I had to agree; otherwise, I'd never see him again or worse, I would see him, but in a context which could lead to adverse consequences.

“Yes, I understand.”

He hung up and I gazed into the darkness with the phone pressed against my ear.
A strange feeling spread in my mind. Of course it was due to the feeling of getting blackmailed and being forced to reveal my identity, but it was more than that. The way of that man worried me. It couldn't be just that he was curious about the owner of this doll. Or it was someone who had too much time in his life and a sadistic streak.
I put the phone down and stared into the darkness, thinking about this some more, but since I did not arrive at any logical deductions after half an hour, I went to bed where I needed another two hours to fall asleep.

I woke up at 5am; only 5 hours of sleep but more than I'd get if I had been out hunting. I got up, took a shower and got dressed, then I had breakfast. I did not greet Alfred since I had not forgiven him yet. My anger was still present, even though it would be gone after midnight. I understood that he had tried to help me by removing this troubling thing, but he had only removed the physical one and not the one in my mind. It wasn't that easy to choke love just by getting rid of the object of love. Though, he tried to start a talk; maybe he was feeling sorry already.

“How are you, Master Bruce?”

“Fucking fine. I beam with joy, can't you see that.”

My dry comment made him go silent again and he turned to his own coffee. But not for long.

“Maybe, if you tried to focus-”

“Just stop it, okay?!” I snapped at him, “I don't need this shit so early in the morning!”

And since there was nothing else left to say, we drank and ate in silence until I got up, took the briefcase and put on my coat. And he just tried another time.

“I'm going to make fish for dinner, is that fine with you?” he said as I put on my shoes.

“Great. The best idea you've ever had,” I said to myself, opened the door and left.

I drove to work with my mind on hateful fire and at work, I tried to keep to myself in my bureau. By the time of lunch, it had dwindled, finally, and I tried to focus on that midnight spectacle. What should I wear, how should I speak? Chances were high that the man would know me once he saw me anyway. Bruce Wayne was in the papers once a week at least. I had to acknowledge that there was no way around disguising myself. True, I could have put on a fake nose and a wig, but somehow, it felt like betraying my man. To display such shame and fear made me cringe. I'd have to face that man with my nose stuck up and my chest out.
I stayed at work till 6pm, trying to stall for time since at home, I'd just be sitting around and waiting for the clock to strike 11pm. Though, before I drove home, I went to a bar close to home and had a drink there.

As I sat there, I glanced at my watch several times since I felt so excited already and did not want to miss the hours going by. I feared that if I did not pay attention, I might have stayed there till midnight, accidentally. Though, it gave me a good feeling to stay out since Alfred would be waiting with dinner already. Usually, I got home at 5pm at the latest and we ate then, but it pleased me to know that he was waiting in vain today.
At 8pm, I left and drove home as slowly and carefully as I could. Indeed, the whole house smelled of fish when I entered. I did not hear him, so I got rid of my coat and shoes and went to the kitchen, thinking that it might have been a good idea to get some food before I'd leave.
Alfred was sitting by the table, a candle in front of him, reading a book. He looked up when I entered, but I looked away. Silently, he got up and reheated the fish.

After a very silent dinner, I went to the living room to spend the next two hours there. I did not plan on telling Alfred about anything; I'd just leave at 11 pm.
And so I did. In plain clothes; jeans, hat and coat. I did not want to show up as the business man I was; I really wasn't in the mood for putting on a show. Just hand it over to me and fine we are.
Though, as I drove to that lane, I got so nervous that I felt sick and feared I might need to stop to throw up dinner.
So many things could happen there. He could be waiting with the Gotham Sun staff to take a picture of me; it was that kind of thing the yellow press fed on with delight. Or there'd be company. They could kidnap me. Beat me up. Me, fodder for gay haters. I saw all sorts of nasty things happening there and my fear became unbearable. I simply could have stayed away from there and ordered another doll, but it had accompanied me for a year by now and I could not give it up just because I was too scared than to save it from a stranger's hands. Our relationship was too personal than to turn my back on it.

I left the street and entered the farm lane. Second right. I kept driving until I arrived at that street, then I stopped and turned off the headlights. Though, I could not continue immediately. I felt so nervous that the half-digested fish was pressing for release, so I got out of the car and leaned against it, trying to rid myself of it and catch some fresh air, but it just wouldn't leave. Resigning myself to it, I got back into the car and turned right. I had to drive very slowly to keep the car on the road since the parking light only let me see the next three metres. In the distance, I saw light and it only served to make me feel worse. Whatever was waiting there for me, there was no escape.

My fear grew as I watched the light getting bigger and more intense until I had to stop the car since the headlights of the other were just too bright to carry on and I had to assume that I was close enough. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. Staring into the light, I tried to see something, but it was impossible so I just waited with my senses on high alert, ready to act if I came to feel something coming my way; a man, a bullet, whatever. I tried to stand tall, but my heart was beating in my throat and my hands were shaking.
I stood there for minutes, silently gazing at the light.
Until it was switched off and the park lights of the car were turned on just like mine. Pitch black darkness unfolded around me and I needed some time to get used to it.

I saw a car and the silhouette of a man. He was standing next to the driver's seat, motionlessly. After another minute, my eyes seemed like having adjusted themselves to the darkness and sparse light and I saw more. A slender man.
Some more.
Purple.

My body swallowed hard and my realization took my breath away. Heat crawled up my spine, scorching heat, until it reached my head. Petrified, I stood there, having the sight of that figure soaking my mind.
No.
I opened my mouth to breathe through it while I felt sick to my stomach. The night turned pitch black again and a bitter taste spread in my mouth. It drained all strength from me.
No.
My knees gave way and I clutched at the open door to keep myself up.
The man watched me in silence. The real one.

I contorted my face and swallowed again, but the turmoil in my mind spread to my body and I bent forward and threw up. I felt so ashamed. In front of him, I puked and desperately tried to keep myself on my legs while they felt like molten butter, so weak. Several times, I tried to suppress another gagging attack since I felt so embarrassed already, but it was impossible. I puked up my guts and spat out several times, then, with gritted teeth and tears in my eyes from the vomiting, I looked up again.
It hurt to look at him, but my eyes were glued to that figure. I felt so many feelings fighting for the upper hand and the most prominent ones were shame and fear.

The man moved. He left his car and slowly walked up to me. With every step he took, my panic grew and my mind retreated.
No.
My world was broken. My existence turned into a parody.
The sight of him took everything from me. I had thought that I could not have lost more than I already had, but now I was reduced to nothing.
Nothing.

My body was wet from sweat and I was panting hard, feeling like being on the verge of passing out from this mental strain. I began to feel lightheaded.
His face came into the radius of the parking lights.
A deathly glare.
I gave a whimper and like a scalded cat, I hurled my body into the driver's seat, changed gears and with tyres which were digging themselves into the pebbly lane, I backed up.
Away.
Just away

After 100 metres, I changed gears again, turned the car around and raced across the lane until I was back on the paved road and only after another 10 minutes of blind driving, I slowed down and stopped the car, finally.
Still, I was breathing so hard and my heart was beating like a drum with 150 bpm. I swallowed a few times, but the feeling of lightheadedness wouldn't fade. Now that I could focus on myself again instead of the street, I felt so sick again that I had the dry heaves. My fingers left the steering wheel and I buried my face in my hands. They got wet with tears.

A catastrophe.
Total catastrophe.
The man I loved, had been craving for so badly and had been too shy than to approach now knew that I had a fuck doll version of him. I clenched my teeth and tried to contain my despair, but it burst through in a loud scream.
I was dead.
The last days, I had been dying and now I was dead.

Behind my closed eyes, I saw him again, that silent figure in the darkness and then his eyes. So serious, threatening, killing.
For the first time, he had not laughed when he had seen me and this was even worse. I felt so devastated that I just wanted to get out of the car and hug the exhaust pipe with my lips to fill my body with fumes and deliver it from its wrecked mind.
After the first bout of despair, my tears dried up a little and I leaned back with closed eyes.

For how long he had been standing there, watching me while the headlights had still been on. What must he have thought. What had he felt when seeing me, realizing that it had been Bruce Wayne or the Batman keeping a fuckable version of him?
I had lost everything.
Everything.

I'm an average man who works at the Coffee Central Intelligence, got a wife and...

My stomach turned at the echo of my words. Lies. I had just gone wrong with everything which could have been fucked up.
I felt such pain when I thought of him again. So badly, I had craved him and still did, but everything was ruined now. My love for him, my feelings for him. I had made an utter fool of myself. For sure, he had the impression now that I was just a sick pervert who got off on abusing the doll version of him.
I decided to stop being Batman. Never again would I leave my home in that dress to hunt criminals. The shame was unbearable.

I spent an hour sitting in the darkness, having thoughts flashing across my mind which got worse and worse until I gave another frustrated yell, hit the steering wheel and started the engine. It was no use spending the night out there in the cold and I badly needed some familiarity now.
When I got home, Alfred greeted me and my cheeks turned red again. He furrowed his brow and took a few steps closer, examining my face, but I felt so embarrassed that tears were in my eyes again and I looked away.

“Alfred,” I said with a tearful voice, “Not now.”

“What's happened, Master Bruce?” he asked.

The concern in his voice made me feel a little better for a second, but only for a second.

“Don't ask,” I said with a weepy voice and started running towards the sleeping room, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Yet again, I slammed the door shut and threw myself on the bed where I burst into shameless sobbing.
How should I carry on. How should I ever look into anyone's eyes when my mind would scream at me with his voice that I was a sick pervert, ridiculous, pathetic. He'd imagine me abusing that doll, every hole, in every way possible. When it was just my love doll.
I got under the blanket and curled up there, pressing my head against the mattress.
The world was done with me. Finally.

The night took no end. After an eternity, the sun began to rise and I got up and drew the curtains in, then I got back and hid under the blanket again.
Some hours later, the door was opened and I heard his footsteps. My mind had fallen into numbness and I felt detached from the world, like I wasn't part of it any longer. Nothing of this was related to me anymore; not my job, not my house, not my feelings. Nothing. It was much easier this way to keep existing, for the sole purpose of existing anyway. I was too much of a coward than to kill myself.
The mattress moved as he sat down and shortly after that, I felt his hand on my shoulder, through the blanket.

“Have you met him?” I heard it muffled through a thick layer of feathers.

I clenched my teeth and curled up some more. I couldn't speak. My throat was sore and swollen from crying, holding back and crying again and I had no strength left to move my vocal chords anymore either. His hand stayed on my shoulder. For five minutes, I stood this awkward silence, then I moved, pushed the blanket away and sat up. My eyes were so swollen that I only saw him through slits, but I didn't care anymore. He furrowed his brow and kept looking at me until he couldn't keep silent anymore.

“Is there any way I can help you?”

“No,” I said sourly, like a sulking child.

“I'll make you some hot chocolate,” he said and got up.

With a look which should have killed him, I followed his back until he disappeared. As if hot chocolate could help. I spent the time gazing into space until he returned with two cups and again, he sat down and offered one to me. I took it for fuck's sake and drank, but it was too hot and I burnt my tongue.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed and clenched my teeth, trying to keep myself from slamming the cup against the wall.

Feeling quite helpless, he looked away and sipped his chocolate. He made me furious.

“Why did you do this?!” I yelled at him and spilled some choco on the blanket.

“I thought I could help you,” he said while staring at the wall.

“Next time you think you can help me, fucking ASK me before you try to, okay?! You just FUCKED UP!!! I've lost just EVERYTHING!!!”

He turned his head and peered at me. I hoped he was regretting his glorious idea by now. And though, he was still as courageous as to speak.

“Master Bruce, what's happened.”

“What's happened?! I've just escaped a public shaming attack! And worse than that!”

“Worse?”

“Fuck, just stop talking, okay?!” I yelled at him at the top of my lungs.

“A public shaming attack?”

“Apparently, you've chosen a super-great place for dumping the doll! So fucking great that the-”

I stopped and bit down on my lip. I was about to yellxplain that the Joker had found it, but I did not want him to know about that at all so I just glared daggers at him, punishing him with silence. He lowered his head and gazed at the chocolate, licking his lips.

“I've just tried to help. I'm sorry I made things worse.”

“Yeah yeah, a fat lot of use that is to me, thanks.”

He sighed and got up. Again, I watched him leaving.
My anger had taken over again, but admitted, it felt much better than my sorrow.

___

Chapter Text

I am confused.
Still. Even though I sit here in this room which I know by now, I am highly confused. I saw it all happening and it almost drove me out of my mind, it was overwhelming.

The feelings of this other man colliding with the familiar ones of my man. This intense fear. This shame. This shock. It had felt like my skin had dissolved and all those conflicting feelings of these two men had crashed into me.
So long, they had been staring at each other, exchanging their thoughts and feelings until my man had given in and left. Without taking me with him, but I can't be angry at him. All his fears have come true. No, worse. His fears and things he never would have thought of. How exposed he had felt, how vulnerable. I had felt him dying with shame and it had been painful to watch him throwing up in front of him. Of course I would have done the same, had I been in his position.
My poor man. I could cry, so sorry do I feel for him that things have come this way. And all that because of the hands of someone who wouldn't understand us.

When I look at that man in front of me, I try to keep my poker face.
He is so different from when he found me, like he’s turned into another man. While I saw him grinning all the time, laughing, looking at me and laughing again, his laughter has faded and I only hear insecurity in his voice when he turns to mumbling to himself. He almost seems shell-shocked. Like all courage, self-confidence and joy has left his mind.
Such shy eyes. Nervously, they move, fear-driven, angst-ridden. My presence makes him feel awkward and though, he doesn't put me in a drawer. It's the same, exactly the same as with my man; torn between longing and shame. If he knew what this man was feeling.
He takes a deep breath and I hear tension in his breathing. It's too much for him. I would not have believed that I am the plastic version of a man with such intense feelings too. I loved to think that I am just some average bad guy, assuming from my man's speeches about terror and death caused by me, but this man doesn't look like someone who is capable of such things. He's got such a deep soul and mind, I can't believe that he should terrorize anyone. Just like him, he is so sweet in his shy love.

Somehow, I am glad that things had happened this way. I have been dumped, found by the secret love of my man and they have met – because of me. I feel so proud. I am the link between them; without me, they never would have met in this way, I am sure. As horrible as that man now feels, I am confident that things will work out in the end, because I have a feeling. A feeling that the jury is still out. It's all up in the air. Right, the air has gotten stuffier, but still, it's there.
My pride makes me suck in some more air and he furrows his brow.

“Have you just...what the...”

I freeze.
Never, my man has noticed anything of the like, not even my holes getting tighter, so I assume. But I can’t blame him; he thinks me a dead object and in most ways, I am, but not in all ways. However, this one seems like having noticed. Just millimetres moving, but he saw it. I am amazed. Or maybe he didn’t see but rather felt it. Whatever it is, I need to be careful with this one so I don’t give my secret away. So I stay silent and frozen and he leans back and relaxes, rubbing his eyes.

“Fuck I need some sleep,” I hear him reasoning himself out of having seen me moving.

His hand rests on his eyes and I can look at him now without getting caught. Sometimes, I’m a bit on the nasty side and being presented with the chance to eye the love of my man up just makes me indulge in it. My eyes sink down and I look at his crotch. Will that be enough for him? It doesn’t look very promising. But after all, the crotch of my man doesn’t look very promising either when he’s limp. I wonder whether he’s got one of his testicles hanging a little lower too.
He sucks in the air and I freeze again. He can’t keep his eyes off me for long, especially now since he knows the truth about my origin.

Cautiously, with his eyes glued to my face, he gets up and walks closer. His look is sceptical. He opens his mouth and takes a deep breath; again, it shakes with agitation. He blinks and lifts a hand. So white. Such long fingers. So careful. So beautiful. I can see why he has fallen for him.
Shaking fingers touch my rubber lips. He bends his head and peers at my mouth, then he touches the inside of it. Carefully, gently. It's like he is feeling for him. I smile, enjoy his touch and suck in some air to pump myself up, carefully so he doesn’t notice again; I have lost some air while I had been lying in that building and in that room. I want to be as desirable as possible for him. But it's funny, we have switched places. It is me now who represents my lover and that man sees him when he looks at me.

He licks his lips and explores my mouth. I feel a strange mix of feelings. However, none which are unknown to me.
He blinks, swallows and draws back. His eyes scan my face and chest. For a long time, he gazes at me. Considering.
Then he's made his choice. He looks down and licking his lips again, he gets out of his pants. I glance at his dick and come to appreciate what I see. More promising. I grin. No one can resist me. Because I am what you want, long for, desire. I may have a painted face which is unchangeable, but in your mind, it is changeable. I can be whatever you want me to be.

He bites down on his lip as he grips his dick, then he shyly looks up. It's alright. I don't judge you. I never do. Go ahead, I will be your knight. Even if we share the same look, you know who I am.
He snorts and looks away. This man is worse than mine. But he cannot bear with my presence for long and he looks at me again. After a minute of staring at me, he takes me and puts me on the couch, then he climbs it too and sits down on my crotch.
I knew you wouldn't fuck my mouth the first time we meet.

He looks down, right into my pussy hole. I let it look tight.
Again, he looks at my face and back at my hole, then he clenches his teeth, squints his eyes shut and hurries to get up.
The door falls shut behind him.
I sigh and relax again. Such poor souls. One longing for the other and both unable to talk about it. Somehow, I wonder whether I'll ever get back to my man. I'd wish to be left on this couch and having both of them meeting instead, but I see that there's a long way to go for both of them, still.

I listen for some sounds, but I don’t hear anything.
For a long time, I don’t hear anything. Hours. I try to get some sleep after that adventure.
The sun sets. Bright light wakes me up and I look for him, but still he isn’t there. I wonder when he will come back; when his desire will gain the upper hand because definitely, I have glimpsed it yesterday.
Now I hear some sounds. He is cooking. Somehow, I have the impression he is ignoring me on purpose. It is not his lacking interest, but rather some kind of punishment. I don't know him as well as I know my man yet, but what I know is that he resembles him when it comes to love. However, some of his sides are new to me. It would have been foolish to assume that every man is the same just because I know one of them, but his personality is very different in some respects.

I feel that he is troubled too. Not in the same way as my man, though. So often, I feel his pride choking him, these conflicting feelings, the longing, the fear. If you put the two of them in a jar and put the lid on it they’d probably be at each other’s dick within a minute, but like this, with all this freedom they have, and as a consequence, so many chances to do or say something wrong, they are afraid of facing each other. But again, I should not complain since I have gotten things going. I have the feeling that soon, they will meet again.
However, his absence for the entire day worries me. I wonder if I have done something wrong.

Only in the evening, the door is opened again and I see sad eyes. Sad and tired eyes. He can’t go on anymore. I know this look.
And once again, I wished I were able to comfort him the way he needs it, but I can just be there, now, for him, and listen to his mourning.
He puts two cups on the table, makes me sit and sits down too, then he takes a cup and drinks.
Is that other one for me? You are so sweet.
He swallows and licks his lips while gazing at the wall in front of him. For a long time, it is silent. I feel that he is preparing himself for talking to me; I know this silence. It is the same kind of silence which clothes my man when he tries to prepare himself for talking to me; when he needs to sort out his feelings first and label them in order to voice them. It’s like they are looking for the right way to start.

“I was so shocked when I saw you,” he starts off whispering.

He doesn’t dare to speak louder, although there are only me and him in his flat. I hear the fear in his voice. At least, he is being honest.

“You can't imagine what I felt when I saw you. You. I'd have expected anyone but you.”

He lifts his cup to drink, but he stops and puts it down again. His hand is shaking.
Shyly, he peers at me and his hand sneaks up to me to rest on my thigh. He wants to say so much and only a handful of that comes out of his mouth. But I can hear his thoughts, they show in his eyes. They move, restlessly; he is nervous and excited.

“You threw up and I had to try hard to not do the same,” he whispers, “I was so nervous. But I guess you were even more nervous than I.”

He gives a short laugh, then his face turns back to insecurity.

“I wouldn't have expected anything of the like. Never.”

He stares hard at me. I see you want to say something, I see it in your eyes. But you are even more tight-lipped than my man.
He closes his eyes, takes his cup and drinks again, then he puts it down, takes the other cup and moves it to my lips. He waits for a few seconds and puts it down again. His fingers tightly cling to my thigh.
He reaches for his neck and rubs it, then he sighs. And his eyes search for me once more. Sceptical eyes again. But there is more in them now than before. A whiff of mischief. It grows as I watch his pupils getting bigger. Until he contorts his face for a second and I glimpse a smirk on the way of being born.

Finally.
He blushes and clenches his teeth, I know exactly what he’s thinking.
His fingers tightly cling to my thigh. He darts my crotch a quick glance, then he looks at my eyes again. Calmly, but threateningly. I wonder for how long I will need to stand this piercing glare before he pulls his pants down and shoves it in. But he is still debating on whether he can afford to do this. It will change his life once again, but after all, it will only be a logical consequence of what has happened.
So try me, you shy clown. Tell me a hard joke and make me groan.

Slowly, a grin spreads on his lips.
Silently, he gets up and lifts me up too. We leave the room and I get to see his sleeping room. Black walls, for a change.
He puts me on the bed, takes off his shirt and lies down, covers us with the blanket and snuggles up to me.
Was it that hard? I am made for this, don’t you realize?

“I wonder how you happened to get there. But he's weird, sometimes,” he mumbles and presses his head against mine.

Then he laughs.

“You know, I'm happy he didn't take you with him. Funny, eh? You're mine now,” he says and puts his leg on top of mine. I’d like to object since I am used to living with my man, but what does it matter. I can’t speak for myself.

“Ya sexy thing. How often has he cummed you? But excuse me, you are really fuckable.”

Looks like he's talking to himself. And he speaking of weird.
Something comes to life between his legs.

“What's his favourite hole, I wonder? Must be my mouth, I guess. Mhm.”

He rubs his leg against mine and presses his hard-on into my soft body.

“Turn around, Bruce,” he says and turns me around so I face him.

And it is like only now, I see him smiling for the first time. No mischief in his eyes, no threat, no derisive mockery, just a pure smile as he is moved by love.
So beautiful. This worried face, all these wrinkles don't suit him. He looks best when he smiles.
His hands disappear under the blanket to finger my pussy hole.

“Ah right, just tight enough,” he says and grips his dick.

As I said, irresistible. His hands brush over my skin and he lifts his head to deal me a scrutinizing look.

“As sexy as you are, my dear, but you are not the right one for now, as much as I'd enjoy a fuck with myself. Gotta work on that,” he huffs and leaves the bed to return with a shirt and brown bag.

He leaves again and returns with a pen, then he pulls the bag over my head. He needs to squeeze my head into it, but it works out. It smells like bread inside. Just when I wonder what he is up to, he removes the bag, puts it on the bed and starts drawing on it. I see eyes, a nose, a mouth and hair. He adds a rectangular chin to it with dimples at each side and I begin to understand what he is up to. Constantly, he has been switching between seeing me as my man and as him, but now he goes one step further.

He looks at his work and grins, then he adds a few drops of sweat to the forehead. Secretly pursing my lips, I look at his piece of art. The mouth of my new face is open, just like mine. He has attempted to give it an O-face, but his artistic skills make me chuckle. It rather looks like I'm in pain instead of screaming with pleasure. But who knows, maybe he didn't attempt to give me an O-face at all but exactly this expression. I can't tell.
Anyway, it is strange how my personality has changed since he has been keeping me; it's like his presence affects my mind. He is much more playful and bold. Shy too, but most of the time with a secret twinkle in his eye.
He looks at me, sends a kiss towards me and then squeezes my head back into the bag.

“Oh goodie good!”

I am blindfolded now. My man has never done anything of the like with me and it is a strange feeling. I feel a little insecure in the presence of this man. He has such a threatening vibe and I feel it double as much now that I am left with my intuition only.
Please treat me gently, I beg you.
I freeze when I feel something on my arms; he dresses me up in a shirt. He moves my arms behind my back and something cold makes me hold my breath; I feel it around my wrists. I can't move them anymore.

“Oh yes.”

He pulls me closer again and covers us with the blanket, then he takes my legs between his like before. His hard-on hasn't suffered from his artistic field trip at all.
A hand brushes over my face, so gently; I can feel it through the fabric. I close my eyes since I can't use them anyway and concentrate on his touch.
How would you feel if that was being done to you, Bruce? I will be you for tonight. I will enjoy it for you. I see your face in front of mine and I concentrate on your mind. For a year, I have been getting to know you and I am convinced that I could be you for tonight.

Bruce Wayne. Suit man, business man. Secret homosexual, ashamed of his desires. Loving a man who is his enemy. Too shy to tell him. Hopelessly in love with him.
This is your first time. Your first sexual experience with this man. You are blindfolded and cuffed, lying in bed with your secret love.
I feel my skin getting tight; apparently, I have sucked in some air to pump myself up in my arousal.

A gasp escapes me in my mind as I feel his hands brushing over my chest again; one hand sneaks under the shirt to caress my nipple. I squirm, but he holds me down and forces me to bear with his touch. My cheeks catch fire. I feel scared; I don't know what he is going to do. Somehow, I enjoy this uncertainty; it is so exciting. I know that I am going to have sex with this man. So often, I have dreamed of this, longed for his touch, for smelling him, kissing him, having him coming in me. The dreaded uncertainty turns into a thrill and I am curious how he will proceed.

A hand is stuck between my thighs and rubs my opening. He has wetted his fingers with spittle and I moan at that thought. He is claiming me. However, after a few more rubs, he leaves this hole and reaches down some more and I feel his fingers searching for my back hole. You don't mind being a homosexual, do you. I feel so much better. It eases my mind and lets me accept my own homosexuality more easily. You don't make a fuss, you just do it. You are helping me greatly.

Teasingly, he sticks a finger into my butt hole and presses against the upper wall. I jerk; it is so pleasing. Never, I have been able to enjoy this so much. It is so liberating to just be myself. I love this man.
He pushes his whole hand into the hole and spreads his fingers. Dear, I feel so full, such a pleasant feeling. He moves his hand around there, then he clenches a fist, pulls it out and thrusts it back in. You shameless man. Several times, he fists me while he rubs his dick against my front. His hot breath is soaking the bag and it feels moist under it. I can hear his pants; they are so arousing. He pauses with his fisting and presses his face against mine.

“Fuck, Bruce,” he breathes against my mouth, “You're so hot. Such a tight ass, but I'm the first one to stem that rose, ain't I,” he whispers and I hear the grin in his words.

His dark and lustful voice makes me shiver. Only one thought is left in my brain. I need him inside me. I need that man to enter me and connect with me. I feel that he is holding back, trying to stretch this moment and I try to go with it too, but I become impatient. So close and so far away. Please, just shove your hard dick up my ass.

“You want that, Bruce?” he asks me like he is able to listen to my thoughts.

“Yeah, you want it,” he confirms my silent plea and once again pounds the back of my ass with his fist.

“Feels so good, doesn't it,” he rasps while he grips his dick and starts stroking it.

I come to feel jealous. I don't want that thing in your hand, I want that iron bar in my ass.

“What, you want that inside?” he says and chuckles, “Oh Bruce, whatever you wish, it's my command. Look how hard you get me, you shy thing,” he says and rocks his hips to bump into me with that solid bar. As he stabs my belly with it, I gasp; it's like a punch to the gut, just that my guts are one single huge prostate.

“Ahaaa,” he rasps, “No need to blush. I'm all yours, always have been, my shy knight,” he says and fucks my belly once again.

I feel pre-cum wetting my skin. In my mind, I am panting; I'd like to touch you so badly, but you have cuffed me. I go mad with need; my hole tightens on its own.

“Yehes,” he hisses with a grin, “I'm gonna tease you into madness and then,” he says and rocks his hips again and this time, his dick hits home and I scream with pleasure, “I'm gonna fuck you.”

His voice makes the air inside me shake and I feel so bloated again.

“Aaaaah”

His moan sends a shiver down my back. He has pulled his dick out again. Luckily enough, there was enough pre-cum on it so he didn't hurt himself. But somehow, I doubt that he has thought of that at all.
His fingers explore my pussy hole again and he giggles as he feels his own cum in there. I suck in more air and hum with pleasure. Repeatedly, he pushes it in and draws back while I hear him masturbating to that. He is panting hard.

“Fuck, turn around you naughty pussy, I can't go on anymore,” he hisses suddenly and swiftly turns my body around so he faces my back.

Instantly, his dick stabs my back and he says: “Just shut up and let me fuck you, Bats.”

His harsh and obscene words heat me up. I'm burning with need and I want your dick in my ass.
He grips it and aims, but he stops.

“Fuckdarn,” he curses and leaves my body.

I hear him opening a drawer and closing it again and a few moments later, I feel the blanket being lifted. Coldness spreads in my hole as he lubes it up. I swallow hard, I'm so excited at what is going to happen.
Again, he grips his dick and without much ado, he shoves it in. No stretching, no teasing, just plain dick shoved up my ass, the way I like it. I squirm with pleasure and pant and our sounds mingle. He is so aroused that his pants fill up the room. Inside, I feel as hot as an oven which is baking a cake. Cream pie.

He grips my shoulder and hip to keep me in place, then he draws back and shoves it back in. The groan which accompanies that act makes my plastic blood boil. My skin is so hot that it is melting under his touch. Burn me with your passion, melt me with your love.
He fucks me hard and moans every time he pushes it in. It is so slick inside and smoothly, his dick slides in and out. My vision goes black, I lose myself in his love. My mind wanders out of that room, towards my home. I touch him gently and invade his dreams. I must use all of my strength to reach him; it is hard to enter his mind, but I manage, finally.

Kilometres away, in his bed, soundly asleep, a man has a wet dream. He is dreaming of himself being blindfolded, cuffed and getting penetrated by the Joker for the first time in his life. It feels so good. One of his best wet dreams. He hears himself moaning and he jerks hard, being so close to orgasm. “Fuck me hard!” he yells in his sleep and once again feels that hard-on spreading his ass. He grins and groans, then he tenses up. Cum spurts from his dick, impossible in reality, but possible in his dreams. Litres of cum, so desperately has he been longing for this.

When he wakes up, he remembers everything; his mind needs him to remember.
Confusion overwhelms him and he reaches down and gets some semen on his fingers. Looking at it makes it feel real since he doubts that this really has happened, but it has.
He swallows hard and blinks several times.
His body was aching for that man; it wasn’t just his soul anymore. His body knew what it wanted, but his soul was screaming with fear at the thought of giving the body what it asked for. Just to imagine these white fingers touching his body makes him curl up with shame. Why is that so hard for him to. He could not even think of touching him, it made his cheeks catch fire.

He tried to forget this dream, but his dick got hard again just after this splendid orgasm. His body was calling for him. He’d need to face up to fate and approach him. One way or another. It had to be.
Sighing, he lay down again and with his eyes open, he stared at the ceiling. Fear threatened to choke him again and he turned on his side and his leg came to rub against the wet spot on the blanket. He could not carry on anymore. He simply couldn’t.

___

Chapter Text

After a week of indulging in self-pity and introvertedness, I couldn't stand lying in bed awake for hours anymore and decided to go out as the Batman again. It wasn't so much because I felt the need to fight crime, but rather because my thoughts began to circle around him as soon as I entered Wayne Manor. I barely spoke to Alfred anymore either since I still was angry at him for having destroyed just everything. True, I had been in a deadlock and I never would have told that man what I really felt for him, but being forced to reveal myself and worse, in the way it had just happened, did not seem like a way out of this deadlock either. I had just gotten stuck once again.

As I got dressed, I already felt a little better. Tending to work had helped me the last few days and I considered that work too. Tomorrow, I'd wake up tired and I'd spend the day fighting this tiredness which would distract my attention as well.
I returned to a nightly Gotham which had changed while I had not been out. The dynamics of that city could turn into the contrary within a day and after a week of ignoring them, I had to catch up on them. First, I checked my resources and found out that some gangs had fought for the upper hand yet again; another new very creative criminal with the nickname “Breadboy” and some other minor attacks. Organized crimes, bigger than some robberies, but quite the usual stuff. I started off with tending to those crimes and got to arrest two string-pullers, then I returned home. And fell asleep instantly.

The next night, I went out again since it had been balm to my soul. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, observing criminals and successfully arresting them felt like the thing which could fill the cracks in my soul. A little, at least, since I could not rid myself of this feeling of pointlessness. I tried to ignore it and tell myself that I was serving Gotham, no matter what happened in my private life, and that the good people of Gotham deserved some protection from people like the one I loved.
I had to admit that while I was out, I had been feeling anxious about turning around the corner and seeing him. The night was his working time as well and as big as Gotham was, sometimes, it could be so small. But I did not see him the first and second night at all. Definitely, he must have heard about the Batman being on his hunts again and I was sure that he would not hold back for long either and continue with his work. One night, sooner or later, we were bound to meet again. And I dreaded it.

Three nights later, I was just dealing with a crowd of thugs clearing a truck load with drugs. Heavens knew where they got their stuff from, but I didn't want it to enter Gotham. Hard stuff which wouldn't do anyone any good. Ten of them and me in the middle, just a good old fight the way I needed it. I'd have wished for 20 to work off my tension, but after ten minutes of kicking and punching and dodging, I was fine with ten of them too. 15 minutes later, they were all safely stored on the floor with cable tie around their wrists and I called the police. I planned to wait for them to arrive and recover a little meanwhile. One of them had managed to stab me in the back and I had suffered some other minor injuries. They weren't minor at all for an average man, but for me, they were. Several cuts, a bruised rib, a pulled muscle and stomach pain. The toll for skipping night hunts for a week.

Ten minutes later, the police arrived and took them with them. I explained some things to them and they took the truck with them too.
Proudly, with arms akimbo, I watched them driving off. It felt like I had done a good thing yet again.
Footsteps behind me, a kind of sound I knew so well, made me startle. Only one pair of shoes could produce that sound in Gotham. I froze and clenched my teeth. Every, just every sense in my body told me that it was him. And the truck had only been a trap.
Instantly, my knees turned weak and I broke a sweat. Petrified, frozen like a statue of stone, I stood there and listened for the echo of his footsteps; he had come to a halt. My heart was pounding so hard that I heard a ringing in my ears; I had dreaded this moment so much.

For a few seconds, it was silent and I came to appreciate him giving me the choice to run away or turn around. My body wanted to run. Adrenaline was peaking in my body and preparing it for an escape.
Or a fight.
I cursed in my mind since once again, I had fallen the victim to fate. I already heard his loud laughter and saw his gleeful grin. No, you won't.
I turned around and started running towards him with a death glare. He was so surprised that he stared at me wide-eyed and I seized his surprise to punch his guts, then I gave him a blow to the jaw and he staggered. Not for one single second, you will open your mouth to mock me.

As I tried to punch his face, he dodged me and I saw his knife in his right hand. The fire was back in his eyes and we started the 645th round. As we fought, I felt life returning to me and I fought him as passionately as always. When our bodies met in this violent way, I was in heaven. He suffered several punches and kicks, but so did I, but the pain fueled my passion. It was only a good fight if it hurt. Vigorously, I opposed him, enjoying every single punch I could deal him. The knife was still in his hand as I had not managed to disarm him and finally, that took its toll. A stab in my stomach and I groaned and bent over. But he didn't pull it out. For a few moments, it was silent except for our panting and no one moved. His hand was resting around the handle of the knife. It was like he enjoyed being inside me.

I gasped again when another wave of pain made my body tense up, but I managed to use that pain for my next attack. Violently, I hit his hand so he let go of the knife, then I punched his nose and his head collided with the wall behind him. I seized that moment and rammed my knee into his guts and to finish him off, I gifted him with another punch to his jaw. And finally, he went down. Breathing hard, I pulled the knife out of my body and dropped it on the floor, then I pressed my hand against the wound to keep the blood from flowing. Several times, I had hit his arms, kicked him, punched him and finally, he was too weak than to get up again. Half of his face was hidden as he was lying on the floor, his eye gazing at my boot. His face was blood-smeared since I had ripped his lip and maybe broken his nose.

As I kept looking at him, I felt my anger surfacing again. My body was still pumped up with adrenaline and all that sorrow from months solidified. I growled with anger and kicked his guts once more, then I turned to kissing him with my boot. Why does it have to be you. It feels so good to beat you, make you suffer my anger and punish you for the feelings you make me feel.
He curled up and I kept kicking his arms until my anger dwindled a little. Gritting my teeth, I stared at him and watched the small puddle of blood growing. Yes, bleed for me.
It was so pleasing to look at the mess I had caused. His eye was so swollen that I didn't see much of it anymore, his body twitching and trembling from pain, his long white fingers clutching at his stomach. Too weak to laugh, too weak to mock me, too weak to say anything.

If you came here thinking that you could hurt me with your presence you were wrong. I won't puss out and bear with your laughter.
As I stared at him, I came to blame him for all which had happened. My feelings, the shame, the dishonour. It was like he had opened my body with his knife and exposed my heart. He had seen things which he never should have seen. I felt so vulnerable that my anger surfaced again and I kicked his head once more.
But I shouldn't have. My kick revealed his full face to me and I saw the result of our fight.
So much blood. He coughed and I saw more flowing from his mouth.
I had to close my eyes for a moment, feeling something going down in my body which was troubling me greatly.

I swallowed involuntarily and clenched my teeth. Now that he didn't pose a threat to me anymore, I felt my behated feelings returning. Nervously, my eyes scanned his body and I glanced at his crotch. Quickly, I closed my eyes again and felt my own crotch attempting to resemble his. But the crotch protection kept it from that.
This wasn't what I had wanted it to end like. The more time I spent in his presence, the more my feelings developed a life of their own and I found myself keeping myself from kneeling down and looking at him. It got so bad that I turned around and ran. No Arkham this time. I couldn't see myself having him sitting next to me in my car at all, not even if I gagged him.
After having turned around the corner, I slowed down and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Things had happened so quickly that I had not caught up with the events yet and only now, I came to think of what had happened and especially how it had started.

Actually, he had just been looking at me. No laughter. Had I not attacked him he might not have fought me at all.
I sighed and leaned my head against the wall. I had allowed my feelings to take over control and my feelings had been fear and vulnerability. Had he talked I didn't think I'd have been able to bear with it. It had been much easier to keep him silent and just fight another time. Maybe he'd have told me that he felt the same. After all, he had not been laughing when he had seen me, the way I had expected him to act, actually.

I looked up and realized that I had made a mistake. I should have let him talk, at least. This way, things were still the same and I wasn't any wiser than before. I had only postponed that talk we needed to have. My fears had overwhelmed me and I had just done what I was familiar with. Again, I groaned with discomfort; I should apologize, even. Toying with the thought of getting back to him, I licked my lips and looked into the direction where he was lying, still, hopefully. I snorted and looked down. Now that I was considering returning, the wall of shame got cracks and vivid images sept through it. Every tendon in my body was screaming for returning to him. I saw all that happening which I had done with my doll and it drove me mad. Even thinking of that man naked, so close, within reach, was pure hell for me.

I swallowed again and furrowed my brow, trying to keep myself from bursting into tears. I felt so desperate. Forcing my body to return to my car was impossible right now since his body and mind were pulling at me, keeping me tied to that place. I bit down on my lower lip and checked on the facts. What would happen next time we'd meet? Would I need to beat the living daylights out of him again just to silence him and not be forced to hear him laughing? That was pointless. Better solve that now than live through this hell another time.
Once again, I saw his face as he had come walking towards me in the night on that farm lane. Such a wild glare. No laughing.

I swallowed again and turned around to walk back and the further I got, the more did I speed up until I was running and once turned around the corner, I saw him again, still lying on the floor in the same pose. Apparently, I had hurt him enough to keep him on the floor.
I sucked in the air, feeling my passion overwhelming me. My throat was so swollen that no words would come out of it so I'd need to do it with my body. He was defenceless; he wouldn't laugh. And I'd be gentle and try to find out what he was feeling. Because it didn't matter anyway; he knew that I had a Joker love doll and again, it was obvious what I had been doing with it. He knew about my needs and feelings and if I kissed him now it wouldn't make anything worse.
I approached him, knelt down and gripped a fistful of hair to lift his head; for now going with a little violence to keep in character and see how he would react. As I did so and his body was moved, he gasped and twisted his mouth, but he didn't say anything.
So beautiful.

One eye barely glared at me, the other was covered by its swollen lid. He dragged his hand across the ground and tried to lift it, but he was too weak and it fell down again.
No threat.
Wide-eyed, I gazed at him and bit my lip again. Never had I been closer to the man I desired. Never had I had a better chance to be gentle with him.
To hell with it. The cards were on the table and I was just torturing myself by wishing for it all to return to that state before I had opened an empty drawer. But that was impossible.
To fucking hell with it.

I closed my eyes, bent my head and cautiously pressed my lips against his. He jerked slightly and I adjusted my lips to his, then I took them between mine and kissed him gently. The blood tasted like pure love. I did not dare to open my eyes so I tried to imagine what he was looking like while I tenderly played with his lips, anxiously trying to feel just the slightest bit of resistance, but there was nothing to be felt as for that. It only felt good. To be so close, to connect our bodies and share them, to get to know his and use it.
His lack of response worried me a little though since either he was ridden by disgust but just too weak than to fight me or I had damaged his body more than I had intended to. Carefully, I took his upper lip between mine and sucked it, but since he still didn't struggle or fight it, I opened my eyes a little though and found out that he had closed his as well. That sight lifted a ton from my heart. All my worries left me and I smiled. No words needed. I felt so encouraged by his acceptance that my lips twitched with happiness and I covered his with mine again, seizing that moment to get some more of it.

And he kissed back. Shyly, at first, and I turned gentler again to encourage him. It was a marvellous feeling to have him responding in that way since I knew now that we shared the same feelings. I lost track of where I was and what had just happened and came to live in that one single moment of being able to express my feelings and having them being reciprocated.
I wound my arm around his back to be able to let go of his hair and hold him in a way which would be more comfortable for him too. He adjusted himself to that new position and I kissed him once again, then I drew back and nudged his nose with mine. I smiled and opened my eyes a little to see him.
His eye was open.

Attentive, scrutinizing, analyzing. So intense.
Suddenly, that pleasant closeness turned into an awful threat as I saw his expression and I drew back some more. Clenching my teeth with fear, I gazed at him. His mouth was still open, the way I had left it. Blood was trickling from his nose again after I had touched it with mine and it just reached his lips again. I saw so many things in his eye. And I couldn't handle it.
I felt so afraid that I dropped him and hurried to get up and run again. His taste was still on my lips as I rushed through the night and the more distance I got between us, the worse became my fears.
What had I done.

I had to stop running since my trouble was limiting my sight and judgement and I didn't know where I was, currently. The street in which I had come to a halt now didn't look familiar to me and I had no clue as for where I was. To make it all worse, someone was just entering this street and I did not want him to see me, so I started running again and stopped in another empty street. I felt so afraid and so vulnerable. The dark buildings around me were looking down on me, gazing at me with big black eyes. He came to my mind again; I saw him smiling with those blood-smeared lips and touching his crotch.

I had done something so obscene that I felt sick again. These quick changes of feelings were wearing me down; I wished I could just stay in my love without those fears and doubts, but whenever I got to see him in person, my heart sank to my boots. True, it was because I felt so insecure about myself and any other man would have just approached him, kissed him and groped his crotch, but I was afraid of what I would kick off with something like that. I was afraid of life taking its course. Desperately, I struggled against it while my surroundings were kicking and beating me into some direction which I just refused to take. Once again, I found myself in this hopeless position of having moved myself away from him and yearning for him though.
I needed my bed, badly. With a shaking hand, I took the phone from my pocket and called Alfred.

“Master Bruce?” I heard a sleepy voice.

“Alfred, can you track me down? I have no idea where I am, please. Hurry.”

“Of course, give me a minute,” he said and I heard some sounds.

Footsteps. I sighed, knowing that he'd need to get to the batcave and switch on the computer.
Anxiously, I peered at the street, hoping that I wouldn't need to face another stranger. In my nervousness, I started walking without realizing. I needed to see what was behind that corner since it felt like a threat waiting there. But the street was empty. Sighing with relief, I kept walking, went down that street and turned left.
And there I saw him again, lying on the floor.
My stomach turned and I froze. In my blind panic, I had ran around in a circuit.

He looked like a corpse on the floor; his body exactly the way I had left it. Well, almost.
With terror, I saw his hand in his pants. Too weak to get up, but not weak enough to jerk off. He had faked his weakness to see what I'd be doing.
My thoughts were racing, my breath came in fits and my head moved on its own; I felt so troubled that I had no control over my body anymore.
I felt his eye on me. Fire and darkness. Pure threat.

“Master Bruce?” I heard it coming from the phone and startled.

I blinked and opened my mouth to breathe through it; my body and mind were at its limits.

“Master Bruce!”

Afraid that he'd hear it, I pressed the phone against my ear and started walking backwards.

“Yes,” I breathed into the phone.

“You are Desmond Street, 7th district. Your car is in Sgt. Venice Drive. Turn around, then-”

“I know where I am,” I breathed back.

“Okay.”

I put the phone back into my pocket and started running once again. How cruel fate was being with me; I simply could not believe it. It was like he was pulling at me, manoeuvring my body through time and space, luring me back to him, over and over again.
When I sat in my car, finally, I took a deep breath. Sitting there with the windows tinted and the doors locked, I came to feel a little better, or safer, at least. When I had regained enough control to think myself able to drive, I started the engine and headed for home.
This night had been one single disaster.

Back at home, Alfred asked me what had happened, but I did not say anything and just went to take a shower. I showered for half an hour, then I tended to the wounds, quite absent-mindedly and it was not my best work since they kept leaking blood, but just a little. Finally, I went to bed and hid under the blanket.
Just why.
I closed my eyes and saw him lying in front of me. Red lips, attentive green eyes, his white skin contrasting so beautifully with the dark sheets. He moved his head and grinned at me. Though, it was not a derisive grin but an inviting one. I was safe here and could indulge in that sort of thing, so I told myself.

Swallowing hard with shame, I reached for my dick and fondled it to the look of his. He closed his eyes, turned on his back and lolled around like a slob, rubbing his foot against his leg and moving his arms over his body.
My hard-on had faded as I had been running around like a headless chicken, but the tension was still there. Instantly, my body connected to my fantasies and responded. I gripped my dick tightly and started pumping. It didn't matter; so often I had fucked that doll and now I was just doing it without it, no big deal.

His body had replaced it, finally. His real body.
Our fight had been different from all our previous ones. I had felt such hate and the need for utter violence and whenever my fist or boot had touched him, it had felt like a pump to my dick. I had fucked his body with my arms and legs.
I growled with need and curled up while I tensed up my thighs. It was so much more intense that way and I was dying for an orgasm. For a week and more, I had suppressed these needs, feeling too ashamed and too low than to tend to them. They had not been gone at all, just moved to the back of my mind.

I pumped hard and bit my lip, thinking of his blood lips. I wanted to taste his blood again.
In front of me, he was licking his fingers. He'd shove them up his ass.
I should have done the same.
He was lying on the ground again, beaten, weak. I lifted him up and he tried to stand on his own, but I helped him, turned him around and pressed him against the wall. With my other hand, I tried to open the button of his pants.

“You have no idea,” I heard his husky voice, “For how long I have been waiting for you to do that.”

The first button was open and I growled with furstration; four more to go.
He squirmed and laughed and I slammed my hand against his back to silence him.

“So rough, you gentle man,” he continued with his tease, “I suppose you need it badly, don't you.”

“Fuck you,” I replied in my mind and tore at his pants, so violently that he staggered, but I caught him.

He turned his head and grinned, his eyes narrowed to dark slits. Pure temptation. I knew that I could do everything with him. Just everything.

“Go ahead, my shy knight,” he breathed and straightened his back to present me his butt.

I pulled his pants down and luckily, I was naked already down there so I just spread the pre-cum over my dick while he rubbed his hand against his butt cheek. There was blood on it. I tasted blood. Too forcefully, I had bitten my lip, but my tongue darted out to lick it already.
With a growl, I drove my dick up his ass and he squirmed and moaned.

“Fuck me hard,” he breathed and pressed his palms against the wall.

And I did as he had told me.
Brutally, I rode him, drove it in up to the base, back, almost out and in again; a bruising fuck. I sped up with my pumping and focused on him again. Sweat was on his forehead and his look triggered another pang of pleasure. Ecstatic.
Ruthlessly, I slammed him against the wall over and over again, bruised his hips and ripped his hole, but he just groaned with pleasure. I was close.

“AAAH!”

He came. Cum splashed against the wall.
I tensed up and with a breathy groan, I shot my load too. It filled his ass up and he jerked hard as his body was still shaken by his own orgasm. He jerked right into my dick. I pumped hard to milk myself dry and I fucked him till I had reached that point when I felt satisfied.
A few more lazy strokes, then I stopped and relaxed. Everything around me was wet from my sweat and I was panting; it had been so intense. Short, but intense.
His image faded in my thoughts, but the last thing I saw of him was his pleased smile. I indulged in that image some more, then I opened my eyes. It had gotten so stuffy under the blanket that I needed some fresh air and I got up and went to the window to open it.

As the cold air made me shiver, my body wet from sex sweat, I smiled. My heart felt a little lighter and I thought of him again. How we had kissed. How I had fucked up, but that was irrelevant now. We had kissed. And had I not fallen for my fears, we'd have done much more, so I supposed. He had opened up to me, accepted my touch and that was all that mattered now. Smiling dumbly, I stared at the darkness in front of me.
We'd meet again. And this time, I wouldn't beat him up. Unless he wanted me to. I gave a short laugh and turned around to go back to bed. And this night, I slept soundly till the alarm woke me up.

In the morning, I tended to my wounds again, then I got dressed and had coffee. Alfred had resigned himself to my silence and was having his own breakfast two seats away from me. When I checked my phone for business matters, I saw that I had a new message from a number I didn't know. Believing that it was my telephone company telling me that I could talk endlessly now without needing to pay more, I opened it.

“Why haven't you just humped me while you were at it?”

I gazed at the phone and read it again.
What.
I blushed hard and tightly gripped the phone. His words. He was here.
He had chosen to approach me. A faint smile spread on my lips and I gazed at the words.
The question of 'what' had been answered and I wondered now how he had been able to send me an SMS.
Right, I had called him during the doll incident. I had been so mentally challenged that I had not even considered calling him from a public phone.
I looked up and from the corner of my eye, I peered at Alfred, but he seemed busy with his breakfast.
Swallowing hard, I put the phone down and leaned back. In my mind, a huge and tight knot got solved, finally. He was feeling exactly the same.
I gave a happy laugh and rubbed my face. Alfred turned to look at me then and I faced him too. Since I smiled at him, he relaxed and lifted his eyebrow.

“One day, I'll thank you,” I said and smiled at him some more.

“What for, Master Bruce?”

“For enabling me to fuck the Joker,” I said boldly and grinned.

He dropped his expression and gazed at me in shock.

“Master Bruce, what...”

I grinned again and got up to get to work. As I sat in my car, my body felt so light that I'd have thought it wasn't there anymore. Today, work just happened on its own while I sat in my chair, just smiling dumbly and thinking of him.
Back at home, I had dinner with Alfred and then left for my bureau where I took the phone and looked at it. No new messages. I had kept him waiting for the entire day.
I looked up and considered calling him. The butterflies in my stomach were dancing vividly and imagining hearing his voice drove them beserk and they left through the wounds and filled up the room. I smiled again and pushed the button.

My heartbeat sped up and I broke a sweat again, so excited was I. Anxiously, I listened to the signal until I heard him answering. I froze in my chair and held my breath. I was calling the Joker.
He had answered, but I didn't hear anything. I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't. I knew that he was listening at the other end of the line and I felt so nervous that I just could not bring myself to talk. You'll have to talk first; I started and called you, it's your turn now.
But he didn't say anything for a minute. I took a deep breath and took the phone away from my ear. He didn't hang up. But I wouldn't either. I switched on the loudspeaker and put the phone on the desk. It was such a sweet feeling to know that he was over there and listening too. In some way, he was here, present. I smiled a shy smile and brushed over the phone. Still, I didn't hear anything.

For ten minutes, I sat there, gazing into the room and just enjoying his presence. It was funny how we simply couldn't talk despite having had so many chances to do so. Not when I had met him on the farm lane, not when I had met him that night and kissed him and not even now when we were having a phone call – something which was purely about talking. But it was alright; at least he was here.
I took the phone and left my bureau. I was sure that he could hear my footsteps and on the way to the living room, I checked the display of the phone to see if he had hung up, but he had not. I went to the cupboard and took a bottle and glass from it, then I returned to the bureau where I poured myself a drink. I did that close to the phone so he'd hear it.

I took a deep breath and took the glass to drink, then I had to smile again.
However, when I heard sounds coming from the loudspeaker, for the first time, I clenched my teeth and felt my excitement growing again. I heard water, something liquid being moved. Sounded like filling a glass. I sucked in the air and pressed my hand against my mouth, feeling so moved. He put the bottle on the table and then it was silent again. I pursed my lips and grinned; it was such a sweet feeling. This shared space between us opened up a new world to me and I got up and hurried to the living room to get the record player. I put it on the desk and glanced at the phone to tell if he was still there, and he was.

Well, now that I had the record player here, I had to think of a record. I had many jazz ones for evenings which followed days full of work, some Spanish music, classical music and some records from bands which had somehow found their way into my cupboard without me knowing how they had come to rest there. I needed something neutral, better no lyrics. I went back to the cupboard and looked through the records and whenever I had pulled one out, I looked at it and put it back. I could not decide since just everything seemed to be connoted in some way.
When I arrived at the classical section, I sighed. Just not that stuff. I was about to get up and ditch my plans as for making some music when I had an idea. There was one which I thought suited for this occasion. It had actually been a joke; Alfred had put it on in the batcave and when I had returned from one of my hunts, the entire cave had been shaking with dark organ music.

Sometimes, when I had been in a mood, I had sat down in my chair down there and played it at full volume. It was such a massive sound, echoing from the walls of the cave and producing a strange shattering effect.
I smiled widely, took the record and hurried to the bureau to carry the player down to the cave. Once more, I got back to my bureau then to take my phone, a vest and the bottle and glass.
When everything was ready, I switched it on and leaned back in my chair. Instantly, the first row of sounds travelled through the cave, got sent back to me and mingled with the other sounds. Granted, I had decided for that kind of music to make a good impression. The love doll incident was still preying on my mind and I did not want him to think of me as a brainless pervert. Some intellectual sophisticated classical music hopefully would do the job and change his mind.

However, as I sat there, having emptied the first glass, I gradually lost myself to that music. The sound of it was so clear and so booming that it sounded like the cave was lined with millions of glass pipes which were getting played. The melody was dramatic and not suited for churches. Who knew where he had gotten this strange artifact from.
The display of my phone was still bright so he was still there too. Only then, I hit upon an idea. I switched on the computer and tracked him down. Miracle Lane. I put my glass down and had a closer look at the map. It wasn't far from Desmond Street. Furrowing my brow, I leaned back and thought some more on that. Maybe he had chosen that place because it was close to his home. Since I had to assume that he was at home there, or at least it was a place where he spent more time. He might have been counting on me to approach him so he could take me home for a night full of love. I snorted with amusement and shook my head.

I had been so blind. Missed all his cues. I inhaled and bent down to be closer to the phone, but I held my breath, not being sure about doing what had seemed right just a second ago. I didn't want to destroy the magic at all so I decided to remain silent. I had spent so many months in silence and it couldn't hurt to shut up for some more hours at all. I just wanted to enjoy the music with him.

Two hours and four glasses later, the day took its toll and I felt too tired than to enjoy it any longer. I had spent a marvellous time with him anyway.
Slowly, I let the music fade out until it was completely silent except for the low sound of water flowing behind me. It was almost scary. Somehow, the music had been between us, like a cushion, and now I was left alone with him again.

I licked my lips and was about to whisper a 'Good night' into the phone and hang up when I stopped. I shrugged and took the phone upstairs where I headed for the sleeping room and undressed. As close to the phone as possible, so he'd hear it. The phone was on my bedside table. Just when I had found a comfy pose in my bed, I sat up again and switched off the alarm. Nothing should disturb us tomorrow morning, not even work.
With my cheeks aglow from joy, I snuggled up to the pillow and soon fell asleep. And not one single time, I woke up.

In the morning, however, I did. It was not the alarm which pulled my mind back into my body, but other sounds. No wonder I had woken up; my sleep wasn't very deep since even in my sleep, I was on high alert and the faintest sound could wake me up.
Still drowsy from sleep, I opened my eyes and tried to find out where that sound was coming from. Rhythmic snippets of sounds. My eyes got stuck at the phone and I sat up and took it.
He was panting.
I froze and swallowed hard while a heatwave surged through my body from head to toe.
But there was another sound, much fainter than his breathing. I turned up the volume and identified them: The distinct sounds of foreskin being pulled and pushed. My cheeks caught fire and my dick responded accordingly.

He was speeding up, slowly but continually. Petrified, I listened. It didn't take him long and his pants came in such a fast rhythm that he must have been close to orgasm. I clenched the sheets and concentrated hard on listening.
There. His voice in his pants.
I closed my eyes and gripped my dick and with my other hand, I placed the phone next to my body to let him hear me too. Violently, I pumped my dick to catch up with him and while I stubbornly kept my mouth shut for the first minute, I couldn't hold back anymore and started panting too. I heard him slowing down, but continuing and together, we worked ourselves towards orgasm. The more aroused I felt, the more did I let him hear it until I was adding my own voice to my gasps to express my need. He joined me and his voice drove me over the edge. With a stifled moan, I came and squirmed on the bed and while I was just ascending towards heaven, he came too. Unashamedly, he groaned and panted and I clenched my teeth and kept pumping to his sounds. It felt so good. So perfect.

I was still stroking myself when his sounds turned lower and just his pants were left. I stopped too and slumped down on the bed.
In my mind, I thanked him a thousand times.
My eyes wandered to the phone again and I took it and held it close to my mouth. He deserved to hear it, having been so courageous as to invite me for a morning jizz.

“Thank you,” I whispered into it, then I hurried to hang up.

My head was pounding from the strain and excitement and my cheeks were on fire yet again. Slowly, a grin spread on my lips. It was one of those boundless oceanic grins which were felt in the whole body. We had jerked off together and I had spoken to him. The day could not have started in any better way. Full of joy, I jumped from the bed and danced into the kitchen for coffee.
Naked.
And covered with cum.
I only realized so when I followed the direction of Alfred's stare.
My mind was heavily soaked with fuddeli-doo messengers so I just grinned and sat down without commenting on that.

“Seems like you found back to happiness,” Alfred remarked while he fetched the coffee pot from the machine.

“Yes, indeed,” I gave back with a grin and rubbed the cum into my skin under the table.

As he poured the coffee into my cup, he lifted his eyebrows and said: “I don't really dare ask how.”

“You wouldn't wanna hear it anyway.”

“I thought so.”

And the day took its course. All the while, I couldn't get rid of that dumb smile at all and people started asking me what was up with me, but I just said that I was in love.
And it felt so good.
Finally, I had been able to accept fate and go with the flow instead of fighting it. It had always been meant to be like that and I only realized now.
I was looking forward to the evening already when I would call him and spend the dark hours together with him.
I was so happy.

___

Chapter Text

Epilogue

For a very long time, I have been resting on a chair in the corner of that new flat with that pale man. During the first weeks, he has taken me to bed with him and occasionally, he has talked to me, but only little. It seems like he secludes himself from the world and I get the impression that he only leaves his flat because of Bruce, as he likes to call him.
I have watched the pale man getting happier and more cheerful with every week which has passed until this day.

The door is opened, the light is switched on and two men enter. I smile since I haven’t seen him for ages anymore. He looks good. So much better. The dark rings under his eyes are gone and he has gained some weight. Or muscles, I can’t tell. Attentive eyes follow the back of the Joker. He stops in the middle of the room and turns around to face Bruce who lowers his head and peers at him from below.
Still, they seem so shy. I must assume that they have been meeting several times until now, but only today, the Joker has been so courageous as to invite him home.

An insecure smile flashes across the Joker’s face, then he slips out of his jacket and drops it on the floor. The look of my man changes. I can feel his arousal; he knows what is going to happen and so do I.
Slowly and seductively, the Joker opens the buttons of his shirt and drops it on top of his jacket. Bruce gets so fidgety that he needs to move and so he starts undressing too. They keep shooting each other glances whenever one piece of clothing drops on the floor. They are so cute. I can see why one loves the other. They are a perfect match, both so shy and though, yearning for each other so badly.

Bruce is the first to be naked and I grin. I have watched the Joker stalling for time and how he has been playing with the buttons of his pants, waiting for Bruce to be naked first.
The Joker licks his lips as Bruce’s briefs get dropped. I don’t know whether it’s the first time they see each other naked, but somehow, it feels to me like they have met already. Though, the charm of still being in the phase of falling in love keeps their brains mushy and their genitals raging. The Joker is hard. Bruce is still working on it. But he won’t need long, I know my man.

Three pairs of eyes are glued to a semi-hard dick which grows right in front of these eyes. We make it grow together. Red spreads on his cheeks and chest; he is embarrassed, but he tries to bear with our looks and the shame hardens his dick.
A grin, then the Joker’s briefs join Bruce’s and they marry on the floor. What Bruce sees makes him reach his full size. A pale and sturdy penis, shorter than his, but still of pleasing size. He allows Bruce to look at it and compare it and now I feel doubt rising whether they have seen each other naked before. But maybe they aren’t comparing them but just exploring their difference.

The Joker is the first one who moves, finally. He passes Bruce and as he does so, he grabs his dick and I hear him sucking in the air. His fingers slide over Bruce's flank and he gropes his butt, then he grins and sits down on the bed. He waits for Bruce to turn around and face him, then he leans back, presenting himself to him. I see his eyes; they are eating him up, they want to touch him, kiss him, suck him off, fuck him, just all the things he’s done with me.
I feel so glad that they have met, finally. When I see them acting together now, I feel that it is right. Their bodies are a perfect match, the Joker’s so thin and Bruce’s just so big. I wonder who is on top.

Saucily, the Joker crosses his legs and peers at Bruce with that naughty look. I have never seen that yet, but why should he look at me like that. That look only belongs to his lover.
Bruce grabs his dick and pulls at it. The Joker grins and wets his fingers to reach under his butt. However, as he notices Bruce’s eyes glazing over with need, he gets up, fetches a small bottle from the bedside table and then puts one foot on the bed. He lubes his fingers and shows us how he spreads his hole.
It seems like when it’s getting down to sex, they are just losing their shame, but as soon as they need to talk, they turn into stammering teens. So sweet.

Bruce watches and he swallows hard. He is so aroused that his dick is hard and with needy eyes, he looks at the Joker who grins again and turns around. I watch him climbing the bed and offering Bruce his ass. For a moment, he closes his eyes, then he climbs the bed too, but before he tops him, he pulls the Joker's hands away so the Joker falls down. He hurries to lie down too and embraces him to kiss him. The Joker struggles for a few moments, but he accepts his gentleness and they kiss.

Hands are running up and down their bodies, feet rubbing against the skin of the other and between them, their dicks are kissing too. They move like one single body. It is such a sensual delight to watch them, how perfectly they move together. Two men, like they were made for each other. With their closed eyes, they explore their bodies until they are panting. One of them opens his eyes and at seeing the other being lost in rapture, he grins and kisses him harshly. The other responds in the same way and after a short fight, they part and the pale man’s body is flipped over. And then, he tops him.

The groans of two men who are in such a fever that they seem to forget everything around them make me smile with bliss. I have never listened to anything sweeter than this. Without any shame, they express their arousal; they pant, they hiss, they growl and moan.
He moves so gracefully; like a snake, he moves when he drives his dick up the Joker’s hole and he closes his eyes and gifts him with a moan again. How gently he touches him. I understand why he has been yearning for that man now.

Their moans become louder and I feel my skin getting tight too. I love watching them. It reminds me of what that feels like when he does it with me.
Both are sweating and Bruce’s thrusts turn more violent; he is panting for release. The Joker grins and clutches the sheets. I can feel him clenching his ass.
Bruce groans loudly and lifts his head as he comes. I know his moves when he is delving into orgasm. The Joker joins him; he can’t resist that thought. Both are shaking with pleasure and Bruce grips the Joker’s hair and pulls at it. He yields to it and lifts his head and I can see his eyes being squinted shut and his mouth open.
Bruce rides him hard and fills him with his cum. So often, he has done that with me and I know that feeling. Hot liquid gushing out of his tip. I am almost jealous of the Joker.

For a few more moments, I indulge in their moans and pants until Bruce slows down. The Joker bends his head and Bruce lifts his. I can feel him smiling.
Eventually, they slump down on the bed with Bruce on top of the Joker. They try to catch their breath, unable to move. Though, after a few pants, Bruce moves to the side and they face each other.
Silence.
They share their breath, their looks, their bodies, but no words.
They stare at each other and recall what has happened. Smiling, I relax finally too, but I tense up again when I feel Bruce’s look on me. He smiles. The Joker turns to look at me too, then he smirks. He licks his lips, grabs Bruce’s chin and pulls him closer for a kiss.

Yes, it was me who has brought you together. You will remember that for the rest of your lives and I will remember it too. I have transcended my existence; I have changed two lives. Instead of binding them to me in their sadness, I have empowered them to meet and free themselves from the grip of their shame. I was made for serving a desperate man with needs, no less, no more, but fate has chosen me to be the linchpin of a relationship. I am a doll; I can’t talk, I can’t move, I can’t act, and though, I have made two men happy. I turn sentimental when I remind myself of that.
Bruce kisses him so passionately that he needs to sit up and push the Joker down. Even after his orgasm, he is still so passionate. He crawls on top of him and kisses him to death. The Joker laughs into his mouth and Bruce licks his palate, then he turns to his tongue and the Joker closes his eyes and lets his tongue play with Bruce’s.

They don’t need words. All they need is their empathy and passion to be happy.
Bruce suddenly jumps from the bed and runs to the door where he switches the lights off. The Joker giggles and I hear Bruce jumping on the bed, then a scream of surprise and more laughter.
I smile and close my eyes. Their pants, giggles and gasps accompany me through the night. In the darkness, I see two silhouettes, one thin and one chunky one. Endlessly, they play with each other, tease each other, love each other.

I am so happy they have met. I’d cry if I just could.
Eventually, they lie down and turn silent and I close my eyes again to get some sleep too.
In the morning, I am woken by the first rays of sun. I enjoy that so much since I have spent half of my life in a dark drawer and I long for seeing the light.
As the sun gently illuminates the room, I see my two men sleeping there. One against the other; Bruce’s crotch against the Joker’s butt.
Two happy men.
Forever, so I hope.

Bruce sighs and winds his arm around the Joker’s body. Smiling, he snuggles up to his body and I hear a sigh of bliss.
So long, I have waited to hear one.
Another sigh of that kind travels to my ears. The Joker’s.
I smile at them and close my eyes. Three happy people. If I think back to the time when I used to live in his drawer and served as his substitute I feel a whiff of that sadness, but I know that I will never need to feel it again. The two men hug each other tightly and they whisper words of love into their ears. I hear them and I blush.
They are so sweet. Two shy men.
Forever.

___