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Jeremiah made quick work of arranging his tools for the night, trying not to pay too much attention to his “victim” strapped down and squirming in the center of the room. He wondered, again, if he really should have agreed to this, if Bruce really comprehended the consequences of all that he had asked for. He considered, for the umpteenth time, changing his plans. But Bruce had been so open, eyes blown wide, practically begging when they’d talked about it. An abnormality for him… Jeremiah had to trust he knew what he wanted when he had asked.
He checked over his instruments once more, before crossing to the table where Bruce lay bound, dragging the cart with him. He checked his wrist restraints (making sure one hand was free enough to snap if needed), his legs restraints and, finally, the oxygen mask sat ominously on a stainless-steel cart next to their other playthings for the night. All that they had discussed, and that Bruce had asked for, perfectly in place. He could stall it no longer, so he leaned over and removed the gag from Bruce’s mouth.
“You’ll never get away with this-” Bruce started.
“Did I say you could talk?” Jeremiah cut him off coldly, not even looking him in the face, “Honestly Bruce, you know that you’re in no position to make demands, don’t you? No one is going to come for you. No one but me knows you’re here.”
“They’ll look for me. Alfred and Dick will come home tomorrow, and if I’m not back by that night, they’ll come looking!”
“I don’t doubt they will,” Jeremiah replied, earnest and smooth, “But who said anything about me keeping you until then?” That sounded harsh of him. "I just want to have a little fun with you for the night. A lover’s getaway, as it were," he amended.
“This is sick, Jeremiah, you can’t do this to me!” Bruce sounded sincerely frightened, enough to make Jeremiah look him in the eye, ready to call the whole thing off before he caught the barest hint of a smirk gracing Bruce's mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief. Jeremiah grinned in response and slapped him hard across the face.
“Shut. Your. Mouth! And this will be a whole lot more enjoyable for us both.” Jeremiah ignored Bruce’s offended gasp, reaching to his left and picking up a pair of trauma shears. He cut smoothly through the shoulders and neckline of the tank top Bruce had worn for “bed”, tearing the garment open easily. He kept eye contact with Bruce as he slowly opened the “panels” he’d created, trying not to smile at how his paramour gulped in anticipation of what was to come. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and giving Bruce a passionate kiss, one that Bruce melted into easily, momentarily forgetting the scenario they’d created. He pulled away again just as he heard Bruce’s restraints jangle, a sign he’d tried to wrap his arms around the clown. Bruce pouted up at him from the table, and Jeremiah waited for Bruce to break. He didn’t.
“Don’t pout at me, my dear,” Jeremiah cooed, continuing the game, “We’ve only started, and I assure you, we’re going to have a lot of fun.” He set the shears aside, contemplating what to reach for next before picking up the switchblade, letting it flick open and glint at him. Admittedly, he would have liked a more delicate blade for this next bit. A scalpel, perhaps. A scalpel would be sharper. Painless, perhaps. Smaller, for certain. And cleaner...Jeremiah wasn’t above making a bloody mess of course, but where his lover was involved, he preferred as little bloodshed as could be managed. Bruce, however… well, Bruce by now had seen the instrument selected and was already wiggling, ostensibly to get away. In reality, both men knew it was a sign of anticipation.
Jeremiah trailed the flat edge of the blade down Bruce’s neck, holding his chest against the table and discreetly searching for his heartbeat. He pressed the tip of the blade against Bruce’s skin, pausing to search Bruce’s face for any sign of fear. All he was met with were dilated pupils. He continued, pressing the slightly dulled blade against Bruce's skin until blood began to ooze lazily from the wound. Bruce's eyes were locked on the blade, his breaths shuddering out in gasps as Jeremiah carved the letters into his flesh: JAV + BTW . By the time he finished off the W, Jeremiah could barely hold Bruce still, having to put all his weight on his arm to keep him steady.
“Miah...Miah, please-” Bruce panted, dropping the game altogether.
“Do you need to use your word, darling?” Jeremiah asked, breaking character for a moment.
“No, I need you...I want to do everything we planned.” Jeremiah chuckled a bit at that, half in the spirit of the scene and half in earnest at how cute Bruce was when he was desperate.
“Oh, Brucey~. I knew you’d come around to having fun with me.” Bruce gulped as Jeremiah placed the blade back against his skin, “And I promise, we will get to it all in time. But first, I need to finish this.” With a few more well practiced turns of his wrist, Jeremiah added a small, rounded heart around their initials, dropping the knife back on the surgical cart dismissively as Bruce sobbed under him.
He gave Bruce a few moments to calm down before stepping away from the table. Almost playfully, he took out an alcohol pad and swiped it over the blade a few times, before rubbing it down the center of Bruce’s new marks. Bruce howled at that, arching his back and straining at his bonds. Jeremiah couldn’t help but smirk. Even before they had started their relationship, Jeremiah had known that Bruce had the tendency to seek out pain, and though the extent of his masochism still managed to surprise or frighten him, it was very rarely unpleasant to watch his sweetheart lose himself to his darker desires.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did that hurt?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as innocent as possible.
“Fuck you,” Bruce spat back, his bratty side coming out and embracing the game again.
“In due time, Bruce. But as tempting as you look, and as willing as I know you are-” Jeremiah paused then, letting one of his hands trail down Bruce’s stomach to stroke his cock through his pants, “I want you begging first.” He allowed himself a few more strokes, watching Bruce bite his lip to avoid making a sound. It was time, he decided, to move on to the next step in his plan.
He checked the label on his modified oxygen tank, making sure once again that he had the right mixture. When Bruce had said he wanted to use one of Ivy’s pollens for...recreational purposes, Jeremiah had tested several versions, with various amounts of air mixed in. It had been a long and uncomfortable process to be sure, but he’d finally settled on one that would cause arousal but not to the point of unbearable, instantaneous pain that the undiluted version brought.
Once he was satisfied that he did indeed have the right mixture, Jeremiah twisted the nozzle on the tank’s line to the oxygen mask, before lifting the mask itself and strapping it over Bruce’s nose and mouth. Bruce’s eyes went wide when he recognized the smell.
“Jeremiah, you-”
“This is just to help you swallow some of your pride, my love.”
“Miah...I’m…” Bruce was breathing harder now, the first effects of the pollen already taking hold.
“Whenever you’re ready for me, I’ll be here, my little prince.” Jeremiah swept some of Bruce’s hair away from his forehead, planting a gentle kiss there before walking to sit at his old desk and pretend to read.
Bruce was resilient, Jeremiah would give him that. Even with the modified version of the pheromones, he’d found himself wanting relief within three minutes of consistent use. Bruce lasted nearly seven before his resolve crumbled all at once and he started trying to flail out of his restraints, hips desperately seeking friction and making hurt, incomprehensible noises. While he had intended to walk, smug and self assured, back to Bruce’s side, Jeremiah practically vaulted his desk and sprinted. He removed the mask first, before composing himself and settling back into his dominant role.
“Well now, have you found it in your heart to beg for me, or do you need a little more time-”
“MIAH!” Bruce cried indignantly, spurring the clown to grab his trauma shears again and remove Bruce's pants, “PLEASE! I’ll be good, I promise, just please please -” Bruce cut himself off with a scream as Jeremiah ran his fingers over the cuts on his chest.
“I know dearest, I know,” he soothed, running his fingers down Bruce’s chest to his hip, tracing circles on his thigh, “It increases sensitivity in the best and worst way. It’s the most divine torture I can fathom. I should know,” he leaned down to Bruce’s ear, as if to whisper a secret, “I tested it on myself.” Bruce shuddered at that, clearly picturing his lover driving himself insane (or perhaps more insane) with the gas.
“I... I’m...Miah, I want-”
“I know, Brucey. I know exactly what you need. And you shall have it," Jeremiah soothed, petting at Bruce's hair. He made quick work of clearing away the remnants of Bruce's clothing, leaving the other man completely exposed against the vinyl table. He was so hard it looked painful, and admittedly, Jeremiah was at a bit of a loss about what to do next. He had intended to keep Bruce on the edge for longer, employing a few more of his tricks before allowing the other man release. Bruce had been insistent on how he wanted the night to go, but frankly, there was no way he'd last without an orgasm through all Jeremiah had planned. Not with the amount of gas he'd managed to inhale before cracking. The paler man made a hasty decision, grabbing Bruce's face in his hands and forcing him to make eye contact.
"I'll give you what you want, Bruce. Alright? But if I let you out, you have to promise to be good." Bruce nodded, eyes slipping shut and mouth dropping open to allow Jeremiah's thumb into his mouth. Jeremiah removed the appendage after a few seconds of Bruce suckling at it. The clown removed the fastening on Bruce's legs first, hesitating before moving to free an arm. As expected, Bruce lunged upward as soon as he was partially freed. His free limbs wrapped around Jeremiah as he kissed him, practically dragging him onto the table and on top of him. He allowed Bruce to kiss and paw at him as he fumbled blindly with the fastening of his pants.
He finally managed to open his pants, groaning as his cock was freed from its confines. Bruce started openly as he stroked himself twice, teasingly. He leaned down and kissed Bruce gently on the forehead before taking himself and Bruce in hand, burying his face into the man's neck to muffle his own moaning. Bruce practically purred against his lips, spreading his legs further and thrusting up to meet Jeremiah's strokes.
"My, my~" he chuckled breathlessly, "I knew you were a strange man, Bruce, but I never thought you'd get off on something like this. " Bruce made a sound between a whine and a snarl before pulling Jeremiah back against his mouth. While he'd obviously been interested before, Jeremiah could feel himself growing more desperate from the traces of pheromones lacing Bruce's kiss.
"If I were a more patient man, Brucey, I'd keep you on the edge all night. I'd drive you completely mad. You'd never want to leave this room, if it meant you may get the release you crave," Jeremiah mused as he kissed down Bruce's neck to his chest, pausing to lick over the wounds on his lover's chest. Bruce whimpered, either from the sensation or the possibility of being kept in suspense as the clown continued kissing and sucking down his torso.
He sat back on his knees when he reached his lover’s groin. Admittedly, he was a bit...overwhelmed by opportunities. He could choose to inflict all sorts of torture, going through with his threat of edged and ruined orgasms until either Bruce broke down and begged or he himself couldn’t wait any longer. There was the stroker or the wand for that. He could always just… take Bruce now, with a bit of prep. He could let Bruce take him . That was an enticing thought, considering the near animal state his lover was in. More enticing though, was the way Bruce’s cock was bobbing with every stroke of his hand. It was leaking copious amounts of precome, a reddish purple with desire, and it was then that Jeremiah knew he needed it in his mouth.
Bruce groaned as he was licked at. Jeremiah took his lover’s tip into his mouth, letting two slicked fingers tease at his entrance as he bobbed his head carefully.
“Miah, I swear I’ll be good, I promise ,” Bruce panted, reaching down to try and tangle his hand in his lover’s hair. Jeremiah pulled off and knocked his hand away.
“Then don’t cum yet, and don’t touch. I know you can hold off a few minutes longer.” Bruce hiccupped a sob at that but put his free hand behind his back. Jeremiah rewarded him with a kiss to his inner thigh. "There's my good little toy," he praised, pushing in both fingers and rubbing lightly at his prostate. He looked at Bruce through his lashes to see the man biting his lip to the bleeding point, trying desperately not to move or cum. The sight was pretty enough to tempt him to stroke himself, but he held off, willing to delay his gratification if it meant that he got a better show from the man he loved.
Bruce lasted two, maybe three minutes writhing on his fingers, but arched his back sobbing when Jeremiah let his teeth graze the base of his shaft gently. He didn’t withdraw until Bruce’s cries started to settle into overstimulated whines, noting as he pulled off that Bruce was still hard and twitching. He didn’t bother wiping his mouth before kissing the other man, groaning under his breath at how filthy it was, and how easy it was to lose himself in the lingering pheromones on Bruce’s tongue. Without warning though, he felt himself flipped on his back against the table. Bruce straddled his hips, pinning his arms to the vinyl. He stared down at him as he gasped, his brown eyes having shifted to a rich, earthy green.
“I’m not done,” he rasped before taking hold of Jeremiah’s cock and sinking down in one fluid motion. Jeremiah moaned and threw his arm over his face. He could tell he was in for a long night.