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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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1,452
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1/1
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7
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1,368

Doomed by Definition

Summary:

Disclaimer: I don’t own Batman or Etrigan, I just love them to pieces.
Rating: Not FRM, but not FRT-17. In between? There's mention of sex, and Jason is kinda weird. That's all.
Pairing/Character: Batman/Jason Blood
Summary: Jason wants to blame Etrigan for all the wrong in his relationship with Batman, but he has some owning up to do. Jason is very, very tired of being the immortal vessel of the Demon. Batman would carry the world in his shoulders if he could.
It requires beta'ing. So comments, corrections and all that are well received.

Work Text:

Doomed by Definition
by Schatten

It was sex.

Angry, messy, hungry sex.

Jason could tell himself all the lies he wanted, call it whatever he pleased. He could say it was just release for both parts, from being so tightly wound and always with such a firm reign over their feelings and actions. He could call it bonding, a connection between warriors after trusting each others lives on the other's hands. He could call it a sport fuck, an emotionally detached enjoyable activity with an equally emotionally detached partner.

But Jason Blood was old, and didn't allow himself the luxury of delusion. And as much as he wanted to delude himself, well...

Foolish Jason, flesh your thought
And calm the beating of your heart
What you want, it matters not
In fire his soul soon will be caught

The rhyming demon could read him with ease and enjoyed the presumption that he knew Jason better than Jason himself. It was a disturbing feeling, one that the magician had never grown accustomed to, that of the demon playing his conscience, calling his bluffs.

So, without the luxury of delusion, Jason had to admit that it wasn't just sex.

Now, exactly what were you supposed to call angry, messy, hungry sex that wasn't just that was outside his knowledge.

It was a dark thing, something that wasn't supposed to be happening. It had nothing to do with them being what they were, and everything to do with who they were. There was a seemingly bottomless pool of sadness in the dark knight's heart, an ever-burning fire of righteous rage, a monstrous creature made of fear and revenge and pain. And for all the broken landscape of the man's heart, the dark creature that haunted his dreams and nights -the Bat- did all it had to do in order to protect a formidable amount of stubborn, fragile hope.

This tempted Etrigan, fueled a fire that was lustful and tingling with corrupted joy, and feeling this particular emotions from the prince of hell made his stomach do somersaults. They were disgustingly sinful and they made him feel tainted. They made him feel like he was taking advantage over a powerful ally, a friend.

Lies will lead you astray
You should know by now
You're not naïve, let's pray
Accept your place in the guilty row

Fine. It was of no use to try and embellish the sickening feelings Etrigan's wants woke in him.

He felt like he was abusing a child. It was a horrible thing, and every time he told himself it was the last time, that he would reign over the demon on their next encounter, he would keep his hands -his tainted, abusing hands- to himself, away from the cowl, away from the silky black hair, away from the toned scarred body.

He would keep his mouth -his dirty, demanding mouth- away from the smoky mysterious taste of his lips, away from the soft skin, away from the callused hands, from the muscled chest, from the chiseled abs, the leaping cock.

He would keep his overpowering body -though he knew the body he fought for power didn't put his heart in winning that particular battle- away from the powerful physic of his friend, from the dark man that covered himself in body armor to protect himself from the derangement of the night yet allowed a demon in his bed.

Bruce was too young. All of them were. It didn't matter that he was a grown man; it never helped the pedophile vibe that arose in Jason every time they parted ways. Inside, where the hope was kept away from the dangers of the world in a sacred, secret place, Bruce was nothing more than a child.

Etrigan wanted that child for himself. He wanted the demonic rage and the avenging fire too, the Beast inside the Man.

Etrigan wanted an equal.

Let's not say that evil taints my wants
Don't play the hypocrite
He wakes up in your arms
You twist your desires as you see fit

It was that, obviously, what made Jason uncomfortable about the whole affair. He couldn't very well put the blame on Etrigan alone, since Batman had never knelt at the demons feet, it hadn't been Etrigan's claw holding the dark knight's head in place, nor had it been Etrigan's foul breathing getting ragged with exhaustion. Of all the terrible things that the demon whispered in his mind, Jason had never inflicted them on Bruce. Etrigan had whined and pleaded for release, for a piece of the painful offering that the detective did of his body and soul, and Jason had denied him.

So no, he couldn't blame Etrigan. Maybe he shouldn't blame the demon at all.

Because, hadn't he said? It had nothing to do with them being what they were, and everything to do with who they were. He knew who Bruce was, one needed not to read the man's aura, only to stare into his timber wolf eyes.

But Jason was a different story. His soul had been degrading slowly over the endless years with Etrigan. What he had been once he was no more, each year losing another inch, growing weaker while the demon grew stronger, striking compromises that were masked defeats, deceits conceived by the Lord of Lies to make him think the battle could still be won. Under his cynical façade -that was really less of a mask and more of the real man these days- there were the last strands of hope he had, and for all the sickening disgust that Etrigan's desire of Batman woke in him, didn't he owed himself to give his hopes a chance?

He roamed the world, cursed with immortality. All he had ever loved had long ago passed away, a memory that lost coercion with every year passing. Distancing himself from humankind, to protect them and himself from harm, had left him with a bunch of distant friends, most of them dwelling on the occult.

Bruce hated magic, he hated the way it bend the rules. It messed with his scientific view of the world, it took control away from his hands. Jason was a magician, yet he willingly relinquished control to him. Bruce trusted him.

Jason enjoyed the control; the knowledge of how this man on his lap was one of the most dangerous men on earth was exhilarating. Batman knew Etrigan, he had worked side by side with him, he knew the evil that resided deep inside Jason, and yet he approached him without fear.

So what was he supposed to call this thing that shouldn't be, that made him feel sick but that he wanted so much? What was the other word for angry, messy, hungry sex?

Don't try to sick me
With your wretched poetry
If you want him, keep him then
I'll have my share in the end

It wasn't love. That had never been the question. But he wanted to control the powerful man, he wanted to hurt him a little to remind him he was mortal and alive, he wanted to guide his hands -those hands that seemed so young in perspective- and teach them what hundreds of years had taught Jason. He wanted to touch the dangerous Beast inside the Man and be hurt by it, just a little, to remind himself that his demon wasn't the only demon in the world, that maybe Bruce didn't fully grasp what is was to deal with the prince of hell each and every day for years without end, but he wasn't completely unaware of what it was to live half a life, always plagued by the Beast. And most of all, he wanted to tap into the corner of Bruce's soul that kept hoping against all hope, the one that was, regardless of his fears, not tainted by the way Batman threw his body willingly both to battle and to bed.

Like Etrigan, he wanted that child. He too wanted the Beast.

He didn't care for an equal, though.

He wanted freedom. If Etrigan wanted a piece of his lover enough, maybe he would be free. His eroded morality was coming to the end of its rope.

Don't give up on us just yet, Jason

It wasn't just sex. A part of him begged to the god that had forsaken him for it to be just that. The rest of him knew it was a promise of oblivion.

Batman had promised him peace, and Jason wanted to protect him, for now.

Stall if you want, I will wait
The bargain has been made
If you want him, keep him safe
I'll have my share in the end