The room isn't designed for long-term human occupation. There is no bathroom, no food, no bed, no climate control - though this is Florida, so climate control is not such a concern - no plumbing.
But there's lots of magic. It's such fun to make, after all.
(Nathan had been worried he'd have to ask one of the succubi, or Joham, for lessons on what might whimsically be called "safe sex". He likes not having to bother with this better.)
He conjures an enormous comfy mattress to sleep on, cuddled up to Nathan, because he likes sleeping and he likes cuddles and it makes a nice occasional change from fucking on the floor. He doesn't like going to the bathroom enough to go find one, so he magics away the need whenever it comes up. Likewise he conjures things to eat or drink when he needs them, or magics himself not-hungry and not-thirsty if he's in the middle of something when his body's reuirements distract him.
They're going to have to get out of here eventually, though, if only so they can go somewhere where he can make some real noise without getting on anybody's nerves.
"Her Majesty's gonna come looking for all the fruits of our arduous, difficult labor, soon," says Nathan, hands tickling with alternately gentle and punishing pressure up the Joker's side. "Been almost a week."
"Time sense. Vampire perk, not just me. But - over the next few hours - there is a best time to get dressed, and apparently it's in a minute and a half." (Nuzzle, nuzzle.) "I can only assume between the elapsed week and that fact that Her Majesty shows up a bit after that."
"Well, remind me to magic up some clothes, then," he says. The lace nightie he arrived wearing is in pieces around the room, and no two of the pieces are touching.
"Some of my things might fit you, too," Nathan says, "but sure, babe." He picks up his mate one-armed and starts rifling through his closet.
"Wearing your clothes would be cute," he says. "Maybe I will later."
"Dunno if any of it's to your taste, of course." Nathan picks a flannel and a pair of jeans, but the minute and a half hasn't fully elapsed yet, so he doesn't set the Joker down to put either on yet.
(Nuzzle nuzzle nibble nibble, immunity to venom and a defense against the effects of the taste having been taken care of days ago.) "I don't have strong opinions about my wardrobe. I just get simple things."
"I'll make you pretty things," says the Joker, hugging him again. "'Cause you're pretty."
"You're pretty," Nathan returns. One more squeeze, just enough to crack a rib or two, and he sets him down on the mattress and shimmies into his jeans and shrugs on the flannel.
"You're such a sweetie," he says affectionately, and snaps his fingers for theatrics, and is abruptly dressed. It's the old Joker getup, purple suit and green vest and blue shirt. And a knife in his pocket, because really, he's hardly dressed without one.
Sure enough, there is presently a knock at the door.
"Come in," calls Nathan, sitting down on the mattress beside the Joker.
The doors do actually lock, more to tell would-be entrants when they're welcome than to actually keep anyone determined out. But of course she's got all the keys. Bella lets herself in. "It's been a week," she says mildly to her mint.
There's a lot.
"We've been busy," he adds, not that she doesn't know that.
"I'm sure. Well, that's all," she says, inspecting the chain. "Thank you."
"See you in... I think a week and a half," she says. "Thereabouts." She waves and closes the door behind her.
"Now what?" Nathan inquires, insinuating.
"More squares where that came from," says Nathan, and he pounces.
They can't stay in this room having intermittent sex for the literal rest of forever, though. In fact, it's only the next morning that the Joker wakes up and murmurs sleepily, "I feel like getting out of here. You feel like coming with?"
"Capital's not moving for another week, so if you mean now, then - well, yes. Always. Where to? Trains, planes, or automobiles?"