A/N: I meant to get this posted yesterday, but too much going on! Anyway, thank you to everyone reading, and thanks so much for the reviews, I really appreciate you guys.

WARNING: A lot of sex in this one. A... lot. Kind of non-con, sort of. And, bad words. So, you know, be aware of that.

Reeniecat

Bruce closed his eyes. The Joker was doing a workman-like job of cleaning his genital area and it felt damn good. The water was warm and the soapy scrub of the washcloth offered delicious friction. He felt helpless, but, absurdly, somehow safe in the hands of the man who had stabbed him. He knew it was crazy, but everything about the last few days was crazy, and his already over-taxed body slipped into a state of much-needed relaxation.

The Joker smiled down at his captive. So beautiful... So much time gone by, so much lost. He shook his head, then noted that Bruce's cock had come to life, and his grin broadened.

"Oh, my, my. Brucie, look at this, something's happened to your boy-thing! See? It's gotten all hard and long, and, uh, thick--" He dropped the cloth and took Bruce in his hand, experimentally squeezing and stroking in mock wonder, as if he'd never seen such a thing before in his life. Bruce opened his eyes as he stifled a groan along with the need to thrust into the clown's hand.

"You bastard, you meant for this to happen all along, didn't you? How can you--after talking about your past? Was any of that even true?"

The Joker's teasing expression fell away. "It was all true, and so what. As I said, it's irrelevant." He stopped fondling Bruce and gestured with both hands. "Just another boring tear-jerker about people that died for no reason. Happens all the time." He leaned closer to Bruce's face, pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "We're here now, you and I. We're here--that's all that matters." He took Bruce's face in his hand, tilted it back and licked a line from his collarbone up to his jaw, finishing with a sharp nip. "And I, for one, could use a good fuck. How about you?"

"No..."

The Joker chuckled and reached to the end of the tub to pull out the stopper. "'No?' Wrong answer." As the water drained away, he stood and began taking off his wet clothes. "Tell me, Bruce, is it rape if you fuck me?" Bruce shot a look of disgust toward him, but his mouth fell open when he saw the long, jagged scar that ran from high on the Joker's ribs to low on his belly.

"Jesus," he gasped.

"Huh? Oh, that. Yeah, they really cut me open. Listen, you haven't lived until you've gotten a peek at your own guts. Buuut--" He was naked now, and he stepped into the tub and straddled Bruce's hips. "...you should of seen what I did to them." He gave a low laugh and took Bruce's cock in his hand, this time stroking him with firm assurance, quickly bringing him to a full erection. He reached down beside the tub for his pants and dug in his pockets until he found a condom and a small tube of lubricant. He opened the package, slipped the condom over Bruce's straining erection, and slicked him up.

Bruce maintained a laser-like stare into the Joker's eyes. "I guess if you're bothering with a condom, you have some thoughts of the future."

"Nah, I just hate getting a case of the clap, and God knows where your dick's been."

He smirked as he lowered himself onto Bruce's member, easing it inside himself, grunting as he was penetrated by its length. Bruce gave up any pretense of resistance and waited until he was fully seated, then began thrusting his hips upward, wanting to go even deeper inside the slick warm channel. The Joker moved with him, rocking his hips up and down, then leaned forward, supporting himself by grasping the edge of the tub, and allowed Bruce to bang into him from below. Bruce desperately wished he had the use of his hands, that they were on a bed where he could flip the clown under him and really pound into him, but this was good. Good enough.

The Joker took his own cock in hand and began stroking himself. Bruce had a moment of hyper-self-awareness, and was struck by the irrationality of the situation--being ridden by a maniacal clown and loving every minute of it--when the Joker climaxed, spurting over Bruce's belly and chest. He sat there for a moment, recovering, then rose and stepped out of the tub. He removed the condom, then cleaned up Bruce's stomach with the cloth.

"That's it?" Bruce asked bitterly. "We're done? Not very polite, leaving me hanging."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll take care of you. I just wanted to get a little more comfortable." He pulled on his pants, jammed the gun in the back of his waistband, then unlocked the cuffs.

He helped Bruce get up and out, holding onto his wrists in a strong grip, then re-cuffed him from behind. He wrapped a towel around Bruce's waist and led him back to the bedroom. He yanked down the towel and forced him onto the bed and secured his hands to the headboard again. He then lay down next to him, leaned over and took him in his mouth.

Bruce again was overtaken with the incapacitating mixture of pleasure and helplessness, and he closed his eyes, thrusting into the warm wet suction. The Joker was infuriatingly slow, taking time to lick and bite at him rather than bring him to a quick release, but he finally stepped up the pace and Bruce groaned as he blindly ejaculated into his mouth.

"Aw, fuck," he wheezed. He laughed slightly when he saw the remnants of bright red paint smudged on his penis, and he looked up at the clown grinning down at him.

"So, tell me now, Brucie--is this rape?' the Joker teased.

"I--no, I guess not."

"Well, how about this?" He again reached for his trousers and brought out another condom and the lube. Bruce saw that the Joker's erection had returned, and he suddenly realized what was about to happen. He felt a sense of panic rise in his chest, along with a rush of excitement.

The Joker poured a glob of gel onto his fingers and slid the middle one into Bruce. He gasped and recoiled, but after a moment forced himself to give in, to relax. He stared out the window, letting the long-forgotten sensation of being entered wash over him. The Joker continued to prepare him, stroking inside, probing deeper, until Bruce was moving in rhythm with his touch. It was strange yet familiar, and he could almost sense the presence of a young Jack, anxiously preparing him for this act so many years ago, worried he would hurt him, wanting to please him...

"Look at me." The voice was low, but commanding. Bruce turned his gaze to the Joker. He wasn't smiling but he leaned forward and kissed him. "You ok? You want this, don't you? Think you're ready?" He sounded almost genuinely concerned, and Bruce nodded. The Joker fumbled with the condom, then lubricated himself. He pulled Bruce's legs up to his waist, then used one hand to guide his erection into the bound man. Bruce groaned, and found himself eagerly arching upward, into the thrust. The Joker supported himself on outstretched arms and slid in and out with long, deep strokes. Bruce futilely yanked against the cuffs, and gave a cry of frustration when the Joker bit into the soft flesh of his neck, then down onto his shoulder, to his nipples.

A whispered "Just like old times, huh?" from the Joker. Bruce gave a small, scornful laugh.

"Not really, Jack. Not really."

"Hmm." He went back to thrusting, increasing his speed. Bruce sank back into the softness of the mattress, accepting the pleasure, wishing it were another time and place. The Joker finally came and after lowering his full weight onto Bruce for a long moment, pulled out and rolled over beside him.

"Well. That was... fun, don't you think? Although, I may be too old to be queer. My ass is sore."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh and the Joker grinned and wrapped himself around him. "There, that's more like it," he said approvingly.

"I've missed you, Jack." Bruce pressed a kiss against the painted forehead before he caught himself. The Joker gave a derisive snort but burrowed his face into Bruce's neck. Bruce's side hurt, and he realized he was exhausted. He looked down at the Joker's chest and saw a patch of dark blond hair and grinned.

"Last time I saw you, you didn't have a single hair on your chest," he murmured. He lay his head against the Joker's, closed his eyes and asked, "When did you stop loving me?"

A huff of exasperation. "Maybe I never did love you. Maybe I just liked the sex, and the money."

"You never gave a shit about my money. You never asked me for anything. I'd have given you whatever you wanted, anything. But, you didn't ask, you never even liked letting me pay for your meals--"

"How about you shut up?" the Joker said, nestling closer.

"Is that what this is all about--money? Are you holding me for ransom, do you need cash? Please, just tell me what you want and I can--"

"No, no, no, it's not that simple. I don't want your money, and the time hasn't come to reveal your purpose just yet. Relax. Can't you just lie back and enjoy the moment? Jeeze, I haven't gotten laid in months, you'd think--"

"I never stopped loving you. It's not too late, Jack. I know I can help you. Let me go, let's figure this out. If you'd turn yourself in, I'd get you the best lawyers... We'd make a case for insanity, they'd put you in psychiatric care. I bet you'd be out in a few years, I bet we could start over--"

"You always were the idealist. The answer is 'no.' Too late for that, Brucie. Too late."

"No--the man you killed on that video, that's the only murder that there's any evidence against you for. Even kidnapping Rachel, your mental state would be taken into account. We could show you weren't in your right mind--"

"Stop. Stop. Right mind? Listen--when I was a kid, I got caught breaking into a car. The owner surprised me, and he grabbed me and shoved me on the ground. I thought he'd beat the shit out of me, but he didn't. He just looked at me and said, 'It's not too late for you, kid. Don't ruin your life.' He made me promise I'd straighten up and he let me go. Well, let me tell you something. It was too late then. What's bred in the bone, and all that.

"Anyway, I tried, I really did. You know I did. What difference did it make? Some things just are. Doesn't matter how you try, what you do. Nothing matters. The ending's already written." He sighed and gathered Bruce closer. Bruce's heart felt as if it were breaking all over again, and he tried to think of something else to say, of some way to save this man. They lay there tangled together for a long time, then the Joker became restless and sat up.

"Hey, what's on TV at this hour? Let's take a look." He reached over Bruce for the remote and flicked on the set. Bruce was still weak from his wound, from blood loss, from sex, from stress. He settled against the Joker and gradually dozed, falling into a twilight state where he was half dreaming, half conscious. He heard the TV voices droning, a commercial, a sitcom, then a news feed. Stocks were down that quarter, Philly took the Mets 21-19, fifty percent chance of rain... Suddenly, he heard his name and he roused himself enough to cast a bleary eye toward the television.

"Billionaire Bruce Wayne, missing since Thursday, is now presumed dead. DNA evidence found in his house indicates that he was murdered. Police have in custody a Mr. Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne's longtime butler and the sole heir to his massive estate." Bruce stared in horror as footage of Alfred being brought out of the house in handcuffs and led to a police cruiser filled the television screen.

"Mr. Wayne's body has not yet been found, but police state that an informant suggested that Mr. Wayne's death may have been the result of a murder-for-hire plot put into motion by Mr. Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth has stated that he is innocent."

Bruce turned to the Joker. He was sitting up, pursing his lips together in barely contained glee. "What did you do?" he hissed from between gritted teeth.

"Me? Nothing! I've been right here, haven't I?"

Bruce twisted desperately against the unyielding steel restraints as the Joker erupted into peal after peal of maniacal laughter.