DISCLAIMER: This is based on characters from Chris Nolan's Dark Knight. I own none of the characters and make no money from this story.

A/N: This is kind of AU. I started out with this as a one-shot but a couple of reviews persuaded me to continue; so, a few future chapters will be devoted to developing the story. I'd love feedback!!

Following a bruising fistfight, Batman trailed the Joker to his current lair, a cheap, sleazy hotel room high above the streets of Gotham. They were traveling via rooftops and fire escapes; the Joker was aware of his pursuer and could have eluded him with a little extra effort, but he no longer cared. He was tired. Life held no further promises for the criminal; there was nothing to look forward to.

Batman confronted his prey on the narrow ledge outside the window of the Joker's room. Their eyes locked, both studies in grim determination. The Joker turned at the last possible moment and made a move to jump off the steep building.

Batman managed to grab the collar of his overcoat in a lightening fast gesture; he locked his other arm into the open window frame for support. Tediously, he pulled the struggling madman into the relative safety of his room.

"Why'd ya hafta do that, Bats?" the Joker asked, panting, in disgust. "I was ready to go…and it was so nice to have an audience." He swiped at a trickle of blood draining from the side of his mouth. Batman had gotten a few good shots in before the Joker took flight….

"I won't be a party to your self-destruction…you're going to face justice, I'm here to see to that," Batman promised.

The Joker laughed maniacally. "You'll see me in hell before I let you take me in, Batman…" The killer pulled a dagger out of his trousers and lunged at his opponent.

Batman caught his arm and forced him back against a blank wall. The two men struggled mightily, but finally, Batman's greater strength overcame the Joker's iron will, and the knife dropped to the floor. They continued the match, however, two bodies pressed closer than imaginably possible, a struggle for control…sweating and shaking, the Joker tried to free himself from Batman's grasp, but before he could either make a final strength-draining effort, or even to give in and give up, he was stunned to find the other man's strong jaw working hard against his mouth in a passionate kiss.

The Joker froze for a moment, his mind shifting into overdrive. What the hell…? Then he adapted, as he always did…and returned the deep, exploratory kiss. Two sets of hands began moving over bodies that were complete opposites—one a willowy, cat-like creature, made for stealth and sneakiness; the other, a solid, muscular tank of a man, built for power and fortitude.

Batman broke the clench, and took the Joker's head roughly in his hands.

"Damn you, you freak…what are you doing to me?" he asked, his voice raw and raspy.

"Uh…I don't think I was trying to do anything to you, aside from plunging a knife into your belly. You seem to want to do things to me, however…is that right?" the Joker asked with amusement, tinged with newfound lust. "Because, I'm into that…if you are."

Batman summoned some strength from deep within himself, and pulled away, holding his hands in the air as if he had just come into contact with some contaminant.

"NO! No. It's just…back in the interrogation room…I felt something…I didn't understand it, and I still don't, but…"

"Oh, Batsy, deep down, you kinda like me, don't ya?" the Joker asked with mock sympathy. "Well, I like you, too. Now, why don't you take your little mask off, and let's see what happens…" The Joker reached for Batman's face, and his mask. Batman slapped his hand away.

"Forget it. The last thing I need is to have you advertising my true identity to the world...."

"Oh, come on, Bats! I wouldn't do that…for one thing, no one would believe me. I'm the Clown Prince of Crime, remember? They'll just think I'm trying to cause trouble…and anyway, your secret will always be safe with me…you know I'm telling the truth, because, actually…I've know for some time…who you really are…Bruce." The name came as a delicate whisper of truth.

Batman gasped, stricken. How had he discovered…? He realized the Joker was right. If he'd known all along and never disclosed his secret, what did he have to fear now?

"Ok…I guess it doesn't matter any more…" Bruce Wayne opened the clasp that secured his mask and cowl and slipped them off. The Joker smiled in appreciative approval.

"Oh, much better! Not that there isn't a certain…appeal to being taken by a man in a mask, but, no, I like this better, much better." The Joker eased away from Bruce and headed to his creaky, iron-framed hotel bed.

He began undressing, slipping out of his heavy overcoat, his jacket, his tie and vest…Bruce watched apprehensively.

"W-wait, what do you think you're doing?" he asked disapprovingly.

"You gonna fuck me while I'm fully dressed? Now, that's kinky…." The Joker turned to look at Bruce, grinning.

"I'm not gonna do…that…at all, you miserable pervert." Bruce asserted.

"Yeah? Well, you sure seemed interested a few minutes ago…what are you, a coward?" the Joker taunted.

"Coward! That's bullshit. What do you think I'm afraid of?"

"I don't know, your true nature? What you really want?" The Joker continued to take off clothing—there was a lot—but finally got down to his black under shorts. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared balefully at Bruce.

"Come on, Bruce…you have so many rules…try breaking one, for once…it'll be fuuun…" the Joker's voice took on a teasing, sing-song tone.

Bruce stood, undecided. The Joker was so oddly appealing to him…his lank hair falling across his brow, his slim frame, so recently struggling in his arms…it was easy to imagine a different kind of struggle.

"Ok…I guess you're right…I shouldn't be afraid to try something new…" Bruce mused out loud.

"Good. Now, take off that ridiculous outfit and come here." The Joker didn't have all day to romance the guy…he still had suicide on his mind.

Bruce did as he was told, and when he was down to his shorts, the Joker slipped out of his underwear and lay down on his back, parting his legs invitingly.

"Ok, Bruce. Don't worry, one little round in the sack with me isn't going to turn you queer," the Joker assured him.

"Yeah, hopefully, it'll have the opposite effect…" said Bruce, grimly.

The Joker laughed, and yanked the last shred of defense between them down to his knees.

Bruce knelt between the Joker's thighs, and started to try to figure out what exactly he needed to do, when the Joker held his hand against Bruce's chest in a "wait a minute" gesture. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and brought out a tube of lubricant.

"I like it rough, but I'm not a masochist," he explained simply to Bruce, as he slathered a generous portion of the gel onto Bruce's erection. "Ok, go ahead," he directed, spreading his legs accommodatingly. Bruce was amazed at the matter-of-fact attitude of his new bed partner.

He tried to focus, finding the Joker's tight entrance, and gave a tentative push. "Oh, come on, Bruce, do it like you mean it!" urged the Joker, in equal parts frustration and amusement. "Fuck me! Hard…" his bright brown eyes were boring into the bigger man's and Bruce realized whatever tenderness he might feel toward the lustful creature below him was wasted and unnecessary.

Bruce gave a considerably more direct effort, pushing himself deep into the Joker's warm, eager body, and was rewarded by an equally strong upward thrust from the Joker's hips. It only took a few exploratory thrusts for Bruce to find the proper angle and to establish a mutually pleasurable pace, and soon the ancient bedsprings were singing a creaky song, while the rusty iron headboard was enthusiastically drumming a fast, powerful rhythm into the thin hotel room wall, a debauched symphony of lust and desire.

The Joker lay under his former nemesis, deeply enjoying not only the sex, which was very satisfying, but the delicious irony of the situation. Here he was, giving apparent pleasure to the very man who most wanted to lock him away forever….

The Joker liked this position…he liked it a lot. Legs wrapped around his lover, being penetrated so hard and so deeply that each thrust was a powerful stroke building to his release, the angle perfect for stimulating his prostate.

It was known as a passive position, but the Joker didn't feel passive; he was thrusting back with equal enthusiasm, using his arms to grasp his lover tightly, using the nails of his hands to dig into soft, sweaty skin, using his teeth to bite hard into his shoulder, causing Bruce to gasp in pleasure. He liked it that Bruce took a moment every so often to kiss him deeply as he continued to rock into his body, making them one.

As for Bruce, pumping away on top, he tried to avoid looking down into the face of the man he had just so recently been intent on brutally subduing. The sight of his depraved lover made him feel shame; but as he couldn't help but look, he became aware of a keen excitement that started in the depths of his groin and spread like heat to his very fingertips and toes. He liked the Joker's dark eyes on him, his mouth working in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the inappropriate laughter that wanted to escape as Bruce's deep strokes occasionally hurt, but mostly pleasured him.

The Joker took his own erection into his hand and began to give himself additional stimulation; Bruce looked down and watched for a moment, fascinated. He looked at the Joker's face, his eyes now closed, a study in concentration as he worked toward orgasm, and tried to imagine what he looked like without the ugly greasepaint. His features were attractive and Bruce suspected he might even be handsome. Just then, the Joker cried out in release, and his semen shot out onto his own body. The thick, creamy liquid was instantly smeared between them as Bruce lowered himself onto him again.

"Bruce…that was so damn good…come on, babe, it's your turn…" The Joker's encouragement wasn't entirely selfless, his legs were beginning to ache from being held apart for so long, and his entrance was beginning to feel the effects of Bruce's powerful ongoing friction; he wondered if Bruce was close, or if he needed to ask him to take a break for more lube and maybe a change of position….

The Joker was grateful when Bruce gave a few extra-hard, fast strokes and tensed up in readiness; Bruce groaned from deep within himself, and ejaculated into the heat of the Joker's lithe body, straining to finish as deep within his lover's tight channel as possible. When he was done, he slowly pulled out and rolled over, next to the Joker. The two young men lay quietly, neither touching the other now, neither knowing what to say.

Finally, the Joke intoned "Well, Bruce, I think you accomplished what you set out to do, rules-wise. Plus, I won't be able to walk, or even sit down, for a few days…that should help you get the jump on me…" he looked over at Bruce to see if he would laugh, and he was rewarded with a brief smile and an amazed shake of the head.

"I really do hate you, you know…" Bruce confided, affectionately.

"I know." The Joker slipped over closer to him and wrapped his arms around him. "I hear visiting hours at Arkham go until 8:00 pm—will you come and see me?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah…I guess I will," said Bruce, reluctantly. "How else will I get to break more rules?"

The Joker smiled and closed his eyes. He was still tired. But maybe there was something to look forward to, after all.