Her lips barely grazed the soft skin of his lips before she lowered herself back into her chair across the table from him. A wicked smile spread itself across her face, her gaze coming from underneath hooded eyelids. She kept her stare trained on his features, unwavering.
"Do you like that, baby boy?" her voice melted in his ears, wrapping around him as she settled into her chair as much as she could. The straight jacket fastened around her slim body wasn't lending much to her comfort.
He moved his mouth, but no words spilled out. He seemed to be in a trance, trapped inside his own mind. The smile on her face grew even bigger, if that was even possible.
"Cat got your tongue, pretty boy? I didn't know you were treating Selina too," she smirked, a glint of playfulness in her eyes. "I thought I was special? I thought I was your only patient?"
He fumbled for words again. It's like his mind had stopped all function, deeming basic motor skills unnecessary. But his heart still beated wildly hidden behind flesh and ribs, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"You are," he finally stuttered out, pushing all of the oxygen in his lungs out with the words.
Her smile took an even more sinister curve at one corner, her body leaning forward just slightly. "Good," she cooed in a soft tone, her eyes burning into his, "Because I don't like sharing my things. I don't… Let's just say, I don't play well with others."
He knew he should be taking notes. He knew he should be watching her every move, deciphering what it all could possibly mean. That was his job. But right now, he was falling apart. She had him hooked, locked under her hypnotic spell. And there was nothing he could do to rip himself from her grasp. Each day, he fell more and more underneath her power.
With each passing day, though, he began to realize that he… liked it. It was like he craved for their sessions to finally roll around, so he could finally be in her presence again. He counted down the minutes religiously until the door would open and in would walk his pale, yet still colorful, beauty. Nothing rivaled her, nothing came close to the perfection that sat in front of him.
Despite having spent months within the walls of Arkham, her hair still curled perfectly around her elongated face. Her lackluster skin still shone brightly even after the months spent away from the sun. Perfectly kissable red lips that were almost always stretched into an impossibly wide smile… But he was getting ahead of himself. What sat before him was utter perfection, there was no other way to put it.
"Getting lost in your thoughts, my little pet?" she mused in a childlike tone despite the implication of her words, "I thought you were supposed to be digging through my head, not yours?"
"Oh, I-I'm sorry," he murmured, not wanting to entirely to push away all of his thoughts, "I was just thinking."
"Well, I can see that. You might be the doctor in this relationship, but I still have some brain cells left up in this crazy mind o' mine. I'm not completely gone... yet," she chuckled, leaning back in her chair and proceeding to look over the doctor in front of her.
"I didn't mean-" he began but was almost immediately cut off by a knock on the door. Their daily session was over. He looked down at the notepad in front of him, blank lines staring backup at him. His heart fell slightly further into his stomach, but he tried his hardest to hide his emotions.
"Time's up, Dr. Quinzel," a guard grunted, coming into the room and wrapping a massive hand tightly around his patient's arm, jerking her up from the chair.
Suddenly, a fire burned deep inside his stomach, angered by the guard's actions. A stern expression crept onto his features, standing up and stepping in front of the guard. A look of surprise on the guard's face flashed before quickly fading away, replaced by an annoyed one.
"Dr. Quinzel, please step out of the way. This piece of dirt needs to get back to her cell," he grunted again, his voice gruff and disgusting. Not sugary sweet like hers.
"I will not stand for this kind of treatment of my patient, guard. You are in no position to decide how she is to be handled so I expect you to listen to me," he spat, lacing as much venom and disdain into his voice as he could muster. "Don't make me report you to Dr. Arkham for abuse of patients."
A spark of fear lit behind the guard's eyes, startled by this sudden change in the doctor's demeanor. But his lovely, sweet patient just continued to smile at him, seeming pleased with his reaction to the way the guard handled her.
"Yes, Dr. Quinzel. I'll be sure to take more care next time," he sputtered, unable to make eye contact with him.
"Good. And make sure to tell all your guard buddies the same thing. I will not hesitate to report every single last one of you brutes," he said, holding his chin up slightly to give off an air of superiority over the lowly guard.
"Yes, sir," the guard muttered, keeping his head down.
He finally moved out of the guard's way, but as the two walked past, she bumped into him, her head bouncing softly off of his muscled chest and muttering something as the guard gently pulled her away from him.
"Until next time, pumpkin pie!" she called out as they escorted her down the halls back to her cell, the sounds of her laughter echoing off the walls and resonating throughout the entire institution.
Most would shudder at a sound like that, but not him. No, he relished in the sound of it, letting it wrap around him and hold him tight within its warm embrace.
Later that evening as he was sitting in his office, he finally was able to figure out what she had whispered to him after she bumped into him at the end of their session. Check your pocket, sweetie. He lifted a shaking hand up to the small pocket on his lab coat, finding a small sheet of folded paper tucked in there. How did that get it there? Slowly, he pulled it out and unfolded it, revealing the message hidden inside.
"Always such a good boy for Mommy," was scribbled hastily across the paper.
A smile spread itself across his face. He vaguely wondered how she managed to hide this in his pocket, but that didn't matter as much as the message itself. She was proud of him.