Hi there! Just a couple of things to point out before I begin. First off, I didn't associate the genre 'Romance' with this fic because, to me, there is no romance when it comes to the Joker. In this story, for example, he's more so screwing with Rachel's mind than simply making "love" to her. Secondly, and lastly, I have rated this short, possibly two-chapter fic 'M' for sex, violence, and, mainly, because of Joker-y goodness.
I hope you enjoy! :D
No sound except for their heavy breathing.
No sight whatsoever.
It was pitch black. It had been that way for awhile now so their eyes were used to nothingness.
The strange thing was how well the Joker knew her. Every crevice, every weak spot. He licked and bit her, leaving no fold of skin or tuft of hair untouched; spending extra time on the places she held dear. She made little noises when his tongue brushed her clit, quickly turning into gnawing and chewing.
They fumbled around in the darkness, knocking over an assortment of indistinguishable objects. Soon, they were up against the only door that took a person inside her apartment. She was trying desperately to balance herself. The Joker laughed at her - a low, taunting giggle. She squeezed her eyes shut, making herself known to the pretty, flashing lights that settled against a charcoal backdrop underneath her eyelids. She felt his fingers snaking their way inside, and her lips parted as rhythmic cries escaped through her teeth.
Her hair was coming undone. She felt wisps slap her cheeks, and then her whole left side fell to pieces. She clutched his back and rubbed her hindquarters against the door, the smoothness feeling odd, accustomed to the Joker's rough touch within her canal. He heightened the movement of his fingers, and she licked her chops as the length of his nails became much more prevalent. They were tangled with her, scratching and drawing blood. It drooled from her, and though she couldn't tell, knew it traveled down his hand as he went faster. Her soft tissue was irritated and felt swollen. She bled more, and the reality of it frightened her. "Stop... stop," she faintly whispered. The pain gave her a swift and unanticipated kick to the head.
"Oh... I'm sorry, Ms. Dawes. I thought maybe you had started your monthly cycle," the Joker stated sarcastically. "Mother Nature sure likes to screw with human beings, doesn't she?" He suddenly stopped. She could see the outline of his body, and then she heard annoying clicking sounds. It resembled someone chewing food with their mouth open.
Rachel hated that.
She finally realized what he was doing. He was licking the fingers that had shoveled out her blood. She could still feel it running down her legs.
He was on her again, and her heart throbbed at his abruptness. He took her by the shoulders and pinned her to the hardwood floor. He was a shiver as he slithered up her body. "What an inconvenience," he muttered hotly into her ear. He could have been referring to his earlier comment about Mother Nature or he could be pondering something Rachel would never understand.
The Joker's hard-on was quite obvious, however. She felt it then, at an awkward angle near her face. His thighs were constricting her, squashing her, gluing her to the floor. Her shoulder blades dug into the hard surface beneath her.
"Watch the teeth," the Joker told her. Rachel began sucking animatedly on his head. His salt was quenching her hunger. He groaned a little and said, "On second thought, Rachelll... Let yourself go. You're so... uptight. No wonder Dent doesn't pay attention anymore. You have the gums of an elderly woman."
Rachel instantly pierced the Joker's volatile flesh with her molars. She forced him underneath her and he snickered. People were so easy.
"Now there's the shiny toy I bought!" the Joker exclaimed. "And all this time, I had thought your batteries had run out of juice. Your willpower is... disappointing, Rachel."
Rachel let go of him, puzzled. Was she satisfying him or letting him down?
And how was he talking in complete sentences without having to take gigantic breaths?
Rachel couldn't believe she was worried about impressing a psychopath. She was never this harried when it came to Harvey or Bruce.
She removed herself from him and the situation, thinking the unusual spark they had created died out. Suddenly, she felt his fingers coil around her wrist and something cool against her throat. He must have grabbed his knife that had fallen on the floor before their unexpected encounter had occured.
How did he know the darkness of her apartment so well?
"Ahhh ta ta ta. You're not finished yet, Rachel... In fact, I think it's time we play this game my way. Don't you agree?"
Weren't they already?
Wasn't that how it always worked?
"I'll take your predictable silence as a 'Yes, Mr. Joker. I'm your slave. Do with me as you please.' Am I right, or am I right?" Then he slammed Rachel into the door, blade still attached to her skin. She shut her eyes, feeling so many different emotions that she couldn't decide which was the dominant one. He began cutting her, stroking her hair at the same time.
For once in her life, Rachel couldn't think. She didn't understand what was going on. She remembered him breaking into her apartment while she was taking a shower. She had no idea how he broke in without getting noticed. Sure it was two o'clock in the morning and there were mostly old people on her floor, but there were security cameras everywhere.
He probably killed someone or something with that silent, eerie, influential way of his. And that thing was possibly the one and only witness. He would have made sure of that.
Then she had stepped out of the shower, expecting certainty. Nowadays, she took her shower that late, sometimes later, because it was the only time she could. She always had her hair up because it got in her face easily. She always had the TV on so she could walk out, not feeling so alone. Not lonely. She wasn't depressed. She just liked to hear the sound of peoples' voices, even if they were artificial. All the lights were always on because she hated darkness. Literal darkness. She could deal with criminals. They were easier to handle than the uncontrollable nature that the dark swallowed and spit back out.
Rachel had been met by silence, darkness, and a figure sitting on the chair in her living room, from what she could make out, toying with the remote.
She had no clue how to react. She didn't scream. She just stood with nothing but a towel wrapped around her. She hadn't moved a muscle.
"Rachelll..." drawled that familiar voice, colliding with her from deep within the uneasy abyss. "The apartment complex you live in has terrible security. And it's so high-end. Tsk, tsk. What a shame. Oh well. That's good ol' reliable Gotham for ya."
Rachel still couldn't move. She felt like she was part of the floor; part of the building. But not part of the crowd. She wasn't necessarily afraid. She hadn't been afraid at Harvey's fundraiser either. Just hopeful. Hopeful that it would be all over soon. She honestly didn't know how she felt. Confused, perhaps.
"Hmmm... I'm not enjoying the silence, Rachel. That part should come later, after I've killed you... Plus, aren't you lawyer types always so talkative? Always trying to prove a pointless point? Hmmm?"
Rachel didn't respond. She had thought of several clever retorts, but her vocal chords felt unattached from her body. Her brain wasn't sending the right signals.
The Joker suddenly got up - she could hear that little squeak the chair made. He didn't move toward her - she felt nothing surrounding her nor did she hear the sound of footsteps.
"Well, I feel quite unwelcome! Is this how you always treat your guests?" He sighed. "I guess I'll simply tell you why I'm here since you're not making this fun at all. If you were a normal person, you'd be on your knees right now, begging for mercy... Ahhh well. You seem like a pretty reasonable woman, Rachel. Would you mind, ah... sending the bat a message for me?"
"You're here to kill me," Rachel said aimlessly. She heard nothing from the other end of the line for about thirty seconds. Then he began to laugh.
"So you're not broken! I thought I was going to have to return you for something else! Huh... I'm almost regretting my, well, plans for you, Rachel. You're the smarter of the Floundering Four."
"Four?" she questioned. She could only think of three: Batman, Harvey, and herself.
"Keep up, Ms. Dawes! You, Batsy Pants, Dent, and Gooordooon. Gordon's mind seems like it would be a fun one to mess with, don't ya think? Dissect it? Maybe it would be a little too... effortless, though. Cops are narrow minded. I would feel pretty claustrophobic walking through the folds of his cranium... You, on the other hand... Why do you turn all of the lights on in your apartment, hmmm? Are you afraid of something? Do you keep your television on in order to deplete more of your brain cells while mindlessly touching yourself in the shower? You're wasting electricity, Ms. Dawes. Aren't you an activist for that sort of thing? The act you put on is not very convincing, sweet cheeks." Footsteps. Rachel's throat was cold as she felt fingers lightly tap the outside. She swallowed hard, thinking about the future. Her future. How he would kill her.
"Not gonna talk now, huh? Let's see if I know you as much as you know me." Rachel didn't know him at all, and she had no indication of what he was hinting at. Rapidly, she felt her towel being torn into. He must have pulled out his knife.
That was the only predictable move he had made. And even that held some perplexity.
Bare hands gripped her bare breasts. Rachel was disquieted, especially when she felt her nipples harden almost instantly into a sharp point. He must have felt it immediately, too, because right away he said, "Well well well. Seems as though I've misjudged you, Ms. Dawes. You've always come across as the afraid-of-the-virtually-harmless-dark, rod-of-the-status-quo-shoved-deep-into-the-confines-of-her-ass, prissy fuss of a pathetic excuse for a justice-seeker type. But now I find that... hard... to believe!" More laughter at an awful, unnecessary joke. Rachel couldn't tell whether he was mocking her, or complimenting her in his own twisted way. Or both.
And that was around the time that he had dropped his knife and they started to fool around. It just... happened. There was no explanation, warning, want, need, cause, or use for it. But... Rachel would never admit that she did savor the jagged feel of him all over her; searching her; probing her. And she reveled in how snugly his cock had fit inside her mouth. Imaginably, she gave that all away without even trying. The Joker may not have any social skills whatsoever, but he was excellent at reading people and interpreting their actions.
Rachel wished she could steal some of that talent so she could do her job more sufficiently than she already was. But wishes were callow and inane forms of false hope parents gave their children so that they weren't all to blame for the way their child may or may not have turned out.
Now she felt blood dripping from her neck instead of in between her legs. She kept her eyes closed and waited. Waited for the Joker's next move.
That's all anyone could do. All anyone could think to do.
Simultaneously, Rachel felt his tongue wash over her tiny and fresh wound, lapping up the concealed blood, and his dick firmly push its way inside of her. Her eyes shot open and she screamed as loud as she could muster without being too loud. She may have been surprised, but she wasn't stupid. He would kill her right then if she so much as whispered to the emptiness of the third floor.
She had accepted Death. It had happened sometime during their fumbling. But, like any normal person, she wanted as much time on Earth as possible - even though the world was detestable.
The Joker ground himself against the split weight within. Rachel whimpered, and yet she still found ecstasy in their train wreck. His tongue felt delicious against her warm liquid scantily oozing from her neck. And the way he let her hair fall was pure bliss. His nails got caught and he had to tug a few times, but that was insignificant.
Without warning, he put an end to everything and within a few moments, his hand was forcing her head up by her hair and his knife moved to her cheek. Rachel felt the blade digging again, but now, the Joker was slicing from the right corner of her mouth, upward. Blood sneaked its way past her lips and down her esophagus. She began choking.
Rachel felt his presence disappear. She tried with all of her might to breathe, and finally gained some of her composure as she slid down the door. She heard him gathering his clothes, laughing, terrifyingly silent. He then stood next to the door, next to her. She felt his hand jiggle the doorknob.
"Wait..." Rachel struggled.
"Yes, Ms. Dawes?" the Joker questioned, a barely noticeable dash of curiosity tinting his voice.
"Aren't you... going... to... finish?" Rachel wheezed.
More laughter. "Oh honey. There's a reason I only gave you half a smirk. Because I'm only half done! But don't you worry your pretty little face. I'll finish you off sooner or later!" And with that, he was gone. Rachel had fallen to the side, forced out of the way. Her breathing was hitched.
She saw darkness, heard silence, and felt pathetic and useless.
She would rather be dead.
So, what do you think? Should I make this a two-chapter dealio? Feedback feeds my soul. :D
Oh, and if you're looking for my inspiration for this chapter (music fuels pretty much all of my writing), look up The Curse by Diary Of Dreams and basically anything by Juliana Hatfield. Diary Of Dreams helped with the helplessness and Juliana aided in the confusion Rachel felt.
Thank you so much, and I look forward to hopefully writing the next chapter! :D