Harley Quinzel had never been driven by the pleasures of the flesh. She was a successful, career oriented young woman in a large city and men were not on her priority list… Following that closely, sex was not a priority either. It hardly ever came to mind — until he came to town. It was funny that her thoughts began to wander there, linger on thoughts of passionate romances and secret trysts in the night. Her harlequin romance novels no longer gathered dust. That was the first sign that something was up with her. It wasn't her fault, though, not really. She couldn't control who she was attracted to. She was a psychologist and she'd gotten very good at thinking her way out of her problems. Or at least, thinking her way away from them so they'd be easier to ignore.

Her pen tapped in a rhythmless tune on her coffee table as she stared at the book laid out in front of her. The text was small and black and the longer she looked at it the more it blurred together. She'd read this too many times to count. It was funny, though, none of it had ever mattered before now. Once she was assigned to a case so prominent, a case with no definitive diagnosis… She was suddenly obsessed with her work. It was almost unhealthy.

The Joker was a very fascinating specimen.

The fact that he wasn't easily diagnosed was something that was even more intriguing to a woman like her, who constantly had her nose buried in books about various mental disorders or serial killers. Everyone liked to call him a psychopath. Harley knew that wasn't true. She wasn't saying that there wasn't something wrong with him, she wasn't saying that he didn't have problems… But he did not fit the classification of a psychopath. Not at all. Sure, he fit a lot of the signs. Incapable of feeling guilt or remorse, knowing what is classified as wrong or right but not thinking it applied to them, superficial charm and high intelligence. Then there were things like the failure to follow a life plan. That could be considered true, saying that he had no real goal in his life, no specific thing he needed to attain, but he wasn't flying through life willy nilly. He had a goal… But the goal was to create chaos. It was almost completely contradictory. He didn't suffer from antisocial behavior, either. Of course, the Joker did not associate with friends, but he loved to talk. His charm was superficial, but the need to be around people… That was strong. He was the very concept of egotistical and narcissistic. The Joker could not stand not having an audience. He hated being alone.

Harley knew he didn't care about loneliness, but the loner attitude was not one found anywhere in the Joker's mentality. Then there was the lack of nervousness or neurotic manifestations. He wasn't nervous, per say, in fact he was overly confident, but… Those ticks he had. The constant licking of his lips, the pauses in all of his statements, the jerky movements. It wasn't nerves, but it was neurotic in an extreme. And then there was the one that Harley couldn't figure out.

An impersonal but active sex life. Throughout their sessions Harley had come to realize that the Joker was also not a man driven by lust. Sure, he would occasionally offer up a lewd comment or let his eyes travel along the length of her legs or focus on the low cut blouses she wore, but that wasn't because he was attracted to her, was it? No, probably not. He just wanted to make her uncomfortable… Right? Harley didn't really know anymore. Her own desires were influencing her thoughts and assumptions. She wasn't able to make a proper diagnoses anymore.

Harley crossed her legs up on her couch, dropping her forehead into her open palm as she flicked on her television. Maybe a documentary about her friend Dahmer would help. As she made her way to Netflix, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something was… Off. Harley stood slowly, looking behind her into her small kitchenette. Her tongue licked her lip uncomfortably as her stomach twisted. She walked slowly on bare feet towards the window, pulling it shut and flipping the latch. As she surveyed outside her apartment, the empty darkness did nothing to ease her panic. Sighing and rubbing her arms, she made her way to the front door, opening it up and looking down either side of the hallway with curiosity, seeing nothing. Just as she went to close the door, a foot slammed in to stop it and she gasped, jumping back. The door yanked open and Harley felt her stomach drop to her feet. "You -" She choked, and the man outside her apartment lunged, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her close to his chest, grabbing her mouth to keep her quiet as he shut the door and flipped the locks.

"Shh, now, shh," He hushed, stroking her hair. "You're gonna give yourself an ulcer with all this worrying."

He grabbed her again and spun her, pulling her to his chest and he looked down at her with a sly smile on his now painted lips. She could hardly breathe. "What makes you think I won't call the cops?" She asked breathlessly. He grinned lecherously down at her, gripping her hard by the shoulders.

"Because if you really wanted to, you'd be - uh - fighting a little harder," He sung in his high pitched, hypnotic voice. He giggled, and suddenly slammed her against the wall, leaning down to her face. His breath was hot on her skin.

She gritted her teeth bitterly. "What are you doing here?" She demanded. Her heart was racing and the blood in her veins was pumping fast in her adrenaline. She couldn't pinpoint which emotion was strongest. Fear? Anxiety? Want? She couldn't deny that his closeness and the smell of his breath was rising some unwanted emotions inside of her. There was a familiar tingling in her loins that she had started to feel everytime he was around.

He pouted at her but then he grinned wildly. "Is it a crime to want to see you, Doc?" He clucked his tongue on the 'c' loudly, making her flinch. Chuckling, he let go of her shoulders and began to walk around the room like he owned the place. He licked his lips loudly as his fingers trailed across this and that, making her stomach flip. DNA everywhere. Is that why he was doing it? "Nice place ya got here, Harleen."

"Mr. Joker," She said, her voice breathless and light. She didn't dare move from the wall where he'd left her, but she kept her eyes on him anxiously, watching every move he made. "I realize that we aren't in therapy," She continued and then cleared her throat. "But I would appreciate if you would still call me Dr. Quinzel."

He shook his head with a light laugh. "It just doesn't suit you… Ya know what does?" He asked, whipping around, his coat tail flipping behind him as he looked at her from across the room. "Harley Quinn." His voice was dark and intimidating and then suddenly switched to happy and cheerful. "Pretty, right?"

Harley Quinn. Harlequin? Her mouth was suddenly dry and it seemed that all the moisture had transferred to another orifice of her body. She took a breath as she stepped away from the wall, painfully aware of the uncomfortable way her panties were sticking to her sex. The Joker approached the coffee table, flipping curiously through her notes until finally he reached the notebook she'd just been writing on. She panicked. She'd just been writing about his sex life, practically! "Uh," She said, quickly, making a move to grab the notes from him but he stood fast, lifting them above his head. She grimaced. She would not give him the satisfaction of jumping for the notebook. Instead, she glowered at him with as much ferocity as she could manage.

He just laughed. "I'd never understood the expression 'you're cute when you're mad', but, uh, you are…" He licked his lips, smiling down at her lecherously. "Too adorable." Her stomach twisted again and her thighs moved together tightly without her permission. She prayed he didn't notice. Returning his attentions back to the notebook, he began to read aloud as he walked away from her, his hand thrown out in outlandish gestures. "I believe that while my patient, the Joker," He cleared his throat and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, speaking like he was reading something in parenthesis. "That's me," He murmured and she glared at him fiercely. He returned back to the notes and licked his lips. "Is not the definition of a psychopath. While he fits the majority of the blah, blah, blah," He began and Harley blinked, startled as he skimmed through the notes, uninterested until he reached the bottom of the page. His eyes widened and he looked over at her with waggling eyebrows. "I am not sure that the Joker is capable of feeling lust, even while he occasionally will offer up racy or bawdy comments, I believe he does it purely for the purpose of throwing me off my game." He enunciated carefully and clearly. Harley was gritting her teeth hard, her fists clenched at her sides as she stared at him. Her cheeks were flaming hot and she knew they were red with a blush.

"Are you done?" She hissed finally.

He threw the notebook onto the kitchen counter and shrugged, not once taking his eyes off of her. "I don't know… Am I?" She gave him a confused look and he licked his lips. "Any other notes about my sexuality I should see?" He asked, slowly walking forward.

Harley backed up, taking a gasping breath. "I wasn't writing that to be offensive," She whispered. "Really… Those were just my thoughts, I know they could be wrong…"

His head cocked to the side as he walked up to her slowly. She squealed as she tripped backward over her coffee table, landing on it with a thud and she groaned, sliding off the other side before he could approach her. "So, Harley," He purred thoughtfully. "It throws you off your game when I, uh, tell you how beautiful you look?" He asked, grinning wickedly. Harley swallowed, her breath coming faster. She could make a bolt for her bedroom right now. She could get in there before he could catch her and lock the door, climb out the window… Right? "I hope you don't mind if I say, then… That you look absolutely titillating tonight…" Harley's inner muscles clenched, the warmth of her wetness coming out in another strong gush into her underwear. She felt sweat gathering on her forehead. What was he trying to prove? Was he just trying to get a rise out of her for writing those comments? Or was he… Did he actually mean it? She looked down at her body. She wasn't wearing anything especially sexy tonight, just a pair of gray yoga pants and a red tank top. It was riding up her midriff gently and a pale slit of stomach was exposed. She realized in horror that she wasn't wearing a bra and that the evidence of her arousal was invitingly poking out through the thin material. With a gasp, she threw her arms over her breasts, trying to cover herself up. Her patient could not be seeing her this way!

The fact that he was, though…

Harley had never felt more aroused. Her eyes fluttered as her cheeks burned.

He giggled at her quickness to cover herself. "Embarrassed, Harl?" He tutted gently. "Don't worry, toots. Daddy likes you like this," He whispered. She hardly had time to realize that he'd just referred to himself as Daddy before he'd lunged and grabbed her by her throat, pushing her through the bedroom door and tossing her body roughly into the room, slamming the door behind them and throwing his hands up merrily. "What?" He growled. "Nervous? Is it the scars?" He giggled. "Or is it because you're just now starting to realize your notes are wrong." She backed away, trying to avoid the bed at all costs as her heart pounded frantically. "I'm human, Harley Quinn. My blood is red. And right now, I'm just going crazy seeing you in those PJs." He licked his lips lewdly and Harley whimpered, unable to hold back the sound of shock. What was he saying? He wanted her?

What was he going to do?

Harley was suddenly very terrified that her fantasy was about to become a reality. The Joker forced his coat off, hanging it neatly on the hook on her wall. As he walked past her, he began to pull off his glove. Finger by tantalizing finger. Her vision was almost blurring from how feverish she felt. "You can't be serious," Harley whispered, shaking her head, trying to convince him otherwise.

"Oh? Why not? Don't play dumb, Harley," He snarled, his voice turning sharp and violent, making her flinch. "I see the way you look at me. I see the way you've changed since we met. The way your skirts have gotten ever so slightly shorter, the panty hose darker, sexier, the shirts unbuttoned precariously, just aching for me to glance over and take a peak… And for what? You to say that I don't feel lust? After you've tried so hard?" She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"That isn't true," She whispered. "I've never -"

"Shut up," He growled, yanking off the other glove and forcing them in his pocket. "It may not be obvious to them, maybe not even to you, yet, but, Harley… I see everything. Now I've come to collect my prize," He whispered, coming towards her, and grabbing her violently by the hips. She screamed as he threw her across the way until she hit the bed and fell onto it, scrambling up to escape him. She was too late. The Joker was on top of here in half a second, forcing her head down on the pillows and crushing his lips against hers, manipulating her mouth with his. She stared at him with wide eyes, unable to respond to his advancements. She was too far in shock. The Joker opened his eyes as he kissed her, seeing hers were wide and staring and she felt him grin against her own mouth. When he pulled away, he took a large breath and whispered, "Taste better than I thought you would," He whispered. Harley wondered just how long he'd been wanting her. Had she really been teasing him the way he said she was? She hadn't realized it if she had. She was suddenly disgusted with herself for leading a patient on even if she didn't mean to. Slacks from now on.

If she survived the night. With a sob, she voiced the plea she'd been wanting to make all night. "Please don't kill me!"

He looked terribly confused and she knew it was most likely insincere but she couldn't help feel slightly comforted that he didn't start laughing. Instead, he coddled her, stroking her face, her hair and talking in a sweet voice. "Oh, Harl, I don't wanna kill you!" Her relief was short lived when he finished his thought. "I'm not into fucking corpses." She gasped and he yanked at the fabric of her tank top, jerking it up over her bare breasts and they bounced as he freed them. He licked his lips as they fell unrestrained on either side of her chest. While one hand pinned her down by her throat, the other shockingly warm hand squeezed her breast much tenderly than she ever could have imagined.

She whimpered, turning her head to look away from the disturbing sight of the Joker groping her breasts, his thumb stroking over her nipple. She held back a moan by biting her tongue sharply, making her wince. "Sensitive?" He purred.

"Please," She whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, landing on the pillow beneath her.

"Hm?" He murmured, leaning down and licking the salty tears from her flushed skin.

"Please stop." She hated how pathetic her voice sounded. Why couldn't she be strong around him? Confident? "Leave… I don't care where you go, just… Leave," She begged.

He frowned, grabbing her chin and making her look at him. "I don't think thats true… I think you'd miss me," He hissed. His hips thrusted against her belly as he said, "Very. Much." When she felt the thickness of his erection in his pants, she knew she'd terribly misread him. He felt lust, alright. He just didn't act on it unless he really wanted to. And he really wanted to. "Don't worry, baby," He breathed into her ear, his hand pawing at her breast again. "I'll go easy on you."

"I don't want this!" She screamed. "I thought you were better than this! You're above rape, aren't you?" She was trying to talk him down, making him rethink this. His ego was so large, maybe she had to hit him where it hurt… That's what she thought, at least. Until he started laughing.

"Oh, honey, sweetie… This is not rape." He popped the p loudly and she looked at him with a disgusted face, hating him in this moment and hating herself even more for wanting him so badly at the same time. "I'm here to acquiesce."

"No matter what you say, I know this is for you," Harley growled, jerking against his grip.

His face molded into something demonic, furious and utterly erotic. "I think I can prove you wrong, girl." She didn't understand what he meant until his hands roughly started to pull her pants down her bottom, her thong in his grip, too. She kicked against him, humiliation making her skin flush down her neck and chest. No! He couldn't! She was so terribly wet, if he found out… It would all be over. As he yanked them from her ankles, she tried to roll away from him but he grabbed her hard, jerking her legs open and digging his fingers into her muscles roughly. "Oh, shh," He soothed, but as his hand travelled down her body to her sex, she whimpered loudly and the smile on his face only grew. Oh, this couldn't be happening. Harley cried, humiliated and exhausted from fighting. When she felt his fingertips trailing teasingly down the inside of her thigh, she jerked in surprise. His fingers tickled and rose goosebumps across her skin. When he finally reached her outer lips, he began to giggle darkly, his finger circling and circling her entrance, touching her swollen, pouting pussy very lightly until he finally reached the soaking wet hole itself.

Staring into her eyes and commanding her entire attention, he smiled widely, his finger jamming into her with no warning and she moaned, her back arching as her fists clenched. "There," He chuckled. "Not so hard, hm?"

"Stop," She begged.

He giggled. "You're right," He purred. "I'm not into beds either." Grabbing her by the hair he jerked her up, pushing her body against the balcony door. The sliding door was a large panel of glass and the curtains were hanging open, providing a perfect view of her naked body to anyone who bothered to look. She tried to cover herself but he didn't let her, slamming her back against the glass, pinning her as his hand moved to his fly. She sobbed with closed eyes as she tried to squirm away but he just laughed at her attempts as he removed his thick, hard cock from his slacks. When she opened her eyes and looked down she felt her pussy warm up again as her juices began to flow. He was so big. The head was large and blushing scarlet, a prominent vein here and there visible from the strain of the soft skin. It's girth was massive and she felt dizzy from the idea of having that inside of her. Grabbing one leg, he hiked it up over his hip and she whimpered as he jerked up the other, balancing her against the glass. Weakly, her head dropped forward to his shoulder. She was too tired, too defeated emotionally to do anything more than cry. That, and wait.

He chuckled, kissing her hair and whispered gently, "Oh, precious girl." She shuddered wildly in his arms as she felt his cock probing her entrance. Her tears were loud and wet, staining his shirt but he didn't care. He was too in the moment to even notice. She felt almost sick from her desire. He was not gentle as he pushed himself inside of her and she screamed, biting down on his shoulder as roughly as possible. He moaned gently and she couldn't tell if it was from his cock being sheathed inside of her or from the bite. He started thrusting as suddenly as he'd pushed in, his hips working like pistons as they violently took her, violating her most private area. The Joker was fucking her against her window! How had this happened?

She could hardly think, unable to even hear her own sobs over the sound of his heavy breathing in her ear as his cock slid in and out of her tight walls. Her pussy was hugging him tightly, the slick canal just desperate for him to be inside of her.

She was more than just ashamed.

A few more thrusts inside of her and a squeeze of her bottom and the Joker gave up his restraint, speaking in her ear for the first time since he'd entered her. "So wet, and so tight… Ooh, girl," He growled. "This is what I've been missing all these months?" She sniffled and moaned as he hit her cervix painfully with the head of his shaft. "I need to pay you visits more often."

"No," She sobbed loudly, but it came out as Oh, only urging him on to slam home harder. His pelvis rubbed against her hooded clitoris with each stroke of his cock inside of her and she was disturbed to feel the beginnings of an orgasm. No… No, no no, this couldn't happen! She couldn't give him the satisfaction! "Joker!" She screamed suddenly, desperate to get him off, slamming her fists on his chest, making his laughs vibrate strangely.

"That's it, Harl, scream for me," He hissed. He grunted as he balanced her weight on one arm and the other hand reached around to grab hold of her lips and jerked up, stroking her clit roughly and she screamed. It was like he could read her thoughts. How had he known to touch her there now?

"Stop," She begged. "Please!" She was grabbing his shirt in her fists now, her head leaning against the glass, defeated.

He grunted, sliding into her quicker and harder. "Yeah, baby," He growled. "That's it. Then you can tell yourself you were innocent, once it's over." More tears spilled over her cheeks and she sniffled wildly. He was right. He was so right, about everything. About her. She had wanted him all this time, and she wanted him now, and that was why she was so distraught, so in pain. She was ashamed of herself. The pleasure of his cock pounding into her swollen, needy depths was too much for her and she couldn't help but cry out a strangled moan. He groaned in response to her pussy clenching down on him. "Are you coming, Harley?" He shouted.

She couldn't respond with words, but he didn't need her to reply. As she writhed against him, her back arching and her fluids drowning his aching cock, he laughed. That was all the answer he needed. Harley was lifeless once her orgasm faded, tears still falling down her cheeks but unable to refuse him anymore. She'd already came. It was useless now. He grabbed her body up in his arms, carrying her back to the bed and laid her down on the edge, raising her leg over his shoulder, leaning over her and staring straight into her eyes. "Oh, Miss Quinn," He purred. "I'm going to come for you…"

She whimpered and he relished in the sound, tilting his head back as his cock tried to get deeper and deeper into her. When he finally began to empty himself inside of her, her lips parted. Oh, why did it have to feel so good? His seed was hot and thick, and he refused to pull out until every drop was buried deep inside of her. A throaty chuckle met her ears as he breathed hard, recovering from his powerful orgasm. His hips still moved slowly inside of her. Her breathing was just as hard as his, gasping and rough.

"Miss Quinn," He purred, stroking her cheek. "Maybe you should, uh… Put that in your notes."