title: Possession

pairing: The Joker (The Dark Knight) / Harley Quinn (Suicide Squad)

rating: T

disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Some things are canon, some aren't. I've been working on a fic about the beginning of the Joker and Harley's relationship, and therefore you may find traces of that story in this one.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think! :)

Possession

Naked and languid after their lovemaking, she lay on their rumpled bed, her slender limbs draped over the sides, as she watched him smear white face paint across his brow. He did not pay her any attention, concentrated on his handiwork, his reflection in the mirror reminding her that he did not really belong to her. He did not need her as much as she needed him, his mind preoccupied with revealing the true nature of every self-righteous poster child who crossed his path, his life devoted to exposing the lies which made the world go around. She rose to her feet, drawn to him like a moth to the flame, and slipped on his shirt, her nimble fingers doing up only two buttons, as she tiptoed across the cold floor. Her arms slid around his neck from behind, and she leaned down against his strong frame while he was sitting in the chair in front of the makeshift vanity which had been put together especially for her. His gaze found hers in the mirror, the warmth of his body comforting, her kiss-bruised lips at his ear.

"I love you," she whispered, no longer hoping to hear the words in return, his self-satisfied smirk a familiar response to her confession. He was fickle and passionate, his mercurial nature an obstacle she could not surmount, yet she loved him with abandon that bespoke madness, with every beat of her reckless heart and every breath she drew. She succumbed to him against reason, yielding her lissome body and supple mind to his whims, his name tattooed across her hipbone as a sign of ownership. He knew his henchmen had been lusting after her, but he was not the sharing type; he would rather kill than let any other man touch her, and she reveled in his possessiveness, certain that he loved her too. They had been together for a couple of months, her old life discarded in favor of crime and passion, the scars across her wrists fading with each day, just like the memory of a sharp blade slicing her veins open. She had not wanted to live without him, and now she could not, addicted to him as she was, her breast constricting at the mere thought of losing him. She wished to mark him as hers like he had done to her, yet she knew he would not allow that in a fit of cruel detachment, his pride driving him away from her despite her fervent pleas.

"Get dressed. We've work to do." His commanding tone sent a shiver down her spine, yet she refused to bend to his will, if only for a moment, her embrace insistent. He rolled his eyes at her, his paint-stained fingers curling around her pale forearms, as he pried her arms from around him and pulled her into his lap, the fabric of his pants coarse against her bare thighs. "What am I gonna do with you…? You're always so needy."

"You weren't complaining an hour ago," she pouted, reassured by his touch, when he began stroking the small of her back with his fingertips. Her palms flat against his chiseled chest, she could feel laughter swelling within him before the sound enveloped her, hysterical but no longer frightening. A giggle thrummed in her throat, her lovely face lit up by a smile that was all pearly teeth and mischief. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging inside, and she wrapped her arms around him, her fingers twining in his green locks. When they pulled apart at last, she gasped for breath, light-headed and wanton. "The boys can wait… You're the boss, Mister J."

"Don't you think I know that, smart-ass?" She winced at his mockery of her, ready to bolt at any moment, but his arm around her waist kept her firmly in place. He held her against him as he reached for the kohl he had set on the vanity, her body rigid against his, a curse at the tip of her tongue. His arrogance irritated her when she was on the receiving end of it, and he must have been aware of that because he never let her walk away from him in a huff, ensnaring her in his essence until she surrendered again. The metal cool against her skin, he put the small round container in her waiting hands, his dark gaze posing a challenge whose meaning she could not immediately grasp. "Come on, do it. I want you to do it."

Her lips parted in a gasp of surprise as she studied his white face, his eyes missing the black circles around them, his rippled cheeks and sensuous mouth devoid of the blood-red smears that constituted his trademark smile. She beamed at him, unable to curb her sudden enthusiasm, and stole a quick kiss from him, her heart fluttering in her breast. Diligent in her work, she applied the kohl to his eyelids, drawing perfect dark orbs upon his painted skin with her fingertips. Her gentle ministrations seemed to relax him, and his taut muscles lost some of their tension as she inched even closer to him, her breasts brushing his chest through the fabric of the shirt. He was still handsome despite his theatrical makeup, she thought as she spread the lipstick across his mouth and the scars that were meant to mar his beauty but, in truth, took nothing away from it. She admired her work when she was finished, and his eyes flew open, the intensity of his stare touching her to the core. He took a glance in the mirror, grinning with a flash of teeth, clearly pleased with her, yet she could sense a change in him as his hand cupped her cheek.

"We'll make the world burn, Harley, but first let's put a smile on your beautiful face…"