How Harley managed to get into Bruce Wayne's manor would be a mystery to all and it would be especially puzzling for Bruce, himself.
She had stepped out of the shadows, her blue eyes being the first thing he saw. Her false golden hair framed her face carefully, her pale skin was practically glowing under the dim light of the fire Bruce had set up earlier when he had come home. Her plump cherry lips were free of any smile and she was silent.
He had only seen her a few times without all the gimmicks and costumes, and each time she had been more beautiful than the last. He supposed this time wasn't much different, because the moment she rose out of the shadows like indecent smoke, his breath had been taken away.
"Who are you?" his voice came out firm and he pretended to keep his distance. "Oh, don't bother with it, Bats." the blonde replied, her voice delicate, serious and without the overplayed Brooklyn accent. He acted as if he wasn't surprised and in all honesty, he probably shouldn't have been. He turned to face her fully from his deep emerald chair, "Harleen..." From his spot he could see the woman in question smirked, her ruby lips teasing him.
She didn't speak, simply walked towards him. Her long legs were bare, the pale skin a smooth ivory, her ankles were small, and her feet were covered in shiny, black stilettos. She wore a tight black dress that hugged her curvy form and he could make out the definite swell of her breasts. With every step, her wide hips swayed and her hair bounced.
"You know, I've always known it was you."
She was standing before him now, he hadn't moved much other than to follow her movements. Her smokey eyes looked down at him and he wondered how The Joker ended up with such a stunning woman. He also wondered why he didn't really care that she knew his true identity. He found his voice and it came out deep and smooth, "Oh, is that so?" The giggle he had received in response was tinkling and soft, almost like wind-chimes.
"Yes. Not many people can go flying around in fancy suits and have such advanced weaponry without having a little money on the side...and seeing as how the Batman is supposed to be a 'good' guy, he'd have to already have the money..." She looked at her nails in a bored fashion and then continued, "Besides, You know what they say, 'follow the money.' So I did a little research. Your company has been funding some fishy stuff, Mr. Wayne. " Bruce gripped the arms of his chair tightly as his jaw clenched. He had thought he had been covering his tracks quite well, but here he was being proven wrong by Harley Quinn. "Don't seem so surprised. Would it make you feel better if I told you it took a little bit more effort than I thought?"
His posture relaxed into acceptance. Harleen Quinzel had to have had received her degrees somehow, although as he looked back over her figure, he had always assumed she had gone through school by less than honest ways. She was smart, he'd give her that much. Although, he had always thought her somewhat smart seeing how she was still alive after all these years with the Joker, but then again, the fact that she was even with the Clown Prince had shadowed her brilliance.
Silence between the two filled the room and the only thing that could be heard was the quiet crackles and pops of the fireplace. Harley was the first to speak, "I need some money." Bruce gave her an incredulous look, "Excuse me?" He didn't even bother to hide the surprise in his voice and she tapped her foot impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest, "You heard me. You're going to give me some money or I'll tell the whole world about who the Batman really is."
She almost regretted her threat as Bruce sprung from his chair, backing her into the desk that sat behind her. "What the hell makes you think you can waltz in here and make demands?" he hissed, his face mere centimeters from hers, "I should just kill you right here and now and no one would be the wiser. I doubt even the Joker knows your here." At this point, his arms were extended on both sides of Harley, pinning her there with his body and dangerous eyes. He knew he'd never kill her, but she didn't.
She was trying to think clearly, looking for some sort of solution to get her out of this predicament that she had so poorly brought upon herself. Then, a certain light seemed to filter into her mind. Within seconds she was on her tippy toes, pressing her red lips to Bruce's thing, pale ones. At first, it didn't seem like he'd be swayed, but then she allowed her little hands to wrap themselves into his hair and pull him closer. With a small moan released from her, he caved.
He hadn't been touched by a woman in so long, that even the simple kiss had brought him to heights of arousal that he had never experienced before. Then again, he had fantasized about Harley Quinn on more than one occasion. The kiss had become passionate, lipstick smearing from her lips and onto his. His hands began creeping slowly to her thighs to hike up her dress and he noted how smooth she was.
Alarm bells went off in Harley's head, but she had decided that it didn't matter, so long as she could walk away after. She left his lips to trail kisses along his strong jaw, down his neck, and stopped at the collar of his shirt. She pulled away to begin unbuttoning it—slow and deliberate.
Bruce's breathing was harsh as he gripped Harley's thighs almost painfully. He tried to control himself but the smoldering look that Harley was giving as she took off his shirt undid him completely. The moment his shirt fell to the floor, he picked the blonde form up and sat her on the desk, ripping her dress down to see her beautiful breasts.
They were perky, round, and as he reached out to cup them, he realized that they were perfectly sized for his hands. He let his thumb brush over one of her light pink nipples, watching in fascination as it budded. He could hear Harley's sharp intake of breath and he wanted to hear it again. He let his head drop to her other breast and began to suckle gently on the neglected nipple.
He feels her hands tangle in his hair once more and her nails scraping against his scalp. The rough treatment only fueled the fire and his pants began to feel much too tight to him all of the sudden. Harley was squirming under his treatment, and a soft moan escaped her cherry lips. He gripped the bottom of her dress and pulled it further down, until it fell completely off. She was completely bare aside from a small pair of silky black set of panties. He let his right hand trace down from her breasts to her stomach slowly, his fingertips pausing at the edge of her panties—teasing her for a moment. His hand then disappeared under the fabric and suddenly Harley was clutching him like a lost teddy bear.
His fingers traced her warm, wet sex as if trying to remember every crevice and fold. One finger slid in between her lips, not quite dipping it in while his thumb rubbed gently on her clit. She was practically in heaven and she began to whisper in his ear for more. He obliged, finally letting his finger dip in and pump slowly, then a second. Her hips began to grind against his hand as he expertly moved his fingers. She was shaking, small pants and quiet moans escaping her.
She was getting close, he knew. He took his time, though, wanting it to last, wanting to watch the rise and fall of Harley Quinn. He pulled away some so that he could watch her. Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted, head tilted back as if in rapture. Her chest pushed out as she breathed, making her breasts seem larger. Soon the quiet moans became a little louder and she cried out as if in surprise as her release shook her. Her hands held onto Bruce's biceps as her world went white for a few seconds.
After watching the spectacular display, he dropped his pants quickly and rammed his impressive length into the warmth that was Harley. She didn't even have a chance to recover from her high as he began to pound her relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping together echoed through out the room, as did Bruce's grunts of approval. She was so tight and he wasn't sure how long he could hold on, but he figured it wasn't much longer.
Harley's legs were clenching tightly around the Bat's hips as she felt another orgasm roaring towards her. She tried to speak, to tell him to slow down, go faster, quit, fuck her, stop, go, god anything, please, please, please, please. She arched into him as he went harder and faster, frantic in his movements. He's nearing his end and she's trying to hold on for dear life. Soon, she hit her peak once again, and her moan was loud in his ear. He could feel her clenching him in a spastic manner and it's just what he needs to go over the edge. A few more thrusts and he pulled out, cumming onto her milky white thighs.
He lets his head fall onto her shoulder, both of them panting and satisfied. The room is quiet aside from their breathing and Harley's hair is stuck to her face messily. Bruce is the first one to break the silence.
"What do you need the money for?" Harley cringes, because now she feels like a prostitute. Inside she breaks a little as she realizes what she has done and her betrayal to the Joker stings her soul. "I want to leave Gotham...I want to start over." She explains quietly, both of them unmoving from their positions.
"Why have you been with him for so long?" he asks, his tone curious. She answers simply, "I love him." He doesn't seem satisfied, because if she loved the Joker, "Then why are you here?" She knows what he means. Why was she there fucking him like a wanton whore when she should be back at the hideout doing Joker's bidding. "I told you, I need money. I can't stay any longer. He's going to kill me one day and even though I love him, I don't love him enough to be beaten anymore." Her answer is cold, clipped, and he feels like she's telling the truth. The room fell silent once again.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, then Bruce moved. He began to pull on his pants and handed Harley a box of tissues that were on the side table next to the chair that had long been abandon since their chat. "Okay." is all he says and she cleans up and dresses herself in what's left of her clothing.
It's not until months later that Bruce finds out the truth. Harley hadn't wanted the money to get out of Gotham, she needed it to save the Joker's life. Apparently he had been injured on a job a few weeks back and the injury had taken to a nasty infection. Their funds were low because of Joker's inability to pull jobs, which had made Harley unable to hire a mob doctor without the money and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't intimidate anyone to care for the Joker, who had been laying in his bed with a dizzying fever. Mob doctors were numb to threats, especially if you needed them.
His hands were clenched in anger as he realized he had been tricked once again by the lovely Harley Quinn. The Joker, he mused, was a very lucky man to have a woman to go through such lengths to save him. How was it that such an evil man had managed to snatch up such a resourceful woman such as her. He couldn't help but be jealous of what the Joker had. After that night with Harley, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He felt disgusted and proud all at once with himself. The anger he had for the betrayal of Harley was surprisingly over boiling and he was angry at himself for trusting her to begin with. If he had been the bad guy and the Joker the hero, Harley would be his.
For once, Batman wished he was the villain.