Thought I would pay homage to one of my favorite JokerxHarley moments, with my own little twist, of course. Kuddos to you if you recognize it :)
The Joker was working on a chemical equation, writing furiously and frustrated at the temperature of the room. The heating system had been on the fritz, and it was either much to warm or much too cold inside The House until it could be fixed; and right now, he was burning up. He had stripped down to his wife-beater and purple slacks, and Harley sat at her desk dressed in a tank top and pair of athletic shorts. Her legs were propped up onto one corner as she clicked her mouse and typed at her computer, scanning the three large monitors in front of her.
He looked over at her and traced the smooth skin of her milky legs with his eyes. It had been almost two weeks since he had been inside of her but he could wait, he had to wait. He had to make her want it, dream about it, convulse in withdrawal for it; that's how he remained in control, even though a small voice in the back of his mind constantly reminded him how hopelessly addicted he was to her. She was inside his head, imbedded deep under his flesh, coursing in his veins, and he injected her like a drug that he knew would surely kill him someday.
Sometimes he would catch himself staring at her, worshiping her, and it would infuriate him. So, he would strike her and immediately hate himself, hoping secretly that she would hit him back. Sometimes she would, other times he would have to provoke her by hitting her a second time, loathing himself even further.
Sometimes he would let himself indulge in her nurturing embrace and sweet kisses. He enjoyed it more than he would ever allow her or himself to know. Her very touch set his flesh on fire and her blue eyes drew him in like a moth to its own beautifully flickering demise. He would often attempt to ignore her, sometimes for days at a time, proving that he still had the power to exist independently of her; that she needed him more than he needed her. It incensed him when she would refuse to comply with this tactic by disregarding him in return; she was suppose to pine for him, beg for his affection. When she didn't he would punish her, forcing her to lash out and finally throw him a harsh blow as he secretly swooned at the exquisite stinging of her skin on his.
This relentless game of push and pull was the only control he knew he had left over the way she made him… feel; something he had not done for many years before he met her. He had kicked her out almost as many times as she had left on her own, but it always suffocated him to watch her leave. Sometimes he would yank her back inside the building before she had even left the lot of the Opera House, other times he would wait as long has he could stand it before fetching her from the one place she always sought refuge; The Plant's house.
Most often she would return on her own and after she was back home he would dote on her for days, sometimes weeks, bending to her every wish and relishing in the pleasure he gained from watching her writhe in the affection he bestowed on her. Again, it made him feel in power; her angst, her ecstasy, it was all sourced from him and him alone. No other man in his right mind would ever touch her, ever look at her. He would tear the throat out of anyone who dare harass or insult her in any way. She was his Clown Princess, his possession, his obsession, and he was afflicted with her.
She looked over and noticed him staring; he quickly averted his eyes back to the papers on his desk. He had lost track of the chemical equation he had been balancing and cussed himself under his breath, starting again from the top. Halfway through, however, he caught himself staring back over at her and threw his pencil down in frustration.
"What's wrong, Puddin'?" she asked him as he leaned back in his chair and scratched his head.
"Nothing", he insisted shortly, looking back at her legs, "Go put some damn clothes on, Harley."
She gave him a confused look, "I am wearing clothes."
"Those shorts are too short, you're gonna give the boys the wrong impression."
She paused and her expression changed, "Only boy I see here is you", she said, seductively tracing the inside of her thigh with her fingertip and driving him crazy, "Mr. J…"
She knew exactly what she was doing to him, that name drove him wild. He could feel his temperature rise as the uncontrollable lust spread through his veins. It angered him that he couldn't prevent it and he leaped from his seat, yanking her up from her chair by an elbow and pushing her toward the dresser next to the bed, "Put some damn pants on!"
He attempted to hide his predicament, but she had already seen the desire in his eyes, and teased him by locking eyes with him as she slowly removed the athletic shorts to reveal the red laced panties underneath. He couldn't take his eyes off of her and his breathing increased involuntarily, but he refused to give in to her seductive allure. The sex had to be on his terms always or else she would find loopholes with which to control him; she was no dummy after all. He turned his back on her and began writing a bunch of nothing as his mind fought to remove the images of her perfect body and the things he could do to it. The drawer to the dresser opened and closed, and after a moment, she was returning to her desk as he watched her in his peripheral vision. She propped her legs back onto the edge as she had them before, and continued typing quietly.
The Joker turned his head slowly and observed her new lower half; completely covered, but wrapped in a close-fitting pair of yoga pants that hugged her perfectly shaped bottom. It was a bit large by societies' standards with their stick-figure model worship, but he preferred it that way. There was a snapping sound, and he looked down to find that he had broken his pencil in half. He angrily tossed it at the wall and heard Harley snicker at him.
His head snapped toward her, "What the hell's so funny?"
She turned around in her chair and straddled the back of it, making his head spin, "Aw, come on, Puddin', don't you wanna rev up your Harley?" she asked playfully, bringing her hands in the air in front of her and flicking her wrists back, "Vroom, vroom", she whispered with a grin.
A tingle shot down his spine and he had to turn away from her to look down at the desk again, "No."
He saw her get up and approach him slowly, lifting a leg to sit on the edge of his desk and wrap her foot around his side. This was torture and he couldn't stand it, the desk was his favorite place to take her and she knew it. He clinched his jaw and looked up at her, giving her a warning glare, but she ignored it and slid her body in front of him, pushing his papers aside.
"We've been working so hard these past couple of weeks. Don't you think we deserve a little playtime?" she asked sweetly, stroking a hand through his long hair.
He had to get a hold on the situation before he lost his cool and bent her over the desk. Standing up quickly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled it from his hair, squeezing it tightly and making her moan. Over the years, she had grown to enjoy the roughness of his sexual nature, and he could no long use it against her in situations like this; it only aroused her and further pushed him over the edge. He had had enough, she was not going to win this game. He slapped her and pushed his hand in her face, knocking her off the desk onto the floor, immediately wishing he could shove a pistol in his mouth. She stared angrily up at him for a moment, then rose to her feet and began slipping on her shoes quickly.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
She didn't answer and started for the door. He followed her and grabbed her wrist again, but this time, she didn't appear to enjoy it, "I asked you where you were going."
She shook her arm out of his grasp, "Away from you!"
In the foyer, Mac looked up from his hand of cards and exchanged a glance with Joey; Ms. Quinn and The Boss were fighting again. Their shouts were increasing in volume and echoing into the foyer where the two henchman were manning their security post and passing the time by playing cards. Mac looked toward the door of the Cigar Lounge.
"Let it go, man", Joey warned him quietly, staring back at his cards.
He tried, but it made his back ache to think of that Son-of-a-Bitch laying his hands on that beautiful woman. He'd never do such a thing to her if he was ever lucky enough to call her his own. At that moment, he saw Ms. Quinn storm from the room, throwing the door back on its hinges.
"Harley! Don't you walk away from me, we aren't through!" The Joker came out shouting, close to her heels.
"Oh we're through, in more ways than one!" Harley yelled back at him over her shoulder and she strided away from him on her short, but perfect legs. Mac could swear he caught a look of distraught panic in The Joker's face, but it faded quickly into blind rage.
"The only way you're leaving this building is in a casket!" he yelled after her, increasing his speed.
"Well, then you better start slicing, Stabby, I'm gone!" she retorted, and Mac's heart sank as he watched her go.
The Joker made large steps with his long thighs and caught her by the arm just as she reached the doorway to the left of the staircase. She struggled in his grasp, "Let me go, Jack" she finally demanded, staring into his eyes.
He grabbed her face quickly with his other hand and smashed her cheeks together, "What did I tell you about that fucking name?"
Mac was about ready to jump from his seat when her closed fist suddenly swung around in midair, catching her boyfriend square in the jaw. He released her and staggered backward, holding his face. They paused and looked at each other for a moment, and he finally threw his arm in the air, "Fine! You wanna go? Fuck off! Who needs you?"
They both turned quickly on their heels and walked in opposite directions; Ms. Quinn into the theater, The Joker back toward the Cigar Lounge. He caught Mac's gaze and threw him a hateful glare, "The fuck you lookin' at?"
The henchman quickly averted his eyes back to his cards as his boss passed and entered his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. After a second, the wall shook as he threw a fist into it on the other side. Joey gave Mac a look, "You'd better say your prayers tonight, man. God just intervened for your stupid ass, I thought he was gonna cut your eyes out. I told you, let it go, this is just the way things are."
"It just ain't right, man. I'm glad she left him."
"She'll be back."
"Naw, man, she looked really pissed. She even hit his ass, d'you see that?"
Joey rolled his eyes from behind his cards.
"What'cha think they argue about?" Mac enquired.
Joey sniffed and leaned back in his chair, checking the monitor before looking back at his cards, "Usually starts with somethin' related to the next job; building blueprints or schematics or somethin' else Ms. Quinn's workin' on. Then it blows up into a fight about nothin', but she'll be back."
"And he beats her for it, huh?"
"If he gets mad enough. She ain't no angel either, though, you just seen her sock him in the jaw. Sometimes she's the first one ta throw the punch, and she fights dirty, too. I seen her bring a knee into his nads a few times. "
The door to the Cigar Lounge swung back open and The Joker emerged, fully clothed and pulling his gloves on over his hands, bare face partially hidden by his black fedora. He approached the table without looking at the men and quickly checked the monitors.
"She went down that alleyway there, Boss", Joey said, pointing at the screen, and The Joker took off toward the door to the theater in a half-walk, half-jog.
Mac gave his friend a dirty look, "The hell d'you do that for? He's just gonna go beat the hell outta her."
Joey chuckled in his throat, "No he ain't."
Mac threw his cards on the table and started to get up.
"Sit your ass back down", Joey warned him.
"I'm not just gonna sit back and-"
"-He ain't gonna hurt her, just trust me."
Mac reluctantly lowered himself back into his seat and the two sat in silence for a while, exchanging cards on the table.
"So his name is Jack?" he asked after a few minutes.
His friend lifted an eyebrow to him, "Pretend you didn't even hear that, man. I'm surprised he didn't cut her tongue out for sayin' it herself."
"He probably would have if she hadn't socked him in the face like that. The girl knows how ta stick up for herself."
Joey chuckled, "Yeah, and The Boss ain't got no one to blame but himself for that one. He's the one who taught her how ta fight. She can probably outshoot most of us, and I know for a fact any one of us would be dead meat if she ever got her little hands on a knife."
Mac shook his head, "Smart, beautiful, sexy, tough. Damn, why couldn't I have been thrown in Arkham seven years ago?"
His friend rolled his eyes and glanced at the monitor, "There, see? I told ya", he gestured toward the screen.
Mac leaned forward and squinted at the image of his boss holding Ms. Quinn up against the wall of the parking garage by her thighs, thrusting against her as she kissed him and knocked the fedora to the ground to grab a handful of hair.
Joey looked back at his cards and smirked, "Sometimes I think they fight just so they can make up." He laid a card on the table and looked up at his friend whose eyes were still glued to the screen, "Quit watchin', you creep! It ain't HBO!"
Mac felt himself blush as he quickly looked back down at his terrible hand, wishing he was the one whose hair she was pulling.
The Joker slowly released Harley's thighs and breathed hard against her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him. She laid her forehead onto his shoulder, trying to catch her own breath. Reaching up with a delicate hand, she softly stroked one of his scarred cheeks and he squeezed her tighter in his strong arms.
"You make me crazy", he said, muffled into her neck.
She grinned, "You like it."
He picked his head up and kissed her, "Unfortunately."
Harley pushed back on him gently and reached down to loop the leg of her yoga pants back around her ankle and pull them up while The Joker zipped his slacks and grabbed his fedora from the ground. He put his arm around her and they walked to the stage door together.
She pointed a finger in the direction of the security camera, "Think we gave them a show?"
"They didn't watch it if they know what's best for 'em", he responded.
