If our reality falters, then why have dreams?
It was a question that enter my conscience. We were sitting at the edge of the bay. We were on a date. A rare time in which Garfield and Rachel can takeover our heroic personas. Rachel looked dashing in her outfit. It was simple, a white blouse with blue jean shorts. Loose-fitted, just the way I like my woman dressing. I was never afraid to tell Raven how beautiful she looks. I will be a fool if any jealousy arose from me. Granted, I can be jealous. You can thank Aqualad for providing me with the stage. Nevertheless, I told her to not be afraid of dressing up. Cherish her body as her temple, I tell her. It was more than the inside she needs to manage, but the outside. I think it was my ill attempt to loosen the stiffness of Raven. Remember, it was easier to take her beatings than it is being her man. Anyway, seeing her outfit and seeing the ice cream moustache on her face made the evening (I should say early morning) sweeter.
I helped her as we descended along the rocks to the shore. We could have used our powers, but decided against it. When we are dating, our code is to be ourselves without our superpowers. No transforming into different animals and no psychic powers for her. In a way, it was more of foreplay because we were challenging ourselves to this next level. A level beyond human, I think. I wonder if that was what that Marshall Applewhite guy was trying to dispel to us before making his departure along with the comet, Hale-Bopp.
The crescent moon shined on her pale face. Her hair glimmering amongst it sheen, like a river of murky, but enchanted darkness. Doesn't make sense, but hell, I wasn't and still am not the brightest crayon in the box with all of the other colors and what not. But anyway, it was there at the bay that Raven asked me that question.
My response was did that theory propelled from her half-demon side? She blushed, but shook her head in disagreement. She told me that we must be careful about how we views ourselves. She continued saying that what we have is real. She explained that being in love brought her foreign feelings that scared her, making her to think that way.
Crossing my leg around her, I deduced her reasoning with this logic. I told her sometimes we must be aware of what we enter into our conscience. An idea can produce a thought that can turn into a reality if we ponder on the idea. I explain if we continue to manifest these thoughts, then it can become a reality. If it does, then maybe that was why dreams were there.
She touched my cheek, caressing and teasing me for the whimsical logic I had given her. Her final response before allowing the silence to take us was you didn't get my point.
Maybe it was like a cliche, it was over my head. Speaking of which, it hurts. This tremendous pounding in my head is making me feel ill. I would like to congratulate my brain to allow me to disappear from time to time in my thoughts. It gives me temporary residence from the reality I am currently facing.
Harley takes off my blindfold and immediately throws me onto the concrete bed. I hit my jaw, feeling the pain upon impact. I am alert, keeping my eyes on the laughter of this temptress. She sways her hips, laughing as I can see the rattling of her head and the swaying of her skirt. Her blonde hair covers her eyes, but her lips do more of the communication as she continues licking and purring and laughing.
She closes the door. I back myself into the corner that I know is finite. Trapped in the lion's den with the very captor that captured me on the train earlier. Knowing I had nowhere to go, I defeatingly sit on the cold bed. She tilts over laughing. The same laughter she gave me on the train and the same laughter she did while having her way with me. And with that lecherous look in her eye, the day is yet to be over. For her and for me.
"Get yourself comfortable, beastie dude." She giggles. She steps out of the cell. She quickly holds on to it while pulling out some items. A moment later, she throws a pillow and a thin cotton thread in my face.
"Make this bed real quick before I give you the blanket," she says. She stands there fidgeting as I quickly make my bed. The cold cement block gives me the chills as I, too, can relate right now. There is fear, but I must remain calm.
"Before you think of your route of escape," she tells me. "Boss recommends not to transform for if you do, naughty things will happen." She pouts while sucking on her finger. She then rubs it and points at me. "Remember doing this to you, beastie dude? I must say it was a fun ride messing with you. Pudding would have never let me play with him like that. I am grateful that boss lets me have some kind of fun."
Many words want to spit out of my dry mouth. "Bitch," "fuck you, cunt," "go to hell," anything to get this monkey branching, vile, disgusting, pervert of a woman out of my face. However, my strength is my caliber. If anything my leader taught me, never let the villain think they have the upper hand. Play it cool until it is time to attack. She says that I can't use my powers. I am unsure if she is bluffing or it is real. That long rod protruding me was real. Laura is quite a stickler when dominating her man. I put that thought aside. The sheets and the pillow is set. Now, I am ready for this blanket.
"I am finished," I tell her calmly. She hums. She walks toward me, pushing me aside. I hit my head on the wall. Now should have been a good time to throw a curse word to her, but the thrashing of my head is too painful to say those words.
"Seems like you did great," she giggles. She turns around and goes to get make the blanket. She throws it at me. It looks and smells like it had seen better days. Drenched in the scent of bleach, wiry than wool, and you can hear the scraps on the bed. I put it on the bed and after a moment it was finished.
She claps in excitement. "Wow, it looks very easy to see a boy like you submit. Must be sad and disgraceful. Couldn't imagine how your other teammates feel."
I respond.
"Frankly, I don't give a damn what you think of me, Harley," I say to her with a sting in my voice. I want to be venomous, but I am keeping a cool, collective tone; or at least that is what I am thinking. "At some point, the Titans is going to find me. And when they do, your ass is grass, you hear me?"
There is a brief, pregnant silence. She peers close. She kneels and give me a strong look. She lowers her face. "Beastie, honey?" There is a fierce slap. I can taste blood. She slaps me again. Then she pushes me down to the floor. I hit the back of my head on the concrete bed. The throbbing is continuing but immense with pain. "Mind your tongue and your tone when you are talking to me." She grips my mouth. I feel her fingers applying pressure in my mouth. It begins to hurt. "You are the last person in the fucking universe who should have anything to say right now. As for your teammates, let them come. We aren't afraid to battle. However, we don't actually give a damn about your shitty mates, pumpkin." She puts a kiss to my forehead. "Boss only wants you!"
She gets up and closes the cell. She slowly takes off her skirt, displaying her red and white polka dots panties. It is laced in a thong. She turns to display her body. I hate to admit, she has a gorgeous body. She pulls the rubber bands from her hair, letting the blonde sway into her shoulders. She rustles her hair before taking off her shirt, displaying the matching red and white polka dot bra. She kicks her clothes to the side, leaving me, her, and my erection in the finite cell.
"I hope the boss doesn't mind on checking out the merchandise," she says to me. She points her finger to me, motioning me to get on the bed. I avert my eyes. I am greeted with another slap to the face. I am still tasting blood as I wipe it with my sleeve. I receive another slap. What amazes me is that she isn't showing anger. Just laughter. I shouldn't be too surprised, but it interest me on how a person like Harley can function like that without anything of remorse?
She takes me to the bed. I feel the wiry, itching feeling of the blanket covering my back. Rough feeling, it doesn't feel good. However, there is nothing I can do as I try to muster my desires away from Harley Quinn. She climbs on the bed. She gives me a seductive grin. She purposefully rubs my leg with her knee. She uses her free hand to rub on my thigh. She uses her other hand to cradle my crotch. I close my eyes, but immediately opens after she grips my crotch.
"Never turn your eyes away from me," she says with a strong tone of her voice. "It is rude to a lady." The latter of the sentence she giggles.
"Vhat the hell are you doing, Harley?"
Harley turns around. I do the same. In front of the cell, there is Madame Rouge. Her arms were crossed, a cigarette protruding from her lips. I can smell it from the distance. Nevius is the brand. I used to buy those for her whenever we were in Japan. Those were earlier times. Times I thought I was in love.
"Vhat vere you trying to do," she questions Harley. Harley relieves herself from me and covers herself from Madame Rouge.
"I thought you didn't mind me having some kind of fun with him," she says with a cautious, nervous voice. "You were fine with it earlier."
Laura stretches her arms and grabs Harley by her hair. Harley wails as she is dragged to the floor and slammed against the cell. She displaying tenseness on her face.
"Forgive me, boss," she begs. "I am not trying to steal your man."
Laura tsk, blowing smoke onto Harley Quinn's face. "I am glad you can see in your ridiculous senses that you figured out my possession." She takes the cigarette from her mouth and places it on Harley's face. Harley screams as Laura ruthlessly pokes Harley a few times on her now sunken face.
"I am sorry, boss," she says remorsefully. "Please, I am sorry. I am sorry." A river of tears flow, but it is not enough to stop Laura from the punishment. After two more pokes, she stops. Madame Rouge pulls a match from her pocket and lights the very cigarette that she used on Harley. She waves the match before discarding it.
"Apology accepted. See it to that you don't do it again," she says while releasing Harley. "It is that clear?"
"Yes, boss," she says.
"Good, now get out of my face," she screams to Harley. "Now!"
Harley gathers her clothes and runs out of the cell. Madame Rouge comes in and closes the cell door. She spits in disgust. "Foolish girl! The hell she thinks of wanting to fuck my man." She turns her eyes on me. "Speaking of my man."
She takes off her black trademark gloves and gently rubs my face. "Beast Boy, it is really been so long. I have missed you."
I keep a blank stare. I was preparing for another attack, but she keeps a calm composure. I watch her take off her stockings and rubbing the soles of her feet. She cracks her knuckles before redirecting her attention to me. "Tell me, Beast Boy. Have you missed me?"
"Have I missed you?"
"Yes."
I remain silent. Because I don't know what I really want to say without facing the consequences. It will be safe if I just remain calm for this time.
She lets out a small smirk. "Pity, yet petty. I am not surprised of my beloved feeling this way. If getting my cherry popped in our reunion makes us feel sour, then I must be sour grapes to you. Right, my little green goblin?"
She shakes her hands, following by her scoffing. "It is getting late. I shall retire for the night. When I return tomorrow, you better have an answer as well as a better attitude. Or else, I von't be as merciful like earlier." She licks her fingers gingerly, leaving a devilish smile worthy of pissing someone off.
Before she leaves, I mutter under my lips. "Fuck you, bitch."
Like a bolt from the blue, she stretches her hands and wraps it tightly around my neck. She closes the cell and returns to my post.
"Fuck me, you say," she retorts while I am straining to breathe. I am kicking my feet and stretching my hands to stop her. She furrows her eyebrows before showing her teeth. "Fuck me, you say? You must've forgotten vho you fucking with it."
She grabs me in the air before hitting me to the floor. Keeping her grip on my neck, she throws me against the bars and I hit a few other parts of my cell. She laughs at my peril. I am wincing from the pain. After a few minutes, she throws me to the door where she continues to laugh. She cracks her knuckles. Her footsteps are the only sound I am hearing at this point. My face is on the ground. She lifts my head with feet.
"Fuck me, you say," she smirks. She nudges my face with her feet. "My feet has been exhausted from this vork. Lick!"
In pain, weakened, and can't think of other ideas, I use the only Trump card I can find, my powers. I close my eyes to envision myself into another animal. As I pictured myself as an animal of my choice, I feel a sharp pain that electrifies my body. I scream in agony.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Did Harley try to varn you if you resist, foolish boy?"
"What did you do to me?"
"That doesn't matter anymore for vhat is going to happen if you don't lick my feet," she says. "I don't have all fucking day. Now, lick my feet or I vill hurt you."
I bite my lip. I put my mouth around her toes. The sweat and dead skin enter my taste buds. The sourness of her sweats makes me cringe. She laughs as she tells me to do my job.
"That's right, Beastie," she says. "Serve your purpose for me. You are good."
I don't want to think anymore. I lick her toes as I focus back on residing in my mind. I am picturing myself on that date with Raven. Eating ice cream at the shore. Laughing and discussing our life.
Raven.
Raven.
Raven.
Where is Raven?