Quick answers to those kind enough to review:
Sno-Chan: Clown porn indeed. Perhaps we should re-nickname him "Clown Prince of Porn" instead of "Crime"…(winks). I hope this will be worth the wait; if not, think it's only the beginning! (laughs).
Operameg: Welcome in our fan trip! (winks). The calendar structure of the fic came to me instinctively, as I have no ideas how I would have separated the paragraphs otherwise…but I'm afraid I've done some errors…oh well, no big deal. Naughty stuff ahead, enjoy!
Amy: As I am relatively new to this JHQ fanfic business, you can be sure I still have the flame to write for months (winks). Thanks for the nice comment, and have a pleasing chapter (laughs).
Kelly Renee: Edge of your seat? Check this, sweets. I'm in total denial that I've written it…oww.
Nicci: Thanks a lot, and of course I continue! (winks) I don't know how I manage to give my readers the impression that they're watching instead of reading, but that's really flattering (hugs). Enjoy!
Poptartfrog: It really makes you ponder, doesn't it? How does an unstable person finally cross the line, since we all know it wasn't really a conscious decision…I still have a little trouble characterizing the Joker, but I'm confident I'll have a firm grip on it by the end of the fic. Thanks for the comments, and have a good read!
Amanda: Thanks for telling me my Original Characters don't ruin the show, that means I did a good job (smile). M rating is here indeed, and what a M it is! (and to think I intend to go even further…punish me. I'm very, very bad…).
Thyme: My dear Thyme, you'll now understand the thing with the photography…the things you do to me (winks). For your questions, it was intended to Crane to play a small role, not because he's some sexy hunk in Batman Begins, but because he's the one using fear toxins. It was intended for Harley to experiment a childhood fear in front of our clown, and I changed it to physical inability fear while writing to avoid a how convenient! trap. But fear not (fear…I'm doing lame puns now), Crane will join our fantrip in the upcoming "Jealous Device", and that's going to be ugly….Ahh, I just love to torture him.
SEX AHEAD KIDDOS. YE'VE BEEN WARNED.
A MADHOUSE ROMANCE
December 1st-First session of the month
and a little after the Crane incident
"He's spying, ya know."
She didn't even have to ask who he was talking about; she could also see the large shadow of Daniel outside, and it infuriated her. No matter she passed the last 27 years of her life proving to the world she was a strong woman; all it took was a mere moment of helplessness and everyone treated her like a baby!
God, she hated them. What were they thinking? That she was a dumb blonde, a stupid teenager? That she loved being under the toxin-spell of a supermaniac and wanted more? Come on, she had more credibility than that.
Tired, she removed her glasses ("Doc, you don't have to put this serious façade crap in front of me. I know you don't need these—ahhh aren't you the prettiest doll now?") and eyed the green-haired hunk in front of her. Despite what the entire staff seemed to believe now, she wasn't an imbecile; she knew what they really began to be afraid of was the special bond she had slowly crafted with her patient.
"His crush on you is getting out of proportion, Harley. I mean, I know you're insensitive to his lame flirting, but suppose he frees himself from his restraints again? That he escapes Arkham? The guards would arrive too late, and I won't take the risk of loosing you for the sake of research over a psychopath's sanity, you understand?"
She almost snorted at the memory. The always politically correct Joan, never saying that what she really dreaded was to found her in a raped, tortured mess on the asylum's floor, grinning insanely because of non-consensual clown pornography. Her frustration was so intense at this moment, so overwhelming, that she almost spat to her face that she'll sooner be his willing whore than to have to put up with Arkham's global hypocrisy any longer.
At what point in this whole ordeal normal people ceased to understand what she was trying to do and left her alone with a lunatic for sole companion in her healing quest? Couldn't they see?
Of course not. The only being apparently gifted with the knowledge of "Harley's obvious basics" was strapped and shackled like a dog on the couch.
So there she was, with a suicidal deal if she wanted to have January with him too: prove to the entire asylum that whatever the Joker felt for her was on a purely professional level. Considering, thanks to the good doctor Crane, that nobody would ever believe that, she was ready for an awful month of slow death at day and insomniac crying at night.
"I know the jerk is spying, thank you. Anything new for me?"
"Don't use this tone with me, Doc. You know I just want to help."
His voice was curt, and the gentle scolding felt like a slap on her cheek. Unwanted tears brightened her eyes, as she frantically searched for tissues.
"Oh my God, Doc, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"N-no, no, you're right, I'm acting like…a spoiled child" she sniffled pitifully. "It's just that I don't see how we'll get out of this one", she added in a sad whisper.
"Get out of what? Jesus fucking Christ, what is it again?"
She recoiled a little, eyelids half closed in front of his sudden outburst of impatience, but soon enough his face was again smooth and charming as he smiled encouragingly.
"Tell me Doc. I'm here to help. I won't let anything trouble you."
If the circumstances were any different, she would already be in his arms crying her heart out at her misery. But since she was a criminal psychiatrist and him an insane individual, she just shifted uncomfortably on her chair before pouring out her problems like a fountain. A couple of tears and hiccups later, she wiped her nose in silence while he rubbed his chin, an unhappy pondering expression on his face.
"That old hag. I'm going to kill her someday."
"Lemme help."
Her wish was a metaphor; his assertion wasn't.
"That could be funny, Doc, but first things first. You're going to write a nice report—"
"About what? We didn't talk about anything yet!"
"Oh, well, just…use your imagination, you know? Like…There was a time with the Bat, he cornered me at a chemical industry…and then…erm…ahem…"
"…you…erm…remembered the first time you met him and… how he wronged you through the years, before falling again in a…eh…toxic waste in a bitter and ironic repetition of the past..?", she completed hesitantly.
"See, Doc, you're getting better at this than me!"
"What was that supposed to mean?"
"That I'm proud of you! So, like I was saying, you write this nice crap report and let me take care of the rest."
He smiled like a mischievous kid, and she chuckled lightly.
"You're so cute when you do that…and what exactly will we do with the rest of the session?"
"Chatting, of course! You didn't tell me yet how your first date with…whawazz his name again…Chicken?"
"Chuck! You're so mean!" she laughed heartedly.
"'Course I am, Doc, who do you think you're talking to?" he pouted. "And you are too! Leaving me when dear Chuck tried to kiss you on your doorstep…just as things became interesting…I've passed the whole week-end waiting for the conclusion!"
She blushed slightly.
"There was nothing really. He tried to…seduce me with some tongue trick but it was so…lame I just ended up laughing, really."
"Lame?"
"Yeah, He…passed his tongue on his lips in slow motion but…" she gestured with her fingers the general motion, blushing even more.
"…he ended licking himself like a goddamn dog?"
"…Yeah" she admitted. "Horrible sight forever burned in my retinas", she added with a smile.
The memory of her catastrophic first kiss had always been a painful one. But strangely, each thought she shared with the Joker—be it boring, painful or frustrating—just came back funny and alright. Another weight offs her shoulders; he just knew how to make her feel better.
-x-x-x-
December 5th-two sessions later
"Who is Holiday, Doc?"
Not even bothering to look up, Harley continued scribbling ideas on her notepad. Writing fake Joker stories was more difficult than she first thought—but what a challenge! It had to be gruesome, yet funny in some twisted way; something truly morbid and chilling that you couldn't help to appreciate despite its horror. Sad, really, that she couldn't share them with Joan; she would see what a good exercise it was to get to know your patient better.
"How the hell am I supposed to know?"
"Don't you read the newspapers, watch TV sometimes..?"
He seemed mildly annoyed, and Harley took some time to consider the question. Hasn't she read something about a holiday killer recently? She was sure that yes; it was the main topic of conversation in the staff's room. She just couldn't replace it; everything was so boring, so unworthy of attention compared to her sessions with the Joker, that she gave up on newspapers a few weeks ago.
"I think he or she stroke last on Thanksgiving. Brutal murder, they said. But I could check the details tonight if you want", she added as an afterthought.
"It would be sweet of you, Doc, I'd truly appreciate that. I find myself rather at lost now that I don't have Batman to obsess about."
She dropped her papers, blissful surprise blessing her features, and emitted a small squeal of joy.
"You don't? You did all the exercises we talked about? The respiration trick? Visualization? Dream control? It worked?"
He nodded tiredly, and she repressed the need to do a little victory dance. It worked. Her therapy worked. She was curing the Joker from his obsession—he was healing!
And Joan wanted to destroy it all for stupid reasons!
"Sure it worked, Doc, I try to do the stuff you suggested as often as I can. The only thing, though…"
"Yes?"
She was on the edge of her seat, fervently waiting. He could say whatever he wanted; she was still going to congratulate him.
"…I'm afraid I don't remember much of the outside world. Like, here, and with you nearby, it works, but…"
He looked truly contrite, somewhere between lost and ashamed, and after a quick look at the door, she found herself rushing to his side, pressing his head close to her heart, flattering his hair with maternal affection.
"Poor Pooh, don't worry about that! I'm so proud of you, we've accomplished so much!"
"You really think so?" he whined pitifully.
"Of course I do! Don't be silly!"
She pressed his face harder, really not caring that his nose was bumping in her breasts. The poor, poor thing. He had such a low self-esteem, a bad image of himself…but she was here for him, she'd always be. He had to know that.
"I won't ever, ever let you down, you hear me?"
And then it just…happened. He looked at her, his need for love as huge as an abyss reflecting in his half-closed eyes, and she bent a little and kissed him.
A fleeting little kiss, a little nothing that lingers on your heart like a childhood perfume: a brief contact, lips on lips, something very tender and soft that means nothing, yet means everything in the same time.
There was a warm silence where neither of them said something; just her standing besides him, sending waves of devoted love that he greedily took, both of them panting heavily.
"Again, Doc, please, please…"
"I can't", she whispered sadly, putting a finger on his lips to hush him. "The guards could come back. And there's the camera".
The camera, that wasn't recording many details but would surely be trouble if she repeated the gesture too often.
She smiled gently.
"Care to hear my new story about you?"
And that's how the session ended. Her telling him one of his fake memories, him listening like a child ready to be lulled to sleep. He blew her a kiss before leaving; she caught it and pressed it on her lips.
-x-x-x-
December 8th—the session after
"Doc?"
"Yes?"
"I have a…hem…confession to make."
"Sure, go ahead. You know I'm always listening."
"You don't understand Doc. It's…hem…well you promise me not to be angry?"
The frightened plea triggered some unknown emotion into Harley's heart, as she melted her voice to a soft caress.
"I won't, promise. What is it?"
He mumbled something quickly, so fast and so low she didn't hear a mere syllable.
"Can you repeat? I didn't hear!"
"Forget it Doc. Bad idea. You'll kick me and say I'm a dirty, ugly thing and call for the guards and I'll never see ya aga—"
"Stop it! You know that's bullshit" she admonished sternly. "Now tell me, what in the world you think is so horrible to get such ridiculous ideas?"
He shook his head vividly, and her curiosity flared. That was the first time, in all their sessions together, that he refused to talk about something he put on the table.
"Is it involving me?" she coaxed gently, trying to guess the truth.
"Yeah" he quacked.
"Is it…involving me and you?" she pushed, unsure.
"Yeah" he quacked again, obviously burning in shame.
"Is it…something with an intimate connotation?" she suggested cautiously.
"Hell yeah" he groaned, looking everywhere in the room except at her.
"Our…kiss?"
"Oh no, Doc. Worse."
"You had a …wet dream?" she suggested as lightly as she could, considering she was sweaty from all the tension between them.
"Worse, Doc. I've worked on it" he said in an almost inaudible voice, then closed his eyes, obviously waiting for her bashing and rejection.
Oh, God. The Joker masturbated thinking about me.
Quick, Harley. He feels guilty, like it was a bad thing. You need to reassure him. "Sexual desires are healthy", page 167, last paragraph. Go.
"I think it's…great" she managed to say after a small pause. "You know, it isn't a bad thing at all. You obsess less, other desires you neglected come back to light…" she explained with a professional tone. "It's very healthy; it shows that you're healing" she concluded, somehow very proud of her own, perfect explanation.
"You think so?" he asked, unsure.
"I'm telling you, and doctors always tell the truth" she added with a wink.
That seemed to convince him, and he relaxed on the couch, before smiling from ear to ear, a devilish glimmer in the eyes.
"So I can boast about my phantasms, Doc?"
"What?"
"Yeah, like this one when ya came in my padded cell, with this mini skirt of yours—you know, the black one, I like it so much—and ya went on all fours and begged me to—"
"HEY! You pervert!"
It was supposed to be an angry shout, because she knew she should be angry; but all that came out was hysteric laughter and a guilty tingle of excitation growing in her belly.
"Back on topic, horny man. Do you have a plan?"
"Not yet Doc, but it's coming. Just relax—I'll take care of everything."
-x-x-x-
December 12th—Harley's apartment
"Just relax, Doc. I'll take care of everything."
Sprawled on her bed, half-covered by a blanket and a skimpy pyjama, Harley was watching television—or at least her eyes were. Her mind, as usual, kept coming back to the Joker.
"Come on Doc, repeat after me."
She rolled her eyes, but obliged nonetheless.
"You're going to take care of everything. My only mission is to have fun tonight."
"That's right, pumpkin. Just fun. I can't stand seeing you unhappy…"
It was so easy, so simple to let him care of every little problem her mind suffered from. He always knew what to say, how to act, what to do…she had no doubt he'd come out with a plan by the end of the month, as precise and brilliant as a grand scale crime scheme.
"You won't disappoint me, will you?" she cooed to the (bigger) green-framed grin of the Joker, gently put near her heart, like a plush. "We need these sessions together, just you and me…"
As usual, the picture answered. She could even imagine his hand caressing her cheek as he talked in this low, seductive voice he adopted recently.
I'd hate to disappoint you, Doc…you know I feel exactly the same…
Damn right she knew. She knew him inside out. She was a Joker's expert. Even the Bat couldn't flatter himself with the knowledge she now had on the clown—and anyway she was the only one able to fully understand him; he said it himself.
Giggling, she kissed his nose in a resounding smack. She loved his nose. They said that men with long noses were specially…gifted in other areas, even if the only thought sent her blushing from head to toes.
Aaaah, Doc, why don't you ever kiss me here?
His imaginary hand tapped his lips lightly, in a mute supplication, and she vehemently protested.
"But I did! You think I kissed what last time? The couch?"
You know what I mean, Doc…a real kiss.
"You wouldn't be able to handle it, Mister J" she cockily grinned. "I'm a very…naughty…girl when I want" she whispered saucily, her nose on his nose, their lips only inches apart.
That's because you never tried me, baby. I'm the man!
The answer sent her in a fit of hysterics, and hastily she got up, eyeing his teasing face now flat on the mattress. Look at him, look elsewhere, at him, elsewhere, him…In a final little dance she shut her curtain up and slowly crawled back to him in an almost feline manner. Her face was flushed, and her heart was beating madly in her ears.
"I can't believe…I'm about…to do that!" she panted heavily, her mind fleetingly grasping how absurd, how wrong the situation really was.
The thought left quickly, and her tongue licked the glass, timidly at first, then more and more savagely. Lick his face. Hear his moans. Imagine what he tastes like. Lick more. Don't stop. Had he imagined something like this when he fantasized about her? Her on all fours licking his face, sucking each other's tongue? Licking his cock, perhaps? No, he had mentioned begging. Begging to suck his cock clean?
Her strokes became erratic, and in a frantic movement she freed her aching breasts and rubbed them on the harsh blanket, her whole body trembling from an unknown need. In a desperate attempt to relieve herself, she kissed forcefully the frame deeper into the bed, and abruptly pulled out.
"What am I doing!"
The realization was soon overridden by another vision—her Mister J on her bed. What would he look like in his full Joker outfit, his collar slightly open on his (probably) hairless chest? Would he hold his belt in a mockery of a whip, motioning for her to come to him?
Would he lick her nipples, nibbling on their perking buds, or greedily suck as much as he could? Would he put her hand on his trousers and force her to feel his throbbing manhood, looking at her with feverish lust, saying he'd fuck her senseless until she begged for mercy?
Would he take her against her wishes?
The last image put her on her knees, gasping for air. Unable to form any coherent thought, she slipped a trembling hand in her panties and fingered herself to oblivion.
In vain. The orgasm didn't come; the need was elsewhere.
-x-x-x-
December 15th—the next session
Jesus, Harley, this is your patient. Focus. FOCUS!
Easier said than done. Her whole body was edgy since 36 hours; she was white as a sheet. Everything people said to her fled kilometres above her head, as she tried desperately to concentrate on the upcoming session, to no avail, obviously.
She tried everything. She even thought about seducing Daniel for the night—and decided against it; this wasn't just about sex. It was…deeper than that. By kissing the Joker's picture, she opened the gates to something…new; there wasn't any other word to describe her current state.
Something new and very, very ugly, that twisted the Joker's voice to pure octaves of raw sensuality and placated her mind with kinky visions in sheer daylight.
In short, she was a sexually frustrated mess.
"—Harley, you aren't listening to me!"
In horror, she realized she must have been staring dumbly at him for a full five minutes.
"I'm…sorry, what did you say again?"
"This is really annoying Doc, how are we supposed to succeed if you act like an idiot? This is the third time I must repeat!"
Third time. Oh my God.
"I'm so sorry Mister J, I feel really unwell and—"
"Wha--?"
"I said I feel unwell!"
"Before that sweets, what did you say?"
Indeed, what did she say?
"I…don't remember. I'm sorry, so sorry…"
Her breath got caught in her throat. He was smiling—but unlike anything she ever saw from him. It felt like…huge satisfaction, demented pleasure, victory—
…and oh God he was licking his lips with agonizing slowness.
"I bet that was good old Chuck wanted to do, right Doc?"
I'm going to explode.
"..Right, right. Excuse me, I-I really need to go t-to the bathroom."
She didn't even wait for his answer, and rushed to the small cubicle just outside her office, panting like she had just run the marathon.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God I'll never be able to survive the session if he continues to tease me like that. Oh God. Oh God.
She splashed cold water to her face, not enough to erase her make-up, though. Just a little something to calm her burning nerves and hopefully tame her raging hormones.
Breathe, girl.
She came back and sat back in her chair. Her pupils were still dilated, her lips were still puffy from all the biting she had done, her face still flushed, but overall, she could handle it.
"My sincerest apologies, Mister Joker. I'm fine now."
"Don't bother Doc, I know how it is…" he said rather smugly. "Why don't you move this furniture to block the door's window, now?"
"What?"
"You heard me Doc. Just move it so we won't be interrupted. Quickly now, time is running short."
"What are you talking about!"
She didn't believe her ears. Moving the furniture? Interruption? By who? Why?
"Tsk, don't play dumb, sweets. Move the damn thing now, so you can take care of my hard-on."
She spilled her coffee everywhere on her desk. This wasn't happening. She heard wrong. He was crazy—he had to be to suggest that.
"Are you blind?" she whispered half-angrily, half-astonished. "There is a CAMERA!"
"You're blind Doc. I took care of the goddamn camera."
Her head swiftly turned; indeed, the camera was broken. Like if someone…threw a rock at it.
"How did you…"
"Later, Doc. Move your ass."
She had to be dreaming. The Joker wasn't commanding her to have sex with him in her office.
"Are you—"
"Enough, Harley. You know you want me. I can smell your arousal from here, so move it."
Despite the evidence that something was clearly wrong in this whole affair, she got up and pushed the furniture in front of the door. No Daniel this time; no one could see; no one could enter.
No one could save her.
"Good, good. Now come over here."
Trembling, she walked to him, as he recited instructions, his eyes never leaving hers.
"You put the furniture because the door was broken and wouldn't stop opening. Don't worry about that; I'll take care of it when I'll go out. After you'll go see the technician and say your camera is broken, understood?"
She nodded like a puppet, her eyes round like coins.
"Now Doc, open your legs and sit on my lap."
Perhaps a tiny, tiny part of her brain shouted "RUN!" at this instant, but Harley wasn't in a state to hear anything; the only thing reaching her ears was the Joker's voice, and if he asked her to sit on his lap, sit on his lap she'd do.
Her skirt rolled up in the movement, but she didn't care; and when her thighs finally closed on his hips, she moaned beautifully.
He has a hard-on. And it's rubbing on my wet panties. Oh, God, this feels so fucking good!
"Look at me now, Doc. Look at me."
She did. His eyes screamed evil, and yet she couldn't break free. This was a new version of her Mister J, more powerful, more savage…
Darker.
"That's it Harley. Now kiss me."
She would have kissed him anyway, order or not.
At first it was strange—she was kissing teeth. Then his face relaxed, melted somehow; ruby red lips joined her pink ones as her hips bucked forward for a first time, and his tongue invaded her mouth a moment later, just as a deep rumble of—laughter?—echoed in his chest.
Under her hands, the vibration sent chills trough her spine, as she practically tore away the shabby fabric of his shirt in an effort to feel his torso. She began sucking his tongue, the acidic taste making her clench her thighs tighter, while his shackled hands came on the pocket of her blouse, took the pen lying there and in a Houdini twist freed his wrists.
He was free—not from the couch, but free to roam his hands on her body as he pleased.
These long, artistic hands slipped under her shirt, her bra, uncovering her breasts to his waiting eyes, massaging them roughly before he broke the kiss.
"Put them in my mouth, Harl. Offer them to me."
Yes…YES…
The second his tongue licked the perky bud of her left breast, she moaned in delight, so loud he had to clap her mouth with one of his hands as she pressed his face closer, undulating without any shame on his rod. He grunted something indistinctly, something primal, and her skirt rolled up to her waist, exposing her butt to whoever would enter.
Both his hands came on her ass, feeling their firm roundness, touching hard, so hard, there would be bruises, she was certain. His middle finger pushed the offensive panties aside, and she jerked forward, wild as a beast.
"Easy, Harl. Easy", he whispered between his licks, feeling her wetness on his fingers. "Fuck, I'm gonna enjoy this more than I thought…"
And then it came. The bang on the door.
"HELLO? EVERYTHING ALRIGHT IN THERE?"
"Shit."
She wasn't that calm. In horror, she jumped off, quickly rearranged his and her appearance and spoke:
"Yes Danny, everything is A-Okay! The door is just broken!"
"Alright. Just…open it, would you?"
She slipped a mortified look to the Joker, who in return was muttering obscene curses.
"You can't leave me like this!"
"I'm afraid I'll have to, Doc. Have fun thinking about me tonight."
-x-x-x-
A Madhouse Romance-35 sessions remaining
Author notes
Oh my God. This isn't happening. I didn't write all this smut stuff! (in total denial).
Anyway. Since this was getting long (cough) I decided to cut the chapter in two, so we'll have December part two next week. A little less sex in the upcoming chapter, but our sexy clown has to escape somewhere in the story…
This said, feel free to befriend me on LJ (I'm themadpuppy) and check for our upcoming JHQ Christmas-themed drabble contest. Icons and fics to win…join the fun! ;).