Theme: Charlotte Gainsbourg - 'Deadly Valentine' (Soulwax Remix)
The Pantomime
17.
Once Ed was unchained from the bathtub, he was allowed to shower and Lee gave him some of her ex-fiancé's clothes to wear. The pants were ridiculously short on his long frame, and the shirt cut into his armpits, but worst of all, the pants were from Nordstrom Rack, and the shirt was… Kirkland Brand.
Then they all sat down in the living room to catch up. Well, Harley sat, the Joker—or J, as he was known to his friends, which now included Ed—loitered near the window, shirtless and barefoot, and chain-smoking like it was going out of style, giving Ed plenty of chances to ogle him.
It made sense that J would be all long and lean and lanky, and strong and hard-looking and sexy in this weird, dark, feral kind of way. He'd developed some angry red scratches on his shoulders, no doubt a thank you from Harley, possibly another clue to the question of size that so plagued Ed. But J seemed to be wearing the scratches proudly, or at least he didn't care what Ed and Lee thought about them.
Anyway.
While Lee pulled together food for dinner, Harley went over what they already knew, and unlike their last rushed planning session near the docks, Ed got a glimpse of how her mind really worked—organized, strategic, very Type A. It clashed with the whole chaotic, sexy terrorist vibe the Joker gave off, but also made some weird kind of cosmic sense.
"Here's what we know," Harley announced, all business. "Roman introduced Blue Orchid to Gotham to keep the mob under his thumb. That's Lucy on the main island and Alexandra Kosov on the Eastside. They're all making good money and he's advising them on how to keep their businesses clean-looking."
Ed nodded along eagerly.
"We know he's installing Hamilton Hill as Mayor," she continued. "In a matter of days, Roman will be able to put his own DA and his own police commissioner in office, and then he'll control City Hall and the GCPD."
She glanced at Ed to see if he was keeping up, and he beamed and nodded again.
"We also know Roman has an irrational life-long obsession with the Wayne family and wants to take over Wayne Enterprises with help from John Daggett," Harley narrowed her eyes at Ed, watching him closely. "And that's where we get in his way."
"With Vicki Vale's help?" Ed asked, getting excited. "So, what, we use her to get to Bruce? Use Bruce to lure in Roman?"
"Mm, I kinda like that better," J drawled, prompting Ed to flash him a smile, which was not reciprocated in the slightest.
"Me too," Harley agreed. "But we're going to need to be more… subtle to get this to work."
"Subtle," Ed and the Joker scoffed in unison, making Harley's eyes widen as she looked between them, a little disturbed.
Ed swung around to beam at J, who just snarled back at him.
"Anyway," Harley continued warily. "Roman has also… stolen a little something of ours."
Ed spun back around to face her, his eyes wide and curious about this new development.
"Stole something from you?"
"Someone," Harley shrugged like she didn't care. "A hacker who does jobs for us."
She wasn't being completely honest, Ed could tell, so he decided to poke around.
"What's this hacker's name?" he asked slyly, and the pause that followed was just long enough to confirm this was a bigger deal than they were admitting to.
"He's called…" Harley made a face. "Anarky."
"Of course he is," Ed smiled complacently. "Don't you think it's probably a trap to lure you back in so Roman can try to make you his girlfriend again?"
"No," Harley said sourly, obviously not enjoying the sarcasm. "When Roman was regaling us with his evil plan, he told me Anarky would help him take over Wayne."
"Hmm," Ed stroked his chin like a cartoon villain. "Oooh, ya know, maybe Roman thinks Anarky's the one who hacked Kane and Dumas and Wayne during the Thanksgiving Riots, and that's why he's so convinced Anarky can take down Wayne."
Ed saw Harley's eyes dart to the Joker, and he didn't need to see J's face to know they were silently communicating something to each other. They hadn't thought about that, and Ed's heart nearly split in half with happiness that he'd impressed them.
That one little look—the most dangerous people in Gotham were surprised, impressed, maybe even in awe of Ed's intellectual prowess—that one look made the whole bathtub thing totally worth it.
"But Wayne's a privately owned company with a board of directors," Ed continued, wrinkling his nose as he thought it through. "You can't just like, hack the shareholders to devalue their stock options." Then he stopped, thinking again. "Unless you introduced some kind of virus to manipulate their market trading by making bad investments…"
Ed looked up to see Harley squinting at him suspiciously.
"What?" he asked, defensive.
"You're a bartender," Harley said warily. "How do you know anything about computers or stock options?"
"Um, I also have a photographic memory, Harley," Ed scoffed, fighting back a squeal of delight when she looked surprised—and maybe impressed—again.
"You have a—wait, never mind," she shook her head. "This is what we need Vicki for. We need her to find out what kind of damage Anarky can really do and warn them. She should be able to get behind the scenes at Wayne through Bruce."
"Then what?" Ed leaned forward eagerly.
"Then we get in Roman's way," Harley said confidently. "We don't let him or Daggett get what they want from Wayne."
"And then what?" Ed pressed, making Harley's eyes narrow, annoyed.
"Then we take out the False Face Society, one by one," she said stiffly. "We take away Roman's toys."
"How?" Ed cocked his head to the side and this time Harley scowled outright at him.
"When we get there, we'll reassess and get creative," she pitched forward, holding Ed's gaze intently. "Sometimes, the best plan is no plan at all. If you let things play out and bluff your way through it, people won't see you coming. We stir up some chaos, fly low when we have to, play to our strengths, and we win."
Ed's breath caught—he was being preached to by Harley Quinn. He was getting the full chaos indoctrination. She was teaching him. Guiding him to victory by her side.
"Okay," he agreed, nodding enthusiastically as Lee brought over a pot of something that smelled like saffron and garlic.
"I need to sleep," Harley announced, rubbing her hands over her face as the Joker flicked the butt of his latest cigarette out the window. Then they both walked into Lee's bedroom without another word and slammed the door shut behind them, leaving Lee and Ed staring after them.
"Rude," Ed tisked, a little bit disappointed that they weren't all going to sit down and eat dinner together like one big happy family. Okay, that may have been asking a bit much, but it would have been nice.
Ed slept on the couch while Lee took the bed in her spare room, and Ed listened in the dark for the Joker and Harley to talk or fuck or do something, but it appeared they were just sleeping. Boring.
Then in the morning, Harley reappeared, not looking particularly refreshed, and wearing a sporty combination of the electric-blue leggings from the day before with a neon orange sports bra, showing off a very hot little body indeed. Ed pouted at her flat stomach, jealous because he had this little pooch that he just couldn't get rid of.
Sadly, J did not take part in the morning's lesson—because it was a lesson—but having Harley dressed like Work Out Barbie as she explained her relationship with Vicki Vale more than made up for the lack of a hunky half-naked terrorist.
And Ed felt so special that she was sharing with him. She didn't really have a choice if he was going to be her liaison with Vicki, but she'd chosen him to be that liaison. She needed him to know everything. And that meant she told him allllll about her past with Vicki, including, to Ed's sheer delight, how to manipulate her.
She was teaching him again. Guiding him. And she needed him. Like a mother.
Mommy Harley.
"This is a test, isn't it?" he asked her slyly, sliding on his bloodied dress shoes from the fundraiser while Harley watched. "It's not just about getting Vicki to warn Wayne?"
Harley hummed dubiously, her expression giving nothing away as she handed over Lee's old Blackberry, which Ed would be using to stay in touch for the day.
"If it is a test," she met his eye, challenging him. "Then you better pass it."
Once Ed left, Harley seemed to deflate, the confidence that she was in control and knew what she was doing leaking out of her, leaving her anxious and antsy and feeling trapped, her big brain working overtime, which made the Joker reach for his cigarettes and zero in on the news because that energy was the fucking worst.
Was it risky sending Ed out into the world? Sure. He would either fuck them over immediately and they'd be dead by the end of the day, or he would come back, just as Lee had, and continue to make himself useful to them. The Joker was betting on option B, as he'd laid out to Harley, and she had nervously agreed.
She had a shower while Lee puttered around doing a deep clean, avoiding looking at the Joker, who watched her slyly. Harley reappeared sometime later, looking subdued, her hair wet. She was wearing a flimsy robe made of tangerine-colored silk, another item of Lee's from another time, he guessed. It wasn't quite see-through, but the silk clung to the soft curves of her small breasts, and it was short, drawing his attention to her legs, and what he knew very intimately to be beneath the hem.
The Joker stared at her as she moved around the apartment helping Lee clean, her platinum hair drying slowly into soft waves. He guessed the chances she was wearing anything under that robe were slim to none, which meant there was only an inch or two of flimsy fabric hiding her perfect, peach-like pussy from him.
And this thought carried him through at least two full hours, if not longer, of watching Harley and Lee clean, all sorts of sordid fantasies rolling through his mind, most of them involving Harley bending over and showing him what was beneath the hem of her robe.
That whole stressed out energy was still at an all-time high when Lee went to the store that afternoon to stock up on more food. She left Harley in the kitchen alphabetizing her spice rack, which seemed painfully boring and cruel. Harley planted herself in front of the kitchen counter, dutifully arranging dried spices and herbs with her eyes narrowed, completely focused on the task at hand so she wouldn't let her mind drift to all the uncertainty.
The Joker was pretty sure he could distract her better than a spice rack.
He crushed the remaining half of his cigarette out in an ashtray and got to his feet, rubbing a hand over the bandage curling around his side. The stab wound wasn't healed, but that wasn't enough to get in the way of what he intended to do next.
Harley looked up as he strolled into the kitchen, her eyes dipping down to the bandage and then back up to his face as he circled the counter. She looked a little hesitant because she was letting all that uncertainty bleed into everything she was thinking and feeling, questioning herself when she didn't need to. All she needed to do was follow her instincts, do what felt right, what felt good, and she would win. That was what he intended to remind her of now.
And maybe a few other lessons too.
She turned toward him as he drew closer, and she looked up at him with big, slightly wary blue eyes when he stopped beside her.
"Mm, that looks fun," he observed sarcastically, glancing at the spice rack before he placed a hand on her hip and rotated her back around, so she was facing the counter while he moved behind her.
Harley's eyes turned coy as she looked at him over her shoulder, and that was all the consent he needed to sneak a hand under her robe and grab her ass. He gave her a playful smack, which made her breath hitch in a very interesting way, making the Joker smirk as he pushed on her shoulder. She got the idea pretty quickly, bending forward so her elbows were braced on the kitchen counter, his hand on the middle of her back holding her there lightly. He squeezed her ass again, listening to her breathe shakily before he lowered himself to his knees behind her, a mildly uncomfortable task thanks to the stab wound, but worth it.
Harley was a symmetrical masterpiece from behind, her ass firm and lightly curved, her legs long and lean, and when she was bent over like this, the soft swell of her pussy was framed in the middle of her other assets like—he couldn't think of something creative, it was just perfect, and begging him to touch her. But the Joker made himself wait, his hand ghosting over the backs of her legs as she tried not to squirm, which was both amusing and incredibly arousing—the best possible combination, in his estimation.
He pitched forward when he felt he'd made her wait long enough, blowing on her pussy the way she liked before he traced the tip of his finger over her.
Harley sighed quietly, a little breathless already.
He smirked and did it again, slower this time, pressing against her slit teasingly before he dipped the tip of his finger inside her where - no surprise - she was already wet. He leaned forward to run his tongue over her, drawing a throaty, indulgent sound out of her, then went back to stroking her again, applying more pressure, and occasionally letting himself taste her until she was making this great panting sound, her hips twitching. Then he went all in, enthusiastically using his mouth to get her all riled up, and when time seemed right, he slipped a finger inside her, right up to the knuckle, drawing a wonderful cooing sound out of her.
"Oh, right there," she whined, bucking against his face when he found that sweet little spot that always drove her half-insane, forcing him to grab her ass with one hand to hold her in place. "Yes," she panted, right on the precipice, her body starting to flutter around his finger. "Ugh, I'm going to— "
The Joker pulled away abruptly, rising back to his feet with none of the discomfort that had come with getting down there. She huffed a hilarious, disgruntled sound that made him smirk as he fumbled with the button and zip on the cop's too-big too-short trousers, yanking them down so his cock sprang free.
Harley was braced on her elbows, her back arched as she peered at him over her shoulder. He grabbed her hip to hold her in place, hearing her breath catch again as he rubbed his cockhead over her a few times, teasing her, making her whine and wiggle, desperate to have him inside her.
He laid his hand on the base of her spine as he pushed into her, the happy little sounds she was making too encouraging to go slow. A ragged breath left him once his hips were pressed flush against her ass, her pussy soft and wet and as close to heaven as the Joker was ever liable to get.
Harley had never been shy about letting him know what she liked in bed. The first few times he fucked her were also the first times he saw her really let go. Loud and happy and as completely absorbed in him as he was in her. It wasn't performative—it was just real. He remembered thinking, imagine if she was like this all the time—unrestrained, limitless. And eventually, that's exactly who she allowed herself to become.
He shoved her down on the counter again, pulling a breathless sound out of her as she rocked back against him. He kept his hand on the middle of her back, holding her down, sensing a little submission might be good for her considering the dire need to control everything currently ripping her apart.
"Oh, fuck," she croaked when he pulled his hips back and drove into her hard.
She tried to push herself up but his hand on her back stopped her, and when she tried a second time, he shoved her down harder, and slapped her ass on an impulse. She made a loud, surprised, swooning sound, her body spasming around him.
Huh, he thought, and spanked her again, harder this time in the same reddened place, fucking her roughly and holding her down. Her back arched and she rose up on her toes, crying out as she came, her body squeezing his cock relentlessly, making him exhale raggedly.
He slowed down while she gasped and trembled, waiting for her to finish before he released her back and turned her around. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright and sleepy, and the Joker quickly yanked the sash holding the robe closed so he could slip his hands beneath it, curling around her narrow waist and lifting her up on the kitchen counter.
Harley was breathing hard, her small breasts rising and falling as she searched his face, anticipation and lust making her eyes glow.
It seemed a little submission was good for her.
They attacked each other at the same moment, pulling each other's hair as their mouths collided sloppily. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raked her nails down his back, her mouth leaving his to suck on his neck and lick one of his scars and bite his shoulder. He squeezed her ass and pulled her hair and rubbed his face against her neck, the kitchen melting away so there was only Harley. Then her mouth was on his again, and her hand was around his cock, guiding him inside her.
The Joker released a quiet growl once she was wrapped around him again, her hips bucking against his urgently. Her hands moved over him as she kissed him, over his back and his chest and his ribs, palming a stab wound that didn't seem to bother him in the slightest as she rubbed her tongue against his, breathing hard through her nose. Then she whined loudly, biting down on his bottom lip hard, only releasing him when she tasted blood.
She pulled away, licking her lips as she pitched back to brace her elbows against the kitchen counter. When he next thrust into her, her head fell back and she released a throaty moan, the new angle hitting that sweet spot for her, making her forget everything but the feeling of him inside her.
"Harder," she demanded breathlessly, digging her heels into his lower back, and he happily obliged her, his hips snapping into hers more erratically.
And there was something about fucking her in the kitchen of this nice middle-class apartment while she had that woman-of-leisure silk thing on that was so at odds with who they were, the Joker nearly laughed.
She sat up and threw her arms around his neck, her lips on his again. Her legs uncurled from his waist, and her knees pinched around his hips so she could kick off the kitchen counter, sending the Joker staggering backward. He hit the fridge, which rattled loudly, shit inside of it falling over as he struggled to hold onto her while she kissed him furiously, clinging to him and refusing to let him go. He settled for sliding down the fridge to sit on the floor, and once he was there she started rolling her hips against his frantically, groaning into his mouth as he tried to keep up, thrusting up into her harder, their breathing loud and ragged.
He slipped sideways until he was on his back, letting her take what she wanted from him. Harley fucked him with reckless abandon, panting and tossing her hair when it got in her eyes, and the Joker could do little more than hold onto her and watch, absolutely fucking delighted by her.
Before too long, his breath was shallow and his heartbeat sharp and pounding in his throat, and he knew he was close. He slipped a hand between them to help her along, circling her clit with his thumb and pressing on her abdomen with the heel of his hand, his teeth grinding together as he held himself back.
"Shit," she moaned, pitching forward. Her hands landed on his chest and slid up to his neck, closing around his throat. Then in an unexpected twist, she squeezed, hard.
For a brief moment, it did occur to the Joker that in the same way she'd accidentally killed those kids in the park, she could accidentally strangle him to death while she fucked him.
But what was life without a little risk?
And what a way to go out.
So, he gave in to it, growing light-headed as she started bucking against him wildly, her hands around his throat tightening while she made all kinds of wonderful sounds. He managed to hold his orgasm at bay until her body started to tremble and twitch, and she came again with a string of creative curses, her hands flexing rhythmically around his throat, her pussy throbbing around him.
That tension that came before relief was nearly suffocating, the dizziness that came with lack of oxygen intensifying everything as he came hard inside her. The Joker's head rolled back against the wood floor, euphoria washing over him in a dense, lingering wave that didn't seem to stop. She released his neck, allowing him to suck in a lungful of oxygen that only made his orgasm last longer while he blinked up at the kitchen lights stupidly.
Then Harley was hovering over him, panting weakly, her silvery-blonde hair glowing as his vision wobbled around the edges. She touched the side of his face gently, coming into sharper focus.
"Oh shit," she laughed breathlessly. "Are you okay?"
"Mmmmmhmmmmm," he managed to convey with a lazy nod.
"Sorry," Harley winced and laughed again, not looking very apologetic at all.
"Don't be," he smirked crookedly, sleepily, then rubbed his throat with one hand - it was fine - and slapped her ass with the other, making her suck in a startled breath.
"God," she bowed her head down, pressing her face against his neck. "I needed that," she mumbled into his skin.
"I always need that," the Joker muttered, slipping a hand into her hair, pulling it tight as their hearts slowed down, their breathing returning to normal, annoying things like Ed and Roman and all their bullshit fading to background noise.
Then she lifted her head, her face so beautiful for someone so rotten, and she kissed him.
"Let's take a shower," she murmured, pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth, and the Joker realized she was touching herself.
"You greedy slut", he mumbled, smirking when she giggled over their stupid joke. He knocked her hand out of the way so he could take over for her, inadvertently smearing cum over her, making her hum happily as she rocked her hips against his hand.
"You want me to make you come again?" he taunted her, his voice low and gravelly.
"Yeah," she breathed lustily in his ear, making his dick harden again as she pulled back to look at him, her eyes heavy. "I'm going to suck your cock so slow you're going to beg me to let you cum," she warned him with a sleepy smile.
"I never beg," he pointed out, fighting back a smirk. "I'm patient… unlike you."
"Oh, you're going to beg me today," Harley breathed, her voice low and silky as she ran her nails down his chest, nearly making him purr like a fucking kitten. She pulled back to look at him again, her platinum hair fluffy from having his fingers tangled in it, her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes bright but sleepy, radiating the promise of sex and the threat of violence in equal measure.
"And I want you to — "
But before she could finish the thought, there was a key scratching in the lock as Lee returned from her grocery shopping.
Harley and the Joker looked at each other, their eyes widening comically. The Joker's pants were around his ankles, and Harley's tight little body was hardly covered by that scrap of fabric hanging off her elbows. She jumped to her feet, pulling him with her and they scampered back into the bedroom, snickering as they pulled the door shut behind them.
Ed may have been a teensy, weensy, tiny, little, baby bit naughty.
He walked to the metro and hopped on a train downtown, as promised, but instead of getting off at 14th street for the Gotham Globe's HQ, he got off early at 3rd Avenue, and he took himself to Saks. After four days in a bathtub, Ed deserved something to make himself feel human, and he definitely didn't deserve to be wearing twenty-year-old Nordstrom Rack pants. Blah.
First, there was the matter of money. Ed nosed around the homeware section for a good thirty minutes before he saw the rich housewife he'd been waiting for. Ed picked her pocket easily —thank you, Alison —and headed straight up to menswear, feeling giddy as he thumbed through Helmut Lang shirts and Armani ties and Gucci sunglasses.
Because he was on a tight schedule, Ed went with what he knew would look amazing —a Givenchy suit. Black because he was lying low and blending in, but with a pale green shirt and matching tie. Ed had been told many times that green brought out the color in his hazel eyes.
Then shoes: white Jimmy Choo loafers with the most delicate gold chains. And socks: pink argyle from Dolce and Gabbana.
Ooh… D&G had purple too…
Ed checked the time on Lee's old phone - it was coming up to noon, and he was already running two hours behind schedule. He had five texts from Harley asking for an update, so he wrote back the truth: So good! To which she replied: ?!
Ed knew what would make her and J feel better.
He started with J. First, shoes: brown leather brogues - a little bit retro, very much a gentleman's shoe, and a whole lot of attitude. Then socks: purple argyle, obviously. Shirt: hmmm, a very, very pale lavender would be to die for beneath a navy suit with a proper pinstripe. Tie? Oooh… maroon.
Next, it was mommy's turn, and Ed couldn't believe he'd never come up with a reason to shop for womenswear before. It was glorious, and he spent a full hour agonizing over what to buy Harley. Chanel, Prada, Valentino, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci, Celine. They were all calling Harley's name, but he settled on a little bubble-gum-pink Dior number—tight on top to highlight that fantastic little waist of hers, with a short, balloon-like skirt to show off those gorgeous legs.
He bought Harley some shoes too—slouchy half-calf boots in cream-colored leather. Practical, stylish, and sassy as hell.
Finally, ten grand on Alison's AMEX and a whole lot of bags for his new family later, Ed was ready to meet Vicki Vale.
He grabbed a cab from out front of Saks, beaming out the window at the sheer luxury of taking a cab twelve blocks.
And then it was showtime.
"Hi, there," Ed grinned at the receptionist on the ground floor, bracing his elbow on her desk. "I'm here to see Vicki Vale."
"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked, nice as anything.
"Actually, this is kind of a surprise!" Ed widened his eyes and pulled out Lee's old Blackberry. "She doesn't even know I'm in town! I'd text her but I've got this crappy phone and I just can't get it to work." He sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders before smiling again. "Any who, do you think you could tell her Arthur Smiley is here? And let her know my cousin Ann is dying to talk to her."
"Sure," the receptionist winked at Ed and dialed a few numbers. "Hey Betty, I've got a friend of Vicki's down here. Is she free? His name is Arthur Smiley."
Ed waited patiently, smiling and examining the Saks bags hanging from his arms, feeling so happy and satisfied with his new possessions, and wondering how Harley and J would react. He didn't expect them to be outwardly gracious, that just wasn't their style, but maybe he'd run into them sometime in the future, and she'd be wearing those boots or he'd be wearing that tie, and even though the truce would be over, they'd all remember what a great time they had taking down Black Mask together.
"Okay, Mr Smiley," the receptionist beamed, grabbing a visitor's pass and handing it to Ed. "Elevator to the tenth floor, Vicki'll be waiting for you there!"
"Thank you, sweetie," Ed cooed, giving her a sickly-sweet smile before he pranced over to the elevators, his shopping bags swinging cheerfully.
It was a short ride up to the tenth floor, and Ed was in such a fantastic mood he knew the old ADHD was about to start acting up. So, he took a moment to breathe deeply, concentrate on the job mommy had given him so he could prove to her that he was worth the trust she'd placed in him. There would be nothing —nothing —more satisfying than having Harley admit she was proud of him.
More satisfying than even Givenchy or Dior.
The elevator doors opened, revealing Vicki Vale, her pale blonde hair tied up in a sloppy ponytail, her outfit cute as hell—basic white tee-shirt, black wide-leg trousers, white sneakers—like a modern-minimalist Annie Hall, or Vogue's street-style editor keeping it real at Paris fashion week.
Vicki's eyes widened incredulously when she saw Ed, and she froze up like she didn't know how to react. Ed's face split into a huge grin and he spread his arms wide, his shopping bags rustling.
"Vicki! Darling!" He sang, pulling her in for a hug and lifting her off her feet while her assistant and some fat guy with a camera stared at them. Okay. Dial it down, Ed decided, setting her back down.
"Hi, Arthur," Vicki said shakily, stepping away from him. "I didn't realize you were in town." She glanced at the Saks bags. "Looks like you got some shopping in."
"You know me, always shopping!" Ed grinned. "So, let me see this swanky new office of yours!"
Vicki plastered on something close to a smile, looking very strained as she gestured for Ed to follow her into her corner office. It was a very nice office with views of Midtown, and two comfy-looking white sofas, a wafer-thin MacBook sitting open in sleep mode like she hadn't really been working before Ed arrived.
Ed flopped down on one of the couches, crossing his legs primly and smiling as Vicki pushed her office door shut. She paused for a moment before turning to face Ed, her expression stormy.
"Alright who the hell are you?" she demanded, lingering near the door like she thought she might need to make a quick escape.
"I'm Ed," he explained, laying a hand over his heart. "Harley sent me to talk to you."
"Harley sent you to talk to me?" she huffed, her eyes narrowing. "Did she send Frost too?"
Ed refrained from reacting, remembering the bleach blonde bodybuilder type who'd been with Harley and the Joker the day of the fundraiser. For the briefest of moments, Ed felt betrayed that Harley would send Frost to Vicki first, a very hurtful idea. Then Ed reminded himself that Harley hadn't left the apartment or spoken to anyone in four days. That meant Frost had gone to Vicki on his own. Maybe even trying to trick her for Black Mask.
"And what did Frost have to say?" Ed asked, smiling.
"Oh, no. No way," Vicki shook her head furtively. "How do I know if Harley really sent you? I have no idea who you are."
Ed smothered a grin. God, what an opening.
"I tease your mind and taunt your tongue," he smirked at her, leaning forward. "To only the sharpest minds will the right answer come." He watched her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "Who am I?"
As Vicki continued to stare at him, Ed cupped his hands around his mouth.
"I'm the Riddler," he whispered loudly, then pressed a finger against his lips like it was a secret.
Which it definitely was. Ed's Grannie had a bad heart and would not react well to the news that he was the Riddler.
"You're… the Riddler?" Vicki half-collapsed onto the sofa across from him, stunned. "Harley sent the Riddler to talk to me?"
"She's my friend too," Ed shrugged, remembering Harley's advice about hooking Vicki with a good story. "Or at least we are for now. We're teaming up to take down Black Mask."
"Well…" Vicki sputtered. "Well, where is she?"
"Laying low," Ed sighed. "Black Mask almost killed her boyfriend so she's looking after him."
"Right," Vicki nodded, struggling to accept what she was hearing. "So that's what happened after the fundraiser."
"Vicki," Ed said kindly, leaning forward and forcing her to meet his eye. There were some things they needed to clear up. "When did Frost come talk to you?"
"Yesterday," she admitted reluctantly.
"And what did he have to say?" Ed continued, as sweet as anything.
"He was looking for Harley and the Joker," Vicki said slowly. "I told him everything I know…"
"Oh, you did, huh?" Ed cringed. Yeesh, civilians.
"He was worried about them," Vicki insisted, understanding what Ed was thinking. "He wasn't working for Black Mask."
"Okay," Ed agreed breezily, moving on. "So, anyway, Harley—"
"No," Vicki shook her head again. "No, I want to speak to her."
"She's not available at the moment," Ed offered her a pinched smile. "But I am. And I was hoping to talk to you about your boyfriend's company."
Vicki paled at that.
"Does Harley know something?" she asked.
"Well, we all know Black Mask wants to destroy Wayne Enterprises and maybe even hurt your tasty boy-toy too," Ed feigned a sympathetic wince, playing up the Bruce Card as Harley had instructed. "And a very good friend—a very valuable friend—of the Joker's has disappeared. We're wondering if they might be connected."
"A valuable friend?" Vicki narrowed her eyes, her interest in the story overtaking her concern for her boyfriend.
Ooh, no wonder Harley liked her.
"His name is Anarky," Ed explained. "He's a hacker. A good one. And Roman has him."
"And what does Harley expect me to do about that?" Vicki demanded, looking a little bit angry now.
"We think Roman's gonna use Anarky to um…" Ed rolled his eyes up thoughtfully. "Harm Wayne Enterprises. Ya know, cyber-attack style."
Vicki seemed to deflate into the couch cushions, running a hand over her face as she stared at Ed's fabulous new loafers.
"Do you think you could, ya know, ask Bruce who might know what kinda damage Anarky can do?" Ed ducked down, catching her eye again. "So we can try to get ahead of them? Make sure nothing bad happens to Bruce or his family's company?"
"Maybe," Vicki murmured, her face darkening as she looked Ed square in the eye. "I want to talk to Harley first," she insisted. "In person."
"Yeah," Ed winced. "I don't think…"
"Those are my conditions," Vicki raised her chin. "She wants me to look into her missing hacker? I want to talk to her about it in person."
Ed sucked on his teeth, sighing fitfully before he nodded.
Maybe a little pink Dior would get Harley out of the house…
"I'll see what I can do," he agreed, and pulled out Lee's phone, waving it at her with a cheeky smile. "Wanna give me your number?"
Vicki hesitated a moment, then stood up and walked over to her desk, picking up a burner. She thumbed around on it for a moment, then handed it to Ed, who shot her a wink before typing her number into Lee's Blackberry.
"Just one more thing," Ed added, drawing her phone out of her reach when she went to take it back. "You wouldn't happen to have Frost's number, would you? If he's looking for Harley and J, maybe I should, ya know, link them up."
Just think how much it would impress Harley if Ed tracked down one of their favorite henchmen for them. At least he assumed Frost was a favorite. It felt like he was the last man standing that day of the fundraiser, and if he was coming looking for them like he cared…
Or, he could have been flipped by Black Mask.
Tricky. Very tricky.
"Okay," Vicki agreed numbly, gesturing to the phone. "He's in there as Jonny."
"Jonny Frost," Ed sang with a little chuckle as he typed Frost's number into Lee's phone and saved it. "What a name, amiright?"
There was a knock on the door but before Vicki could say anything the fat guy with the camera poked his head in, looking around suspiciously.
"Alex," Vicki snapped, irritated. "Do you remember our conversation about knocking?"
"Jeez, Vale, I'm just makin' sure everything's okay," Alex drawled, eyeing Ed warily, doing a bad job of playing it cool.
"This is my friend Arthur," Vicki explained, gesturing to Ed, who was rising to his feet and collecting all his lovely bags.
"Pleasure," Ed purred, his eyes rolling over Alex's awful polyester-blend shirt before he turned back to Vicki. "This has been delightful," he cooed, giving her a peck on the cheek.
Her face still looked strained but determined now.
She was officially on the team, Ed thought, his smile growing.
"I'll let Ann know about tonight!" he added as he breezed out of the office, shooting Vicki a wink over his shoulder.
Lee was not surprised to return home to find the bedroom door closed and the television on loud. Since Ed departed, the apartment had been tense, a different brand from Harley's high octane anxiety, and it mostly came down to the Joker staring at Harley, very obviously in lust. Lee remembered what it was like to have someone look at you that way, but there was something violent about the intensity with which the Joker ogled Harley.
Lee Thompkins was not a stupid woman, and regardless of what the colorful occupants of her apartment believed, she wasn't easily manipulated either.
No, Lee was pragmatic, and she didn't want to die.
Instead of going to the police when she had the chance, Lee made the choice to continue helping three wanted terrorists. They wouldn't need her help forever, but she already knew she wouldn't go to the cops when they left. In part because the longer she held off, the more guilty she looked, but she also had no doubt the police wouldn't be able to protect her if she gave evidence against the Joker, Harley Quinn or the Riddler. She would just have to protect herself.
But Lee had also become fond of these deeply flawed but strangely beautiful human beings, each of whom terrified her and surprised her in their own unique ways
The Joker was thoroughly impenetrable, but Lee believed she'd seen a glimpse of who Harley Quinn was beneath her malice and charm. A fellow pragmatist who took too much on her own shoulders. Someone who needed a friend. And even though Lee knew Harley was capable of horrible things, she couldn't help but like her.
So-called 'good' people did horrible things all the time. The difference was Harley didn't lie about who she was.
Then there was Ed. Ed didn't have a partner like the Joker and Harley had each other, and it was obvious he was a novice at this particular… lifestyle. Ed was as dangerous as he was sweet, and he needed support that Lee felt compelled to give.
Maybe they were manipulating her, but frankly, Lee was too damn old to care.
Besides, who didn't want to have the Riddler and Harley Quinn as secret friends?
It sure wasn't boring.
Lee sighed as she put away the groceries and pulled a cookbook off the shelf, trying to decide what she would make for dinner, when there was a sudden crash in the bedroom, making her head snap up. She set the cookbook aside and eyed the closed door warily when it happened again, the dull thud of the dresser hitting the wall fighting to be heard over the TV.
And then again, a few seconds later, and again, and again in rapid succession after that.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
Lee licked her lips, realizing what she was hearing, and without really meaning to, she drifted out of the kitchen and into the living room, stopping in front of the bedroom door.
The thud-thud-thud of the dresser hitting the wall was getting louder, and now Lee was close enough she could hear soft, breathless sounds despite the noise of the television. She laid her hand on the door, her heart suddenly pounding in her throat, and without bothering to question what she was doing, she leaned forward to press her ear against the wood. She could hear Harley gasping weakly, and she could hear the Joker's voice, low and raspy as the dresser continued banging into the wall.
Lee closed her eyes and let her imagination pick up the slack.
Ed and Frost agreed to meet at Ed's diner downtown, where Ed stuck out like a sore thumb among the working-class types who frequented it for lunch.
Frost was late, which gave Ed time to slurp down a couple of milkshakes and flirt with the redheaded waitress in her cute teal uniform. Harley hadn't texted him in hours, making Ed wonder what she'd been getting up to back at Lee's apartment if she wasn't sitting around fretting over him, which she'd obviously been doing that morning.
Finally, Frost appeared, built like a brick shithouse and dressed like your average Gotham thug. Straight leg jeans (oh the humanity!) a members-only jacket (why would you do that to yourself?) and scuffed work boots that would never have been very nice anyway (tragic). He was fantastically tanned though, and his bleach blonde ponytail told Ed that beneath that muscled manly-man exterior lurked someone with a sense for aesthetics who would enjoy a nice suit. Or maybe a Hawaiian-print shirt.
The last time Ed met Frost, he hadn't been introduced, he'd just heard Harley and J say his name in passing when they gave him orders or wanted his attention. But mostly they treated him like he was invisible unless they needed him at any given moment. It made Ed wonder what his henchmen—or henchwomen, there was an idea— would be like when he inevitably got them. That was something to get excited about. They could have uniforms. Ooh.
"Hello again, Jonny," Ed beamed as Frost slid into the booth across from him.
"Hiya, Ed," Frost rumbled in his soft baritone. He folded his hands on top of the chrome table and looked at Ed expectantly.
"So, you went to see Vicki, huh," Ed smirked, planting his chin on his knuckles. "And you got her to tell you everything about Black Mask?"
Frost didn't say anything, he just continued to look at Ed expectantly like he was waiting for him to come to a point.
"I'm just saying," Ed rolled his eyes. "It's kinda dangerous for her to be going around telling everyone all our secrets. I mean you could have been anyone."
"Harley trusts her," Frost countered simply. "I do too."
"Right," Ed narrowed his eyes.
"Vicki called me after she saw you today," Frost continued, cocking his head to the side. "She says you told her Roman almost killed the Joker, and he and Harley have been hiding out the last few days."
There was something a little bit judgy in Frost's voice that Ed didn't like.
Also, what the hell was with Vicki being willing to speak to Frost, a random henchman, but not Ed, who was officially part of the team?
"How nice that you two are best friends," Ed simpered.
"The thing is, Ed, the only way Roman woulda been able to get to Harley and the boss in the first place is through you," Frost said, his expression hard to read. "But I figure the only way you woulda known Harley and Vicki are friends is if Harley told you herself. And that makes me figure you know where they are, and you three have come to some kinda… arrangement."
He lifted his eyebrows expectantly, and Ed felt judged again, making him huff indignantly. He wanted to counter with something sassy, but he reminded himself that this was about impressing Harley. He could always kill Frost later.
"Yes, that's the long and short of it," Ed agreed, forcing a smile that made his nose wrinkle.
"Well, that's good news to me, Ed," Frost nodded amicably. "Now tell me this, how's the boss doing?"
"He's fine," Ed shrugged carelessly.
"Fine as is in he ain't gonna die, or fine as in he's up and walkin' around?"
"Fine as in he and Harley are already um…" Ed giggled and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"I got it," Frost held up a hand, stopping him. "Well, that's good to hear too, Ed."
Ed made a face. This guy was so boring. "So, what happens now?" he demanded, getting annoyed.
"If you don't mind, Ed, I'd like ya to tell the boss I haven't flipped, in case he's worried about it," Frost said with a shrug. "In fact, I've got someone for him and Harley to meet tonight if they're up for it."
"Who?" Ed's eyes widened.
Frost met Ed's gaze and held it, considering his next words carefully.
"You like surprises, Ed?" he asked at length.
"Um… no?" Ed squinted at Frost.
"Well, here's the thing. We're all playin' by Moscow Rules right now," Frost hunched forward, spreading his hands. "So, I'm reckoning it'd be better if you three come back here tonight, about eleven o'clock. And we'll have a little powwow. How's that sound to you?"
"Moscow rules?" Ed frowned, hunching forward too. "Hang on, how do we know you're not just setting up a trap, huh? Like we show up here tonight and Black Mask and all his thugs are here waiting to kill us?"
"I'll tell you what, Ed," Frost nodded. "You tell the boss what I told ya, and you see what he says. He's got good instincts about these things."
"Hmm," Ed narrowed his eyes. Frost was looking at him expectantly again, not impatiently, but like he had all the time in the world. It was risky, but something told Ed that Harley would appreciate risky. "Okay," Ed conceded. "I'll talk to J, and we'll text you if we're free."
"That sounds good to me, Ed," Frost said, standing up quickly, and fixing Ed with a pointed look. "Now you be careful not to be followed on your way back to the boss and Harley, alright?" He wagged a finger at Ed, making Ed's eyes widen. "I'd be real unhappy if something bad happened to them."
Ed's scoffed indignantly as Frost left.
Harley's head rolled back against the tangled sheets, her skin hot against the cool bedding, her body electrified and hyper-sensitive, though her brain felt like she was falling through a sinkhole she would never climb out of.
The Joker cleared his throat meaningfully, prompting Harley to look down at him where he was perched between her legs off the side of the bed, his elbow braced beside her hip. He lifted an amused eyebrow at her.
"Come on," Harley whined impatiently, making a smirk spread across his lips.
After exhausting each other over the course of the afternoon, they'd taken a nap, followed by a game they'd been playing for the better part of an hour. There weren't any hard and fast rules, but the idea was essentially orgasm denial until one of them caved. However, caving didn't really count as losing, which made quantifying what counted as winning even less easy to define.
Harley caved first some twenty minutes earlier. She'd felt the Joker's hand tighten in her hair as he released a rough breath, letting her know he was close, but instead of pulling away again, she kept going, forgoing her desire to make him beg for the almost-equally strong desire to make him cum for her. And now she was ready, after an hour of being brought to the precipice but not allowed to fall over the edge, she was lazy and tingling and a little annoyed that he wasn't letting her, making her desperate to find relief.
Which was kind of the brilliant point of the game anyway.
The Joker brushed his finger down the hollow where her thigh met her body, rolling his eyes out to the side, feigning thoughtfulness and making Harley smile. Then he climbed back on the bed, his cock hard and bobbing against his stomach as his eyes drifted over her. The tangerine-silk robe she'd yet to take off was open and fanned out around, her hair messy after alternating between writhing on the bed and sucking his dick for the better part of an hour. She braced herself on her elbows, the silk slipping down her shoulder as she looked up at the Joker, feeling a needy throb between her legs.
He grabbed her, making her shriek when he flipped her over like a rag doll. Harley laughed breathlessly as she landed on her elbows and knees, the bed squeaking around her. But before she had a chance to recalibrate, he was kneeling behind her, sinking into her, and making her groan as she rocked back against him, trying to take him deeper. His hand landed on her lower back, the pressure of his palm holding her in place as his hips snapped forward, and she moaned into the bedding as a more head-spinning brand of arousal spread through her entire body, the kind only his cock could give her.
Harley's pulse started leaping in her throat and her wrists as she closed her eyes and indulged in the deep, lazy sex. She hummed weakly, rocking her hips back to meet his languid thrusts, the slow build of pleasure making her lips part in a quiet sigh.
Then, quite unexpectedly, J slapped her ass, hard. Harley's eyes flew open, the sharp, stinging, lingering pain like having a bucket of cold water poured over her head. She tried twisting around to glare at him, but he grabbed her hair, pulling it so hard she gasped and was forced up onto her hands as he started to fuck her harder.
Harley swore breathlessly when he used his grip on her hair to force her head all the way back, making her spine arch, her eyes rolling because it felt so... Good. He spanked her again, hitting the same tender area, the excess of sensation sending a spasm of pleasure straight to her core.
Harley gasped weakly, prompting him to spank her again, harder this time, pulling another weak, breathless whine out of her, a confusing blend of pleasure, surprise, and just a little bit of pain making her body squeeze his cock tighter as she cried out, feeling dizzy with desire.
He pulled her hair harder until her scalp started to sting. Realizing what he wanted, Harley pushed herself up so she was upright on her knees, and one of his arms looped around her waist to hold her against him. Harley's eyelids fluttered as the Joker sat back on his heels behind her, pulling her down on him firmly, the new angle even more intense.
She groaned throatily, her head falling back against his shoulder. One of her arms swung up to curl around his neck behind her, her fingers winding into his hair to hold him in place as he pressed his nose against the side of her neck, his breath hot and heavy on her jugular.
"Touch me," she begged, resisting the urge to touch herself, her swollen clit begging for the attention she needed to come apart. He seemed to sense what she was thinking and grabbed her wrist, wrenching her arm behind them, his grip almost crushing as he pressed his cheek against hers, his heart pounding against her back.
"Oh, no, no, no," he growled in her ear. "Not yet."
"Please," Harley gasped, feeling like she was hanging off a cliff's edge, her entire body poised to explode. "Jack, please," she breathed, sounding half insane.
He muttered something she couldn't make out in her hair, his thrusts becoming more erratic as Harley spiraled into a frenzy of pleading absolute nonsense. Then he caved, his hand sneaking between her legs, his fingers circling her clit as he squeezed her close.
Harley came with a string of high-pitched cries, the orgasm that had been building for almost an hour nearly splitting her in two as she struggled fitfully against him.
He was breathing hard against her cheek as she started to come down from the high of pleasure, her arms falling limp by her side, her body still spasming around his cock, which was still hard and buried inside her. If he hadn't been holding her up, she would have fallen face-first onto the bed, but instead, her head lolled back against his shoulder, and she gazed up at him blearily, realizing he hadn't finished.
"I win," she said sleepily, her hand covering the back of his on her thigh.
"Debatable," he muttered, shooting her a faint smirk before he pressed her down onto him, making her eyes close as she sighed indulgently.
She rolled her head in a lazy circle before twisting around to look up at him again, her lips curving into an amused smirk.
"C'mere," she demanded, her head tipping back, and he chuckled throatily before kissing her. His tongue swept into her mouth as Harley started to roll her hips against him, drawing him in and out of her body languidly. One of his hands smoothed down her ribs and her stomach, over her hip to the inside of her thigh, his thumb brushing her clit briefly as he growled into her mouth, his chest vibrating against her back.
Then he pulled away from her abruptly, manhandling her off him and flipping her onto her back. He pitched forward over her, and Harley's knees butterflied open for him as he slid into her again, her head falling back until he grabbed her hair and forced her to face him.
He wanted to see her face, Harley realized as he started to fuck her slowly, steadily, his mouth occasionally dipping down to her breasts to pull on her nipples with his teeth, making them oversensitive so each brush of his tongue sent a fresh rush of pleasure shooting through her. Her legs curled around his waist as she pressed her nose against his wrist where his hand was braced beside her head, feeling the thread that would create new scars there, and his pulse throbbing beneath the surface.
"Faster," she murmured, digging her nails into his back as he sucked on her shoulder, probably leaving a bruise there, but she didn't care. He released her skin to look at her again, his hips snapping faster against hers before he grabbed her waist and rolled them over so she was on top, letting her take what she wanted from him as he was so fond of watching her do.
Harley started to bounce up and down more forcefully, the bed squeaking loudly, his hands on her hips guiding her as she found a faster rhythm that would satisfy both of them. He slipped a hand between them to rub her clit, making Harley's back arch and her hips swing against his hard. She panted weakly as she looked down at him, his dark eyes glowing up at her, watching her fuck him like he was watching something fascinating.
Then he sat up, his hands on her hips wrenching her body back and forth, making Harley whine. She looped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair as he ducked his head down to pull one of her breasts into his mouth, tugging on her sore nipples with his teeth, pulling a high, breathless sound out of Harley as her pussy clenched around him.
"Oh, fuck," Harley groaned, her head falling back as another orgasm spiraled through her, weaker but still intense, sending waves of pleasure spreading from her core throughout her entire body. She felt him finish inside her, his scarred mouth against her ear, mumbling something Harley couldn't make out, but was pretty sure consisted of praise for her anatomy.
She slumped against him, breathing hard, feeling his pulse pounding against her cheek as he panted into her hair, and after a solid thirty seconds of feeling too lazy to move, he lifted his head to smirk at her.
"I win," he purred smugly.
Harley laughed and punched his shoulder weakly, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell back on the bed, pulling her with him.
For the first time in almost a week, Harley was glad she was trapped in Lee's apartment, and now she found herself wishing they never had to leave. Sure, she would go stir crazy eventually, but for now, she never wanted to move again, not while she was sweaty and relaxed and tangled up with the Joker on a soft bed with clean sheets where she could fuck him whenever she felt like it.
After a while he rolled his head towards her, his eyes narrowing curiously.
"Why are you callin' me Jack, huh?" he asked.
Harley's eyes widened, remembering that 'Jack' had slipped out in the heat of the moment when she hadn't been thinking clearly.
"It just slipped out," she shrugged. He was the Joker to her as far as she was concerned. J if she was speaking directly to him and sometimes about him. Jack was foreign, and it felt weird to think of him that way. Like meeting his parents, when neither of them even had parents. "Do you hate it?" she asked carefully.
He shrugged carelessly. "I don't care what you call me... Puddin'."
Harley shot him a dubious look. "See, I really do hate that."
"So high maintenance," he rolled his eyes, then shot her a wicked look, making Harley chuckle until she remembered something, and groaned.
"I called you Jack in front of Ed," she admitted, unsure how he'd feel about it. "When you were… you know, dying."
"Yeah, I remember," he sighed like it had all been a terrible inconvenience, then he glanced at her sideways. "It sounds way better when you're beggin' me to let you come."
Harley snorted, pleased that he didn't, in his usual fashion, give a shit, even if it was a shame that Ed knew, and who the hell knew what Ed would do with that information.
"Since when do you want to spank me, huh?" she asked, changing the subject, and the Joker shot her a bizarre look like he thought she was crazy.
"Uh, since I realized how much you love it," he countered, his mouth twitching up on one side.
"I do not," Harley narrowed her eyes.
He scoffed incredulously and hauled himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her, his eyebrows raised.
"Sure, you do, you just don't want to admit it cause you think it's a uh," he rotated his hand in a circle, searching for the word. "Mm, a… cliché," he settled on, squinting at her owlishly.
"I don't like being infantilized," Harley protested, making him roll his eyes.
"It's not like you're callin' me daddy, Harl," he shot her a smug, knowing look. "You don't think I can tell when you like something?"
Harley fought back a smile, knowing it was futile arguing with him, and that she should expect to be spanked with some frequency for the foreseeable future so he could prove his point. He wasn't wrong either, her body seemed to be a fan of the sharp, surprising sting so close to where she was most sensitive, kicking everything up a notch, making it more intense. And discussing it with him like this just made her feel so… warm and fuzzy that they were so… together.
"And how do you know what I like?" she asked coyly, wanting to make the most of the time they had left.
"Mm," he growled as his eyes swept over her body. "Usually when you're all… wet and squirmy I know I'm on the right track," he shifted forward so he was hovering over her, toying with a lock of her hair as his eyes dipped down to her lips. "And you fuckin' love it when I talk dirty to you."
Harley's thighs squeezed together as she felt a sudden flash of blatant lust roll through her, followed swiftly by stubbornness over not wanting him to know he was right.
"And I know you really like it when I make you beg," he continued, his voice low, his eyes hooded as his fingers trailed down her arm, pushing the tangerine silk aside so he could trace the scar where she got shot by a good samaritan. "Cause you know the longer I make you wait... the harder you're gonna come," he looked up at her slyly, and Harley felt her pulse leap as his fingers drifted over her ribs, tracing one lightly. "And we both know how much you like sucking my cock," His fingers drifted down her side, following the curve of her waist to her hip. "Almost as much as you love it when I lick your pussy, nice and slow and slippery, just the way you like it."
Harley's stomach tensed as his fingers trailed along the curve of her hip bone and across her abdomen, her toes curling.
"And what else do you think I like," she asked softly, making his lips twitch in a smile.
"I'm thinking... considering all those nice sounds you were making earlier, you like it when I hold you down and fuck you from behind." He growled, squeezing her as he drew closer, his eyes heavy lidded, his nose touching hers. "And you got very… frisky when I let you get a little bit ah… rough with me on the kitchen floor."
"Let me," she scoffed, making him chuckle. "As if you don't love all of that too," she added, looking down at his cock, which was hard again, and pressed against her thigh.
He shrugged helplessly. "What can I say," he drawled. "I'm just a generous guy."
Harley laughed and shifted up onto her elbow, shoving his shoulder. He fell back against the bed, letting her plant her hand on the other side of his head so she was hovering over him, just a few inches from his face. He was smiling at her a little sleepy, and something about that look, which was reserved exclusively for her, along with all his other secrets, made her heart leap as she searched his face.
"You're mine," Harley said slyly, pushing a lank flop of hair off his face and tucking it behind his ear. She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to challenge her.
"Mm, how terrible for me," the Joker smirked, sliding his hand into her hair. "I'll tell ya what, if we survive this shit, I'll let ya put a collar on me and you can walk me around on a leash."
Harley threw back her head and laughed then beamed down at him.
"Now that's a pretty good reason to stay alive," she agreed, leaning down to kiss him as she shifted on top of him, his hands sliding up her legs to grab her ass as her tongue swept into his mouth.
But then, because the universe is an unusually cruel place, the front door banged open.
"Honeys! I'm home!" Ed sang loudly, slamming the front door shut.
"No," Harley whined, the Joker's fingers digging into her sharply as he growled, very unhappily.
Theoretically, Ed returning was a win. But it didn't feel that way right now.
Ed pounded on the bedroom door, making it rattle in its frame.
"Great news, you two babes!" he shouted through the door. "Come on out when you're finished fucking!"
The Joker lurched up, knocking Harley off him as he made to stand, probably to kill Ed. But Harley grabbed his arm, yanking him back.
"Later, when this is all over," she reassured him, her eyes narrowing at the door. "I want it to be slow and painful."
"Mmm," the Joker growled, agreeing.
A/N: Soooooo much smut and fluff!
I love this chapter. I feel like everyone is shining and in character and growing and being their best, most-complex selves. It's the best, most fun smut I've ever written I think. I love writing Harley & the Joker figuring out what they like in bed together.
And LEE! Lee you naughty thing! Giving into a little voyeurism. Oh, the corrupting influence of curiosity.
On a real life note – it's 1 November today. If you are American and you haven't already, PLEASE VOTE. I am begging you.
I'm also begging you to review because I'm needy as hell. The funny thing about smutty chapters is y'all just kind of disappear. Which is both disappointing for me because I LIVE for your comments, and hilarious because I know you're just blushing like wild and dealing with your feelings.
So, to be concise. Please review or comment!
xo