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Warnings:
There is a reason this story has the rating it does.
Graphic content ahead.
Proceed with caution.
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Pygmalion
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Chapter 2
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"Pain is real when you get other people to believe in it. If no one believes in it but you, your pain is madness or hysteria." – Naomi Wolf
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Back in her old life, when she had been Harleen Quinzel, she always remembered how much she was intrigued by extreme personalities.
There was really no time she could remember not being interested in the subject. Harleen had a normal existence, with an average family life and circumstances. There was absolutely no reason as to why she would be so interested in people who were extraordinary. There was really nothing all that significant about her life, nothing weird or out of the ordinary.
Well, except that … one thing.
Her … "skin condition" as people had called it.
Yes, she was pale. She was all white, a walking ghost among mortals. Her skin, her hair, even her eyes were all a startling bleached lack of color.
The response had not been … as understanding.
When she was very young, she distinctly remembered an entire group of people stopping to stair at her, the looks on their faces so hard to read. She was different. Their looks were cruel and hating, mixed with disgust and annoyance.
What … a … freak …
Those words whispered inside her head constantly. The presence inside her head continued to into her mind, relentless in its taunting. It grew and grew, until she realized it had been talking to her. It whispered things in her head.
Told her to do things.
What worthless rats. They aren't even people, nothing but vermin.
There was only one thing to do with vermin.
And so the next time those stupid cheeky animals set their sights on her, she was prepared.
It was the first time she ever made anyone "disappear".
And she loved it.
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"Curiosity is natural to the soul of man and interesting objects have a powerful influence on our affections." – Daniel Boone
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By the time that Harleen had become Dr. Quinzel, she had mastered the art of disguise. There was nothing a wig and theater paint could not hide. This mask had been the easiest one she had to don for all the people around her. The mask of having to pretend she didn't want to make all kinds of people disappear had been even harder to bear.
That was one of the reasons she liked crazy people better than sane ones.
They were crazy, but at least they were themselves around her. They were braver than any of the "sane" people she knew. In a way, she almost envied their courage.
Everyone else was simply wearing a mask. Harleen could see them. They were usually emotions; greed, lust, pride. Each and every one of them were pathetic cowards. Then again, she was the same so for a long time she did nothing.
That was before she came across the most fascinating case she'd ever seen.
A patient in Arkham Asylum that she had petitioned for months to be able analyze; one that was only identified as his alias, the Joker.
She read and reread his file. She went through every piece of research and studied every session interpretation. Everything about the man was fascinating. A murderer who did so without any other motive other than the satisfaction of the kill itself. Most criminals killed for business, a result of a bad deal or to keep someone quiet. It had always been to cover up their trail or gain them more money or power. But this man, this so-called clown, simply killed because it brought him the ultimate joy.
Death and chaos fed his very soul.
But there was only so much she could get without speaking to him herself. She needed direct contact, something in front of her so she could look with her own eyes.
It took a lot of persuasion and sometimes even begging, but she finally got it. She was assigned to be the Joker's doctor.
That was why on that fateful night, she sneaked in at night to simply catch a glimpse of her subject. She didn't want to be caught off guard; she knew he had the most intimidating of appearances.
It was that night that she found something she could not stand for.
Her boss, the very man that hired her and she trusted, was torturing the very patients he claimed he was trying to cure. He strapped them to the table and delighted in their screams as their consciousness, their very souls, were being completely fried from their brains forever. No, not her patients, not the people she'd been nurturing for months. She knew their dreams and ambitions, and it was all they had left in this horrible world that had taken everything else away from them.
She would not allow that.
In that instant, Harleen remembered seeing red and blue for the first time. Several cracked skulls and broken necks later, she had been attempting to liberate the patient from the electro-stock therapy table when it happened.
She should have made sure that last one had been dead.
After that, she felt the identity of Harleen slowly but painfully fry itself out of her brain. Her muffled screams were the only thing left of the good doctor as she endured the pain. It was sheer luck that she was able to break free.
The next thing she knew, she had been tearing out someone's throat with her own teeth.
Harleen was gone; she died on that table. The mask of Dr. Quinzel was gone forever.
Only Harley Quinn was left.
And she didn't care who lived or died anymore.
Rain dissolved all the paint and destroyed the wig, her actions destroying her clothes. After that, Harley did the first fun thing that came to mind; she simply opened every single cell in the entire asylum … just so she had an excuse to kill some more.
She had no idea that there had been a few people that actually escaped.
It had been the most liberating night of her life. One by one, they fell like the walking meat sacks they were. The guards were the best ones to play with; they were actually armed. The air had been filled with such exciting sounds; pop, boom, crash! They only fueled her laughter.
It had been such a fun rebirth.
It was short-lived however. All it took was one little taser, and she was out like a light.
And now she was working for that damned woman.
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"Beauty and seduction, I believe, is nature's tool for survival, because we will protect what we fall in love with." – Louie Schwartzberg
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"Awe—a present for me? You shouldn't have."
"I am being serious, Ms. Quinn; it is important that you keep this on you at all times."
Giggle.
"Is the big boss lady afraid I'm gonna get into trouble?"
"No, I know you will get into trouble. That is why I cannot risk you being compromised—take this and use it if ever necessary."
"Will do—yes ma'am!"
Pause.
"Only use it in an emergency. You remember what the perimeters for those are, correct?"
"Let's see … if I'm captured alive, right?"
"Exactly. If you know you're going to die, don't even bother."
Laugh.
"Geese, lady, you're so thoughtful. It almost sounds like you care."
"Oh, I do care Ms. Quinn—but not about your life."
"You were always the smooth talker …"
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"Seduction is often difficult to distinguish from rape. In seduction, the rapist often bothers to buy a bottle of wine." – Andrea Dworkin
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Harley awoke with a start.
Her head collided with a hard object, and she immediately noticed that she couldn't see. Well, her eyes were open. She reached up to check—yep, open! But she was also still laying down, and she couldn't help but notice how much of an enclosed space she was in when she attempted to stretch her legs out and they hit something.
As soon as she heard the continuous dull noise of an engine, she remembered where she was; in the back of a very, very expensive car.
Damn it!
How the hell did she ever get mixed up with that stupid clown!?
You provoked him, remember? The logical voice in her head mentioned.
Oh yeah, that was pretty much her fault.
And her head was so … foggy.
You really f**ked up this time, you idiot. That was the one that could be a be a real bitch sometimes.
It was at that moment that she remembered one of her little "super-powers", that slight immunity to toxins. It seemed it was working—Harley had a feeling that whatever the clown doused her with, it was supposed to be a lot stronger. Even if it had worked its way out of her system slightly, she could still feel the effects. Her mind was still foggy with cobwebs. She just hoped that it wasn't going to make this more difficult for her.
She'd already been hit on the head one too many times that morning.
Reaching her hands out in front of her, Harley began to run them along the walls of the trunk she was currently occupying. There was always some kind of door release back here, usually. When she came up empty handed, she growled in frustration and then attempted to look around her.
Well, at least you have us to talk to, purred the coy one. Maybe we can talk about all that business back with Mistah Jay, hm? Wouldn't he be great to play with … ? Some naughty games too.
Harley growled and shook her head. Damned voices! That was definitely the last thing she wanted to talk about.
"Could you all just shut up for five minutes!?" she hissed under her breath, but gasped when she realized how loud that had been. Thankfully, the car did not stop. When she continued, she whispered this time. "I am trying to escape."
She returned to her search, pretty confident that they wouldn't be back for a little while. They quieted down when she acknowledged their existences out loud. Now, was there anything in the stupid trunk she could use?
Sadly, besides herself (and the others in her head), the trunk was empty.
Who needed to use trunk space when there were all those black vans, anyway? Then again, Harley personally always liked having weapons on hand—weapons!
She immediately began searching her form. If and when that trunk opened again, she needed to be ready. Sadly, there wasn't much room in the booty shorts and bra for many things. The flimsy material of a dress didn't have any pockets either. But wait!
Ah ha!
She remembered why she never left the house without a harness around her chest, and it wasn't just to make sure the girls stayed in place. The wide elastic straps that criss-crossed over her chest and back were very good at keeping things concealed in the hidden pockets.
They usually had all kinds of goodies; lipstick, knives (like her switch blade that she had lost at the bank), nail files, some candy and oh! A phone!
As soon as the little plastic device was in her fingers, she was so relieved to see that the battery wasn't dead—she'd have to give a raise to the person in charge of her clothes.
The little light was able to illuminate the tiny space just enough for her to see … there was no trunk release. The door was lined with, um, wire bars? Then she noticed something that she probably should have noticed earlier. The space was not lined with fabric like most trunks; instead it was lined with a plastic coating. There was also a small hole in the floor towards the door.
Oh shit.
This was probably where he carried all his "playmates" – before and after he was done with them.
And the drain? For blood of course.
Harley instantly continued checking all her pockets for anything else. Nope, just the phone. Who the hell could she call? All of her men were idiots! And the people that did work for her that could figure out how to rescue her were very, very difficult to replace.
Glancing over her numbers, she realized that the amount of her "friends" was very bleak. She really had to attend the next villains' poker night. The list of her contacts was simply sad. Hell, she'd host the event next time.
It was then that Harley's eyes fell on the mysterious number at the bottom of the list. There was no name, only a series of frowny faces and knife emojis.
Well, this person could help, but … did Harley really want it?
The car jerked as it slammed on the brakes and Harley heard the engine cut. She didn't have time to debate. Normally she would have just called, but Harley didn't think it was wise to start talking—it was better to play unconscious for as long as possible.
So she quickly typed in the text message, KIDNAPPED. NEED LOCATION.
She didn't bother with her typical emojis as she turned the phone onto silent and then returned it to the secret pocket. The tiny thing was hopefully small enough to go unnoticed. Then, putting on her best acting skills, she let her body go limp and closed her eyes.
It was relatively quiet outside, but Harley could hear movement and the echoing of voices that drew closer.
Someone was knocking on the door from the outside, but she didn't respond. After a pause, the door opened and she could feel fresh air on her skin.
Harley would have held her breath, but she needed to look unconscious. Thankfully, her drowsiness was helping create that effect.
What was happening, anyway?
After a moment, there was finally something, "So I take it Mr. Reed won't be joining us?"
That was not the Joker.
A harsh laugh radiated next to the first voice. It chilled her to the bone. "Reedy isn't nearly as nice to look at."
That was the Joker. Just the sound of his voice made her hair stand on end.
Who the hell was Reed?
Wait, did he just call you … pretty?
"She killed half our boys?" the other person asked, as monotonous and professionally as possible. From his tone, it was obvious that he was either not afraid of the clown or he was of such a high position that he could question him. "Alone?"
"All by her itty-bitty self," the crime boss breathed. She could hear the smile on his lips. "Snapped some of their necks with those … luscious thighs of hers."
It was the another complement, but Harley didn't like it. His words were always laced with something behind it, and she did not like his tone.
What if he wants your thighs around his neck?
Harley suppressed a tingle, the image of hot breath on her thighs reaching her brain. Suddenly, Harley noticed that a certain area of her anatomy—one that lay between her thighs—had suddenly started growing warm and … moist. It clenched with anticipation.
Uh-oh.
She did everything possible to prevent herself from reacting to the memories that rushed back to her. Had she been able to move, she would have squirmed some more to get rid of the irritation between her What had happened … what he did … where he touched her. It made her want to squirm even more.
Why hadn't she hated it?
And why couldn't she prevent that oh so wonderfully awful clenching in her gut?
Because it felt so … very nice, Harley dear. Such big strong shoulders … very skillful hands. He definitely knows how to play rough too. Maybe Mistah Jay will help you with some of all that pent up energy you got stored up?
Harley didn't have time to mentally chastise that one.
"Chimney or forge?" she heard the other man ask.
"Oh, neither Johnny," replied the king of crime. "This is a … very special guest. Just my usual toys sent upstairs, and—oh! Cancel my appointments for the next day or two." She heard him breathing heavier, his voice getting closer.
When she felt hands on her skin, she stupidly twitched slightly. Cold fingers touched her cheek, the back of an index caressing the contour of her jaw. After she reacted, his hand retracted slightly, but she felt it hovering nearby. Harley immediately groaned lazily, the rest of her body squirming before she stopped right after the finger left her skin. It was a reflexive movement; even an unconscious person responded to touch.
Hopefully, they would buy it.
"Seems like she doesn't respond to the Flower like others," Joker remarked with a small bit of interest.
What on earth was "the Flower"?
"Next time I'll just have to dose her harder."
Oh—whatever he had sprayed her with to knock her out. She made a mental note.
This time when the Joker touched her, he took a hold of her torso and gently pulled her out of the trunk, picking her up in his arms. Instead of throwing her over his shoulder like last time, she felt him grip her under her knees and hold her around the waist firmly, adjusting her head so that it rested on his shoulder.
With her ear next to his neck, Harley could hear the beating of his heart. It unnerved her for a moment; she never thought of such a man possessing one. Maybe she subconsciously thought he wasn't human. Instead, it was there for her to hear.
And it was was not steady, instead it was rapid and quick.
She wondered if he was worked up, or that was his resting heartbeat.
Oooh! Such broad shoulders …
The gang kingpin began walking, his movements steady, poised even. Harley heard other footsteps walking next to him. For the next few minutes, there was absolutely no speaking at all. The Joker just continued to walk, taking several turns and then accending a few steps before another few turns.
Harley attempted to remember their route, seeing as she'd need it for her escape later. She didn't know what Joker had planned, but "toys" did not sound good. Despite what the voices in her head were telling her, she doubted his plans were so … recreational. Her own toys were deadly, so his were probably a lot less … cute.
Hers were always adorable, after all.
She heard the click of a door, and the lighting around her changed, growing darker. When Harley was finally put down, she noticed that whatever he had laid her on was incredibly soft and fluffy. Her head rolled to the side.
Were those pillows under her head?
"How soon do you want this footage looked at?" asked the other voice, "Johnny" or so he was called. Wherever they were, the henchman had followed.
"Analyze it," Joker said, his voice hovering near her. She felt him sit down next to her, his finger reaching for her chin this time. He tilted her head from side to side, almost as if looking her over properly. "This little minx refused to tell me her name. Do you recognize her at all?"
There was a pause. Harley heard the sound of recorded gunfire and screams. Deja vu hit her, then she realized that she had made those screams. Whatever footage they were looking at, it was probably from earlier at the bank.
"Never seen her before," Johnny replied. "There aren't too many that can do all those flips. Do you think she works for someone we know?"
"No … this one is all on her lonesome." He finally released her and stood. There was some movement, and she realized he had taken a few steps away. "She was able weasel her tight little ass into the vault without sounding any alarms … she's no amateur."
From his tone, Harley could have sworn that he was thoroughly impressed by this information.
Aw … see, he likes you …
"You want me to ask around?"
"Find out who she is," Joker instructed. "Everything that's out there—I need a name."
"Her men didn't talk?"
The clown chuckled at this. "I don't know what she has those idiots on, but the second we asked anything, they instantly keeled over," he responded.
"Dead?"
"Nope, just … braindead. We woke them, and they didn't remember a thing."
Harley smirked internally. That little failsafe in all her men had been placed in if anyone captured them and asked about her personally. Her supposedly useless—according to a few narrow-minded individuals who were currently resting in pieces—hypnotism classes had finally started to pay off.
"Did you need anything else before I left?"
"Hm …" She could hear him closer again. "She look like a Champagne or Cognac kind of gal?"
What?
Did he actually think that she would willingly drink anything he gave her?
"Rum," Johnny countered.
Oh yay! We love rum!
"Oh yes, of course—send some of that up too. And a few dozen roses—but make sure half of them are blue."
There was no response, but she heard footsteps. Then the slam of the door.
Red and blue roses … those sound pretty.
After a few seconds, Harley began to wonder if she was alone. But Harley's suspicions were denied when could still hear the faint panting of the clown of crime, even if it was a little far off. But then, after a few seconds, there was more movement. Another opening and closing of a door, followed by silence.
Harley contoured as if to look like she was stretching, then she brought her hand up to cover her face, trying to hide the fact that she was trying to open her eyes. If there was someone still there, she still wanted to look like she was asleep.
When she finally cracked her eye open, she saw a lot of things. People were not among them.
First of all, she saw herself.
Hanging above her only by a few feet was a mirror large enough to reflect her entire body and plenty of the space around her. And when she saw what was around her, she was completely confused.
Sitting up straight, Harley looked around her with wonder.
What the hell?
She was sitting in the middle of a very large, very ornate bed. The mattress was larger than king-sized, and it was accented in its size by the four posts that held translucent curtains around its perimeter. Dressed with purple silk and satin, it had more than enough pillows for several people.
Outside of the bed, the large room was modernly decorated. There were straight, clean lines and few variations. The room itself was not lavishly decorated; a pair of side tables, a couch, a dresser that didn't look like it could hold a lot, and a few chairs.
It was nicely done, but it was sterile. There was no art, no accent pieces. The only thing that made it stand out from the ordinary was the color; the deep purple that matched the bed covers and curtains. The rest of the furniture was black with gold accents. The room was big, with a tall ceiling, but the color made it seem tiny. There were absolutely no windows, asside from the ceiling. The entire ceiling itself was a giant window, the vaulted thing taking the shape of a dome. However, there was no light coming in from above.
Wasn't it still day time?
The room itself wasn't exactly a square. The space that held the bed was almost a small, round shaped "nook" that was annexed from the rest of the space, probably for privacy.
This was … a bedroom.
A bedroom? Really? Wait a minute, why would he take her up to his own bedroom to kill her?
Because he doesn't want to kill you, stupid—at least not yet anyway. Remember? He said he wanted to play?
Realization dawned on Harley.
Shit.
You know, that took a little bit too long for you to figure out, sweetie. He ordered Champagne and roses you dunce!
Shit … shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-Shit! SHIT! SHIT!
There was absolutely no room, in any of her plans, that involved that kind of play with the clown!
As soon as she figured out, panic set in, and Harley pushed asside all the cobwebs in her head, ignoring her own weariness as she attempted to scramble up off the bed.
However, her efforts were immediately ceased by something pulling on her arm.
She followed the clanking metal sound; her hand had been handcuffed to the metal bed frame.
That clown thought of everything—everything damn it!
When the hell did that happen? And why wasn't one of those stupid voices paying attention?
Sorry, I thought he was just being kinky …
A brief image flashed across her mind. It was of herself strapped to the bed in chains, wearing absolutely nothing as the clown slowly closed in on her.
I wonder what he'll think of as soon as he gets back …
No, No, NO!
Harley deeply considered bashing her head against the wall right there, even if it would only silence the voices in her head for a few minutes. However, she settle for shaking her head furiously before she began to inspect the cuff around her hand.
Maybe she could pick it.
Sadly, all her hair pins had fallen out earlier. She squirmed over to the side table, using her free hand to root through the drawer. Sadly, there were only bullets inside. Completely useless! Where was a loaded gun when it was needed? And where the hell were all the knives?
Shimmying over to the other table, the only other thing within reach, she found nothing but a tablet inside.
She didn't know what she attempted to do with it, but she pulled it out and attempted to use it. However, all she found was a screen displayed a picture of a dead body; probably Mistah Jay's own handiwork. But it was password protected, so no luck there.
She put it back and turned back to the cuff itself, flexing her hand around. She had always been flexible, maybe she could squeeze out of it.
It only took a few tugs and turns, and eventually she was free.
Finally!
Scrambling to her feet, she immediately went to the first door she found.
But as she touched the handle, she paused when she heard a noise. It was faint and constant, the streaming of water raining down. She placed her ear to the door, hearing it more intensely. A shower was running.
And … she could only guess one person who could be in it.
This was obviously the bathroom. Harley couldn't think of anything else that would be attached to a bedroom—that had running water at least.
Without any other options, Harley tried to think of what she should do next. She needed to get out, she needed to get away. There was no way she could stay, not with him. She was afraid of what she would do with him, of what he would make her do.
She … might even like it.
What are you saying, you'll love it! Harley and Mistah Jay sittin' in a tree …
Snapping herself, out of it, she went on to the next option. This one was a long narrow hallway, just as tall and windowless as where she'd just been before.
Scampering down the plush carpeting, she found an open space that was laid out in several layers, almost like there were a few large steps leading up to where she stood. There was a clear path down the center of all the pieces of furniture enough for several dozen people to lounge. This space was lit, with light was streaming in through the glass ceiling. It appeared even brighter even if everything was colored to match the previous space.
Where the hell was she?
Wait, was this whole thing the bedroom?
Wow, he is loaded!
At the very bottom of the stairs, she saw a pair of large doors.
That was the exit!
Harley scurried to the door, and was ecstatic when she realized it opened.
However, that ecstacy was cut severly short when she saw what was on the other side of the door.
A total of about maybe … two dozen goons standing in the hallway.
All of these goons were nicely dressed and maskless, almost resembling very scarred and hideous secret service members. As soon as she entered the room, they all trained their guns onto her.
Wow, you ain't dodging those, honey.
Harley cracked a nervous smile.
"You all wouldn't shoot little ol' helpless me, would ya?" she asked in the most innocent voice she could muster.
Harley shrieked as she slipped back through the doors the second she started hearing gunfire, closing and locking them behind her. Unfortunately, they kept shooting at her through the thick wood. It would hold, but not that much.
Apparently they didn't really care they were distroying their boss's door.
As Harley ran away from it back up the steps, intentionally keeping head down. When the door came crashing open anyway—one of the bigger ones assisted with that—Harley yelped and ran back down the narrow hallway again, seeing as there was really nowhere else to go.
What the hell did Mistah Jay tell them?
It only occurred to her that this probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. All she had now was the bed and a few bullets.
With really not much other options, Harley did the only thing she could think of—she jumped up on top of the canopy over the bed, which was surprisingly sturdy (it was holding up a mirror, though), and then onto the large ceiling fixture above it.
Well, they couldn't shoot her if they couldn't find her.
Thankfully, she only had enough time to lay down against the fixture to hide her shape before they came in.
There was murmuring, but no gunshots.
"What the hell are all of you doing?" came a familiar voice. Wasn't that "Johnny" or something?
"The broad tried escaping," was a grunt of a reply. "Orders were to kill if she tried."
Oh, that explained a lot.
So possessive …
There was a pause. "Where is she?"
"She ran back in here and disappeared."
Harley held her breath. Maybe they would just go away if she stayed quiet.
"All of you but you two leave," Johnny commanded. There was shuffling of feet. "And you two, explain exactly what happened."
"She came out the door, so we started shooting. She ran back this way, and when we came in this is how we found it. We were following orders."
"And you're sure she came in here?"
"Where else would she go?"
"You know …" draweled the return of an all too familiar purr. "You guys need to be a little more open minded."
Oh crap.
He was back.
Although the Joker taunted them, he then changed the subject, "What did you find so quick?"
She heard movement. "This was the only thing we could find on her," Johnny responded. "It's real short, but it's definitely her."
After a few seconds, Harley heard recorded gunshots again. They were different from the earlier recording. They were laced with a lot more screams and thumps.
Wait a minute … where had she heard that before.
That was when she heard the voice.
"Attention Arkham Patients," she heard her own voice echoing, followed by the hollowness of her own laughter. "Harley Quinn here."
Oh no.
Not good.
WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GET THAT?!
" … know that you will be exterminated on the spot. Thank you for your cooperation."
There was an eerie pause, and she heard pacing.
Low guttural breathing began to fill the space again. From the tone, Harley didn't have to guess who that was.
"Harley Quinn, Harley Quinn, Harley … Quinn," whispered the clown. He could barely contain his laughter. "Oh, little Harlequin, that's almost too perfect."
"Harlequin? You mean like that Harlequinade place?" muttered one of the goons.
There was a pause amongst the group below, but not for Harley.
Oh crap! Her club!
One of them had heard of it?!
Who invited a rival goon? We really have to screen all those invites!
The distinct pause intensified for a few seconds, and she realized the other three were probably staring at him in confusion. "You never heard of that new club over in the high rent district?" the goon continued, sounding embarrassed.
"Why don't you enlighten us, Tommy?" the Joker prompted, sounding a little annoyed but intrigued.
"It's one of those really fancy invite only places … um, you know Burley-something."
"Burlesque?" asked the other goon.
"Yeah, that's the one. All dance, no real tits. Everyone there is dressed up like the circus there. You gotta wear a mask to go inside, and it's real popular with all the rich folks. Some of the dancers at our place were talking about it."
That was right, Joker did have several strip joints. Harley only had the one place so far, and she had done a pretty good job of keeping it under wraps from a majority of the population.
Maybe … she should have been a little nicer to the dancers she didn't hire.
"Fascinating," the Joker drawled. There was a pause, before some more movement. "You know Harley dearest, won't you come down from that light and join the conversation?"
Harley flinched. Damn, he saw her.
Well, cat's out of the bag.
Placing on the sweetest smile she could muster, Harley teasingly sat up and turned to he small group of men standing beneath her.
"But Puddin'," she protested, making sure to extend her head out further. "And ruin all your fun?"
The green-haired clown was the only one not surprised to see her in her hiding place. The two goons jumped when she moved, and Johnny looked as shocked as he could—an eyebrow twitched upward. She observed that had been the first time she'd seen the head henchman. Hm, the beard suited him.
The Joker stood with his arms crossed, smiling at her maniacally. "But the conversation is about you, sweetheart," he mocked.
The man beneath her was freshly showered and changed. There was still a dampness to his skin, and there were spots on his red silk shirt that clung to his frame from the moisture. The thing was opened almost all the way down the front, black slacks the only other thing on his form. Oddly enough he was barefoot, but for some strange reason this wasn't too weird for him.
She couldn't help but notice how much the contours of his body were highlighted by how the fabric clung to his skin.
Mm-mm, wouldn't those ripped muscles be so nice …
Kicking her feet up behind her, Harley looked off to the side, appearing like she was distracted by her own nails. "I don't wanna," she whined with a pout. "Your friends weren't very nice to me …"
"If you don't come down, I'm going to have to make you come down," he threatened in almost a song.
She frowned and turned to him, staying in character. "Oh yeah, how?"
The Joker only smiled. Extending his hand to one of the goons, they swiftly handed him a gun. When he pointed it towards her, Harley ducked back behind the light with a yelp. Thankfully, when the gun went off it completely missed her.
Unfortunately, it made its original target; the one chain that had been holding the light up.
With a lurch, Harley felt the one side fall down, and she immediately clung to the other. She glared down at him, snapping out of the cute. "What the hell?!"
"There's the real Harley! You only got one more chance before it comes down completely, darling."
She growled, face wrinkling at him. No more cutesy.
Swallowing her pride, she jumped back over to the canopy, before she slowly flipped down onto the floor.
He was waiting for her, unarmed, and he took no pause as he came up right in front of her to wrap his hands around her waist. Hoisting her up against him, she realized how tightly she was pressed up against him. At first she tried squirming, but then he whispered something in her ear.
"Be nice, doctor," he said softly enough so only she could hear him.
She felt her eyes widening, and her entire body stiffened.
Wait a minute, how did he … ?
"That footage you heard us watching was impressive—I'd know Arkham anywhere."
If Harley thought she was in trouble before, she was in serious trouble now. How the hell did he know she was a doctor at Arkham? All of her records at that place had been completely erased.
But now he was … blackmailing her.
Into playing nice? … was that it?
A mischievous smile crept up on her face. There was a reason he hadn't sent the henchmen away yet; he needed an audience.
This was something she was good at.
With a coo and a giggle, Harley launched her arms around his shoulders and kissed him boldly. He didn't even pause with a response. It was deep and heated, much softer than the last one in the bank. Harley was tempted to suppress the shiver that overcame her, but she used the movement to her advantage as she pulled away.
So nice …
"Hello there," she giggled, flicking a finger over his nose.
The Joker looked over to the henchmen. "Making friends out of rivals is so much fun," he commented. Only Johnny remained unfazed. "Isn't that so, Harley?"
She didn't respond, only stared humming to herself as she began tracing the word "damaged" that was tattooed across his forehead, seemingly completely unaware of anyone or anything else. She vaguely wondered if it was annoying him; she was trying to annoy him. She was also trying to avoid looking him in the eye, since that was dangerous territory.
"Frosty," the clown addressed Johnny. Harley vaguely wondered if that was his surname, or if at least "Frost" was. She thought as much, it was a name that suited him. "If you and the boys could excuse us, we have some negotiations to talk over …"
Frost nodded curtly and quickly excusing himself, the other two shuffling out of the room after him—looking relieved that they got away with their lives. As soon as Harley could hear that they were a good distance away, she finally turned to look at him in the eye.
He had very distinct eyes.
She'd hated kissing him in front of his men. The only reason he had brought her to his room was for one soul reason; gender. Men were on his own level, he could show to his men what would happen to them if they crossed him. Pain and torture, plain and simple.
But since Harley was a she … that was an entirely different animal.
The Joker was trying to show his dominance over her; he couldn't keep good control of his men if he couldn't handle a single woman.
Typical alpha male move; show he could make any woman succumb to him.
"How do you know I was a doctor, clown?" she demanded, anger overcoming her fear of him.
He simply chuckled as he ducked his mouth into her neck. "I didn't," he hissed into her ear, gently nibbling her skin. "You just told me."
She felt her teeth clenching. Damn him.
Okay, she walked into that one.
Like a brick wall!
Harley moved on. "You gonna let go of me now?"
"Hm …" His hands trailed around her waist, and he refused to move his mouth from her neck. "I think not."
"What? Why the hell not?" she asked as she began to squirm again.
His goons were gone, weren't they?
"You know, all that movement is just exciting me more, sweet cheeks," he mumbled, and she felt his hands trail down to cup her rear-end in his hands.
The grip was painfully sweet, and Harley froze as she held back a moan. Her insides clenched.
Oh no …
Oh yes …
"Stopping so soon?" he teased.
She was fuming, and not in the good way. "I am not your toy!" she exclaimed, smacking his shoulders, the only thing she could reach. "If you're gonna kill me, kill me."
The clown stopped moving. And then, a low deep laugh she'd never heard before sent electricity throughout her limbs. He brought a hand up to jerk her head towards his, to look her in the eye.
The look on his face made her stomach turn. "Who said anything about killing you?"
Well, there went that theory.
Told you!
Harley suppressed the urge to cringe. Up until that point, she was still clinging to the hope that he still just wanted her dead, seeing as there were only two reasons he'd bring her there.
He either wanted to kill her or …
She felt her gut spasm.
He wants to f**k your brains out, you idiot!
… oh yeah, that other thing.
Harley couldn't hide the shock in her eyes.
She was afraid; she knew what he had planned. It wasn't that she was afraid that she would hate it, she was afraid that she would like it—a lot. And that notion was scarier than the clown king himself.
It was then she realized how close her hips were to his, and she absently felt a warm hardness pressing up against her.
He was … serious. He was f**king serious!
It wasn't a question.
Harley didn't exactly know how she achieved it, but as soon as she tasted blood she managed to break free of his grip momentarily and scurry away from him. She kept him in sight the whole time, and by the time she was conscious of her movements again, she found herself crouched on top of the bed.
The man in front of her only had gleaming eyes as he wiped the blood away from his collar. "Oh Harley dear, you know just the way I like it …"
As soon as he launched for her, Harley backed up again, somersaulting backwards onto the floor and to her feet. She bolted up around the bed, but he was quicker—he immediately blocked her. Harley jolted back to the bed to run across it, but he blocked her there. The more she darted back and forth away from his grip, she could ear his laughter echoing in her head.
The entire time, she kept her eyes locked with his own, never daring to look away. Looking away meant certain defeat.
He met her gaze head on, and Harley could see the determination in his eyes.
She was not leaving that room unscathed.
The voices in her head chorused this time, This is going to be so much fun!
Damn them. What did they know anyway?
Their little game of tag was short-lived, as two more times of running around the bed, and Harley ran up and stood on the bed, holding up her hand.
"Now you stay right there, Mistah Jay!" she warned, feeling her accent cracking horribly. "I am not that kind of girl!"
He hadn't stopped when she did, in fact he jumped up onto the bed after her, only he was crouched playfully. "Oh, Harley Quinn … I know exactly what kind of girl you are …"
Harley let out a yelp; a tug of her ankle and was completely swept off her feet, literally. He was pulling her closer to him before she reacted out of instinct. The kick didn't even faze him, nor did it wipe that irritating smile from his face. Despite her thrashing, he somehow managed to pin her beneath him again.
She froze when she realized where she was.
The clown had pinned both of her hands above her head, his own pressing down on her relentlessly. Her legs had somehow been pushed back until she saw how her own knees were pinned to her shoulders.
Oh no.
She was completely exposed!
His own figure was firmly pressed against hers. Hips against hips, chest against chest, and mouth hovering only a breath's width away. Every synapse in her brain was uncontrollably wracked with pleasure. The sheer amount of heat pressed up against her was so hard and …
Stop it!
She had to refrain from instinctively grinding her hips into that heat.
Sadly, he only did it for her.
Harley couldn't stop the moan from escaping her mouth.
"No more foreplay," he muttered into her mouth.
Why are you still resisting, you stupid little idiot?!
That was it.
She was done.
She could no longer resist.
Fighting was literally killing her.
There was no way she could fight anymore.
When he kissed her this time, she couldn't help herself; she met him head-on. As his lips crashed into her own, she didn't hold back the way her body trembled or the groans that escaped her mouth. She clung to his form, wrapping her arms around his neck greedily and burying her hands in his still-damp hair.
It felt so good. It felt so good …
He was merciless, ripping into her mouth as she felt his fingers run up and down her body. He never pulled away once as she felt his hands ascend up her dress, caressing the skin around her stomach and hips. Her body convulsed like she'd been electrocuted by his fingertips, a moan coming out with every stroke.
He broke away only once, fingers nimbly unclasping the ring between her breasts that held her harness in place. Once it fell free, he didn't hesitate to completely shred her dress as he ripped it off her form. Instead of being horrified, Harley found herself gasping in anticipation.
Yes, yes, yes …
Her own hands were not idle, as her nails slipping under his shirt to dig into the hard flesh of his back. She heard him growl into her neck as he took a swift bite out of her neck. There was blood, but she shook as the pain overcame her.
How did he know?
How did he know she would like that?
He pulled away to rip the shirt from his own body before launching himself on her lips again, purring into her mouth. His tongue caressed her own, and all Harley could think of was how she could get more of it.
She bit down, hard.
He pulled back, and for a second she saw anger flash across his eyes. It was only her fits of laughter and licking of her own lips that turned it around completely. "You taste good," she whispered.
With another jerk, a snap completely broke her breasts free from their restraints. Before they were completely free, she could feel how hard her nipples had become just from being exposed. As soon as his mouth completely covered the one, she bucked her hips forward and cried out without abandon. The other one was not left unattended, as while he bit down hard into the hard nub he mercilessly twisted the other with his fingers.
The heat inside her started to hurt, pooling in her core. Her muscles clenched and flexed, chasing that wonderful heat that only a few layers of cloth was separating from her goal.
Harley wanted this, she needed this. There was no denying it anymore.
All the voices in her head were deadly silent.
They had absolutely nothing to say …
Her hands clawed at the clasp at his pants, and she didn't even try not to rip them. As she heard the tearing of fabric, she felt the teeth on her skin break the flesh.
All she did was moan in ecstasy.
He pulled his lips away from her nipple and turned to her neck again. He whispered for her to be patient, although it was little more than a tease. Her legs came up to wrap around his waist possessively, grinding her hips into his.
She did not want to be patient.
Harley was missing his warmth when he pulled away from her again, but it was only as he broke the clasp of her shorts, pulling them off with one swift movement. The fishnet barrier was shredded to allow access to the couple of strings that she wore for panties. They were almost instantly snapped off, and with her flesh free she realized how excited she really was.
The evidence of her desire was flowing all over the inside of her legs and the bed. The wet stickiness made her giddy, and the agitated nub between her legs only perked up the second it came in contact with air.
Which it did when in the next movement, her legs were pulled widely apart as lips descended upon … lips.
Her cries were even louder and intense as she bucked her hips upwards. That hot moist tongue lathered up the folds of her nether region, darting around as wildly as the man himself. He sucked harshly on the tiny cluster of nerves in just the right places, teeth biting down as his tongue slipped itself inside her tight core.
The explosion came in a matter of seconds. Harley felt her eyes go back in her head, her toes curling into the fabric beneath her as she rode out the waves of pleasure and pain that wracked her body. Her back arched into the air, all the muscles inside her body wracked with spasms in the best pain she could experience.
The high she achieved must have lasted hours, because as soon as she felt her body collapse, she felt an exhausting weight over all of her limbs. She couldn't move even if she wanted. She knew her mouth was hanging open dementedly, her tongue lolling from her lips. But oddly enough, she could care less.
"Harley, Harley, Harley," she heard growling into her ear. She could barely move, and could only respond as he moved her body for him. The Joker brought himself up to kiss her again. She tasted herself on his lips. "You taste good too…"
Indeed she did.
That was when she felt it, the fire hot heat that she had been longing for.
He had brought himself up to press his bare chest against her own, the contours of his body melding against her own. The tip of that heat lingered around her entrance, poking and prodding. The pressure of him against her only heightened Harley's anticipation, her body responding on its own to his attentions. Her hips bucked again.
But he was control of the situation.
He let her know that by pulled her face to his to stare her in the eye. "Tell me what you want, baby …" he pushed.
She only groaned. "… you," she muttered.
"Yes, yes, yes … but you need to say it …" He used his thumb to trace her parched lips. She sucked at it like a teat of water. "Tell me who you want …"
His eyes captured hers, and she felt the words leave her before she could stop them. "Mistah … Jay," she breathed.
She felt his smile against her lips.
With one swift jerk, she felt that rock hard heat penetrate her completely. With a scream of pleasure mixed with pain, she bit back the moisture that fell from her eyes as she ripped into his back, knowing full well she was drawing blood.
That piece of her anatomy that proved her innocence was completely destroyed, but she couldn't contain how good the pain felt.
He did not pause after he pushed inside, taking no time to begin his assault. The red-hot poker that barraged her insides cruelly and unyielding. The muscles inside her expanded and contracted on their own, meeting each of his quick thrusts with another one of her own. Opening her legs to him more, she wanted to make sure that he could reach her deepest depth.
With each push, she felt herself being pushed down further into the mattress beneath her. It felt like if she was pushed any harder, she would be swallowed up by the fabric … and him. It was like falling deeper into water.
She was drowning … drowning in him.
Without even telling her body to do it, Harley suddenly pushed herself up and sat up straight, never breaking contact with him as she pushed him onto his back. She needed more, she needed it now. With her legs on either side of him, she kept eye contact as she began to bounce up and down on her own.
She couldn't see his face, as she was too focused on his eyes, but she knew he was smiling just as wildly as she was.
Because he met each one of her strikes with one of equal strength.
Her hips bucked even faster as she closed in on her edge, and she felt her eyes rolling to the back of her head even harsher than before as her neck rolled back with it. This time her entire body twitched and convulsed with so much energy that it caused her very body to fall over all on its own.
She fell forward onto his sweaty bare chest with a meager sigh that was more like a whimper, licking the sweat from his chest.
That was when she realized something she couldn't have forgotten.
He was still as hard as a rock inside her.
She couldn't even work up the energy to yelp as she felt him take control again, flipping her around onto her stomach. He parted for her only a fraction of a second as he pulled her hips up from the mattress to position himself behind her.
Her voice became harsh as she called out this time, pushing into her from behind like the wild animal that was contained inside of him. This position was even more unforgiving to her already pleasure-wracked body. There was nothing she could or wanted to do to stop him. All she could do was cling her hands around the metal of the headboard as she attempted to prevent herself from falling over completely.
His body bent over hers, wrapping around her center as he pulled tightly to his chest. She felt his hot breath on her neck and shoulders as he bit and sucked at her hairline. While his one hand tore at her breast, the other snaked its way down to her core … where it pinched and twisted.
Harley felt the walls around him begin to tighten up again. This one was different; this one was even more intense. She braced herself once more for the onslaught on her body, this one taking its time to build up in her body.
Teeth bit down hard into her shoulder as she felt him release inside of her.
She hardly noticed the breaking of skin as the molten lava shot straight into her core, his seed the living embodiment of the acid that had transformed his skin. As soon as that hot liquid penetrated the depths of her womb, Harley let out one final earth-shattering cry as she let the pleasure consume her.
The number of colors that overcame her vision were phenomenal. She didn't know her eyes could even pick up tones that were that bright or bold. As she felt every one of her limbs go completely numb, she didn't even try to fight whatever happened next.
Harley wasn't exactly sure what was going on, either. Her mind was still so foggy from the drugs and all the pleasure that had been thrown on her.
All she knew was that she felt like she was floating as she looked up at the form above her. Her vision was so blurry, that only the streak of green told her who it was. She could barely respond to his kiss as his tongue lingered with hers.
There was only one thing she could hear as unconsciousness took her again, "You know, my little Harlequin, I think I'm going to have to keep you …"
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Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Your reviews have been most kind. I would ask that with your next ones, please include the details of what you liked about this chapter. Thank you.
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