I do not own any of the DC comic characters. They belong to the Chris Nolan crew and the DC comic peoples. I'm just the writer.
He had been…intriguing. She took off her light sweater and rested it against the sofa. She simply didn't feel much like being organized today which she knew was unusual. After her meeting with the Joker she had simply felt alive which is something that a young psychologist usually doesn't feel, or an older one for that matter. Before she was assigned to Joker's peculiar case she had been working with other criminally insane patients at Arkham. All of them were boring to her, classic text book cases that were easily solved. When she had been presented Joker's case file she had immediately become infatuated.
Not infatuated, as in love, but in the sense that she had something that intrigued her, really piqued her interest. As far as the paperwork had went there was no record of him anywhere. He was a phantom that had immediately set to destroying Gotham, there was nothing before the destruction, nothing before chaos. As to the way he orchestrated his attacks, it was genius. Though he claimed to love chaos, though he claimed no organization save for the very next step there had to be some planning involved.
Harleen took off her white tennis shoes and laid them in her closet. The commute to Arkham always left her feeling a little drained and so she decided bath and bed, nothing in between. She stripped as she went along all the time thinking of the strange man she had met today. He lived purely on instinct and only in the moment, so unlike her. She had studied her ass off to be where she was, to live as well as she did.
She shivered, remembering those eyes. They had practically ate her alive, and the way he spoke. His pitch changed so often, sometimes high and almost nervous. Other times, he presented a more guttural tone, a tone of voice that could either tease someone into bed or make them cry in fear. She found that she liked the way he spoke. She thought of the way he looked in general. The doctors of course did not allow for his infamous face make up to remain and so she had gotten to see the man not the clown.
He had been beautiful.
Even with the scars that skimmed upwards from his lips he still possessed a face that most would consider angelic, which was ironic considering what he was being locked away for. He had somewhat thin brushstrokes for eyebrows, a very straight but somewhat cute nose. His lips, however, defined him. They were extremely kissable lips she decided upon further thinking. They were wide but plump and though both ends of his mouth were scarred, without the clown makeup one usually it took nothing away from the attractive smile that sometimes presented itself. The scars in question she noticed were high and ended just below his altogether perfect cheekbones. They were jagged, crooked and appeared to have been stitched up by a shaky hand. He had probably done them himself, and she wondered how strong a man must be to sew his own face.
She remembered in the file that he always had a different story for his scars. When he had been first brought to Arkham he told one of the attendants that he had done the cutting himself. The attendant reported that the Joker had done it because he had wanted "to smile more". She shook away the thoughts of the Joker and continued her disrobing in the bathroom. Finally she was down to only skin alone and completely disarmed. This was the only time of her day when she could be herself. During the day she was a cold psychiatrist that mentally dissected her patients. She tried to cure them, but many that had checked into Arkham did not reemerge in society. If she wasn't at work she was in Gotham City Library looking up ways to possibly eradicate insanity. She had always been drawn to the insane. The way they found release, freedom from all human attachments, it fascinated her. She wanted to know what broke a human being, what pushed them over the edge, what was it like to let go? In the Joker she saw the perfect kind of insanity. He still had a grasp on all motor functions, all the higher intelligence a human being held, but at the same time he lived off pure instinct, swinging from emotion to emotion like a rhythmless pendulum. He lived as an animal but walked as a man.
She turned on the shower and kept her hands under the water until she found it had reached her desired temperature. Stepping inside she felt that first shiver, the little shiver as your body registers a hotter temperature. It felt almost like the shiver she had felt when Joker had whispered in her ear.
'beee animals'
She shivered again, but this time it was from something else entirely. She knew that what she was feeling right now was distasteful, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to know what it would like to be possessed by the Joker. A mind such as his broken, shattered, and remolded, must be fascinating thing to be near. His skin she had remembered had been tan, his body, even in the straight jacket, showed off taut muscle. He was lithe and tall, and reminded her of a lazy jungle cat. Sly and slow, but able to strike quickly and with a deadly accuracy.
Water rippled and pooled down her collarbone between and over her breasts down her back, between her legs, and she knew she wanted more. She touched herself tentatively. A shock of pleasure and a sure sense of wrongness rippled through her. Still, she wanted this. She used one arm and braced herself against the tiles as she inserted a finger into herself. She sighed deeply thinking of a deep guttural voice. She imagined the owner of the voice trailing a rough pink tongue against her neck as he plunged two more fingers into her. She moaned loudly pressing her hand even more tightly against the tile. His fingers would be long, long enough to touch her…oh! She cried out loudly struggling not to fall. She let him struggle to fit in a fourth finger, she knew that he wanted to hurt her, make her scream. A fourth finger jammed into her tightly and tears coursed down her face. It felt good but at the same time it stung sharply, she had never tried this. She rocked into his hand harder letting him pump her quickly to her finish. He cackled maniacally as she mewled, growled, and cried. He chuckled in his 'fuck you' guttural voice, and finally the whole fist was in her. Unable to take so much she came into his hand shouting his name finally letting herself sink into the bathtub. She pulled her fingers out and ran them under the shower. Something was happening to her.
Something was coming loose.
She frowned softly and tilted her head. Perhaps, she would understand what was going on tomorrow.