You push it hard, I pull away,
I'm feeling hotter than fire
I guess that no one ever really
made me feel that much higher
West Coast / Lana Del Rey
"I'm hungry."
My eyes snapped open, to see a dark-haired man with wide eyes leaning too close to me. With a shrill shriek, I scrambled back, waking J in the process. His eyes shot wide, blinking repeatedly as he assessed the situation. I was pressed against him, a blanket wrapped around his t-shirt, which I had used as makeshift pajamas, staring back at the odd-looking man with a terrified expression.
"Wha- Schiff! Get the fuck out! What have we said about boundaries?"
"That if I don't knock you'll k-kn-knock my l-lights out."
"Correct."
"But I'm hungry."
"Go tell Johnny."
"Johnny isn't here."
"Then go get something. I don't care, but get out of here."
The man hesitantly turned, wandering out of the room with a confused and mildly dejected expression.
"What the fuck?" I looked up at J, and he shrugged.
"Thomas Schiff. Funny. Cheap meat."
"Yeah, 'cause he's half spoiled if you know what I mean," I gave him a look.
"Yeah, but…" He shrugged. "He's funny."
We had been back at the offices for a few days now, and I was beginning to find my rhythm here, next to J. He had been busy getting ready for his plans at the Paradise Meadows Facility but had kept those plans mostly hush-hush.
"True." He shrugged, pulling me back down.
"No way am I gonna be able to sleep right now, J."
"Would you like me to help?" He smirked, and I considered.
"Be still."
He cocked an eyebrow but didn't move, watching me with cautious eyes as I repositioned myself in between his legs. Reaching up, I placed a hand on his chest, obstructed only by his undershirt, as I watched his face. He relaxed, closing his eyes. Tracing my way down his body, before I reached his boxers, tugging them off. I glanced up at him, to see that his eyes were open again, staring down at me with a hungry expression. I watched him twitch, biting my lip with a smile.
"Don't tease." He growled.
"I thought you liked teasing?"
"Harley-"
"Calm down, you big baby," I giggled, taking him into my hand, making him lick his lips. I wrapped my lips around the tip, his hand immediately finding the back of my head. He groaned low in his throat, and I took that as encouragement, using my tongue to spread spit over the shaft, knowing him well enough to know that any control I had over the situation was short-lived.
"Fuck, Harls," His voice was a sigh, muscles in his thighs tensing and relaxing as I worked over him. All too soon I was proven correct when the hand on my head began guiding me, in a slow tempo, giving me plenty of time to breathe- for now.
"Fuck," He groaned, lifting his head to look at me with heavy lids, "God you look so fucking good," His guiding hand grew more insistent, pushing me down further until a small gag escaped. He immediately lifted me, letting me breathe, letting me adjust, before pushing me back down again, this time holding me there for a moment after the gag. Up- and then back down. His hips thrust at my face only slightly, as I hollowed my cheeks.
"Jesus," He grunted, his hand increasing its speed as he bobbed my head up and down. "God, get up." He pried me off of his cock, hand still gripping my hair.
He pulled me up roughly, one hand on my hair, the other reaching for my hip, as he lined himself up with me, grunting as he set a punishing speedy rhythm, that made me cry out. J sat up in an instant, teeth on my neck, biting his way down. I groaned, hands tangling in his hair.
"J come on, this morning was supposed to be about you." I moaned rolling my hips against him.
"Yeah, yeah, shut up." He sighed, leaving more hickeys and bites across my neck. "I want you this way now."
"Your wish…" I started but gasped as he picked up the pace, giggling at my reaction. "Such a dick,"
"Yeah, I know. Pretty great, huh?" He bragged, making me laugh.
"Do you take anything seriously?"
"Not if I can help it. Don't pretend it isn't your favorite thing about me," He grinned. "Other than this. What was it you said? Best you ever had? Mind melting experience?"
I blushed at the reminder that drunk-me had been getting bolder with him, and more comfortable, and it was hugely embarrassing the moment I was sober. "Fuck you,"
"Harley, I think you're confused?" Joker laughed, rolling us over so that he was leaning over me, hand on my face, keeping my eyes on him. "You already are."
"J," I mewled up at him, making him grunt, hand snaking between us to rub my clit with a hand that was quickly learning exactly how to make my legs shake. "I'm gonna-"
"I know- I feel it." He moaned, as his lips curled, close himself.
"God- you're so- fuck" I gasped, staring up at J, mouth agape. "God- you're perfect J- fuck, so hot- So good."
The praise clawed a strangled cry from his throat, nails biting into my hips as he came, sending me spiraling off the edge as well.
It was a few minutes of relative silence, full of only heavy breathing and soft kisses on his jawline.
"Mm, so lovey-dovey."
"Shut up," I laughed, planting more down his neck.
"What? Are you still in denial, Harls?"
"I said shut up," I bit down, not hard, only nipping at him, though I took the opportunity to suck a mark onto him as well. If I'm getting covered in hickeys, he can have one.
"You're perfect J, you're so sexy J, You're a god in the sack J- What do you mean I love you- you crazy person?" He mocked in an accented falsetto.
"I- I never said you were a god in the sack," I giggled, blushing. "And besides you can't count the things people say during sex, that's cheating."
"How so?"
"Well, it's like taking the word of a drunk person,"
"So you're saying I'm intoxicating?"
"I'm saying you're impossible." I laughed, slapping his chest. His eyes slid open with malicious intent, and a playful smile played on his lips as he gripped my waist- lifting me off the bed, before slamming me back down into the soft blankets. I laughed trying to free my face, until I felt his mouth on my stomach- blowing a raspberry. "Ack! Let me up, you weirdo!"
"Nah," He sighed, nipping at the skin of my stomach lightly and shaking his head in a very pitbull-esque fashion. "I like you like this, all soft and smiley. I think I may just have to keep you here forever."
"Yeah?" I smiled at him, feeling very warm.
"Yeah. Sorry," He finished, though he looked anything but.
"I guess I could learn to live with it," I sighed, rolling my eyes.
"I take care of you, don't I?" He sat up, close to my face again.
"Yeah, you do." I bit my lip, looking away, leaning into the hand that I knew would be coming up to turn me back to him.
"How are you gonna lean on me like that and say you don't love me?" His quiet voice carried to me, and my eyes fluttered open, staring up at him. His eyes were still entirely unreadable, but his face was soft, smiling.
"How are you gonna look at me like that, and think you don't love me?" My voice was quiet, as though I hoped he wouldn't hear me, but he did.
His kiss was not soft now. It was a teeth-gnashing passion, and desperation in his tongue swiping through my mouth. He groaned against me, arms circling me, feeling as though he was trying to restrain me like I could disappear at any moment. I didn't mind it, the bindings felt like love, they felt like desire. I knew it wasn't healthy to crave this, but he wasn't healthy either. Maybe it was okay because we were both sick. Weak. Pathetic.
When he finished the kiss he leaned his forehead on mine, looking into my eyes.
"Where are you? Come back." He grumbled, pulling me into his lap.
"I'm here," I reassured.
"Good." He didn't believe me, but let the subject drop.
We sat like that for a long minute before my stomach growled, making Joker giggle, sliding me off his lap to put back on his boxers. He reached for his phone, sliding it to me.
"Tell Johnny I want breakfast."
"What do you-"
"You pick. I want to be surprised." He jumped off the mattress, sliding on a pair of jeans and his dirty hoodie from the floor. I began reaching for my own clothes, but he gripped my wrist. "You can wear my shirt a little longer, can't you Harls?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're like a dog, I swear to god."
"Woof," He shrugged, grinning, before leaving the room. I stood, putting on a pair of shorts, thankful again for the battery-powered heaters, as the old adage was not true. A hoe does indeed get cold. Sniffing his shirt, I realized that even without it, I smelled like him now. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but not an unpleasant one.
I called Johnny, ordering a large amount of food, and telling him to pick himself something up on J's dime since I was ordering, something that made him laugh.
"Sure thing, Miss Harley. Anything else I can get for you?" I thought about it, before telling him I would be sending a small grocery list. Keep enough food to make Schiff not act like a fucking freak.
Making my way out of the room, I found J where he spent most of his time, on his laptop, in the makeshift living room/office. I slid behind him, hands coming to his shoulders, slowly working the tension from them. He groaned, relaxing- though he continued typing.
"You're good with your hands."
"You knew that already,"
"Dirty girl!" He gasped in a faux-scandalized tone.
"Har-Har. Are you gonna tell me the plan yet?"
"No." He giggled, "It's a surprise."
"Ugh," I leaned on him.
"Ugh." He mocked. "Now get offa me, I'm working."
I rolled my eyes, but stood, moving to the seat across from him. "How do you even have internet on that thing?"
"It doesn't right now." He rolled his eyes. "I hook it up when I need it. Right now I'm planning. Research is mostly Johnny's Job. I put the shit together."
"Fair enough," I sighed, leaning back, and reaching for one of the packs on the table. Without looking up, he held up a lighter, flicking it to life. I smirked, leaning in to allow him, though passively, to light the cigarette.
Relaxing, leaning in the chair, It wasn't long before Johnny returned, bags in hand- He dropped the shelf-stable groceries in the room with the coffee maker and hot plate, and brought the rest to us. J opened his bag, snorting as he took in the foam container.
"Steak and eggs?"
I nodded, "You need protein. You eat like a twelve-year-old, left to his own devices. Don't be a baby, there's pancakes too."
"Ugh, forever a doctor." He rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine. Where's the ketchup?"
Dr. Quinzel's notes on her patient were in a language Gordon didn't fully understand. Short-hand of short-hand that he was not well versed enough to understand. One line, on her initial notes, labeled Video Observations made his eyebrows come together. A singular word circled. Sugar.
What did she mean by that? He wondered. All too soon he gave up trying to translate the papers back into English, deciding instead to watch her video sessions instead. He made note of the curious lack of videos in the file Arkham had sent him, intent to call the Doctor back for the rest of them.
"Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, overseeing psychological profiling and treatment of Patient 4479, AKA John Doe, AKA The Joker, AKA Jay for treatment purposes."
The camera was pointed at an empty seat, and Gordon could hear the Doctor take a deep breath, which stuttered as a knock came on the door.
"Come in" Gordon couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in her voice, wondering what the hell Jerimiah was thinking, putting this little girl in the room with a rabid dog. He heard the door open and saw two guards leading the jester into the room, where he was restrained to the chair. His eyes remained on the floor for a long moment, heaving a breath before glancing up. His eyes landed behind the camera, eyes widening only slightly before a slow smile covered his lips.
"So… I'm guessing I have you to thank for the fancy new silver in my molars?" His voice was teasing. Gordon noted that he seemed too familiar with the Doctor, for someone he just met, though he had been with Jim as well, so perhaps—
"They're a resin composite actually, they'll look just like real teeth." So why is her tone the same? Gordon watched the clown's eyes light up, eager to have someone to play with.
Jim sighed, rubbing his temples, Why the hell is she so calm now? Is she faking?
"You must have shit taste then. Say- how shit is your taste? You think I got a chance?"
Gordon's eyes jerked to the screen, a horrified look crossing his face- Dr. Quinzel's cough-laugh was obvious, bringing his eyebrows together. The child didn't even know what she was getting into. He brought a trembling hand up to his lips, looking away from the screen. He didn't want to see any more. From the beginning. He was planning this from their first session.
"Oh, Doctor." He sighed, "Don't worry, you'll get used to me."
"Somehow, Mr. J. I doubt that."
"Won't you trust me?"
"Unlikely."
"But not impossible?"
Jim wondered at that encounter, eyebrows coming together as he took in the teasing expression of the man. Jesus Christ, how was she not pulled off the case immediately? Gordon knew the answer, looking into the man's file. After the Phillips incident, no one was willing to sit in a room with the man.
He hoped her reward for her fearlessness wouldn't be a shallow grave or worse.
Jack was having a nightmare. He didn't recognize it as one. He felt as though he was in hell, watching the object of his affection being tormented in every way his mind could conceive, all at the hands of the man who had left him clutching his own entrails on her kitchen floor.
Cutting her, leaving more scars on her perfect body- hurting her in other- more intimate- ways. His words haunted Jack. That he would do whatever he wanted to Her… Jack's imagination was his worst enemy- destroying him piece by piece. What exactly did Joker want? It wasn't hard to imagine. Though it was hard to face.
He woke with a scream. As he had every time he tried to sleep since she had been taken. It had been over a week now. They had removed the Television from his room because he refused to sleep, terrified he would miss news on his beloved. Jack felt as though he was losing his mind with worry, with fear. He swore to himself that the moment she was back in his arms, he would never let her out of his sight again. He would be stronger, and learn to protect her. He bargained with god every morning, and the devil every night, offering his very soul just to return her safely to his side.
He swore to himself that if he ever got the chance, he would not hesitate to destroy the clown. He finally had everything. He finally had the life he deserved. The woman he deserved and now it was all being taken because he wasn't skilled in knife-fighting?
A cry escaped him, as he sobbed, his stitches pulling at the heavy pulls, and a nurse rushed in.
"Mr. Ryder- Please! You can't let yourself get so excited." She lifted a needle, inserting it into his IV quickly.
"Please- please not the drugs! I need to be awake-"
"Mr. Ryder, you cannot help her in this state. Do you want her to come home and see you in this shape?"
"I don't care how I look as long as she comes home!" He snarled, and the nurse's lips pursed, pushing the drugs. "Wait- Please." His tone shifted, no longer menacing.
But it was too late. His eyelids already felt heavy, and he glared at the fat nurse. Fucking bitch. Jack found himself wishing he had the strength in his limbs to strike the woman. Why does no one fucking listen to me?
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ryder, but you're in danger of ripping your stitches again."
"I don't… care." He said, fading fast. "If I'm… as…asleep… how…"
"Get some sleep, Mr. Ryder. Commissioner Gordon has assured me that you will be the first to know when they find information." His disdain for the nurse was the last thing he was consciously aware of before he slipped back into the dreamless void they seemed insistent on keeping him locked within, like some kind of purgatory while they decided his fate. Hell or Heaven.
All dependent on an insane clown's whims.
AN: Hey! I don't know if anyone is still reading here, since my traffic stats aren't working, but I wanted to ask if you liked it to please comment! :)) It makes my day every time.
