Her Favorite Patient

Part 4
On a particularly chilly night Harleen came to a difficult decision. She was allowing the Joker to get too close to her. She had tried to convince herself that she was just doing it to help him, that the end justified the means. But she knew the truth – that it was her who wanted to be close to him. And as a medical professional, she couldn't allow that to happen.
She folded one of her fuzzy, red blankets under her arm and walked through the high-risk ward of Arkham. She knew the halls were stark and poorly lit, but it hadn't really dawned on her just how depressing it must be to exist there until the moldy cement walls held captive someone she cared about. An occasional voice gave out codes over the intercom. She wondered how the patients, one in particular, could sleep through the noise. A few armed guards trailed up and down the stark prison-like hallway, nodding obligatory hellos as she passed them.
When she reached J's cell, she peered through the small window at the top of his door. He was splayed out on his metal bunk, a thin, ragged blanket barely covering his long limbs. He was wearing his violet trousers and button-down shirt and vest, most likely to keep as warm as possible in his dank cell. He stared blankly at the ceiling as he shuffled his deck of beat-up cards.
She sighed. She hated to do this on such a cold, dreary night, but it had to be done. She unlocked his door and stepped inside. When he saw who was in his cell, he sat straight up in bed and smiled broadly. His eyes lit up.
“Harley. You came to visit me.”
She gave him a soft, sad smile and nodded. “I thought you could use an extra blanket.”
He rose and gave her a hug. He was shivering. “Thank you. I thought my nuts were going to fall off.”
She smiled, but did not return his hug. He lowered his arms and she handed him the blanket. He sat with it on the bed and patted the spot beside him.
“Warm me up?” He batted his sleepy brown eyes.
She shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I can't. That's what I came to tell you.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I can't be your doctor anymore.”
He winked at her, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Oh, I get it. The higher ups caught on. That's fine. We can still be pals. You can visit me.”
“No.”
“Why not?” There was a trace of anger in his voice.
“Because I let you get too close. It was unethical. I was supposed to be your therapist, to help you, but instead I sat back and allowed you to play one of your mind games.”
He stood up and lumbered toward her. He stopped centimeters from her and bent his head down. He towered over her almost menacingly, his wavy locks falling over his scarred, masculine face. His eyes plead with her, but there was a darkness in them. He touched a gloved hand to her cheek.
“Harley, it wasn't like that. I wanted you to find something true, I mean really true, in yourself. I... I care about you.”
She pulled his hand from her cheek and shook her head again. “I care about you too. But we're not good for each other. We take each other to a very dark place, a place I don't want to be.”
A voice blared over the intercom. “All armed guards report immediately to Level 3. We have a possible Code Orange. I repeat, all guards to Level 3.”
“Shit,” Harleen muttered. “That's an escape attempt.”
She moved toward the cell door, but the Joker clutched her roughly by the arm.
“Harley, please don't go.” His words plead, but his voice was a growl.
She furrowed her brow. “I have to, Joker. And please call me Harleen.”
She tried to squirm out of his grip, but he grabbed her other arm and pulled her harshly against him. His brown and green locks fell wildly across a livid face she had only seen in the news.
“We had a deal, Doctor,” he growled.
“The deal is off.” Her voice stood her ground, but her body trembled.
The voice sounded over the intercom again. “Code Orange on Level 3! I repeat, Code Orange on Level 3! Prepare for automatic lockdown!”
Sirens began to blare. She jerked away from him and moved for the door, but a second, windowless steel door fell in front of it, locking the sound of the sirens outside. She pounded frantically on the door.
“Someone help! Let me out!”
She screeched as a sharp pain gripped her scalp.
“You know the beauty of these cells? They're so airtight, no one can hear you scream.”
He jerked her by her blond pony-tail and shoved her roughly into the wall. He gripped her wrists and pinned her torso tightly against the cold cement with his. His eyes were narrow and furious, and they bored into hers.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was small, her eyes wide.
“I told you, Harleen, I'm a man of my word. And I will hold up my end of the bargain. But first, you've got to hold up yours.”
Her lips trembled and she spoke in a soft, childlike voice. “Please don't do this.”
His voice softened, but his grip didn't. “Who touched you, Harley?”
“Please, J, I can't--”
He shouted in her face, “Tell me who touched you, Harley!”
He glared at her and bared his teeth. Tears welled up in her soft blue eyes.
“Okay then,” he growled. “We'll just have to do this the hard way.”
He held her wrists with one hand and tore open her blouse with the other. She could feel his clothed erection growing against her belly as she tried to squirm away.
“Did he pin you against the wall, little Harley?” he whispered huskily into her ear and ran the tip of his tongue along her lobe.
She whimpered against his Adam's apple. She could smell his sweat.
“Answer me.”
“No! He didn't!” She sobbed.
“He was rough though, wasn't he?
She sniffled. “S-s-sometimes.”
“S-s-sometimes?” He mocked her sniffles and giggled.
She glared up at him through tear-soaked eyes.
“Oh boo hoo hoo, poor little Harley.” He stuck out his scarred lower lip in a mock pout. “All she has to do is give her rapist a name.”
“No!” She spit in his face.
And the corners of his mouth slid into that horrifying smirk, the smirk her first attacker wore when he forced himself into her unready body. She shuddered as Joker slowly lapped her spit from around his mouth. He panted through a broad grin.
“That's okay. I can at least find out which positions he preferred.”
He grabbed a fist full of disheveled blond hair and dragged her over to his bunk. He pushed her down and hastily unzipped his violet trousers. She struggled to get up, but he pushed her onto her back and pinned her arms and legs with his sinewy limbs. He reached down with one hand to lift her skirt and breathed against her neck.
“Tell me, little girl, was he a biter?”
He nipped at her neck, and when she didn't answer, he bit down hard.
“Ah!” She half-shouted, half-moaned.
“You better tell me before I rip your throat out,” he growled and pushed his teeth over her gullet.
She could feel his very hard cock rubbing hotly against her inner thigh.
“He wasn't,” she breathed.
He climbed further on top of her, so that his knees now pinned her shoulders and his large cock brushed against her cheek. She could smell a slight musk on his balls. She felt a soft, familiar rush in her pussy. Even her own body betrayed her, just as it had when she was a girl.
Joker brushed the head of his cock over her panting mouth and chuckled softly. “Did he make you do this?”
“Not always,” she murmured against his warm head.
His eyes widened in mock surprise. “So he fucked you a lot then?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Who would have guessed? Little Harley the Harlot, two years short of a decade and already versed in the music of the dick-flute.”
She shut her eyes.
“Look at me,” he said in a sing-song voice and patted her cheek.
She kept her eyes shut tight.
“Look at me!” he barked and slapped her.
She opened them slowly, tears spilling onto her flushed cheeks.
“What if I want you to do it?”
“Please, J, don't--” she began to sob again.
“Tell me his name.”
She closed her eyes again. “No.”
He gritted his teeth and jerked her head back by the hair. “Have it your way.”
He shoved his cock deep into her moist mouth, shivering when she made little whimpering noises against him. He groaned when he hit the back of her throat and felt her gag reflex. After a few thrusts he pulled his length out of her mouth and smiled at the little trail of saliva that still joined his head to her lower lip.
“That was fun. But I bet I know what he really liked.” He turned her onto her belly and moved behind her, pulling her hips up with his lightly muscled forearms. “Upsy-daisy.”
He lifted her skirt onto her back and jerked her white cotton panties down. He whistled. “What a nice little round tush.”
She glanced back at him, her lips quivering.
“Now now, until you tell me what I want to hear, you may as well kick back and enjoy the ride.” He trailed a fingertip slowly around her asshole. “Did he touch you here?”
She cried softly.
“I'll take that as a yes. So, back door man, huh?”
“J-just f-fingers,” she managed to say.
“Aw, that's nice of him. But what if I'm not that nice?” He brushed his dick over her asshole.
“Not there, please!” She sobbed loudly.
“Oh sh-sh-sh!” He tugged playfully at her pony-tail. “What about here?”
He rubbed his warm dick against her moist, parted pussy lips. His erection felt strangely comforting as it pressed against her already relaxing slit. For a moment she actually wanted him inside her. She whined and moved her pussy against him.
“We have a winner.” He snickered and pushed the tip of his head inside her.
Suddenly, she panicked.
“No no no no!” She tried to wriggle away, but he held her hips tightly in place.
“You better make up your goddamn mind!” he ordered, teeth tightly clenched.
She looked back at him, her glassy blue eyes pleading with his cruel glare. The soft voice that came from her was that of a frightened little girl. “Please don't. Pretty please. I'll be good. I promise.”
He slowly shook his head no, his green locks dripping sweat onto her back. “You know what I want.”
“I can't tell you,” she whined. “I'm not supposed to.”
His voice was gruff. “You better snitch, young lady, or you're going to be in so much trouble.”
A few tears dropped onto the dingy mattress. Then Harley pressed her face into the pillow and held perfectly still.
He sneered at her. “So that's it. You'll just lay here and let yourself get fucked?”
She didn't respond.
His dark eyes narrowed and his teeth were gritted. His voice was eerily low and calm. “You know why I think you won't rat him out? You want me to fuck you. Just like he did. You want to keep letting people fuck you. Because it's better than feeling nothing at all. Because as long as you can hold those scars deep inside, you don't have to admit that you're anything less than a sweet little girl who never grew up. But the truth is, everyone would rather be the one doing the fucking, and that includes sweet-toothed, cartoon-watching, pig-tailed, tight-twatted, eight-year-old Harley Quinzel. Well, sweetie-pie, I'm a fucker. And I'm gonna give you everything you want.”
He spread her cheeks unceremoniously and shoved his full length into her. Over and over and over. He fucked her and it fucking hurt. Just like it did when she was a little girl. In fact, it had hurt so much she hadn't had sex since then. She wasn't even sure what normal sex was supposed to feel like. She was twenty-five years old and had never had a pleasurable sexual experience. All because of one sick bastard that she couldn't even find it in herself to rat out in her adulthood. And for what? So she could keep her false sanctity or spend her career feeling superior to people who were, in reality, exactly like her? So she could somehow reach age twenty-five and never have had an orgasm? Fuck that.
“His name was Ryan,” She raised her head up and gasped.
His dark eyes were still narrowed, but the corners of the Joker's mouth twisted upward. He slowed his furious pounding to soft, sensuous thrusts. He leaned over her back and ran his tongue along her ear. “More.”
“He was my step-brother. Ten years older.”
He pulled her shirt off of her and unhooked her bra. Once he had moved her bra away from her soft flesh, he slid a hand around to lightly kneed her breasts. She sighed and put her own small hand on his, moving as he moved, letting him fill the emptiness she was used to with his wonderful velvet warmth. A soft moan escaped her full, parted lips.
“More,” he breathed into her ear and licked his lips.
She spoke in a little girl's voice. “He said he'd hurt my mom if I told anyone. Then he smirked. Just like you.”
“Bet he never did this.” Joker let his fingertips wander from her breasts, caressing her gently moving ribs, her soft belly and light tuft of hair, all the way down to her clit. He rubbed it in small, gentle circles, eliciting a soft cry from her open mouth. He moved his fingers to caress her labia, leaving his palm for her to rub her clit against. After a moment, he reached back up.
She whined and pushed her ass against him.
“Sh-sh-sh.” He chuckled and grasped her little hand, pulling it down and placing it so that she could feel where they were joined. He moaned when she moved her fingers over her wet folds to the base of his languorously moving member. “More, Harley.”
“He used to call me Harley Quinn. Said I was his little harlequin doll.”
“You're not,” he told her and stroked her clit again, firmly this time. “You're my Harley Quinn.”
She gasped. She had never felt this good. She could feel his sweat-moistened curls brushing back and forth over her shoulders as he thrust into her slickness. His hand rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts. The feeling, the whole situation, was intense. But then, she couldn't imagine it being any other way with him.
“More,” he rasped.
“That's it. Please, J...”
“Please what?”
“Please say I'm yours again.”
His voice was low and husky. “Harley Quinn, you're mine. You're my little harlequin doll, and I won't share you with the other boys. Do you want to keep playing, little harlequin?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He grinned and raised up, moving his hands to her hips. He slowly slid most of himself out of her, leaving only his head inside. Suddenly, he thrust his entire length into her, hard, slamming into her cervix.
“Ah!” she cried out in pain, and pulled hastily away, leaving him kneeling over his erection. She backed up against the cold metal headboard bars and stared at him with wide eyes.
A sly smile spread across his face as he pulled off her shoes, skirt, and panties. He crawled dominantly over her. She was wholly and completely naked beneath him.
“You hurt me,” she muttered.
He put on a sad face and stroked her hair. “I didn't mean to. I would never hurt my little Harley Quinn.”
He slowly slid himself into her again. “I'm sorry about all this. You were going to leave me, and well, I just don't know what I'd do without you. Everyone sees the make-up and the scars and they gawk at me like I'm some carnival side-show. But you – you never did.”
He kept talking as he moved himself gently in and out of her. “But how's a socially-awkward guy like me supposed to get a sweet, pretty girl's attention? I just thought that if I could show you what I see, make you feel what I feel, then maybe, just maybe, you'd love me too.”
She gazed up at his eyes and stroked the curls that fell over his face.
“I just want you to love me, Harley.”
He took her hand in his and kissed it. Then he pinned both her hands above her head and stared into her eyes, licking his lips. “I'm sorry I hurt you. I want to make you feel good now.”
He kissed her deeply, letting his tongue slide sensuously over hers while he filled her with his hot length. He sucked her lower lip and loosened his grip on one of her hands to reach down and rub her clit.
She closed her eyes and sighed, leaving her free hand above her. His love-making felt good again. She wrapped her legs around his still-clothed waist and lifted her chin to expose her neck.
He chuckled as he nibbled and sucked her presented flesh. “Can I go deeper, Harley?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He pushed all of himself deep inside her.
She whimpered. Her pussy ached, but at the same time it felt incredibly good. A strange sensation began to wash over her.
“J?”
“Open your eyes.”
She looked up at his strained face. His damp green hair fell over his furrowed brow; his usual smile was replaced with an open, panting mouth. She felt a rushing in his cock.
He groaned as he came inside her. It sent her over the edge.
“Oh, J.” She felt her pussy tighten around him as he gave her the best gift anyone had ever given her: her first orgasm. Nearly twenty years of frustration exploded in waves between her legs. She softly moaned her gratitude into his ear.
Still inside, he rested his full weight on her and panted against her cheek. She wrapped her arms gratefully around his neck.
When his breathing had slowed, he raised himself a few inches above her and slowly pulled out. He looked into her eyes. “Harley?”
“Yes, J?”
“Do you want to know how I got these scars?”
Her lips parted as she stared into his eyes and slowly nodded.
He leaned in, brushing his warm, deeply slashed cheek over her soft skin. She could feel every wonderful indention. And then--
He told her.
Her skin crawled at his terrible, lurching whisper. He was a demon who had taken her hand and was leading her through the tenderest parts of hell. And even though his words were truly horrifying, the corners of her mouth slowly spread into a wide, delighted grin. He had told her. His second gift, all for her.
When he finished, he brushed his face back over hers and met her eyes. He smiled as she lovingly caressed his scars. He was beautiful.