Four of a Kind

OK.. more smut for your enjoyment. As always, I own nothing except Siren and make no $$ from this story. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed! Enjoy!

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“Well what do you think?” Siren emerged from the bathroom decked in her Halloween finery. Even though the Joker had escaped from Arkham three weeks before, Wayne Enterprises would be conducting business as usual for their annual Halloween bash. True, this year they’d be stepping up security so as not to have a repeat of last year’s disaster, but she didn’t think they’d have any problem. After all, she was part of tonight’s entertainment.



“Interesting choice of costuming,” Jonathan joked, raising an eyebrow. She was dressed like Dorothy from a production of The Wizard of Oz in Hell. She wore a blue and white gingham dress that was so tight it threatened to spill her bosom completely into view. The skirt fell over a tiny crinoline that barely covered her ass. The stockings she wore climbed to just over her knees and she wore platform ruby slippers that made her look as if she were teetering on stilts. Her white hair was covered in a pigtailed wig that made her look almost innocent. Almost.



“I thought it appropriate,” she giggled as he pulled a cheerful scarecrow mask over his head. “I have never wanted you more than I do right now,” she purred, walking carefully over to him, trying to squelch her laughter.

“Focus please,” he groaned. “If you screw this up its all for naught.”



“Tell me again why were aren’t going to rob these blueblooded phonies…” She flitted around him, stuffing straw back into place at his sleeves. “It would be so easy--”



“We wouldn’t want to ruin your debut. First we make them love you. Then we use them. Its all very psychological and technical. You lull people into a false sense of security. It makes them easier to control.”



“I think you need to up your medication, love.”



“Shut up. Now remember, you can’t break if someone asks you about Darcy. Probably no one will. The only one who might know you is tucked safely away in a straitjacket. I still can’t believe you didn’t just kill her--”



“She was my best friend, Jonathan--”



“That’s still up for debate.” He wasn’t really worried about Mya Chandler. None of her so-called friends had even showed up to claim her at the hospital and so after three weeks and her still not being able remember who she was or speak coherently, the doctors had sent her to Arkham. It was all the same with these street punks. No one would give Darcy Sylvan a second thought. He’d made sure that anyone with ties had been neatly taken care of six months ago. And as much as he loathed this latest blithering idiot, Joker… he had to thank him. It certainly had been easier to pass off the “unsolved murders” of the remaining members of Belladonna’s Kiss on him. He had so many on his curriculum vitae that a few more wouldn’t hurt. “Come on… we’ll be late,” he grumbled through the mask, offering his arm.



She laughed again, seeing their reflection in the window. “Off to see the wizard…”

**************************************



“I want to go too,” Harley whined crawling up behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder, looking down into the mirror he held in his fingertips. “I’ve been cooped up in this place for three weeks now. And though you’re interesting company, I gotta get out of here.”



Joker tipped the mirror so he could see her face and then turned, showing her an annoyed expression. “I haven’t worked all that out yet, pet. Everybody in Gotham City has been looking for you--” He laughed. “They think I kidnapped you.”



“You did!” she pouted.



“If they only knew what a little harlot you really are…” He sighed and turned back to the mirror, taking up the white greasepaint and starting to rub it over his skin. He did this haphazardly and Harley shook her head.



“Gimme that, you scare me,” she purred, crawling around his body to straddle his lap and taking the makeup pot. “This is why men shouldn’t wear makeup.” He started to push her off of him, but he was starting to get used to her constant fussing over him. It had annoyed him at first, her always being underfoot, asking him if he’d eaten, ironing his clothes--- that had been a bit disastrous. But he’d come to think of her as a naughty valet with huge tits. She folded her legs around his waist and went to work on him. She smeared the white paint evenly over his features. “There… that’s better.” He watched her detachedly as she picked up the other palette of red and black. Her delicate fingertips worked deftly, painting dark circles around his eyes artfully. She giggled and poked her fingers in his eye. “Close ‘em.” When she finished with his eyes she sat back, depending on him to keep her from falling backwards off of his lap. She cocked her head to the side and examined him. “Hmmm… it’ll do I suppose.” She looked down at the red paint and then up to his face. “Hold that pose.” She slipped off of him and skipped into the bathroom. He could hear her rummaging through drawers and in the medicine cabinet. “Aha!” she squealed and appeared in the doorway with a q-tip. He could only stare at her questioningly as she repositioned herself atop him and went to work painting the freakish grin. “You can’t just go around looking like a cannibalistic clown.”



“You know… I did just fine before you--”



“Shush shush, puddin’,” she giggled. “Someone like you needs someone like me.”



He bristled at her use of pet names. He hated it. And she knew it. “Just hurry up.”



She finished up and again looked over her handiwork. “You’ll do.”



“Finally.” He stood up, spilling her to the floor at his feet. She stayed there, leaning back on her elbows to watch him button his shirt up the front.



“So… I wanna go.”



“Absolutely not.” His voice lingered on the last syllable and he turned to look down at her.



“But it’s a party-- I LOVE parties.”



“We aren’t going to be sipping champagne and mingling. I have to restore Gotham’s faith in the power of laughter. I’ve been gone just long enough for them to get all comfortable. A big bonfire at Wayne Enterprises will be just the thing to get them bloodthirsty again.”



Harley crossed her arms defiantly and pouted. “Why should you get to have all the fun?”



“Pouting doesn’t become you, pet. Be a good girl and daddy might bring you back a billionaire.” He patted her head and left her sitting in the middle of the floor. She heard the door lock as he walked out.



“Oooooohhhhhhh!” she shouted and threw his hand mirror at the door, shattering it.

Harley considered her predicament. She could do as she’s told like a good little puppy… or play now and pay for it later. “Definitely play now,” she giggled, somersaulting to her feet. She skipped over to the closet and threw it open. A collection of clothes of all sorts were packed inside. Some of them she recognized as belonging to him others were obviously left from the people that had inhabited this place before. Sometimes she wondered if the previous owners were lying in a heap downstairs like something out of Psycho. She rifled through the rack, looking horrified at some of the selection. “Now this could work…” She found a pair of black leather pants. Holding them up to her body, she could see that they would fit her like a second skin. “Hmmm… maybe.” She threw them aside and kept rummaging. By the time she was done, she’d found a pair of leather ass-kicking boots and a fire-engine red rain slicker.



“Now… what to do with all this? I mean, I have to have a Halloween costume. It IS a Halloween party.” It didn’t take long to find the scissors and thread that he’d used to sew up her hand the other night. It should do in a pinch. A few rips and cuts and she had enough of that PVC raincoat to make a red corset that would fit tightly over her top. That paired with the black pants… hmmm…



She thanked God for Home Economics as she used the needle and thread to sew up the simple seams of the corset. When she pulled it on, the seams groaned, but held firm. Her hipbones were clearly visible over the top of the leather pants and for a moment she was afraid that she would have no modesty left, but it worked. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and sighed. He was right though. Everyone would recognize her. She needed a mask or something. Or makeup. She giggled and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. Looking down at the floor, she picked up the makeup. When she was done, her face was a mask of white and black. A mirror of him. More delicate. Not quite a clown. More of a harlequin.

*****************************



“Now that’s a couples costume,” Jillian complained, clinging to Bruce Wayne’s arm and snarling exasperatedly. “You could have at least tried to come up with something better.”



Bruce sighed. He remembered having this same conversation with Rachel a year ago. Everything was so different now. He just wasn’t in the mood for a party. But he’d promised Alfred that he would at least try to have some fun. That’s what prompted him to bring a date to this stupid party. After last year, he really didn’t want to even bother with it, but it had become the main fundraiser for the rebuilding project of Gotham General Hospital. This year’s costume was even more disturbing than last. He hadn’t even bothered with fake blood this time, only an arrow through his forehead. Jillian was, of course, radiant in her Helen of Troy costume. “Sorry. I just didn’t have time.” He looked at the couple of whom she spoke. The girl wore what appeared to be a costume from the stripper version of The Wizard of Oz. Her date was a dopey scarecrow that didn’t really look he belonged with her.



He watched as the girl dressed as Dorothy mingled around the room, smiling sweetly as she made her way towards the front. The industrial band they’d gotten for this year’s party seemed to know her and they waved her to the stage. She talked to them for a bit and then took the stage. The girl looked so familiar, but Bruce couldn’t place her.



“Having fun Master Wayne?” Bruce turned to see Alfred there. Checking up on him, evidently.



“Alfred, that girl on stage. Do you recognize her?”



“No, I would assume she was with the band, Sir.” He handed him a glass of champagne.



“Make sure they know downstairs. No one without an invitation up on the floor--”



“Yes Sir. Mr. Fox--”



“Make sure, Alfred. I don’t want a replay of last year and if Joker is crazy enough to show his face in Gotham again so soon--”



“Its taken care of. Relax--” He paused, seeing Jillian sidling up to Bruce. “Have a dance or two.”



Jillian led him out into the crowd. She looked around to see who might be taking her picture dancing with Bruce Wayne. She smiled and posed as cameras flashed when she dragged him to the center of the dance floor. The music began as the naughty Dorothy took the microphone. The beat was some kind of spooky sounding tango and Jillian immediately began pulling him around the floor.



“Another life, another time,

We’re Siamese twins, writhing intertwined

Face to face, no telling lies,

The masks they slide to reveal a new disguise”



Darcy smiled as she sang, enjoying the feeling as her voice rose and fell. It hadn’t taken long to find new bandmates and it was as if they’d been together for years. Her voice rose in the crescendo and she could see the audience of Gotham’s elite moving in time to the delicate pounding of the bass drum. She was drawing them in, just like he said she would. She made eye contact with a man in the audience and he stared at her longingly. She purred into the microphone and he came like a puppy begging for a treat. She could smell the light scent of the catalyst drug in the air and she knew that Jonathan was keeping up his end of the bargain. Pretty soon the crowd had all converged on the stage, watching her every move.



“They say follow your heart, follow it through,

But how can you, when its split in two--”



The music was so loud that they almost didn’t hear the gunfire. But the screams that followed were hard to ignore.



“Well… here we all are again.”

***********************************************



Harley stepped out of the stolen car in front of Wayne Tower and handed over the keys to the valet. He looked her over as she crawled out of the front seat and she smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes. She could see that there was a security guard at the door checking invitations of guests that were entering the revolving doors. Hmmm… one of the kinks she hadn’t thought of. She looked around and walked a block down the street, watching as people exited the parking garage in their spooky finery. A slight woman, probably a secretary, stalked out alone. She wore a conservative black costume capped off by a jester’s cap. Harley’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the hat. It would just match her costume. And this chick didn’t look like she was going to have any fun anyway. She waited until the girl came to the end of the alley exiting the garage. She stopped to rummage through her purse for her ticket.



“Hi there,” Harley chirped brightly. “Looking for something?”



The woman looked up, surprised that someone was talking to her. “Yeah… I lost my ticket to this party somewhere in my bag.”



“So annoying. That’s why I never carry a purse.” Harley giggled and stepped into the shadow. “I like your hat.”



“Thanks---” With a swift movement, she grabbed the girl’s head and smashed her face into the concrete support.



“Oops!” The girl dropped like a stone and Harley reached down, grabbing the ticket. She started to walk away and then remembered the hat. She bent over, taking the hat from the woman and kicking her into the alley. “Thanks!” she shouted cheerfully over her shoulder as she skipped towards the entrance.



********************************



All of the color seemed to drain from Bruce’s face as he saw the Joker push his way through the crowd. It was an all too familiar scene as the music stopped and all of the guests froze.



“Its nice that we can all have this happy reunion. And for such a worthy cause.” His mouth lingered on each syllable, sending chills racing up the spine of any conscious person in the room. “And I’d like to do my part for the rebuilding of Gotham General.” He reached down and put a clip of bills into the collection plate on the centerpiece. “I must admit I was a bit miffed at not being sent an invitation. But don’t worry. I won’t hold it against any of you.”



Bruce had a brief argument with himself as he tried to decide whether to flee the scene or stay. Jillian was frozen to his side, but Alfred gave him an insistent look. He shoved Jillian at Alfred and slipped into the crowd and along the wall to the exit. To his surprise, someone had sealed the lock and he couldn’t get out. He cursed under his breath as he searched his pockets. He caught the eye of a woman who stared at him desperately. He couldn’t speak, but only placed a finger over his lips to signal that she should stay quiet. He pulled out a small device the size of a credit card. A new little toy of Fox’s, it was supposed to be a tiny laser beam that could pierce through steel. To his surprise, it was every bit as good as Fox had described and the doorknob fell away quickly. Using his shoulder, he pushed the door open and disappeared inside.



“The Batman and your illustrious police force would have me believe that all of you are the good people of Gotham. I must regretfully-- disagree. You see… this shithole has been given more than enough chances to raise itself up out of the muck, but every time--- you didn’t disappoint.” His voice was sing-songy and cold, reaching to the marrow of Darcy’s bones. She looked down, finding Jonathan’s eyes and pleading. He said nothing, but showed her the canister of fear toxin in his sleeve. He began moving towards the Joker.



“I contend that if given the chance… every one of you is a killer-- like me. You just choose not to be honest with yourselves. So tonight, ladies and gentlemen---you’ve been chosen to participate in an exciting new game--- Win, Lose, or Die! Every one of the exits to this place has been carefully sealed off--” A collection of gasps echoed throughout the room. “But not to worry-- I have left one open--” He gestured to the side door where two of his men stood, wielding sawed-off shotguns. “All you have to do is make it out before the detonator goes off--” He was cut off by a kick to the stomach that sent the detonator flying out of his hand and landing somewhere near the stage.



“Game’s over.” Batman snarled, throwing a punch that connected with his jaw as he stumbled backwards. Joker recovered quickly and slashed at him with the short dagger he always employed.



“We’ve been all over this, Batsy… you’re just not good enough for me.” Joker laughed and artfully thrust forward, stabbing into the bat suit hard enough to make him bleed. Batman grabbed his wrist at the last moment, twisting it back and crashing the heel of his hand down on the bridge of his opponent’s nose. Joker could only laugh as he stumbled back again. “Every party has a pooper--” he laughed, dodging another of Batman’s punches.



The party crowd screamed and ran this way and that trying to avoid the melee. Two of the Joker’s men managed to get a hold on Batman, twisting his arm and pushing him to his knees. He managed to break away, smashing their heads together and throwing them aside like toys. Just as he recovered enough to take another shot, the Joker had grabbed the naughty Dorothy singer from the stage and pulled her down onto the floor. He held her in front of him, a gun pointed to her temple. Darcy sighed, having been in this position before. Batman’s jaw tightened, a creeping sense of dread and déjà vu taking over.



“I think we’ve been here before, Bats.”



“But it’s such an overdone joke.”



“The classics never die--”



“You’ll never get out of here. The police have this place surrounded by now,” he rasped. “Not without your little toys.”



“You mean this?” A new voice was added to the mix and everyone turned to look. Harley dangled the detonator from a fingertip and gave a look of mock surprise when she saw everyone staring. She giggled and did a series of cartwheels into the room, landing near the Joker and Darcy. “You should be more careful not to drop things, sweetie.” She winked at Batman just before she pulled the key and the back wall was blown to kingdom come.



The crowd screamed and started pouring into the hallway, looking desperately for a way out. Joker threw Darcy at Batman and grabbed Harley’s wrist. He began firing at random, driving people to get out of his way as they ran down the hall, laughing maniacally in the wake of the fireball that was currently pouring out of the penthouse of Wayne Tower.



*************************************************



Siren found herself lying on top of Batman. Her Dorothy wig was slightly askew and her crinoline was flipped up over her ass. “Uhmmm… sorry…” she stammered, letting him help her to her feet. She tried to hide her face, suddenly paranoid that he would recognize her from the previous year’s party.



“Are you okay?” he growled.



“Uhh… yeah… I think so. Its not every day a girl gets held at gunpoint.” She smiled sweetly and smoothed her dress out just as Jonathan came up from behind and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the room. She waved weakly. “What the hell is your problem?” she shrieked as soon as they were out of earshot and rushing down the stairs.



“Shut up… let’s just get out of here.”



“No!” she screamed, digging her heels in and stopping.



“Fine, stay,” he snarled, walking away. She was jerked into action as a burning beam fell across the corridor behind them.



“Hey wait!”



*************************************************



Harley flinched as another explosion rattled the window she was currently trying to climb out of. It was a steep drop to the street, and to his credit, the Joker stood at the bottom waiting for her. Standing on the ledge, she balanced gracefully, crawling over to the drainpipe and wrapping her arms and legs around it. She slid easily to the street, taking his offered hand and taking off at a dead run down the sidewalk just as the police and fire squad pulled up out front. He pulled her into the alley and up the stairs of the parking garage. Confused and panicked guests still poured out of Wayne Tower, rushing to their cars, still screaming. They slithered along the edge of the parking deck, sticking to the shadows. Coming around the corner, they saw a lone man climbing onto a motorcycle, seemingly oblivious to the events taking place next door. With predatory precision, Joker leapt up from behind the man, killing him with a quick twist of the neck and throwing him aside like an empty sack. Harley didn’t wait for an invitation and delicately stepped over the body as she climbed onto the back of the motorcycle almost after it was moving.



She laughed as they sped past others in their ripped up Halloween costumes, waving and blowing kisses. “Smile for the camera,” he shouted, pointing up to the surveillance camera at the exit to the garage. Harley stood up at the back of the bike, sticking her tongue out in a perfect Gene Simmons pose as they sped past. Pulling out in traffic, they nearly caused a pile-up as they cut off a police car. They could only laugh harder.



Harley had never felt this free. She’d spent her whole life doing what she thought she was supposed to. After she was orphaned, she’d done everything she could to please her grandmother. Including fucking her way through Gotham University. She had to be the best, even if she didn’t feel like it. Always kept in a cage of normal appearances and success. But that was over now. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted. Chaos would be her drug of choice.



Her sense of euphoria didn’t last long as she looked behind them and realized that they were being pursued. “Uhmm… I don’t know if this is the best time to tell you this… but uhm… we’ve got company!” she shouted over the den of the traffic mixed with the sirens. The bike swerved to the side slightly as he looked over his shoulder, seeing Batman behind them and quickly gaining.



“He is a persistent fuck…”he laughed, swerving quickly over two lanes of traffic. Cars screeched to a halt trying to avoid them, only making Harley squeal with delight. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as he turned sharply, almost laying them down on the street, but recovering just as the skin of Harley’s cheek kissed the pavement. The Batman was able to stop on a dime and change direction, charging them again as they wove through oncoming traffic. The Joker knew that Batman would never continue if he thought the lives of innocent bystanders was at stake, so he became more reckless with each passing second. Three cars screeched to a halt, banging into the guard rails on either side as they tried to avoid the crazed motorcycles. To The Joker’s surprise, The Batman didn’t give up, but only gained on them until he was nearly beside them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harley blow him a kiss and then wave as they accelerated. Batman reached out, wanting to grab Harley’s hand, but he couldn’t’ get quite close enough.



They rounded another corner, shifting down a side street, finally getting a lead. “Okay Harley…ride’s over…” he purred. He pulled her arms tighter around his waist and slowed slightly as he intentionally laid the bike down, their bodies skidding down the alley as the bike took off in a different direction and crashed into a line of cars at a stoplight.



“Owww…” Harley whined, sitting up and trying to smooth her hair down without much success. “Did you have to crash us?”

“Unless you wanted to be thrust into the hands of the Batman,” he snarled, spitting blood at the pavement.



She turned and looked over at him. He had shielded her body with his as they skidded and therefore had taken the brunt of the road burn. His head was gashed and the scar on his cheek had opened, pouring blood. The arm of his jacket was shredded and she could see the scraped and bruised skin underneath. He tried to stand up but fell down again, shaking his head to clear it. “Holy shit, babe. Are you okay?” She ran to him, attempting to help him to his feet.



“I’ll live…” he groaned, falling to his knees again. “That was really… fucking… stupid…” He wiped the blood from his mouth on his sleeve, growling as he saw that his suit was completely trashed.



Harley sat down on her knees in front of him, using the handkerchief in his pocket to clean the wound in his cheek up a little. “You need a doctor.”



“Just--”



“This cut is deep…and what if your arm is broken--”



“It isn’t broken--” He tried pushing her away, but she continued.



“But--” She reached out and touched the bleeding scar.



Grabbing her by the arms, he shook her violently. “Leave me alone!” he roared at her, finally throwing her aside. “Do you have any idea--” He pushed his hands through his hair incessantly. “Why can’t you just do what I say?!” He stalked towards her and she backed up, crawling on all fours.



“Just calm down, baby…”



“Calm? I’m perfectly calm. You completely defied me! You almost ruined everything! You--!” His voice trailed off into a furious, guttural scream. He pulled a pistol from the holster under his arm and pointed it at her. “Infuriating---”



Harley shrank back from him, knowing that she had gone too far. She had apparently overestimated her usefulness. She braced for the bullet that was surely coming.



He emptied the pistol into the wall behind her and then threw the gun, shouting and kicking bottles that were strewn around the alley. She opened her eyes just in time to see him come towards her again, grabbing her arm and jerking her to her feet. “If you weren’t so much fun…”



She smiled sheepishly. “But I did save your ass--”



“By nearly blowing me up!” he shouted in her face, accenting his words with violent shakes. She shook her head, trying to stop her eyeballs from vibrating.



“I’m sorry…I thought…”



“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?!” He shrieked in high-pitched laughter. “You’re going to be so much more sorry than this--” She cowered speechless as he backed her up against the rough brick wall. The hazy moonlight cast shadows over the strange contour of his face, making him look, if possible, more like a demon. Before she could dodge away, he had her by the throat, squeezing hard enough to leave purply fingerprints later. “I could squeeze the life out of your silly little throat right here and not have a moment’s hesitation.”



Harley gasped for breath, trying to squirm from his grasp and only succeeding in digging a jagged brick into her shoulder, making her whimper. “Then go for it…” she croaked. “Go ahead… if you can throw me away so easily.”



“Never believe that you are anything but expendable, pet,” he growled, his grip still tight. “Good fucks are a dime a dozen. You only live because I wish it--” She started to cough, his hands still tight around her throat. “There, there Harley… just a little death,” he purred, his mouth close to her ear. She could feel his breath, warm and wet, against her earlobe. A shiver ran up and down her spine and she mentally kicked herself for being so pathetic. Even as he stood here hurting her, she still wanted him. She used the last bit of energy left to inhale deeply, taking in his scent. He smelled like blood and sweat and a smoky spice. Her eyes clouded and everything started to go dark. She heard him laugh and it sounded far away. She felt him release her and push her aside. Her lungs hurt as the air flooded into them. She gasped and coughed, her vision blurred. She could see his shadow moving in the darkness. His back was to her as he looked around for the gun he’d thrown aside, laughing at the ridiculousness of not being able to find it in the dark. Suddenly, she was filled with a blind rage that cleared her senses. She stood up, ripping the jester’s cap she’d stolen off of her head, giving her a wild look as she started towards him.



“Fucking asshole!” she screamed, launching herself at him, clinging to his back. Her voice was hoarse but she managed to croak out a few more expletives. He only laughed harder as she pounded her fists against the back of his head. He shrugged her off, throwing her to the pavement and rounding on her. As she tried to get up, he attempted to kick her back to the ground, but she rolled away from him and grabbed his ankle, pulling him down to the ground. She kicked gravel in his face as she tackled him again. “I gave up everything!” she screamed, punching him in the face. She saw his blood on her hands, and it made her rage more potent. He continued to laugh wildly as she kicked and punched at him. He blocked her punches with a clumsy agility, finally grabbing her wrists and pulling her up into a standing position. He slammed her into the brick wall behind her hard enough to knock the wind from her chest. She panted as he pressed himself against her suggestively. “Let me go,” she growled breathlessly.



“Go where?” he taunted in that sing-songy voice that dripped with sadistic humor. “Where will you go, little Harlequin? Back to the old hospital? I guess they’d have a straitjacket with your name on it by now,” he growled, his large hand closing over her breast, kneading it roughly. “Dr. Quinzel.”



“I can tell them everything about you,” she whimpered, hating herself for the shivers that rolled down her chest and straight to her sex.



“But you don‘t know anything, do you?” He whispered so close to her skin that it prickled. “And if you did, do you think that any of those fools could hold me for more than a fleeting moment? Or that any of them could protect you from me?” He rubbed his cheek against hers, letting his lips caress the ridge of her cheekbone.



“I hate you,” she cried, struggling against him again as he held her tighter.



“Good,” he snarled, “I think I like you better when you’re… fighting me.” This time he kissed her roughly, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Harley tried to push him away, but the tantalizing way in which he rolled his tongue across hers, teasing her to play the game, was too intoxicating. His hands wandered down her front, hooking his fingertips under the ragged edge of the makeshift corset and tearing it open. Her nipples hardened painfully as the air licked at them. Going down on one knee, he took one in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and then biting hard enough to draw blood. Harley whimpered and he smiled, soothing the injured skin with his thumb. “And no one knows the real you like I do--”



“So arrogant,” she whispered, looking down on him. “To think that you know so much.”



“Its not arrogance if it’s the truth,” he rasped, running his scarred lips over the tender, untouched flesh of her stomach and leaving a smear of red-- maybe blood, maybe greasepaint. “I know you better than you know yourself.” As he said this, his tongue flicked across her navel, making her inhale sharply. “All one has to do is be only slightly perceptive.” He leaned back, drawing in her scent and laughing. “For instance, I can smell how much you want me. He pulled at the button on the tight leather pants, pulling them open until he could see the point of her pelvic bone.



“Want you to die slowly--” she breathed, her voice inaudible.



He smiled his arrogant smirk again, using his teeth to pull off his glove. “Not a very nice way to talk. If we get out of this… I might just have to punish you.”



“Promises, promises,” she purred as he slid his hand down her front, his frigid hand stopping just short of her sex. She found herself whimpering with want even as she tried to suppress it. “But for now… either kill me or fuck me…” she groaned, trying to pull at his clothes.



He laughed a high-pitched ‘hehehe’ as she fumbled with the shreds of his vest. “You crazy whore…” he started. “Moaning out here in the street like an alley cat in heat.”



“I’d think you’d be flattered,” she growled, finding her target and closing her fingers around his cock. “Maybe its just idle fantasies of the Batman, reaching and grabbing for me back there.”



His expression darkened and he slammed her against the wall again. “Why do you always try to infuriate me? When you know that one day I’ll kill you for it.”



“God it makes me so hot when you’re jealous,” Harley teased, squeezing his cock in a slow, steady rhythm. “Maybe one day you’ll actually fight for me.”



“Why fight for something I’ve already won,” he growled, pulling her leg over his hip and pushing into her all the way with one quick movement. She cried out at his sudden invasion, arching her back and wrapping her arms around his neck. This time he let her and slammed into her again, scrubbing her back against the jagged bricks behind them.



“Owww… fuck…” she whined, wrapping her leg around his waist and pulling him closer.



“Good… I want you to scream for me…” he rasped, tangling his fist into the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling it hard and tipping her face up to his. He closed his mouth over hers, catching her screams as he pushed into her again and again, each thrust harder than the one before. She was flattened against the wall, unable to move against him as his strokes came faster. She buried her face in his neck, resigning herself to be used as a mere vessel. The rage that they had felt before seemed to melt away in the furious heat of their fucking. This dirty alley that smelled of stagnant water and urine seemed the most appropriate place. She had a fleeting thought that she didn’t deserve any better than this. That she had degraded herself and must therefore pay the piper. But his method of payment didn’t seem all that disagreeable. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Descending to his level and letting him use her as his plaything. Pouring all of his rage into her until she couldn’t take any more.



“Let her go.” The rasping voice stopped them abruptly and Harley opened her eyes just in time to see Batman rise up behind her lover. Before he could get a chance to turn, the Batman had clocked him in the back of the head, dropping him like a stone. Harley’s eyes grew wide with disbelief and then a sob ripped through her body as the embarrassment set in. She slid down the wall, curling into a ball and trying to hide herself from the Batman. He kicked the Joker’s unconscious body aside and grabbed Harley. She had no strength left to struggle and could only comply as he tossed her over a shoulder and carried her off.