Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“She was just brought in,” Joseph hears whispered from the nurse’s station as he walks past, causing him to pause in his tracks. There were only two women the staff whispered like that about, and he hadn’t been notified of either’s arrival. 

Turning, he gives the two gossips a smile he knows has melted many a heart over the years and murmurs, “I heard someone was brought in today?”

“Oh, yes, Doctor Kerr!” the first demurs, a simpering smile spreading across her face while the other nods enthusiastically. 

“Batman dumped Harley Quinn at our doors just now!” the enthusiastic nodder tells him. Joseph keeps his face pleasant, even as his head spins like a top.

“Oh? I hadn’t heard anything on the news about her?” Joseph questions pleasantly.

“Well…” the second hedges, no longer looking like she’s going to break her neck with nodding but looking at the first as if for permission. She clearly receives whatever she’s looking for because she turns with bright eyes, ready to impart her gossip.

“Oh, do tell,” Joseph encourages, leaning his hip against the counter. “I’m never privy to the news!” He gives them an exaggerated pout and has to hide his disgust at the way they both seem to melt. 

“Well, I heard from my cousin, who works on Doctor Arkham’s floor, that Batman railed at him for several minutes!” Joseph makes his eyes wide, silently encouraging her. “Apparently, she’d been found skulking around one of our doctor’s houses! She’d just come out of the window in her full getup! Batman demanded that Doctor Arkham take security more seriously, especially for those that see the, ahhh, high-security patients.” At this, she looks at him pointedly, and he smiles sheepishly.

“I’d never thought of that! Some of us do work with Metas!” he finishes in a dramatic whisper, his eyes going wide again. He was supposed to have been home tonight but had taken a fellow doctor’s shift when he’d bemoaned missing his daughter’s graduation celebration. Had it been his place she’d been sneaking from after finding him gone, or someone else's home? Joseph has to look down to hide the rage he knows will shine through at the thought of her visiting someone else. “Was Batman able to save the poor doctor?” he asks dramatically, finally looking at them when he’s sure his anger is in check.

“That’s the weirdest part!” the nurse exclaims, leaning toward him. “Arkham asked the same question, and apparently, Batman said that no one had been home! Thank goodness for small favors, huh?” Joseph nods along with them, putting his hand to his chest as if thanking the heavens no one had been home when the infamous Harley Quinn came calling!

“Oh!” the first nurse exclaims as if just realizing a horrible fact. Her eyes go round, and her simpering smile drops from her face. But…she’s one of yours, isn’t she?”

“She is, though I doubt it was my place she was breaking into.” Joseph makes a point of looking contemplative for a moment before saying, “We haven’t had problems the last few times she’s been here, so I don’t think she’d want to murder me? She hasn’t tried to murder me during her break-outs, but you never can tell with Miss Quinn.” They both nod sympathetically, and he wants to gag. "I've never actually been here when she was brought in. Would you mind terribly if I popped down to watch her intake?"

“Doctor Frankel usually disappears to his office about now, Doctor Kerr. This floor is a good deal quieter than your usual patients, and the night shift is generally pretty easy. We’ll page you if anything happens.”

Nodding and thanking them several times, Joseph slowly walks toward the elevator he knows will take him to her level and the intake room on that floor. No need to make it look like he’s desperate to get to her. There are cameras in all the halls, after all.

By the time he rounds the last corner to her floor’s particular intake room, a vast open space he knows is dominated by tile with a drain in the center of the room, he’s taken aback for a moment by the number of bodies crowding the spacious room. They’re all in the identical hideous white jumpsuits Arkham forces the orderlies to wear, and all are practically double his size. There is no need for this many of them to handle one tiny blonde, no matter how ferocious he knows her to be. So why are they all here? 

Her scream has him violently pushing his way through the throng, desperate to get to her, practically snarling as he pushes bodies aside. Joseph stops dead in his tracks as he gets to the front of the crowd, shocked at the sight of one orderly holding Harley’s upper arms behind her back while keeping her at arm's length, the entire top half of her body nude. At the same time, another has his hand down her tight latex pants, jerkily moving about.

“I don’t feel any weapons, George, but we best delve a little deeper to make sure,” the orderly with his hand down her pants tells the other behind her. Joseph watches in horror as the man removes his questing hand only to violently pull her jumpsuit down to just below her knees so that the crowd can see her bared before them while locking her legs together in the tight fabric. His gloriously violent Harley still thrashes about, even hobbled as she is, attempting to lean forward to get at the man’s face. 

“You ready for your strip search, Harley? You haven’t gotten one from us in a while, what with being processed through Blackgate lately!” the orderly behind her crows, and that’s when Joseph’s paralysis breaks.

“What exactly is going on here?” Joseph growls authoritatively, stepping forward. The hooting and hollering around him instantly stops, as if they hadn’t realized he was in their company until now, too focused on the struggling woman before them. Harley pauses her struggling long enough to look at him, something flicking in her gaze he doesn’t fully understand, before thrashing all the harder.

“We have to strip search her for weapons, Doc. She’s been known to put them in the most…ah…delicate of places,” the orderly holding her arms tells him, a worried look flitting across his face as he struggles to keep her contained.

“We don’t need you here for this, Doctor Kerr,” the other says. When he finally turns fully away from Harley, Joseph realizes it’s the head orderly performing her ‘strip search,’ not just a random grunt.

“How many, exactly, does it take to strip search her, Mr. Smith?” Joseph makes a point of looking around him at the press of bodies, all clearly watching and not helping. Even high-level patients like Nigma or Crane were allowed the dignity of removing their own clothes, so why wasn’t Harley?

“Oh, you know how it is, doctor. They’re all here to ensure that no wrongdoing is done and that we do it by the book,” Smith tells him blithely as he turns his back on Joseph to finish taking Harley’s suit pants off. Smith often did Strange’s dirty work, but this was a step too far. Caution and rationality be damned. He would not stand here and let her be molested. What was Batman thinking, dropping her here? He watches Harley kick her legs out as soon as they’re free of the tight material, almost catching Smith in the jaw, and Joseph barely stops his smile from spreading his lips out wide.

“If you insist that she’s hiding something inside her vaginal cavity, I will not have the entire staff on hand to watch, and we can find out just as easily with an x-ray.” He tries for reasonable, he does, but there’s violence simmering inside of him, ready to burst free at any moment. “I will remind you that Strange is not her doctor, and her doctor has not authorized molestation.” 

“No molestation going on here, Doc,” Smith tells him with raised hands as he backs away from Harley, finally remembering that he’s standing before his superior and not one of the easier-to-intimidate doctors on staff. Walking forward, Joseph stops in front of the Gotham villain, snapping his fingers in her face twice to get her attention, the tension in the room palpable when he leans in further than is wise.

“Miss Quinn,” he murmurs when he finally has her attention. “Are you hiding anything in unmentionable places?”

“Will you be attempting to find out the same way?” she purrs, giving him an overly lascivious once over. When he shakes his head, he receives an exaggerated moue and huff of disappointment. “Nah, nothin’ in any of my…cavities, Doc,” Harley exclaims, leaning toward him as far as the hands restraining her will allow. “Though…if you ever feel like letting that good boy exterior who plays by the rules crack, you let me know!” Giggling madly, Harley slumps heavily in the guard’s hold, letting him fight to keep her upright. How fascinating to see her in her element, her mad mask firmly in place, covering the overly analytical mind he knows she possesses.

“Harley,” Joseph growls, leaning down to snap in her face once more.

“Doc,” is murmured behind him, but he ignores them, his whole attention on the blonde before him. She giggles an extra minute before looking at him with a feral grin.

“If I bind your hands in front of you and the orderlies don’t touch you further, will you let us finish intake as quickly as possible?” Please let her comply, he begs the universe, desperate for this to end. Harley’s head snaps around to stare at the far wall, shushing something as her eyes go glassy, listening to the voices he knows she occasionally hears. Gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger, Joseph squeezes gently, forcing her to look at him, to focus on him rather than whatever she’s seeing and hearing in her head.

“Let’s get this over with so you can tell me what happened, Miss Quinn,” he tries again, forcing her to stare at him until she silently nods. Stepping back, he nods once at the orderly holding Harley’s arms behind her, glaring until the large man lets go and rushes away. Rotating her shoulders and neck, Harley slowly stands, not caring the least little bit that she’s as naked as the day she was born. They both watch Jonny Frost, an orderly he knows has a soft spot for Harley, slowly walk forward, standard police-issue handcuffs held before him.

“As he puts those on you, Miss Quinn, I’m going to need to take your hair down and check for weapons,” Joseph tells her as he slowly walks behind her. Ignoring the orderly before her, Harley turns her head to watch his progress. She passively lets Jonny pull her arms in front of her, cuffing them together, and stands stock still while Joseph removes the ties from her space buns, letting her hair run down her back. Under the guise of searching for weapons, Joseph runs his hands through the ice-blonde locks, gently massaging her scalp and trailing his nails down to her neck. 

It had been weeks since he’d seen her last, and Joseph had become desperate for the feel of her beneath, above, and surrounding him. He can feel the micro-tremors coursing through her at his ministrations, but she stands as still as a statue, both knowing that this can’t be dragged out much longer. After one last slow drag through her thick locks, Joseph pulls a hairpin from behind her ear, making a tsking noise before stepping away, her rubber bands snapping around his wrist. By the time he gets to Jonny’s side, all but a handful of the orderlies have dispersed, George-the-arm-holder included. 

“You don’t need to be here for this, Doctor Kerr,” Jonny tells him in a hushed voice. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I have no intention of leaving this room before she does, Mister Frost,” he tells the huge man, a growl creeping into his voice. 

“You’ll only make this worse if you stay,” Jonny whispers, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on Joseph’s shoulder.

That hand turns into a restraint when Smith turns a water hose on Harley, causing her to double over when he hits her squarely in the stomach. Why was a water hose being used on a patient? Joseph doesn't even realize he's taken a step forward when Jonny grips his forearms from behind, holding him back as the head orderly hoses her down. He was going to eviscerate someone when this was over. Likely Smith. 

“This is inhumane,” Joseph snarls as he watches Harley knocked down by the concentrated spray of water, her hands covering her head as she crouches there. The massive bear of an orderly has to struggle to keep him contained, Joseph’s anger giving him additional strength as he fights to get to Harley, to Smith, to someone to stop this.

“Give me the towel,” he snarls at Jonny when Smith finally turns the water off. She’s huddled in the corner, her bound hands looped around her knees and head, her long hair hanging in front of her as she shivers violently from the cold.

“There isn’t a towel, Doc,” Jonny gently tells him, finally letting his arms go. Joseph stands there, shaking in rage, as the orderly looks at him with pity clear in his eyes. "They make her walk down the hall to her cell like that.”

“Fuck that,” Joseph snaps before stalking toward the shivering blonde villain, sidestepping the orderlies as they try to catch at his arms. Shrugging out of his coat, he places it over her hunched shoulders and pushes her heavy curtain of hair aside. There’s death in her eyes when she looks up, but seeing him, something in her gaze shifts.

“Doc?” Harley whispers, staring incredulously at him as she slowly stands, water dripping down her body and soaking through the thin white material of his coat.

“Doctor, be careful,” someone warns from behind, but he puts a hand under Harley’s elbow to help steady her when she gently sways, ignoring any potential danger. She’d had her chance to murder him multiple times. Why should he worry now?

“Let’s get you to your cell to dry off,” Joseph whispers, gently leading her by the elbow toward the door. Harley snarls and snaps at the burley orderlies that each outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds, but Joseph grips her elbow to steer her away. She giggles at their terror, and he has to work to keep her firmly in his grip as she attempts to skip along, the white coat clutched in a tiny fist.

As they walk, Joseph is so lost in thought that he doesn’t see the tall, powerfully built man until they practically run into him. When he begins to glare toward the newcomer, he’s halted mid-death glare, unsure what to make of the man in front of him. While they might be the same height, he knows the man in front of him weighs double, all of it muscle. He looks at the expensive suit and the shiny shoes and fights not to look at his well-loved pair. Harley breaks his thought process by whistling suggestively and cocking her hip. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty one!” Harley purrs.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?” Joseph hisses at his long-time friend, aghast that he’s somehow gotten into the restricted area of the Asylum and annoyed at Harley’s apparent flirtation. Joseph’s hold on Harley’s elbow tightens involuntarily as he attempts to steer her away, but his ever-recalcitrant patient stops them dead in their tracks, her heels leaving drag marks as he tries to pull her forward. 

“You’ve been dodging my calls,” Bruce Wayne tells him in his signature bored billionaire playboy voice, looking curiously at the hand holding Harley’s elbow in its grip. Harley instantly shies away at the sound of Bruce’s voice, crowding closer to him, even as her head cocks to the side as if trying to solve a complex problem.

“That’s well and good, but what are you doing down here, Bruce?” Joseph attempts to reign in his temper, not needing the orderlies, who he knows are listening down the hall, to hear anything untoward that will fuel gossip.

“The board meeting ran late, so I thought I’d come down to ‘inspect’ the facilities. You’ve been avoiding my calls and texts, Kerr, and you promised to be my wingman the next time I went out. If I must descend to the bowels of Arkham Asylum to call in that favor, so be it.” Bruce’s face is a mask of boredom as he ignores Harley, though Joseph can tell the other man is deeply irritated and on edge. Harley watches them raptly, studying their expressions in a way that makes him want to shiver.

“Oh, you should totally be his wingman! Everyone needs a sidekick!” Harley’s mask is back in place as she chirps brightly in her thickest Brooklyn drawl. As if there isn’t tension simmering between the two men. He turns a glare on the brilliantly smiling blonde, causing her smile to widen. “Maybe that lady you’ve been seein’ could join you! Oh…” she frowns as if just realizing the conundrum, “that would kinda get rid of the whole ‘wingman’ vibe, wouldn’t it?” She turns large eyes to Bruce, and when they both watch the transformation on his face from confusion to hurt to shock, Harley’s eyes widen further. Oh, but she was good.

“You’ve been…you’re…seeing someone?” Bruce asks him with incredulity. Really, just because he hadn’t dated anyone in the last several years didn’t mean he didn’t get around! Okay, it did, but Bruce didn’t know that! After a moment more of shock, Bruce’s face splits wide into a boyish grin. “I couldn’t be happier! I thought Alexis had ruined you for good. I do still need you, though. Maybe you could talk to her?”

"Oh, how terrible, Doc, you didn't tell him you were seein' a lady?" she asks with false shock. Turning conspiratorially toward Bruce, Harley stage whispers, "I heard onea the nurses call her Harleen. I was fascinated cuz, ya know, that's, like, close to my name! Harley…Harleen?" The horrid woman giggles as Bruce seems to hang on her every word, staring at her raptly, if a bit warily. Joseph tightens his hand on her elbow to painful levels, but she takes no notice. "And she's a blonde?" Again that false shock spreads across her face as she imparts her false gossip. "If I didn't know better, I'd say-"

“It’s still new, and it's not like that at all,” Joseph tries to hedge as he cuts her off. He was going to murder her; he really was. Fuck saving her from ECT treatments; he was going to give them to her!  Harley begins walking toward her cell, practically towing him along, and by extension, Bruce, as he follows them down the hall.

“I doubt she’d care about you goin' to a club, Doc,” Harley tells him brightly, as if not caring one way or the other. “All the orderlies say she’s a super chill lady!” He was going to strangle the life from her the next time he got her alone. “We talked about your frowning, Doc. You gotta stop, or it’ll become permanent!” She giggles maniacally when Bruce looks between them. Could he get one of the Maroni thugs to help in exchange for early release? They’d never pin her murder on him, and Gotham would be the better for it, wouldn’t it? His frown deepens as he realizes how bored he’d be if he murdered Harley. Bruce watches this exchange as they finish walking the distance to Harley’s cell, and Joseph can feel a tick beginning in his eye. 

“Stay here,” Joseph tells his friend as he walks Harley into her cell. He watches the villainess smile blindingly at Bruce, finger waving at him with her free hand before they pass out of sight. Joseph has to fight not to tighten the hand still holding her elbow, knowing that Bruce is watching with an eagle’s eye.

“Gonna get your hands dirty, Doc?” Harley queries as soon as they’re past the doors, clearly sensing the route his thoughts had taken as she attempts to slip from his grip. Instead of letting her go like he knows he should, Joseph uses her elbow to turn her around and slam her against the wall of her cell. His hand is around her neck and squeezing before he knows what he’s doing, and he’s turned on as her eyes go wide. The whites show all around her eyes for a moment as he continues to squeeze, and he enjoys the terror he finds there. But then that fright turns into something else, and his cock hardens further as he watches her eyes cloud with lust. Her hands slip between them to rub at the bulge in his slacks, and his hand tightens further, blocking all air from her lungs. Her hands rub him harder and faster, even as her eyes begin rolling back, her mouth opening to drag in the air he’s not allowing her. 

Releasing her and backing away so abruptly she falls to her knees, the realization of what he’s just done crashes down upon him. His friend is waiting in the hall, and he can only stare at Harley in horror. 

“Oh, don’t do that,” Harley pouts as she looks up at him, gently massaging her neck with her cuffed hands. When he continues to look at her in confusion and horror, unable to move, she smiles and licks her lips. “You’re gonna need your coat back, Doc.” She shrugs it off, letting it pool to the ground behind her as she stands and steps toward him. Her nipples are tight buds, and he can’t tell what’s water or slick running down her thighs. She puts an extra sway into her next step as she smiles madly at him, enticing the dark thing in him to come out and play.

Reaching around her, Joseph swipes the discarded coat from the floor before practically running from the room and slamming the door shut behind him, not caring how she’ll get out of the handcuffs. He’d almost strangled her in his rage, and she didn’t seem to care. Hell, she had clearly enjoyed it if her encouraging strokes had been any indication. Yes, she was accustomed to fighting the Bat-family, and that was a good deal more dangerous than anything he could do, but that was neither here nor there! He’d just attacked her!

“You okay?” Bruce asks, his eyebrows high and his head cocked to the side as if studying his reaction. Joseph stares at his friend, but all he can see are Harley’s pebbled nipples and the way her pupils had been blown wide in lust instead of fear. He hadn’t experienced this rage-filled lust in months, not since he’d taught her what pleasure was that first time. 

“I’m fucking fine. She just gets to me sometimes,” Joseph growls as he slides a hand through his hair in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts, his jacket draped over his arm to hide the tent in his slacks. “Let’s discuss that wingman gig as we walk toward safer…and saner…areas of this accursed place.” Bruce lets him lead the way, but he can feel his friend’s eyes boring into his back the entire way and worries about what the other man may see.

Chapter Text

Harley can hear the shower running as she slips through Doctor Kerr’s unlocked bedroom window and can’t believe her luck. She was still in her Arkham-issue uniform and could use a good shower! Humming quietly to herself, she’s down to her panties before she hears the voices in the living room and glares at the half-closed door. As she sneaks toward the doorway, she can see that the Doc is wearing only a pair of low-slung sweats, a giant, colorful dragon tattoo spanning his back in brilliant and clear relief. She’d known about the laughter running up the forearm and left pectoral muscle, but she’d assumed those were the only ones. How absolutely fascinating that his masochistic streak went further than the laughter! With his aversion to touch, that must have been absolute torture! When she finally tears her eyes from his gloriously muscled back, she notes who he’s talking to and is overcome with confusion. Why was he talking to a man who looked suspiciously like Batman from this distance…if she squinted just right?

Realization dawns as she remembers the conversation she’d been privy to the month before between him and Bruce Wayne, and a mischievous smile spreads across her face. Rushing to the bathroom to rinse the soot and bits of plaster from her body, she puts her hair up in a topknot and looks critically at her appearance. Adjusting her hair so little wisps fly out and curl around her face, she finds no noticeable signs of the Arkham breakout visible. Grabbing the deep purple robe she finds hanging on a hook, Harley slings it haphazardly over her shoulders. When she gets back to the door to the bedroom, J is gesticulating wildly, and a frown turns down his friend’s lips. Harley jumps silently up and down on her toes a few times to give herself a breathy just-fucked look and pinches her cheeks a few times to add color to her pale skin. 

Pleased with the effect, Harley saunters out of the bedroom, an exhausted yet thoroughly-fucked look on her face as she whines, “Joseph, you promised we were going to take a shower. What is keeping you?” She raises her palm to her face as if stifling a yawn to complete the effect and to hide a smile as both men whip their heads in her direction. “Oh!” she exclaims as if surprised by the newcomer, all wide eyes and shocked eyebrows. “I didn’t realize we had company. I’m so sorry, love,” she tells him with false sincerity as she finally reaches the two men. The Doc reflexively lifts his arm for her, and she slides into his one-armed embrace, cuddling against his bare skin as she circles his waist with one arm to rest her hand on his hip, the other sliding to the middle of his chest. She watches the shock spread across Bruce’s face at her casual touching of J before that billionaire mask descends, and he gives her a pleasant smile. 

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Harleen. Joseph has told me so much about you,” Bruce lies expertly, that smile never breaking as he keeps eye contact with her. Oh, but he was good! “You look so familiar,” Bruce tells her as if trying to puzzle out where he’d seen her before. She doubted he’d ever think of the nightly news. Not with the straight-laced Doc by her side.

“I have one of those faces,” Harley hums, giving him a look that clearly says ‘I get that comment all the time, and you're unoriginal,’ as she snuggles further into J’s warmth. Mmm, but his bare chest really was divine. She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to it in a brightly lit room before and wants to run her fingers across each of the tattoos she can see from the corner of her eyes. “Was tonight the night you were supposed to go with Brucey to the club?” Harley turns wide eyes up to J as if just remembering that conversation. He makes a noncommittal noise as his hand travels up her arm to play with the back of her neck, an odd look on his face as he stares down at her.

“I was just attempting to tell Bruce that I wasn’t able to go tonight, Harl,” he tells her as his eyes darken, that hand beginning to massage the back of her neck and the base of her skull. “That I had more important things to do.”

Trying not to moan at the way the Doc’s fingers dig into the tight muscles of her neck, Harley turns to Bruce, making an exaggerated pout as if this is an ongoing problem, and whines, “Like paperwork.” What did this man do in his free time to look like a professional NFL player, all broad chest and zero body fat? He wasn’t attractive by any means (at least not to Harley), but from a professional standpoint, he’d make a fantastic bodyguard…or vigilante. 

Joseph leans down and murmurs, “Paperwork wasn’t what I was thinking of doing,” just loud enough for Bruce to hear, causing Harley’s pulse to quicken.

“Please, Harleen, I’m desperate and begging,” Bruce pouts dramatically, throwing all the charm he thinks he has toward her. “I'll keep an eye on him, have him home by midnight, all the things.” When she doesn't give him an answer immediately, she watches his brain try to quickly formulate a new plan. Good at thinking on his feet, this one. “I only really need him at the beginning, and if you went, it could be fun. Joseph hitting on you in public as if you didn't know each other, him buying you a cocktail and flirting across a bar?”

Harley contemplates the scene, even as J's hand continues to massage her neck, making it hard for her rational brain to think. It could be fun to take Bruce Wayne to one of the bars Selina frequents, watch her reel in the biggest fish in the room, and take him for all he's worth.

Nodding, Harley bites her lip, pretending to be unsure, as she looks at the pleading face before her. “I have a place I think might be perfect,” she murmurs, turning an unsure gaze up to the Doc. 

“If you're sure, I have the perfect thing for you to wear,” Joseph bends down to whisper in her ear, causing a shiver to race up her body at the promise in his voice. How did he have anything for her to wear? She’d only been here once! Well, twice if you counted the time the B-man had caught her, but he didn’t know that, so it couldn’t count, right? Ignoring the mountain of a male in front of them, Harley looks up at the man who has begun to mean something to her, her look of heat likely matching his if the nervous throat clearing from Bruce is anything to go by. 

"I'll give you twenty minutes to get ready, seeing as you likely both need a shower," Bruce says magnanimously, giving them a once-over. "No hanky-panky!" he calls as the Doc places his hand on the small of her back and steers her toward his bedroom.

“A quickie isn't hanky-panky,” is practically growled behind her, and despite the shift in mood, she wonders what a quickie is. She must say the words out loud because suddenly she's facing him, and he's lifting her by her ass, her legs wrapping and his waist of their own volition. “I'll show you,” he promises before slamming his mouth against hers and walking them toward the bed. 

Joseph kisses a line of fire across her jaw to her neck, telling her how delectable she looks in his robe as her hands run over the smooth skin of his shoulders and back, relishing the little shudders that wrack his body at the skin-to-skin contact. She forgets that there's anyone else here as he lays her on the edge of the bed, quickly untying the robe in his desperate need to get to her, only to pause once it's pushed open and stare down at her in awe. 

“You're perfect, Harley,” he breathes. That warmth in her lower belly only he seems to create expands at the words, a flush spreading across her cheekbones. “Absolutely breathtaking,” he tells her, running his fingertips down her body. Finally reaching the apex of her thighs, J rubs tight little circles there until she's wet and writhing, desperate for what she knows is coming.

Quickly pushing his sweats down, the Doc takes only a moment to line himself up before he’s roughly slamming home, causing her to cry out at the painful stretch, her hands gripping the fabric beneath her. He leans down, covering her mouth with his as he sets a punishing pace, eating the sounds she makes. It's just this side of pain as he fucks her, and she reciprocates by digging her nails into his shoulders, giving as good as she gets. But then his hand is sliding between them, his thumb making those little circles against her clit, encouraging her body to loosen for him, and oh, how it does.

“That’s it,” he purrs between kisses, somehow going deeper as the knot at her center grows tighter and tighter. It only takes another pass of that thumb before her orgasm hits her like a freight train, and he’s shouting into her mouth as he finds his own release.

“That’s a quickie. Fast, rough, and dirty,” Joseph mumbles into her ear as he places his forehead against the bed beside her head.

“You have fifteen minutes!” Bruce yells from the other room, clearly knowing they are in no way getting ready.

“You smell of smoke, Harl,” he murmurs, running his nose down her throat. “Did you come directly from Arkham?” Unable to form words just yet, Harley lazily plays with the short hairs at the back of his neck and makes a noise of agreement. Stroking a path across his back and down his spine, Harley enjoys the way his body shudders against her at the gentle touches.

“You hafta move, Doc, if you want to go with your friend,” Harley murmurs into his hair when her mental facilities return.

“I don’t want to go. You’re the one that somehow got us into this mess,” he whines into her skin, lazily kissing his way across her clavicle to her shoulder. “Let’s stay here so I can fuck you until you smell like me instead of smoke,” he whispers, his thumb slowly circling an areola teasingly, never touching the peak.

“I want to…oh,” she moans as he pinches the tip. “I want to watch…” Harley can feel him hardening inside her overly sensitive cavity, causing her eyes to roll back and her thoughts to trail away like fluff in the wind.

“As I fuck you again? Good idea.” Joseph purrs, leaning back until he’s standing upright. Hooking his fingers into the flesh under her thighs, he pulls her toward the edge of the bed until her ass is hanging off, his hands the only thing holding her up. Harley whimpers at the slow pace he sets this time, her breath coming in short gasps when he rotates his hips. 

“Watch, Harley. Like you did the first time,” her demented doctor demands, pushing her legs to open further, giving her a clear view. 

They both watch as he slowly pulls all the way out, her core shuddering as it tries to hold him in. She whimpers when he leaves her empty, his cock glistening with her wetness as it stands proudly between them. A crooked grin spreads across his face when she makes a pathetic whining noise, her hands fisting in the deep purple comforter to stop herself from reaching for him. They're supposed to be doing something other than this, but as he finally slots that thick mushroom head at her center, the thought wisps away. 

The intimacy of them both watching as he pushes into her is almost too much. She wants to cry out for him to stop, to go faster, to do something to break this spell, but she's lost in him. In the wanting, the needing. Her toes curl as his hips finally connect with hers, a quiet moan coming from him at the connection. 

“You feel so fucking good, Harl,” he purrs, rotating his hips until he finds that spot, causing her back to arch and her eyes to roll back. Please, she silently begs as tremors start in her lower belly, and he must hear her because he hits that spot again and again, quickly losing rhythm as he stares down at their joined bodies. 

“Fuck, I can't,” he grinds out, picking up pace until he's roughly fucking her, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of her thighs. “Fuck,” he snarls, and when she looks up, his eyes have darkened to that stormy grey, his facade cracking as he erratically pumps harder. “Touch me,” he begs as he leans down, his mouth crashing against hers. His kiss is violence on the edge of madness, his desperation unmistakable as his tongue tangles with hers, his hips jutting forward. Opening her eyes, Harley watches his reaction as she digs her nails into his forearm, the other hand rubbing his pectoral muscles before sliding down to grip his hip. His eyes stay tightly closed, a line appearing on his forehead as his body trembles against her. 

“Come for me, Mistah J,” Harley whispers, wanting to watch him crack apart. He shakes his head, mumbling something about it not being right. Digging her nails into him, she repeats the command and watches him shatter like a million tiny pieces of glass, his hips slamming into her and locking there, his entire body shuddering in her hold. Watching him come apart for her, all his control and civility ripped away, has something in her sternum fluttering uncomfortably. But it's gone the next moment when he pushes his thumb against her clit, barely touching it before she's curling into him, gripping him tightly to her as she is sent over the edge into bliss, pathetic whimpers escaping. She clings to him as shudders wrack her body, prolonged by his thumb making slow circles against that pressure point. 

“It's been too long, Doll,” he breathes against her lips when she's finally still against him. Leaning back, J pulls his softening cock from her, the warmth of their juices dribbling down to her ass.  “Don't move,” he tells her as he slowly lowers her legs, stepping away. 

As if she could actually move after that! Harley languidly stretches, pleased that he'd obviously missed her while she'd been locked away. They'd put her in solitary the morning after her intake and left her there for weeks, Jonny’s hastily whispered words at meal times the only interaction with the outside world. She'd been unsure at first if it had been the Doc's doing as punishment for pushing him, but Jonny had slipped her a note written in the Doc's tight scrawl that first week, telling her he was trying to change Arkham’s mind, that he'd get her out. When she finally realized that wouldn't happen, she'd had Jonny work with her demolitions expert to get her out as noisily as possible. Clearly, Arkham had kept it quiet somehow, if Joseph’s initial shock was anything to go by. 

His hair is slicked back and his sweats firmly in place when he returns, a damp washcloth in hand. Harley lazily reaches out a hand, unsure if she’s up to the task of moving yet when he drops to his knees, nipping the inside of her thigh before pushing her legs further apart. 

“Keep your hands above your head while I clean, Harl.” His voice is gravelly as he drags the warm cloth against her thighs, slowly moving toward more intimate areas. He uses his free hand and shoulder to keep her legs spread wide, a cry escaping her as he drags the textured material across her folds and up to her still-sensitive clitoris, rubbing slow circles there under the guise of cleaning her thoroughly. 

“So responsive,” he purrs as the knot in her belly tightens. How was her body ready for more this quickly? What kind of needy creature was he turning her into? Before she can chase the thought, the textured material rubs her center once more before slipping down to her ass, wiping away all traces of their combined juices. 

“Look at this, making a mess right after I've cleaned you,” he tsks as his thumb swipes her dripping cunt, spreading the fluid all over her folds. “I suppose I have to do a better job,” is whispered against her trembling belly, the cool cloth again slowly dragging across her folds. He uses the texture to torture her oversensitive body, kissing and sucking his way up her stomach. It takes all of her willpower to keep her hands above her head when his teeth scrape the underside of her breast, the cloth rubbing up and down, not giving her the pressure he knows she needs. She's a whimpering writhing mess when he finally sucks a nipple into his mouth, his teeth gently pulling the stiff peak out as the cloth pushes down against her clit. She fists the comforter as he finally rubs tight circles where she needs it, his tongue circling her other nipple as his grip on her inner thigh tightens. 

“Please,” she begs over and over, her skin feeling too tight as he ‘cleans’ her. Slipping two fingers into her, he quickly pumps them in and out, his thumb pushing against her clit through the cloth. When he bites the underside of her breast hard enough to leave marks and pumps his fingers faster, she comes apart at the seams, her entire body trembling violently at the onslaught as little stars dance at the edge of her vision. 

“So much for the quickie,” Joseph huffs as he pulls her into a sitting position, again kneeling in front of her. Her brain is fuzzy from the third orgasm in less than twenty minutes, and she frowns at him, cocking her head at an unnatural angle as she tries to understand what he’s saying. Quickie. Why were they trying to be quick? There’s something they need to do, but she’s naked, and he has so much skin on display, the muscles in his stomach bunched as he kneels there. Leaning forward, Harley traces the laughter on his chest, fascinated by the dark ink on his pale skin.

“None of that,” he tells her sternly. Harley’s fingertips trail down his abdomen as he stands, his stomach quivering as she gently rubs a thumb across the waistband of his sweats.

“For fucks sake, you two!” Bruce calls from the other room, breaking the spell the Doc had somehow cast. Craning her neck up and up and up, she catches his eyes and smiles broadly, wondering if the Cat of Gotham will bag the billionaire. Joseph steps back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ll go…get that dress.”

The Doc is only gone moments before he’s back, a tiny slinky number draped over an arm and a pair of gloriously deadly-looking heels hanging from his fingers. When he holds it up, Harley pulls her lower lip between her teeth, unsure she’s ever worn something this revealing. Yes, she may wear a latex bodysuit that left very little to the imagination, but at least her bits and bobs were covered from her neck to her wrists and toes! 

Standing, she stretches once more before slowly walking toward the Doc, enjoying how his eyes follow her swaying hips. She fingers the slinky number and traces the gorgeous gold and black diamond pattern, enjoying that he’d found something in her pattern. Silently taking the hanger from him, Harley saunters to the bathroom, the heat of his gaze following her the entire way. She finds a small bag of makeup on the counter, along with a piece of fabric she thinks might be considered underwear, though she’s not sure it deserves that name. Quickly tidying herself up and putting on just enough makeup to not look like a ghost, Harley slips the dress on and whimpers at the amount of skin showing. How was she supposed to move in this thing?

“This is barely a scrap of fabric!” Harley complains when she gets back into the room. She fingers the thin material of the dress that exposes her back practically to the crack of her ass and has a deep v-neck that screams touch my breasts. “And the underwear! This isn’t even a thong!” she moans indignantly, trying to pull the thin string out of her ass. It barely covers anything down below, but when she looks up, the way Joseph is gazing at her is worth the discomfort. 

“Fuck,” Joseph groans, readjusting his dark wash jeans as she walks toward him. “It’s called a g-string,” he tells her, helping her balance as she slips into the heels she’s sure will be the death of her. She liked heals; she did, but the ones he kneels down and straps to her feet are high and thin.

“No more hanky-panky! You’ve reached your limit!” Bruce yells from the other room as if sensing how Joseph had begun to slip his fingers beneath the hem of the dress, a dark gleam in his eyes as he stares up at her. Ignoring Bruce’s yell, Harley pulls him up by the lapels of his sports coat and kisses him languorously.

“Kerr!” Bruce yells from the other room in apparent frustration.

“Coming!” Doctor Kerr hollers back, stepping away from Harley and readjusting his pants around the prominent bulge.

Bruce hustles them from the flat, knowing they’re likely to continue their vigorous reunion if left alone. Bruce’s eyebrows reach toward his hairline when Harley provides the address to the Iceberg, and she tries to think fast with her lust-clouded brain. 

“A friend of mine frequents it and said it’s an absolutely lovely time. Is it not a good place to visit?” she asks, all wide eyes and innocence as they stop between two deliciously fast cars parked side by side, one a vibrant purple, the other black as night. 

“I’ve heard some things but haven’t been there,” Bruce tells her, trying to hide his discomfort at whatever he knows of the club.

“You should never judge a place until you’ve been there yourself,” Harley tells him with a disappointed look and a shake of her head as the Doc leads her to the passenger side of the sleek purple McLaren Artura. He was entirely correct in his judgment of the place, but it was all under the surface, so how would he know about it? “We’ll meet you there,” Harley tells him, and the Doc slides the passenger door up for her to enter.

“You do know his Ferrari goes faster than yours, right?” Harley murmurs as she strokes the leather of the seats in his McLaren, not caring a wit 

“By less than a second, but mine has fancier doors.” The Doc’s smile is that of a small boy proud of his toys, and she can’t argue, really. As she runs her hands over the sleek black leather interior, she wonders how he could afford a car like this on Arkham’s salary, especially with the modifications she can see. What would it feel like to be fucked in a car like this, going at breakneck speeds down the streets of Gotham?

“Whatever is in that head of yours, I’m sure we can accommodate it,” he tells her with a wolfish grin as he slides his palm up her thigh, speeding to pull ahead of Bruce on a tight turn. Harley’s cheeks heat at the thought of the adrenaline coursing through her system as his cock pumps in and out, barely making turn after turn through Gotham’s windiest streets, Batman close behind. Before he can get his hand much further, they arrive at the club just ahead of his friend.

Doctor Kerr keeps his hand on her lower back as they enter, making it clear to those around them that she’s his. She has to bite her lip to hide her smile. Staking a claim in front of some of Gotham’s most feared of the underworld without even knowing it - how daring and delicious! 

“Have fun, boys!” Harley chirps as soon as she spies Selina at the bar, letting the men play their games.

“The fuck are you wearing?” Selina Kyle has to lean in to be heard, practically yelling above the beat of the music. “And is there a bra under that thing?!” she squawks as Harley leans in, the dress slipping forward enough to show her friend that there is not.

“I thought I’d try something new?” Harley tries as she sits back with a hand to her chest, knowing she’s not being convincing at all and not overly caring. She can feel Joseph’s eyes on her back, making her shiver, and she turns to look at him over her shoulder. He signals the bartender, and moments later, a colorful cocktail is placed in front of her. She turns to Joseph and tips her head, a small smile playing across her bright red lips. He salutes her with his scotch, his own grin spreading across his lips.

“Since when do you…look at men? And take drinks from them?” Selina gawks, her mask slipping further.

“I don’t!” Harley hotly protests, fiddling with a strand of hair, the brightly colored drink giving her away as a liar. Selina raises an eyebrow at the blatant lie and the fidgeting, causing Harley’s face to burn.

“You’re blushing. And isn’t that the doctor from Arkham?!” Harley can see how badly Selina wants to shake her, but both know how deadly that move would be, so the other woman keeps herself in check. 

“He’s…different,” Harley tries, unsure how to explain the darkness she constantly sees straining to get to the surface. That mild-mannered exterior had cracked a few times now, and oh, how glorious it was each time, but he wasn’t quite there yet. “How do I get him to want…more?” Harley asks her friend, a frown marring her features as she sips at the fruity drink.

“Oh, Harl,” Selina says, patting her knee gently. That wasn’t an answer, though! She needed the other woman’s expertise on making a man want more, not her condescension! “Honey, I’m not trying to be cruel, but other than sex, there’s not much you can do.”

“But I’ve done that!” Harley whines, jutting her lower lip forward in an exaggerated pout, causing shock to spread over the other woman’s face.

“What do you mean…you’ve done that, Harley? Are you not a…virgin…anymore?” Selina practically whispers the word as if it’s a dirty thing, and Harley nibbles her lip. “Holy fuck me, you’re not!” Selina claps excitedly, entirely out of character for the usually-stoic woman. "Does Red know?" Harley's face flushes further, causing the thief to gasp, her mouth practically hanging open momentarily. “We're going to put that on the back burner because his eyes are practically devouring you, Harl. I think you need to go to the bathroom, honey.” Harley cocks her head, confused at the sudden shift in topic. She didn’t need to go pee? She’d just gotten here. Why would she need to go pee? And wasn’t Selina supposed to help her get the Doc to want more? “Trust me, Harley, and go to the bathroom on the second floor.” Harley scrunches her brow at her friend, thoroughly confounded but willing to play along.

Before she can get very far into the dark hallway where the lesser-used second-floor bathroom is located, the Doc is violently turning her around and pushing her against the grimy wall. Without saying anything, he pushes one cup of her dress aside to palm her breast as he nips at her chin, the lights occasionally bouncing off their dark corner. 

“Tell me, Harley, were the orderlies right that you hide items up your cunt?” Joseph purrs against her jaw as he slowly pushes her g-string to the side, his fingers rubbing her slit.

“You hafta…you hafta delve a little…deeper…ta find out,” she pants, canting her hips toward him. As he pushes two fingers slowly into her, she cries out, headless of the people outside their little hallway. “De-de-deeper,” she moans, her hips rocking into him as she grabs his upper arms for stability.

Taking a stern hold of her chin, he forces her to look at him, that almost cruel smile firmly in place. The wicked thing within the Doc murmurs, “Ask me nicely,” as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of her, never delving deeper than his second knuckle, never giving her the friction or speed she’s desperate for. She watches raptly as he leans his head down and sucks her nipple, scraping his teeth along the sensitive bud. 

“Please,” Harley moans when he pulls the bud out with his teeth, her entire body bowing against him. He finally gives her what she wants, pushing his fingers in to stroke at her g-spot until she’s at the precipice, about to tumble over the edge. But then his fingers are gone, and she’s left with a painful ache in her core. She cries out indignantly, snarling when he steps away. She rubs her thighs together, desperate for friction, and he just smiles vindictively down at her.

“If you come before I get you home, I will be highly disappointed,” Joseph tells her as he sets her dress to rights and saunters away, a cocky smile playing across his lips. Harley runs a hand through her loose curls as she leans against the disgusting wall, desperately trying to breathe.

She’d learned she could get off with just her fingers, but it was never the same as when he did it. And what did it mean to have Doctor Joseph Kerr disappointed? Was there some form of retaliation involved? And why did she suddenly care what he thought, anyway? Huffing, she slams the bathroom door shut behind her and tries to touch as few things in that room as possible. She might routinely live in condemned buildings or warehouses, but even those were better than this!

When she returns to Selina, she finds her seat taken by Bruce, their heads bent toward each other, and a smile on Selina’s lips. She shakes her head ruefully. Of course, the master thief would reel in the biggest fish as soon as the seat was vacated. 

Turning in a slow circle to locate Joseph, Harley finds him on the other side of the bar, his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched as a large-breasted black-haired woman talks to him. Harley stands there for an additional moment, watching the interaction and noting how the Doc flinches at the other woman’s touch and how she tries to push her enormous chest, barely contained by the tight leather dress, into his view. Really, there is no world where that woman is wearing underwear with the way you can see every line of her body (of which there aren't any).

Putting her hand on Bruce's arm, Harley momentarily pauses his conversation with Selina to ask, "Who is that?" Looking in Joseph's direction, Bruce begins to get out of his seat, an alarmed expression on his face, but Harley grips his bicep, keeping him in place. "Oh, I'll take care of it," she tells him, violence shining in her eyes. He stares at her for a long moment before nodding once to wish her luck, and Harley saunters toward J, putting an extra swing in her step.

“Take me home,” Harley tells the Doc as she slides up to him, ensuring the other woman can hear her loud and clear. Putting her palm on his chest, Harley makes sure the leggy triple-D can see how he doesn’t flinch from her. The other woman looks taken aback, and Harley gives her a predatory smile as Joseph’s arm circles her waist, pulling her closer.

“Anything you want, Doll.” The smile he gives her is full of promise as he ignores the other woman in favor of turning Harley around and walking with her toward the door.

Chapter Text

Joseph is silent on the drive back to his place, taking turns at breakneck speeds as he contemplates how he’d been thrown for a loop when he’d seen Alexis in the club. When she’d walked up to him and started telling him how badly she’d fucked up and missed him, his emotions had careened between disbelief, joy, and disgust. Why now? She hadn’t paid attention to his body language as it became increasingly closed off, only interested in explaining how desperately she ‘wanted’ him. Shouldn’t Alexis have paid attention to that if she’d truly wanted him back? Harley had always noticed it. Her odd head tilts, and the way her eyes followed him even when her head didn’t move broadcast that. 

Just when he’d been willing the floor to eat him alive, unsure how to extricate himself from the situation, Harley had appeared to save the day. Who would have thought one of the worst villains in Gotham would be his savior? By the time he gets them parked and into his flat, he’s running on muscle memory rather than paying attention to anything around them. 

“I’d kill for a shower,” Harley tells him, brushing his arm with hers as she walks past him into his home, and it finally breaks Alexis’s hold on him.

“Murder won’t be necessary, Doll,” he purrs as he follows her to the bathroom, watching the way the tiny dress sways, barely covering her ass with each step. When she goes to slide one of the thin straps from her shoulder, his hand is instantly there. “Let me,” he tells her reflection as they both look in the mirror above his sink. He takes his time tracing the straps of her dress across her shoulders and down her back, his fingertips slipping just past that dip to palm her asscheeks before moving back up to slide a strap down her arm, freeing one of her pert breasts. 

“Look at these,” he tells her, his thumb rubbing her already pebbled nipple. “So hard and ready for me.” She watches as he pushes the other strap down, baring her from the waist up, his hand on her lower belly the only thing keeping the dress from falling the rest of the way. Joseph moans at the sight of the dark purple bruise forming on the underside of her breast where he’d left his mark earlier in the evening, other lighter smudges peppering her abdomen. She shifts in impatience as he strokes a hand down her arm, and he lets a sliver of the dark thing in him spread across his face. 

“Stay still, Harl, or I’ll go slower,” he promises as he pushes her dress off her hips, running his fingers across the waistband of her underwear. When she goes to step out of the dress, his hand is around her throat before he knows what he’s doing, squeezing until she stills, her eyes wide and her breaths coming in short pants. “Good girl for listing to Doctor,” he whispers against her ear when she doesn’t move again, rewarding her with a slow swipe of fingers along the drenched center of her g-string. He can see the internal battle raging as she fights to stay still as instructed rather than rotate her hips as would be natural. He praises her again as he pushes past the flimsy material to insert two fingers into her dripping cunt, the color staining her cheeks and spreading down her chest. 

“Look at how exquisite you are, Harley,” he tells her reverently, meaning it with his whole being. Every part of her was perfection. From her fiery attitude to her desperation for praise to the numerous battle scars littering her body. She watches him through the mirror with hooded eyes as he inserts a third finger, whimpering when he tightens the hand around her throat incrementally. “How are you this tight already, Doll?” he asks as he spreads his fingers out inside of her, trying to loosen her up. He’d fucked her only a couple hours ago, and she was already back to her vice-like state. How was that even possible? He lets go of her throat in favor of palming one of her perky breasts, his thumb making lazy circles around the areola. “That’s it,” he tells her as her inner walls flutter around him, her body vibrating from the need to move. Just before her orgasm can hit her, he removes his hands and steps back, severing all contact with her. 

“Why’d ya stop,” Harley whines as she turns, pinning him with an accusatory glare. She clenches her legs together and shifts uncomfortably, her breathing ragged.

“Look at you,” he purrs without answering her question as he steps into her, causing that delectable ass to press into the counter. “You are dripping.” Reaching down to cup her sex, Joseph uses the heel of his palm to rub her clit, never letting her fall over that precipice into pleasure. Harley whimpers, desperate for release as he keeps her from tumbling over the ledge, but he has no intention of letting her orgasm just yet. “Touch me, Harley Quinn,” he demands as he pulls her from the brink again.

Harley’s eyes darken as she snarls and grips his shirt, pulling hard enough that he can hear the buttons pinging across the tile. He’d liked that shirt, but the way she grows wetter at the violence has a smile spreading his lips out wide as he shrugs it off. Lifting her to the edge of the sink, Joseph ravages her mouth, spreading her lipstick across both their lips. Harley grinds herself against him as she crosses her ankles behind his ass, the stilettos digging into the flesh there in retaliation for his slow pace.

He groans into her mouth at the touch of pain and fists his hand in her hair, pulling her head back sharply. She moans at the pain, and that dark part of him slithers out at the noise. Quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his slacks open as much as she can in this position, Harley fists his cock with a delicious amount of pressure as he slips his fingers back into her, moving them lazily in and out. They both stare down at her hand rhythmically pumping his shaft as he’d shown her he liked, the other tracing the laughter across his chest, and he can feel pressure building at the base of his spine at the sight. When his balls grow tight, Joseph lifts her from the sink ledge and takes several steps away, not ready to finish just yet. Harley’s legs press together as she watches him toe his shoes off and slide his pants down.

“Like what you see, Doll?” he asks, running a hand down his abdomen and fisting his cock. She makes no answer but bites her lip and presses her legs tighter together, letting him know how much she wants him. As if her body wasn’t already telegraphing that loud and clear with her tight nipples and slick-coated thighs.

“Get into the shower, Harley,” Joseph purrs, opening the stall door for her and turning on the water.

“These shoes have too many stupid buckles,” she bemoans as she tries to slip them easily off. He gives her a wolfish grin as he kneels before her and undoes the thin straps. 

Harley keeps her hands on his bare shoulders to steady herself, stepping out of one and then the other shoe as he undoes them for her. Instead of letting her go so she can get into the shower, Joseph uses her hips to pull her to him. He gently kisses either side of her underwear before slowly pulling the drenched material down and sliding his fingers through her dripping pussy once more. The sight of her so on edge does things to him, and so he brings her back to that precipice with just his fingers, his other hand steadying her when she sways into him. When he has her slick coating his fingers, he stands and separates himself from her yet again, licking her delectable juices from his fingers. Smacking her ass as she walks past him, Harley squeaks, hurrying into the heavy spray, her body immediately engulfed by steam.

When he steps into the shower, Joseph’s brain momentarily stalls at the sight of her standing under the water with her eyes tightly shut, running her fingers through her hair, and moaning. Closing the shower door tightly behind him, he watches her a moment more before squeezing a healthy-sized amount of shampoo into his palm and ordering her to turn around. She immediately obeys, and he has to wonder where this easy acquiescence has come from. Choosing not to look the gift horse in the mouth, he lathers the soap in her hair and massages her scalp, scratching gently. When she moans for him, Joseph pushes his rigid cock against the small of her back to let her feel what those noises do to him. Pulling the hose off the hook so there’s no need for either of them to move, he rinses her hair free of any soap before flicking the little switch with his thumb, letting the hard spray massage her scalp further. 

“What are you doing to me?” he whispers in her ear, desperate for the answer. That side of him that he’d been able to lock in its box for so many years was beginning to break free, and he’s no longer sure he wants to put it back. Using his free hand to lower the water temperature before splaying his fingers across her lower belly, Joseph pushes his cock into the tight space between her closed legs. The minx shakes her head, and he’s unsure if she doesn’t know or is just unwilling to tell him. Pulling her flush against him, Joseph brings the hose around and points it at her clit, letting the concentrated spray hit her right where she’s most sensitive.

“Oh!” Harley cries out, her entire body shaking as the strong spray hits that sensitive little nub, and he can count another of her firsts in his favor. He keeps her pressed to him with the hand on her belly, even as she tries to rise to her toes to escape the stream. He changes the direction of the spray to hit just above her clitorus, giving her a mild reprieve before moving it back to her clit.

“Come for me, Doll,” Joseph tells her, but she shakes her head, whimpering at the onslaught of directed pleasure, her entire body vibrating violently. He can feel her knees buckle beneath her as he keeps the stream pointed directly at her bud, his hold on her the only thing keeping her upright. Nipping at her ear, he repeats the command more firmly, and this time, her body goes ramrod straight as she screams out incoherently. He keeps the water there long enough to cause a mewling sound to escape her and her nails to dig into his forearm as she tries to pull him away. When he flicks the shower head back to the regular spray and puts it in place, she sags against him. He takes the opportunity to push her against the wall, keeping her there with his hips pressed to her as she comes down from the high of her orgasm.

“Even with your cunt nice and drenched after that, Harl, this may hurt,” he warns as he positions his cock at her opening. She whimpers as he pushes slowly in, all of the excess lubrication that would usually be pooled there washed away in the stream of water. He moans at the feel of her tight heat gripping him, making him work to bottom out. He goes slowly, letting her body warm up to the intrusion as he nibbles at her shoulders and neck, sliding his hands up to knead her breasts. Fuck, she felt amazing like this. Her body clenching and releasing around his cock almost has him cuming like an inexperienced youth as his hips finally rest against her ass. Putting his head on her shoulder, Joseph breathes slowly in a bid for control over his body and listens to her little whimpers as her body adjusts to him. 

“Just like that,” he breathes into her shoulder when her inner walls begin to unclench. “Just like that,” he repeats as he slowly pulls most of the way out before violently ramming home, her cry ringing through the room. His hand slides into her wet hair, and he tightens his fist, pulling her head back and to the side so he can ravage her mouth. She constantly tasted like cotton candy and sin, and he moans into her mouth at the taste. 

Needing to fill her in every hole she has and take yet another first, Joseph slowly circles a finger around her tight anus, murmuring against her lips that he’d like to fuck her here at some point. She whimpers unintelligibly, and he can only imagine how tight she’ll be. He tells how he’ll enjoy invading that last barrier she has, how he’ll enjoy ruining her in every way, and how she’ll agree to it all. That dark thing in him enjoys the slight noise of pain and the way her body shakes as he pushes a finger up to the first knuckle into her ass. He leans back to watch the way her forehead creases in pain, the way her small chest quickly rises and falls with her panting. Oh, how he enjoys pushing her past her limits to take her to new heights of pleasure mixed with just enough pain.

Harley shakes her head as he pushes further, his other hand going around her body to stroke her clit. He needs her to feel pleasure at the pain he elicits, and when the walls of her cunt tighten around him, he tells her to come for him, to let go. As soon as his tongue tangles with hers, she shatters, crying out his name, and he shoves the finger all the way into her asshole, pumping it back and forth. Her knees practically buckle at the combination of pain and pleasure, and he removes his finger from her ass only when she begins to come down from her high. She leans her forehead against the wall as he starts moving his hips again, not giving her any respite.

“Please,” Harley begs prettily for him, “I need…more.” Slipping from her, Joseph turns them both around, finally letting her face him as he somehow knows she needs. Lifting her up easily by her ass, he has her hold onto the top of the shower doors for leverage, her legs crossing around his hips as he slides easily back into her. The feel of her cunt welcoming him in, as if desperate for him, has him moaning, his fingers digging into her ass.

“More,” Joseph begs as Harley strokes her hands down his chest and across his shoulders, leaving tingling sensations in her wake. With anyone else, it would be pure pain, but with her, it was somehow different. His body seemed to crave it when she wasn’t around, and he begs her again as he sets a punishing pace. Her fingers slide into his hair as her other hand grips his bicep hard enough to leave indentations, his hips slamming home again and again and again.

“So good, Harley, you’re so fucking good,” he praises as he moves one of his hands to rest against her neck, and he has the pleasure of watching her eyes grow wide. She bites her lip as his hand slowly tightens, giving her enough time to tell him ‘no’ should she want. When her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she whimpers, “Joker,” that secret nickname she’d come up with for him, he tightens his hand hard enough to bruise, cutting off all oxygen. He pounds into her as her eyes flutter closed, only loosening his grip when her inner walls flutter, and her legs start loosening around him. She gasps, and before she can get a full breath down, his lips are against hers, stealing her breath as his tongue invades her mouth. 

“J,” Harley moans against him when she finally has enough air in her lungs, and he looks down at her, watching that delectable chest rise and fall with each of his thrusts. He shifts position incrementally, and a keening cry escapes when he hits her g-spot, the back of her head slamming against the doors, her eyes screwing shut.

“One more, Harl,” he purrs as he pumps into her wet heat. So close, he’s so close, but he needed to watch her come apart one last time.

“Please, Mistah J, please,” Harley moans, causing him to recite chemical formulas in his head to prevent himself from orgasming. Fuck, but she begged prettily. “I can’t,” she wails as her nails dig into his bicep.

“You can,” he demands of her as he pulls the shower head off the hook again, flicking the sprayer to the right setting and placing it at her clit. Harley cries out for Joker as she shatters one last time, her entire body shaking with the force of this orgasm, her cunt tightening around him. “Harley,” Joseph moans as his body follows hers into the abyss, his hips stilling against her. Everything in him goes silent as he lets the hose drop from his hand, her body shuddering against him. He can feel something inside of him cracking, taking form, and spreading its wings, altering something integral in his soul. She seemed to be doing something to him, and he's unsure how to feel about it, how to deal with it.

“Put your legs down, Doll,” he whispers when he finally comes back to himself, but she shakes her head, resolutely keeping her eyes shut. “You’ve had a long day,” he whispers against her temple before pulling back and running a thumb across her brows, causing her eyes to slowly open. “Let’s get you washed up,” Joseph whispers, though he makes no move to let her go, continuing to trace the contours of her face. How had the infamous Harley Quinn gotten this far under his skin, enough so that even his darker side purrs around her? She stares right back, barely blinking, as she blindly traces the laughter across his chest. 

“Why is it like this?” Harley murmurs, tracing his jaw as a slight furrow appears between her almost invisible eyebrows. 

“Because I didn’t shave before we left?” Joseph quips, purposefully misinterpreting the words. Oh, how he enjoys pushing her buttons and making her work for her information. If she wanted that answer from him, she’d have to ask it. Harley shakes her head, a frown turning down those lush lips as she stares at something over his shoulder. Her eyes go vacant as she listens to whatever it is only she can hear, her frown deepening. 

“The voices can’t help you with this,” Joseph growls, disliking it when she goes distant like this. He’s constantly worried he’ll lose her to them like he almost did after her electroshock treatment. When she looks at him with clear eyes, he smiles wickedly before running his nose across her jaw to nip at her ear. “I don’t know why it’s like this,” he tells her honestly. 

Harley cries out as he slips his softening cock from her depths, her eyes rolling back in an aftershock as his cum drips from her. He did that to her. He was the one to give her pleasure, to teach her the heights her body could go outside of a torture room. He was the one able to keep her in the moment and bring her back from the depths of her thoughts. She looks at him, and his body begins to respond in a way it shouldn’t be able to. He’d never been this randy of a teenager, so how was his body constantly ready for the next round with her? More never seemed to be enough. Harley looks down the small sliver of space between them, and her darkening gaze only makes him harder. 

“No,” Joseph growls, even as his cock stands at attention between them. While his body may think they could go yet again, he knows they both need sustenance and rest. Hell, she’d just broken out of Arkham Asylum to go clubbing and then have multiple rounds of sex. There is no way her body is really up for more, even if she is riding high on endorphins, and sure she can do it. Placing his hands on her waist, Joseph pushes her against the wall as he steps away, forcing her to let him go. 

The dark thing in him claws at its cage, trying to force him back to her so he can bury himself in her willing body. It snarls and snaps as he takes another step back, and it takes all of his willpower to reach for the shower hose, flicking it to the regular setting before placing it back on its hook and reaching for the bar of soap. He makes quick work of cleaning his body, doing his best not to watch her and think of her soapy hands sliding up and down his cock. God damn it! Joseph closes his eyes as he steps under the water, trying to clear his mind to no avail, his cock only growing harder at the intrusive thoughts. When he finally opens his eyes, she’s just standing there, staring at him with a lost expression. 

“Come here, Doll,” he tells Harley sternly, reaching a hand out to encourage her to join him in the water. She hesitantly steps toward him, and as soon as she’s within grabbing distance, he slides his hand around the back of her neck to drag her the rest of the way. He brings his mouth to hers, reverently kissing her. She tastes like dreams, promises, and bad decisions, with a hit of the ever-present cotton candy to make it all the sweeter, and may the heavens forgive him, but he wants all of it. But he keeps the kiss gentle and light, needing her to feel how much he still wants her, even if he is exhausted. He sometimes forgets how very inexperienced she is with all of this. She’d learned so much in such a short amount of time, but she’d barely dipped her toe into the world of pleasure, and it made sense that she would get insecure if he pulled back at all. He draws small circles into her hip with his other hand as he slowly tangles his tongue with hers. So very different from their usual desperation and manic energy, he keeps a small sliver of space between their bodies so he doesn’t take this any further. If she melted into him now, he’s not sure he could stop himself.

“Finish your shower, Harl, and I’ll have food ready when you’re done,” he breathes against her lips after another moment, turning her so she’s under the spray. He wants to whimper at the loss of her against his skin but roughly dries himself off before grabbing a clean pair of sweats and depositing their dirty clothes into his hamper. By the time he hears the shower cut off and his bathroom door open, Joseph has a small tray of fruits and nuts laid out in the middle of his bed next to a clean pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt. When she steps naked from the steam billowing from the bathroom, using a towel to dry her hair, his good intentions go out the window. Her skin is still dewy, and her nipples are pebbled from the cooler bedroom air as she walks toward him, oblivious to his thoughts. 

“Harley,” he purrs, causing her head to snap up, her eyes hooding over at his tone. 

“I want this more often,” Harley murmurs when she reaches him. She gently kisses the bare side of his chest as she traces the laughter spreading across his left pectoral, causing a tingling sensation to permeate his system. He buries his nose in her hair, enjoying the fresh smell of his shampoo mixing with her sugary scent.

“Quit villainy,” he tries, stroking his fingers across her hips. He knows it’ll never happen, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Join in the villainy,” she counters as she nips at his clavicle, causing him to snort. Really, what would he do? Stand in the background and look menacing? He was great with chemistry and had double majored in it for his undergrad, but that would be no help to her in a battle against Batman. She must feel his incredulity because her hands slide up to his neck, and she looks up at him with such intensity he wants to shrink back.

“You…have this darkness insida you.” Harley stares at him intently, a slight frown line appearing between her brows. “But it only seeps out of the cracks occasionally. As if you’ve learned to hide it.” 

Joseph frowns at her, but he can feel that thing inside him preening as it raises its head at her words. It had been stirring more and more since he’d started this thing with her. Since he’d finally let go for a moment. But that thing churning in the depths was more dangerous than Harley could possibly realize, especially after being locked away for so long. There would be no way to contain it once it was let loose. 

“He will never be allowed out like that,” Joseph all but snarls as he works to contain the dark thing within himself, both of them grappling for dominance. He pushes her aside, but before he can do more than take a step away from her, Harley’s hands are on his upper arms, locking him in place. He doesn’t want to hurt her and so stays still, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Harley,” he growls in warning, but she’s stronger than her tiny frame should be, and she keeps hold even as he tries to shrug her off.

"Let him out," she whispers before nipping his shoulder. "You could be so glorious if you just let go," Harley murmurs into the back of his neck, her hands sliding down his arms. 

“I will never let him out, Harley. I've worked too hard for what I have to throw it all away. He would shred that life into tiny pieces if given reign." Joseph sighs heavily, unsure how to phrase his next words to take the sting from them. How had they come to this after an evening of pleasure? An evening that seemed to tilt everything on its axis? But maybe it had tilted too far to the side, and that’s why they were now here?

Turning to face the woman who has so destroyed him, he takes her face in his hands and gently kisses her. No matter how much he might want her or crave her when she wasn’t with him, this has to be goodbye. For his sanity and hers, this can't go on, and so he pours his longing for a different world into this kiss.

"You are tangled up in me, Doll, and I want you with every piece of me. But I can't," he whispers against her lips, pressing his forehead to hers. “I won’t be what you want, Harley, and it’s time to end this.” Joseph lets his fingers tangle in her hair a moment more before separating from her and quickly stepping away. The other howls at the move, knowing this is the last time, and he can feel the bars of its cage rattle his soul. He walks toward the bathroom and stops in the doorway, facing away from the bed and the woman who has claimed his soul. “You know what pleasure is now. What your body craves. There is a villain out there that can take care of those needs, but I won’t be him.” Without giving her time to respond, he slips into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, listening to what sounds like the tray of food shattering against a wall, followed by a noise that could be his bedside lamp hitting the wall. 

Joseph crashes to his knees, his hands fisting in his hair as he works to keep control. His entire being needs her, but he knows there will be no going back if he goes out there. He’ll give in to a wild and terrifying way of life, and he’s not prepared for that. He can’t go out there. The other slams bodily against its cage, desperate to take back what Joseph has just done and get back to Harley. He would put this thing back in its box where it had resided for most of their lives. He would take control. Breathing heavily, his entire body shakes as he fights with everything in him to keep control. He can hear Harley scream incoherently in the other room, the sounds she makes matching those of the creature in his soul as more items crash about. 

When all is still and quiet in his soul, as well as the room beyond, Joseph gets shakily to his feet and opens the door. His entire body is covered in sweat from the internal battle as he pants and leans into the door frame to stay upright. Suddenly, there’s rage as he's never felt boiling up inside him, dimming his vision at the edges. His first is pounding into the wall hard enough to dent the flimsy plaster without telling it to do so as he lets the rage pour out of him. Again and again, he slams his fist into the wall, the dent becoming larger and deeper with each punch.

“Fuck!” he screams into the empty void his apartment has become, smashing his now bruised and bloody fist against the wall one last time, finally breaking through the plaster.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

What had he just done?

Chapter Text

“Ma’am, he’s in meetings all day,” Bruce hears his harried assistant grumble through the partially open door, piquing his interest. He didn’t have any appointments for the hour due to that same assistant demanding he take time for lunch every day, even if he secretly did work during that hour most days. Really, she was as bad as Alfred! He doesn’t hear the reply, but he can tell from the tone of voice that it’s a woman. Quickly pulling up the security footage that faces his office door, a leggy blonde stands before Beatrice’s desk, her hair smartly pulled back in a French twist, and a sedate black pencil dress covering her from neck to knee. The Louboutin stilettos were the only daring thing about the ensemble, and boy, did she pull them off. 

All of that looked normal enough from the back, so what was making his assistant edgy enough that he could hear her from in here? Pulling up the other security footage that only he and Lucius Fox had access to, Bruce can see more from the hidden camera on the back of Bea’s computer monitor, giving him a perfect view of who was here to see him. From this vantage point, she still looks normal enough with her large round glasses perched on her nose, simple makeup, and little pearl studs in each ear. Raising an eyebrow, he watches the blonde’s brow scrunch as she tries to keep her cool, and Bruce almost wants to laugh at the frustration leaking through her control. 

Calling his poor, harried assistant, he murmurs into the receiver, “Beatrice, let her in,” when she finally deigns to answer. 

“Sir, are you sure?” Bea asks in an almost querulous tone. A bee had clearly gotten under her bonnet, and he’s fairly certain that bee would be the leggy blonde trying to gain entrance. 

“And cancel my next meeting,” he murmurs.

“But…Sir, it’s with Mr. Fox, and you know how hard it is to get the two of you together!” Bea erupts.

“I’ll make it up to him, I promise,” Bruce tells her placatingly as he tries to scrub the rueful smile from his face. “And I’ll make sure he’s aware that it was all my fault.” Really, the crush Beatrice had on Lucius made no sense to him, but to each their own.

“You most certainly will,” she tells him sternly. He can hear Bea tell Harley that Mr. Wayne will see her now and has just enough time to hit the record button on his office cameras and minimize the screen before Harley walks sedately in. Bruce stands and puts his hands casually in his pockets, looking the part of bored billionaire playboy being made to work in an office. 

"Please, close the door and sit," he tells her when she stands just inside the door without moving. He motions to the little sitting area in the corner of the office that he only really used with Lucius. A much less formal setting than him behind the desk with her on the other side…even if that would be safer. Harley sits with her hands folded demurely in her lap, her fingers clearly clasping each other to ensure she doesn't fidget. 

"What can I do for you today, Miss Quinn?" Bruce asks, unwilling to entertain the charade of Harleen today. 

"I'm sorry? While my name is close enough to hers, it's Harleen, Bruce. You know that," she demurs, trying for a less condescending smile than he knows she wishes she were using.  

"I know perfectly well who you are, Miss Quinn," Bruce says sternly. 

"Did he tell you?" the usually confident villain whispers, nibbling her lip briefly before catching herself and sitting straighter. "And I'm guessing I have minutes until the GCPD comes storming in?" Her tone is a good deal too resigned for his liking. He was used to the snarky yet bubbly blonde that could give as good as she got. Not whatever this was. 

"He didn't need to, and no, I didn't call them. While you may have had me fooled for a short time, if you remember, you've met me up close in both of your guises."

"I do," she tells him with a whiplash-inducing mood shift as she smiles brightly at him. "I flirted with you rather shamelessly to see if it would push his buttons." As the last word falls from her lips, Harley's face falls before she forces the brightness back to it. 

"Do you plan on making mischief while you're here?" he asks bluntly.

"No. But if we're gonna be honest about who we are, let's be fully honest," Harley practically chirps, sitting forward in her seat to lean toward him. "Do you prefer to be addressed as Bruce or Batman?" That shining smile is back, all teeth and gaiety.

"I'm sorry?" he repeats her own words back to her, cocking his head for good measure. 

"Oh, I thought we'd just agreed to stop pretending we were other than we are," she practically whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a ridiculous pout as her mood shifts again. 

"How?" He was genuinely curious. The only people who knew his secret were Alfred and Lucius, and only because it had been necessary at the time. 

"Your eyes," she tells him, giving him a small smile. "They're quite a unique blue. And as you mentioned, we've been in close enough quarters in both of our guises for me to have gotten a good look. The jaw, too, but the eyes were the clincher." Bruce nods, unsure how to fix a problem like that on the spot, but resolves to put Lucius's mind to it the next time they meet. 

"That brings us back to the original question. What can I do for you today, Harley?" Bruce cocks his head to the side as he sits back in his chair, as comfortable as he can get around one of Gotham's most unpredictable villains. Harley nibbles her lip again, her hands restlessly fidgeting in her lap. 

"I…I wanted to know how he's doing?" she asks, her shoulders hunching down as she stares at a spot just over his shoulder. One of the strongest women he knows has been brought down to this? He'd watched the effects of this split on Joseph all week as he stayed at the Manor, constantly in the private gym, running around the estate, or pacing about. Sleep was only something he did when forced by Bruce or Alfred. Alfred had gotten downright testy with Joseph when he'd missed several meals in a row, taking the spotlight off Bruce for a change. 

"He's…restless and irritable," Bruce answers truthfully. "I don't think he knows what to do with himself if he's not working, and whatever happened, it…has affected him." Harley nods as if expecting this rather vague answer. Unable to help himself, Bruce gently places a hand on her knee. "For whatever it's worth, he was clearly happy with you. Honestly, it's the happiest I've seen him in quite a long time, and when he looked at you, he smiled more than he has since we were kids." It's odd to see this level of genuine emotion in her eyes, and he realizes that whatever happened, it hurt her as much as it did his friend. Removing his hand, Bruce sits back in the chair before continuing. "That being said, Joseph will never be what you want, Harley. He needs stability, and the life you lead wouldn't be good for him." She could so easily destroy one of the best men he'd ever known. Joseph’s secret darkness likely rivals Harley's, and Bruce would hate to see that come out. Would hate to have to fight his friend before putting him away in Blackgate or Arkham.

"He deserves to be whole, not the repressed version of himself that he’s created," Harley defends her position vehemently, a manic look in her eyes. The devil and the angel meet across the table from each other to play a chess game that could determine a man's fate. How odd to be having this debate with her. 

"There's a part of me that agrees. He should be whole, but not in the way you mean. That version of Joseph is manic, with an almost bipolar personality. He has these extreme ups and downs, and he's worked too hard to become the even-keeled person he is today." Bruce remembers a time in college when Joseph almost beat a man to death over something inconsequential, laughing as he did so, and knows that it would be so very easy for his friend to slip back into that mindset. He'd had small cracks in the facade over the years, but he'd never resorted to that level of violence again. 

"Don't push him down that path, Harley," Bruce begs. "If you care about him, you'll let him be." A manic laugh bursts from Harley's lips as her hands clutch together at her chest. 

"I can't," she gasps between breaths, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes even as she laughs. He can see in her eyes that she won’t let Joseph go, and it terrifies him. If given another chance, he knows Joseph won’t turn away from her but will instead abandon the person he’s become, and Bruce doesn’t want that for his friend.

"Please, Harley. If you care about him as much as you seem to, you'll know your way of life will eat away all the good in him."

Suddenly standing, Harley dabs at the corner of her eyes. They’re now bright with that magic gleam he'd seen before when she formed a cockeyed plan in the middle of a fight, and it terrifies him.

"Thank you for this, B-man," she murmurs as the humor slowly drains from her eyes. Walking to the door, she pauses before opening it and turns to face him. "I'm glad he has someone to take care of him." 

Putting out her hand, she waits silently for him to decide if it's a trick. His hand engulfs her much smaller one, and when he looks down, even in the heels, she barely comes to his chin. She seems so helpless in this guise, but how many weapons was she hiding under her clothing, and how quickly could she get to them? Harley steps into him as if sensing his train of thought, her head tipping back as she smiles wolfishly at him.

"I promised not to make trouble, Brucey, so don't go making the scene yourself, hmm?" Lightly squeezing his hand once more, she steps back and is through the door before he can think. Had she truly only come here to check on Joseph? 

Bruce goes back to his computer, watching her progress through his building. She touches nothing she doesn't absolutely have to and walks sedately from his building, handing the valet her ticket. When the man is gone, Harley turns to the camera that he watches her through and blows it a kiss, a small condescending smile on her face. Was the madness all an act then, or was this woman the act? 

Watching her drive away, Bruce resolves to put her down permanently as Batman if need be. Gotham would likely give him a medal for getting her off the streets, and it would save Arkham a good deal of money, as he knew her specialized upkeep wasn't cheap. For the sake of his friend's soul, he'd do it gladly.