We live in nightmares.

Having done abit of rummaging, soon he would return into that room with his usual stooped posture. Head canted forward abit, he'd make his way back to her still tangled up in the everything of the situation. A hand coming to her knee as he'd squeeze it tightly and hook that knee's inside in his hand. Scooting her, he pulled the captive little clown of his over and settle the items upon the table next to her. "C'mere..." Up she rose, small of her back being pushed so she sat up straight and was aligned so. Leaving her bare ass naked was one of the incentives of keeping her tied up, so hands stayed the way they were. Spider walk up that spine before he'd reach under the crown and get a handful of that hair in his hands. God he savored pulling at that hair, and as he'd give a slight pull so she was jogged awake, he'd talk to her. Free hand's thumb going to trace along her soft jawline as he spoke so close to that pretty thing's face she could hear him breathing. "You know what I see when I see you Harley?"

She was finally coming down from that high, but she was still a little dream-like, but even in her dream like state she obeyed his very order. Her eyes focused in on him lazily, as his fingers spider walked up her spine, she'd straight up higher and higher, until she was sitting up prime and proper, well as proper as a naked clown girl could get. In her own right she was strong so she could keep herself sitting up straight like with her arms tied behind her back it could have made her balance askew. Startled by the sudden pull she inhaled, taking his breath in with her own. Her attention was now fully on him, awake from that dream-like status when he pulled at the blonde locks. His question, like many of the questions he asked made her curious but at the same time made her worry, it was because he was so unpredictable. At first she couldn't find words, she'd been left speechless by the entire thing, she shook her head no at first before whispering softly too him. "Tell me what you see..." That should have sounded like a question a strink would ask, but no this time it was semi-pillow talk, no longer did she want to drill him with Freudian questions.

"I see..." As thumb would work in a slow methodical pattern, being ever so gentle as he traced the entire outline of her face. Going along the hair line and coming back again with a breeze like touch, before smudging it down her chin. "...white picket fences.." That hand would leave her face again, moving off and out of her line of sight before returning, the back of his hand moving to stroke against her cheek with an uneasy amount of tenderness. The process repeating itself again, before his fingers padded several times along those cheeks in easy motions. "..A house..", again hand would disappear, and he would gently bring those eyes down of hers close, almost appearing reluctant to shut out that baby blue sight from his own. Those lids were seemingly brushed several times over, before he would hold her cheeks in his hands and give a slight squeeze. "..kids and a.. bright, bright future.." And suddenly she felt contact against her lips, whatever it was being penciled into those fine pouty features of her. All these flights of fancy sounding like something out of fairy tale, and completely uncharacteristic of his usual nihilist approach. Perhaps she was becoming aware of what he had been doing, but he'd speak again, ever so haunting in his tone. "And you know what the absolute worst part of it is..?" Having scooted her back into that close proximity of him, closing his body against her and putting his painted forehead against hers, those fingers had grabbed her thighs now leaving the snow white prints of recently face painting, but keeping her in the dark as to how she looked.

Her head and neck would tilt into him, still begging his touch. Normally this closeness would leave her uneasy, she should have been uneasy after the semi-rape slash best sex of her life, but there it was best sex of her life. And something about after that, he showed a moments weakness to her, like he had in the straitjacket and when he turned his back to her, loaded gun in hand. That's when she'd fallen for him, he was very capable of two things at once and that to Harley was a turn on. One moment he was basically the deadest man in Gotham and the next he was caressing her. At first she didn't know what was going on, but she felt something wet and a bit cold land on her skin, it was on his finger tips too. Her heart thudded in her chest when he told her what he saw. She bit at her lip when he forced her to be shut into darkness, but didn't fuss when she felt his finger tips on her eye lids. Eyes soon eased back open, same baby blue gaze placed on him. Her breath hitched when the contact was made to her lips. All the while she kept those bare and smooth legs of hers close to his sides, not clinging barely making contact, until he brought her closer. Then legs hung causally around his waist and lower body. Blue eyes closed on instinct when he came close to her, but she felt his forehead against hers and they came back into view. The fairytale he was telling her, was a bit disturbing coming from him but none the less she kept listening, he was telling it therefore she was listening with great intent. "What's the worst part..." She almost nuzzled her head up against his, again any tempt to show him affection, and that's when she saw it on her thigh. Just like she'd done for him--- painted him, she knew what he'd done, of course. But she was left wondering if he'd made her like him or something different.

"I..." That hand moved up again, stroking at her face and giving a rather gentle pat. He seemed almost admiring what he had done, only for him to go very cold. It was as if the entire temperature in the room shifted with his change in temperament. His fingers sunk sharply into her hair again, this time with not the same sort of playful allure of attraction. This time it was different, this time he hurt. His voice was now demonic, and it oozed with a strange new venom. Gone was the whisper, only the sudden rage that swelled inside him. "HATE.. IT.." Dragged was the word for it, as he pulled away from her, grasping that elbow of hers and pulling her stumbling off off that desk, his talking now incredibly frantic. His words seeming as though harm was going to befall her at any time. "Normality can't exist in these strange days. People butcher people.. and you want us to live in a dream world. Well let me tell you something puddin', I don't live in dreams. I live in NIGHTMARES! So I took your pretty face of yours, and I made you what you were asking for. I've made you what you've begged to be.. since that first day you walked in and stared at me with those big old eyes of yours. You want to help me? You can't even help yourself.. but in the end.. it doesn't even matter. Look, Harley.. I told you I wanted to make you smile." Their short trip came to an end as he kept her head down, pointing at the floor. The light of the dim bathroom taking over them as her stomach pressed against the sink. He loomed close to her, still refusing to part away from that bare flesh that tempted him so. "And I promise you.. it's easy to smile when you don't care.. and everything around you is burning." He eased her up, that gentleness returning as her neck was guided up and allowed her to look upon the sloppy, chaotic look that he had given her. Mirror reflecting him haunting from over her shoulder, hair released and making an almost tada expression with that free hand. "So smile sweetheart.. I've made a special place in my own little hell just.. for.." And then he brought the scars to bare against her cheek, turning his head and giving a rather symbolic kiss. Sealing away Harleen forever, he ensured Harley would be the one greeting him whenever he woke from his 2 hour naps. That Harley would hold that gun next time. That Harley was his. Those arms having come about her as he held her there against him with the clear body language being shown like a hot light. He owned her, and she was his. Forever "You."

That coldness hit her, it forced her entire body to stop. She was sure her own heart skipped a beat. The voice scared her the most, she'd never heard it. Not directed towards her, the guards and the other patients at Arkham yes. She yelped uncharacteristically when he grabbed at her hair. It hurt, it was the first time he ever inflicted pain on her, too bad it wouldn't be the last. As he ranted, she wondered how long he kept that inside of him, how frantic his thoughts could turn scared her. Now he was rough, it was almost as if she'd forgotten that he was capable of gentleness, but she didn't fight with him she didn't fight or dare yelp again when he grasped at her already cramping limbs. Her legs where still a little 'sea legged' as he forced her to walk, stumbling once or twice as he dragged her. Everything flooded her senses and her memories. Walking into that dirty office that she was supposed to cure him in, instead he brought out her own sickness, and in a twisted way he was curing her. She knew that she was never going to be content with her life, she didn't like her life. Even how she got his case left her in a place of self loathing. Her first time those big eyes of hers fixed on him, and her first thought of him was to be unimpressed, he was in his prison attire, no make up either, just a man who'd probably inflicted those scars himself to fit this persona. Never sure how it happened but she fell in love with him, maybe because he could see beyond the face that she wore so well, behind the body that brought men to their knees. But he brought her joy, joy for the first time in years, when he first sent Gotham into pure chaos she enjoyed it. She liked how the entire town would hunt one man down because he threatened to demask his favorite game in Batman. I just want to make you smile. Those words were forever emblazoned in her memory, and now he had done it, not to say he hadn't done it before. She didn't trust the gentleness as he guided her towards the glass. There she was, there was Harley Quinn. Features painted a ghostly white and black accenting her lips and eyes, even those baby blues didn't look like hers, well they never looked like hers, now they seemed to fit. Eyes shifting she saw that Agent of Chaos staring at her, he loomed over her but now she wasn't interested in him, that was until he grasped onto her again. Her eyes shutting as he embraced her, once she was settled though those eyes snapped open, and she saw what he saw. The body language said it all, he was claiming her. From this day forward she'd belong to no man but him. She felt the thick scar against her cheek and she turned, the scars never upset her or frightened her. His lips against hers however, that was different, she wanted her arms back for that. Whatever part of Harleen was alive after the murder she committed now dead, she urged him a little more, even going so far to bite at his lip. Now it was official, she belonged him.

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a/n; in our story --- this is how harleen became harley.

comments are love.

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