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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel	By : Risen86 Category: DC Verse Comics > Suicide Squad Views: 6735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
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10
I open my eyes to the pitch black of the room and lie there in silence as I wait for my eyes to adjust. My body aches and for a second I have no recollection of why there is a pleasant heat burning between my thighs or why all my muscles are sore. Then the images start flashing in my mind and, tugging my thin blanket up to cover my bare chest, I sit up in bed and look to my right where he was when I fell asleep. Gone… I wonder if it will be a pattern with him. I look towards my bathroom and see the handle of his switchblade still sticking out of the door then I look at the floor, his dress shirt is still where he dropped it. I throw myself backwards into my pillow; does that mean he's still here? I close my eyes and replay the night in my mind.
I would be a fool to say that I am not scared, I am, I'm terrified; but more than that I'm spellbound.
I can tell the second I have him, I can tell from the tension in his shoulders and how his whole body goes still; I feel the triumph shudder through me when I hear the 'thunk!' of the knife penetrating the wood of my bathroom door. Dragging my hands up his thighs I cup him through his pants; his shaft is hard, hot and pulsating underneath my fingers. His hands already gripping tightly at my hair twist and yank painfully forward, I let myself be pulled and my head drops onto his hip as I massage him. After laying another kiss on his throbbing cock, I undo the button, unzip his pants and reach in to wrap my hand around him. I hear the groan come from above me when I start a slow up and down motion, his hands tug and with the pain that comes shooting down my scalp there also comes a feeling of power. I let go of him and readjust his pants so he juts free just inches from my face; reaching up to his cream shirt I pull at it so the bottom buttons pop open. Cupping his balls with my right hand, I grip the base of his thick cock with my left and kiss the swollen head.
His hands pull harshly again, "Stop messing around Harley."
His voice is strained, I've never heard it like that before and it makes me giddy; smiling wide for him I look up into his eyes briefly and take him into my mouth. I hear a thud and when I pull back I see his head against the door, the switchblade has nicked his temple, but he doesn't react to the cut or the bead of blood dripping down his face. I sink back towards him enjoying the feel of his cock slipping back and forth between my lips. He mumbles something inaudible then, readjusting his grip so that one hand is at the back of my head and the other beneath my jaw, he begins to piston his hips back and forth. His movements are rushed and forceful but I don't fight him or find it unpleasant, instead what was warmth in between my thighs flares and moisture slips down my thighs. I trail my hands up onto the firm muscles in his abdomen and enjoy the feel of them flexing as his pounding continues to block my airway. Just when the need for air turns into burning in my lungs and my hands push him tentatively away, I feel his abs spasm and I hear a stifled grunt from above me; he stills; his hips jerk once…twice then he grind his orgasm into me. His cum gushes out in jets directly down my throat; he pulls back, withdrawing fully out of my mouth and leaving me gasping with both my hands now on the floor.
He chuckles quietly and places his head back on the door; I can feel his eyes on me.
"Well… that was unexpected."
I just continue to gasp, still trying to catch my breath; but I manage to sit up and look up at him. He puts his hand out to me "Come here pumpkin." I take his hand and he helps me up to my feet, his touch is uncharacteristically gentle when he caresses my cheek and pushes my hair over my shoulder, "I came here to kill you."
Not for the first time this evening, I feel fear slice through me, I shake my head at him though "No you didn't; you knew this would happen. You wanted this to happen, you like me."
" I've killed people I like and paid people I don't, pumpkin. Stop trying to convince yourself that I could care, it's going to wreak havoc on your health."
I shake my head but I don't argue; he'll believe whatever he needs to believe. The fact remains that I'm still alive when every single other doctor he's managed to get his hands on has died horribly; that on it's own means something. The fact that he's leaning into me, his dick hardening again against my belly and his lips kissing my neck meanssomething.
"Has there been anybody else?" I ask; I've looked online and never found anything about past relationships. He doesn't answer, he's obviously distracted so I push him away and repeat the question. He rolls his eyes at me and tries to lean back into me so I push him away again; he grabs my wrists painfully and slams them into the door.
"No!" He snarls, his temper is back but his answer, I had expected it, and it means something. "Are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to use force?"
My heart is hammering in my chest and I can't get my lips to form words so I use my legs to climb up onto his hips and press my lips against his. He smiles at me and slams me back into the door; my head barely misses the jutting switchblade, and he presses his lips back into mine. His kiss is harsh and his hands now at my hips are bruising, but my juices flow freely onto his cock that I can feel rubbing between my legs. I grind into him and moan against his lips. He turns from the door walks a few feet then pulls me unexpectedly off him and throws me the remaining distance towards the bed. My upper back hits the mattress but my ass hits the wooden frame and I yelp in pain. My heart is thundering in my chest from excitement and my hands are trembling; he's walking towards me, his pants hanging low and open, his hands are up at his chest unfastening the remaining buttons on his cream colored shirt.
I start to move up when he reaches the foot of the bed but he grabs my ankle and pulls me roughly, I yelp and giggle as I'm dragged back down. He drops his shirt behind him then proceeds to remove his pants. He wasn't lying, the carpet does match the drapes, but the hair there seems darker than the hair on his head and I'm not sure if it's an illusion because of the bad lighting or if it is actually darker. I reach forward and run my fingers over it, he makes a noise at the back of his throat then grasps my arm and yanks me up for another kiss; when he's done he pushes me back onto the bed. He nudges my thigh with his knee, I get the message, I prop myself up on my elbows and forearms as I spread my legs for him. His eyes are riveted and I hear a heavy exhale, he reaches over and runs a finger through the slickness there then pushes his moist finger in his mouth. I moan at the sight and he smiles at me.
Holding my legs he flips me over onto my belly then kneels on the bed between my legs; his fingers reach for my pussy and spread it. "Please…" I reach behind me for his thigh and I push back "Please!" He gives me what I'm begging for with one harsh thrust.
"Ugh… Fuck." my voice hoarse.
One of his hands is in my hair pulling my head back, straining the muscles in my neck; the other slaps me on my thigh then grips my waist. His thrusts are not any kinder now that I can feel him pounding into me from behind than they were earlier on but the pleasure is undeniable. One of my hands tangle with his in my hair and the other one I use to prop myself up on the bed. I'm moaning uncontrollably as his thrusts push us further and further up on the bed. Soon my moans are almost sobs and his silence has turned into grunting; we've moved so far up the bed that I am crushed against the wooden headboard. My neck is craned down, both my hands on the pillows underneath me; he's above me his thrusts banging my head into the wood and his hands on the wall behind it. My whole body is strained, twisted and in pain but I've never felt anything like the pleasure it's giving me; I close my eyes overwhelmed by it. I cry out one last time when my orgasm hits and I feel myself clench convulsively around him. He keeps thrusting, and thrusting and thrusting until finally he shudders on a heavy groan.
We stay like that for a while, me wedged underneath, him hovering above me; both of us gasping and slick with sweat. His crushing weight eventually pulls away from me easing the tension in my body and allowing me to stretch out on the bed; he doesn't say a word when he lies down beside me. I give him a quick peck on the cheek, to which he doesn't react; I snuggle in close to him, delighted when he doesn't push me away and fall instantly asleep.
I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling in thrilled disbelief, and then I get up off the bed and pick up his shirt; by the time I've reached my bedroom door I've already put it on and buttoned it up. In the sitting room American Psycho is airing on TV and in front of the TV, doing sit-ups, is Joker. I pause stunned that he really is still here, and then I giggle at the absurdity and irony of finding Joker, in my sitting room, watching American Psycho in the middle of the night. I look at the clock on the wall its three thirty in the morning then I look at him on the floor in the middle of a workout.
"Are you nuts?" I blurt still snickering when I sit on the couch.
"Is that actually a question?" he says not stopping his workout and not looking at me; he's covered in sweat so I know he's been at it for a while. My snickering turns into a full laugh and I shake my head "I guess not. What time did you wake up?"
"I didn't."
My curiosity is doubly peeked "You mean you didn't sleep?"
He stops his sit-ups to give me a withering look; clearly sit-ups are acceptable at 3:30am but conversation is not. I mime zipping my mouth, locking it and throwing away the key then nestle into the couch to watch American Psycho.
I glare at her silently as she throws away her imaginary key and settles into the couch contently (disgustingly content mind you); she's supposed to be dead… and let me tell you, for a dead person, she's doing a lot of walking and talking (…and fucking for that matter). Her hair is dry now falling in waves down her shoulders; her blue eyes are half closed clearly comfortable enough to be drowsy. She's beautiful and having her kneeling in front of me, having her crushed against the bed and distorted was intoxicating. I can feel myself hardening just thinking about it, she must sense my eyes on her because she does a double take and smiles at me.
"What?" she asks
You're supposed to be dead.
I open my mouth to tell her just that when a phone rings and catches both our attention. Her eyebrows shoot up and she gets up and walks back to the bedroom and out again with her phone in her hand, she's smiling.
"Who is that?"
She shrugs, "It's just Dom." I feel my lips turn down, another dead man walking.
I don't respond instead I turn over and start doing push-ups. It's better than staring at the ceiling and failing at sleep. Siesta, like sanity, is something that comes in short supply (fortunately for my abs). When I stop working out the sun is peaking through the windows and Harley is asleep, I roll my eyes at her then walk into the bathroom to have a shower.
When I come out she's still asleep, clenching my fingers I crawl onto the couch with her and lodge my thighs under hers, pushing her legs up so her thighs settle on top of mine. She starts awake her eyes wide; she looks disoriented for a second and her eyes settle on me.
"You know darlin' " I say placing my fingers around her neck "You can tell a lot about a person from their hands." Her blue eyes are locked on mine and her breathing is shallow but she doesn't say anything. "For example," I tighten my hands around her throat "if they have their hands around your throat, they probably want you dead." She doesn't laugh and there's fear in her eyes but it seems to fizzle a little and she kisses my wrists. I squeeze tighter and push my thighs closer to hers; she grabs my shoulders and pushes away. My shirt slips up her thighs and opens, exposing her bare pussy to me; my eyes are drawn there and my fingers loosen minutely.
I hear a door bang open and my head jerks to look behind me.
"Mr. J, we have a probl-" the words come to a stuttering halt. I let go of her neck and turn around fully, she lets go of my shoulders and props herself up.
"Uh…" Frost is standing in the doorway between the sitting room and the hall. "Sorry for interrupting Mr. J. " His eyes are lodged between her legs. My temper flares.
"See something you like?" I snap.
"Uh… sorry Mr. J. I was expecting her to be…" he glances at Harley. He expected her to be dead (yea, you and me both buddy). He seems unusually fidgety all of a sudden and his eyes jerk around the room, looking anywhere and everywhere but at Harley (smart man).
"What do you want?" I ask Frost, I feel Harley shifting around underneath me. I look down at her to find she's pulled my shirt down to cover herself.
"We have a problem on the west side, boss."
"Mmm." I respond getting up and walking towards the door "No rest for the wicked I guess."
I hear Harley shuffling around on the couch behind me "Hey, don't you want your shirt back?"
"Don't worry about it toots. It looks better on you anyway."
"Ok." Then after a pause "Um, Mr. J" I turn to face her "Batman was here earlier, he is going to be looking for you."
I smirk "Isn't he always?"
I've got so many places to go and so many people to kill so I turn to leave; Harley gets to live another day.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel