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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
18
A few years ago, I read an article in some newspaper about a woman who got attacked by a deer; it was a pretty extensive article and I had never laughed so much about news in my life. A lady had apparently been attacked on her driveway by a doe and had practically been stripped naked by the animal's snapping teeth and beating hooves. I was convinced it was fake news; it was too ridiculous to be anything other than that.
I had an experience at the zoo with a cracked out Zebra; what a fucking eye opener. I had been too busy worrying about the predators and the larger animals that the idea of a pissed off, glorified donkey in attack mode had never even crossed my mind. I was completely blindsided; it had bulldozed me into the floor then attempted to trample and bite my clothes to shreds. If I hadn't been able to reach my gun, which had gone skittering a few feet away, I have no doubt I would have died a very humiliating death. Luckily I survived, only to be teased about it by that bitch and her 'Lookin' good' comment.
When I start going down the narrow stairs at the end of the hall I readjust the commissioner who is dangling uncomfortably over my shoulder like a sac of potatoes. My ribs are aching, they are probably bruised and I know that I shouldn't have pulled Gordon out of the car; none of the boys were around though and after the reactions of Mr. J and his bitch I really didn't want to draw any more of attention by showing weakness.
Once I reach the basement room Mr. J reserves for his 'special guests' I flop the old man down and secure his arms and legs to the steel chair. I do the man a favor and keep the lights off when I leave; he really doesn't need to see the instruments of pain Mr. J keeps in there.
I make my way back towards the main room to let Mr. J know that his guest is ready for him but slow my pace considerably just a few feet away from the entrance. The door is only partially closed and I can hear the voices emanating from within, Dr. Quinzel is obviously upset and there is a frigid edge to Mr. J's voice. Careful not to make any noise and making sure to stay hidden behind the door, I creep closer until the muffled voices become clearer.
"…-ween us and I won't let you do it!" Her last few words are strained. There is some more garbled back and forth that I don't quite hear so I creep even closer. Unable to stop myself I take a peek through the crack between the door and it's frame; I've seen this before. Mr. J has taken ahold of her neck and he looks to be squeezing, Harley's face is flushed. Thankfully they are both so absorbed in each other that neither notices the large eye spying on them.
Licking my lips, I step away as silently as I can and only turn my back to the door when I'm at a safe distance. The doctor is finally going to bite the bullet, thank God. It's not anything personal but Mr. J is unpredictable enough as it is and they are obviously a bad influence on each other. The world, and more importantly I, will probably be safer without her around. I make my way out the side of the building to the boys in the back; I will also definitely not be interrupting them. I'll get Frankie to do it; he's been after my job for a while.
She feels amazing. Her breasts are heavy in my palms and when I drag my hands from them to her ass the parts of her skin that are exposed are like cashmere underneath my fingers. I can feel the heat radiating from her pussy through my jeans; I can't control the moan as I grip her ass and grind my growing erection against her warmth. Her blue eyes are glazed over with desires and she's so deliciously responsive; perfect, she's per-
"Puddin'-"
-fect (until she speaks!) "Stop calling me that!" I snap against her skin as I drag my lips from hers to press kisses along her jaw and neck. I'm so hard; I get visions of her beautifully soft skin chained up and those lovely lips wrapped my dick (bet she won't be yabbering then). My hands come back to her shirt and I start unbuttoning it (fuck this) I fist the sides of her shirt in preparation to rip them apart.
"Mr. J." (Oh shut up!) She pushes against my chest; I know she can feel my heart (yes, I have one) hammering because I feel like it might explode out of my rib cage (seen Aliens anyone?). If she opens her mouth to do anything other than give me head I'm going t-
"I love you, puddin'."
I blink at her (….). "What?"
She grips my shirt and presses her fists into my chest "I love you."
Love is for the blind "Heh…" love is for disillusioned "Haha…" love is for the insane "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA." Tears of mirth start streaming down my cheeks and I push her as I stumble away and collapse into the nearest chair.
She follows me to the chair "Stop!"
Love? Ladies and gentlemen love is a gun I haven't had aimed at me in a long, long time (thank god!) and for a very good reason too. For one, who could love me? I'm pretty unlovable (ain't that the truth?) and for two no one's lived long enough (bang bang). Not since before my rebirth. Not since –
"Stop it!"
My laughter hasn't died down despite the tendrils of memories (those treacherous things) that I sense start to curl around my skull. The laughter stops abruptly though when the heat from her lips seeps into mine; she's warm, so deliciously warm. I groan into her and lean forward; her hands move up my chest and tangle in my hair.
A heat burns upward from my belly into my chest (what is that? Heartburn?) and my heart (aka frostbitten pea) does a very strange jerky… twitchy ….thing. She pulls back and runs her very gentle fingers across my lips.
"You told me I wouldn't have to lie to you. That I need to lie to everybody else but not you." She leans forward and presses her lips against me "That goes both ways. You can lie to everybody else about what you can and cannot feel, but you don't have to lie to me." She presses her lips on my neck and my heart does another weird jerky squirmy thing (is there a worm squiggling around in my chest?!).
She puts her hand on my chest, right above my (ice chip)-I mean heart "Don't tell me you don't feel this!"
That thing in my chest does it's squirmy wriggling again when I look into her eyes (that's enough of that shit); I squish it down. Her glowing eyes (breathtaking) haven't left mine and she leans forward to try to kiss me again but I grab her by the shoulders and keep her at arms length. This is going to stop now; she's getting clingy and there is nothing less attractive than a needy woman.
My hands clench on her shoulders with bruising force; she winces but she tries to push forward, she wants to kiss me. My hands give way for her (what the fuck?) and I let her, it makes me feel something (gooey?). What is this? What the fuck is this! Why am I feeling this now? The rage flares in my stomach and I push her harshly backward onto the floor.
"Love, Doctor" I spit as I stand over her "Love... love!" I burst into strained laughter "If I didn't know better I'd ask you if you were crazy."
She gets to her knees in front of me and places her hands on my thighs and I see flashes of our first night together. She looks beautiful, like she belongs there gazing up at me with those adoring (yes, it is adoration!) eyes.
"I am crazy... for you! And you feel something for me too!"
She's beautiful (yes I've already admitted that), I'll even venture as far as to say I like her (insert noise of exasperation) but love? Love is meaningless, common, boring, one-dimensional and completely beneath me (right?).
"Have you forgotten who I am Doctor? Love is for the foolish masses and I am not one of them! "
She slaps her hands on my thighs "Stop calling me that!" she slaps her hands on my thighs again "Stop calling me doctor! I know what you are doing! You're trying to create distance between us and I won't let you do it!"
I roll my eyes (fucking psychiatrists), if they are not trying to make sense of me (fucking pointless) they are trying to fix me (I like being broken).
"I'm your pumpkin and you are my puddin'! I love you and you feel it too and you can't change that!"
"The hell you say?"
I grab a hold of her neck with bruising force and push her all the way down to the floor, I straddle her chest then use my free hand to pull out my gun and point it at her head. This is it ladies and gentlemen; tonight is the night she dies.
She's scared this time (delicious); I can see it quite clearly when her wide, teary eyes linger on the glock pointed at her forehead. her throat convulses under my palm (decadent) as she swallows nervously; her eyes narrow when they move from the glock to me. Yes, the fear is still there but in the stiffness of her jaw and her unwavering gaze there is also determination and excitement.
This is clearly the look of a lovesick crazy woman (uh oh). "Heheh…"
Best put this bitch out of my misery, I squeeze the trigger.
The gun doesn't react (What the fuck?). I pull it away from her head so I can look down the barrel and examine the trigger (looks fine). I put it back against her head and I squeeze the trigger. Nothing happens (What the fuck!).
The door bangs open and Frankie enters the room "Mr. J the commissioner is downstairs waiting for y-"
He stops speaking when he processes Harley's partially unbuttoned shirt and my straddling her with a gun to her head. I don't give him time to react; I point the gun at him and squeeze the trigger. A satisfying bang resounds through the room as blood splashes on the beige door and wall behind him.
Well, it's not the gun that's on the fritz; I glare at my trigger finger (et tu, Brute?); I can't pull the trigger. I can't fucking kill her (Huston we have a problem)! I growl in frustration as I throw the gun across the room and slap my hands down on either side of Harley's head.
Harley is staring at the blood stained walls, her breath coming out in quick bursts. I can't shoot her! I've never felt so impotent in my entire life! Fine then, ladies and gentlemen I'm nothing if not crafty; if I can't make her disappear then I'm going to make her affliction (aka madness) work for me.
I know I've won the battle when he throws his gun across the room in exasperation; I also know as I see his calculating blue eyes size me up that I'm not even close to winning the war. His already cool blue eyes have turned chilly and his expression is breathtakingly devious. His head twitches up and to the side even as he pulls his opposite shoulder down and makes that odd rumbling noise at the back of his throat.
I smile at his mannerisms; the head twitch is something he does when he's frustrated. My familiarity with him and my growing ability to read his behavior is leaving me feeling stupidly giddy. I run my hands up his thighs, back down then up again in a comforting motion. How many women have been this close to him before? How many have survived him this long? None. That's how many, not a one. This man is extremely dangerous, complex, cunning, and incredibly volatile; by his own admission there has been no other woman. Yet here I am reading his behaviors. He can do and say what he likes but he will let me in because I know, I know, he can feel this too.
Taking a deep breath I place my hands on his chest again to feel his heart still in his chest, I knowI should be horrified by the dead body that fell to the floor a few feet away. I'm not. The other part of me that so wants to be with Mr. J, the other part of me that provided the will to shoot batman and clobber the commissioner over the head won't let me care.
"You love me?" his voice is mocking but I don't take the bait instead I wrap my arms around his neck and stretch upward to him. I worry he won't let me follow through, but when our lips meet he kisses me back aggressively. His hands pass over my shoulders and slip into my bra to cup my breasts.
I clench my arms around his shoulders and moan as I feel his growing erection press between us. "Yes, I love you." I whisper against his lips "Why are you pushing me aw-"
He pushes face away and my head bounces painfully on the floor, he gives me a second to get my bearings. "How much do you love me?"
I should be appalled at his behavior but I'm not, it makes my heart race. His eyes are glowing at me and I whisper "I told you I'm crazy for you."
"Hehe… well isn't that ironic." We smile at each other "Ok, Doctor." my smile drops, I'm not his doctor! I'm his pumpkin' and no matter how much he tries to push me away that won't ever change.
"Prove it."
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel