Joker's Wilde Pt. 03

Oh wow, he's completely insane, Harley mused. Patient is suffering from PTSD, resulting in daylight hallucinations and a Messiah Complex.

"Do you want to see it?"

"My double-aura, so bright and so vivid?" she asked sarcastically.

"The Cloak of Souls, Harley Quinn," he said tersely. "Once you see it, you'll believe. But I must warn you- it feeds off the energy it's given. It will harm those with impure intentions."

She realized that he'd called her by her name- her real name- and she certainly hadn't told him what it was. "Sure. What the hell," Harley answered shakily.

Without a word, Rory led her through a doorway that had been covered with a quilt. It was appliquéd with mystical Jewish symbols, the stitches nearly invisible. Before she passed through, Harley noticed a Mezuzah case affixed on the right side of the door post; marked with the Hebrew letter "Shin" for Shaddai, or God, it held a parchment inscribed with the words of the Shema- the Prayer of Israel. This blessing was for what seemed to be Rory's bedroom. Well, at least it had a bed in it.

Is this the cost of his "gift"? Harley was beginning to think

"Here it is," he said proudly, standing next to a vintage dressmaker's dummy cloaked in a rather ordinary cape with a cowl. "You don't see it," Rory deduced from her skeptical expression. "I forget sometimes that normal people don't see the way we do."

We? Like the royal "We"?

"The Ragmen," he clarified, as if reading her thoughts. "My name is Rory Regan, son of Gerry Regan, and I am the last Ragman," he pronounced.

No matter how cute or sexy Harley found this tatterdemalion to be, she could no longer indulge in his elaborate fantasy. "Well...I'm really flattered that you wanted to reveal your secret identity to me or whatever, but I have to be going now."

"Wait! Just touch it," Rory insisted, grabbing Harley by the arm as she started to step. "I'm not lying, I promise!"

"Let go of me!" He released her so promptly that Harley Quinn was more surprised than she would have been if he'd hit her. Studying Rory's face, she could tell that he believed every word that he'd said; but that hardly made it true.

"I don't want to hurt you," Rory told her, showing her his palms and backing away. "I just want you to touch the Cloak. Please."

Harley approached with her hand out, fully expecting to feel the coarse texture of its roughspun cloth. But it became apparent upon contact that this was no ordinary material. It was smoother than silk in a breeze, slightly tacky like a spider's web, and felt like it was undulating- or breathing- even though it was visibly inanimate. It was what she imagined a cloud would feel like; an angel's sigh; a cool flame. She giggled in delight, as if she were petting some ephemeral newborn lamb.

"That's amazing!" murmured Harley at last.

Rory gave a crooked grin. "So you can feel it- the souls woven into the fabric?"

She withdrew her hand squeamishly, as if noticing that the cloak was made out of a thousand cockroaches. Harley Quinn inspected her palm halfway expecting to see a spirit clinging to it like a wisp of smoke.

"It doesn't want to hurt you. It likes you," Rory said, speaking of the Cloak like a sentient being.

Harley touched it again, this time knowing what to expect, and could feel it tugging at the core of her being; like it wanted something from her. "What does it want?" she wondered aloud, all judgment suspended.

"Don't worry- it doesn't want your soul. It wants to link with you: It senses your power."

"Sounds kinky. But I don't have any power," Harley said bitterly, breaking away from its inexplicable draw.

"Of course you do," Rory assured her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "You aren't a victim, Harley Quinn. You're a survivor. And whatever happened to you has made you stronger. I can feel it. Here," he said, his fingertips lingering above her heart.

Harley gripped his hand and pressed it harder into her breast. "This- this here- is broken! And whatever has happened to me is changing me into a freak from the inside out! I can feel it," she confessed. It was more than the arbitrary facts that popped up into her head or her enhanced acrobatics- even the surge of strength that made her feel like she could snap his hand in half right now if she wanted to. I'm turning into him.

"You can control it," Rory insisted. "I could help you, but you'd have to trust me. You'd have to trust yourself."

"How could you help me? No one can help me!" she sobbed and threw herself against Rory's chest. He held her close, stroking her hair as she cried.

"The Cloak can form a link with a person's psyche. Through that connection, it draws on your essence and returns it to you even stronger than before. Purer, you could say."

Like spiritual dialysis. "How does it work?"

Rory seemed to be trying to word his next statement very carefully. He brushed away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks as he thought. "Well, I have to wear the Cloak, of course, and then we'd have to have, um, a period of close physical and emotional contact."

"If you wanted to sleep with me, Rory, you could have gone through a lot less trouble," Harley sniffed, gazing up at him with a ghost of a smile.

He blushed considerably and stammered, "It doesn't have to be sex! I mean, that is certainly one method but there are others and I don't want you to think that I'd-"

"It sounds like the best method to me," Harley Quinn said, pressing a finger to his lips to stop his babbling. "I know that's the one I would choose."

Rory stroked the side of her face fondly and slid a hand behind her head, raking his fingers through her mismatched hair. Harley felt the stubbly terrain of his cheek and jawbone before wrapping her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her; first tasting her lips, then parting them with long, tender kisses so he could slip his tongue inside.

As he taught her how sweet kissing could be, Harley Quinn reciprocated with her own probing swirls and ardent nibbles. Rory's hands roamed down her back and around her waist, finding the bare flesh between her bustier and shorts. She was much more forward with her own groping, squeezing his firm buttocks with both hands and chuckling mischievously. So this is what it's like to want a man...

"You don't have to wear anything under your cloak, do you?" she whispered hotly, flicking his earlobe with her tongue before tugging it gently between her teeth.

"No...not really..." Rory mumbled distractedly, breaking out into goosebumps as she continued licking and sucking his ear.

"Good. Because I'm dying to see what you look like underneath your rags and tatters," she murmured, taking off his worn Carhartt jacket and plaid shirt.

"I'm guessing you don't look too bad yourself, even without your kinky Halloween costume," he teased before kissing her with more intensity. It was just on the verge of being rough, which to Harley Quinn was just right. She pulled off Rory's shirt and ran her fingers through his coarse pelt of dark chest hairs. Just as she'd hoped, beneath his baggy clothes was a sculpted torso- bulging biceps, chiseled pects and washboard abs. What Harley hadn't accounted for were his tattoos.

Most were military related: an upwards facing dagger over two crossed arrows, cradled by a banner bearing the words De Oppresso Liber; a spadille- the Ace of Spades-in the middle of a red Ouroboros- a serpent swallowing it's own tail; and a naked pin-up girl holding M4A1 Carbine with a green beret dangling from the muzzle. Special Ops.

It was on his ribs that Harley found the most intriguing inked adornments- the Kabbalah, or Tree of Life, on one side and the Qliphoth, the Tree of Death, on the other. She traced the intricate connections linking the ten spheres of the sephirot on the right and then the ones between their evil twins on the left. Rory laughed hoarsely as she tickled them at the same time.

"You're beautiful," concluded after Harley Quinn had thoroughly inspected his upper body, scraping her nails along his spine while she gave him another kiss.

Rory was far more sanctimonious removing her laced bustier, treating her like a fragile gift he got to unwrap. He stood back a bit to admire the magnificently luscious breasts heaving before him. Harley's perky little rosebuds- centered on distinct puddles of pale pink- pointed slightly heavenward and seemed to demand homage.

Harley shivered involuntarily when his warm palms glided over her back and around to the sides of her breasts. Seeing her rosy flesh pucker in the open air, he traced her areolas and pinched one nipple tentatively, then the other with more confidence as Harley responded with delight. Then, cradling her by the small of her back, he bent in to devour them.

"You're beautiful," he said breathlessly after sucking each of them in turn.

Harley's eyes slid back into focus after being momentarily transported by the mere act of his worshipping her breasts. She'd never felt anything so sensual before and they'd only just begun. Never before had she wanted to see a man's cock more in her life. Harley Quinn undid the button and zipper of his jeans and let Rory kick them aside before she tugged down the waistband of his boxer briefs.

"Now that's beautiful," she murmured, biting her bottom lip as she stared at his erection. It was darker than the rest of his skin, its head flushed maroon and its thick base disappearing into a nest of glossy black hairs. Harley handled it very carefully, wrapping her fingers around his hard shaft to stroke it up and down, stimulating the corona of his glans with her thumb.

"Mmmm..." he groaned, grazing her neck with his teeth. "You know your way around a cock," he hissed appreciatively.

"You have no idea," she giggled, grabbing his ass firmly as she got down on her knees.

"Oh, baby, you don't have to-" But he never got the chance to tell her what she didn't have to do because Harley Quinn was busy doing it so expertly. Rory barely held her by the sides of her head as she performed fellatio, as if he didn't want to do anything to impede her own perfect technique. "Fuck!" he growled, tilting his pelvis forward and his head back.

"Do you want to fuck me, Rory?" purred Harley, looking up at him as she brushed her smooth lips over his cockhead.

"Yes," he said raggedly.

Still gazing into her lover's eyes, Harley Quinn took him into her mouth as deeply as she could and made a swallowing motion in the back of her throat before rising up again, her tongue circling around his fat roped rod.

"Was that a yes?" she taunted, lapping the underside of his shaft now while she cupped his heavy balls in her palm.

"God, yes..."

With that desperate confirmation, Harley stood up again and he kissed her sweet cocksucking mouth. Those miniscule short shorts fell to her feet after Rory peeled them down over her ass. She wasn't wearing any panties. The aroma of a fully aroused pussy rose up to their nostrils. As soon as it was bared, Rory's fingers delved inside her gash, finding her clit with ease.

"I'm so fucking wet for you," she told him, gripping him tight as his thumb continued to caress her precious pearl and his middle and forefinger plunged into her cunt.

"Mmmm, you feel so good. I bet you taste good too, babe," Rory cooed into his ear as she practically rode his hand. "Why don't you lay down so I can eat your pussy?"

"Oh, Rory...Are you going to put on the cloak now?" she asked as he backed away, holding her at arms length.

"Is that okay? I figured I should put it on before we got too busy," he said gently, taking a step closer so his bobbing erection made contact with her taut tummy.

"Yes. I want you to," Harley agreed, sauntering over to the bed while his eyes stayed glued on her perfectly round bottom. He was then mesmerized by her jiggling breasts as she laid down with her legs splayed open. Rory began to pull the cloak off of the dummy while she watched him, idly fingering herself with one hand and playing with her tits with the other.

"I should turn off the light before I put it on," Rory told her, his hand over the light switch that controlled the lamp in the corner of the room. "I don't want to frighten you," he explained.

"Frighten me? How? I've already seen the monster you've been hiding in your pants," Harley Quinn joked.

"When I wear the cloak, I change into something different."

"Like Bela Lugosi?"

"Like a golem."

"Oh." Harley tried to imagine him turning into a clay statue. "I want to see."

"Okay," Rory said warily. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He approached the foot of the bed slowly and threw the cape over his shoulders. After a moment's pause, he drew the cowl over his head and Harley saw what he meant. Suddenly he was twice as wide and seemed to be towering inches from the ceiling. His skin turned the color of twilight and the texture of earth. Shadows clung to him, a mist enshrouded him, and Harley Quinn could hear his chest rattling as he breathed- like his lungs were full of sand. Shining out from the darkness surrounding his face were two glowing points of light, like molten gold stars. They were his eyes.

The room around them seemed to be darker, almost hazy. But she wasn't afraid of his glamour or the spell it wove around them. Harley Quinn could sense Rory within the golem's form; could almost feel his pure heart beating and the soothing calm of his demeanor. Do you still want me? He asked without moving his lips. She knew that his words were being directly transmitted to her mind. Harley dipped two fingers into her honey pot and then licked off the nectar, thinking More than ever.

The Ragman crawled in between her legs, spreading out his cloak dramatically as his hooded head descended on her sex. Harley cried out at the contrast between his still human tongue and his much coarser lips and face. Again- just rough enough without being painful. Her whole body tingled with a sort of psycho-sexual energy that flowed around and through them.

"Oh, god Rory, that feels so-oh-oh good," she whimpered. It took only one of his super-sized digits stuffed inside of Harley's cunt to tip her over the edge coming. Damn he's skilled...

"Make love to me, Rory. I want you inside of me. Take me now, please!" begged Harley, still writhing around his submerged middle finger.

Without a word he got on top of his willing victim, separating her thighs even more to accommodate his broad frame, and then drew the shadowy garment over them both. She groaned under his weight but whispered for him to continue, please. The darkness consumed all external light, but when Harley looked down she could see their true, luminescent forms. Rory's two mystical tree tattoos came alive, spreading out from roots to branches. His eyes were white-hot embers.

The Ragman's cock, which looked so incomprehensibly large at full attention, seemed to fit inside of Harley Quinn like it was cast directly from her silken tunnel. She raised her hips up to bring him in even deeper. It was so surreally beautiful to see his shaft sliding in and out of her flared pussy, her breasts bouncing against his brutishly muscular chest. A ball of red passion swirling around their union, growing brighter and bigger as his slow rut increased tempo.

You're so sweet and tight, Harley, he thought, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she'd been already. Fuck me, Ragman. I won't break, Harley Quinn promised. Rory responded by abandoning all caution and plowing her more mercilessly than she thought possible. They both needed this raw fuck, but the sensation was only part of their pleasure. The rest was a metaphysical transference of their thoughts and feelings, powers and virtues.

Rory was stroking in and out of her at a rigorous pace while Harley ground her exposed clit against his pubis. The Ragman was taking in all of Harley Quinn's poisonous blood, full of rage and despair, and infusing it with his sense of purpose and hope. Harley was pouring into him her knowledge and abilities so they could join the Collector's Artifact; and loving every fucking moment.

Ragman seemed reticent to kiss her, but Harley reached into his hood and drew him close by his shaggy locks. His lips were sun-dried clay but her tongue found the inside of his mouth still soft and sweet. Kissing him was a strangely erotic experience. Harley had expected him to taste like her pussy but instead his mouth reminded her of cinnamon and smelled like petrichor- the scent of dust in the rain.

It was with their mouths conjoined that Ragman made his strongest connection with Harley Quinn. Able to dive even further, he eventually found Frances lying on her preconscious seabed. He kneeled next to her and gently brushed her blonde locks away from her face, like the Prince about to kiss Sleeping Beauty.

Don't touch her! Harley snapped protectively. She's too weak.

You're wrong. Frances was born to be strong for you. But now you're both strong. It's time to put Harley Quinn back together again.

But I'm too scared!

Trust me. Take her back...

On the physical plane, Ragman circled his hips around as they kissed, bringing them both close to coming. On another plane, Harley Quinn took Frances' limpid body into her arms.

Frances' eyes fluttered open and beheld her doppelganger. You!

It's all right, Frances. You don't need to protect me anymore.

Harley Quinn bucked against the golem, feeling her orgasm approach.

I only wanted us to be safe, Frances whispered desperately.

We're safe now. He'll never hurt us again. Harley and Frances hugged, melting into one woman: Harley Quinn.

I want to come in you, Harley Quinn...fill you up with my seed. You'll be mine forever...

"Then I'm yours, Rory," she gasped, bucking against his hardest thrusts yet.

He was tugging at the very core of her, beckoning her to surrender to him completely. As she did, a blinding white orgasm shot through her body and mind. The Ragman stiffened, his resounding grunts vibrating through her as he too climaxed. Harley Quinn could feel his jiz splashing against her internal walls; exquisitely hot and viscous. It dribbled out in a steady stream once he pulled out.

Her body felt like it'd just been through an earthquake or some tremendous seismic event; thighs as wet as if she'd been swimming in the sea. Every muscle was turned to jelly. Harley didn't even smoke and she wanted a cigarette.

"Are you alright?" Rory asked in his normal voice once more: he'd taken off the Cloak of Souls before laying by her side.

"I'm better than alright," she sighed contentedly. There was a calm deeper than that after mere carnal gratification. "Can we try it without the cloak? Just the two of us?" Harley asked, petting his furry chest.

"If you'd like," he replied, kissing her forehead.

"Good." Harley Quinn started going down on Rory again, finding him still at half mast.

"Right now?" he chuckled throatily as her slender fingers and generous mouth worked his manhood so adeptly.

"What do you think?"

Rory definitely had stamina. He was rock hard and pumping her mouth within minutes. "Fuck me, Harley!" he breathed.

"Mmmm...Oh baby, I intend to."

After giving him some nice, slow head, Harley Quinn wanted that superb fuck-stick shoved up her cunt. She straddled him with a broad grin on her face, quickly guiding his cockhead to her entrance. This time Rory was watching in awe as she took in all of his substantial length and girth. He grabbed her by the tits as she started bouncing up and down, the heady aroma of sex rising pleasantly to his nostrils.