Author's Note: I wasn't planning to update this fic, but my need for smut got the best of me. Like always.
For my re-visiting readers: I have more Joker/Harley fics planned out and eventual updates to my previous one-shots, but due to schoolwork I won't be able to publish them as quickly as before.

Also; I'd like to make this clear on before-hand. This is going to be twisted. They both are sadomasochistic psychopaths who get off from inflicting and receiving pain. They cannot be compared to a normal couple. This is all consensual.
Warnings: Rough sex. Blood & knife play. Enjoy!

He strokes my kitty cat
Just like it's his pet
That's how I get the boys
I get 'em obsessed

You're too beige
And I need black and blue
I want it black and blue!

.

A game is not complete without a winner. The final act that seals the victory.

To Harley, the games were dragged out into different acts, ending in the great finale. Her reward and her punishment, all together.

She breathed faster in anticipation, hardly able to keep still as she sat beside the Joker in the car. They left the central city behind and the streets progressively grew emptier. They always avoided the main roads in order to not run into the Bat - except for when the Bat was a part of the game.

Once there were no more people available to run over or shoot, his laughter had died away. The way his jaw was locked tight as he drove, aggressively as always, told Harley what to expect. Pride swelled in her chest; she had edged him on enough. She had rarely seen him so worked up even after leaving the club.

When they got into the penthouse, he turned to her, snarling. The maniacal look in his eyes told her just how bothered he was.

"Had fun tonight?" the Joker asked, breathing heavily.

Harley wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood unmoving, kissing him feverishly. When he pulled apart she giggled. "It's much funnier with you," she whispered sweetly into his ear. They were finally alone and she was getting her prize.

He growled, no doubt reminded of the other, now deceased men she had seduced in a similar manner. He pulled her into their large bedroom and roughly ripped her shimmering golden dress off her. She stood in front of him only in her red satin panties that didn't leave much to imagination.

He moved to pick up his toys. "Puddin'..." He froze when she flexed her pale body and moaned for him. Harley took advantage of his reaction and pushed him down onto the large, purple silk-sheeted bed. She was not only playing with fire; she was basically pouring gasoline on it and jumping in.

"You know you're my one and only, Mr. J," she breathed. She straddled him and slowly started rubbing her ass down on him as he groaned. She swiftly unbuttoned his white shirt. Eagerly she let her fingers trail down his tattoos, grazing the large "JOKER" tattoo and the wide-grinned mouth on his lower abdomen. He was so hard for her.

As he sat up, Harley ground her hips harder against his. He gritted his teeth and grasped her waist. She felt the heat between her legs intensify.

Sometimes he was sweet with her, taking his time between her legs until she was almost out of her mind. Sometimes he focused on her only; he never tired, he could go on all night. Sometimes he held her softly, kissed her sweetly and moved slowly.

And sometimes, he fucked her hard.

Pleasure was the best when it was framed by a rough edge of pain. She was dripping already by the sound of his rough breathing. She really had gone too far this time.

He threw her onto the bed, face first, and took a hold of her neck as he pushed her down. She giggled as her panties were discarded with a slash of his favorite knife. Mr. J spread her legs all the way, growling deeply in his throat. Harley knew it would be painful, and the anticipation was driving her mad. She rubbed her crotch into the mattress and exposed her bare backside to him.

"Come on, Puddin'!"

She heard the rustling sound when he swiftly removed the rest of his clothes and picked out his toys. A moment later a switchblade was pressed into her backside as he straddled her. She couldn't help but moan, butterflies in her stomach, as his weight pushed her down.

Whatever he decided to do to her, she wanted it. Every hickey was a medal of pride.

The blade grazed her skin at first, just trailing an invisible path. The Joker pushed into her body with a growl; his hard member always filled her to the core. It stretched her open, and she clenched her inner muscles around him only to hear him groan.

His thrusts were sharp, like the blade, precise and strong. He pounded into her and she grasped the sheets, gasping.

The knife pressed sharply into her back and she could feel the slow, delicious sting when the skin broke and a warm rush took over. It was only a small cut, but enough to make her want more. Harley laughed as his hips collided with hers, forcing him even deeper inside of her.

She shouldn't have laughed, she realized carelessly. He wasn't in the mood.

He suddenly turned her around so she was lying on her back, facing him. Both his hands were around her neck, his fingertips touching her jugular for a moment, before he cut off her air supply. His hold was firm, golden rings pressing into her skin. It increased her pleasure, as his hips brutally snapped into hers, cock pounding her relentlessly. His pace was quick and smooth, perfectly balanced.

The world started spinning in front of Harley, black dots appearing, and the heat between her thighs intensified until she thought she'd explode all over him. He had one hand around both of her wrists before she could act on her desire, slamming them against the headboard and holding them there with a bruising grip.

His ripped body on top of her, covering her, drilled her into the mattress. Just as she was about to pass out, his hand left her throat and she happily gasped for for air. He growled into her ear.

It was just about to begin.

Harley licked her lips, still gasping with every move he made, his ragged pants and the way his hips dominated her. The madness in his grey eyes took her so much higher.

Still holding her arms high above her head with a gloved hand, his other hand reached for her soaked folds. Harley arched her back, crying out as he touched her. "Ah, Puddin'!"

His hand immediately withdrew and he bared his teeth.

"Please," she moaned.

He growled. "Say it, Harls. Who do you belong to? "

She threw her head back. "Only you, Mr. J. I'm yours."

"And?" he breathed huskily.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty please – ah, ah – please."

His free hand moved down to her clit again and started rubbing it with rough movements. His nails pinched her most sensitive spot it until the searing pain dominated between her hips. He moved in and out of her, slower than before.

Finally, she saw the anger in his eyes give way for pure, untamed lust. "You're so good." His touch turned softer and he circled and massaged her clit until she was on the edge, whimpering and crying out loudly. She was sure the henchmen in the other rooms could hear them.

He shifted and placed her arms on either side of her head, gripping her forearms as he proceeded to fuck her hard. Harley locked eyes on the tattoo by his collarbone, reaching up to lick it. The way he growled and grunted was driving her closer by the minute. He kept up the raging pace, his energy as violent as ever.

"You are mine," he snarled with a particular deep snap of his hips.

She sought his lips desperately and he responded, kissing her with force.

He suddenly stilled; he had changed his mind again. She waited, panting, and saw him reach for something – his favorite toy next to his pretty purple .45. She smiled breathlessly in anticipation as he gave it to her.

Time for the last act.

She licked the sharp blade from base to top as he watched, made love to it with her tongue until the taste of blood filled her mouth. She was so skilled with whatever she decided to suck; twisted and turned the blade in her mouth, dipped the tip of her tongue repeatedly against the top.

All the while she looked at him, her eyes teasing him beyond crazy. She gave the blade a slow, long lick and the possessiveness boiled in him. If anyone else ever saw this look in her face, he would skin them alive. He growled and took the knife from her.

"Hold still," he snarled and moved down to her lower belly. She complied with a moan, her hands entangling in his hair.

The pain was momentarily distracting, but the fingers of his free hand slipped into her hot, slick warmth. He pressed into her from the inside, making her hips tremble.

Harley knew the rules: she couldn't come before he told her to, or she'd taste the blade for real. His green head, slick with sweat, covered his work from her sight but she felt it, just below her naval. She was about to become his very own piece of art.

She waited, whimpering as his fingers abused and caressed her from the inside. He pressed his nail into her inner channel and she gasped.

"Good girl," he purred, suddenly smiling wickedly.

The small letter that now adorned her lower abdomen, still bright red with blood gushing out, would be so much prettier tomorrow. Harley bit her lip and looked straight into his eyes as he withdrew his fingers and moved up again. His face was concentrated, satisfied with his work of art.

"Come on, Puddin'," she begged. "Don't hold back."

His eyes narrowed and he thrust into her again; she felt her body pressed back against the headboard with a neck-cracking force. His arms encircled her as his hips pounded her even harder than before. She wrapped her legs around his hips and squeezed her inner walls around him.

"Come for Daddy." His mouth was on her neck, metallic teeth against her skin. As he bit down, she couldn't hold it any longer. She moaned as she came all over him, dizziness taking over. The orgasm shook her entire body and she cried out from the force.

Finally, his teeth left her throat and he licked the wound with a satisfied groan. Harley gasped; pain all over, just to feel his body almost pound her down to the floor.

He leaned in and bit her lower lip hard as he finally came. His body tensed up and his eyes fluttered shut, his arms tightened around her. He grunted as he filled her up, his warm seed coating her insides. She rocked her hips weakly into his.

He remained on top of her for a while, still holding her tightly. Stuck in a blissful haze, Harley wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. She wanted to stay like that; warm and filled to the brim. Morning light was peeking in through the curtains.

He grumbled when he noticed her cuts still bleeding. Despite her pouting protests, he got off her to get the clean cloths and antiseptic they kept for this particular purpose. Harley narrowed her eyes as he returned with the supplies.

"Come back to bed, Puddin'," she complained, stretching her bruised body lazily.

"Turn around," he commanded and she instantly turned on her belly.

Harley felt the cold sensation of the liquid being applied to her cut, followed by gentle pressure. He covered the wound with a compress. They both knew she'd rip it off as soon as she had the chance, but The Joker didn't like his favorite toy to bleed more than necessary.

When he was finished she turned around and adored the little 'J' he had cut, right above her "Lucky You" tattoo. As usual, his handiwork was flawless; despite her trembling he managed to cut out the letter perfect, in an ornamented style. She watched as he cleaned the wound with precision. It would leave a brilliant, glowing scar, because he'd cut it up again.

The Joker leaned over her and grazed her earlobe with his teeth. "From now on," his hand placed on the cut, "You only play games with me," he breathed, a dangerous hint to his tone. It told her all to well that the next persons who looked at her would suffer.

Harley grinned widely and arched her body, her hands trailing to his lower back. Insatiable.

"Let's play again."

Please leave a review!