totalwildcard | Apartment Above Needful Things; Later Friday

Entry tags:

apartment,
marc

Apartment Above Needful Things; Later Friday

It was not as dusty in the upstairs apartment as it had been the last time Marc had been up there. Like, sure, it was still dusty in places because Harley and her attention span had prioritized the spots that she actually used on a daily basis, but still! The living room slash kitchen space that they entered into from the stairs was actually looking lived in now, with stuff like cereal packages and coffee on the kitchen counters and some empty takeaway cartons littering the coffee table Harley had hauled up from the store.

Hey, the narrative had said it wasn't that dusty anymore, not anything about there being no mess. It wasn't too bad, anyway, there was just a little bit of clutter!

So far.

Whatever, Harley had put some personal touches in. Some eclectic decor pieces around the place, a pop art style painting on one of the walls, that sorta thing. (And a taxidermy beaver in a tutu on the counter, but Beaver wasn't decor.)

"Well, here we are!" Harley announced. "I promise this place isn't as much of a sneezing hazard anymore."

(for that guy, continued from here! NSFW)

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Marc had no problem with Harley looking or touching. He even held himself up enough so she could have a good angle for it.

Depending on how observant she was it might be the first time she noticed that the necklace he and Steven always wore was a silver Star of David, given that it tended to naturally fall under their shirt collars. Not purposefully hidden, just often not easy to see other than the chain peeking out.

As for Harley's view, there were those muscles as well as smooth, completely bare skin. No tattoos anywhere, but also no scar tissue. The only marks on him were any that Harley had made that afternoon.

"Better than you imagined?" he asked. Not insecure. Genuinely curious.

It was hard to imagine Marc insecure, anyway. At least about something like this.

And yes, Harley clocked the Star of David, and put it together with a fuzzy recollection of a twitch she'd thought she'd noticed earlier, in an 'oh so there's Significance here' kind of way. Probably best to stay away from that for now, she figured.

Anyway, there had been a question? "Yes, she breathed, excitably, raking her nails slowly down along the center of his chest. "You're so hot." Not news, not a surprise, still worth saying!

"Gotta keep up with you," Marc said. Which, yanno, didn't really make sense but the sentiment was that since he was enjoying his view right now, it worked out nicely if she was enjoying hers as well.

He shifted into her again. Not rushing her. Just letting her know he was enjoying her touch as well.

It didn't need to make sense for Harley to preen a bit regardless!

And yes, while the sentiment clearly wasn't about rushing her, it did draw some of her attention a little further down. "God, we're gonna have to get you outta those pants real soon."

Just, in a moment. She was busy tracing a spiral around one of his nipples with a nail.

Marc was very much for getting the rest of his clothes out of the way. But if she was going to do that with her hands he was going to move in to kiss her breathless again.

Sure he could say something to indicate he liked it. But it couldn't be a surprise anymore that Marc preferred action to words.

It wasn't, and Harley was beginning to learn to read his reactions for what they were.

Not that this one was a particularly subtle one, with all its fervor. Which Harley was also feeding right back to him, both in the kiss and in pressing her nails more firmly into his skin as they dragged along it. He clearly liked it, so why not kick up the intensity?

Harley's response got something like a growl out of Marc. Which could technically count as some kind of verbal feedback. But it was accompanied by him biting at her lips and rocking into her again, so really it was more about the physical. Her enthusiasm, her touch - he wanted more of it.

Jesus.

Oh, if he was going to be like that, Harley was goimg to have to start multitasking. She could have one hand scratching the hell out of his chest, while the other slid down to do its level best undoing his pants. Stuttery and distracted, but even a little bit of progress was still progress.

On the plus side at least there was nothing too complicated about it? No belt. One button and a zip fly. And a pair of black boxer briefs underneath if Harley got that far.

Of course, while Marc had no problem with her getting that far and removing the rest of his clothes entirely, he did keep kissing her hungrily. So it could be argued that once again he was getting in his own way here.

Yeah, there was no way Harley was getting that far. Best she could really do was fumbling the button open (honestly pretty impressive, one-handed and without seeing a damn thing), then work the fly down only to get distracted by the kiss again.

So it could be said he was also getting in Harley's way.

Very impressive, all things considered.

Arguably also helpful, because the feeling of Harley's hand was something Marc was beyond wanting and in fact needed more of. Which meant he bucked up into it, briefly breaking the kiss as now he needed some air.

Oh, if he was going to be like that, what was poor Harley to do except cup him, firmly, through whatever fabric that still managed to be in the way?

Yes, poor Harley, doing something that had been on her mind since probably the first time she'd felt him pressing against her.

That got a strangled "Fuck - " out of Marc as Harley's hands rapidly got added to the list of things he'd be thinking about when all this was over.

He thrust forward, his eyes dark as he looked at her like she was no longer a steak but an entire banquet he wanted to devour.

Harley was smirking up at him like she felt power in the palm of her hand.

(Which really worked in more ways than one.)

She made sure to use the thrust to really trace out the shape of him with her fingers, the aforementioned palm providing the pressure and the friction, like an echo of what he'd been giving her before.

"Look who's all excited."

Not a complaint, not even a little bit.

As Harley traced, she'd find that Marc's necklace had given an accurate clue about the shape her fingers were discovering.

(Also the feel of her hand was driving him crazy. Well, crazier than his usual.)

Marc was about to joke that surely him wanting her this bad couldn't be a surprise. But luckily there was still enough blood going to his brain that he remembered oh wait, it had been. So he immediately changed that plan and instead said, "Can you blame a guy, Doc? You've been on my mind a long damn time."

After the week before? 'Surprise' almost seemed like an understatement.

"Oh, a long damn time?" Harley purred, working him over a little more through the fabric. A little more pressure here, an insistent brush of her thumb there.

See, she could drive people a little batty in good ways, too!

Marc leaned in to grin against her lips. "Feeling longer by the second."

No pun intended.

Harley bit at his grin just because she could.

Then her hand slid away from playing with him - but not far: she just needed both hands for starting to push his pants and boxer briefs down. "These need to go now," she announced, "I'm tired of them."

Look, if there was the tiniest sound of disappointment when her hand moved away you could not blame a guy.

It was for a good cause, though, so Marc moved and assisted as needed to help in getting the rest of his clothes off. The resulting view was like the rest of him: no tattoos, no scar tissue.

Though this time there was now the benefit of also seeing that Marc was enjoying himself, and he was enjoying himself very much.

And that was just --

"Beautiful," Harley sighed, with the sort of an admiring gaze that looked like she wasn't just saying that. And also like she'd unlocked at least five new things to think about later just by looking at him.

Though of course now she had to turn her attention elsewhere, but that too was for a good cause. She turned and reached (well, stretched, even) for the little bedside table. On top were a few books, an abandoned sex toy, a box of tissues - you know, the usual! - but she opened the drawer to rummage around in it, not really being able to see into it, but she didn't need to.

"Hold on, got some rubbers right here -"

Which may or may not have been pilfered from Atton. She hadn't really had much cause lately to keep stocked up.

"Glad you like," Marc said. Again, not that his own looks were ever something he gave much thought to. But that didn't mean it wasn't nice to know the person you were getting naked with enjoyed the view.

Marc appreciated Harley being prepared here because not like he'd had the foresight to bring something. (Also the awkwardness of having to ask to get some from Steven's stash if he'd had.) Plus her turning and reaching meant he was getting more of a view of Harley's back. So Marc showed his appreciation for both things by starting to kiss along what parts of her there he could reach.

It was in Harley's best interest that the back of the shoulder that had perhaps the most incriminating tattoo of all was pressing into the mattress in a way that concealed said ink. She didn't need to be thinking about that, not right now, especially not when Marc was kissing new parts of her body and she was under dire risk of getting distracted into trying to bait more of that.

And then her fingers closed around the right thing, and she pulled her arm back, flopping back down onto the mattress, triumphantly holding up a few foil packets between her fingers. "Got 'em!"

Yes, a few. Better to be prepared for whatever happened than to have to go fishing for more if the need arose!

"Good," Marc said. Looking at her expression the whole time, he slid his hand down the middle over chest, over her stomach, then turned it around and dipped lower to see if he could get a feel of how much she was enjoying herself. "'cause if we're talking things I'd like to stop thinking about..."

Harley was smiling up at him, and shivered happily under his touch before he even made it all the way down her body. And yes, once there, he would find it was easy to tell just how much she was and had been enjoying herself.

Hope he enjoyed slippery fingers.

"Didn't get these out for blowing 'em into balloons," Harley sighed, distracted.

Marc possibly deserved a medal for not getting too distracted by the idea of Harley blowing anything. Then again lack of distraction here did have its own rewards. Because he didn't mind what he was feeling at all, which he indicated with a circular caress of his hand before trying to see if he could slip one finger inside her.

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