totalwildcard | Causeway Parking Lot to the Mainland; Later Tuesday Afternoon

Harley was the sort of person who could sometimes thrive on funishment, so why not both, as the word suggested?

Made her hiss a little, then laugh. That worked.

"Oh, do that again."

She could entice him with another grind, trying to mimic the way he's yanked her to him, as best as she could.

Marc could take a request. Though he licked at the spot he'd just bitten before biting again, a little harder this time.

Hey, no fair! Harley's eyes fluttered closed with the lick, and then she gasped loud for the bite.

... Wait, no, definitely fair, actually.

Marc followed that up with sucking and licking at the spot. Nowhere near hard enough to leave a mark even on her pale skin. Just enough to soothe any lingering pain from the bite.

And Harley was feeling real soothed, of course. It did not at all send a shiver slithering down her spine.

Promise.

Her hand rubbed idly at his chest. Well, 'idly' - sorta feeling up his muscles, really.

Something about the vibe of it all didn't ease Marc's hunger exactly, but did make it less sharp. More of a thrum in his pulse than a single, keening need.

Marc slowly trailed his lips back to Harley's mouth. He kissed her again, but this time long, and wet. A slow stoking of an existing fire instead of exploding it with gasoline.

Well, he was with Harley, after all: to put it nicely, the mood around her was a living, breathing thing. Less nicely, it was something unpredictable that could turn on a dime.

Sometimes it was this.

And this, now, felt like being savored. Which, yes, absolutely stoked an existing fire, but also lit another one, something a little more fluttery.

She gave him back what she got, her hand still slowly roaming like it couldn't get enough of how solid he felt under her touch.

Marc's hands didn't go roaming. He still wanted to protect her head from the roof after all. But his other hand started kneading her shapely backside as he resumed pulling her closer as he rocked up into her. Slower. Not a tidal wave but a steady and regular lapping of the tide.

Harley needed no roaming if she could have that instead. There wasn't much that could center her for long, but, well. There was a lovely sort of insistence in something steady and repeating, sometimes.

And he knew she could follow a lead. Sometimes.

This time. Letting him move her, while her hand strayed from his chest to his shoulder, to his upper arm. Doing a little kneading of its own.

Marc didn't mind that touch. In a way he sort of mirrored it, going in the opposite direction that she did as he moved away from her mouth and slowly kissed along her neck and jawline.

When he got to her ear he whispered, "We're supposed to be having dinner."

Though he followed that with a nip to her earlobe so it was debatable how much that was a conversational opener compared to an observation.

Harley had an opinion about that, either way: "Who gives a rat's shitty, cheese-munching ass about 'supposed to'?" she sighed, head tipping back just a little bit.

Eloquent as always.

Marc couldn't help it. He gave a bark of laughter. He tried to cover it up - purely from a volume perspective, he was right by her ear after all - but was not entirely successful. He ended up resting his forehead against her shoulder, still laughing, while managing a, "Damn it, Harley - "

But sort of marveling, not complaining.

"What?" Harley squawked, her feigned indignance undercut but how amused she sounded. Like she almost broke into a snicker in the middle of a single-syllable word. "You know it's true, Marc, you do!"

"You're just so - " Marc started and then had to stop because he didn't have words. Instead he sat back enough that he could look at Harley and shake his head. Again not remotely disapproving. He even had a smile on his face that showed it.

"Fantabulous?" Harley suggested, raising her eyebrows.

She was smiling too (well, grinning, actually), but that was a little more expected.

"And if that one doesn't work out, I got others!"

"Well now I wanna hear them," Marc said, still grinning at her.

Harley just looked even more gleeful. "Wonderful," she started. "Superb. Marvelous. Fantastic, obviously. Sensational!"

Her head tilted a little. "Superlative," a little nod, "excellent, and exquisite, too. Crackerjack, I really like that one!"

Her head tilted further, in time with her eyebrows going all the way up, as high as they could go. "Ooh, ooh, and the cat's pajamas, that's the best one!"

Marc listened to all of that, again enjoying the view. Enjoying it for different reasons than before, but then again not that different.

"Harley," he said. Then, to clarify, "as a word. Nobody else is like you."

Harley brightened in a different way. Not smug-proud, maybe just... proud-proud?

(That was definitely a thing.)

"Well damn straight no one is," she agreed. "Just think of all the trouble they would have to go through to even get close!"

"Don't think anyone could manage it," Marc said. "Pale imitation."

No pun intended. It was Marc after all.

Harley had him covered!

"And never quite as pale as me."

Marc dropped the hand on her head down to caress her cheek. "Still pretty colorful."

Harley's head tilted into it, even as her lips pulled into a smirk. "Not with my clothes off."

Look, she had to.

"Depends on where you're looking," Marc countered without missing a beat.

"Well I guess if someone wants to just stare at my arm and not peruse around..."

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