Harley Quinn (
totalwildcard) wrote2024-06-11 02:27 pm
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Causeway Parking Lot to the Mainland; Later Tuesday Afternoon
It might not have ultimately been too much of a surprise which car in the parking lot was Harley's current ride. At least if you happened to know the Chevy Impala was Dean's provided it was even present on Tuesday. The funky 1970s green Chevy Chevelle sedan (four doors, see what she'd said about the back seat?) was of course Harley's: a classic look, but not so flashy as to attract too much attention and immediately get her in trouble as soon as she'd grabbed it from where the very unfortunate previous owner had left it.
Although the main hint that it was hers was still probably that she'd parked her butt on the hood of the thing as she waited for Marc to get there.
Call it a freebie.
(for that guy, continued from here!
Although the main hint that it was hers was still probably that she'd parked her butt on the hood of the thing as she waited for Marc to get there.
Call it a freebie.
(for that guy, continued from here!

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"I know you weren't into alleys --" At least under the specific circumstances she'd proposed in the past "-- but what about when it's a car in an alley?"
Look, she'd realized they were in a pretty quiet part of town and had spotted some promising, secluded alleyways coming up, so the 'instant gratification' part of her brain had to at least make the offer.
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After all, in theory making use of the back seat had sort of been a vague item on the agenda. Plus her hand had felt good. He was only human.
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"Great!"
And she actually took some care slowing down a bit to see into the alleys, because while she didn't have much of a problem with dumpsters otherwise, she didn't want to crash into one or anything. The first alley got dismissed as looking a little too cramped, but the next one? Could easily swallow up the car and still give them a little cover.
Her hand came off him so she could make the turn, but considering why she was making it, he'd live.
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"The things you talk me into," Marc said. Not that he'd needed huge amounts of convincing.
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"One question," she objected, "and a little bit of hand! But hey, just say the word, we can still back out!"
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"You could phrase it as one," she teased. "Or better yet, you can show me."
She leaned in to kiss him. It had been ages since the last one, anyway.
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And she had both hands free now, so one could slide up to the back of his neck to tell him just how welcome he was to kiss her back as hard as he liked, and the other could go back to reminding him how she'd really convinced him into this.
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She made a noise against his mouth at being moved. It did not sound like an objection.
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She could just put the sentiment into returning the kiss, yielding again to just how much he wanted to deepen it.
Whatever he wanted, she wanted to give.
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Regardless, he rocked her up closer to him. Not a movement without heat, but largely about that closeness. One hand moved down to hold her around her waist, the other moved up to cup the back of her neck, both gestures about keeping her secure and near.
As for what he wanted, he wanted to kiss her like he had the ability to do so whenever he wanted and without hesitation. Like there were no barriers to letting himself have her. Which was how he was kissing her now, if that was what she was giving.
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Perfectly intoxicating.
And it just made her cling to him more, her hand finding his hair again, reminding him she could hold on tight to him, too.
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He wasn't going to worry about examining why. It was much better to keep going, acting and feeling and not much else.
Marc moved the hand on her back to start showing his wants there, same as the kissing. And what he wanted was to touch. To move his hand from her back to her hip to her thigh, then up her side to cup at her breast if she let him. Appreciative, but again about letting himself have what she might want to give.
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The nails of her other hand scratched at the side of his neck, like a promise.
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The scratch at his neck got another approving sound out of him. Whether for the gesture or the promise behind it or both wasn't clear. But Marc nipped at her lower lip in reply before resuming their kiss.
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It felt like being wanted.
And teeth on lips was just fun, so she stole some of that for herself, too, somewhere in the middle of things. Just to add something else sharp to the sensation of her nails, leaving faintly reddened but fast-fading marks as they trailed to the back of his neck.
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But here, here he could hold tight, and nip back at Harley's lips, and murmur things like "Beautiful."
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Harley smiled, as much as she could, under the kissing and the nipping. Here, she could accept that word, and others like it, and let them put a warmth inside her that wasn't just confined to any nether regions.
And this time, when she squirmed a little, a lot of the motivation behind it was getting closer. Impulse.
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His hand on the back of her neck gave a light scratch with his fingernails. Not enough to leave a mark, just enough to be felt.
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In fact, her hand slipped away from his neck so she could try and reciprocate even a fraction of the hold he had on her, her arm winding around his shoulders.
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It wasn't the question of being wanted. That was never the kind of thing Marc worried about. But the idea that Harley wanted to be there, in his arms, that was nice. That felt good in a way that again he was not examining. Not when he could deepen the kiss to let her know he liked her right where she was.
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Which was not to say there wasn't plenty of firey want in there, too. No, she was telegraphing that pretty hard, too.
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