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

These weren't the sorts of things Marc could articulate by any means. But something in him could pick up on the way Harley responded to him holding her. It brought up an innate sense of rightness and wanting to keep going that Marc was in no way inclined to examine and possibly never would.

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.

Harley was often bad at picking up where he had walls (even as she walked right through them), but she did notice the moments when there weren't any, and he was like a tidal wave rushing at her.

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.

Marc made an approving sound. Harley holding on meant she wasn't going anywhere, and right now Marc liked that very much.

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.

Oh, as soon his hand was sliding upwards, Harley's back arched in a way that pushed her chest forward, towards the touch. He was very much in the clear with her, there.

The nails of her other hand scratched at the side of his neck, like a promise.

In which case Marc was going to help himself and start to knead that nicely offered (and nice in general) breast. The motion was strong. Not painful, but firm all the same. Much as he'd been holding her.

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.

Harley made her own happy little noise of approval at the kneading. She wasn't a delicate flower - well, not in this respect, anyway - so she could take firm and strong. She could revel in it, even.

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.

There was definite want on Marc's part. Not just physical desire, though there was plenty of that too. But the desire to have. The kind of want that was normally locked away because survival in the day to day didn't allow for it.

But here, here he could hold tight, and nip back at Harley's lips, and murmur things like "Beautiful."

Not bad for a car in an alleyway, huh?

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.

Closer was good. Harley could get as close as she liked. Marc let go of her breast to help encourage this by wrapping his arm back around her and pulling her tight to his chest.

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.

Harley made a predictable whine of protest at his hand moving away, but it was followed by a soft gasp as her chest pressed tight against his, so... Not a bad choice. And definitely served her interest in getting closer.

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.

The feeling of Harley's chest against his had been part of why Marc had been okay with letting go as well. Exchanging one nice sensation for another. And closeness... closeness was good. The hold Harley had on him was even better.

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.

Harley was getting the idea. And also happy to let him claim as much of her mouth as he wanted to. Throwing herself into it, really, like it was breathing, something she genuinely needed to do.

Which was not to say there wasn't plenty of firey want in there, too. No, she was telegraphing that pretty hard, too.

Telegraphing physical want was, of course, a lot easier for Marc since hard took care of a lot of things.

The rest of it, on the other hand, Marc conveyed by claiming her mouth and wrapping his arms around her with one on her shoulders, the other at her hips, and holding her nice and tight. Not cradling by any means. But as much as it could be complete given their position.

For someone who tended to usually be moving a lot regardless of the situation, Harley was doing remarkably great with being held still. Fantastic, even. Happy.

With just a little bit of something restless in her hips, specifically. He was hard underneath her, it was inevitable.

At some point they'd need to do something about what was going on for them both outside of that hold. But for right now Marc liked holding her and kissing her like they had all the time in the world for just that. Drinking in the luxury of it, frankly.

At some point. Probably sooner rather than later, given that Harley's mind wasn't being constrained in any way, and as such, was bouncing around finding all sorts of fun applications of the physical hold he had on her, for the future.

But the way he kept kissing her was very persuasive in keeping her in the moment.

(He won, this clearly wasn't a quickie in an alley.)

Marc finally freed up one hand to roam around her body again. This time going for her other side because he wanted to reset the clock on how long it'd been since he touched her there. Again he stopped with his hand on her breast, this time not waiting for a sign before cupping her and kneading. Also this time trying to give more attention to her nipple, in spite of all the clothes in the way.

Good, he didn't need a sign, he clearly knew what he was doing. At least judging by how much Harley suddenly felt like she wished she'd been wearing at least one layer less - and she was only wearing two, and her shirt wasn't even that thick.

She didn't quite squirm, but... A less tight hold meant a little more room for movement, meant some subtle shifts in pressure. Purely selfishly, of course.

(No it wasn't.)

Harley wasn't the only one thinking about clothing. Especially when those shifts in pressure spawned all sorts of ideas.

"Had to wear pants today," Marc muttered against her lips, meaning her. Not that he'd ever seen her wear a skirt or a dress in the first place. But if they were talking - well thinking about inconvenient layers...

"Don't have any skirts," Harley sighed, with a tiny whine after it, because why would you make her think about the convenience of skirts right now, Marc, huh? Mean. "It coulda been so good..."

"Maybe next time," Marc said, not fully getting that revelation about her wardrobe because, let's face it, he was very much a guy at times. Also it was far more interesting and pleasant to devote his attention and brainpower to teasing her nipple even more.

With some shifting underneath her so they were both possibly inclined to think some more uncharitable thoughts about pants.

Harley wasn't going to bother correcting his thinking about the skirts, either. Not when she could grind down just a little against his shifting and exhale a corresponding moan against his lips.

"We'll... make it work."

Damn pants straight to hell, though. At least the shirt and the bra were more forgiving, letting her feel the warmth of his hand, and him the way the nipple stiffened under it. Just making her more restless, scratching the back of his neck with her nails as payback.

"For now," Marc agreed. Because there was going back to her place after and all the advantages that entailed. Which made it a little bit easier to acknowledge they currently had limitations.

Not limitations that prevented Marc from finally breaking the kiss to move down to kissing and nipping at her neck, though.

"We knew what we were getting into," Harley breathed (and of course she was breathless again), her head immediately tilting to the side to give him better access, the hand at his neck sliding up into his hair. "Wouldn't trade this for a skirt."

And yes, of course she'd babble when nothing was occupying her mouth.

Marc made a non-committal sound. Harley had a way of making him feel like he had no idea what he was getting into at all until he was too far along to do anything but keep going.

Of course, she also had a way of making him glad it had happened. Even, or maybe especially, if he couldn't have predicted it.

But that wasn't worth talking about. Not when he could kiss lower and try to get his mouth around the nipple of her breast that was currently being neglected by his hand. Yes, clothes were still in the way. But that didn't stop some light biting and warm air now, did it?

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