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

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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!

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"Oh look at you, gettin' all comfy," Harley teased, her smile curving into more of a smirk, as if she hadn't just shifted with him to accommodate things better.

And as if she didn't read that more in his hips and respond by making sure her thumb in particular moved where it had the most impact, dragging along the underside, brushing over the head.

Marc could tease her back or he could kiss her. Kissing required a lot less words, so he went with that one. Though there was still feedback to be had in the way he groaned and nipped at her lips whenever she touched in him just the right way. Also in how he grew more restless underneath her.

At least Harley was kind enough to lean into it so he didn't have to abandon what she'd just been teasing him about?

Of course, Harley managed to also get a wet lick or two in, against his bottom lip. A tease and a promise all in one.

While her hand kept moving, and clearly taking in the feedback on what he liked.

Some might even say Harley was nice. Though Harley wasn't the one who made a habit of trying to deny that.

Marc moved the hand on her back up to tangle in her hair, holding her close for kisses that got hungrier the more her hand around him did its thing. The kiss also suggested that what thoughts Marc had at the moment entirely involved things he could do to her, or she to him, and what they didn't get to in the car was going on the list for when they were back at her place.

Maybe they wouldn't have time for all of them, but they could certainly try.

Harley could've sworn she'd had a plan for a second, there, but his hunger was so persuasive she found the pace of her hand getting a little quicker in response. Because the only thing that could distract her from him right now was apparently... him.

Oh and there was the little whimpery noise she made against his mouth, too. Terribly sorry about that.

It kind of worked out in that the thing distracting Marc from her was her. He'd nothing against the plan, was very much looking forward to it. But as long as her mouth was right there in front of him Marc was going to take advantage of it.

Though the increased pace of her hand did get him to occasionally pull back just enough to try to catch his breath even as he kept moving to get more of that contact.

Did he know it was magical to see him like this? Because Harley thought so, even in her fragmented glimpses every time he caught his breath. Just him -- letting himself feel good.

It nudged something in Harley's brain back to an earlier track. "'S much as I would... just love to see ya explode all over your lap," she breathed, "you wanna ponytail my hair for me?"

Her hair was in low twin pigtails - or at least most of it was. Curiously enough, a lot had escaped the hairbands holding it, especially in the back of her head. Either way, her hair was getting long enough it was gonna get in the way for what she planned to be doing in just a few moments, and well, she had at least one very occupied hand.

Marc was not thinking about how he looked. Because doing so required thinking about how he felt. And if he thought about how he felt there was a too high likelihood that he'd put a stop to that.

On the other hand a request he could do. That it was one which would ultimately benefit him was a bonus. As was the way the request itself gave him an excuse to move his fingers lightly along her neck to gather up her hair. And then once he had her hair held securely in one hand he leaned in to kiss her neck as far back as he could reach.

Making sure he'd gotten everything, of course.

Of course.

Harley gave a happy shiver in response, and a snicker. "Good," she breathed, and just to sell that, gave him a particularly all-encompassing stroke. "Now, I'm gonna have to get off ya, but you'll like that. Just hold on."

Marc might've made a comment about how he couldn't hold on and let her move. But that stroke of her hand made words, much like himself, very hard.

There was a sound halfway between a grunt and a moan though, so that was something.

"Glad you understand," Harley replied cheerfully to his noise.

And then sadly let go of him, so she could move off of his lap, just careful and slow enough to not make him yank on her hair (there was a time for everything!). She didn't go far, though, just right beside him on the seat, and her hand returned to him about as fast.

She considered being a tease, for about the length of a breath. And then looked at how wonderfully hard he was, and decided, nah. The sole bit of teasing was the way she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, right before leaning over his lap.

And taking him right on in, like he was possibly some kind of treat she had an urge to savor - an impression that was only sold further by the muffled little moan around him. It wasn't even just for show, Harley was just... very, very into him right now.

Nope, no yanking. A tightening of his hand to go with the low groan he gave when the wet heat of her mouth surrounded him, but nothing like a pull. Even as diamond hard as he was, blood going nowhere above his waist, Marc didn't that Harley had come off a relationship with an abusive prick masquerading as a man. So Marc wasn't going to do anything that might remotely trigger a bad memory for her, no matter how turned on he was.

(Now if she wanted certain things done that was different. But that was for her to initiate, not him to demand.)

But all that was background. Things Marc didn't even need to think about, he just did. His conscious thoughts, such as they were, were zeroed on on how good her mouth felt, and how that moan did some very nice things that got him groaning in return.

There was probably stuff to talk about and boundaries to establish, but it could wait until some time when there was at least a semblance of clear-headedness present. For now, it was best to just err on the side of caution.

On that front.

Because Harley definitely wasn't doing that too much with how deep she took him practically straight away. Sure, this sideways angle wasn't the best and meant there were some limitations to what she could do, but also she could literally do this upside down and didn't have much in the way of an easily triggered gag reflex left, so...

So, yes. She could really put in the work of enveloping as much of him as she could on the way down, then hollowing out her cheeks a little on the pull back. She meant business, goddammit!

Marc was not complaining about the angle. Far as he was concerned she was doing a great job right where she was - no pun intended - and could keep on going. A tension built inside of him, but it was the right kind. The kind that got him moving to seek out more of her mouth when she pulled back, and Marc saying things that weren't really sentences or possibly even words, but which sounded highly complimentary.

Oh, Harley knew she was doing good when his hips went chasing her mouth. And she could reward that, too, making those upwards movements more shallow, and using them more to her advantage for trying to use her tongue in ways that echoed those of her thumb, earlier.

His noises were pretty and she wanted more of them. Call her greedy.

Harley was getting a whole lot more of those noises, particularly now that she'd added in that movement of her tongue. Marc's hand kneaded at the back of her neck as much as he could without letting her hair go.

In addition to the noises Marc did manage some words. Not sentences, but things like "That's it" and "Damn you're beautiful" and so on.

Clearly one of them had to pick up the slack, now that Harley's often babbly mouth was fully occupied. Best she could do was a happy hum in return.

Maybe two. For good luck?

She kept going. Maybe picking up the pace just a little. Getting his length a little slick as she did, because she wasn't afraid to be a little wet and messy, ever.

The humming was good something, that was for sure. Though it did briefly derail Marc's ability to talk. There was a hiss of breath that more coherency might have made an appreciative "Fuck" but it was mainly just noise.

There was more movement though, because damn her mouth felt good (and there were noises to that effect as well). Nothing demanding, nothing painful, just trying to be in sync with what she was doing as that tension in him continued to build.

He had all of Harley's focus to a point where she wasn't even fantasizing about later in the background of her mind. She was just purely here, in the tactile sensations of the shape and weight of him in her mouth, the faint but welcome strain in her jaw, the way he dragged against her tongue and the roof of her mouth on every movement she made.

Listening to his noises and eagerly moving with him as best she could. Trying to encourage --

Actually, she could pull off him just for a second, just for a big gasp of a breath and a, "Come on, you can still fuck me a little bit."

And back down she went, with that invitation. She could take a little more than what he was already daring to give.

Again that got a huff of laughter for her directness. And hey, if she was going to - well not ask, she'd flat out said it. Either way Marc was going to take her up on it and start thrusting into her mouth.

Not as hard and pounding as he'd start out if actually fucking her, but not shy either. More getting a feel for what both of them could manage with this angle. And even if this was as far as it went, it was clear Marc felt it was pretty damn good.

Harley made what sounded suspiciously like one of her little 'eep!' noises, only completely garbled around him. And not a complaint.

It took her a moment to adjust, keeping her own movements shallow to have a little more control over the angle. But it didn't take long at all, really, before it was clear she was just fine and could take it. Maybe a little bit more, even.

She was certainly still sucking him down like an absolute champ. Eager to bring him higher.

The sucking was great. Marc maybe said something to that effect. Or positive sounds that meant to convey the same thing.

Once he and Harley had figured out the new dynamics, Marc started thrusting harder. Not so much that he was trying to choke her, but so he could get more of that incredible suction, and her lips, and her tongue...

And he was definitely getting closer to the edge.

Harley would have grinned if not, well. Had this not been taking up the entirety of her attention.

As it was, she still managed a noise around him that conveyed something similar, a low moan that really just turned into more vibrations, especially since he happened to be buried deep near her throat when it happened. Harley would have claimed credit for the timing regardless of whether it was a happy accident or not.

She could take even less genuine credit for her other noises which were mostly down to wetness and movement, and the added harshness of his thrusts she was accepting fully because she could tell he was getting closer, and that? That was apparently a giant turn-on for her. He'd been waiting since the Fandom parking lot, and Harley really wanted him to have a climax to match that.

Her lips were really going to be feeling this later.

Maybe Marc could kiss them better later?

For right now though Marc's world was everything she was doing to him, and soon enough the movement of his hips got harder and sharper. His hand on the back of her neck tightened and with a sound like he'd been hit with a cannonball to the gut Marc finally came, his vision swimming white in the process.

Yes, yes, yes, success!

And Harley, of course, with her singular devotion to the task at hand (so to speak) sucked him through it. Every drop, figuratively and literally.

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