totalwildcard | Needful Things Building; Monday

Entry tags:

apartment,
marc

Needful Things Building; Monday

The Dream House was gone by morning, replaced again with the antique store and the apartment above it, both with all four walls intact, and the color scheme decidedly less pink.

And in said apartment, late in the morning, Harley woke up with a start. Like fully bolting upright and everything, with a gasp.

"... Barbie looks like me."

She couldn't believe it. She brought her hands up to her face, smooshing her cheeks.

"Like me."

This jaw! These cheekbones under her skin!

Something about it was making her eyes well up.

At least, until something else about the weekend came back to her. "Bruce!" Oh, God, he'd been eating something obviously plastic, all weekend long! Harley scrambled out of bed to find him - only to, yes, find him curled up in one of his usual spots, seemingly right as rain.

She still ended up taking him on a long walk around town. It took a while for her to be convinced that just as magically as he'd turned into a toy dog for the weekend, whatever the plastic stuff he'd been eating (and, to be fair, pooping out at what seemed like an alarming rate for a fully functioning gastric system) had just as magically turned into actually edible stuff in his guts when he'd turned back. He seemed fine! He was leaving behind dog shit that was the usual level of disgusting!

Still, between the long walk and then breakfast for both him and herself, the morning had already turned into the afternoon by the time something occurred to Harley, and sent her bolting down the stairs into the store.

There, she found the display of dolls of varying ages and kinds.

And there, tucked near the back, was a Barbie. Harley carefully pulled her out from between a Victorian-ish porcelain doll and a fairly creepy 1950s baby, and smiled down at her.

It was a little watery, but there was no one here to see it, was there?

"Oh, there you are."

Something in her chest ached a little.

(expecting one!)

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Harley's hands were sliding up his thighs to the top of his pants almost immediately, which was an answer all by itself.

Of course, she still said, "Perfect," as she went to peel said pants and his boxers down and out of her way.

Once she did, it was clear Harley had Marc's attention. So to speak.

"Now where?" Marc asked. He caressed her cheek - the right one, with the tattoo.

Harley nuzzled into the caress a little, like she couldn't help herself.

But she said, "Right here, baby."

Her fingers closed around the base of his length, helping to guide him when she leaned in for a teasing lick or two, or three. Still looking up at him, and kind of hoping his hand wouldn't pull away too soon.

His hand didn't pull away. It cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as it did.

"Yeah you are," he murmured. Yes, she'd been talking about him being right there. But she was there, and her tongue was warm, and he liked her where she was.

It was funny: there had been a time in the not too distant past where Harley had sworn to herself she wouldn't be getting on her knees for any guy again. It had already turned out a while ago, now, that the kneeling wasn't actually the part that mattered most, but whether the guy could be counted on to offer her a hand up after. Metaphorically or physically.

There was trust here. Again.

And Harley was smiling up at him, as the licks turned into kisses, first with her lips together, then parted, letting different parts of him feel how warm her mouth was, how wet, a promise of something that would soon follow.

Marc smiled down at her. Not ear to ear, it was Marc. But pleased. His eyes were dark as he watched her. He continued to caress her cheek with his thumb. A rasp could be heard in his breathing as she got him warmer and warmer.

"Looking good," he said. It wasn't about her being on her knees. There was a lot of trust going both ways here.

"Not half bad, huh?" Harley teased. Would she have (correctly) attributed the increase in her own pulse to the simple, reassuring pleasure his hand on her face? Hard to say.

A longer lick along his skin followed, getting it wet.

"At least half good," Marc replied. Then there wasn't much talking as she elicited a grunt of pleasure from him and his hand tightened on her cheek.

Both of those things made Harley smirk. Best she could under the circumstances, anyway.

There was a bit of a swirl of her tongue at the end of the lick. Followed by her going for another one along a different strip of his skin - though that one didn't end in another swirl.

Well.

Not until after she'd guided him right past her lips and into her oh so welcoming mouth, anyway.

That warmth and wetness got a much more pronounced groan out of Marc. He moved his hand back to her hair since it was an easier angle for the both of them to work with when her mouth was full. Not grabbing or pushing. Just resting. Still watching her.

His noises were the best, and Harley would have told him so had she not been so invested in trying to draw more of them out of him. She didn't get too deep just yet, choosing instead to lave some sensitive spots with extra attention with the tip of her tongue.

And, hey, she still had a hand free, too! That one ended up sliding up, and underneath his shirt. Seeking to touch more skin.

"Want that off too?" Marc asked. It'd require taking his hand off of her for a few seconds but hey, there wasn't too much reciprocity he could do from this angle. Couldn't hurt to offer what he could.

Harley's little head shake was very slight, for obvious reasons. Her hand rubbed over his stomach as if to further say she was already getting what she wanted, because what she wanted was very simple and also was kind of fun to her with his shirt still on.

Also so that he might not have the capacity to wonder about it any further, she got him to push deeper into her mouth. Dragging her tongue along him all the way, of course, becauae she was no amateur.

Marc would've made some kind of comment to show he understood about the shirt. But then he was further in her mouth and coherence was briefly out the window. He maybe said something that could've been "Nice" but possibly it was a sharp exhale as he felt more of her mouth around him.

His hand got tighter on her hair though. Not painful, but letting her know he liked where she was.

Harley so badly wanted to smirk up at him, but she was only barely still able to even look up at him. So, he would just have to infer her smugness from other things.

Like this pleased little hum around him, for instance. The vibrations through him were of course just a happy accidental by-product and not her giving herself more reasons to be smug.

Would she be smug about Marc making his own hum in response? Because that's what she got out of him. Along with him moving his hips to get more of that sensation.

Harley was smug about any good reaction she got out of him, so... Yes.

She also took his movement as encouragement to get started on finding a rhythm to move in, which he was more than welcome to join her in. Yanno, teamwork.

Marc gave another hum when she started moving. It was harder - ahem - to keep his eyes open when there was the temptation to get lost in the feeling of her mouth. But Harley looked so good he tried to keep watching.

He cupped the back of her head as he moved with her. Not manipulating the pace. A counter balance for his own movements.

It was pretty easy for Harley to take the weight of his hand the way it was meant. So when it seemed to increase her enthusiasm, that was by her own choice. She found a comfortable pace soon enough, not too slow, not too rowdy, but each movement deep and focused in the way she could be when the motivation was right.

She'd given up on trying to look up at him, but the hand under his shirt pushed higher. Her fingers fanned out against the center of his chest.

The placement vaguely over his heart was purely by chance, for sure.

So way the way Marc put his free hand over hers. Just saying hi, or something.

Given the placement, Harley would likely feel his heart beating faster. Much like his breathing grew faster as well. In spite of the heavier breathing, he managed a, "Yes..." that was clear enough to understand.

Maybe that was what was up with the hand, Harley was just monitoring his heart!

Okay, maybe not, but there was pleasure and a thrill in feeling his heart thumping away. Distinct from the pleasure of his hand on top of hers, too, because that one was a soft and private sort of joy that Harley wasn't looking at, just let it wash through her.

Nothing else about this was soft. Least of all the way Harley kept at it, a few hums and maybe even a little moan escaping her around him here and there. She pushed herself, just a bit, to get him just a little deeper still on a few of their mutual movements, really relaxing her jaw and everything else around him.

Instinct, muscle memory, whim, whatever.

It was a shame she couldn't see him, because Marc was looking down at Harley with a warm expression that was only partially due to the heat she was stoking within him. Or perhaps Marc unconsciously felt more able to look at her that way because her eyes were closed.

Regardless, his movements were clear as he took her suggestion to go deeper, trying to chase more of her mouth but not so much that he gagged her. The hand on the back of her head stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing back and forth in silent appreciation.

He was still watching her, so he managed a, "Gorgeous..." which was kind of impressive, syllable-wise. At least given his current level of distraction and bloodflow.

They'd done this sort of thing enough times by now that Harley knew to both drink in any actual words he said in the middle of things, and knew to appreciate something longer than a single syllable right now. She hummed in return, pleased, if there was any specific emotion to be assigned to the sound.

As he claimed more of her mouth like she'd invited him to, Harley's other hand finally left his length altogether. That arm got then looped loosely around his thigh, like she needed to cover even more of him. Which may have been a familiar urge from all the times she tried to wrap all of herself around him in some other situations.

But nothing that would keep them from moving the way they were. Harley'd promised devotion, and she was delivering. Putting everything she had into just making sure he felt good, that the heat built and built.

Some part of Marc that was able to focus on thoughts was dimly aware of contrasts. A kind of before Harley/after Harley that focused on things like the likelihood of Marc agreeing to, well, any of this.

There was perhaps more to contemplate as far as that went. But for now Marc was tucking it away and putting his focus on the present. What it felt like to have Harley's mouth around him and her hands on him. What it looked like to see her doing this and having at the very least fun (possibly other enjoyments, he wasn't diving too deep into that).

And of course the way it felt as he grew warmer and warmer, muscles tightening as Harley was very good at what she was doing.

Harley had given up on all superfluous thought altogether. For once, everything her senses were feeding her in the present was enough: the taste of him, the scent of him, the warmth of his skin all over, the texture of it against her tongue, the weight of his hand against her head, every sound in her ears from his breathing to whatever wet noises there were from her mouth --

It was plenty, for once, to keep Harley zeroed in on the moment. The only awareness for anything outside of it seemed to be for the signs in him that told her things were building up.

Her nails dug into his chest a little. Not sharply, just... pressure. And she pushed forward just a little bit more, right up to the edge of gagging, but not quite.

Giving.

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