totalwildcard | Apartment Above Needful Things; Tuesday Late Morning

Entry tags:

apartment,
marc

Apartment Above Needful Things; Tuesday Late Morning

Harley had spent most of the weekend on the mainland. Not just Baltimore, either - she'd taken the kid out on a little road trip. Yanno, for life lessons! Most of them criminal, of course, but that was sort of how their mentorship worked, so someone else could handle the boring stuff. Anyway, they'd had fun!

So much of it, in fact, that Harley had only landed back on the island late on Monday evening. Technically probably Tuesday? Which meant that after she'd passed out and slept her fill, the day was already well on its way. She rolled groggily out of bed, shambled her way into the living room --

And groaned when she saw the glitter bomb still waiting on the coffee table, and not downstairs attached to the front door ready to explode on Frenchie if he showed up again this week. Whether he'd already shown up or not, Harley was not in a state to go set it up now.

She shuffled around some more, in search of her phone, which she found discarded on the kitchen counter. No calls, no messages apart from Cass informing her she'd ordered breakfast delivery on Harley's account. Harley looked at the phone for a long moment more anyway, tapping her thumb against the side of it in thought. Groggy, still sleepy, not yet caffeinated thought.

And pulled up a number she'd had for a while but never actually texted before.

(Successfully, anyway. There was that time on her birthday.)

You awake yet?

(expecting one but can be open for other stuff as well!)

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It didn't take much for Harley to figure out what he was going for, since it was something she knew he liked to do. (And something she liked having done to her!) And with her hands pressing on his chest, it was almost impossible to achieve - so she shifted her hands off his chest and onto the mattress on either side of his shoulders, making the angle of her forward lean a lot sharper. And bringing her chest better within his reach.

Well, his reach with something other than his hands, anyway.

"Go ahead, baby."

The angle of the way they were joined together changed too. And not for worse, judging by Harley's happy moan on the next thrust.

Marc was going to. But close for one thing meant close for others. Such as kissing Harley herself.

Her fault for being so distracting. Or that's what Marc's defense would be if he needed to have one.

He didn't need one. "Hi," Harley breathed, happy and almost soft in tone, right before his lips met hers again.

His own fault for being so distracting, maybe?

"Still here," Marc told her. Which was sort of a joke on the "hi" but it came out more serious as he said it, as he remembered she'd asked him to stay with her.

So, yanno. Both. Whatever. Nothing wrong with kissing in this moment, it fit the mood and activity. Shut up.

Harley was shutting up, at least! Bit busy kissing him like her life depended on it, you see.

With her lean, her hair kept falling like a curtain on either side of their faces, but she cared not as long as it didn't actually get in the way.

Marc freed up one hand to brush her hair back away from her face. Then as long as it was there he tried to use that hand to adjust their angle so he could kiss his way down from her mouth towards her neck.

Harley let him, although not without a pouty-sounding little whine when his lips so cruelly abandoned hers!

The sentiment was gone in about the length of time it took them to find her neck instead.

There was that huff of air that indicated something like a laugh at her whine - not mocking, charmed again. He made it up to her by finding a sensitive spot on her neck and sucking at it.

Yes, see how quickly the whine gave way to a husky little noise of pleasure? Maybe there was worth in not getting kissed!

And some of that worth came from having a sliver more attention to give to her hips again, making those motions a little more deliberate. Less distracted.

Her movement got a groan out of Marc which vibrated right against Harley's skin as he kissed and sucked at her neck. Nothing hard enough to leave a mark, but nothing butterfly-light either.

Just right, then, for Harley's neck! She gave a pleased hum in return, adding one more link in the chain reaction.

"Good," she exhaled.

And kept moving.

Marc joined her in that movement, feeling the heat building inside of him. He tried to channel that back into Harley by squeezing tighter with the hand still on her breast, putting extra pressure on the sucking on her neck as he did.

That was apparently a great way to get a groan out of Harley for a change. Along with a bit of babbling about how good she felt, because of how good he felt on her and in her and everything else. Unseen, her toes curled.

You know how she'd threat-promised something slow? Yeah, that wasn't happening.

Marc was not at all torn up about that. Anything good Harley was feeling was something he could feel too, given their position. Which got him murmuring how good she looked and felt while he tried matching her pace.

Plans were nothing but a suggestion, anyway, at least the way Harley went about them. Following your instincts was where it was at, and those instinct were what had led her here, pleasure and anticipation building on top of each other in the pit of her stomach with every move.

Everything he was giving, she was taking, with gusto. Relentlessly, now, really working every muscle to move with him. Chasing.

Marc murmured things that sounded like "That's it." Both to indicate what she was doing for him was great but also to let her know she should keep going for herself, he wanted her to get that high she was chasing.

He followed that up by moving to kiss and suck at the other side of her neck, while the hand that had brushed her hair back moved down to her hip to encourage her to keep grinding into him.

And it was extremely welcome, the encouragement. All of the good feedback that validated that her pleasure had worth, really.

Every last one of her breaths were noisy, now. Some were disjointed words of praise, or pure filth, or both, some were just guttural or desperate or happy. And with his permission-slash-encouragement, she continued with her chase -- But as good as the angle was, there was still something just a little off about it. But still too good for her to change it? Lucky for Harley she remembered he'd been helpful in the past, and luckier still that he'd just put his hand on her hip not too many beats ago.

Meant that when she shifted her weight onto just the one hand, so that the other was free to reach for his wrist and guide his where she wanted it, right above where they were joined, it wasn't exactly a long way to move.

"Come on," she mumbled, panted, something, "get me home."

Marc had no problem with that, both her moving his hand and her making the request. He started working his fingers on her, aiming to give that extra pressure and friction she needed without hitting anywhere that was too sensitive to be enjoyable.

He coupled that with moving up into her harder, enough to give her a little bounce which, let's face it, did not hurt his view at all if he managed it.

"Come on," he said. Not pushing, encouraging. "I gotcha..."

Oh, he managed it, he managed it real good. Harley gave a little gasp on the first thrust, then a strangled laugh - almost smitten, if anything.

And yes, jiggly bits did jiggle, enticingly, he was welcome.

Not that Harley thought about anything except how it felt, how everything felt, and how his fingers were exactly what had been missing. She might have mumbled something about how he knew how to play her like an instrument? Or maybe it was just a thought that had flitted through her mind. Either way, as she kept moving against him, she got louder.

And louder.

And loudest when every last bit of build-up and sensory experience all clicked together, and gosh was it good she had no neighbors to hear the satisfied wail as she came.

Also good that Marc liked that she wasn't quiet? In general, or in moments like this since fuck knew he wasn't a screamer.

He did do groans, and rough breathing, and saying stuff about how good she felt and looked. And holding her tighter while he thrust harder. And when she hit her point he kept his focus long enough to make sure she got all the way through it, but it wasn't long before he felt the buildup and gut punch of hitting his own as well.

No shouting. Maybe saying her name. Not coherently, but still.

Harley also liked when he said things, coherently or not. She especially liked it when she was all shuddery and pulsing and she could hear in his voice how his body gave in to pleasure, too.

She just really liked being someone that got him to do that, okay?

Her face fell into the curve of his neck as she gasped more air back into her lungs. Shivering.

Dazed from his own climax or not, Marc still immediately wrapped his arms around her. He rubbed her back. Whether she needed warmth or something to focus on as she came back down, he figured the touch would work.

Touch always worked!

Harley couldn't give quite the same thing back (yanno, aside from being fully plastered against his chest now), but she wedged her fingers between his shoulders and the mattress in what was largely a symbolic gesture. The best thing she could come up with on an instinct from her currently very floaty brain.

She relaxed with a shudder and a big sigh, nuzzling a grin into his neck. "Now breakfast's complete."

"All kinda ways to feel full," Marc said.

Hey, the blood wasn't going all the way back to his brain yet. There were more jokes.

It made Harley laugh way too much, that was the important part.

"Oh, I think ya might be my favorite way to feel full. Stuffed, even!"

In a short moment, she was going to move enough to take care of things. Just not yet.

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