totalwildcard | Needful Things Building; Monday Afternoon

It'd been almost a week since that weird phone call. Which Marc still didn't really know what to do with but it felt like maybe he should do something? Maybe?

Look, even feeling that was weird. He wasn't gonna examine it.

And sure he could call Harley to see how she was doing but since the last phone call had been, as already mentioned, weird he figured maybe try in person. Not like it was a long walk from his place to hers.

So there he was, trying to see if the door to Needful Things was locked.

Unfortunately it was, this time.

But there was a delivery guy heading that way, too! Not that he had a key either, but... More the merrier?

Not like Marc was going to complain about Harley doing some basic security on her shop. Not that it was really needed on the island but still. Marc was Marc.

He gave a nod at the delivery guy and waited, figuring two birds one stone here, so to speak.

The delivery guy gave Marc a nod back as he got to the door, and then did something on his phone.

It didn't take long before a light turned on in the store, and Harley (this time in a new, fetching galaxy onesie) could be seen in glimpses through the windows, before the door got yanked open with a big flourish, and...

"Marc?" Big eyes, lots of blinking. "You deliver food now?"

The delivery guy cleared his throat, holding out the bag.

"... Oh, right."

"I have good timing now," Marc replied.

Then, since who the heck knew, "Or just timing."

"Hunh."

Harley blinked some more, but managed to both take the bag and tip the delivery guy - who eyed them both for a second, then promptly left because this was none of his business, and it seemed possibly complicated.

"Well, didja... wanna come inside?"

"If you're up for it," Marc said.

"I think it's usually you who has to be up for it to come inside," Harley replied, weirdly earnest for such a dirty joke. But it may have been reflexive babbling. Just a little bit.

She nodded her head, almost right after, towards the back of the store.

"Come on, then."

"Delivery guy wasn't my type," Marc replied. He headed in the direction she indicated, not going fast to make sure she was joining him.

Harley closed the door, then skittered along after him.

"Of course not! First of all, I don't think he was a woman. You seem like a real stickler for that."

"Exactly," Marc said. "Dead straight out the gate."

No pun intended.

"Well, good thing I gave him a good tip, since you won't be."

The door into the back room was open, as would be the door at the top of the stairs, into the apartment.

Marc kept going towards Harley's apartment.

"A good tip?" he asked.

"Yanno, like--" Harley started, then waved her free hand even though he probably couldn't see it, really, wiuth her trailing behind him. "Nevermind. Joke."

"Right," Marc said. He didn't turn around to see the gesture, no. But only because he didn't know there was a gesture to turn around for. "I don't get those."

"Sometimes ya do," Harley felt compelled to say. "This just probably isn't... sometime."

"Kinda not getting a lot," Marc said. He may not have been thinking just of their current conversation.

Harley still assumed he was!

She also gave his butt a little pat. Totally just encouragement for him to now step over the threshold into her apartment as they came upon it now. (It did have a weirdly encouraging feel to it. Compared to, you know. Most times she got her hands on his ass.) "Sure you're doin' just fine."

It said a lot that Harley could do little gestures like that. Both touch as a concept and initiated where Marc couldn't see it. Funny the things that didn't set off his boundaries these days.

"How 'bout you?" he asked, looking her over.

"Huh?" Harley asked, eyebrows all high again. "I'm great at getting jokes! And other things!"

This was what Marc got for using segues that only made sense in his head.

"How are you doing?" he clarified. "In general, not with jokes."

"Me?" Harley asked. "I'm great! Did ya see I've got a new TV?"

The TV in question was probably older than her.

"Congrats?" Marc offered, not sure if that was the way to go.

Well, Harley seemed to brighten up in response? "Thanks!" she enthused. "It just came in over the weekend! Real convenient for this marathon of --"

She gestured excitedly towards the television, then frowned.

"Actually I can't remember what this show is called," she admitted. "But still!"

"Could head out if I'm interrupting," he told her. He could've called before coming in person but, well, phone. "Don't mean to horn in on your thing here."

In response, Harley held up her takeaway bag. "Got like... half sandwich here I could share?"

A beat.

"The smaller half."

Marc wasn't going to comment on if he was maybe relieved she hadn't told him to hit the bricks.

"Sure," he said. "I could eat."

"Great!" Harley replied, giving him a little nudge towards the couch.

Judging by all the empty wrappers and takeaway bags and stuff on the coffee table in front of it, it may have been her main nesting place for a while.

"Come on, get cozy!"

"Is there room?" Marc asked, even as he took a seat. He meant the table.

Harley chuckled. "It's just a little bag, we'll be fine!"

She plopped herself down next to him, and dug into said bag.

"If any of those come alive I'm blaming you," Marc told her.

Did he put his arm on the back of the couch and sort of around her? Maybe.

"If they do," Harley informed him, "Bruce is gonna get 'em before they become a problem."

Bruce appeared to be fast asleep over in the kitchen part of the room, in front of the fridge.

"Nice seeing him not blurry," Marc said.

Since the the last time had been the pictures she'd sent him, you see.

If only Harley had actually been able to recall such ancient history.

"... Huh?"

"The pictures you sent," Marc reminded her. In a way it was nice to talk with someone whose ability to recall details could be as shitty as his own.

"Oh!" Harley said, perking up. "Oh, yeah, he was loving chasing after squirrels at that park!"

The squirrels probably didn't share the sentiment.

"Now you're back," Marc said, as though her sitting on her own couch didn't make that self evident. "So things are okay?"

"Why wouldn't they be?" Harley asked - and finally pulled the sandwich out of the bag, not at all as a distraction.

It was a hefty, generous pastrami on rye, so it would have made for a worthy distraction. Also no, why would Harley be a little homesick for New York? Don't be ridiculous.

Marc wasn't going to say no to a nice pastrami, so that worked out for him if she still felt like sharing.

"Because you left town," Marc said.

"That was no big deal!"

Probably not the impression he'd gotten on the phone. Nope.

Harley went to tear the sandwich into to two, with a surprising amount of care. Just not enough to actually go get a knife of anything.

"But I'm back now, so what's it matter?"

"I dunno," Marc said. He watched the sandwich more than her. For food reasons. Nothing related to eye contact. "Just asking?"

The last part was a question because he wasn't sure either.

See? The sandwich was a great thing to have around!

Incidentally, he was now being handed approximately half of it. It was the smaller half, but it had started out as a pretty big sandwich, so even half was still sizeable. "So ya got nothing to worry about! Eat your pastrami, sweetie!"

"Okay," Marc said, sounding like he wasn't sure about it. He took the offered half, which needed both of his hands to make sure none of the pastrami fell out. "So what are we watching?"

Harley gestured excitedly towards the TV. Yes, with her side of the sandwich, somehow by pure fate not managing to lose any of the pastrami. "Oh!" she said. "They re-design interiors, competitively? And talk shit about each other behind each other's backs! And some of them might be siblings...? I dunno, but it's riveting."

Just not enough for her to have bothered parsing all the finer details! It was junk television, that wasn't the point.

"What, like how fast you can put up shelves?"

Marc did not watch reality TV, so his idea of competition was more sports based.

"Like how pretty they can make it," Harley clarified, then tilted her head. "But I'd watch that, too! Like how fast they can put together one of those IKEA things without the instructions and without swearing."

"Those are obnoxious," Marc agreed. He made a face at the rest of it. "Who's to say what's pretty?"

The multiverse was, of course, shocked that Marc had no sense of appreciation for home decor.

"Uhhh," Harley said, gesturing to the TV again, like this should be obvious, "the professionals?"

"Yeah but if I don't like - " Marc made a vague gesture as he tried to think of something " - polka dots somebody's gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

"If ya go on the show, they will!" Harley pointed out.

Then looked in the middle distance, clearly imagining that. "God, it would be such bad television," she sighed, "but you would look so good."

Marc gave her a bemused look. "I'd look good on TV?"

"You look good anywhere," Harley felt compelled to say, "but with proper, bright TV lights --"

And then she turned her attention from the TV and the middle distance of her inner thoughts towards him - and blinked like she was seeing him properly for the first time that afternoon. Including finally taking in his arm on the back of the couch, and how cozily close to her that put him.

"Oh," she murmured, suddenly smitten. "Hi."

"Still here," Marc replied.

Look, he got needing to reorient yourself to your current situation. No surprise or judgement on his part, simply confirmation.

Okay, but why was he saying words instead of leaning in to kiss her hello?

Here, Harley could show him how that worked!

There was a brief moment of adjustment because he was still holding his half of a sandwich. But the end result was kissing Harley so Marc had motivation to take care of that quickly and return the gesture.

Oh, Harley was clutching her half of the sandwich like her life depended on it, it was fine. Might've made things a little more awkward than they needed to be, but that was fine.

She seemed pretty pleased with the kiss all the same. If the happy little noise was any indication.

Had Marc maybe been wondering about the status of kisses or happy noises as of that afternoon? Not that he'd admit. But there was something like a smile on his lips which indicated if nothing else he didn't mind them.

Harley kept at it for another happy noise or two, before pulling back. Slightly. She may have stolen another peck against the corner of his lips, which indicated how far she'd actually got to.

"Hello," she sighed, happily.

Edited 2024-11-12 20:04 (UTC)

"Hi," Marc replied. He maybe looked, you know, not unhappy. "Just waking up?"

Look, it'd be a valid question for him even though a conversation had been going on already.

"Might be," Harley told him, and something like mischief slid into her expression. "Or maybe I'm daydreaming."

"That mean I'm not real?" Marc asked. He looked thoughtful. "Can't say it doesn't make sense."

"Maybe it means you're dreamy," Harley retorted.

Not that hallucinations were ever entirely out of the question.

"Sure that's not a nightmare?" Marc replied. Not fully serious though. More obligatory than anything.

And in response, Harley rolled her eyes at him, as theatrical as always.

"Please," she huffed, "this'd actually be creative for one of my nightmares."

"Because of the sandwich?" Marc asked. He turned his over in his hand. "Pretty realistic."

"No," Harley replied, matter-of-factly, "but just 'cause there's not somekinda distorted version of Mr. J tryin' to throw me out of my house."

Her nightmares were boring with how predictable they were.

That arm around Harley's shoulders maybe got a little tighter.

"It's your place," Marc said. Okay she'd stolen it but squatter's rights or something. "Nobody kicks you out."

"And nobody's trying to." As much as poor Remy had stepped on that nerve unwittingly. "And won't, if it's up to me."

"Long as that's clear," Marc said. He looked at her curiously. "You get that a lot? Those dreams?"

Harley shrugged like it was no big deal. "A bunch, and it's almost always the same bullshit over and over." And another eye roll. "Like, get some new material, brain, we get it."

"Huh," Marc said as he tried to ponder it. "Sounds like it sucks."

"Yeah, nightmares usually do."

But she seemed very 'enh, what can you do?' about it. Complete with another shrug.

"You had any when I've been here?" Marc asked. He couldn't remember her acting like she was having a nightmare, but maybe he'd slept through it.

"Probably," Harley said, easy and immediate - only to frown a little, cocking her head. "Or... maybe not?"

She couldn't actually remember waking up from one and not being alone in bed.

(Or next to a giant hyena. Sometimes Bruce was there.)

"Huh."

"Could wake me up if you need to," Marc told her. He shrugged, indicating he didn't know how much that'd be worth to her, but the offer was there.

"Huh," Harley said, again, only for a slightly different reason. "Good to know."

And she finally bit into her sandwich. Maybe because metaphorical chewing on something went well with actual chewing.

"Not like I can't handle losing sleep," Marc added, in case that was a factor. He took a bite of his sandwich as well because hey, good excuse to not talk anymore.

"You barely sleep as it is," Harley... agreed. Sure, let's call it agreement.

It was around a bite, too, because of course it was.

"Exactly," Marc said. Since as far as he was concerned she was agreeing with him.

"You're lucky I'm not a restless sleeper."

She was such restless sleeper, he just didn't tend to wake up from all of her rolling around all over the bed.

"'Cause I'm pretty sure most of it is with me. Your sleep."

Marc had slept through worse, was the thing. Harley being unable to stick to one spot wasn't going to do it.

"I sleep at home," Marc said. "Not every night, but yeah."

"... You do?"

Congrats on that being surprising, Marc!

"Got my own bedroom and everything," Marc said.

Okay, back when he and Steven first came to the island Marc hadn't really used what had been designated as his bedroom. But things were different now that Steven and Watts were living together.

"Well I know that," Harley said, then shrugged, making a vague gesture with her sandwich. "But, I dunno, guess I thought the first fiddles were so lovey-dovey, and you're so... you that it just... wasn't much of a thing. Yanno?"

"Depends on the night," Marc said. "Sometimes I'm doing shit when it's time for bed. Sometimes I'm getting up first thing. Kinda depends on the day, usually. They get the back half of the week. First half is up for grabs."

"Hunh," Harley said.

And took another very thoughtful bite.

"Been different since Steven and Watts moved in together," Marc said, if that helped at all.

"How so?"

Well, it was an obvious question.

"That bed's theirs now," Marc said. "Be weird if I slept in it. Plus them spending time together isn't just on dates and shit. They still do those. But you know how it is. Somebody you care about is around, you wanna get your hands on 'em."

Harley frowned at him, confused.

"... Yeah but that sounds like exactly what I thought was happening."

"You were making it sound like it was every night," Marc said.

"Yeah," Harley agreed, "but when you said there'd been a change when those two moved in together, I thought it would be something... less obvious. Since it was worth mentioning?"

Harley was prone to skipping things she thought were too obvious to mention, after all. Whether they were actually that for anyone else or not.

"I dunno," Marc said. What was obvious to other people about relationships was not necessarily obvious to him, and vice versa. "They spend more time together? They got the bed? There was stuff."

"So you used to sleep... more, before?" Harley hazarded a guess.

She was just trying to follow.

Edited 2024-11-13 09:15 (UTC)

"They're on more of a schedule," Marc said. "The house has me out more. We're working around all that."

"O...kay?"

That was not an answer to the question she'd been asking, but it was an answer, so good enough!

"Good for you?"

Marc waved it off. Using the hand with the sandwich. "Steven's thrilled I guess."

"Because of a schedule?"

"Because I'm out more," Marc said. "Before the house I didn't really need to. I mainly laid back and let Steven have things."

"Oh, right, it's that thing again," Harley replied, nodding sagely over her sandwich. "The 'Marc has a life' thing, I know the one."

"Exactly," Marc said, gesturing at her with the sandwich. "So if anything now I sleep more. With the body. Not just in the background."

"And even in your own bed!" Harley replied, half a tease. "Impressive."

"Change of pace," Marc replied, because he could be wry when he wanted to.

Then he took a bite of his sandwich. Which was on rye. A detail only Steven would appreciate.

Harley gave a soft huff, then also bit back into her sandwich.

Okay, chomped into it. And then finally looked at the sandwich while she chewed, and gave a thoughtful hum.

"Well it's not Brooklyn good," she noted, "but it is pretty good."

"Got to try Katz's in the early days when we visited Watts's old Toronto," Marc told her. Did Harley's world have a Katz's? Great question. "That was pretty good."

"What, like in... old fancy hat Toronto?" Harley asked, raising her eyebrows. Really giving them a workout. "You can do that?"

General 'you'.

"Wore a fancy hat and everything," Marc confirmed.

Okay it'd been Steven's hat but Marc had popped in so he'd worn it and thus it counted.

Harley did not seem particularly concerned with getting caught up in the particulars, at least.

"Ooooh," she cooed. "Must've looked dapper!"

"Fedora," he said, in case that helped with her mental image.

"Actual fedora or the thing people keep calling a fedora when it's not?"

Important distinction!

"Yanno, so I can picture it accurately."

"Actual fedora," Marc confirmed, because it was indeed an important distinction. "Not the one that tells everybody you're an asshole."

"Ooh, good choice," Harley replied, lighting up in that way that she sometimes did when something really got her imagination going. "I'd make eyes at that guy from across a crowded... whatever's appropriate for fancy hat era Toronto, I dunno."

"Diner?" Marc suggested. "I was mostly quick sandwiches while we were there."

Reminded, Marc took another bite of his own. As he chewed, he looked at Harley thoughtfully.

Harley was still halfway in her little daydream, exhaling a wistful little sigh. He would've been... not un-happy with how dashing he looked in her mind's eye.

Then she bit back into her sandwich, too.

"Trying to picture you in one of those outfits," Marc told her.

Harley made an amused noise. "Like a proper lady?"

Over-enunciating for comedic effect again, all teeth and red lips.

"I dunno about proper," Marc said, making it sound as though proper was not considered a feature he was interested in.

"What, ya don't care about polite society?" Harley teased. "Just a pretty lady?"

"What about me says I do well in polite society?" Marc replied, sort of teasing back. Sort of because it was him. He wasn't great at it.

Harley let out a sharp, delighted ' ha!' noise all the same. And snickered as she leaned a little more against his shoulder.

"Touché! Impolite society, that's where we fit in."

Marc moved his arm even more around her. Simply because she'd adjusted her position was all.

"Fit in where people don't fit in," he agreed.

"I'd still wear the fancy get-up," Harley confided, not at all just an excuse to briefly lean even further. "I'd just also have a pistol, at minimum, hidden under the skirts."

"'course," Marc said. Then, in case she wondered, "You'd look great. Just not you. Maybe."

"Of course!" Harley preened, but she was clearly pleased with him saying it. "Feel free to think about it as much as ya want!"

"Thanks," Marc said. Because maybe he would.

He gestured at what she was currently wearing. "Cute"

"Ain't it?" Harley replied, doing the bare minimum of showing off the fuzzy galaxy theme of it all when she didn't actually want to move all that much. "I just got this!"

It might not have involved any money, getting it.

"Does that make you a star?" Marc asked.

Because galaxy, you see.

Harley's eyebrows quirked, before she got it. "Hmh? Oh! It might!"

She snickered.

"It definitely makes me stellar."

"It's not the clothes that do that," Marc said. He finished off the last bite of his sandwich and looked for something to wipe his hands.

There just so happened to be a little stack of napkins from some other delivery order, conveniently on the corner of the coffee table!

"What, I'm stellar just 'cause?"

Marc took one of the napkins. Then he realized he kind of needed both hands to do a proper job. Which meant taking his arm off her shoulders.

He put the napkin on his leg and tried to wipe his hand on it that way.

"Yeah. You are."

The compliments were great, but of course Harley's fickle attention was drawn to other things.

Namely: "What are you doing?" she snickered.

"Talking to you?" Marc replied.

He was more big picture about these things.

Helpfully, Harley pointed at his leg.

"There."

Marc looked down. "Getting mustard off my hand?"

"It's adorable," Harley informed him.

And then went ahead and finished off her own sandwich.

Marc was completely oblivious as to why. "Glad you're into it?"

Harley seemed content to have said what she'd said, no need to expand on it.

Once she was done eating she of course licked her fingers.

Marc watched her, bemused. He held up his napkin. "Plenty more where this came from."

Very generous of him, offering her her own things.

Harley snorted, amused - and held out her hand.

"Well, if you're offerin'," she teased.

Marc held out the napkin. And possibly made himself ready to hold on to her hand if she went for it.

And of course Harley went for it.

What? That was how offers worked!

To which Marc tried to catch her hand once it was close enough.

Harley made a surprised noise. But, notably, did not try to pull her hand away.

"What's this?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Marc said. He used her hand to pull her closer if she let him.

There was rarely, if ever, anything bad that followed from Harley getting closer to him.

She let him. Snickering.

"Aw, did ya start to miss me all of a sudden?"

"Not sudden," Marc said. He tried to see if he could pull her into his lap. Scientific curiosity.

Once Harley figured out that was what the goal was? Hell yes he could. Score one for science! Or something!

She made a cooing noise as she settled into it, sideways and snug on his lap. "Well, here I am! No missing necessary!"

Marc moved the arm he had around her to accommodate her new position, helping with that nice and snug.

"Score one for good aim."

"Well, when the target's nice..." Harley teased, and snickered again.

"You're nice now?" Marc asked, teasing a little in turn.

"With the right incentive!"

Him. He was the right incentive. Which maybe he could tell from her sliding her arms over his shoulders, to loop them together.

"Otherwise naughty?" Marc asked.

"Always," Harley replied.

And mimed biting at him.

"That comes off interesting in the onesie," Marc said.

Not as though that was a bad thing.

"Does it?" Harley asked, because it was another obvious question - but she had more. "Interesting like how? Is it causin' ya to have thoughts?"

"I never have thoughts," Marc said. Because that was an easy setup and he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

Harley rolled her eyes at him, and flicked her fingertips against the top of his ear. Gently, but still. "Please, I specifically said thoughts and not feelings so ya couldn't play that card!"

"Can't fault a guy for trying," Marc said. He didn't duck out of the way of the flick. At least not more than the barest token effort. "I'm up against you. Gotta play any card I can get."

"Have ya considered being honest?" Harley retorted, leaving his ear alone again, but leaning in like a playful taunt. "Is that in your deck?"

"Never heard of it," Marc replied. He put his other hand around her, resting it on her hip. Just so they could both be comfortable is all.

Harley scrunched up her face in a predictably theatrical manner. "You just don't wanna talk to me about the onesie," she decided, not even remotely serious. "I see how it is. It's fine."

"It's... normal," Marc said. It didn't sound like that was the right word, but it was the best he could come up with.

Still sounded like a positive though.

"Normal?" Harley repeated, sounding delighted. "That's a new one for me!"

"Yeah," Marc said. He tried to think of a better word but it wasn't coming to mind. It existed, but he wasn't able to summon it. "I dunno. But good kind. Not the kind we don't do."

"I'll take it!" Harley decided. And then pulled one hand back so that she could hold up one finger, very (not) serious. "As long as it's not the kind we don't do. I can't stand that. Or abide by it!"

"Well if you're not abiding then we gotta listen," Marc said. Was there a twinkle in his eyes? Probably a trick of the light.

Oh, Harley knew all about those tricks. Probably played into how she was grinning at him.

From a very close distance, to boot.

"Yeah, we gotta."

Maybe she just liked saying 'we'.

Were their noses bumping now? Coincidence if so. Not on purpose by any means.

"Plus you look comfy. So standing's out of the question."

Sometimes noses just bumped. Everyone knew that.

"See, you get it," Harley murmured. Which was also a thing that just happened.

Marc squeezed the hand on her hip. Not hard. Just acknowledgement.

"Got something."

"Best fun in town?" Harley suggested.

And pressed a kiss right by one corner of his lips. It was soft, maybe even fond.

"Most interesting," Marc said. Not as a contradiction to hers. In addition to.

Harley pressed another kiss next to the previous one, and then another next to that.

"You flatterer," she teased. It was quieter than she typically tended to be, but she was just so very close to him.

She was close enough he could whisper in her ear, adding another item to the list, "Colorful."

Harley shivered, pleased. The next kiss landed softly against his temple.

"Vexing," she suggested.

They both knew that between them, it wasn't a complaint.

Edited 2024-11-15 22:44 (UTC)

"Super vexing," Marc agreed. No, it did not sound remotely like a complaint. "The worst."

Harley's chuckle was right in his ear, soft and quiet.

"Oh, the worst, huh?"

"Pain in the ass," Marc said. It sounded like a compliment even if you didn't factor in the way his lips brushed against her neck.

Edited 2024-11-16 13:26 (UTC)

Harley nipped at his ear.

"Takes one to know one, sweetie." Funny how that also sounded like a compliment of sorts. Warm and fond. "Maybe you're pretty bad, too."

"Not the worst?" Marc asked. She could probably feel his breath on her neck. "Guess I gotta try harder."

Right there on her skin, yes. Sending pleasant shivers down her back.

"If ya wanna practice," Harley teased, her voice still low, near his ear, all warm breath too, "I'm right here."

"Teach me how to be a pain in the ass?" Marc asked. He moved the hand on her hip backwards and gave the lightest of pinches. More the concept of a pinch than anything that might hurt. "Dunno. You're one of a kind."

Harley snickered.

"Yeah but you can still have fun, trying."

And what better way for her to underline that point than by ducking just a little further down to kiss his neck?

Edited 2024-11-16 19:51 (UTC)

Marc looked like he started to say something, but then stopped himself. Instead he tilted his head to give her more room to work with.

"I leave that in your hands," he said. "Fun."

Harley wasn't exactly looking at his face, right then, so she registered nothing except a brief silence. So she just happily pressed another few kisses along his neck.

And said, "It's already in my hands."

Yes, that was timed with her fingers brushing up through his hair.

Yes, she was a real comedian.

Marc mimed nipping at her neck. "More fun than your TV show?"

Harley's teeth grazed his neck as lightly as teeth could.

"What TV show?"

Marc didn't grin. But he didn't look unhappy as he tried to move to give her an actual kiss.

And there was no way in hell that Harley was going to stop him from doing that right now.

She was going to immediately be all greedy about it, though, pressing him more against the back of the couch.

Marc had sort of anticipated it being a light thing. But that hadn't been a written in stone plan or anything like that. More he felt like he was, well, feeling things out for some reason.

Either way, Harley's response was welcome and Marc was happy to let her be greedy. And maybe be a little greedy in turn.

Harley was just living up to how many times he'd called her surprising before! Clearly.

And with his response, she was happy to stay greedy. Really re-familiarizing herself with his lips (well, lips and mouth, since, yanno, greed) and just how much she liked them.

And him.

It was her nature! Plus, given Marc's nature, it was probably for the best that one of them didn't mind plunging headfirst into things. Specifically that that one was Harley since fuck knew Marc wasn't inclined.

Well, not inclined when it came to nice things.

Harley was nice, in Marc's opinion. Which perhaps the way he held her tighter as they kissed helped to indicate.

Harley was finding ways to hold him firmer, too. One of her hands was cradling the back of his head, the other teased at the hair at the back of his neck.

And of course then there was the way she was leaning into his embrace, against him, pressing considerable stretches of fuzzy onesie against him.

He was real nice in her opinion, too.

The onesie was definitely something. Nothing Marc could define other than that previously mentioned normal but it was a positive regardless.

Maybe that's why his hands went roaming as he kissed her back. Nothing overtly sexual. Touching in general. Appreciating what it felt like to have her in his lap and in his arms and - something.

Darn words. They'd be good words if he could think of them though.

He was communicating loud enough.

And of course Harley hummed at his roaming hands. And nipped at his bottom lip a little, teasing it with her teeth, more of a playful 'hello' than anything else, maybe.

Marc mimed biting her back, moving that into more kissing when he got close enough for contact.

The touching was a lot of reminding himself she was there. Also that he could touch. Also also that touching didn't require talking. Marc could maybe communicate with his hands better than actual talking. Right now what he was thinking and doing was appreciating that she was close and seemingly okay.

Why wouldn't she be okay?

(Don't answer that.)

Harley was just... basking, really. Enjoying how easy it was to kiss him. Mussing up his hair in a predictably spectacular fashion, while leaning against him so heavily that if she hadn't already been on his lap, she should've been trying to climb into it. Taking all of the touching he had to give, and only lamenting the onesie situation because it didn't offer much of a chance for skin-to-skin contact.

Marc was giving up on the hair as a lost cause. Funny how that kept happening around her. Maybe because he was distracted petting her through the fuzzy cloth she was wearing. Maybe because he liked it when she played with his hair.

Wait, both of those involved enjoying things. Clearly neither of them could be true then. Pfft.

Marc, please, this was a safe space.

Harley was deepening the kiss either way. Really just reminding him what fully making out with her was like, and how that was another thing he was completely capable of.

Even if he wasn't capable of it Marc was getting in plenty of practice. Perhaps that was why he felt comfortable deepening the kiss in turn. And moving one hand up to the back of her neck to help hold her nice and close. Not trapped, just held.

Considering how much joy Harley got from all the times he held her very tight or put most of his weight on top of her? He probably didn't need to worry much about making her feel trapped.

She was making her happy noises again, somewhere in the middle of things. Feeling held? Always worked.

Marc did like the noises. He moved his hand up to tangle in her hair as the other wrapped around her waist and held her tight. He gave a light nip at her lips, then licked, then kept kissing, trying to see if any more noises might come out.

It was Harley, so there'd be plenty. And she grinned a little under all his tricks - which didn't exactly take away from the impression that she was happy.

Seemed to make her urge to play with his hair even worse, though.

That was all right. The grin was inspiring Marc to kiss her more. Funny how that worked out.

Harley giggled. Didn't let it stop her from kissing him back, but, yes.

It was the highest honor when it came to drawing happy sounds out of her!

The giggle got Marc to actually smile, so there was a lot of honor going around it seemed.

"Something funny?" he asked. Soft, not serious. Words were just another way to get sounds right now.

Edited 2024-11-18 09:14 (UTC)

"Yeah," Harley teased, without pulling back much at all, a laugh still in her voice. "What a great kisser you are!"

Marc quirked his eyebrows up.

"Me being a good kisser is funny?"

"Yeah, 'cause look who ain't so rough and tough and all stoic and shit now.

She punctuated it with a little peck.

Okay, two. Harley had never been very good at limiting herself.

"Kissing doesn't require talking," Marc pointed out.

The fact that he was still smiling undercut any attempt to make this look like him being stoic and shit right now.

And Harley was delighting in peppering his smile with little kisses.

"Like that's relevant!" she replied. "You like kissing and it makes ya soft."

"No I don't," Marc said.

Ignore how he was trying to kiss her back amongst that peppering.

"Don't lie to me, Spector," Harley retorted, smirking - not that he could really see it. Too close. "Or at least have the decency to come up with one I'll buy!"

"Dunno," Marc replied. "You said kissing you makes me go soft, so I'm kinda wondering about your observation skills."

"Your squishy innards and your dick are two separate things, sweetie," Harley replied, unrepentant, "and you know which one I was referrin' to!"

"I'm not soft," Marc said, but it was a token grumble at best. Only because it was her. "I keep an eye out. Big deal."

One of Harley's hands left his hair alone so that she could slide it down instead, down past his collarbones and dangerously close to settling over his heart.

"Yeah you are."

Did Harley enjoy seeing Marc make a grumpy face? Because he was making a grumpy face. A resigned one, since he knew better than to try arguing with her, but a grumpy face all the same.

Harley's hand pressed firmer against his chest.

"Did ya want me to think you were a hardass twenty-four-seven?" she asked. "'Cause, in case ya haven't figured it out yet, I'm not actually into that sort of thing."

"So you're soft too," Marc pointed out.

"Uh huh," Harley agreed readily. "Why, was that s'posed to be your big 'gotcha' moment?"

"Kinda, yeah," Marc admitted. He moved the hand at the back of her neck down to cover her hand on his chest. "Guess it loses something when you're wearing a onesie."

"Givin' too much credit to the onesie," Harley retorted.

Smiling down at their hands in a way that would've instantly ruined all claims that she wasn't soft if she'd bothered to make any in the first place.

"You're not exactly coming off like a hard ass in it," Marc pointed out. He idly rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand while he said it. Don't mind him.

And now Harley was smiling down at that, like a dope.

"Yeah, as I should't be."

Marc may have been enjoying her smile. It may have even been obvious with the way he was watching her.

"Not that you couldn't kick ass in it if you needed to."

Harley snorted. "Yeah I could," she agreed. While her fingertips rubbed against his chest. "But I'd rather not do that right now, 'cause I haven't seen ya in a while."

Not that kicking ass with him wasn't also great fun for her!

"Missed me?" Marc asked. Maybe he liked hearing that. Maybe.

Harley finally managed to tear her eyes away from their hands again, to look up at his face instead.

And, apparently this called for her leaning in real close again. Noses bumping and everything.

"Yeah, I missed ya."

Marc gave her hand a squeeze.

"Ditto."

It wasn't much but he said it. Big steps for him.

Harley seemed to light up even further at hearing it, so the big step was noted. "Yeah?" she asked. "Really?"

She wasn't even going to get back on the 'look at you being soft' train!

"I'm here aren't I?" Marc pointed out. "It's not 'cause I didn't want your company."

Also he'd been a little worried about her. Shut up.

"And it's not 'cause ya missed Bruce, either," Harley supplied helpfully. "Ha!"

Look, she was pleased. She was absolutely going to be a little silly about it.

"He's nice but not the main attraction," Marc said.

No offense, Bruce.

"So it must be me."

And so he was getting kissed again. Warmly.

Harley was likewise getting kissed back. Because it was true, and kissing meant he could confirm that without having to use words. And kissing her was nice. Like right now, when it was all warm and he was still holding her hand.

He was still holding her hand, and she was still pressing hers against his chest as firm as she could. Harley made one of her happy noises, letting herself linger for a while, focusing on nothing except communicating what a treat she thought he was.

And yeah, that she'd missed him. And was filling up her tank again, so to speak.

Marc could in no way process being a treat for someone. But he could be there in the moment where it felt good to kiss Harley and have her kiss back. Where it felt right and even easy, which was another word he didn't often apply to his life if ever.

The hand not holding hers roamed around her back, feeling her and the fuzziness of the onesie. Altogether it was something warm, nice, and that word he kept being unable to find, which was comfortable.

All he needed to be was in the moment. With her.

Harley's free hand had found its way to cupping his cheek again, cradling his jaw, another way to hold him. Comfortable, and showing it, feeding it back to him.

That actually got a noise out of Marc. Nothing big. A soft sound of not displeasure. He rubbed his thumb against her hand on his chest, encouraging and giving back in his own way, but definitely not thinking about it.

Soft sounds were good. Soft sounds were great, actually.

Harley rubbed her thumb against his cheek, in response and in reply.

"You're something else," Marc murmured, not even fully aware he'd broken the kiss long enough to do that. He immediately went back into the kiss, though, so there wasn't too much lingering on things like why.

Harley wasn't going to ask him, either. She just grinned into the kiss and let the words bounce around like an echo inside her head. The tone of his voice and how his breath hit her lips with the words.

Something in her felt like she could just burst.

Instead, she leaned even further into it. It wasn't as devour-y as she could sometimes get, but it seemed like... maybe a softer version of the same.

Marc was right there with her = which was kind of the point, really. It was intense but not in a way that burned. More in a way that felt warm. Right. The two of them in sync without having to say anything.

And it was such a rare feat with Harley to begin with. Getting her to shut up, willingly. No running commentary, or jokes, or innuendo. Just her little noises.

Which wasn't to say words weren't going to form again, and soon. But they weren't compulsive babbling. There was a difference.

Marc didn't mind her talking. But this was nice too in its way. Sort of an unspoken understanding of being there for each other. The hand not holding hers cradled Harley close. She was already pretty near Marc's chest, but that didn't mean he couldn't rub her back while they kissed and indicate how much he liked her being comfortable there.

Good thing, too, because here came the talking as a thought escaped against his lips. "Kinda feel like takin' your shirt off."

His chest was very nice. She wanted to be even closer to it.

"If you gotta," Marc said. But there was a light nip at her lips there to show it wasn't remotely as uncaring as it sounded.

"Well if you wanna keep me from getting my hands all over ya..." Harley teased. Because she had to.

Just like she had to nip back.

"Already got one of your hands," Marc pointed out, giving the one he was holding a squeeze.

It was more of a gentle squeeze than the teasing indicated. Kind of like how the kissing was warm.

"What, you want the other one captive too?"

Not what he'd been saying. That wasn't going to stop Harley, though.

"Seems busy," Marc replied. Much like how his other hand found a way to hold her a little closer and wrapped up in his arm.

What a great excuse for Harley to drag her hand down from his cheek to his neck, to his shoulder, down his chest and slowly past her other hand she seemed to be in no rush to reclaim from underneath his.

"Real busy," she agreed, nipping at his lip again, with a little chuckle this time.

"Rude to interrupt," Marc said, grinning as he kissed her back. "I'm a polite guy."

Harley made an extremely amused noise. "Polite? Like fuck you are!"

Rude, Harls! But also fair.

"I am very fucking polite," Marc replied in kind. Because he was enjoying her reaction, sue him.

"You wouldn't know polite if it bit ya in the ass!"

"Dunno if anyone doing that counts as polite," Marc said, nipping at her lip to drive the point home.

"Figure of speech, sweetie!" Harley objected, on a laugh, her wandering hand sliding all the way down to tug at the bottom of his shirt. "Or hypocrisy! Either works!"

"I know a pain in the ass," Marc said, still grinning. "That help?"

Harley gave him a big, theatrical roll of her eyes - and fully pretended to use that as a distraction for sneaking her hand under his shirt.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, "and ya like it, too."

"Maybe," Marc said, in a way that meant yes. He nodded down at their hands. "Gonna have to let go of you if you want that off."

"All in good time," Harley sing-songed at him with a big smirk, idly scratching at his skin with the hand under his shirt. "What's the rush?"

Spoken as if she wasn't likely to rush with that in like a moment anyway.

"Just pointing it out," Marc told her. He didn't seem inclined to be in a rush to let go of her hand anytime soon. Not if the way he was still rubbing it with his thumb was any indication.

Which Harley almost teased him about, only to think better of it.

Unseen, one of her nails was drawing a star against his stomach.

"Well, consider me pointed at."

Marc's muscles twitched since hey, slightly sensitive skin. But he didn't discourage her. He did try to draw her hand up to place a kiss on her inner wrist though.

Weird how that kiss turned Harley's smirk into more of a smile.

Even though she was fully unrepentant about continuing with her scratching.

"See? I'm helpful," he told her. Which was sort of true. Their hands were out of the way of his chest now. He was still holding her hand though so that would get in the way of fully taking his shirt off.

"Suuuper helpful," Harley replied, really drawing the word out. She finally left his skin alone so she could try and push his shirt up his chest. There'd be maneuvering and letting go, eventually, but she'd get to that when she'd get to it. "Pretty sure helpful boys get rewarded, too!"

"Not a boy," Marc said, with a quick squeeze of her hand to silently tell her this was a serious request.

"Man?" Harley offered without missing a beat. (Maybe while squeezing his hand back, but you couldn't prove anything.) "Guy? Ooh, fella?"

"Anything adult," Marc said. There was a quick, grateful look in his eyes for how quickly she'd adjusted to it.

Hey, it wasn't Harley's first rodeo with him. And it was rapidly becoming more and more important to her to listen.

She smirked. "Oh, I know just how adult you can be," she teased as she resumed her efforts with the shirt. Could she work his other arm out of it...? "But don't let that fool you into thinkin' I don't want ya to remind me."

Marc tried to help with that free arm. It probably required more finagling than usual given their position, but he did try to lend a hand. So to speak.

"Lots of fucking swearing, got it," Marc replied.

He knew that wasn't what she meant.

It was an absolutely ridiculous affair, but they had no audience and it worked, so who cares! Harley even made a delighted noise as she successfully freed that arm from the evil clutches of the shirt.

"Well it's a start," she said, in reference to what he'd said. "But you can do better than that."

Marc took that newly freed arm and wrapped it around her again. Maybe he enjoyed the feeling of the fuzzy fabric of her onesie against his skin but you'd never get him to admit it.

"Buy alcohol?" He suggested.

Because it was something you theoretically had to be an adult to do, you see.

"Not today, sweetie," Harley retorted, now pulling their still-joined hands up, herself, so she could press a little kiss or two over his knuckles. "Although ya should take me out for cocktails sometime!"

"We could do that," Marc said. Maybe he smiled a little at her kiss. Nobody could prove it. "Some other time."

Because he was good with where he was at the moment. And where she was. It let him do things like lean in to kiss behind her ear.

And even if Harley had been making nay noises about going right then, that would've been a pretty great way of distracting her from it.

Even now, she made a very pleased hum of a noise. "We'll find someplace good," she murmured, "with tasty drinks."

"I'm not having anything that needs a blender," Marc said.

Very strong, principled stand here.

Harley chuckled. And brushed her lips against his cheek.

"Oh, next you won't want any fruit, either."

"It could be a garnish," Marc said. Oh so sternly. Mainly because he was enjoying her laugh so possibly it'd inspire her to keep going.

"But what about the little umbrellas?" Harley pressed on, nuzzling at his cheek, a laugh in her voice. "They're adorable, ya gotta have one of those!"

"I got plenty adorable already," Marc told her in one of those things he might not have said out loud if they weren't already fairly into this.

"Yeah, but you can't put me in a drink," Harley retorted, scratching her nails down over his bare shoulder. Light, like a hello. "And there's always room for more adorable. Don't limit yourself!"

"You take up a lot of room," Marc told her.

Not a complaint.

Harley gasped anyway. "You'd say that to a lady?!"

He was not talking to a lady, first of all, and she knew it.

"You've got a big personality," Marc replied, with an additional look of so there.

Harley used it as an excuse to finally let go of his hand, anyway. It didn't go far: in fact, she immediately got back to peeling his shirt the rest of the way off.

"Well, you've got a big chest, so there."

Marc helped her along with the shirt even as she got a huff of a laugh out of him. "That's what you're going with? Big chest?"

"Uh huh!" Harley confirmed, brightly, tossing his shirt over to the other end of the couch. "You know me, I mostly focus on what's right in front of me!"

"Like this?" Marc asked, and tried to pull her in for a kiss.

What? Maybe she felt nice against his bare chest. Shut up.

It shut Harley up, at least for the moment! A bit too busy making sure he could feel a bunch of fuzzy fabric against his skin.

And kissing him. Very much kissing him back.

Marc had both hands free now, so he wrapped his arms around her and held her nice and close for all that kissing. Any appreciation of fuzziness was extra.

Nice and close was exactly where Harley wanted to be. She had one arm looping over his shoulders again, to reciprocate, while her other hand brushed down the side of his face.

Touch-happy, as always.

Everybody knew Marc wasn't touch happy. Mere coincidence then that his hands roamed over Harley's back as he deepened the kiss. Nothing hot or urgent. More of that warmth like they'd been doing earlier.

Harley made a noise of approval as she responded to his deepening of the kiss in kind. Would it be a little too on the nose to say she was feeling kind of warm and fuzzy? Tough shit, because she was.

And it was because of him, whether he could believe that or not.

Marc absolutely wouldn't. But he could maybe be okay with having her wrapped up in his arms and her not objecting to how it felt. They'd been at this for a while. It'd happened often enough even he could notice it. Maybe even comment on it via light sucking of her lips.

Harley made a noise that was close to a purr. Just some ridiculous, low thing that said she was very happy with him doing that.

Just in case he could use even more evidence.

It certainly didn't hurt. He maybe even made a soft noise of his own in response. A low, wordless murmur that he was right there with her.

Was he aware he was adorable?

Rhetorical question, of course he wasn't. Harley was stroking his cheek like he was precious, though. While her other hand wandered over to where it could pull the zipper on the front of the onesie a little further down, because skin-to-fuzz was nice but she also found herself with a craving for skin-to-skin.

Marc didn't mind skin to skin with her at all. (Important qualifier there, of course.) He gave her enough room to move to deal with the zipper, then pulled her nice and close again so they could both enjoy that contact.

Harley let the onesie fall open how it wanted to: as long as she got to smush at least some of her bare chest against his, she was happy.

In fact, she even finally ducked out of the kiss again, to bury her face in his neck and just bask, making a pleased little noise.

Marc was okay with that. He even moved one hand up to lightly massage the back of her neck. "Comfy?"

"Yes," Harley sighed, melting a little further with the neck rub. "I'm real glad you're here."

Not just because of his big chest.

But a little bit because of that.

Okay, not a sentiment Marc was used to people expressing. Certainly not with any level of contentment. So he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it, but found himself saying, "Same" before he could think about it.

Harley smiled against his neck.

"Good," she said. She didn't need to think about that one at all! "I wantcha to be glad."

She wanted him to be all sorts of things, about and around her.

"You kinda manage it," Marc had to admit.

Look they were basically cuddling. Even his powers of denial could only go so far.

"And I didn't even get around to offerin' sexual favors, yet!" Harley joked. "I think you might be easy."

That was a much bigger joke. He wasn't easy, she just had all kinds of disregard for whatever walls he might have previously wanted to put up to keep her from cuddling with him.

"You're not just sex," Marc said. Because he had a thing about her maybe underselling herself. Ignore how that related to how they were cuddling. It was connected, but Marc was ignoring it.

"Duh," Harley replied, sounding amused. She would've looked it, too, but she was too busy nuzzling his neck. "Right now I'm not sex at all, even!"

"And I'm still here," he pointed out. Because he was, well, making a point. Dang it.

"Yeah, that's what I was saying," Harley replied, helpfully. "That you're easy."

"Guess one of us has to be," Marc said, with a philosophical sigh. "You already took complicated."

Harley snickered. "I dunno about that," she said. "I'm feelin' pretty easy too."

A beat, for effect.

"I'm not askin' for sexual favors, either!"

"You got a jar that needs opening?" Marc replied.

For the record he didn't actually think she needed help with that.

He was correct!

And, also: "... What?"

"If you're asking me for favors," Marc explained.

"Oh, I'm not," Harley assured him. The head shake was sort of vague, with her chosen mode of cuddling. "That was sorta the whole point!"

"Huh," Marc said, because sometimes that was what he could manage when he was being thoughtful. (Thoughtful not being a frequent state for him.) "Just this?"

Harley shrugged.

"Was I s'posed to be hounding you for more? Because I can if ya want me to. But otherwise... Yeah."

Sometimes there was a ton of worth in just getting to be with him on the couch.

"It's weird not being asked to do something," Marc admitted. Not in a way that suggested she needed to fix that, just that he was offering his point of view.

"Like... you're used to finding your worth in performing services?" Harley hazarded a guess, in her own display of something thoughtful.

"Dunno about worth," Marc said, even though she was absolutely correct regardless of Marc's awareness about it. "But I guess so, yeah."

"Well, you don't have to do that shit with me," Harley replied, fairly firm in her tone. Especially taking her languid body language into account. "I've been a performing monkey, and it's not fun."

Marc's arm around her waist held her a little tighter. "You don't have to do that shit with me either."

"You wouldn't even know what to ask for," Harley teased, but it was... very, very soft.

In fact, it may well have been just a roundabout way of saying 'I know'.

"Not much of an asker," Marc agreed.

For favors, for help, for anything.

Edited 2024-11-23 12:55 (UTC)

"You're lucky I'm such a giver."

No, she didn't need to press her chest so tight against his as she said that. She did it just for fun.

"Very generous," Marc said, rubbing her back.

He meant in personality, of course.

"There's a bunch more I could give ya."

Probably not in terms of personality, since that was pretty much always stuck on the max setting.

"You already shared half a sandwich," Marc pointed out, joking. For him. "I'm doing pretty good here."

Harley snorted, but the sound was soft. "Well, your choice, pastrami breath."

"Like you're one to talk," Marc said. He couldn't get nose to nose with her in this position so he went for moving his hand to idly toy with her hair instead.

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't have pastrami breath," Harley objected, snickering, "just that you do! Those are two completely different things!"

"There's worse things," Marc decided. "I'll stick around even if you do."

Harley pulled back enough to see him. Clearly he needed to see her amused face, and the smirk on it. "Aww, ya do like me."

She was getting a bemused smirk back in return, so good thing she could see it? "You're okay I guess."

"I am so okay," Harley declared.

And stole a kiss.

"And ya know it!"

"Maybe a little more," Marc said, like this was a huge allowance on his part.

Whether he was referring to the 'okay' or the kiss was a tough call. Probably both.

"A little more what?"

Oh, had he thought he'd get away with it? Harley was much too talky for that?

"Than okay," Marc said, since he knew she'd drag it out of him eventually. She was persistent like that.

And Harley grinned at him for it, and drew one hand back so that she could gently tap his chin with it.

"See, I knew you could do it!" she teased, as if she hadn't just been a pain. "Used your words!"

"I'm all out now," Marc told her.

Of course him saying that was a contradiction.

"All out?" Harley asked, leaning back in, with great mischief in her smirk. "What's that gonna mean for my poor little ears, then, huh? They gonna be left all alone with no words to keep 'em company?"

"Something tells me you'll give 'em something to listen to," Marc said.

Harley made a little humming noise. "Oh, is that so?"

"It's so," Marc said.

"Hmmh," Harley hummed.

And began to pull away from his lap. Not in an upset way, no: the mischief remained very much present on her face.

Marc was going to reply to that hum with silence. Also quirked brows as he watched her to see where this was going.

Harley slid off his lap and onto her feet with what could only be described as clownish grace, since while there was no stumbling involved and it was all quite smooth, it was hard not to be clownish in a half-open onesie - and also she was Harley and thus always teetering right on the brink of being ridiculous, even when not actively engaging in it.

Anyway, once she was upright, she held out her hands for him.

Edited 2024-11-23 21:37 (UTC)

Marc took her hands. He didn't automatically get up because hey, maybe she wanted him to stay seated.

It was a fair guess!

But no, Harley absolutely tried to get him off the couch. "Come on, up we go!"

Marc put in a token effort of resistance just because he liked it when she didn't let him get away with that. Then he stood.

"Where we going?"

"Somewhere more comfortable," Harley told him, already tugging him along.

Towards the bedroom, surprise surprise.

"If I gotta," Marc said. The token protest meant nothing when he was letting her lead him without hesitation.

"You gotta unless you don't wanna," Harley retorted. But since she could feel no resistance, she dragged him into the bedroom.

There had been no new developments in decorating. This time.

"Still kinda impressed we haven't broken the sign," Marc admitted once he could see it again.

Harley snickered and gave his hand a squeeze. "Oh, I made sure to put that on there real sturdy! 'Cause I've met us."

"See?" Marc said, as though this was in any way a segue from what they'd been talking about. "Smart."

It was not as much of a segue as he thought it was.

"You were just questioning it a second ago."

"You're smart," Marc clarified.

"Yeah but you weren't sure that was," Harley replied, helpfully pointing at the sign. "We already knew that I was!"

"What? You don't like me pointing out I still notice?" Marc asked.

It was not a serious complaint.

"No, I'm pointing out you were confusing!" Also not a serious thing in any way. "Trust me, I like that ya notice."

"Pretty sure you've figured out I'm never not gonna be confusing," Marc told her.

"And I'm pretty sure you know I'm never gonna stop pointing it out!" Harley retorted cheerfully. "See, we both got things to keep lookin' forward to!"

"Looking forward to, huh?" Marc asked. He seemed as though he didn't mind the wording.

"'Less you wanna object," Harley teased anyway, giving him a little nudge towards the bed, "and make some outrageous claim about how ya just stumbled in today, and it wasn't on purpose 'cause this is not a thing that repeatedly happens, your honor, I swear!"

Yes, she went extra theatrical at the end: all that was really missing was her wrist to her forehead like she was some sort of frail Victorian lady in a bad costume drama.

Of course, then she snickered, right after.

Marc let himself be so nudged. He also smirked. "What? I was in the neighborhood."

Because he lived around the corner, you see. Very funny.

"You're always in the neighborhood," Harley objected, clearly amused despite the way she poked him in the chest with her finger, like an accusation. "It's our neighborhood!"

Marc didn't move away, in spite of the finger poking. "Oh it's ours now, huh?"

There was an emphasis on that ours that seemed to imply more than that they both lived in the same area.

"Yeah it is," Harley confirmed, smirking wide at him from a very close distance. And, also, over-enunciated: "Ours."

Marc stayed right where he was, there at that close distance. "Guess that's okay. Ours."

Harley's face was close to practically splitting in two. "Say that again?" she teased.

Asked. Whatever.

"Guess that's okay," Marc replied, with a grin that said he knew damn well what she'd been really asking.

Harley huffed, mock affronted, and prodded him in the chest again. "Not that part!"

"Part where I said you're smart?" Marc asked.

The grin was still there.

"... Okay, you can say that one again, too." Because Harley was no fool! "But that's not what I was askin' for!"

"That one again too," Marc said, looking far too pleased with himself.

Harley made a noise that somehow managed to sound offended and impressed and amused, all at the same time. "I dragged you in here to make ya feel good, yanno!" she squawked. "Now I'm not so sure! Ya look like you're doin' just fine on your own!"

Edited 2024-11-24 21:26 (UTC)

Marc was absolutely not doing anything like laughing. Perish the thought. "I'm doing what you told me!"

"You're bein' a little shit," Harley declared, shrill, and clearly holding back a laugh, "that's what you're doin'!"

Marc went to put his hands on her hips if she let him. Looking, for the record, pleased with himself.

"I would never. That's your domain."

"So that's worse!" Harley objected. "You're -- you're encroaching on my turf!"

Funny how she didn't seem to feel the need to argue against him claiming the turf of her hips.

"You're tryin' to out-pain the pain!"

"I could never," Marc said. He was definitely grinning now. "'sides, I thought it was our turf."

"The neighborhood is!" Harley exclaimed. "Not bein' a pain in the ass!"

And then suddenly: a thoughtful headtilt.

"Unless it is?"

"Up to you if I'm being a pain in the ass," Marc told her. But he looked like he suspected the answer and was happy about it.

Was the suspected answer he was happy about 'yes'?

Because: "Obviously!"

"You're welcome," Marc told her. Because yes, it had been what he was happy about. He moved his hands around to the small of her back. "Just doing my part."

But sure, he was never happy about anything!

Harley was beaming at him again. And stepping further into his embrace, sneaking her feet between his. "Oh that's what you're doin', huh? Your part?"

Never. Just like he didn't smile.

"Figured you'd kick me out if I'm useless," he told her. He wrapped his arms around her more now that she was being thoughtful enough to close up some of that space that had been in the way.

"Aw, I would never think you were useless," Harley cooed, sliding one hand up along his arm since it was so enticingly there. "I'd find a use for ya, promise!"

"I'm just saying I'm sure you'd make it clear pretty fast if I wasn't," Marc said. Because hey, he did pay attention to that thing where she spoke her mind if she was unhappy.

"Oh well that part's accurate!" Harley confirmed cheerfully. "You'd know it loud and clear."

Mostly loud, possibly.

"Sometimes I learn," Marc said.

Hey, he had some self-awareness. Sometimes. Ish.

Close enough!

"And I notice and appreciate ya for it," Harley informed him, although her tone was largely teasing. "You're a smart guy sometimes!"

Okay, that was much heavier on the teasing.

"Sometimes," Marc agreed.

Again: Self-aware. Steven could handle most of the brainy stuff. He was fine with that.

"See!" Harley replied, as if they'd had any sort of an argument going. "You're more than just a juicy butt!"

With her free hand, the one that wasn't busy brushing along his arm and shoulder, she helpfully mimed the shape of said 'juicy butt' in the air. Unless it was supposed to signify her squeezing the juicy butt...?

It was not the clearest of gestures. But it looked appreciative!

"Dunno," Marc said, thoughtfully. "Been called an ass plenty of times..."

"Just take the compliment!" Harley urged, with a laugh where the exasperation was fake but the fondness wasn't. "Sheesh!"

"Thanks?" Marc tried.

Steven wasn't the only one who had problems with those. Not the same problems, but the end result of needing a nudge on a thank you was the same.

It was Harley's turn to look bemused. "Well not if ya don't want it."

"What am I supposed to say?" Marc asked. Sadly genuine curiosity here. "Isn't it a thanks thing?"

"You're not supposed to do anything!" Harley replied, her previously gesturing hand sliding up the side of his head and into his hair. "Fuck 'supposed to'! Thanks is typical, but if it's comin' out as a question 'cause you're not feeling it, then fuck that, I'd rather you just be you."

Not that she had feelings on this, or anything.

"I sometimes suck at being me," Marc said. But he was grinning because c'mon. Sometimes you had to pick the low hanging fruit when it was your brain that was shattered into pieces.

"That's a separate issue," Harley declared. "You're not suckin' at it right now, and I got proof!"

"I'll bite," Marc said, since now he was curious in a new way. "What's the proof?"

"You're here," Harley replied. "In the body, in my lair! And you're holdin' me like I belong all smushed up against ya!"

Please enjoy the very boob-forward way she pressed further against his chest. She was making her point!

"Ain't nobody else in your skull wantin' to do this stuff," she added. "This is you, Marc. This is all you."

Marc held her tighter. Which worked as a comment on him enjoying her physical expressiveness too.

"You gotta point," he said. He tapped one finger against her back. "This one's all me."

Harley's smirk grew wider the tighter he held her. "Damn right!" she said. "And I dragged ya in here with thoughts of makin' you feel good. No one else."

"That one I do like," Marc told her, running one hand up her spine now. Ignore how what he said had some implications about their relationship. Not important.

"What, the feelin' good part?" Harley teased, with a happy little squirm. "See, you're doin' great with being you if you remember to care about that part!"

"You being specific," Marc replied. He walked his fingers down and up her spine again since it got a nice reaction. "That was good too."

It was clearly inspiring something restless in Harley. The good kind, shifting against him.

"Sweetie, I can be as specific as you like."

Marc looked around the room, then back at her. "I got what I need."

"It's the sign, isn't it?"

What, he'd looked around! She was hilarious, as always.

"Not interested in getting up close and personal with the sign," Marc said, after doing the possibly expected sigh that was his part as the - ahem - straight man.

"No but I wouldn't judge ya if you did, it's a sexy sign and we all got our kinks!" Harley replied, because she was relentless. "But anyway, no, but it sets a vibe for gettin' up close and personal with what you do want."

This stage whisper wasn't necessary, and yet:

"Me, I know it's me."

Speaking of up close and personal, Marc leaned in until they were practically nose to nose.

"You're not a what," he said, stage whisper for stage whisper.

Well, clearly Harley had to keep at it - and hold that distance, too.

"Not just a hot bod?"

"You have a hot bod," Marc agreed. "But you're not just a hot bod."

"As long as we're clear on the hotness of my bod."

Oh look, another squirm.

Marc moved his other hand lower to encourage her to get hip to hip with him.

"Crystal."

"Oh good, I didn't even have to take my clothes fully off to remind ya!" Harley said, as she went with his encouraging. "I'm still gonna, it just won't be for that reason."

"Figured you wouldn't want to get the onesie dirty," Marc said.

Though that would be an excuse to do laundry.

"I mean I could get dirty in the onesie," Harley was quick assure him, "just to be clear!"

Laundry excuses were great, after all!

"I believe it," Marc said. "I've seen you get pretty filthy."

Harley's smirk was wide and sharp, though not without the usual mischievous spark in her eyes.

She gave his hair a little tug. Nothing too hard, just something for him to feel.

"And I think you like it."

"Sometimes," Marc said, because apparently they were doing a plain spoken thing? Which for some reason he could do? So long as he didn't think too much about how that was also an honesty thing?

Regardless, he walked his fingers up her spine again and gave a light tug on her hair. "You've got layers."

Harley couldn't exactly smirk any harder at the tug than she already was, but the thought was there.

"Course I do," she said - and wasn't it weird how that now seemed like a given with him? That he knew and acknowledged and cared about that? "But I'm thinkin' of the layer that's now thinkin' real dirty thoughts about you."

"Which one's that?" Marc asked, grinning at her. He moved his hand further up to tap a finger on the top of her head. "Here?"

"There, too," Harley replied easily. "But also here," and she pressed her chest tighter against his again, briefly, "and... here."

Gosh, the hip-to-hip thing they were already doing sure was convenient for a shameless little grind!

"My layers've got layers."

"I'd never accuse you of not having layers," Marc said.

He moved his hand down from the top of her head. Whatever destination he'd been thinking of got derailed when he brushed her cheek and ended up lingering there while he looked at her.

Harley's face tilted into his touch. Her smirk remained, but her eyebrows quirked up.

"What?" she asked. "What are you thinkin'?"

Marc leaned in to give her a kiss. Not too fast, not too slow.

"That," he said.

What? Demonstrations counted as an answer if they were demonstrating the answer.

"Oh," Harley sighed, sort of playing at being smitten, sort of... not playing. "That."

And stole another kiss.

Marc sort of started to mumble something but the kiss connected before he could say it. And it was, yanno, talking so not like he was complaining about a reason not to do it.

Or complaining about kissing her in general.

It took the cut-off mumble a few beats to actually register with Harley, but she did ultimately pull back - just barely - with a very graceful, "Mhwhat?"

It took Marc a second to remember he'd been mumbling. Then what it was. But he got there.

"Who knew we were thinking the same thing?"

"Well, not me before you told me!" Harley replied, with a snicker, carding her fingers through his hair. "One of us is loud about this sorta thing, and it's not you."

He was, in fact, never the loud one.

Never. Actions louder than words, yadda yadda.

"I showed you," he said, tilting his head to make it easier for her to do the hair thing. For her benefit of course, not his. "Counts."

"Yeah, yeah," Harley teased, trying to wrap some of his curls around her fingers, "man of action, I get it."

Neither Marc nor his hair was fighting her on the finger wrapping.

"Get you paying attention," Marc said, teasing a little.

Well, look at that, what a convenient hold Harley managed for another gentle tug along his scalp!

"Oh, I pay enough attention to know I'm lucky I'm getting more than grunts outta you!" she confirmed cheerfully. "Mind you, I've had ya on top of me enough times with all your --" She put forth a fairly accurate impression of one of his typical mid-sex noises. "-- so I'm not knocking the grunts, either! I've got plenty of good memories and spank bank material with the grunts!"

"Never sounded like you complaining," Marc said, by way of agreeing.

He would not be doing a return imitation of her, no.

"Never gave me a reason to," Harley agreed, leaning back in enough to gently rub the tip of her nose against his. "So far."

Teasing!

What if he mimed biting at her nose? Would that be a reason? Because he did that.

Well, it got Harley to pull back, at least? Though not in a way that took him out of his embrace by even an inch.

"That part of me's not for eating!"

"So many rules," Marc said. But it was only a pretend complaint. It was also paired with him trying to see if he could turn them and lean her towards the bed.

"Ooh, what're we doing now, dancin'?" Harley cooed in a tease - while following his lead and letting him move her.

So, sort of like dancing.

"Falling," Marc replied. He let go of her as he gave the lightest lean in the direction of the mattress, encouraging her to get on it but not forcing that by any means.

Harley was fully flopping backwards onto the mattress before he even had a chance to think about not forcing her.

"Oh I love falling!" she declared, with a snicker.

Edited 2024-11-29 13:31 (UTC)

Marc didn't drop down, but he did get onto the bed on top of her. Sort of. He used his arms to hold himself up so he was above her but not on her so much. "Anything else you like?"

Harley had both hands free, now. She used them to reach up and caress his face, one cupping his cheek, the other rubbing at his jaw.

"Yeah," she said. "You."

That was normally the kind of statement that got Marc heading for the hills. But by this point with Harley that instinct was barely a flicker.

Instead he replied by relaxing, finally putting his weight on top of her, and lightly brushing her mouth with a kiss.

Harley smiled against his kiss. She also shifted a little, parting her legs a bit further to create space for him. Ever so helpful, not at all selfish.

"Yeah," she murmured, "like this."

And if Marc rocked into her when she did that it was just him making sure they were both nice and comfortable against one another. Purely selfless.

"This?" he replied, and went in to kiss her again.

Harley managed to hum some kind of a 'uh huh' right into the kiss, although half-assed, because the kiss was clearly more important.

And just like that, the hand that had been on his cheek was in his hair again. Grabbing a fistful for no better reason than clearly needing something to hold on to. Firmly.

Again this normally wasn't how Marc would respond to things like this. But in this particular case he murmured, "Not going anywhere" before deepening the kiss for emphasis.

'Normal' had exited the building long ago. Possibly around the time Harley had decided to move in.

She kissed him back in kind, letting him know how she felt about him staying. It was all sorts of intense. Pleased, with intent to steal his breath away.

She was a pretty good thief. She was able to steal his breath no problem. Marc responded by rocking into her again, this time putting even more weight down on her when he hit the upswing.

Oops, that was a little groan from Harley. Hey, he already knew it didn't take a ton to get her going, and she'd already had a head start with all the dirty thoughts she'd been alluding to! Add to that how thin the clothing on her was and how she tended to respond to him in general and, well...

Yeah, a groan. Some more tugging on his hair, too. And her other hand straying over his shoulder to scratch at his back.

Well one of them needed to make noise and they'd already established it wasn't going to be Marc.

He could help with the noise though. By rocking into her again and nipping at her lips for example.

So helpful! Harley made a noise that sounded like an accusation. But like a pleased one? She had layers, like they'd discussed.

The nails dragged further down along his skin.

Marc made his own noise. Acknowledgement maybe? That he was getting a response out of her? Granted there was plenty to show he was picking up on that, particularly where he was rocking into her again.

He had thought about getting rid of the rest of his clothes before lying down with her but oh well. Maybe one day he'd be better at planning ahead.

Practice made perfect! And Harley was just fine with letting him practice as many times as it took for him to start remembering to get out of his clothes earlier. It wasn't like this was hard on her.

Pun absolutely intended.

She also squirmed up into his next thrust. And bit on his lip when there was something particularly nice about the angle.

That got one of those rare noises out of Marc. Nothing big. A little approving hum. it also got him doing a little twist of his hips the next time he hit that angle, just to see if she liked it.

It turned out Harley liked it so much that she slipped away from the kiss - although likely not for long! - for one of her delighted little laughs.

With kind of a gasp in it, too, but still a laugh!

Her slipping away like that did make it easier for Marc to move down and start kissing her neck, so there was no real sacrifice on his part, really.

And now Harley was in no rush to get back into the kiss, funnily enough.

She grinned at the ceiling, offering him more of her neck, while digging her nails a little firmer into his back. Like encouragement!

Marc was encouraged enough to scrape his teeth along the column of her neck and then follow it up with a lick.

He couldn't see whatever was on the ceiling so he had to make his own amusement, clearly.

One of these days, Harley was actually going to put stuff on the ceiling, to amuse her on her nights alone, but she really wasn't thinking about that now, with the teeth and the tongue against her skin like that. Even with her issues with focusing, im general, it was very easy just to focus on him.

She made more of her noises. Repaid him with some more scratches, extremely proud of herself for at least having gotten him out of his shirt before they landed in bed. "Ooh, keep that up..."

Yes, there was a pun in that.

Marc made a sound that was something like agreement. She could probably figure out that's what it was since she'd paid enough attention to his noises.

His action was to kiss along her collarbone until he got to the other side of her neck, where he then repeated giving her attention with his teeth and tongue.

Harley obliged him by tilting her head the other way, giving him more room on that side just like she had on the other side, too.

Her noises and general happy restlessness were the most obvious feedback she was giving him, but with the way the front of her onesie had fallen open, it wasn't exactly difficult to tell he was having other effects, too: her nipples were getting to be points against his chest. And that was before Harley gave in to the urge to steal one of her hands away from him so she could slide it over her breast instead, for a little squeeze and a fondle.

"Trying to change the view?" Marc asked.

He did not sound like he minded.

"Are you objecting?"

He didn't sound like he was, so the hand remained. Playing and teasing.

"Just wanna know if I'm in your way," Marc said. He brushed his lips up to just behind her ear as he did.

Harley sighed. Not a displeased noise by a long shot. "Baby, I want ya in my way right now."

"If you're putting on a show," Marc explained. He gave her earlobe a light nip just because he was in the area.

"Am I?" Harley teased, the first word more of a gasp. Her voice was going more sultry, a surefire way to tell she had a big ol' smirk on her face, even when he couldn't see it from his current position. "You wanna watch?"

And there went her other hand, sneaking between them to join the first one, knuckles rubbing against his chest as her fingers ran over hers.

"You wanna watch while I play with my rack for ya?"

Whatever reaction Harley was expecting - whatever reaction Marc might have thought he would give to an offer like that in the abstract - actually turned out to be Marc moving back up to kiss her on the mouth. Long and warm and soft.

... Oh.

Oh, okay then, definitely not what Harley had been expecting. But the surprise only lasted for a second, before the usual instinct of kissing him back kicked in.

Because far be it from her to waste such a warm and soft kiss on being confused.

Yeah, Marc wasn't really sure what was going on there either. Not that he was a bastion of introspection at the best of times. But at least if he'd had to guess how he might react this wouldn't have been it.

It was what he was doing though. Kissing her in a way that could almost be called tenderly.

Yeah. Yeah, that seemed to be about the right word. And it was... doing things inside Harley's chest. On top of which, incidentally, her hands had stilled - with the surprise of it all - and were now just cupping her.

She paid that no attention. She was too busy doing her best to match him with the vibe of the kiss, letting some of the sudden warmth inside her chest bleed into how she was responding.

Marc kept up with the kiss. He moved one hand down, shifting position enough that he could get it between them and over one of hers. He gave a light squeeze, more a silent acknowledgement that he was there than anything else.

Harley gave a light little hum in response, almost like a sigh right into the kiss.

Something pleasant.

Marc squeezed again, lightly kneading now, still keeping his hand over hers.

Harley took it as encouragement. She took a cue from his kneading and let him feel her hand move underneath his, picking some of her earlier playing back up.

Just, now with him, too.

Once again that got her soft kissing. Marc was enjoying it, given their position it was clear that he was even with his pants in the way. but the response was still something easy and tender.

And it was still kind of throwing Harley off. Not in a bad way! But in a 'huh, wasn't expecting that' kind of way. She wasn't fumbling her response, but it lingered somewhere on the edges of her mind.

Felt like she was learning something. She just wasn't entirely sure what.

She gave his lip a little lick. And also caught her nipple between her fingers. Nothing rough, just a little tweak.

Frankly Marc was learning things as well, but he also had no idea what. He wasn't going to linger on thinking about it though. Instead he gave her lip a light nip in return. His hand mimicked hers, with him now adding to what she was doing instead of her following him.

Maybe he'd get lucky and Harley wouldn't call any attention to things out loud.

She made a noise in her throat that definitely wasn't a word. It was something pleased, though. Both for the sensation of her hand on herself (because duh, of course) but also for the feel of his. It was - well, here was that word again: nice.

She got a little bolder, with the kneading and the tweaking. Not more rough, just more... more. And not only that: her uncovered hand on the other side got back to work too.

Marc followed along, applying extra pressure with his thumb when she gave herself a pinch. Also rocking into her as much as he could in time with the way her other hand was moving.

Really should've gotten his pants off earlier. Maybe he'd remember to do that soon-ish. Maybe.

Maybe! Harley didn't seem to be in a rush to remind him. She was trying to cant her hips up into his thrusts, enjoying the rhythm of the rocking and how it seemed to be syncing up with the way she was kneading at her breast. How every sensation in her body seemed to be talking to each other.

She exhaled a little moan into the kiss. As was her way, it sounded happy.

Marc deepened the kiss in response to the moan. He pressed in with his hips, giving her more weight on top of her and something even more solid to move up against. He didn't make much noise but his breathing seemed not unhappy.

Harley had had about a split second's worth of an urge to say something - and then he did both of those things, and who cared about words, anyway?

She yielded to the deepening of the kiss, happily, and squirmed up against him, taking all the advantage of the weight and - let's be honest now - the shape of him against her that she possibly could.

Before any further clothes came off, anyway.

Solid applied to more than one thing at the moment for sure. So did cooperation as Marc moved his free hand down to Harley's hip and helped adjust the angle they fit together so that they could fit even better as he rocked into her.

Well then! Harley made one of those exclamation point! type noises of hers, right into the kiss.

In fact, now she was making some sort of noise for practically every time he rocked against her. Funny how that worked, with the pressure and the friction and everything. And both hands - all three hands? - on her chest were working with the same rhythm, too. Kneading and squeezing and pinching in time with the peaks of the sensation from down below.

Pun intended, this was Harley.

And Marc was, yanno, not not enjoying himself. Much as he showed such things in ways besides the obvious down below. A little extra pressure with his fingers, a harder kiss to get her breathless.

Maybe even a not displeased grunt, if one could imagine such a thing.

He was showing it in being there in the first place. Harley might not have had a grasp on how he worked all the time, but there were some things she could read.

Like this. How present he was.

How breathless she was getting, all lost in the sensations and clearly just being greedy for more with how she kept moving. Getting all that friction that was making her all good kinds of restless.

Marc himself didn't know how he worked most of the time, so in some ways she was ahead of the game there.

He was paying attention for sure. Which was why he picked up on that restlessness and added a little twist to his movement, giving her even more of that friction she was enjoying.

Okay, that was a louder noise. One of those that made Harley abandon the kiss for a few seconds to let it out, only to dive right back in.

Not just to give his lip a bite, although she very much did that. Like she was repaying sensation with sensation.

Marc gave her a nip back, timed with a squeeze of his fingers on her nipple. Both to do much as she was doing, which was to add to the various heightened sensations among everything else that he hoped made her feel good.

(Much as he ever hoped about things.)

He sometimes had a very clever way of disguising his hopes in direct action. Which Harley could only approve of!

With a little gasp against his lips. And another upward squirm, somehow yet more pronounced than the others.

"Right here," Marc murmured in the space the gasp left for talking. He pressed down so she had plenty to squirm against.

And he knew how shameless Harley could be about seizing opportunities. Particularly when he already had her keyed up something mad. He pressed down? She squirmed, writhed up against him like she wanted something. Like she intended to get it.

He really should've taken his pants off when he'd had the chance.

Marc could add it to the list of regrets in his life. Not that he was fully regretting anything right now. Harley was making nice noises and moving in fun ways so at the moment Marc didn't really have a problem with it. He deepened the kiss, trying to get her more breathless than she already was.

How much further was there even left to go, in the realm of breathlessness? Suppose they would find out, since Harley certainly seemed up for the challenge, attempting to claim more and more of his mouth right back.

while making some extremely unsubtle noises of pleasure into the kiss. All that moving wasn't going to stop now, not when she had a real nice angle and even nicer pressure from him!

Marc broke the kiss enough to murmur, "I gotcha" as he kept moving against her. He squeezed harder on her breast to give her a little more to help get her where she looked to be going.

His murmur received the response of a high-pitched whine of "Maaaarc" for no real reason. It certainly wasn't an objection to what he was doing! They were both moving, and if anything, Harley was just putting everything into it. Her hips, the hands on her chest, the feverish kiss, everything.

Weird how that 'I gotcha' always sort of felt like permission, even when neither of them actually thought it was meant as one.

She mumbled something breathless and incoherent into the kiss. Just straining now, towards her goal.

Marc was honestly kind of impressed that she was able to turn his name into a whine. But that was the kind of thing that was right in Harley's wheelhouse so in a weird way it made Marc feel something in his chest he wasn't going to identify. Nice worked. Could whining be nice? Somehow with her it was.

"Gotcha," he murmured again, doing what he could to meet her where she was and maybe give a tiny bit extra to help get her there.

You asked Harley, his name was perfect for a whine! Simple, with a nice vowel right in the middle to really draw out...

She didn't employ it again, however. Instead, her breathing grew all sorts of gaspy, more and more, as the urgency in all of her actions grew and grew, and then... Her toes curled, her back arched, everything tensed, and she got there.

His name made for a good moan, too.

The moan was nice. All her noises were nice. As was the way she felt as things fired off within her.

Marc kept moving with her, giving her what she needed to get up and over that edge. He eased the kissing just enough to make it easier for her to breathe, but he didn't go anywhere else. Instead he took in the view, possibly even with the goal of remembering it for later.

As the biggest peak subsided and Harley's body began to relax, she sort of... flopped away from the kiss, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath.

Words and babbling were likely to return to her in a sec, just not immediately. She looked flushed, and dazed, in the best ways.

Marc eased his movements when she looked to be in the zone of just being. But he stayed where he was, watching her.

A few more blinks, and the daze wore off enough for a laugh to bubble through, tugging Harley's lips into something elated along with it. "Jesus Christ, baby, what are we? Sixteen? Fifteen and three quarters?" she asked, amused, looking at him now. Still a little breathless in her afterglow. "Feels like I end up comin' in my undies more often than I do on your dick!"

Factually incorrect, but let her have her fun.

Edited 2024-12-02 07:11 (UTC)

"Stop wearing things you look hot in," Marc told her.

Not at all serious given that more often than not she was dressed comfortably around him. Case in point the current onsie.

"Well if I'd known the fuzz gets ya goin'..." Harley retorted, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. (Her free one. The one with his hand on top of it, over her breast? That could stay for now.) "Okay, I still woulda worn it." No surprise there. "It's comfy and you think I look hot in it? Score!"

"You look hot in everything," he told her. And then gave her a kiss because it was the kind of thing you kissed someone after saying.

It cut off Harley's "Yeah, yeah", but that wasn't a big loss. She was happy enough to kiss him back, her fingers gently rubbing the line of his jaw as she did.

"Just an excuse to come by and do laundry," Marc told her when he let the kiss go.

Harley snickered, like she hadn't expected that but was delighted by it.

"Aw, but that feels like you should make even more of a mess of my clothes," she teased. "Yanno, to really give me an excuse!"

"We'll get something with tomato sauce for dinner then," Marc replied.

Ignore how he was assuming he'd stay for dinner.

Harley was assuming he'd stay for dinner and breakfast, so that only sounded natural to her!

She snickered, and stole another quick kiss. And asked, "In the meantime... whatcha wanna do about Big Marc?"

Yes, really.

For that he was going to roll onto his back. Though he was going to hold on to her to pull her along and get her on top of him if she let him.

"Surprise me."

Harley made another surprised noise that immediately dissolved into a laugh. And yes, she did let him roll her right along with him.

"Ooh, surprise you? Careful what ya say, mister!"

"Marc," he said, ever helpful.

He knew she knew. This is what counted as funny for him.

"Mis-ter," Harley replied, jabbing him in the shoulder with her finger twice, once for each syllable. "And focus or you're gettin' nothing!"

Neither a credible nor a serious threat in the slightest.

Also hilarious, since... Harley.

"Looking right atcha," Marc pointed out.

Which he was. Kind of warmly. Not entirely about heat either.

"Oh, I of all people know that doesn't mean shit for focus," Harley replied, with a little snort. Still, she stole a quick kiss, then pushed herself a little more upright, sitting up to straddle him. That a lot of her weight landed squarely onto his hips was no accident.

"Right, what're we gonna do with you...?"

The big thinky face made it a rhetorical question.

Marc put his hands on her hips and just watched her. His eyes went half lidded at the nice pressure she was adding to the situation. But far be it for him to interrupt otherwise. The view was nice no matter what.

The faint, gentle rocking was definitely just to help Harley think, too.

She ran her fingers up and down his arms, too, but that part was just for her.

Marc kept watching her, enjoying that on and off pressure she was doing. Also the contrast of her baring what evidence there was of what just happened - literally baring in the case of her chest - and the onesie.

It felt her somehow.

It was extremely Harley to not worry about such petty details. At least when she had something else to be focusing on.

Like keeping up that rocking, and smirking down at him, idly scratching the nails on one hand down the exposed parts of his stomach.

"Hmmh," she hummed, in an exaggerated show of thoughtfulness. "So what've I got here? A strapping specimen of a man, half-dressed - and testing the structural integrity of the front of his pants, by the feel of it."

"Strapping, huh?" Marc asked. It wasn't that specific word per se, more he was never sure what was going to come his way as a compliment. From her or anyone.

"Strapping, yeah!" Harley confirmed readily. "And don't you worry, I'm not expectin' ya to agree with me on it."

"Dunno if I've ever been called that before," Marc said. Of course it was debatable if he'd bother to remember if he had been.

"Would you remember?" Harley retorted, because yeah. She leaned forward a little, running her hands up to his chest. "Or would it just go in one ear an' out the other, because it doesn't really matter to ya?"

"Hum?" Marc replied, deliberately doing an imitation of something going in one ear and out the other.

Hilarious to him, really.

It got Harley flicking her nails against one of his nipples. What horrible punishment, truly.

"Ha, ha," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Made you laugh," Marc replied. He was even taking sarcastic laughter as a win.

"I don't think you know how laughs work," Harley informed him primly.

Or at least as primly as she knew how to.

Which was not very.

"This can't be the first time you've noticed that," Marc said with a smirk.

"Won't be the last, either," Harley retorted.

And gave his nipple a light, experimental little tweak. More as distraction than anything, because she was great at being distracting!

Marc had to nod since, yanno, fair. In the meanwhile he moved his hands up on her hips, shifting under her in a way that purely coincidentally got more rocking between them.

Coincidentally, Harley's little forward lean was great for reciprocating that, especially once she settled one hand against his chest for balance.

"So I'm thinkin' I've got some options..."

Marc moved with her. To help her with her balance, of course.

"I'm listening."

Insert your own joke here about what a rare event that was for him.

His moving was not helping with her balance. Other things, though, maybe.

He should definitely keep at it!

"There's a good old-fashioned blowie, of course," Harley said, mock thoughtful in her tone, head tilted, gaze cast off to one side, the works. "That one's always a crowd-pleaser." He was the crowd, clearly. (No, not like that.) "Or a nice hand job! Got some good new lube for a smooth ride. Or, there's always the combo deal, a li'l bit of Rosie Palms, a li'l bit of rosy lips..."

And no, that wasn't all, she could keep going. Just pausing for a thoughtful sigh.

It wasn't like the movement was doing bad things for Marc either, so it was fine all around.

He watched her show of thoughtfulness. "This how you were when you were doing your... doctor, thing?"

He meant earning the degree. He didn't know the details.

Harley's movement stopped, immediately. Her head tilted in a genuine show of confusion.

"What?"

He probably didn't mean it the way her immediate kneejerk instinct took it.

"Proving you'd earned it," Marc explained. "The degree."

It made sense in his head. But that in and of itself meant a high likelihood it didn't make sense to anyone else.

Yeah, not so much!

"... What?" Harley said. Again. "What're you sayin'? About proving myself? For my degree?"

"Isn't that a thing people do?" Marc asked. "Talk about what they studied?"

"Oh," Harley said, now.

And then tilted her head even further to the side, gesturing to both of them. "And what's that got to do with this...?"

"You were acting thoughtful," Marc explained, gesturing up at her. "Like you were presenting a case."

"... Ohhhh."

Yeah, it really did take until that for Harley to fully parse what he'd been saying.

"I thought you were tryin' to imply I'd used sex to get there."

"What?" Marc actually made a face. it was probably a sign of how much of a guy he was that that possibility hadn't even occurred to him. "No. I meant you looked smart."

Well, there'd been plenty of guys insinuating that while she'd been pursuing her doctorate.

"Oh." A beat, and then Harley brightened a little. "Did I?"

"Yeah," Marc said, like that was obvious. "Usually do."

That too as though it were obvious.

Well, that made one of them!

"Huh? I do?"

"Yeah?" Marc replied, not sure where he'd lost her on this one.

It was Harley: sometimes she could get lost going down a completely straight hallway, if the pictures on the walls caught her interest enough.

"I didn't know that."

He'd definitely told her before.

"Maybe I just got a little confused."

"Like I'm gonna judge somebody for confusion?" Marc pointed out. "Practically my only hobby."

Occasionally being confused, he meant. Which he'd kind of stated in a confusing manner, appropriately enough.

"Ya just said judging is your hobby," Harley pointed out, helpfully.

But she also thought it probably made his point, yeah.

"Being confused," Marc clarified. "Happens often enough I might as well enjoy it."

"Yeah, I thought that version would make more sense," Harley replied, because, well. She had! "Anyway, I got confused 'cause I was tryin' to lay out some of my best dirty talk and then suddenly we were on my degree?"

He'd probably figured that part out already, Harls.

"You being smart is hot," Marc said, in a way that indicated the connection to dirty talk was obvious to him.

Harley's fingertips tapped against his chest, a restless little gesture she wasn't all that aware of.

She wa smiling and faintly frowning at the same time. "Yeah?" she asked. "And my dirty talk sounds smart to ya? That's really a new one."

"Huh," Marc replied. He had something of an editorial comment on that but in a rare moment of potential wisdom he kept it to himself so the conversation didn't get more off track than it already was. Instead he went with, "Good you're into strange I guess?"

Off track? Them? Never!

"I am very into strange," Harley confirmed readily. "Especially 'cause sometimes strange is into me."

"Sometimes literal," Marc said.

What? She wasn't the only one who could make those kinds of comments sometimes.

She was not, and it was always a delight to be reminded! As was evident from Harley's laugh.

"Exactly," she said, smirking. And rocked against him just a bit, as if she'd just remembered what they'd actually been doing. (Only because she kind of had just remembered. Shut up.) "Sometimes strange likes to get all up in me."

Marc rocked up into her as his poor pants again had to suffer. "Strange and nuts."

Pun not intended.

Pun absolutely heard, though! Harley laughed louder.

"Oh, them, too!"

Though sure, there was a little something else in the noise as well. She wasn't unaffected by the state of his pants, by any means.

"Hardy ha," Marc said, obligingly. He moved his hands up and down her thighs, enjoying the feel of them as long as they were talking.

"What, ya want me to leave the nuts alone?" Harley retorted, unrepentant.

"If you did that we'd have to stop taking," Marc said.

Because they were both nuts, you see.

"Oh, ha ha," Harley replied, as if she had any room to talk. "'Cause we're mixed nuts."

As good a time as any to settle more of her weight against him.

"Doing pretty good on mixing," Marc said.

They were both still half dressed, even Marc would admit the "good" needed that qualifier.

"But we could do better, hunh?" Harley teased.

And abruptly slid a little further back. It took her hands away from his chest, but allowed them to slide over the front of his pants. Very unsubtle about cupping the shape of him.

"Aw, look at the poor caged beastie."

"Your fault," Marc told her.

Also his own for not taking his pants off earlier.

"Did I stop you from takin' your pants off?" Harley retorted because yes, narrative, it was also his own fault! "I don't remember doing that!"

She seemed inclined to help now, though, since her hands moved to actually undo his pants.

"You distracted me," Marc said. As though she'd done it on purpose.

"Oh sure, blame it on my feminine wiles, why doncha!" Harley replied merrily. "Though guess it makes for a refreshing change to get blamed for a guy not managing to get it outta his pants!"

Speaking of... With the fly undone, she was going to need some assistance with this downward tug.

"Consider it a compliment," Marc told her. He lifted his hips to help with the pants. What that did to her still on top of him remained to be seen.

Right away? It meant Harley lifting her weight off him (mostly on his thighs at this point, anyway) to make room for both his moving and what she was about to do.

Which was obviously dragging both jeans and underwear down past his hips.

"There he is! Hello, darling!"

Marc watched her, shaking his head in bemusement. "You're one of a kind."

Harley looked up, amused, with an exaggerated raise of her eyebrows. "What, your other girls don't say hi to your junk? That's just impolite!"

"Can't say there's ever been conversations," Marc said.

Insert your own joke here about there not being much difference trying to get a conversation out of Marc himself.

"Ah, well, he's a man of action," Harley replied, oh so seriously, gesturing down at the aforementioned junk. "Look at him, rarin' to go!"

"You get the blame for that one too," Marc said.

Or credit. One of those.

"I mean, ya did also take him real near one of his favorite places," Harley replied, because... Harley. Was there any better explanation?

But hey, on top of talking like that, she was also running her fingertips along his length, now. A very light touch, after all the frantic pressure from earlier.

Marc wasn't going to protest her assessment of things since, well, she wasn't exactly wrong.

Anyway, there were more interesting things to focus on. Like shifting to try to work with that touch she was doing.

All the more reason for Harley to smirk, pleased with herself.

Totally not just because she kept the touch very light despite his shifting. Like the awful tease that she was.

"Having fun?" Marc asked when he saw her expression.

Like she was the only one.

It just got wider, too, the smirk. "Maybe a little," Harley said.

More feather-light touching ensued, just seeking out the particularly sensitive parts now.

"Long as it's not just me," Marc said. Which was true. And also a bit of an admission. But shut up.

"Not just you," Harley replied easily, "but it is also you!"

Because no she would not shut up, actually!

"Be weird if someone else's dick showed up here," Marc said. Then, given the state of his brain, added, "Besides - yanno."

"... Do you want me to think about Steven right now?"

That was what you got, Harls.

"Really not," Marc said. "Me either."

"'Cause he's not who I want to be doin' this with," Harley clarified, needlessly. "And this is all about you being here with me. Just you."

"You and me," Marc confirmed. Ignore how natural that sounded. "Nobody else."

"Exactly," Harley said, with a very firm nod and a very pleased smile.

And patted his stomach, and smirked.

"Now, where was I?"

"Pretty sure you were being smug," Marc told her, ever helpful.

"Oh yes!" Harley replied, like she'd both actually needed the reminder and it made her instantly all smug again. "Let's see if I can make myself more smug, shall we?"

When her briefly distracted hand returned to him, her touch wasn't as light as it had been. Fingers actually wrapping around him this time, to boot.

"There's worse things," Marc said as he shifted up into her touch. It sort of sounded like he was talking to himself there? But not entirely? He was watching her regardless.

"Way worse things even I could be doing," Harley replied, as she rewarded his shifting with an actual stroke. "If I were you, I'd pick this!"

Edited 2024-12-07 19:55 (UTC)

"I am," Marc said. He kept moving with her hand. "That's what I'm saying. Worse things than - than somebody smug about getting you off."

Harley smirked at him again, but there was a warmth in it. Okay, heat, too, but both things could coexist!

"Just think how smug I'll be once you actually come!" she said. And then, with yet more mischief and a nice little twist of her wrist: "Yanno. Eventually."

Marc ran his hands up her thighs. "Planning on taking your time?"

"Got ya here with me, don't I?" Harley replied, as if that explained everything. It did to her! "Why not play a little? And everyone knows you can use the help in enjoying yourself!"

Well, she knew that, and that was really good enough for her. Also? Hand? Still moving, of course. Not too light, not too firm.

"I could use a hand?" Marc replied. He moved one of his own to trace fingers along her arm - the one with her hand wrapped around him.

"Yeah you could," Harley smirked, eyes flicking to his hand, briefly. It was nice, the touch. "For starters."

Marc caught the look. He moved his fingers in to lightly run up the inside of her arm from wrist to elbow, where the skin was more sensitive. "You are helpful."

Well, it was only fair that they were both touching some sensitive skin. Harley chuckled.

"It's like it's my middle name! Helpful."

"Not 'Fucking'?" Marc asked. Then, thinking about it. "Actually both work."

"I got two sides, like a coin!" Harley declared. "Depends on the situation!"

A beat, as she considered what she was doing. (Literally, looking down at her hand and everything.)

"But I guess when you're real lucky, ya get both."

"'s what I'm saying," Marc said. His hand lingered near her wrist, his thumb tracing circles over the pulse point. "Helpful fucking, Fucking helpful. Works both ways."

It made for a fun little loop of sensations, her hand moving around him, his thumb moving against her wrist. Harley liked it.

Although that wasn't why she laughed. "See! Always great to swing both ways!"

"I've seen you do that too," Marc replied. He kept up with the circling since she seemed to like it. "You've got all kinds of skills."

"I don't think bein' bi is a skill," Harley said, because her brain had already hopped over to a different 'swings both ways' track, as it was wont to do. "Does come with skills, though!"

Oh hey, a free dirty pun! Score!

"Mine or yours?" Marc replied, giving her a smirk.

"Why's it gotta be either-or?" Harley retorted, with a smirk right back at him.

And a conveniently timed firmer stroke since she was a giver.

She got a little noise out of him. Much as he made noises.

"Teamwork?" Marc said. Funny how they were both getting into that.

"Well we're a team, ain't we?" Harley asked merrily. Chasing another noise with how her hand moved. Made sure to give the tip some extra attention with a brush of her thumb over it. "Pinkie swear and everything!"

It said something that she actually remembered that.

No noise. But Marc's other hand trailed up her thigh to hold on firmly to her hip. "This too?"

Harley could not have smirked any wider. She was at maximum smirk - and still managed to also bite impishly on her bottom lip. Skills!

"Doesn't feel like teamwork enough for ya yet?"

"Enough, huh?" Marc said. He tugged on her arm, trying to pull her closer.

"Hey, that was my question!" Harley pointed out, snickering.

As she obliged his pulling, because she was no fool.

"Maybe I'm answering," Marc replied. He tried to lean up to kiss her.

Harley obliged that, too, leaning down to meet him.

She wasn't particularly gentle about it. Not in a bad way! Just in a 'well hello' way.

Marc was okay with that. He kissed back with a similar intensity, communicating how much her hand had keyed him up in all the ways he sucked at doing so verbally.

But he was so good communicating it like this, though! Truly, top marks! And a little moan-like noise from Harley, muffled right into the kiss.

Or whatever the whole greedy devouring sort of thing was she was doing.

Marc of course didn't do greedy. But the hand on her hip held her tighter, and his teeth scraped at her lips. Whatever somebody wanted to call that. Surely not greedy though.

Dunno, felt pretty greedy to Harley. But was she ever really a good judge of such things?

Whatever, she was biting at his lips in return, a laugh in her throat.

"Don't mind this teamwork," he said, sucking at her bottom lip.

Ignore how long he'd said that he did, in fact, mind that very thing.

"'Course ya don't," Harley teased, breathlessly, because pfft, who bothered remembering that stuff? "It benefits you."

Her tongue flicked along his lip like it was making a point.

"Oh yeah," Marc said, kissing her back. "'s what I'm known for. Caring about what benefits me."

"Well, your body does." And Harley would know - she'd pretty much scooted forward-upward enough that she was now feeling the evidence without his jeans in the way. (And, you know. All the various evidence she'd already felt before.) "That's a start."

"Feels unfair," Marc said, rocking up into her now that she was in such a nice position for it.

"Life's unfair," Harley retorted, biting at his lip again. With maybe a little downward grind. "Which part?"

She had a hunch.

"To you," Marc told her, and he gave an upward thrust into that grind.

Harley's laugh sounded just a little bit obscene, what with the little noise of pleasure that mixed into it. Which was really an answer in itself, but --

"Sweetie," she breathed against his lips, "sometimes two can benefit!"

"No harm in checking," Marc replied. He nipped at her mouth again.

"I could make it more obvious..." Harley replied, her smirk evident enough under his teeth.

"Says the lady still dressed," Marc replied. He moved his hand along the fuzziness of the cloth on her back to demonstrate.

"Yeah, and ya don't think changing that was s'posed to be part of what I was just sayin'?" Harley tsked.

And gave his lip an ever so slightly sharper bite.

Marc hissed at the bite. Not mad. Just, yanno, sharp.

"How'm I supposed to know?" Marc replied. "All talk, no action."

"Well 'scuse me all to hell for tryin' to be playful," Harley groused, not selling it in the slightest. She stole one last bite, then sat up abruptly. It was the best way for her to finally peel the fuzz fully off her top half, after all! "I'll show ya action."

"I like the view," Marc countered, likewise not really grumpy. "Sue me."

"Too much effort, sueing anyone."

Also, now that she was upright? Great opportunity for a precision strike grind down against him. Let him feel that fuzz one last time all along his length - and then she got off him. Probably not for long! But outside of ripping through fabric, it was the only way she was actually getting out of her clothes.

It would've been a shame to ruin the onsie when it was so comfortable. Marc had no opinions on the subject, of course.

He did sit up to get his clothes all the way off as long as she was doing the same. Fair was fair.

"Oh, not just laying back and enjoyin' the show?" Harley teased.

Granted, 'the show' mostly involved some very ridiculous wriggling out of her outfit, so...

"Learning from my mistakes," Marc said.

Which was impressive for him. Be proud.

"Oh wow, learning!" Harley teased, as she managed to fully kick her feet out of the onesie. Her underwear was swift to follow. "You mean you can teach yourself new tricks?"

And she reached for the cabbage leaf bowl, which did not topple over even with how careless she was about plucking one of the little foild packets out of it. Bless hot glue guns!

"With the right motivation," Marc said. He sat up to run his hand down her bare back as far down as he could reach.

Harley had missed his touch. Not knowingly, because then she would've gotten out of the onesie ages ago, but more like the missing just came in all at once when she felt his hand on her back.

So she was slow with how she turned more towards him. "And I'm the best motivation."

Marc took advantage of that slowness to let his hand linger a little lower down. Just saying hi.

"You provide incentive."

"And you provide inspiration for incentive," Harley returned, with a smirk that may have had a little something to do with his hand. "See how that works out? Teamwork!"

"Feel like you get plenty creative without me," Marc said. Though this was not a complaint. Certainly not by how he moved his hand around to the front of her to help with any changing of position.

Smart thinking! Because Harley was now moving to return back to her original - well, most recent, anyway - position of straddling him. Just, a lot more naked, this time.

"Well yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't get creative 'cause of you, too!"

"Just didn't want to steal credit," Marc said. He kept up the movement of his fingers, taking advantage of how it was easier to do now.

"It ain't stealing if I'm offering," Harley had to point out. "Also, when am I going to be offended by a little theft?"

Marc quirked his eyebrows up. "You wouldn't be pissed if someone stole your stuff?"

In return, Harley's eyebrows went down in a very 'that's a silly question' kind of way. "That's different!" she exclaimed.

Yes, because of reasons, you see.

"So I'm trying to be respectful and shit," Marc told her.

Like a gentleman.

"Yeah but you weren't stealing from me," Harley argued. Did she actually remember exactly what they'd been talking about? Doubtful. "And if ya did, I'd honestly be kinda impressed!"

"Be impressed with myself," Marc admitted.

He'd lost a little of the conversational plot too. In his defense there was a lot to distract him.

"But if other people do it I'm gonna shoot 'em in the face," Harley concluded.

Seriously, as if it was a reasonable stance to take.

"I've noticed," Marc said, as though it was as well.

What? He'd seen how she was when Cass was in trouble. Sure, no actual shooting in the face but she'd clearly been up for it if needed.

And that insight was why they made such a good team!

"Good, so that's settled!" Harley decided, with a firm nod, and then a grin. "Now, where was I?"

There were some pretty major clues here, Harls.

"Going for a ride?" Marc suggested. Not that they'd been that specific but their current position did lend itself to that.

"Ah, yes!" Harley said, like there was a lightbulb going off. Sometimes it wasn't obvious whether she was playing at being majorly distracted, or if it was genuine. She was smirking at him now, though: "I was s'posed to show ya action."

So, okay, maybe she did remember something. Like a surprising amount, really.

Like the fact that she was still holding something in her hand. With a grin, she tore the wrapper open.

If Marc was playing it tended to be obvious. Mainly because he wasn't good at acting.

No acting now, though, as he watched Harley with interest. "If anybody could, it's you."

"Oh, right now, you better think that," Harley teased.

While reaching down with both hands, unceremoniously, to roll the condom on him. Which really made the point of her teasing for her, didn't it?

Marc had some kind of comment in return but then Harley's hands were busy and Marc's train of thought was not stopping at communication station.

He looked pleased though, so there was that.

So did Harley, funnily enough!

Also, as she gave him an extra stroke - ostensibly to check that protection was on there good, but really just for fun - he felt plenty communicative under her hand. "Mmm, excellent."

"Not bad," Marc replied, because he really was ever himself sometimes. He did reach out to put his hands on her hips and try to encourage her closer though.

Harley snickered, as she playfully (and ineffectively) swatted at one of his hands.

"Impatient, are we?" she teased. "I suppose you have been waitin' for a while, sweetie..."

And yet that wasn't keeping her from being really very slow about shifting forward to line her body up with his, her hand still on him.

"If you want me to act like I'm not interested just say so," Marc replied, not at all serious. Not the least of which was due to how much of a challenge that would be to pull off right now.

"You couldn't, 'cause I've got evidence," Harley replied, smugly, "and it's better than your acting ski--"

Oh, what was that? Last word dissolving into a happy little moan because she chose that very moment to stop being a tease and sink down onto him/let him sink on into her?

Yes indeed!

Marc might've made a comment in return, but there was that warm, solid connection and did that need words, really? When instead he could rock up into her like a wave to make sure they fit together?

No, yeah, even Harley gave up on words for the moment.

Not that that meant she was quiet. No, she made one of her moan-laugh sort of noises, loud and unbidden and happy, as she responded to his upward surge with grinding both their hips down into the mattress.

Marc appreciated the noises. Some part of him was still surprised he liked that she wasn't quiet, but there it was.

He put both hands on her hips and held on tight. Not bruising, but firm. He used that leverage to thrust up into her with the same force she'd used to grind down. Once again meeting her where she met him.

Harley snickered some more, breathlessly. One of her hands settled on top of one of his. For balance? Something like that.

"Oh it really is teamwork again," she teased, a little haltingly, for obvious reasons. "I see!"

"You got a problem with that?" Marc asked. He gave another thrust up. To demonstrate "that" oh so helpfully.

"Nooo," Harley replied, although her voice went a little... keening in the middle of it, drawing the word out. "No problem! Opposite of a problem!"

And just to really sell it, her next move? When she thrust down, that was the very familiar thump of the headboard against the book-based padding on the wall.

That thump felt like a challenge. One Marc was happy to meet with a harder thrust of his own.

It really was good that wall wasn't connected to a neighbor.

Harley made a noise like an exclamation point, loud. She didn't know about him (yeah she did), but she was now committed to keeping every movement at a headboard-thumping intensity, like she was planning to make a Marc-shaped dent in her bed.

Fully on board with tormenting some completely imaginary neighbors.

Given their position it was a little harder - ahem - for Marc to fully drive them into the wall. But he was nothing if not ~~intense~~ dedicated to his goals. So he held on to Harley's hips nice and tight and trust up as hard as he could.

With everything his thrusts were forcing out of Harley's mouth, he was definitely contributing his share for the noise level!

Because Harley sounded like she was just bursting with both joy and pleasure. She may have babbled something breathless along those lines, too, along with the usual dirty compliments about how good he felt inside her. And, also: "Yes! Work those muscles!"

That, too. What? She currently had a fantastic view of his abs and where a lot of the strength for his movements was coming from, of course she was going to acknowledge it!

Marc wasn't to chatty, but he was doing his part with those noises she'd imitated so well earlier. Also with openly admiring the view he had as well, and not just because of how bouncy it was. (Though it wasn't not because of that either.)

He let go of her right hip, trailing his hand up her side to her neck, and then up to cup her cheek. He let it rest there as much as he could given all the movement going on.

Harley could help steady it a little, leaning into the touch as best she could, beaming.

Panting, too, but that was less soft. That was as harsh as the way she was riding him.

The lean meant Marc could try brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. This while holding her left hip harder and using that to help him thrust right back into her with a goal of trying to see how quickly he could get her even more breathless.

He was sweating and breathing hard too but yanno. Whatever.

It was an extra workout! Except only one of them had any sort of a gym routine, and Harley found this a vastly preferable way of getting all sweaty and flushed, what with the rapidly building something, low in the pit of her stomach.

Aside from the breathlessness, some of her noises with each thrust were starting to communicate that, too.

Marc was now at a point where he actually was saying things as well about how good Harley looked and felt. He brushed his thumb over her lips, watching her as he added a twist of his hips to give them both some extra sensation.

Harley gasped at it, managing to make even that into a loud and ragged noise, right now.

She also flicked her tongue out against his thumb, because she was incorrigible.

Marc couldn't be called incorrigible. But he did go to slide his thumb into her mouth if she felt like doing things with it. It wasn't as though he didn't enjoy how the lick felt with everything else going on.

Oh, there was a glint in Harley's eye, now, her gaze locked onto his. She let him slide his thumb past her lips, and gave it just a little graze of her teeth just as a hello.

And then let her lips close around it for a little suck, timed - by chance or design, who could even say anymore? - with one of the thrusts between them.

Harley earned an extra groan for that one. Not articulate but she was probably used to his sounds enough by now to know it was complimentary. No coincidence at all when he pushed his thumb in at the same time another one of those thrusts happened.

Which made Harley make another noise, nice and muffled and vibration-y around his thumb, her tongue all pressed against it. Clearly in no hurry to make him take his hand all the way back.

In fact, with both his hands full, Harley's hand came off the one he had on her hip, and slid down to right above where he continued to pound into her (as much as it was otherwise a mutual pounding). She could kick things up one last notch.

Marc normally didn't mind giving her a hand himself if she needed one. But he reminded himself Harley was outspoken about what she wanted, so if she wasn't asking him to help out he wasn't going to worry about it. Instead he focused on holding her and thrusting into her and letting those vibrations in her mouth resonate throughout as he felt himself getting near that edge too.

And Harley loved it when he got helpful, too! But she was also very greedy, so when she already liked what both his hands were doing, and as far as she knew he didn't possess the super power of a secret third arm... She could be her own helping hand, no problem.

It didn't take too much rubbing for all her noises to start becoming all that more urgent. And her hips were still moving with their insistent force, too, meeting him thrust for thrust.

And then thrust for suck, when it came to his thumb. There was an excitement to feeling him in more places than one, apparently.

Marc could understand that. He didn't possess a secret any spare body part, so thumb worked as a substitute way to feel her in more than one place too.

He kept up his thrusting, above and below, taking in all those sensations as the heat at the base of his spine grew and got him closer to the edge, ready to tip over at the slightest touch but trying to hold on so she could get where she needed...

Whereas Harley was not trying to hold on in the slightest. She even had to finally give up on her efforts to keep her eyes open, lost in all the other sensations.

But if he managed to keep his own eyes open, he was treated to her brow knitting together with all the effort and want, the insistent and continuing bounce of her chest, the visible tension in her abs, and the absolutely furious rubbing her hand was doing, fingertips slick and slippery --

Until her hips stuttered, falling out of their rhythm, suddenly more concerned with making sure he was really shoved all up in her than anything else - giving her something to feel in full when she came, about half a second later, groaning around his thumb from somewhere deep down in her chest as she did.

Marc was able to see it. Between knowing she got there and feeling it all over, it wasn't long before he hit his own climax like a punch to the gut.

His hand on her hip had almost bruising intensity as he rocked up into her with a loud grunt. Still no more articulate than he ever was, but there were good odds she knew by now that the sound and the way his face was screwed up meant it was all hitting him well.

Oh yes, Harley was more than familiar with what all of that entailed, and she even managed to pry her eyes open to a half-lidded state just to see the look on his face. There was always a kind of a proud extra thrill in affecting him. And in moments like this? Part of that came from feeling like they were in tune with each other.

And like he was extremely present in the moment with her.

She made another noise of her own in response to the grunt, like it just heightened something for her.

When she looked down she'd find Marc looking back up at her through his lashes. Not in anything coquettish - as though there was ever a question that Marc could be. More that, like her, the temptation to let go and keep his eyes closed was high.

But he was watching her instead, taking in the view as he breathed heavily and held on tight. Though the hand that cupped her cheek was gentle.

See? Present. Feeling the peak begin to calm down towards the afterglow, Harley's lips tugged into a dreamy smile.

Of course, one that was accompanied by her teeth giving his thumb a playful bite.

"Watch it," Marc mumbled, in a token protest and no more. He pulled his thumb out of her mouth and used it to caress her lips.

"Nah," Harley murmured under his touch, "but I'll watch you, anytime."

"Not so bad yourself," Marc replied. He moved his thumb back to caress her cheekbone.

Harley chuckled.

And then she finally began to slump down towards him, planting one hand against the mattress beside him to keep from just faceplanting into him.

Once she was fully slumped, Marc folded his arms around her, resting them on her back.

Because that was also comfortable. No other reason.

None whatsoever, Harley was sure! She settled down with her nose smushed against his cheek. Was it comfortable? Eh, but it was comforting.

"Mmmmh," she hummed, low, pleased. "God but you're a fantastic fuck."

"Pretty good yourself," Marc said. Which surely she knew was effusive coming from him.

Harley was expecting nothing different, honestly.

It made the urge to tease him about it unstoppable, though: "Stop, you're makin' me blush."

"Everyone knows I word good," he told her. He moved one hand up to idly toy with her hair.

"So good, baby," Harley sighed, somewhere between teasing and just distractedly happy about the toying. "Top notch worder, you are."

"You're something else," Marc replied. It was complimentary, even if others might have used that wording to be an insult.

Harley had heard it from him enough times to recognize it for what it was.

"A world class sucker of other people's thumbs?" she suggested.

It may have been difficult to see in her current position, but Marc gave her side eye.

"How many we talking about here?"

"I think you can be world class with just one," Harley mused, because the qualification aspect was definitely what he'd been asking about, "so long as ya do it good."

Definitely. Nothing else in there had twigged something in him that Marc wasn't examining too closely.

"No complaints on my end," he said. He moved his hand to rub the back of her neck. "So guess that counts. For whatever the fuck my opinion's worth."

"Well you're the one that stuck it in my mouth," Harley replied easily, "so I guess it's got some weight, your opinion."

"No complaints," Marc told her.

He also rest his other arm more heavily against her back. Because weight, you see.

Harley was already pretty damn relaxed, and yet the weight managed to coax her into yet more melting against him. Not that she was predictable or anything.

"Yup, that seems right and weighty," she teased, with a sigh. "And it was fun, too. I like it when there's a little surprise involved."

"Surprise?" Marc asked. He tried to think of what they'd done that had been surprising. His lack of imagination was retroactively working against him.

Harley had some concerns about his short-term memory, too. Also he was now missing out on a comical frown.

"Didn't we ju--" she started, but, immediately found a different track for her thoughts. "Well I guess it wouldn't be a surprise to you that you'd be into puttin' your fingers in my mouth, huh?"

"It's a surprise to you I'm into touching you?" Marc asked. Then he frowned and realized maybe it still was. He hugged her a little tighter. No reason.

"Touchin' me? No." But also don't you dare let go now, Spector. "I'm just discovering the ways you're into touching me!"

"Okay," Marc said. "Glad you're into it I guess."

Then he gave her hair a light tug. Touching, you see.

"Yeah, I'm into hair pulling, too," Harley joked - or, well, her tone did.

Whatever, that part wasn't news, anyway.

Marc frowned, thoughtful.

"What aren't you into?"

Had they ever talked about that? He wasn't sure.

Probably not. Harley wasn't really one to dwell too much on the negative - even when it came to explicitly setting boundaries.

"Like... what's on the 'no' list?" she checked.

(When was the last time someone had asked, anyway?)

"Yeah," Marc said. He shrugged a single shoulder. "If you wanna say."

Fuck knew he tended not to bring it up until a button got pushed by accident. Which wasn't the best way to handle it but at the same time he couldn't point fingers if she didn't want to say in advance either.

Harley shrugged, too, and made a quizzically non-committal noise - simply because she wasn't really sure she'd ever actually thought about it before.

(Don't think too closely about that, it was kind of sad.)

"Well," she said, after a beat to ponder, "I definitely don't like bein' forced into anything. Asked to do stuff, sure, sometimes told to do stuff, also yummy? But not forced."

Marc nodded. The hand on the back of her neck rubbed in a gentle motion.

"Same," he said. He didn't mention how for him it was in part due to how he had enough of being told what to do in his life. Not being able to say no to a god would do that for you.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out, anyway, and he was talking to an actual shrink. "I mean, that's the big one," Harley mused. "What else...?" She almost sounded like she would've been stroking her chin thoughtfully if not for their positions.

And then piped up again with, "Oh, getting jizz on my face is the fuckin' worst."

"Not into it anyway," Marc said. "Anywhere else?"

The way he asked was more about keeping it in mind as long as they were on the topic, not that he felt a need for the option elsewhere.

"Literally anywhere that's not near my eyes or directly on my hair is fine," Harley assured him. In a manner of speaking, anyway, because he didn't sound like he needed reassurance. "If it's not givin' me an eye infection or annoying me in the shower then I'm probably just gonna find it hot."

She paused for a thought.

"Okay, and the face is like -- spillage from a blowjob or a tit fuck is fine," she added, as clearly pertinent information. "But I am gonna claw out the eyes of the next guy that treats my peepers like a fuckin' bullseye."

Marc pulled a face that could only be described as ew.

"Dick move," he said. "Doing that."

No pun intended.

"Technically they're all dick moves," Harley pointed out, since she couldn't resist a pun even while complaining about something. "But yeah. So don't do that!"

Edited 2024-12-16 06:18 (UTC)

"Got no plans to," Marc said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. For no reason. "Not my kink."

"If I ask what is," Harley replied, nuzzling into his neck, also for no reason, "you're just gonna say you've got none, right?"

"Pretty much," Marc said. "Don't really need much extra. Got enough extra in my life."

"But ya still got regular turn-ons," Harley prompted. "Or, hell, since I'm sharin' my turn-offs, tell me about those! So I can avoid them."

"No marking without asking," Marc said. Which they'd covered before but sometimes with Marc it was an internal memory prompt. "Not into pretend punishment or any of that shit. I do it for my job, I'm not into it in the bedroom."

"Professional punishment only, got it," Harley replied, with a tone that suggested a firm nod, even though she didn't actually go through with one. "And I guess that goes both ways? Not that I'm hankering to dole any out, I just wanna be thorough!"

"Yeah, nothing in either direction," Marc said. He kept idly rubbing the back of her neck. "Doesn't turn my crank. Even joking."

"Got it," Harley said again. She would've been committing it to memory, only it had pretty much been seared on there since that one time she'd already steered a little too close to it for his comfort. "And ya only like to be called adult names, too."

Not related, except of course through a different 'oh shit, I shouldn't do that' revelation.

She was just showing she remembered.

Marc did remember her listening, which meant a lot.

"Right," Marc said. He grimaced. "Adult in general, kinda my thing."

Convenient how many of these things could be explained without having to go back to the original source of the issues he had with them. Not that anything he was saying was untrue. He was being honest. Just there were more reasons than the ones he was able to talk about.

And again: shrink. Harley had the professional expertise to have some pretty solid guesses about the reasons he wasn't touching.

Besides, no meant no, and he was under no expectation to explain himself.

"Good thing I like doin' very adult things with ya, then, hunh?" she teased, because she couldn't help herself.

"Lucked out on my end," Marc replied in kind.

Which was also possibly a comment on how much he could sense and appreciate that she was giving him space on the things he needed untouched.

Harley pressed a very lazy kiss to his jaw. "And you didn't we should get into this, originally," she teased. "Look at all the fun adult times you woulda missed out on!"

"At least two," Marc said.

Since she'd just kissed his haw she could probably see the look that said he was teasing right back. It resembled a smile.

But now he only had himself to blame for how loud and near his ear Harley's faux indignant squawk of "Two?!" happened.

Marc wasn't laughing. Everyone knew he didn't.

"At least," he said. He moved his hand on her back down to give her ass a light pinch.

Harley gave a little twitch in response. "Why are you lowballin' me like that?"

He could have that one for free.

"At least means not less," Marc said. "Nothing about more. It's all been good, Doc, I promise."

"That's more like it!" Harley decided, and pressed a loud kiss against his cheek.

And then a couple more, just for good luck or something.

"Gonna make me deaf," Marc muttered in response to the first kiss. But he didn't sound or look like he minded.

"Please, I was so much louder earlier," Harley scoffed - and pressed a few more kisses along his cheek, towards his lips, just because she could.

"Not by my ear," Marc grumbled. But he was going to kiss her back so between that and his bad acting there wasn't remotely the chance he was coming off as serious.

Harley still managed to snicker a little, even as she kissed him, slow and playful.

That was a softer sound.

Marc kissed her back, folding her into his arms. Playful wasn't quite his speed, but he could do slow easily enough.

And it was fine! Harley was used to being the person with the more playful energy, anyway - it was part of why some people found her so damn vexin'.

Plus, you know. She was trying to melt into his arms again, so he had that going for him.

Melting Marc could handle. Or at least being the person melted on. If the person doing the melting was, yanno, different from other people in some way. Maybe he could be ~~into it~~ okay with it.

As she could probably tell from the way he kissed her while one hand slowly moved up and down her back. He was okay with it. Maybe more than okay.

More than okay seemed pretty good.

Harley's hand had found his shoulder, and her thumb was rubbing back and forth against it. Soothing, easy.

"You're not bad," Marc told her between kisses. Might've been a little nuzzling of her cheek too.

"You're not half terrible yourself, sweetie," Harley murmured.

Definitely with a little nuzzling in return.

"Guess I gotta try harder," Marc said.

To be good? To be terrible? Hard to say.

"Baby, you were plenty hard."

What?

That got a snort out of him that could be interpreted as a laugh.

"Nobody but you to blame."

Harley kissed the corner of his mouth as he not-laughed. "And damn proud of it, too!"

"You do good work," Marc said, giving her more of an actual grin this time. "You can be."

Harley grinned back. She even lifted her head a little more properly so that he could see it.

"Oooh, an actual compliment! Must've got ya good!"

"I can take it back if you want," Marc said, not remotely serious.

Harley prodded him in the shoulder. "Don't you dare! This is my proud moment of triumph and I deserve it!"

"Yes, ma'am," Marc replied. There may have been another grin there. Just for her.

And Harley accepted it with much glee. "Good response," she decided. "Now I might actually use my skills on ya again!"

As if that hadn't always been the case.

"Gimme a minute at least," Marc said, not entirely serious. But he had met them before so, yanno.

"But that's so long to wait," Harley whined.

Not at all serious.

"Mediate or something," Marc suggested.

Extremely not serious. Particularly if anyone imagined him trying to meditate.

Yeah, Harley scoffed at it. "It's too loud in here for that."

And yes, she tapped her temple when she said 'in here'.

"Although I guess I could always busy myself with my usual dirty daydreamin'... That's sorta like meditation, right?"

Marc nodded, because he very much got the whole 'loud in here' thing.

"What? You don't like my conversation?" he asked, about the rest of it.

"Were you gonna converse with me all through meditation?"

"The way I do it, yeah," Marc said.

Probably not a shock that comparatively speaking Marc would rather talk than meditate.

"Uh huh," Harley replied, shifting until she could slide both hands on top of each other on his chest, then rest her chin on them. "So whatcha wanna talk about?"

"Crap, I gotta think of something too?" Marc asked. He moved his hands so they could still rest on her back in her new position. "Knew there was a catch."

"Always is," Harley informed him cheerfully. "Keep up!"

"I did the thing about what you don't like," Marc said, clearly hoping to get out of coming up with something.

"Oh, are we going back to that now?" Harley inquired, helpfully. Somewhat. "Recycling topics? Something left you're hopin' to discover or share? It is very helpful to be curious about your partners, you know!"

"I'm curious about what you wanna talk about," Marc said. "I did the last one. Unless you got a thing about the weather."

"What kinda thing about the weather?"

You'd brought this distraction upon yourself, Marc.

It was his own fault for never developing conversational skills.

"I dunno," Marc said. "It's a thing people talk about."

Did he pay attention when they did? No.

"I'm impressed you even know that much," Harley replied. "Seems like exactly the sorta thing you'd tune out stat."

Like she did, yeah.

"Not saying I'd listen," Marc told her. He left off the part about how Steven was the one who could actually talk about the weather with people. Best not to bring him up given Marc and Harley's current... situation.

"That's more like it," Harley replied, like she was pleased her first hunch had been correct. It was fun to be right! "And ya shouldn't! Weather's weather, yanno? It's gonna be happening whether you talk about it or not!"

"Boring anyway," Marc said.

Probably not a thing he should mention to anyone on the island who could control the weather. Times like that it was good Marc was a poor conversationalist.

"Right?" Harley replied, with hugely raised eyebrows because see, he got it! "Let's not talk about weather any more'n we already have."

"You wanna talk about something else or just close your eyes?" Marc asked.

He'd noticed that thing where she slept on him. Funnily enough he didn't seem to mind it.

"Close my eyes?" Harley asked, not immediately making the connection. "Why, you gonna whip out some sorta surprise on me?"

"To sleep," Marc said. "How much your dreams surprise you is outta my hands."

"You wanna put me to sleep?" Harley asked, with a snicker.

"I'm saying it's an option," Marc told her with a roll of his eyes. "If you don't have anything you wanna talk about."

"I dunno," Harley teased, "maybe you're just lookin' for a blanket but you're too shy to ask for it."

Yes, she did still remember who she was talking to.

"You got me," Marc said. "I'm shy."

He did settle underneath her like he was appreciating a blanket though.

"Sooo shy," Harley teased, on what was almost a purr.

Just ignore how she was also sliding her hands off his chest so she could fully snuggle against it.

Snuggling? What snuggling? Marc certainly noticed no such thing. Just like there was no such thing as his hand moving lazily up and down her back to encourage her to get comfy.

Or Harley making a very content humming noise as she settled down further. That didn't happen either!

But it sounded happy.

"I gotcha," Marc murmured, still rubbing her back.

"I know you do," Harley sighed happily. A bit of a mumble, really. "An' I like ya for it."

Needful Things Building; Monday Afternoon

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