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Favorite Parts	By : silvercat Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Favorite Parts
- 1
Harley loved winter. The snow, the decorations. How things slowed down. And when it was cold like this, Mistah J didn't object to her sleeping with him like this. He was still asleep, a half-smile on his lips.
She looked up at him. Those red lips, almost feminine. They could be so soft against hers or draw back to bare pointed teeth, intent on leaving red marks on her flesh. His eyelids flickered; they hid those deep green eyes that she sometimes thought she'd drown in. She brushed his hair back from his face, soft and shiny like spring grass. She loved his hair, loved running her hands through it.
She traced down his long neck. Pure, like fresh fallen snow. He seemed so delicate when he was asleep. Her hand continued down. His shoulders were bony. She remembered some of her previous boyfriends. Jocks with thick shoulders, thick necks like stallions. One of them, she couldn't even remember his name now, loved to flex and boast. "Look at these guns," he'd say.
Her puddin could take them all. She knew the deceptive strength of those shoulders, those arms that were wrapped around her. His chest was hairless and unblemished, his nipples white. She hadn't even noticed the lack the first time, until she'd stroked his chest and felt them. Her hand grazed his hard perfect stomach. She'd thought he would be a mass of scar tissue, but he always healed so fast and easily, every cut and wound disappearing into that ivory skin. He was like a marble statue, pure and immortal.
She rubbed the back of his hands. Those long fingers, like an artist's. His hand were soft. She was always surprised how soft they were, considering how hard he worked, the constant stress against guns and chemicals. Soft and flawless. She kissed them gently. God, they were so strong. He'd stroke her sometimes, held tight against him, those fingers caressing every inch of skin, finding every sweet spot. She'd moan and he'd chuckle, dipping a finger into her, then two, making her so hot and wet. If she'd been good, he'd feel, stroke, massage until he had to hold her up, dripping down his hand. If he was disappointed in her, he'd rub until she needed it so bad, then drop her. Sometimes he'd watch as she'd try to finish herself off, with fingers that were never long enough, never strong enough, and laugh as she whimpered and begged for him.
He made a soft sound and she froze. She timidly checked but he was still asleep. She hoped. She snuggled against him, her burning cheeks pressed against his chest. He didn't seem to notice the cold half the time, but his skin was chilly. Her hands continued to explore.

His back, so perfectly defined. She traced along his ribs and could count every one. His ass- she often said he had the most perfect butt in the world. He was so vain and he loved that.
His hips, his...
A soft chuckle, only felt. She started to draw away, but the stubborn pressure of his arm kept her still.
She massaged his balls with the hard motions he liked. He was hard, but it was only morning wood. She'd love to transform it into real lust and as long as he wasn't stopping her...
She glanced up. He was watching her with nearly closed eyes, a half-formed smirk on his lips. She rubbed a little harder, then moved to massaging the underside of his cock.
His arm relaxed slightly.
The head was white, just the very tip faint pink, but that would brighten with the right touch... She squeezed, one hand massaging around the base, the other wrapped it and moving in slow deliberate strokes. He was starting to really harden. His skin was heating under her touch and she squeezed harder and stroked a little faster.
Now wasn't the time to tease him. He hated the soft touches she had used to use. He'd made that clear one early day when she'd come up behind him (mistake 1) when he was working on a plan (mistake 2) and stroked softly along his shoulders (strike three Harl, and wasn't hindsight a bitch). She'd taken a sudden elbow to the face and he'd forced her to the floor, hands wrapped around her neck. It'd been the first time she'd seen him really, truly angry, and she'd been certain she'd die seeing it.
"Stop tickling me woman!" he'd growled.
She couldn't breath but she'd managed to squeak out something. Or maybe he grew bored, but he finally let go and she'd crawled back into her room and hid. She finally figured out he couldn't feel it. It was like ghost touches, unreal. That was why he was rough on her (it wasn't that he didn't care, it wasn't) and the first time she'd reciprocated with hard stroking hands along his back she'd thought he'd climax right then. His eyes had grown wide, then he purred, kissing her with matching pressure.
Now he was watching her down that eagle nose, his hands slipping down her back. What did he want?
"Puddin?" she whispered.
He pulled her chin up and kissed her, gently. He'd learned what she liked (anything he'd give her, but oh when he was so gentle) and sometimes gave it. He pushed her down, climbing over her, and spread her open with those fingers before thrusting into her, hard and ready.
This was her favorite part. When she knew she was his.
(crossposted from my Livejournal and the JokerxHarley fanfic site)
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Favorite Parts