Title: Better Than Wine
Author: Tiamat’s Child
Fandom: Batman – some odd mix of various canons
Rating: R, I think.
Summary: Harley has a plan. A big, brilliant, master plan.
Disclaimer: Not mine. So not mine. Alas.
Author's Notes: I blame the plot generator.
Better Than Wine
It had seemed like a good idea at the time it had popped into her head and began to demand a plan.. It really had. Harley had been bored and lonely and starting to wonder if Ivy would ever get her (not so) subtle hints, because, really, Harley had done everything but throw herself at Ivy’s feet and say, “Take me!” and she’d tried both the throwing and the saying separately. And Ivy didn’t seem to get it.
Which was strange, because Ivy was so very smart and brave and, well, frankly sensual, and she seemed to be really in touch with her body and not really all that into taboos, as was made really, really clear every time they ran into Robin and lots of bad, wrong touching resulted, though, come to think of it it really was all Robin’s fault because what kind of sane (and Robin was, supposedly, sane, though Harley had her doubts because come on, bright red and bright yellow and bright green all on the same tiny costume? Not really the best decision ever and she’d swear he almost enjoyed getting taken hostage – he certainly looked happy enough whenever Batman rescued him, all bright and beamy and Batman always looked kinda happy too, though, come to think of it that’s just about as wrong as the costume and she knew she and Mister J were a little worrisome and glass houses and all but, still, ICK!) what kind of sane boy wore hot pants around the bad people with no morals? Especially Ivy and hmmm… she hadn’t tried hot pants.
But she didn’t. What she tried was Ivy’s special pollen. The sex pollen. Because, really, that was just too perfect, because what she wanted was a horny Ivy, because she could get Ivy to pay every other kind of attention to her if she tried but she just couldn’t get Ivy to want her, which could have been because Ivy didn’t like girls like that, but it wasn’t because Harley was not stupid and she’d seen Ivy’s stash of girlie pictures from the twenties. So Ivy must have some sort of weird thing about sleeping with galpal partners and so Harley would get her all bouncy and happy and hot and pounce her and then they’d be over that and it would all be good!
She’d had to fiddle with the pollen a little. Most plant products don’t do much of anything to Ivy. But it was easy to find help for that, because Gotham is full of people who like that kind of thing and okay, so what she came up with wasn’t exactly pollen anymore, it was more like chemicals, but that meant it would work plenty fine on Ivy and she’d only had to kill one person to keep Ivy’s secrets safe and that meant she was coming up aces, really.
But now she was wondering if she didn’t maybe get it wrong, because Ivy was really kinda scary this way, and Harley had sworn off kinda scary a while back, when Mister J knocked her down the construction site stairs and she broke her leg in three places and had to lie there in a dark and shadowy corner for hours before anyone found her and even then it was the police who found her and they weren’t very nice. And she really hasn’t been back to see Mister J since. She has decided that they need a spat. And Ivy is much more fun anyway.
“Ivy? Ivy, are you angry, because I didn’t mean anything and I just – ”
Ivy pounces, and Harley yelps and is rolled over with the force of her jump and Ivy rolls over with her and somewhere along the way Ivy’s hands end up around Harley’s wrists and then Ivy is kneeling on Harley (which kinda hurts, but kinda feels nice too) and Ivy is holding her wrists to the ground as little vines creep up to bind her to the earth. “Ivy?”
“Shhh…” Ivy says, “I’m not letting you leave.”
“But I don’t want – MMMMPH!” Harley says, as Ivy covers her mouth with her hand.
“I’m not letting you leave.”
“MmmphleMmph!Mmuphmmmuphmuphle!” Harley says, attempting to convey that she: a) has no intention of going anywhere, b) means that in a broader sense than simply that she has more sense and more hormones than to walk out on an Ivy who is actually going to GET her, c) would like to do some talking now, please, and d) wants to have her hands back because Ivy is right there and her palms are twitching for a chance to feel some of that nice, smooth skin. How does Ivy keep it so smooth anyway? Harley’s is always itchy and rougher than she wants it to be. Maybe it’s because Harley spends most of her time in freezing warehouses and Ivy spends most of her time in nice, humid, greenhouses, which really would make all the difference in the world and anyway Harley has a habit of forgetting which moisturizers actually work and she has to start experimenting all over again, which wastes –
“Harley!” Ivy says, “No leaving!”
And Harley snaps back to what’s happening now and wonders how she managed to drift away, because what’s happening here is really, really, really good, and what she’s wanted for what seems like just about forever even if it can’t be more than a year because that’s when she met Ivy and it was best buds practically at first sight. Well, at first bank heist at least.
Ivy sighs, and lifts her hand away from Harley’s mouth. “Silly,” she says, and kisses Harley. Harley kisses back until Ivy pulls away and smiles. “You never do stay …”
Harley whimpers. She wants more kissing right now and she likes talking because words are important but there’s a time and a place for everything and this really isn’t the best of either for talking. How Ivy is managing to make something like sense right now is beyond her, although Mister J does things like that too and it’s terribly annoying and she doesn’t want to think about him right now but she can’t focus and Ivy isn’t kissing her. Or doing anything else either, and Harley can’t touch her and can’t get close enough to kiss her and if Ivy doesn’t do something she just might start crying out of pure frustration.
And maybe she never does stay, or at least not exactly, not the way Ivy’d like, but then Ivy is Miss Globe Trotter too and hey, Harley always comes back.
Ivy kisses the side of her throat. Harley melts. Focus, focus, focus, focus. Ivy. And Ivy, oh! Touching her, and that’s something that Harley knew she’d work out a way to have but was still starting to think she wouldn’t get and maybe she should try the hotpants because some of the things that Ivy might do with that kind of outfit would be wonderful, wonderful, but this is good too, though she doesn’t have enough bare skin and maybe her usual suit wasn’t the best thing to wear for trying this.
And Ivy, Ivy doesn’t even seem to notice how frustrating she is, or how frustrated Harley is, and that’s even more frustrating, but it’s really kind of funny too, because isn’t it just pure Ivy to be perfectly happy to just kiss her neck and her face and her hair, and take her time and wait because Ivy’s a gardener and they need patience and Harley knows that Ivy even enjoys being patient and that’s nice, that’s nice, that’s better than nice, but Harley wants to be properly kissed and she wants to touch Ivy without Ivy’s clothes in the way, and she wants Ivy to touch her without her clothes in the way, and she wants… wants… She can do it, but her mind won’t form the right words, it’s just not something she can talk about, even in her own head, and there’s a hang up left from her own life that’s terribly ironic considering that she was a therapist and someone told her once they weren’t supposed to have issues but of course she did and Mister J used them and now she’s not going to think about that girl who wore skirts all the time and hated books where the heroine got married to someone she didn’t love because she’s too much like the girl she is now just different and that girl would never have done what Harley’s doing or maybe she might have, but not for nothing, not the way Harley –
But Harley isn’t thinking about her.
Especially not when Ivy has a hand in her hair and is actually kissing her now. Harley pays close attention to that, that’s for certain, and she manages to catch Ivy’s lower lip and suck on it and nibble and Ivy moans and Harley’s words go white and still and her eyes close up shut tight because they’re heavy all of a sudden.
And Ivy notices and chuckles, and she has the most beautiful voice ever and Harley just goes limp and tries to think, but she can’t, not the right way, and Ivy has to know how much Harley wants her. Just has too. Because if she doesn’t she might freak, afterward, and why didn’t Harley think of that before, when she might have done something about it? But she still can do something about it, even though she didn’t think of it before because her most brilliant plans are like that and something always gets left out. But this time she can fix it and she isn’t going back to Arkham again, so she stretches and arches and makes some sort of noise that might be called a moan or maybe was a whimper, and Ivy chuckles again really low, and it’s just the right tone, just the right one, just right, and Harley makes whatever that noise was – and she doesn’t really care, but words are important because they make the world be what you want it to be everyone knows that – and bites Ivy’s lip harder than she should, and she could really get hurt because Ivy isn’t ever safe to kiss, but she can’t think of that, she’ll just have to trust –
And Ivy’s found the fastenings that hold her clothing shut and gotten them all opened, and all Harley’s words go really, truly, utterly, pure, slate blank and bright.
Later Ivy apologizes. Harley laughs, and pounces, and gets just what she wants. Maybe Ivy isn’t as good with people as she is with plants, but that’s okay. Harley doesn’t mind. She’ll get her point across eventually. She can do patient. She really can.
She’ll try the hot pants next week.
A red haired character / …under the influence of sex pollen
- *shyly offers femslash fic*