Harlivy & Hivy

After Hours pt3

"W-what?” Harleen chirped sitting upright on the bed.

“You heard me,” Ivy said simply. “You’re going to fuck me because I told you to…and you do so love doing as your told, don’t you flower?” she cooed with a tilt of her head.

Harleen bit back the whine in her throat as she tried to ignore the faint pulse between her legs at the woman’s definitive tone. “I-I thought we established I wasn’t the best in that position, red?” the girl recalled. The way she seemed to shrink into herself as the botanist gazed down at her as if staring straight at her heart seemed to prove her point: her own body was already content to submit to the other woman without hesitation. “I was kind of shi—not good… the last time we tried remember?”

Ivy raised her perfect brows with a gleeful spark in her eye, “oh I remember perfectly~” she responded smoothly, her voice like melted butter as her lips pulled into a predatory smile. Harleen’s breath could only hitch as she sat frozen, skin twitching at the soft green hand moving freely up her spine towards the base of her neck where it took a fist full of loose blonde hair in its grasp. Ivy waited a beat before pulling to thrust the girl’s throat out to the sky… exposed… vulnerable… feeling so delicate and fragile in cold asylum air as warm lips brushed against it when the redhead leaned down to speak against her flesh.

“And now I want you to do it to me again, little rose petal,” she murmured, voice low and husky—she ate up the full body shiver which rain through her counterpart.

“W-why though?” Harleen squeaked, all too aware of the way her chest heaved with every breath she took with her back forced to arch like this. She couldn’t understand why Ivy, who was more like some fabled goddess of desire and domination than mortal woman, would ever possibly want someone like her to be top.

Goosebumps pricked over pale skin as the villain chuckled lowly. “Because I want to watch how you slowly unravel, layer by layer, as I have you ravish me, daffodil…” her lips delicately caught and dragged against Harleen’s skin as she spoke, warm and wet. “I want to watch the push and pull of compliance and apprehension in those pretty blue eyes as you touch me so intimately…” she purred, “as you do such naughty things to me~” She chuckled wickedly as the intern shivered at her choice wordplay, squirming a bit in her seat.

“I…I’ll try—” Harleen breathed dazedly; her face felt warm enough to cook her brain…which perhaps explained why she was having trouble thinking. She almost missed the soft whisper of, “that’s my sweet little daisy,” before Ivy kissed her neck, straight over her frantic pulse, with so much careful composure it wasn’t fair to the state of Harleen’s nerves.

“Now then…” the woman announced, giving the girl a start, “can’t do much in these rags now can we?” the villain shrugged down to herself and the faded Arkham uniform around her shoulders as she leaned back, reflecting on them in mild distaste. “Take these retched things off me, won’t you darling?” she purred pleasantly, splaying herself out a bit where she sat over the edge of the bed, eyeing the girl by her side patiently as she stared back blankly, still in a state of mild shock.

Ivy waited another moment before she quirked her brow, green eyes turning dark. “Did I stutter?” she asked lowly.

Harleen shivered, “n-no mama!” she gasped, standing immediately, trying to ignore the way her exhausted pussy throbbed at the commanding tone of Ivy’s voice. “Thought so,” the woman said, her expression turning pleasant again. This all comes too naturally to her, Harleen thought to herself.

The villain’s expression was calm…patient, yet her eyes burned with a palpable hunger as she watched Harleen’s nervous limbs move to take hold of the orange shirt.