Characters/Pairing: Harley/Ivy, brief blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to Batman/Joker.
Author's notes: Okay, so this is my first foray into femslash so I hope it doesn't suck. I didn't want this to be porny, so I went with a more peculiar angle, using second person narrative and writing in present tense. Also, I felt like I was bashing Mr J at times which made me want to pull my liver out through my nostril, but it's from Ivy's POV, so it was necessary. I wrote this instead of revising for my French exam and this is completely stream of consciousness and doesn't have much plot. I felt like I was channeling Carol Ann Duffy at points too. D: Not good. XD Oh and it's un-beta'd. Again. ¬_¬
As it's my first femslash fic, I'd really appreciate the reviews.
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It's not like I ever meant to come to this place. I have long since shed myself of the social and cultural concepts of the homosapien, for it is written in silver ink that I will evolve an Oleanna. The path I have taken in life should have led me into a vast valley, to a glorious tropical forest where the green spreads like festering cities and flourishes around my form. It should have taken me far, far away from here. Away from the cold cement creatures that claw their way up into murky, dishwater skies and the bitter taste of human that runs rank in the polluted, infested air. It should have led me away from you.
But here I am. Watching you as you flounce around my greenhouse, chattering mindlessly to yourself. They see you as goofy. The 'side-kick'. This is not the truth. It is not even the truth as you spill a vile of lilac liquid- extract of iris- on the rich, cinnamon soil. There's barely a twitching nerve inside me that cares. You peer at me sheepishly, eyes becoming glazed at the sound of glass shattering, your bottom lip quivering. I feel sick. What did he do to you? How could you let him? I feel the colour of my hair transcend into my emotions and I have to bite my tongue. Hard. You do not come here for more rage. The acidic mercury slithers from his mouth, tinged with erupting, raking laughter. Each ethereal chuckle digs a thousand poniards into my skin and I swallow razor-blade anger when I see the soft curve of your lip stick out and judder. It is in these moments I want to kill him. And not just that latent part of me that wants so very much to destroy him, but a raging force surpassing a tsunami's fury, hurtling towards that reptilian creature, screaming at me to eradicate the monster you won't leave.
We both know he doesn't want you. I can see it in your blue, blue eyes each time you flutter back here, shunned and mocked. My cells tremble with the want to tell you the words that sit like the poison on my lips, but the wetness of your face quells the urges, neutralising any venom present on my tongue. But sometimes even the eyes you must've stolen from the carcass of a dying doe cannot stop the tumbling flow of chiding abuse tinged with regret that streams out from me. And I scream, and froth and scream again because you know you silly, beautiful, silly girl. You know you'll never be that 'thing' he wants. There isn't enough charcoal damaging your soul. There isn't enough glimmering hatred, twinkling like a knife's edge in your eyes. No opposition to be found in your feather frame. All of us 'rogues', as they spin us, can see it – the 'thing'-perfectly well. And I do not doubt some of the other's do too. So why? Why, my jester girl, do you fall back inline with a note and a wink from a blackened eye? What's worse is that he doesn't even want you back when you flee to his side. A game, a game. Always another game. For recovery. For jealousy. And we see it crash down to earth with an insistence mightier than Superman's egotism. It works. Always. He must know that you know. But he lacks more humanity than even I. I can't help wonder, my darling, is that why you come to me? Do you see his lack of human emotion reflected in me?
When I gave it up, when it left me, I never thought it would surge in my throat, choking me like bitter fumes, dancing with warm, salty liquid on my mint skin.
For you, my Harley. For you I can be human. And I cannot bare to look at your delicate features as they quake like uneasy spider legs under the weight of my gaze. I cannot feel anything but sooty compunction for letting you shiver for so long. I extend my arms and draw you in towards my body. When you whimper into my chest, I feel that familiar sorrow presented anew. De-familiarisation they call it. I don't buy into that. Nothing you could do would be unfamiliar to be. Wouldn't cease to ring the bells locked up in the neglected flowerbed within me. It is easy to see when you're against me like this, just how it should've been, how it could be. It will be. I'm certain. Because there is nothing in any realm, no bat, no plant, no clown, nothing more important than the way your curvilinear body fits like particles in the snow, forming flakes, against mine. There is no crease or crinkle. Only mirrors. My hand rests in the arc of your ropey back, pulling you closer as another tangles itself amongst the daffodil-soft locks of your buttery hair. You smell like ginger. I cannot place why. You're whispering sobs into my skin now and I try to sooth you. But it's coming strong, like a waterfall washing away the filth. Purging. I want you to. This catharsis, my dear, you need this. But you needed it last time. And you will need it again. Because I could offer you an other-worldly Amazon for just us and you couldn't leave. He has your mind, my love. And it clings to him with a feverous despondency and won't relent. Because you don't want him to, do you? Your mind is as strong as it is fragile, and yet you don't want him to have his last laugh and leave.
He doesn't care for you, my clown girl. He only cares for himself and his obsessions. But I have told, and you know. So I am here with you as you curve your sinewy limbs I gifted so long ago around my hips and hold me tighter than you would ever touch him. It thrills me, in some petty sense, to know this is only mine. Because he can't, I won't let him, have this. You tilt your face upwards and your azure orbs glisten with tears shed for an instance of remembering and I want them gone.
My hand floats down from your tresses and cups the baby soft skin of your cheek. It's like the most pliable velvet. It feels barely there, caressing the pads of my fingers with a talcum powder tickle. You blush, roses on your cheeks and I damn the fool whoever invented the sickly greasepaint you normally slather on your lovely face for hiding that strawberry tinge from my cool eyes.
You turn into my caress and murmur my name. Not 'Red' this time, either. It gives me chills. When our lips touch, it's like I'm standing in the midst of a meteor shower and each deadly rock is falling from the sky in a blaze capable of incinerating the strongest Meta. Falling down, down, down. The world folds in on itself. Melting and dripping like the candle wax of an effigy because we have no use for anything outside of this. Just for this one moment, the silky touches of white/green, the mixing of moans and hums, the delicious threading of limbs through limbs; for this moment, you are mine.
It would not be unusual for me to will vines to cradle you as we mould together but, like I said, lovely, this is just you and I. I want to make you feel the worth that your entire existence holds. For you, my darling, darling Harley, are everything. I want for you to know this. Do you? Slowly, lasting pages in this book I write for you, I remove your shorts and cotton vest, exposing everything you are. Everything I love. There is not a valley or hill or curve or dent on your sensuous frame I do not wish to taste. Your fruit is better than all else. You're blushing more than you were before as my jade gaze falls over you. Don't feel shame, beautiful girl. Beautiful woman. There is nothing here other than love. I tell you this, but disguise it in reassuring words which don't reveal as much, so soon. It pains me, though I should not feel. But it aches somewhere between my liver and the river of venom that flows so readily through my being. But I am nature, and nature is nothing if not patient. So I yield. And you straighten a little, and yet soften. I know your breath wants mine. My hand cups your breast and you stiffen in my warmth. Head back. Eyes closed. Bliss. I tremble at the sight. Men fall to my knees, my tulip, bow down and worship. But you and your naivety, your innocence and passion. You could render me submissive in a few heartbeats. I wonder if you possess this knowledge.
I've seen you over time evolve. It's true. You're not a mere fool this day; you cannot play your cards like that with me now. I know, Harleen- because that is where this comes from; before. I know you want to snap these binds, that the courage is lurking in you, misty and faded, but oh so there. I know I can release this from you. So, like I said I would, I drop to my knees.
My tongue touches the very centre, the core, of your being and you let out a noise which I can only imagine could be the inspiration for the creator of a wind chime chorus. I lap at your sweetness, hoping you can feel just how much you mean, as my hands grip into your thigh. Your delicate hands weave into my fiery waves and you breathe in gulps. There is nothing in my mind but you. No fleeting thoughts or concerns. It's all you, Harley. All you. Do you even know it's possible to be someone's everything. Goddess, I want to tell you. Will you let me? Maybe, maybe afterwards in sweet slumber I can kiss your dreams with linguistic caresses. Maybe, maybe.
You shake underneath my grip, my lover. We have not done this before. I am not ashamed. There are sirens in the distance now. There are lights, I'm sure, flickering limpidly. There are deaths and births and entrails. But out there, I will tell you, is nothing. Your moans are stroking at my eardrums with a barely there touch and it burns. I'm trying to keep my inferno caged but you're everywhere, stoking. Your taste on my lips causes me to moan, which causes you to moan as my mouth vibrates against your need. Your fragrant scent causes my organs to pump blood and toxin through my pulsing body, but I'm holding back, Harley. I will always hold back. Because you transcend everything in this life and the next and the next and the next. I will give it all, it all, my sister. My lover.
My tongue wriggles rhythmically, pressing the pressure and tension points with skill and I can feel you uncoiling in my possession. I move a finger inside of your heat and feel you clench.
Ssshh, ssshh. It's okay. Okay.
You jerk and thrash, litanies spilling from your mouth, making love to expletives as I touch something inside of you I located not a year ago. My fingers dance in daring patters, begging you, in their way, to release everything you've ignored. Everything I could've let out. The slick muscle of my tongue is moving quicker, flicking a little more, centring in on where you need me. It's all I can give you, because you can't accept the rest.
You shake like a blade of grass in a warm spring breeze and breathe my name in just that way as you release sweet, hot liquids into my mouth. I look up to your face, expecting to see pleasure written all over your features. But what I see... What I see is your penetrating gaze piercing my very essence as you bore your eyes into me with something I've wanted to witness on your face since I knew what you meant to me. Your mouth is open slightly, parted, and then when another aftershock slithers through you, cutting you in two, you cannot control the manner in which your body moves and your head flies violently back with a scream. I grip tightly and move my head with my tongue until I know it is too tender to do any more, and I cease my explorations. You fall to the floor, everything holding you up becoming obsolete and I envelop you with these protective arms. Your head comes to rest against mine and you are still breathing deeply, so deeply.
Through your gasps you try to speak.
I hush you, soothingly. No more. No more, my sweetheart. Just rest. Hold me as I hold you. Be here. I will not leave. My heart beats with promise as I stroke your cooling flesh and you bury your nose into my neck, holding me with that same tightness. Oh, my Harley. If I could tell you in words, I would sing you ballads and write you sonnets. But until I can my darling, my baby, my love, I will smile. Not the sick fiendish one you know. A smile meant for your eyes and not another's. Because I will always be in this Eden with you for as long as there's a slight possibility that, while he has your mind, I, Harley, I have your heart.
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I read that back just now and I don't even know what's going on. This is what I get for writing on 2 hours sleep. XD Oh well. Hope someone liked it anyway. Please review.