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"I've always wondered if you scream down the walls when you come. I'm kinda disappointed that you don't."
Harley's grinning so hard it gets in the way of wiping her mouth. Some residual greasepaint comes off, her tongue tastes likes rubber, and a hair tickles the back of her throat, but what the hell, it was so worth it.
"I still have some shred of self-control, no matter how much you try to break it." Dinah drapes her forearm over her brows and sighs, rocking against Harley's inquisitive fingers. "God, I could just go again. I swear, I've never been so horny in my life."
Harley's grin grows wider. "I don't mind that at all, sweet songbird. I'm more than happy to help you out in any way I can."
Dinah's nose scrunches when Harley's pinkie enters her too, and she slaps her hand away. "Give me a break. I'm actually sore." Her head thuds back onto her pillow. "Sometimes I don't know whether you're trying to fuck me or play midwife."
"I may have many qualifications," Harley snorts with laughter, "but midwife ain't one of them."
Slowly, with the grace of a hungry panther (or hyena if you will, she is the mother of two after all), she pads up the mattress, hands and knees framing Dinah on either side, and rubs her cheek against the other woman's protruding belly, smearing it with decorative white streaks.
With a quiet huff, Dinah tugs her upward so they're flush against each other, Harley sprawling on top of her, a little off balance. She should be annoyed at being manhandled like this, but it's okay, she kinda likes Dinah bossing her around. Gives her a sense of purpose. Makes her feel special.
"Hi," Harley croons, propping her head up and grinning down at her pretty bird. Dinah's lips twitch.
"You're a mess," she says and flicks her thumb over Harley's cheek, tucks a stray strand behind her ear.
"Uh-huh, but you already knew that," Harley agrees, biting her lip as Dinah's dexterous digits return the favor and work her open. Her hips quiver and rock with the motions, slowly building toward another sweet release.
"I did," Dinah says and pinches her.
Harley squeaks and giggles and leans in for a kiss. Dinah turns away with a frown.
"Oh, you mean my face," Harley giggles some more. "Okay, that I can do something about."
Harley reaches for a length of linen that is currently not tangled up somewhere between them, but Dinah stops her.
"You're not thinking of getting greasepaint on my sheets, are you?"
"Seriously? You're okay with me rubbing it all over you but your bedding is a no-go?"
"I can clean myself faster than I clean the sheets," Dinah says and continues her ministrations, directing Harley's attention to more important matters. "In other words: deal with it."
Oh yeah. Harley can deal, she definitely can if it means Dinah ain't gonna stop anytime soon.
She lends the woman a hand and contemplates how best to bring down the walls herself. A little dynamite might do the trick. Everything is better after a liberating kaboom.
Dinah's the prime example. It ain't always easy knowing which of her graces Harley's in at any given moment. Her quiet resentment of Harley's previous associations stands between them sometimes and then she's much more amiable when she blows off in Harley's face. Dinah is preggers, after all. She's allowed the occasional violent moodswing. Harley's fond of those anyway. They give her a right homey feeling.
She cuddles up to Dinah like she did with her favorite fluffy beaver plushie on those first cold lonely nights. Only, Dinah's not as accommodatingly squishy as Bernie used to be. Rather, she's a stone weight with pointy elbows and a pointier tongue.
"Stop fidgeting and go to sleep already."
"I would, if your bump wasn't so difficult to navigate around."
"I'm sure you can bear it for one night. At least you can forget all about this inconvenience when you skip off in the morning."
"Don't blame me for your inconvenience. I didn't have to go and let Ollie knock me up."
Dinah's reaction to that comment may have been comparable to the time Harley put on her fake moustache and a goatee to match, thinking it would be funny and remind Dinah of Ollie, which it did, though not quite in the way Harley had imagined. Dinah's face had bloomed with boundless joy when Harley's beard scratched her awake, only to fall the moment her awareness caught up with the reality she was in.
It was almost painful to watch.
(Harley remembered the first disbelieving days that stretched into weeks and more endless weeks. Even now she sometimes wakes up to the illusion that the world's still whole, that her puddin' was still with her, and Supes hadn't started killing off their loved ones. At least Ivy's still alive.)
Dinah had screamed her ears bloody and then not talked to her for days, at least not in a way Harley could have understood over the tinnitus. Harley herself had been butthurt with only her little mustache to console her – could nobody take a joke anymore these days? She was just trying to put the smiles back on the people around her. They're so gloomy without 'em.
(The pain they share is both bond and barrier, something that may have grown from the same root, united them in the same cause, yet made them raw each in their own way. They still lack the words to address it properly or the emotional distance to process it, but they have each other and their own ways of coping.)
Harley's okay with the moodswings, she really is. It's part of the experience and Harley can't fault Dinah for that. Which doesn't mean she has to take it all lying down. No, sir! She has sworn to turn her life around and would no longer let herself be treated like a ragdoll or a doormat.
But she can make exceptions. Like when Dinah apologizes with her pointy tongue against Harley's clit and won't stop apologizing until Harley's the one to beg forgiveness.
And, yeah, okay. Harley will gladly take that lying down any day.