(DCU) Assailed
Title: Assailed
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Selina/Harley
Rating: R
Words: 737
Notes: Spanking. For a prompt at dcu_memes.
Summary: Of all the things to get distracted by, Harley's ass is both the worst and the most understandable.
Selina has been doing this for a long time now and she’s one the best thieves in the world. She doesn’t make amateur mistakes.
Except that’s exactly what she’s doing, ducking left when she should be going up and over and to the right. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and she growls to herself, low in her throat. Drops her weight down on to her hands before she springs back up, and the angle is awkward but Selina’s good enough to make it work. Slamming her heels into the thug’s jaw, and she’s just lucky the guy is a brawler and doesn’t have any real skill, because she knows she left her back wide open there.
Only for a second, but a second can be all it takes.
The guy staggers, and Selina lets her anger at herself power her next kick, connecting solidly with his temple.
He grunts and hits the floor, landing hard enough to unsettle a layer of dust and grime from the faded carpet.
“We all set, kitty?” Harley calls from across the bar. She’s standing on the stomach of a particularly burly-looking and unconscious jerk with poorly spelled tattoos, a splintered pool cue held in her hand like a cane.
Selina doesn’t respond, just stalks out of the room.
Pointless, useless waste of time, nobody there has any information she can use, and to top it off now her costume’s going to smell like cheap beer for the rest of the night.
“Hey, what’s eating you?” Harley asks, cartwheeling through the open door and landing easily at Selina’s side.
Selina isn’t going to look, and she isn’t going to answer.
Because Harley’s the problem.
Selina’s better than this, she knows she is. She’s broken through the toughest security in the world, held her own against Batman, even when he’s in a bad mood. She’s a pro.
She shouldn’t get distracted so easily, and that distraction shouldn’t come from something so embarrassingly simplistic.
But.
It’s just.
Harley.
Harley flipping around the room, cackling happily, making bad jokes and knocking down grown men like they’re a house of cards. Harley, in her skin-tight spandex, red and black and white, like a blur of blood and shadows, except so vibrant and full of life.
Harley and her ridiculous, frustrating, enviable, disgustingly exquisite ass.
Selina hasn’t been a teenager for a long time and she’d like to think she’s not a slave to her hormones, but nights like this really prove her wrong. Nights when her head should be in the game, but she’s risking glances at the way Harley moves, steering the fight so she has a better view.
Nights when she lets her imagination get the better of her instead of focusing.
When she’s thinking about Harley’s ass, how it feels in her hands, the little squeaks and whimpers Harley can’t hold back when Selina squeezes just right. Thinking about kissing her there, biting at each cheek, leaving a mark that lets everyone know who Harley truly belongs to. Thinking about sliding her thumb down the line of Harley’s cleft just to see her squirm, or the crack of her palm connecting sharply with that rounded flesh, Harley writhing over Selina’s lap and begging for more, harder, faster, please.
“Kitty?” Harley says quietly, tilting her face into Selina’s line of vision.
Selina shakes her head and takes a step back. “This is a bust,” she sighs. “Let’s just call it a night, go home and regroup.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Harley cries happily, leaping up on to a bin to grab at the fire escape and swing herself up into a somersault. She lands perfectly, of course, back to Selina, knees bent low and ass stuck out, and Selina feels herself lick her lips.
“Race you home!” Harley announces over her shoulder, and then she’s cocking her hips, deliberately wriggling her ass, and Selina can only stare open-mouthed as Harley winks, smirking knowingly, before she takes off down the alley.
If there’s one thing worse than finding herself distracted by Harley’s ass, it has to be Harley knowing just what she does to Selina’s concentration.
It’s okay, though. She’ll race Harley, and she’ll win, damn straight she’ll win. And she already knows what she’ll claim as her prize; Harley spread out before her, or maybe bent over the bed, ass in the air, just begging for Selina’s touch.
Tonight won't be a total bust after all.
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Selina/Harley
Rating: R
Words: 737
Notes: Spanking. For a prompt at dcu_memes.
Summary: Of all the things to get distracted by, Harley's ass is both the worst and the most understandable.
Selina has been doing this for a long time now and she’s one the best thieves in the world. She doesn’t make amateur mistakes.
Except that’s exactly what she’s doing, ducking left when she should be going up and over and to the right. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and she growls to herself, low in her throat. Drops her weight down on to her hands before she springs back up, and the angle is awkward but Selina’s good enough to make it work. Slamming her heels into the thug’s jaw, and she’s just lucky the guy is a brawler and doesn’t have any real skill, because she knows she left her back wide open there.
Only for a second, but a second can be all it takes.
The guy staggers, and Selina lets her anger at herself power her next kick, connecting solidly with his temple.
He grunts and hits the floor, landing hard enough to unsettle a layer of dust and grime from the faded carpet.
“We all set, kitty?” Harley calls from across the bar. She’s standing on the stomach of a particularly burly-looking and unconscious jerk with poorly spelled tattoos, a splintered pool cue held in her hand like a cane.
Selina doesn’t respond, just stalks out of the room.
Pointless, useless waste of time, nobody there has any information she can use, and to top it off now her costume’s going to smell like cheap beer for the rest of the night.
“Hey, what’s eating you?” Harley asks, cartwheeling through the open door and landing easily at Selina’s side.
Selina isn’t going to look, and she isn’t going to answer.
Because Harley’s the problem.
Selina’s better than this, she knows she is. She’s broken through the toughest security in the world, held her own against Batman, even when he’s in a bad mood. She’s a pro.
She shouldn’t get distracted so easily, and that distraction shouldn’t come from something so embarrassingly simplistic.
But.
It’s just.
Harley.
Harley flipping around the room, cackling happily, making bad jokes and knocking down grown men like they’re a house of cards. Harley, in her skin-tight spandex, red and black and white, like a blur of blood and shadows, except so vibrant and full of life.
Harley and her ridiculous, frustrating, enviable, disgustingly exquisite ass.
Selina hasn’t been a teenager for a long time and she’d like to think she’s not a slave to her hormones, but nights like this really prove her wrong. Nights when her head should be in the game, but she’s risking glances at the way Harley moves, steering the fight so she has a better view.
Nights when she lets her imagination get the better of her instead of focusing.
When she’s thinking about Harley’s ass, how it feels in her hands, the little squeaks and whimpers Harley can’t hold back when Selina squeezes just right. Thinking about kissing her there, biting at each cheek, leaving a mark that lets everyone know who Harley truly belongs to. Thinking about sliding her thumb down the line of Harley’s cleft just to see her squirm, or the crack of her palm connecting sharply with that rounded flesh, Harley writhing over Selina’s lap and begging for more, harder, faster, please.
“Kitty?” Harley says quietly, tilting her face into Selina’s line of vision.
Selina shakes her head and takes a step back. “This is a bust,” she sighs. “Let’s just call it a night, go home and regroup.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Harley cries happily, leaping up on to a bin to grab at the fire escape and swing herself up into a somersault. She lands perfectly, of course, back to Selina, knees bent low and ass stuck out, and Selina feels herself lick her lips.
“Race you home!” Harley announces over her shoulder, and then she’s cocking her hips, deliberately wriggling her ass, and Selina can only stare open-mouthed as Harley winks, smirking knowingly, before she takes off down the alley.
If there’s one thing worse than finding herself distracted by Harley’s ass, it has to be Harley knowing just what she does to Selina’s concentration.
It’s okay, though. She’ll race Harley, and she’ll win, damn straight she’ll win. And she already knows what she’ll claim as her prize; Harley spread out before her, or maybe bent over the bed, ass in the air, just begging for Selina’s touch.
Tonight won't be a total bust after all.