#ugh . harley is like completely fine [desensitized] to the Most Extreme k*nk stuff

[crimeloyalty-arch]

[ COAX ]  the dominant partner gently moving the shy or overwhelmed submissive’s hands from covering their face so they can kiss them,  breathing praises against their skin.  (obi-wan is a sub usually but for this it can go whichever way u want)

for years,  their relationship had existed solely in shadowed corners of crowded bars and empty elevators in an evacuated senate building. in public,  their affection had been confined to their shoulders pressed together, fingertips brushing.  in private,  in the few hours they had been able to claw back from the order and the underworld,  tucked under tattered sheets on top of creaking beds,  they had never had time for anything except frantic,  hurried fucking.  every touch had betrayed the desperation of two people all too aware that this could be their last encounter.  

now,  palpatine and joker are rotting under some slab of ferrocrete. when she looks into obi-wan’s eyes,  there’s no trace of blue left.  harley avoids the holonet when she can,  but she knows that the clone wars rage on,  even as a heavily pregnant chancellor amidala throws her everything into ending them.  this has never been her war,  and it is no longer obi-wan’s -- there is no one left to give either of them orders.  they finally have what they never thought would be theirs : time. 

with time comes new issues.  both of them have lost their purpose,  lost their structure,  lost what little stability they had.  all they have of their old lives are each other -- and they did not plan on having to revolve so heavily around each other.  they cannot stay like this forever,  hiding on some outer rim planet that the war has already burned through.  contentment is not for either of them to find in this life.  in these quiet moments,  these unexpected months,  though,  they will build a home in each other. 

their evenings are no longer short,  no longer at risk of interruption from one emergency or another. there is no longer a need to rush,  and harley hates it.  there is suddenly time for her to think,  which means that there is time for her to panic,  and she has interrupted more than one night as her fear overtakes her.  refusing to talk to obi-wan about it,  but also continuing to crawl into his lap,  she has created a vicious cycle. 

the truth comes out of her in bits and pieces,  over breakfasts and in those precious moments just before sleep overtakes them.  it’s joker.  it’s always joker.  her entire adulthood has revolved around him.  all of her own needs have been buried so long that needing and wanting are wholly foreign to her. she’s so used to every affectionate gesture being rejected -- to joker’s complete disinterest in her.  she doesn’t know what to do now that obi-wan wants her. 

obi-wan listens,  lets her tell the story in bits and pieces.  pulls her into him as they’re about to leave their small apartment,  pushes her against the wall in a dark alley -- manufactures the urgency that let her escape before.  it is not a solution,  but it holds them together until they can find one. 

“ what are we doing? ”  harley asks late one night,  peeking over the edge of her datapad as he climbs into bed beside her,  slipping an arm underneath her to pull her snuggly against his chest.

“ practicing, ” he answers,  and she loses all interest in the book she’s reading.  she sets the datapad down as he slips his hands underneath her shirt.  ( his shirt -- she barely ever wears her own clothes anymore,  enjoys having a lover who does not take offense at the theft. ) 

“ practice faster, ” she says,  though she knows that that is the opposite of the point of this exercise.  in response,  his hands move even slower against her skin,  fingers barely brushing her stomach.  she bites back the urge to insist that she doesn’t see the point in this,  that she is more than willing to just be flipped over and fucked -- she trusts him,  she trusts him.  

sex like this is wholly new to her -- obi-wan’s adoration is clear in every movement.  he is gentler with her than she thinks she deserves,  always concerned with her enjoyment over his.  she doesn’t know what to do with that kind of care,  is sure that she will find a way to corrupt this & to corrupt him.  harley twists in his arms so she can look at him, his yellow eyes reminding her that she already has ruined them both. 

as the familiar panic surges within her,  obi-wan kisses her,  and it is distraction enough.  she bites his lip,  delights in the surprised noise he makes.  she tangles her hands in his hair,  if only to see if he’ll grab her wrists.  when he doesn’t,  she tries to reach lower,  but finds her hands trapped in place.  damn him -- this is the last time she’ll get involved with a force sensitive being. 

“ please, ”  she begs,  and he hushes her,  slips his hand between her legs. harley never used to understand her friends when they talked about struggling to finish -- was so used to sex being a blur that she never had time to get into her own head.  she understands now,  struggling to focus on obi-wan’s fingers.  there’s not enough going on to keep her anchored.  he won’t take.  he’s trying to give.  it’s new,  terrifying. 

she presses her hips back against his,  takes comfort in how steady he is -- in that it is patience that keeps him from taking her,  rather than a lack of desire.  still,  it takes everything she has to not pull away,  to simply sit still and feel.  there are several moments where an apology is on the tip of her tongue,  but she forces herself to bite back each one,  reminding herself that he doesn’t care how long it takes her -- that he only wants her to enjoy herself.  

each time she comes close to panicking again,  he stops,  steadies her,  makes sure she is alright before continuing.  eventually,  his patience reaps rewards,  and harley starts to relax.  it’s strange to not feel like she’s putting on a performance,  for the sounds that escape her to not be purposeful.  he does something different with his fingers and harley gasps despite herself ⸻ they both know it’s over for her.  a satisfied smirk plays on obi-wan’s lips as he does it again and again and again,  and before harley knows what’s happening,  she’s shouting his name,  shaking against him.  he doesn’t let up until she squirms away from him,  over-sensitive but finally,  for now,  satisfied.  

she’s also incredibly overwhelmed,  curling in on herself,  hiding her face in her hands.  the orgasms he gives her -- when he takes his time,  when he’s gentle with her,  when he makes sure she’s enjoying herself the whole time -- are so much more intense than the ones she gives herself -- quick,  the point only to come -- or the ones she’s shared with other lovers -- mostly incidental.  part of her still expects him to lose interest in her,  for her bed to be empty in moments -- but all of a sudden,  his arms are tight around her,  and he’s kissing the top of her head,  murmuring over and over how proud he is of her,  how good she’s been. 

his hands wrap around her wrists and she feels so small,  but for the first time in her life,  feeling small doesn’t make her feel lesser.  he moves her hands away from her face,  pressing his forehead to hers,  breathing steadily.  he’s noticed by now that,  when she’s upset,  she’ll match her breathing to his in attempt to calm herself.  

“ you were so good for me, ”  he reassures again,  still holding onto her wrists.  she’s glad for it -- glad she doesn’t feel like she has to do anything other than lie underneath him. he presses a soft kiss to her lips,  then one to her forehead,  and she starts to feel alright again. “ perfect,  harleen. ”

“ i love you, ”  she whispers,  closing her eyes.  “ i love you. ” 

their home will go up in flames,  but at least they will know -- there was love here.