I was in love with Ivy. It was something I couldn’t ignore anymore. After the last session though, things had started to feel even tenser, even more strange.
Watching Fries sacrifice himself for his wife, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was in love with my best friend. I was head over heels for Ive.
Being in the pit made it absolutely unbearable. Before I screwed everything up in Gotham, I had my own thing that kept us apart long enough to get some space from what was going on between us. The pit only amplified it.
She was morose and I was too. If we died down there, there would never be any more sessions. I’d never get to be with her like that again because there would always be someone around. I’d have to let that part of us go.
But she’s fuckin’ brilliant and got us out. Not before some shit though. Not before I let go in a free fall so that she could go on and live. But she saved me, saved us, and suddenly she was on top of me again under a sky full of stars, kissing me hungrily and pawing at our shitty prison pit clothes.
I’d have agreed to anything right there, but she’d stopped it. “Harls, I...I want to do this right.” What the this was, I didn’t know. (I should have asked, I should have) She’d lifted me up from the ground, my friend, my domme, my savior. “Let’s go home.”
And that’s what sent us into the last session before the split. The before and after.
“I’m going to get cleaned up. Do the same and then meet me in my room?” she’d asked without looking at me, staring out across the mall as we’d walked through the double metal doors.
“What should I…”
“Just—be naked on my bed. That’s it,” Ivy told me.
“Naked?” I asked, confused. No outfits, nothing added?
She hadn’t answered and disappeared, leaving me standing alone with a thousand thoughts trampling my mind.
Ivy knows Harley is waiting on her bed before she even opens her bathroom door. She presses a hand against it and sighs, not really sure with what she’s about to do. She doesn’t want to do anything wrong but at the same time, she’s not exactly feeling domineering either.
She’d picked up the rope they’d used the third time but that was all. Walking out with it behind her back, Ivy bit her lip and stood in the doorway. Admiring Harley’s beautiful body, nothing covering it.
For her, she’d opted for a long shirt, much in the style of a man’s but made of smoother material. Green, of course, and nothing underneath. It parts in the middle, buttons undone and shows a strip of her chest, abdomen, and everything below.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Ivy tries for wistful amusement.
She can hear the other part in her voice too, the part that knows what she will have to do a better job of hiding.
“So how do you want me tonight? We playin’ with your vines again? Or maybe some other types of toys?” Harley asks.
Excitement , Ivy thinks. But I don’t want her any other way than a version of simple tonight.
“Uh, I thought we might just go back to this,” Ivy says uncertainly, worried because the frills are essentially gone. But then an idea surfaces from the deep and she motions for Harley to get on her knees. “Sit up.”
Months ago when she’d started her research, she’d spent a very long but eventful day enraptured in bonding techniques known as shibari . This will be sensual if she can get it right but also another erotic part of the BDSM fantasies they’ve been living out.
Harley’s hands are easiest to start with, so Ivy begins winding the rope around her wrists. From there, she wraps around her waist. Connecting up, Ivy goes under each of Harley’s breasts and loops it around her neck. From there, back down to her hips and between each leg to rest just beside the apex of her thighs. She ends it at Harley’s hip with just enough left for her own hand to wrap around.
“Mistress,” Harley pants out when it’s done.
“Lay down, Harley,” Ivy commands softly and covers her as soon as she does, kissing her best friend, her lover. The absolute love of her life.
Ivy is gentle then, slow. It’s unlike anything they’ve done again but already it’s her favorite. When she’s behind her, she nibbles at Harley’s pale shoulder while another arm is wrapped loosely around her neck. When she’s on top of her, she presses her fingers into her cheek and glides down it.
No matter the position, Ivy never strays a hand from between Harley’s legs, the constant but measured movement of it wanting to draw it out for as long as she can.
A cracked and crumbling “please,” sets Ivy to new purpose, has her fingers skating across slick heat until wonderful sounds are drawn from Harley’s throat. When it’s over, the sound of Harley still ringing in her ears and reverberating in her chest, Ivy undoes the bindings.
“Your turn, Mistress,” Harley smiles against her and nibbles at her ear. Bites the lobe of it.
But already Ivy is far away, unreachable. She pulls back from Harley and shakes her head. The hurt begins to wash over Harley’s features, but Ivy knows she never should have let it get this far. She knows what she’s just done with her friend.
“Harls, I can’t keep doing this,” Ivy picks up her long shirt and shrugs it back on, rubbing between her eyes.
“What, why?” Harley is confused. She sits on her haunches and her face holds more fear than Ivy can bear.
“I just can’t anymore, okay? All of this is a lot. A lot a lot and…”
“Ivy, you’ve literally done things to me no other person on earth has. I’ve submitted to you, trusted you. This collar you put around my neck?” Ivy hears the desperation in her voice. “It makes me yours.”
“But that’s just it! You aren’t mine! Not like I want you to be!” Ivy spins on her and shouts. Harley looks shocked and Ivy’s face falls. “I can’t keep doing this with you because it’s not just a session anymore.” Her own desperation mangles her words. Just say it...
“Harley, I’m in love with you” finally hits the air.
...which then all seems to leave the room. Ivy tries to finish but ends up letting her eyes fill with tears before she can. “I didn’t do a session with you tonight. We weren’t just having sex to me. I was making love to you, Harley. I think I knew I was going to when I walked out of the bathroom. Shit, before that even. I should have just been honest and told you. I’m so sorry.”
Ivy watches Harley stand and walk to within a foot of where she is, distraught. “I really wanted to have this conversation with you when I was fully clothed, or at least more dressed than I am,” she laughs.
“What?” Ivy frowns.
Harley parts Ivy’s shirt, wraps a hand around her hip and her neck. Rests her cheek on Ivy’s chest. “I’ve felt the same way since session three.”
It should feel like a bomb but to Ivy, it’s a sweet type of release. She’s a feather now, gliding along on the air. A wisp of a cloud floating. She closes her eyes and hides her nose in Harley’s blonde locks.
“We’re idiots,” Ivy laughs out, but there’s a watery aspect to it because of the tears and emotions clogging her throat.
“But Ive , honey. We belong together,” Harley holds her face and stares at her deeply.
And it’s written there in Harley’s features, the story of them easy to see. Penned with friendship and trust and pain and pleasure. Scribed from whisper and yell and pant and sigh. Harley’s arms are an envelope. Ivy presses them together by their lips for a seal.
Somewhere during the push of their mouths, the meeting of their tongues searching for taste, Harley lays Ivy on the bed, proceeds to give her the world.
Oh, how Ivy smiles. She can’t keep it off her fucking face. Neither can Harley, who does just as much of it herself. Not once does Ivy have to stifle the ‘I love you’ that spills from her lips. Not a singular time does Harley fail to meet it.
“You know, you don’t have to keep wearing it since you’re my girlfriend,” Ivy glances up from her salad at Chez Feline.
Harley knows what she’s referring to. Her hand goes to her throat, runs over the collar she’s hardly taken off in two years. “Yeah, well, it’s sort of become my thing now. My signature look.” She shrugs.
Ivy leans over to whisper. “Which, don’t get me wrong, is fine and honestly, still so fucking hot because of its original meaning but like...you could maybe change it up or something?”
Now Harley leans in too. She moves in to kiss Ivy in front of everyone, her lips soft and happy-sigh inducing. When she backs away from Ivy, there’s a small box sitting on the table near their hands. Ivy’s eyes are wide.
“Alright, let's change it up then,” Harley agrees and opens the box. “The term girlfriend isn’t quite doing it for me anymore.”
Harley smirks and Ivy? Ivy free falls into more happiness than she thinks her body can contain.
Yes has never been so sweet inside of her mouth as when she says it now.