Chapter 39: Birthday Surprise Unveiling
The vines were cool and surprisingly firm against Harmony’s bare ankles, a living, textured contrast to the warm, worn floorboards. They tightened just enough to be a promise, not a trap. Ivy stood across the room, backlit by the late afternoon sun streaming through the sheer curtains, making her red hair look like it was on fire. A slow, predatory smile played on her lips.
“My my,” Ivy repeated, her voice a low thrum that vibrated in Harmony’s bones. “What delicious presents for me.”
Harley let out a sharp, delighted laugh, twisting her foot slightly to feel the vine’s grip. “You like the wrapping, Red? We picked it out special.”
“I can see that.” Ivy’s gaze traveled over them, a deliberate, scorching path from Harley’s red-strapped curves to Harmony’s barely-there black lace. The air in the room thickened, heavy with salt and anticipation.
Another vine, slender and questing, slid up Harmony’s calf. She shivered, her breath catching. It was one thing to understand, intellectually, that Ivy commanded the very flora in the ground. It was another to feel it—a sentient, gentle pressure mapping the terrain of her skin. It felt like being seen in a way eyes could never manage.
“She’s shaking,” Harley observed, her tone laced with a dark, thrilled amusement. “Cute.”
Ivy took a step forward, then another, her movements fluid and unnervingly silent. “She’s feeling it. The connection. Most people just see plants. They don’t feel the life in them.” She stopped inches from Harmony, her green eyes fathomless. “You feel it, don’t you, little one?”
Harmony could only nod, her throat tight. The vine had reached the back of her knee, a tender, intimate caress.
“Good.” Ivy’s hand came up, not to touch Harmony, but to trace the air beside her cheek. “Harley. Come here.”
With a giddy little bounce that was pure Harley, she tried to step forward, but the vines around her ankles held fast. She giggled. “Uh, kinda stuck, Pammy.”
“I didn’t say walk,” Ivy murmured, her eyes still locked on Harmony. “I said come.”
The vines around Harley’s ankles tightened and then, with a sudden, smooth pull, yanked her feet out from under her. She yelped, but the sound was cut short as a thicker vine shot out from the shadowy corner near the bed, catching her neatly around the waist before she could hit the floor. It suspended her in mid-air, horizontal, her red straps digging into her pale skin.
“Whoa!” Harley laughed, squirming in the green grip. “A little warning next time!”
Ivy finally turned her head, a smirk gracing her features. “Where’s the fun in that?” She flicked her wrist, and another vine, this one adorned with soft, velvety leaves, curled around Harley’s wrist, pulling her arm gently but firmly above her head. It fixed itself to the bedpost with an audible creak.
Harmony watched, mesmerized and a little terrified, as Harley was slowly, methodically restrained. A vine wrapped around her other wrist, stretching her out. She was trussed up like a feast, completely vulnerable, and her blue eyes were blazing with excitement.
“See, Harm?” Harley called out, her voice breathy. “This is what happens when you play in Poison Ivy’s garden. You get picked.”
Ivy’s attention returned to Harmony. The vine behind her knee urged her forward, one stumbling step, then two, until she was close enough to feel the heat from Ivy’s body. “Your turn,” Ivy whispered. “How do you want to be presented?”
The question hung in the air, a choice that felt immense. Harmony’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at Harley, suspended and watching her with avid encouragement. She looked back at Ivy, whose power was a palpable force in the room. The clingy, desperate part of her that had feared being left out just hours before was gone. In its place was a steady, thrilling certainty.
“I don’t want to be presented,” Harmony said, her voice surprisingly steady. “I want to help you unwrap her.”
A beat of stunned silence. Then, Harley’s joyous, cackling laugh echoed through the room. “Oh, I taught you well! Yes! Let her, Red! Let the baby villain have a turn!”
Ivy’s eyebrows rose, a genuine look of surprise breaking through her controlled mask. It was there for only a second before it melted into something deeply, dangerously approving. She leaned in, her lips brushing Harmony’s ear. “Then show me what you’d do.”
Ivy stepped back, giving her space. The vine released Harmony’s ankles. She was free. She walked toward the bed where Harley was splayed, her movements feeling both dreamlike and hyper-real. The setting sun caught the dust motes in the air, turning them to gold. The sound of the waves was a relentless, rhythmic counterpoint to Harley’s quick, excited breathing.
Harmony stopped beside the bed, looking down at Harley. The power dynamic had shifted so completely it made her head spin. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the buckle of the strap on Harley’s thigh.
“Well?” Harley challenged, her grin wide and unhinged. “Gonna just stare all day? Clock’s tickin’, Hayes.”
Harmony’s fingers found the buckle. It was cool metal. She unfastened it with a soft click. The strap fell away, revealing the pale skin beneath. She moved to the next one, her movements slow, deliberate. This wasn’t just about undressing. It was a dissection. A study.
She could feel Ivy watching her, a silent, intense presence from across the room. It was like being under a microscope and being given the keys to the lab at the same time.
With the last strap undone, the red lingerie hung loose on Harley’s frame. Harmony didn’t pull it off. Instead, she placed a hand flat on Harley’s stomach, feeling the muscles jump beneath her palm. Harley’s breathing hitched.
“You’re so loud,” Harmony whispered, not looking at Harley’s face but at the place where her hand met skin.
“What?” Harley breathed.
“Your skin. Your breath. Your heartbeat. It’s all so loud.” Harmony finally met her gaze. “I like it.”
She leaned down, her curls brushing Harley’s side, and pressed her open mouth to the delicate skin just below Harley’s ribcage. She didn’t kiss. She tasted. Salt, sweat, and the faint, chemical cherry of her lip gloss.
Above her, Harley gasped, a sharp, ragged sound. The vines holding her wrists tightened their grip.
From her periphery, Harmony saw Ivy move. She came to stand on the other side of the bed, her expression one of rapt fascination. She reached out and trailed a single, green-tipped nail down Harley’s other side, a mirror image of Harmony’s attention.
“She’s right,” Ivy said, her voice hushed. “You are beautifully loud.”
Trapped between them, subjected to their shared, focused attention, Harley Quinn began to come undone. The bravado melted away, replaced by raw, unfiltered sensation. Her laughs turned into whimpers, her challenges into pleas.
Harmony looked up at Ivy over the landscape of Harley’s body. The setting sun was in Ivy’s hair, a final, brilliant burst of orange before it dipped below the horizon. In the dimming light, Ivy’s eyes glowed like embers.
“Our mess,” Harmony said, repeating her words from the kitchen.
Ivy held her gaze, the connection between them as tangible as the vines on the bed. “Our mess,” she agreed.
Then she leaned down, and they both descended upon their beautiful, terrifying, perfectly shared chaos. The last of the light faded, leaving only the sound of the ocean and the three of them, tangled together in the dark.