Chapter 6: Blanket Fort of Sin
The stale, antiseptic air in Harmony’s padded cell felt thick enough to choke on after the sharp chill of the yard. Distant, muffled screams echoed down the corridor outside, a constant reminder of where they were. Harmony leaned against the cold, padded wall, catching her breath, the phantom ache of concrete still blooming across her shoulders and hips from Harley’s ‘lessons’. Harley, however, vibrated with restless energy. She paced the small space like a caged tigress, the institutional grey sweats doing nothing to dim her chaotic aura. Her eyes, bright and predatory, kept flicking back to Harmony.
"See, sweetcheeks?" Harley chirped, stopping abruptly inches from Harmony. The manic cheer in her voice didn't quite hide the raw edge beneath. "Toldja ya had some spark. Knocked me off my game for a whole half-second back there." She grinned, a flash of white teeth. "Gotta admit, kinda liked it."
Harmony swallowed, her pulse kicking up again under Harley’s unwavering scrutiny. The memory of Harley’s body pressed flush against hers, the lingering heat of her hands, the dangerous promise in her eyes – it wasn’t fear thrumming through Harmony now, not entirely. It was something hotter, sharper, a confusing cocktail of adrenaline and a dark pull she couldn’t name. "Didn't mean to kick you," she mumbled, looking away at the sterile white padding.
Harley barked a laugh, sharp and sudden. "The hell you didn't! That was pure instinct. Raw. Dirty." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down Harmony’s spine. Her breath was warm against Harmony’s ear. "And that, dollface, is exactly what you need more of in this shithole. Less flinch, more fuck you." She pulled back, her gaze sweeping over Harmony’s face, lingering on her lips. "But instinct needs… direction. Refinement. Ya can't just flail around when things get real, y'know?"
Harmony looked back at her, a spark of defiance flaring in her hazel eyes. "What kind of direction?" The question hung in the stifling air.
Harley’s smile widened, turning predatory. A slow, deliberate curve of her lips that promised chaos. She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, sugar," she purred, her voice low and rough, "I've got plenty of ways to keep those fingers busy… and teach 'em a thing or two." Her gaze dropped meaningfully to the thin, scratchy wool blanket crumpled on the bare mattress in the corner – the only soft(ish) thing in the stark cell.
Harmony’s breath hitched. She understood the implication instantly. The air crackled. The distant screams faded into a dull buzz. All she could hear was the rapid thud of her own heart and the soft rustle of Harley’s movements.
Harley didn’t wait for a response. She crossed the small cell in two strides, snatched up the grey blanket, and shook it out with a sharp snap. The coarse wool fibers caught the weak light filtering through the high, barred window. She turned back to Harmony, holding the blanket loosely, her head tilted.
"C'mere," Harley commanded, not unkindly, but with a certainty that brooked no argument. Her voice had lost its manic edge, replaced by a focused intensity Harmony hadn’t seen before. It was unsettling. Thrilling.
Harmony pushed herself off the wall, her legs feeling oddly unsteady. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, closing the distance until she stood before Harley, close enough to smell the faint chemical tang of asylum soap on her skin, the lingering scent of sweat from the yard. Harley’s proximity was a physical force, radiating heat and danger.
"Hands," Harley murmured. Harmony lifted her hands, palms facing outwards, a slight tremor running through them. Harley’s own hands, surprisingly deft despite their knuckles often being bruised or scraped, moved with deliberate slowness. She didn’t grab. She draped the scratchy wool blanket over Harmony’s outstretched palms. The rough texture was immediately abrasive against her skin.
"Feel that?" Harley asked, her voice a low thrum. Her fingertips brushed Harmony’s knuckles as she adjusted the blanket, sending a jolt through her. "Itchy. Harsh. Annoying as hell." Her eyes locked onto Harmony’s. "Like everything in this fucking place. But it can be… useful." Her fingers slid along the back of Harmony’s hands, guiding them to grip the corners of the blanket firmly. "Hold tight."
Harmony obeyed, her knuckles whitening as she clutched the coarse fabric. Harley moved behind her then, so close Harmony could feel the heat of her body against her back. Harley’s arms reached around, her own hands covering Harmony’s where they held the blanket. Her touch was firm, guiding.
"Now," Harley breathed, her lips grazing the sensitive skin just below Harmony’s ear. Harmony shuddered, a bolt of pure heat shooting straight down her spine to pool low in her belly. "Imagine this ain't a blanket. Imagine it's… somethin' else. Someone else." Harley’s hips pressed forward, pushing Harmony’s back flush against her front. Harmony gasped, her head instinctively tilting back against Harley’s shoulder. She could feel the hard lines of Harley’s body through the thin layers of their clothes – the lean muscle, the surprising strength. "Someone tryin' to grab ya. Pin ya."
Harley’s hands tightened over Harmony’s, her grip almost painful. She pulled Harmony’s arms forward and slightly down, manipulating the blanket as if it were an assailant. "They got your wrists? Good. Trap 'em." Harley’s knee nudged Harmony’s leg wider apart. Harmony stumbled slightly, her balance shifting entirely against Harley’s solid frame. "Use the friction, the grip. Anchor yourself." Harley’s voice was a hot whisper against Harmony’s neck, a stark contrast to the rough blanket in her hands. Her teeth grazed Harmony’s earlobe. "Then… move."
With surprising force for her size, Harley twisted her hips sharply, guiding Harmony’s body in a swift pivot. Harmony went with the momentum, the blanket twisting taut in her grip. They spun together, the small cell seeming to whirl around them. Harmony’s back slammed lightly against the padded wall again, Harley pressed against her front now, their bodies aligned from chest to thigh. Harley’s leg slid between Harmony’s, applying delicious, relentless pressure against the sudden, aching throb between her legs. Harmony moaned, a low, involuntary sound torn from her throat.
The blanket was forgotten, crumpled against the wall beside them. Harley didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes, blazing blue, bored into Harmony’s, inches away. The playful menace was gone, replaced by a raw, predatory hunger that stole Harmony’s breath.
"See?" Harley rasped, her voice thick. Her hips ground against Harmony’s trapped thigh. "Leverage. Momentum. Turning their grab into your power." One hand released the blanket, sliding up to cup Harmony’s jaw with startling gentleness. Her thumb brushed Harmony’s lower lip, rough and demanding. "But sometimes…" Harley leaned in, her breath mingling with Harmony’s, "…power ain't about throwing punches." Her other hand abandoned the blanket entirely, sliding down Harmony’s side, over her hip, and gripping her ass hard through the thin sweats. Harmony cried out, arching into the touch. "Sometimes…" Harley whispered, her lips hovering, "…it's about knowing exactly where to touch. To make 'em beg."
She closed the distance.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It was a claiming. Harley’s mouth crashed down on Harmony’s, fierce and demanding. Her tongue plunged past Harmony’s parted lips, a hot, relentless invasion that tasted faintly of stale coffee and danger. Harmony melted against her, a firestorm igniting in her veins. Her hands, freed from the blanket, clutched desperately at the back of Harley’s sweatshirt, pulling her impossibly closer. The coarse wool of the forgotten blanket scratched against the bare skin of her forearm, a harsh counterpoint to the searing heat of Harley’s mouth and hands.
Harley’s hands were everywhere. One tangled roughly in Harmony’s messy brown curls, tugging her head back to deepen the kiss, sending spikes of pain and pleasure through her scalp. The other hand slid under the hem of Harmony’s oversized Arkham t-shirt, calloused fingertips scraping possessively up the sensitive skin of her flank, then higher, roughly palming her breast through the thin cotton of her bra. Harmony gasped into Harley’s mouth, her nipple hardening instantly under the abrasive touch.
"Fuck," Harley groaned against her lips, squeezing hard, rolling the stiff peak between her fingers. "Knew you'd be sweet under all that scared bunny shit." She broke the kiss, trailing hot, wet bites down Harmony’s throat, nipping at the frantic pulse point. Her hand slid down again, fingers hooking into the waistband of Harmony’s sweats and underwear, yanking them down in one rough motion to bunch around her thighs. The sudden rush of cool air against her exposed skin was shocking, fleeting, instantly replaced by the burning heat of Harley’s gaze as she stared down at the thatch of brown curls.
"Look at you," Harley breathed, her voice thick with lust. "All wet and needy already." She dropped to her knees faster than thought, her hands splaying on Harmony’s bare hips, pinning her against the padded wall. Harmony cried out as Harley’s hot mouth descended, her tongue lashing out in a broad, filthy stroke from Harmony’s entrance all the way up to her clit. Harmony’s knees buckled, but Harley’s grip held her upright.
Harley didn’t tease. She devoured. Her tongue was relentless, spearing into Harmony’s entrance, fucking her with rough, shallow thrusts that made Harmony’s inner muscles clench around the intrusion. Then swirling, pressing hard against her swollen clit, circling it with bruising pressure before sucking it into her mouth. Harmony screamed, her head slamming back against the padding, her fingers clawing at Harley’s shoulders, her scalp. The scratchy wool blanket was half underneath her, a persistent, abrasive itch against her bare ass and thigh, a maddening counterpoint to the searing wet heat between her legs.
"Yeah, scream, baby," Harley growled, her voice vibrating against Harmony’s clit, making her jerk violently. "Let the whole fucking nuthouse know who owns this sweet little cunt now." She plunged two fingers deep inside Harmony without warning, curling them upwards, finding that spot instantly. Harmony’s vision whited out. She writhed, impaled on Harley’s fingers and tongue, the coarse blanket scraping her skin, the taste of Harley’s mouth still on her lips, the thick scent of her own arousal mingling with the antiseptic stink of the cell.
Harley fucked her hard and fast, her fingers pistoning, her tongue working her clit with ruthless expertise. She looked up, meeting Harmony’s dazed, desperate eyes. "That's it, take it. Take my fingers, my tongue. Beg for it, Hayes. Beg for me to make you come."
"I... I can't..." Harmony gasped, her hips grinding desperately against Harley’s face, chasing the brutal friction. She was begging, soundless pleas echoing in the frantic pounding of her heart.
"You can," Harley snarled, sucking hard on her clit, her fingers hooking viciously inside her. "You fucking will. Come for me. Now."
The orgasm ripped through Harmony like a detonation. It wasn't pleasure. It was annihilation. Her body bowed off the wall, a raw, guttural scream tearing from her throat as wave after wave of shattering intensity crashed over her. She convulsed around Harley’s relentless fingers, her vision pulsing black and red. Harley held her through it, her mouth still working, drawing out the brutal spasms until Harmony slumped, boneless and trembling, held up only by Harley’s hands and the wall.
Harley slowly withdrew her fingers, slick and gleaming. She rose fluidly to her feet, licking her fingers clean with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving Harmony’s wrecked face. Harmony panted, her legs shaking violently, the rough blanket a now-ignored irritant against her splayed thighs. Harley leaned in, pressing her body flush against Harmony’s again, trapping her. She kissed her, deep and filthy, letting Harmony taste herself on Harley’s tongue.
"Lesson one," Harley murmured against her lips, her voice husky with satisfaction, her hand sliding possessively down to squeeze Harmony’s ass once more. "Find the leverage. Use whatcha got." Her grin was feral, triumphant. "Even a fuckin' scratchy blanket." She pulled Harmony’s sweats back up with a rough tug, her fingers lingering. "And lesson two? Never assume the fight ends when you hit the wall."
Before Harmony could muster a coherent thought, the heavy door clanged open. A bored, burly orderly stood silhouetted in the doorway, oblivious to the electric tension, the scent of sex thick in the air. "Quinn. Rec time’s over. Back to your wing. Now."
Harley winked at Harmony, a flash of pure, chaotic glee. "Duty calls, sweet cheeks." She sauntered towards the door, pausing only to snatch the discarded grey blanket off the floor. She tossed it back onto the mattress with a flourish. "Keep practicing, Hayes," she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing down the corridor as she followed the orderly out. "Next lesson’s gonna be even better."
The door clanged shut, leaving Harmony alone in the suddenly silent, sterile cell. Her body hummed, still vibrating with the brutal aftershocks. The rough imprint of the blanket felt like a brand on her skin. She slid down the padded wall to the floor, her breath catching in her throat. The memory of Harley’s mouth, her fingers, her raw command, was seared into her nerves. The orderly’s voice echoed again, distant commands mingling with a fresh wave of distant screaming. Harmony closed her eyes, pressing her thighs together tightly. Fear was still there, a cold undercurrent. But it was drowned out now by something hotter, wilder, and infinitely more dangerous. She’d begged. She’d come. And Harley Quinn knew it. The fight, Harmony realized with dawning, terrifying clarity, had only just begun. And the wall was the last place she wanted to be pinned.