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browngirlAnd the last one in my week of posting edited Porn Ficlets!
Title: Clarity
Rating: hard R
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Harvey Dent / Rachel Dawes
Warnings: het, slash, threesome. Mild spoilers for first half of movie.
Summary: She could go back to Bruce's wide warm bed.
Fandom & Prompt: The Dark Knight, Rachel/Harvey/Bruce, chilly
Disclaimer: The characters herein do not belong to me.
Rachel leans her forehead against the cool window, staring out at the glittering skyline and red-black sky of a Gotham night. The glass doesn't show her reflection, giving her the disconcerting sense she's leaning on air, reminding her of how empty air felt streaming around her as she fell.
She shivers and hugs herself. She could turn around and go back to bed, Bruce's wide warm bed. Bruce and Harvey are asleep there, tucked a lot closer than she might have expected, and one side of her mouth quirks against the glass. They look good together. They'd looked really good together after she stupidly drank the huge brandy Bruce gave her when he brought her back to Harvey, while Bruce set his hand on Harvey's shoulder, curving it to the muscle underneath his suit, and said, "don't go, it'll just take me a minute to clear this up."
Because Bruce had asked him, because she wanted arms close around her after that expanse of rushing air and the mad void in the Joker's eyes, they'd stayed.
Rachel shakes her head, rolling her forehead against the glass. Their four hands and four legs, two sets of broad shoulders and two reverent mouths, that memory is all a haze of brandy and pleasure. Harvey breathless under Bruce's mouth and her hands, his eyes as clear as water until they rolled back beneath his lids, his hands pressing into her skin just a little past gentle as he came, that flashes through her mind as a series of images. But Bruce's face when he sat up, the flush along his cheekbones, the way his bottomless eyes pulled her to him regardless of his hands, that she remembers completely clearly. She remembers his arm around her waist, lifting her onto him, his fine sheets smooth beneath her knees; she remembers Harvey's arm around her, his surprised smile as Bruce pulled him up as well. She remembers Bruce's shoulders inflexible beneath her hands, Bruce's hand in Harvey's hair, Harvey's head tilted back as Bruce kissed him forcefully, the way Bruce went abruptly still against Harvey's moving mouth and Rachel's rocking hips when he came.
She hadn't been drunk anymore, she remembers that too. Not even on adrenaline. Something else had surged in her blood, sharpening her vision to clarity, as she watched Harvey blink dazed eyes, watched Bruce's eyes open slowly, unblinkingly focused on Harvey. She watched them stare at each other, the current running chill in her blood.
Behind her, Rachel hears a catch in one man's breath, though the other continues with steady softness. Bruce is awake, probably, if he ever went to sleep. He'd kissed Rachel, almost lightly, and passed her to Harvey, and Harvey had kissed her with exhilaration, his smile bright, his hands warm. They'd lain down in each other's arms, and Bruce had kissed Harvey, kissed the nape of Rachel's neck, and tucked himself to her back; but when Rachel woke up, Bruce was between them, her arms were around him, his arm across Harvey's waist.
She thinks she can feel his eyes on her now, as she looks out into the night.
There's a shift and a rustle behind her, footsteps, but she doesn't look back. Strong hands settle on her shoulders, and when Harvey says, "Rachel, honey," into her hair, she's actually a little surprised as she turns. She smiles and kisses him, and lays her head on his shoulder as his arms wrap warmly around her, and as Bruce watches them unblinkingly from the bed she smiles gratefully at him for sending Harvey.
Title: Clarity
Rating: hard R
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Harvey Dent / Rachel Dawes
Warnings: het, slash, threesome. Mild spoilers for first half of movie.
Summary: She could go back to Bruce's wide warm bed.
Fandom & Prompt: The Dark Knight, Rachel/Harvey/Bruce, chilly
Disclaimer: The characters herein do not belong to me.
Rachel leans her forehead against the cool window, staring out at the glittering skyline and red-black sky of a Gotham night. The glass doesn't show her reflection, giving her the disconcerting sense she's leaning on air, reminding her of how empty air felt streaming around her as she fell.
She shivers and hugs herself. She could turn around and go back to bed, Bruce's wide warm bed. Bruce and Harvey are asleep there, tucked a lot closer than she might have expected, and one side of her mouth quirks against the glass. They look good together. They'd looked really good together after she stupidly drank the huge brandy Bruce gave her when he brought her back to Harvey, while Bruce set his hand on Harvey's shoulder, curving it to the muscle underneath his suit, and said, "don't go, it'll just take me a minute to clear this up."
Because Bruce had asked him, because she wanted arms close around her after that expanse of rushing air and the mad void in the Joker's eyes, they'd stayed.
Rachel shakes her head, rolling her forehead against the glass. Their four hands and four legs, two sets of broad shoulders and two reverent mouths, that memory is all a haze of brandy and pleasure. Harvey breathless under Bruce's mouth and her hands, his eyes as clear as water until they rolled back beneath his lids, his hands pressing into her skin just a little past gentle as he came, that flashes through her mind as a series of images. But Bruce's face when he sat up, the flush along his cheekbones, the way his bottomless eyes pulled her to him regardless of his hands, that she remembers completely clearly. She remembers his arm around her waist, lifting her onto him, his fine sheets smooth beneath her knees; she remembers Harvey's arm around her, his surprised smile as Bruce pulled him up as well. She remembers Bruce's shoulders inflexible beneath her hands, Bruce's hand in Harvey's hair, Harvey's head tilted back as Bruce kissed him forcefully, the way Bruce went abruptly still against Harvey's moving mouth and Rachel's rocking hips when he came.
She hadn't been drunk anymore, she remembers that too. Not even on adrenaline. Something else had surged in her blood, sharpening her vision to clarity, as she watched Harvey blink dazed eyes, watched Bruce's eyes open slowly, unblinkingly focused on Harvey. She watched them stare at each other, the current running chill in her blood.
Behind her, Rachel hears a catch in one man's breath, though the other continues with steady softness. Bruce is awake, probably, if he ever went to sleep. He'd kissed Rachel, almost lightly, and passed her to Harvey, and Harvey had kissed her with exhilaration, his smile bright, his hands warm. They'd lain down in each other's arms, and Bruce had kissed Harvey, kissed the nape of Rachel's neck, and tucked himself to her back; but when Rachel woke up, Bruce was between them, her arms were around him, his arm across Harvey's waist.
She thinks she can feel his eyes on her now, as she looks out into the night.
There's a shift and a rustle behind her, footsteps, but she doesn't look back. Strong hands settle on her shoulders, and when Harvey says, "Rachel, honey," into her hair, she's actually a little surprised as she turns. She smiles and kisses him, and lays her head on his shoulder as his arms wrap warmly around her, and as Bruce watches them unblinkingly from the bed she smiles gratefully at him for sending Harvey.
