Her expression, at least, isn't so much a sexy cyborg of destruction. It's more the look of someone trying to figure out how to wiggle their ears with a car barreling toward them. "Okay, just- instinct. Yeah. I can do that."
Her captive is starting to struggle again; and Harley's instinct is to punch him in the face; both for the satisfaction of feeling her fist hit skin, and because she was going to let this asshole go. She really was. He'd seemed sweet- and wasn't that always the way of it? Sweet, and cute, sort of- and even now she can see it, big blue eyes sleepy and struggling back into consciousness. There's a flush to his face, like when they were kissing- sucking in breath like it's going out of style and he's just so damn alive, the pulse point in his neck fluttering wildly, and Harley can't stop staring at it-
His hands are grabbing at hers again, harder this time; and Harley shoves him backwards, into the cold brick wall of the bar. She only means to keep him from getting away; but then they're chest to chest again, lips inches apart, and the strands of hair that had stretched nearly their full length can finally reach their target.
There's no wrapping and squeezing, like Jacks's wires. Strands of fiber optics shoot forward when his shoulders hit the wall, plunging their ends in a long line up and around his neck. There are spots where they cluster, high up under his jaw, and a few that find space up on his cheeks. The long threads that don't find purchase blow up and around them, instead, Harley's hair floating in a cloud around her face like she's just dived under water. Pink and blue and yellow light flares uncomfortably bright, and that pulse shocks through her system again, coming from somewhere down in her chest and pushing up and out like a scream. The boy arches, muscles locking up and convulsing as the wave of electricity hits him- and then it's flooding back into her, hot and raw and fucking perfect.
The boy's screams drown out the breathy little noises that escape Harley's mouth, hanging open and lost in a drink better than a cold beer on the hottest day of the summer. Pulsing points of light start where fiber optics are buried under his skin, traveling up the strands, and disappearing into Harley's scalp. Not that she's paying attention.
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Her captive is starting to struggle again; and Harley's instinct is to punch him in the face; both for the satisfaction of feeling her fist hit skin, and because she was going to let this asshole go. She really was. He'd seemed sweet- and wasn't that always the way of it? Sweet, and cute, sort of- and even now she can see it, big blue eyes sleepy and struggling back into consciousness. There's a flush to his face, like when they were kissing- sucking in breath like it's going out of style and he's just so damn alive, the pulse point in his neck fluttering wildly, and Harley can't stop staring at it-
His hands are grabbing at hers again, harder this time; and Harley shoves him backwards, into the cold brick wall of the bar. She only means to keep him from getting away; but then they're chest to chest again, lips inches apart, and the strands of hair that had stretched nearly their full length can finally reach their target.
There's no wrapping and squeezing, like Jacks's wires. Strands of fiber optics shoot forward when his shoulders hit the wall, plunging their ends in a long line up and around his neck. There are spots where they cluster, high up under his jaw, and a few that find space up on his cheeks. The long threads that don't find purchase blow up and around them, instead, Harley's hair floating in a cloud around her face like she's just dived under water. Pink and blue and yellow light flares uncomfortably bright, and that pulse shocks through her system again, coming from somewhere down in her chest and pushing up and out like a scream. The boy arches, muscles locking up and convulsing as the wave of electricity hits him- and then it's flooding back into her, hot and raw and fucking perfect.
The boy's screams drown out the breathy little noises that escape Harley's mouth, hanging open and lost in a drink better than a cold beer on the hottest day of the summer. Pulsing points of light start where fiber optics are buried under his skin, traveling up the strands, and disappearing into Harley's scalp. Not that she's paying attention.