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How many kisses do you need?

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Their romps are quick and dirty, none of that excessive touching, sweet-talking, or kissing bullshit (although she wants to kiss him so bad), it's all just adrenaline that needs to go somewhere, and her lips, well, they can't go near his face. Doesn't matter if she rubs her lipstick all over his cock while choking on it, but red spells danger, and getting something on his uniform, his neck, or – God forbid – his mouth, where she wants it most, means getting them in trouble.

No one can know.

She's not so much worried about his reputation. Oh sure, he's fraternizing with the enemy, playing favorites perhaps, breaking some code of honor or something – shock, gasp, horror!

He could live without his reputation. Ask Harley, she's destroyed hers and build up a new one. Ain't that hard. So maybe he wants something different from life, but he can't want much if he's running spec ops. Probably has a death wish too, or he'd keep his hands off what's Mr. J's. Her puddin', bless his pasty face, is known to cut off the lips of those brave – yeah okay, foolish – enough to whistle after her booty. And someone foolish enough to tap that booty? Cut-off bits might be the least of their problems.

Her kiss, even the chaste smoochy lips she'd print on anyone's cheek, would become the mark of Judas: a sign of love and of betrayal.

All because she's selfish, all because it's fun and thrilling and feels so fucking good.

Though, why should she care what happens? It's not like it's her fault he's fallen for her reckless advances (okay, maybe a bit, what of it). She's just playing games, nothing out of the ordinary, she means no harm. Surely Mr. J won't get mad if no one's assailing her honor, if she chose this – him – for herself?

(Haha, keep dreaming, Harls. He's never gonna let you get away with it, neither one of you, and you know it, silly girl. The only thing you can do, if you know what's good, is keep your trap shut and not let anyone find out. Because if they do, your beloved puddin' does, and then he's gonna break your new favorite plaything. Boohoo. And guess who'll be next on the list?)

So, it's self-preservation, because why else should she care? It's not that she's grown fond of him or anything. He certainly ain't nice to her, not more than usual, which means not at all; she's a criminal for Chrissakes, and he the good guy, he can't be seen liking her. Or worrying about her safety overly much, because safety's not what the Squad's about, he knew that when he signed on.

Still, she can't help the mad flutter in her chest whenever they make it out of a tight spot alive, or wanting to snog him so bad she's prepared to throw caution to the wind.

Trouble is, Harley knows one day she will, because caution? Just ain't her style.