(Explicit, fluffy, and 100 % overprotective-mommy energy)
Damien woke up slowly, warm and drowsy, and immediately realized two things:
He was in the middle of the giant bed again.He was trapped.
Joki's arms were locked around his waist from behind, her enormous chest pressed to his back like the softest, warmest wall in existence. Harley had claimed the front, cheek on his collarbone, one leg hooked over both of his so that any tiny movement made her hug him tighter in her sleep.
He tried to wiggle free.
Both women woke instantly.
"Where do you think you're going, baby?" Joki's voice was soft, but her arms turned to steel.
"Nuh-uh," Harley mumbled, nuzzling closer. "Escape attempts are not allowed before noon."
Damien's face went scarlet. "I-I just… bathroom…"
The second the word left his mouth both women shot upright, suddenly wide-eyed and terrifying.
"Is someone in there?!" Joki hissed, already reaching for the gun on the nightstand.
"On it!" Harley rolled off the bed in nothing but tiny red shorts and sprinted for the bathroom door, kicking it open like she expected assassins.
Damien squeaked. "It's just me needing to pee!"
They escorted him anyway.
One on each side, arms linked through his, like bodyguards made of perfume and curves. Joki stood directly outside the door. Harley leaned against the frame, tapping her foot.
"I'll be thirty seconds," Damien whispered, mortified.
"Take all the time you need, sweetheart," Joki called sweetly. "Mommy's right here if anyone tries anything."
He peed faster than he ever had in his life.
Breakfast was worse.
He sat at the kitchen island in one of Joki's oversized silk shirts (it hung to his knees) while Joki cooked pancakes and Harley hovered.
"Open," Harley cooed, holding a forkful of pancake to his lips.
"I-I can feed myself—"
"Open," Joki repeated, leaning over the counter so the neckline of her robe gaped distractingly. "Mommy worked very hard on these."
Damien opened. His ears were on fire.
Frost's call came while Damien was on his third pancake.
"The Five Families want a sit-down tonight," Frost said nervously. "Penguin's pushing. They think the Joker's… gone. They're testing us."
Joki's spatula froze mid-flip. Harley's smile vanished.
Damien felt his stomach drop straight through the floor.
"I-I don't want to go," he whispered, shrinking in his seat. "I'm not… I'm not good at that stuff. I'll just mess it up…"
Both women were in front of him in a heartbeat.
Joki cupped his face gently. "Baby, you don't have to say a single word tonight. Mommy and Harley will handle everything."
Harley knelt so they were eye-level. "Anyone who even looks at you funny is getting a personal introduction to my fists. Promise."
Damien bit his lip. "But… what if they laugh at me?"
Joki's eyes flashed murder. "Then they won't have teeth left to laugh with."
Eight o'clock. Falcone restaurant.
The back room looked like a gothic nightclub: low red lighting, black table, velvet chairs.
Damien walked in clutching Joki's hand so hard his knuckles were white. He wore a simple black suit they'd picked out (collar buttoned all the way up because he felt safer that way). His other hand was tangled in Harley's fingers.
He looked exactly like a shy teenage boy being dragged to a school dance by two terrifyingly beautiful older sisters.
Joki and Harley, meanwhile, looked like walking war crimes.
Joki wore a floor-length purple dress with a slit so high it was basically a suggestion. Harley wore red leather that left her midriff and most of her back bare. They flanked Damien like twin attack dogs wearing lipstick.
Every capo stood when they entered.
Damien tried to hide behind Joki's arm.
Penguin opened his mouth.
Harley leaned forward, smile sweet, voice deadly. "One rude noise and I start collecting monocles. With your eyeballs still in them."
Penguin sat down very carefully.
The meeting lasted twelve minutes.
Damien never said a word. He didn't have to.
Every time someone's tone edged toward disrespectful, Joki's grip on his shoulder tightened protectively and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Every time someone glanced at Damien too long, Harley cracked her knuckles and hummed a cheerful little tune about broken knees.
By minute ten, grown men who'd once fed people to sharks were stammering apologies and offering tribute.
By minute twelve, the entire Gotham underworld had a new official title for Damien:
"The Prince. Do not touch. Do not look too long. Do not breathe too loud."
When it was over, Joki scooped Damien up (actually scooped him, arms under his thighs and back) and carried him out bridal-style while Harley cleared a path, glaring at anyone who dared exist in their general vicinity.
Back in the elevator, Damien buried his burning face in Joki's neck.
"I was so scared," he mumbled, voice tiny.
Joki kissed his hair. "You were perfect."
Harley pressed against his back, wrapping arms around both of them. "Nobody's ever gonna hurt you again, baby bro. Not while we're breathing."
In the penthouse, they didn't even make it to the bedroom.
They ended up on the huge plush couch, Damien curled in Joki's lap while Harley stretched out beside them, both women surrounding him completely.
Joki's fingers stroked through his hair. Harley traced gentle circles on his arm.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Joki whispered.
Damien nodded against her chest. "I just… I don't like when people look at me like that."
"They won't anymore," Harley said firmly. "Word's gonna spread real fast: mess with the Prince and you mess with us."
Damien peeked up at them, eyes big and shy. "You're… really not embarrassed to be seen with me?"
Joki's answer was to tilt his chin up and kiss him slow and soft and possessive.
Harley kissed his temple next. "Embarrassed? Baby, we're proud. You're ours. And we protect what's ours."
Damien let out a shaky little breath and melted between them, letting their warmth chase away every leftover tremor.
Hours later, tangled together on the couch under a blanket that smelled like vanilla and gunpowder, Damien slept deeper than he ever had.
Outside, Gotham whispered a new rule in the dark:
The city had a prince now.
He was quiet.
He was shy.
He was untouchable.
Because anyone who tried would have to get through two very, very overprotective mommies first.
End of Chapter Three.