[He chews the inside of his cheek, then finally tips up his chin to meet his eyes almost challengingly, his bouncy leg settling. He could agree to listen, but believing, that would take a little more time. It's strange, intimidating, being desired, being wanted by anyone for more than the favours he can provide; the amazement and the gut-deep, shivery thrill it inspires can only be at odds with the ideas a childhood full of giggling classmates and pointing fingers and bloody noses have bludgeoned into his head. What Ed and Riddler see in him, a tired, bleary-eyed wreck, when they look at him now, is a riddle he thinks he may never be able to crack. But maybe Ed's attraction is not for him to understand, but to accept. To greedily embrace and run with, until Ed changed his mind.
He never much cared for riddles anyway.
His gaze flickers to Ed's mouth, his heart thudding fast in his throat when he works himself up to it and finally leans in to make good on his word. His nose pokes Ed's cheek, lips touching down at the corner of Ed's with a boyish clumsiness. When he adjusts his angle and tries again, their mouths pressing together, it's still with none of the fierceness and sureness with which he stakes his claim on the city. It's too gentle for that, as if it's permission he's seeking, forgiveness.]
no subject
He never much cared for riddles anyway.
His gaze flickers to Ed's mouth, his heart thudding fast in his throat when he works himself up to it and finally leans in to make good on his word. His nose pokes Ed's cheek, lips touching down at the corner of Ed's with a boyish clumsiness. When he adjusts his angle and tries again, their mouths pressing together, it's still with none of the fierceness and sureness with which he stakes his claim on the city. It's too gentle for that, as if it's permission he's seeking, forgiveness.]