theansweris | PSL 03: tact from me is like blood from a stone

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PSL 03: tact from me is like blood from a stone

Riddler takes them out to try and calm Ed down.

Away from the house and temptation and messy emotions, Ed does start to settle again, until he's quieted down and able to function again. Riddler's relieved and lets Ed pick the lock on the framing shop, letting himself in and acquiring what he needs and letting himself back out again with no sign of robbery. It's possible it might take them months to realise it ever happened.

Ed, being the sentimental one, is satisfied with this.

Riddler is not.

He spends a while acquiring his present. It's not as valuable as it could be, but he's satisfied. And that's enough for them to go home and get changed into more casual clothes and settle on the bedclothes with a book. He might sleep. He might not. Either way, he could be quiet until morning.

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[Letting go has never been his forte. There's a niggling idea, at the very back of his mind, that he should have it in him to hold out just a while longer, despite his balls pulling tight and every muscle in his stomach and pelvis knotting fiercely. But all it takes is a little encouragement, as if permission was all he ever needed, that velvety whisper in his ear setting him off with a shudder, a keening sigh. He surges in Ed's hand, ropes of come slapping his heaving belly, the sheets. Starbursts of light still popping behind his eye when he has nothing left to give and sinks into the mattress, gasping and boneless.

His grip on Ed's hand softens.]

Riddler stops squeezing and pulling almost immediately, purely based on his own preferences. He keeps his hand there, warm and holding loosely but not adding any stimulation.

And then he comes up for a kiss. And another. Between Oswald's gasps and around them, kissing his face while he breathes and his mouth when he pauses.

[Ed's restraint is a blessing, while he lies there, everything touching his skin feeling sharper and rougher than it is. He's not all there while Ed kisses his face, his sweat-damp forehead, sighing into Ed's lips when he finally catches them - and it's a while before he opens his eye halfway to look at him, taking him in. He holds his gaze with a soft, worn expression on his face, and he couldn't care less about anything else in this moment, about the come sticking to his skin or his nakedness, as he moves his hand to cradle Ed's cheek and kisses him with all the tenderness he's overflowing with.]

Riddler is gentle, but it's Ed who kisses back, slow and intimate and wanting to make sure Oswald's doing all right down there. He's used to ignoring his body and he's glad for it right now as he brushes the tips of their noses together, giving a small smile.

[Ed's breath ghosts his lip, tingling. He hums and nudges him with the tip of his nose.]

...thank you. [He whispers.]

Ed gives him a very light kiss and leans back to grope for Oswald's discarded underwear for a brief clean up.

[He dimly follows the movement of Ed's hand, unsure of what Ed has reached for until cloth grazes his skin, dabbing the slickened dusting of hair trailing his navel.]

It's fine... [He puts a gentle hand to Ed's arm, meaning to still it.] Doesn't matter...

[It would, in the morning, when he'd smell sweat and sex on his skin and embarrassment slapped him awake. But for now, with his head in a blissed-out place he'll hate to leave, all he wants is to touch and be touched and to keep the giddy magic alive, sleep be damned.

Ed has done him a favour, letting him have a taste of something strange and wonderful, and it seems only fair to let him find relief in the way he's surely been aching for. He wets his lips, watching him through his lashes.] Your turn, yes...?

Edited 2020-01-08 06:42 (UTC)

Ed will clean up later, after Oswald falls asleep again. And he will sleep again, honestly, Ed's surprised he hasn't already collapsed. Probably sheer stubborn keeping him going.

"It's not about turns," Riddler murmurs. "I wanted to. If you want to touch me, you're more than welcome. If you don't feel comfortable with that... well, I've never complained being left to my own devices. So long as I know I have your whole attention." He nibbles on Oswald's lower lip and grins again.

You know what I mean.

[He's fairly sure Ed does, from the smile crooking his mouth.] And I am sure you are well aware... that I couldn't give you any more attention if I wanted to.

Edited 2020-01-08 07:20 (UTC)

Riddler steals another kiss and sits back on his heels, completely unashamed of the fact that he's achingly hard and on display. "My point is: You don't have to touch me. You don't have to do a thing. I'm quite happy to just give you a show if that's more comfortable for you."

[Ed moves and the air in the room sweeps over him, cooling the saliva on his skin. His knee jitters.]

Let's put it this way: if you want me, then I am willing. Even curious. I may also be feeling a little dazed. [His gaze flutters to Ed's cock with wonder and uncertainty, daring to linger before he flushes, politely glancing aside. His throat clicks as he swallows.] But, if you have no intention of taking my offer, then I think I'm going to get dressed.

[And by dressed, he only means hitching up his pants and underwear, having neither the energy nor the patience to fuss with his shirt buttons.]

...And I don't even know what that means. [As far as he's concerned, Ed is already putting on a show through no effort of his own.]

Riddler grins and pounces back down on Oswald, kissing him thoroughly and squirming up close against him. His whole body roll grinds him against Oswald's body and he shivers at the sensation. "I will, definitely, take, your offer," he gasps between breaths and kisses.

[Sluggish and sated, he stays down without needing to be playfully wrestled into submission, shivering when they press together, skin on skin. Ed is long and heavy on top of him, filling his senses - Ed at his gasping mouth and Ed's voice in his ears and Ed rubbing up against him, his cock blood-hot, snagging his balls and his belly and riding the crease of his thigh. Oswald shifts, getting his legs out from underneath him. Forgetting himself and his deference to Ed's scars, he clasps at Ed's back, feeling the roll and glide of muscles under his fingers.]

Ah...

[Buried under kisses, he eventually gives up trying to keep up with Ed's ferocious enthusiasm and presents the bare column of his throat. Though soft now, a twanging of nerves suggests that finding his second wind before Ed has finished may not be out of question.]

Edited 2020-01-08 17:07 (UTC)

Riddler doesn't care about scars. Oswald can grab at him all he wants, cling and feel and touch and in fact he rather likes the way it feels. Ed wants to be uncertain, but it's hard to be anything but overwhelmed with want.

He kisses up along that pale column, gentler here than anywhere else he had been, careful not to mark or hurt, just lavish attention. His hips roll again, pushing along Oswald and drawing a low sound of want from somewhere deep in his chest.

[He melts under Ed's lips with a moan, lazily rocking his hips to the slide of Ed's flesh against his, like someone comfortable in their own skin would, anyone other than himself. Even naked, chests heaving and hands pawing, grasping for each other, so hopelessly needy, it's not fucking, not to him. That's too ugly a word. Too far removed from the tenderness of Ed's kisses or the warm, indescribable feeling that floods him when their lips brush together, filling every empty space inside him where pieces of him used to be, whole and unbroken. A feeling like he could trade his riches and ambition away, his whole empire away, just to be held a while longer, belonging somewhere.

Ed loves him.

Ed loves him.

He still hasn't heard the words he's listened for, but he has to believe that it's true.]

Ed has said it over and over, just never with those three words. He's saying it with the way he lets Oswald stroke his marred back and the way Ed fell asleep on his chest. He's saying it now, with soft, damp kisses and catching one of Oswald's hands to lace their fingers together again, pinning it to the bed, holding it under his weight as he moves.

"Oswald," he whispers into the next kiss. Doesn't stop moving, or kissing.

[He twines fingers with Ed, trusting enough in the hand pressing his down that he doesn't have to look at it, his face slack and absorbed with the peace Oswald has only known when he's asleep. From somewhere far away he can hear Ed calling, whispering his name like an incantation, a secret, the sound of it rolling through him, down, down, humming in his balls. He murmurs in answer, breaking a kiss to get a breath in. The fingers of his unpinned hand trail Ed's spine to the small of his back and up again, gentlest over the places where old hurts lie. There's enough he doesn't know about Ed's past. But what he does know has its teeth in him and won't let him go until he has done the only thing he can do: hunt for the man responsible and hope he's still alive to brought to justice, however Ed saw fit.

And what is that, if not an act of love?]

Edited 2020-01-09 20:45 (UTC)

Where the old hurts lie is where he can feel the least, scar tissue numbing the sensations if not the memories. He might not notice anyway, too consumed by other sensations, like their breaths intermingling and the softness of Oswald's skin under his lips. And the pleasant feel of his body where Riddler moves against him, slowing from his frantic need to shower affection and make Oswald feel wanted and instead enjoying the way Oswald's softer body feels against his own, all hard bones and angles.

[From time to time he tires and lies still, soft and loose-limbed and permissive. No talk; just the rasping of skin and huffing breaths in between. And while watching Ed for a moment, it's almost inevitable that he drifts in and out of wondering how much Ed is really getting out of this and out of him as he thrusts, his cock hard and seeking while Oswald's remains limp against his thigh.]

I'm sorry -- I'm not...

Riddler silences him with another kiss, pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking down at Oswald as he moves. "Just touch me," he breathes out. "However you want." Stroking his skin, holding his arms, whatever it is Oswald enjoyed before.

[It's a little dizzying how much free reign he's given readily, unasked; so much Ed to explore with clumsy fingers and kiss-stung lips and so much left to learn, inside and out. But there's none of his typical impatience or his desperate hunger for control in the hand he presses to Ed's side. All it is is a gentle urging on his part, an invitation for Ed to roll over and lie back and have his chance to bask in pleasure.] ...in that case...

[He glances from his hand to Ed's face, eyebrows going up.]

Riddler quirks an eyebrow at him and goes with the gentle push, rolling onto his back and placing his hands over his head, grasping the headboard.

Spread out, naked and flushed and aching hard, he manages to stay still and wait to see what Oswald does.

[He's not sure what he was expecting when Ed stretches out, long and lithe and effortless, like a pin up model. But as surely as Ed cuts an impressive figure even seen only in shades of grey, Oswald looks at him, has to look, his gaze sweeping over him with same awe as ever. He nods after a moment, sucking his lip. The erection gives him pause, but fog-brain and boyish determination trump nervousness and he swings his leg over Ed's waist with a graceless jiggle of cock, wondering if stripping down to their skin or their hungry give-and-take would ever feel as ordinary as eating breakfast together.

He immediately finds it hard to put any sort of pressure on his knees and eases himself down over Ed instead, resting on his elbows. Not the most comfortable for him, but a position that allows him to indulge that much more in the sweet little things he's been aching to do: thumbing Ed's hair back into place; kissing his forehead, the soft pulsing at his temple; even just looking at him, into his dark, inscrutable eyes, and letting the moment breathe.

Eventually, he wriggles his way down Ed's body, mouthing him slow, his neck, and collarbone.]

Edited 2020-01-10 09:09 (UTC)

Riddler is comfortable in his skin, turned on by Oswald's attention as much as anything else, wanting more.

Then Oswald is laying over him, close and stroking back his shower and sweat loosened hair, the small waves and curls that he usually fights back into place. Ed closes his eyes and leans into the little affections, the kisses and the stroking and then he looks up and smiles softly up at Oswald, gaze full of affection.

And Oswald slides down and Riddler moans, arching up into the damp lips.

[Oswald nuzzles him, skimming nose and lips between the sleepy, suckling kisses he lays over each of his ribs. It may be his turn to tease, but even belly up with his throat bared like it's begging for a knife, Ed wields a power beyond Oswald's understanding, keeping Oswald on him, drugged on his taste, on the smell of skin and the faint hint of soap.

The muscles around and between his shoulderblades are already cramping but he barely cares enough to roll his shoulders and neck before ducking his head again; it's really only when he backs up and Ed's cock brushes his ass that he flinches and stills, blinking like he's only just realized that it exists.

He looks to Ed, a question in his face.]

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