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

[The question spurs a gut-twinge of adrenaline.] Um, okay... [He huffs a laugh, his smile faltering.] Should I... be doing anything?

"No. You don't need to do anything." He leans forward slowly, telegraphing very clearly what he's intending. He's going to kiss Oswald, though being Ed, it's probably going to have more chaste designs than Riddler's kiss did.

[Relief has Oswald's smile returning, a brief flicker of emotion, as he edges in to meet Ed halfway. They're both small, wounded animals crawling out of their corners - and this wired to teeth, he's struck by a sudden fear they may only be one misstep away from disaster. Just a word, a sudden movement, and he'd wake from this dream, cold and hurting and alone in his cell. But even bigger and stronger than that fear, he realizes, is love and curiosity and the electric excitement of discovery that he can feel to the tingling tips of his fingers. He wants this; they want this.

Their faces are only inches apart when the driver takes a left and Oswald ends up gently sliding into Ed, bumping lips and chins, his hand landing over Ed's thigh for balance. It's another friendly hello of a kiss on Oswald's part, an easing in for the both of them that still has all the power to make him shiver and his palms go damp under his gloves.]

Edited 2019-12-21 08:25 (UTC)

Ed gives a nervous giggle at the way Oswald slides into him, bumping them together from face to hip and he drops his hand to Oswald's hip to steady him. "Sorry," he whispers, because it isn't meant to go quite like that, but then he closes the distance and gives Oswald an actual, soft, lingering kiss.

Unlike Riddler, Ed has some experience with kisses, though rarely with being in much control of them. There's less hunger, but still a world of tenderness and genuine desire in the gentle press and movement of lips.

[The kiss, and each one that follows, is everything he wants and needs it to be: reassuring and unrushed, charging him with the same heady magic as the night before. He keeps his forehead pressed to Ed's when he pulls away for breath, desperately wishing he could bottle this moment and keep it for dark day. Wishing both that they could be home already and that their ride could never end.]

You know... [he begins, between soft, panting breaths] for someone who claims not to know a great deal about love, you sure know how to make a fellow feel special.

[He keeps his hand where it is, well aware of the placement of Ed's.]

"Oswald... you are special. What else could make a diagnosed narcissist willing to die for you?" Ed gives him another kiss, lingering a little longer on this one and smothering down the fear that flutters in his chest like a rabbit's kick.

If his father saw him like this...

The next kiss is that bit hungrier, more want, less finesse. "He keeps scaring himself," Riddler murmurs. "About his first time kissing you."

[Their mouths melt together, Ed's harder, hotter, but not more than he can handle as his body wakes and a dizzying hunger of his own rises to meet Ed's. He answers him, not with teeth or tongue, but with purpose all the same, pouring everything he has in him to give. It's too soon, when they pull away - but it's feeling like all the time in the world wouldn't be enough.

He blinks at him, his pupil blown.]

Ah. A shame. And he was doing so well. [Vague disappointment bleeds into his voice.] Well, I am most definitely not going anywhere -- so I'll be around whenever he feels like dropping in.

[On a burning impulse, he almost asks if Ed has ever shrunk away from anyone else, or if it's only with him. But he bites it back, fighting to drive away the thought of the other people Ed has kissed, the others his hands have touched.

He licks his lips - the tartness of wine still clinging to them - and glances to the divider.]

I hate to ask, but are we there yet? Because I am very done with this seatbelt. And this wool coat.

[And sitting still.]

Riddler leans in, the tip of his nose brushing Oswald's cheek and cheekbone and pressing a soft kiss there. "Am I such a burden to have to live with instead of Ed? He never let himself feel anything towards men, it was too dangerous, so I felt it for him. Like the anger. And his contempt. The burning pride..."

Anything that Ed couldn't risk feeling, Riddler felt instead. And as Ed was slowly accepting feeling these things, he was also triggering his own anxiety and the only coping mechanism he had.

"About five minutes more."

[He unconsciously cants his head in a way that bares his throat like an offering, his eye fluttering shut.]

Burden? No. But I won't pretend it doesn't sting a little to feel like I...

[He cuts himself short, his lips pressed thin, wishing he had polished off the bottle of wine back at the restaurant and drowned every last one of his nagging, ugly thoughts.]

Nevermind. ...This is hardly the time to feel sorry for myself, not after a fine dinner and finer company. I've enjoyed myself, truly. [Clearing his throat softly.] And I would like it very much if this evening were to continue in a... similar fashion, with you... doing what it is you're doing.

"Like he can barely kiss you without retreating?" Riddler took the invitation to kiss Oswald's jaw, then his neck, down to his collar. "You're looking at it the wrong way around. No one else has been worth the trouble of trying to push past what his father did to him. He's never wanted anyone more than he's wanted to avoid his issues and anxiety."

He nips at the corner of Oswald's jaw, sharp and quick, just to sting, not to hurt or mark.

[Oswald trembles faintly, breath hitching under Ed's kisses; he digs his fingers into Ed's leg. But the pleasure washing over him isn't enough to slow his mind, much less stop it from turning as the pieces to a puzzle slide into place what seems far later than it should've. He blinks up at the ceiling of the car, seeing and not seeing.]

His father...

[He repeats, in a daze, as though it never occurred to him that Edward Nygma could have a father, or a mother, or a family, and that he had simply come into being one day.]

Edited 2019-12-23 06:01 (UTC)

Riddler hums obligingly and sucks on the spot he nipped, still careful not to leave a mark there.

He will leave marks. All kinds of marks. But not there and not right this moment.

The sucking is followed up by hints of teeth on an earlobe.

Aah-- [He tenses, flinching. But there's more than enough keeping him there, where Ed wants him to be, the almost vile slick and heat of Ed's mouth and every little suggestion of what it can do - and undo - gripping him by the balls and keeping him on edge.]

And I assume... [it's becoming a struggle getting the words out, his brow knitting with the effort, and he's not used to it] ...that daddy dearest has been taken care of?

Riddler pauses and leans back.

His gaze is cool, even with the colour high on his cheeks. "Oswald. You have a choice. We can make out some more. Or you can ask about Ed's family. One or the other, because one is not conducive to the other, especially if you want to keep the possibility of Ed coming back to play on the cards."

[It takes him a moment to understand what happened when things come to a screeching halt. He straightens, still a little blank-faced when he raises his hands in surrender.]

I was merely -- [He squeezes his eye shut.] ...Fine. No more talking. [It's harder to stop touching Ed, at this point, than to keep their momentum going.] Except that I'd like to point out that out that I wasn't the one who first brought it up.

[From Ed's reaction, he had prepared for the possibility of Ed sitting the rest of the night out as well, but this he decides to keep to himself.]

But I'm sorry for asking, okay? Conversation over. [He spreads his hands, expectant.] Can we continue now?

"I was explaining that his absence was nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him." Whether that him was Ed or Ed's father was unspecified, though either could equally apply.

But with the promise to leave it for now, Riddler softens again, leaning back in and pressing his nose under Oswald's jaw, followed by a kiss. "Because you, Mr Penguin, are very worth it."

[Hard as it is for him to shut up and let someone else have the last word, it helps that his restraint is swiftly rewarded. Somewhere in the back of his mind he's surprised by how easily he has gone drunk on Ed, warming up to a sort of touch that still feels strange to him, too guilty-good to seem like anything other than a fluke, at best.]

Go on... [He husks, half-serious. The soft skin under his jaw is already pinking.]

"We'll be home soon," Riddler whispers into damp skin, blowing over it to see what happens, how Oswald reacts. "Will you let me undo you a little bit, Oswald?" His fingers walk up to the knot of Oswald's tie, wriggling it slightly. "Would you let me leave my mark on you, even if only we know it's there?"

[He can't help the shiver that runs through him anymore than he can help the appreciative hums and the little noises he makes low in his throat, all of him braced in restless anticipation. But he's not all passive and boneless, and the spell he's under breaks just enough for him to rest a hand over Ed's to still those wandering fingers. At least for now.]

...Let's not get too carried away.

[He says it with a vaguely challenging half-smirk. Whether he simply means in the car or for the night goes unexplained.]

You know as well as I that you have already left an indelible mark on me. You and Ed... in several senses. [He wets his lips, his tongue sticking to them.] Congratulations.

Riddler murred with playful disappointment, but put a bit of space between them as they pulled into the driveway up to the manor.

"But I want to leave much nicer marks on you, Oswald." His nose wrinkles briefly and he glances away and then back with a softer gaze. "Ignore him. I think he'd cover us head to toe in tattoos if he thought he could get away with it. You as well. He's possessive."

[His eyebrows lift, pushing wrinkles up his forehead.]

...Tattoos?

[Oswald repeats, flatly. He scoffs off the remark, but not before his face has given him away, a look of horror flashing in his eye. But Riddler wouldn't hurt him, not unless seeking retaliation; he wants to believe that, he really does, though he's understanding that some part of him that never quite healed right would always stay on high alert, prepared to suspect the worst of anyone and anything and just waiting to be proven right.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, unconsciously straightening his shirt collar on the way out. His smile tightens.]

I'll pass, thanks. [Which really is the kindest, briefest way he can think of phrasing disapproval along the lines of, 'I'd rather trap my hand in a door several times over than agree to that'. His good mood still holds, for now.] ...Marriage, on the other hand? Still on the table. And if it happens, you'll only be getting one ring from me, so you're just going to have to learn to share.

[He might only be teasing, of course - and it's easy to tease when nothing feels like it's really happening after being kissed in the back of the car, as if it's routine for them. Only the ache in his knee and ankle as he limps up the long stretch of driveway helps ground him in reality for moments at a time.]

Ed shrugs a little helplessly. He doesn't know why Riddler is how he is, not about these things. He remembers pen marks and ink over his skin and pushes the thoughts away, not wanting to remember.

"... really? About the marriage, I mean. It seems to have a different flavour to it now. Not just a business proposal." Ed gets out and hurries to get to Oswald's side, offering his arm as support. "Is that- I mean, should we really discuss this now? If we still want to get married?"

[He takes Ed's arm, wishing he had brought his cane with him to dinner.] Oh, there will be plenty of time in the future to sit down and give it the careful consideration it is due. It is kind of a big deal, after all. As for right now... I think I might need to sit down a minute.

[His heart is still racing wildly, as though he had jumped from a building and stuck a landing, unhurt.]

Edited 2019-12-25 08:18 (UTC)

"Of course." Ed can be a perfect gentleman, helping Oswald to the door and getting it unlocked for them before ushering him in. "Go sit down, get that ankle up while I lock everything and check security."

Thank you, friend; don't be too long now.

[He sees Ed off with a shoulder pat and a smile, sliding out of his coat and shoes and making his way to the study where a fire still burns at the hearth, bathing the room and everything in it in a soft, inviting glow. Hanging his tailcoat on the back of a chair, he pours himself some scotch in the hopes of smoothing out his nerves, two burning gulps already in him by the time he has sank into one of the plush Victorian chaise-lounges and put his leg up. It's a long wait for Ed's return. Or at least, it feels that way while he jiggles his knee - the good one, of course - and the knot in his belly pulls tighter by the second, his eye fixed on the door.]

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also, I apologize for that mistake-riddled tag a few tags ago >> it BURNS.

I totally didn't notice, I promise

okiedoke!

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