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

[theansweris]

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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[theansweris]

"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?"

[hobblepot]

[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.

[theansweris]

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."

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

[hobblepot]

[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.]

I totally didn't notice, I promise

[theansweris]

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?"

okiedoke!

[hobblepot]

[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.]

[theansweris]

"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."

[hobblepot]

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.]

[theansweris]

It's not a long wait. Ed hangs up his coat, checks the locks, checks in with the head of night patrols and goes to the study.

He stands at the door for a moment, struck all over again by how beautiful Oswald is. Maybe other people didn't see it, but to Ed, there's something hypnotic about him, so much power and violence and sharpness in such a pale, fragile seeming form. His skin looked like the faintest touch would bruise it, but Ed had seen the scars of what he had survived.

"You're so perfect," he hears himself breathe out.

[hobblepot]

[Oswald licks his lips and reaches to set his glass aside, only meaning to drink enough to take the edge off, not to blunt his senses. When he looks up, he finds Ed in the doorway, watching him in a way that stops the breath in his throat. As if they're the last two people in the whole world. And Ed stays there, for long enough that Oswald wonders if he should be concerned until he hears him speak, just barely. Soft words that run him through and stuns him into silence.

He swallows, heating his throat click. His eye burns.

In a city full of prettier faces and more handsome men, men without hawkish noses and lumpy ankles and feet that stick out at odd angles, dragging as they move, Ed had chosen him. Settled for him, his demons hiss, because Ed has no one and nothing else. But in this moment, they've gone so quiet for the first time since yesterday that they're barely heard over the sound of Ed's voice.]

...no one's ever told me that. [He answers in an equally hushed tone.

No one other than mother, anyway.]

[theansweris]

Ed's lips barely quirk in a smile, because he's glad in a way, that he's seen what no one else does (and isn't that so often the way for him?) and in another way, he wants to burn the city to the ground for not recognising the perfection of Oswald.

"Then they were all blind idiots." He pushes away from the door frame and comes closer. He doesn't sit, not uninvited, not when he wants to perch on the side of the lounge, near Oswald.

[hobblepot]

[He says nothing for a while but offers a vaguely strained, bittersweet smile in thanks, following Ed with his eye.] Please, sit. All this hovering around is making me nervous.

[While not entirely true, he hopes it'll welcome Ed to relax if scooting over a little doesn't do the trick.]

[theansweris]

Ed comes close enough to sit, leaning close to Oswald, cheeks slightly pink. "May I kiss you again?"

[hobblepot]

[He rolls his eye goodnaturedly, chuckling.] ...I thought you'd never ask!

[And for good reason - which is why he fights to keep still, encouraging Ed to take the initiative and set a pace he's comfortable with. He swings his leg off the ottoman, turning to better face him.]

You don't have to keep doing that, by the way, under my own roof. I appreciate the consideration, but at this point I'm fairly confident you're not about to pounce on me with reckless abandon.

[theansweris]

"So is that blanket permission to kiss you when we're at home?" Ed shifts closer, then encourages Oswald to lift his bad leg and drape it over his own lap, keeping it elevated and the pressure off while not sacrificing being close.

[hobblepot]

[Nodding, with an almost roguish curve of his lips:]

Pretty much, yes.

[He feels a flush crawl up his neck as he blinks at Ed's lap and back at him, not nearly drunk or aroused enough to consider propping himself up on him. Though he's coming up short, trying to figure out how best to position himself in a way that makes it easy for them and won't become physically uncomfortable within a few minutes. There is the option of lying down, but. Well.] So...

[theansweris]

Ed tucks himself leaning on one hand, letting Oswald settle however he was most comfortable before closing the distance and kissing him again, soft and warm on the mouth.

[hobblepot]

[In the end, he stays where he is, with one leg folded and the other stretched out over the edge of the chaise-lounge, daring to sweep his hand up Ed's sleeve and over the curve of his shoulder to rest there while they take and taste each other, kisses broken and tenderly relaid with the same patience he has devoted to the best of his plans. He wants Ed to know how much he is loved, to be flooded with it, top to bottom, so powerfully that he'd never question it again - and that Ed is still there, with him, assures him that he must be doing something right.]

...are you happy? [He whispers against Ed's lips between kisses, a needful, child-like smallness to his voice.]

[theansweris]

Ed leans and kisses and this time he manages to quiet his mind before he loses it, because he wants this. He wants Oswald to know that despite how broken and damaged and messed up he is, he still wants this, with Oswald.

Is he happy?

"Yes." More than he's ever known before, so yes, he's happy. He kisses Oswald again. "Even when I'm scared with you, I'm still happy because I'm with you."

[hobblepot]

[He laughs a soft, hiccupping laugh, a laugh that breaks in his throat, gratefully petting Ed's arm. It means everything, hearing Ed say it - and pressing his lips to Ed's again, he seeks the same yes in it he hopes to find forever and always, the same yes that feeds him and his starved little heart with a rare excitement he somehow feels too young and too old for.

His tie and collar have gone tight around his neck, and he has to pause while peppering kisses along Ed's jaw to wrestle with them, the skin of his cheek burning against Ed's.]

[theansweris]

Ed catches the movement and helps Oswald, leaning on one hand, turning into the kisses, into the brush of their cheeks together (and Oswald's skin is softer than his own, it's soft and nice). He tries to help, to get things loosened and he wants to see more of Oswald's skin.

Once, he would've flinched and panicked at having his hand near Oswald's throat but the fear is gone. Oswald would no more let Ed hurt him as let him hurt Martín.

[hobblepot]

[They graze knuckles and fingers and it's a moment before he finally lifts his hand away, stilling. And breath bitten back, he lets it happen, lets Ed loosen his tie and slide it, hissing, from around his neck, half-waiting for a sharp twisting, a sudden choking off of air. But the topmost button of his wing-tipped shirt pops open instead.

It's not until a log snaps in the fire, jerking him out of something approaching a trance, that he realizes he's shaking faintly. Though if he were afraid, a real, animal fear for his own life, he knows he wouldn't be here. Wouldn't be itching a sly, anxious little itch for the next moment to come, heat pooling between his legs.]

[theansweris]

Ed watches Oswald carefully, aware of the trembling and hoping it's reflex, not fear (Oswald doesn't really know fear, Oswald knows fury and rage and charges at fear with an iron poker or a cheese knife, teeth bared to rip out its throat if he has to) that makes him tremble. He leans back a little to check his expression, that this is wanted still. "Okay?" His voice is soft and husky.

[hobblepot]

Yes. [Comes a breathless answer.

A beat passes and he opens his eye as he draws back, staring through Ed. His gaze sharpens after a few blinks.] ...Had I wanted you to stop, this would be over in a heartbeat.

[He points out, not unkindly; it's simply a fact as any other. Grass is green, Gotham is grey, and Oswald Cobblepot is a tightly coiled spring ready to jump - down anyone's throat - at the slightest provocation.]

[theansweris]

It makes Ed smile, always pleased by Oswald's willingness to resort to violence. He leans in, nose brushing the underside of Oswald's jaw and then twisting a little to press a soft kiss to his neck, supplicating and submissive.

It's not how Riddler would kiss. Neither would quite kiss like the next one, hand coming up to cradle the other side of Oswald's face and lips coming back to meet his, slow and pressing slightly deeper. But they both have an agreement for the moment. Oswald is more important, this is more important.