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.

Comments

[hobblepot]

[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...

[theansweris]

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.

[hobblepot]

[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.]

[theansweris]

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.

[hobblepot]

[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.]

[theansweris]

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.

[hobblepot]

[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.]

[theansweris]

Riddler is not watching. His eyes are closed and he's focused on trying to breathe evenly and trying to not lose himself in too many things at once. He feels when Oswald bumps against him and he gives an audible gasp and moan.

Then looks down when Oswald pauses. He tilts his head slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with want, one eyebrow raised in return question.

[hobblepot]

[He presses his lips together, half-glancing over his shoulder. This is what Ed wants, he tells himself. What he needs. And to Oswald, it's the answer to a question he never thought to ask before tonight. But he's never felt a fever-heat like this, either, simmering under his skin, or the bold, fierce desire to share everything there is to share until they've all fucked out, sluggish and exhausted. Lying on top of Ed, his head spinning even while at his stillest, nothing seems too unthinkable, too impossible.

He shakes his head.]

...To hell with it.

[He shrugs a shoulder, giving a chuckle, a helpless, crooked little smile.] I mean, we've made it this far, didn't we?

[theansweris]

What Ed wants and needs are not the same, but both of them are defined by 'whatever Oswald is comfortable with'.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Riddler admits. "I told you. Only what you're comfortable with."

[hobblepot]

And I am telling you, Ed, that I am giving you permission to take me... [He searches Ed's face a moment, a look of childish hurt knitting his brow.] ...but I'm just making a fool of myself, aren't I?

[He doesn't wait for the answer and gently rolls off him, just like that, hiding his face as he lies back. Making its return is a very familiar urge to disappear through the floor.]

I'm sorry. [He says from behind his hands, wincing.] I... had assumed we were on the same page.

[theansweris]

"Oh." They were not on the same page. They were barely in the same book. "Oswald, no, don't-"

It's Ed who presses close, curling around Oswald's back and tugging him into his arms. Yes, it does happen to press his aching cock up against those lovely, soft buttocks, but he doesn't do anything more. "You're not ready for that. Neither are we. Don't have the patience right now, to make it good." He might not have done that yet, but he knows that it takes time, preparation, supplies they don't have on hand.

"Don't apologise. You've done nothing to apologise for."

[hobblepot]

[He twitches, a hitch in his breath as arms slide around him and Ed pulls himself in, pressed to his back. He goes very still as he listens, wishing Ed's effort to reassure him could soothe the sting of embarrassment. It shouldn't be Ed doing the thinking for the both of them; Oswald isn't really sure how he can when he's the one who has been hard and wanting for long enough.]

...I don't know what's gotten into me. [He's slow to soften into Ed's chest, very aware of his cock nestled against him though he understands now that penetration can't or won't be as spontaneous an event as he thought it might be.] I wanted to help.

[He adds, lamely. While not untrue, it's only part of an explanation he feels the need to offer.]

[theansweris]

"Whatever it is, it won't be us tonight," Riddler teases with a small nibble on Oswald's ear. "I'm sorry, ignore him." The nibble is followed with a kiss. "We won't risk hurting you. Not with this. Not like this." His hands rub over Oswald's chest and belly, trying to be soothing, even if he's not very familiar with how to actually be soothing.

[hobblepot]

[The kiss is vaguely comforting, shivery-hot on the shell of his ear. But it's the feeling of nipping teeth that lingers on his nerves the longest.

He's not sure where the risk Ed is talking about lies when he doesn't at all resemble the company Oswald has kept for the last eight months, but he accepts what he's told, trusting Ed will help him understand some other time, should the desire resurface.

He shivers when Ed's touch passes over places where bullets had punched through him, years apart, his stomach sharply sucking in under his fingers. He slides his hands from his face and catches Ed's lightly, clasping it. Less to stop him and more to acknowledge what he's trying to do. To thank him.

The question of what they do from here weighs heavy on him in the silence.]

...I wouldn't mind lending you a hand and returning the favour. If... that is what you wanted, of course. [He muses aloud, staring at nothing in particular while stroking him with his thumb.] At this point, however, I think we can both agree that it's long overdue.

[theansweris]

A lack of desire is not the problem. Too much desire for this moment. He squeezes Oswald firmer, scolding himself for still wanting, for not being able to suppress that want, especially with Oswald naked against him. Even though he needs to focus on him.

"I would love if you were to touch me. In any manner you want." But there's a twitch and throb of want through his cock that he's sore Oswald must feel. "Please," he adds in a whisper.

sorry, I meant os' desire

[hobblepot]

[There's not much he can't feel, with Ed this close - and the little bit of Penguin in him not all buried under first-time jitters and sensory overload, observing and absorbing, quivers with dark satisfaction at the thought of reducing Ed to a trembling wreck with the right words and the right touches, being watched with desperate, fuck me eyes while holding his pleasure hostage. But there's none of that daring or mischief in Oswald when he rolls over in Ed's arms to face him, wrapping his fingers around his cock after some consideration.

He keeps a firm, comfortable grip, pumping slowly. There's power in having Ed trapped in his fist like this, but all that matters to him here and now is working the frantic energy out of Ed's system.]

There is a bottle of unscented lotion behind you, if you'd like. [He frowns, not looking up.] In the bottom drawer.

[theansweris]

Ed makes a small sound. It's helpless and needy and begging without being much of a noise at all and he pushes up against it before he can make himself be still and not take.

"No. This, this is good." He's damp and slick enough that it's not uncomfortable. He shifts slightly, nosing for a kiss from Oswald. "More. Please."

[hobblepot]

[Oswald wordlessly obliges, catching wetness on the web of his thumb while his hand rides up and down, faster and harder, knuckles brushing Ed's abdomen. It's a fairly straightforward, easy way to please; all Ed really needs is consistency. But he's content to give it all his focus until Ed reminds him that he can multitask, needing him in other ways. He clips Ed's nose with his own as he lifts his head, dreamily meeting his gaze before leaning to press a kiss to his lips. Still no teeth or tongue - just a slow-burn of a kiss while his hand moves between them.]

[theansweris]

They've been riding the edge for quite a while and now that Oswald's there, gripping and stroking it's going to be enough. He presses closer, into the kiss and the pressure and comfort of Oswald's body and is as good as silent when he comes, eyes closed and gasping against Oswald's lips.

[hobblepot]

[In a different frame of mind, he'd have easily been shocked and put off at having fresh come staining his skin, shaking out his hand and looking for the nearest tissue to wipe himself off on. But the circumstances are far from ordinary, and as Ed settles and they breathe against each other, relaxing, he feels an unexpected flicker of pride for having had a part in Ed's release.

No more stroking now. He opens his hand and lets it rest, quietly basking in the heat of their bodies.

Wiping themselves off could happen in a moment.]

Better? [He murmurs, placing a kiss over the dimple of Ed's chin.]

[theansweris]

Had Oswald tried to keep touching, it would've been too much, uncomfortably so, but he just rests in against them and they... feel quiet. Feel less like 'us' and more like 'me' for a little while.

He hums softly in agreement, nodding slightly and turning blindly for another kiss. He isn't ready to think about sleep, but the peace and relaxation is nice.

[hobblepot]

[He can't say no to Ed like this or the warm, welcoming softness of his lips, and whether Ed has or hasn't the energy to reciprocate doesn't matter to him. He's simply grateful having someone to share his feelings with, a port in the storm. At last.

He doesn't wait for Ed to offer a place for him in his arms and eventually shifts lower to lean his head into Ed's chest, slinging an arm around him. Ed's heart thumps away against his ear, not sounding any different than it ever has. But he imagines it must feel different, the way his own heart aches with that strange, sweet sort of pain again - a good pain.

He closes his eye.]

...You're a good man, Ed. [He mumbles into his skin.]

[theansweris]

This is something neither of them are familiar with. Or any of them, maybe. Ed brings a hand up to stroke Oswald's hair back and then just rest protectively on his neck, hand warm and heavy with relaxation.

He's not a good man. He never has been. But wants to be good for Oswald. He cuddles him close, eyes closed and listening to the sounds of the manor around them.

"Go to sleep, Oswald. I've got you."

[hobblepot]

[Emotionally, he's buzzing, in a mood to talk and talk until dawn breaks and the first weak, pale shaft of light finds the gap in the curtains. But his body is loose and heavy, the rise and fall of his side already slowing, deepening. Pawing around for their wrinkled blanket, he finds it and yanks it up over them, as much for modesty as for warmth. It's the last thing he manages to do before letting go, drifting off in the safety of Ed's embrace with a mumble and the odd twitch.]