"Don't tell me you're upset." Oswald had a warped idea of what was funny and so far, that hadn't changed. Seven girls, all of which he felt got too close to Edward, had been punished so far. From the waitress who smiled at him once to the last two assistance he had that mysteriously 'left town'. Whoops.
"Oh come on, you appreciate a good murder as much as I do! You've killed people I like as well. Well, not so much like, but you have. And we've never been caught!"
"I'm not upset about you killing, Oswald. I'm not a big fan of you using your idea of what protecting me means as a way to vent your petty jealousy." What a manchild, as he always told him. Edward was back to glaring and to thinking about what to do, so he got up, looking over his shoulder behind him. His vision wasn't that bad, he could see the letter opener. Good enough, that ought to work.
"You're upset regardless. I have no idea why. Look, Edward, there are people in your life that you didn't even miss when I got rid of them, you never even saw the total. You didn't miss them then, why care now?" It almost seemed pointless to care when they both knew Edward didn't. As far as he was concerned, he did nothing wrong. But there was Edward, glaring at him, it didn't feel great. With a reluctant sigh, he rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "What can I do to make you smile, my dear Edward?"
"I don't know," Edward said simply, then he suddenly reached behind himself and a moment later Oswald had a knife against his throat and was pinned in his chair with Edward's knee against his chest while he gripped his hair with his free hand, tight enough to force his head back, making that throat so much easier to threaten. "Maybe seeing you bleed would do the trick."
"Oh, I see, this is how it is." He had no idea if Edward was seriously going to hurt him or if this was a game but either way, he was already so ridiculously turned on. So savage, so flippant. It did things for him. His kneejerk panic came out as a giddy laugh, wriggling back in his chair. "I only bleed for you." He licked his lips and smirked playfully. "Go on then - do it."
"That's just a lie, Oswald. You're such a pain slut." What? It was true. Oswald came home bleeding every other day it seemed like. Beaten up or stabbed or shot or who knew what way he'd find to get himself into trouble next. Now, there would be a reason to be jealous.
Edward moved the letter opener so he could use it to rip and slice through Oswald's shirt, until it simply hung in shreds off him. So debauched, such an inviting sight. "You want to bleed for me, don't you?"
"I have a face people just want to hit. I kind of think at some point, it's not me, it's the world." Which was very true. Sometimes he was into it, he provoked it, he wanted it. Sometimes everyone just wanted to hurt him and that kind of sucked. Last time Jim Gordon attacked him? Kind of hot. That time Maroni tried to torture him? Sucked. Big time.
He looked down at the shirt Edward had just sliced and pulled a face, looking back up at him in horror. "This was an expensive shirt!" Kinky or not, that stood to reason. He had to protest. "You could ask a little nicer."
"You enjoy it, Oswald. That's on you." Edward used the tip of the letter opener to caress Oswald's throat, tilting his head as he stood up so he could move to straddle him on the chair, his hand still in his hair, making sure to hold his head in place none too gentle. "All of your shirts are expensive, so you bring that on yourself. Further, I don't plan on asking nicer. I plan on taking what I want without asking. What are you going to do about it?"
"I have money and good taste, you can't punish me for that." He certainly knew how to dress himself, always aiming for the best. Edward was fortunately much better these days. Not that he'd ever been bad, he had a wonderful sense of style but not enough money. He did now. He smirked as he leaned back, tilting his head and letting his neck be exposed to the gentle cut from the letter opener. "What am I going to do about it? Good question. There's a lot I could do, the question is more - what do I want to do?" The answer? He licked his lips and met Edward's eyes as he shifted in his seat, rubbing against him ever so slight. Seduction seemed like a good answer. He wanted to do that.
"Someone who doesn't like to bleed doesn't have a letter opener this sharp." At least not while also having such a tendency to make people want to hurt him as Oswald did. Although for now all that happened was Edward leaning down to catch his mouth in a kiss while the letter opener stayed against his throat, just to ensure he wouldn't forget who was in charge here.
"People try to kill me. A lot. I think it's handy to make everything in the room as deadly as possible so I stand a chance." They usually came with weapons, ready to get him and Oswald had to think on his feet. And that was what led to sharper items and heavier ornaments. He gave into the kiss so easily, as he always did, keeping himself a safe enough distances from the letter opener against his throat. Edward played the best games with him.
"That is true, there are a lot of dangerous things in this room, aren't there?" Edward looked around, the letter opener teasing down over Oswald's collarbone to his sternum, the pressure enough to leave red streaks but not actually split skin. He had an idea or hundred and he looked over his shoulder at the desk.
Then he suddenly jerked Oswald out of the chair, so he yank him up to his feet and then bodily throw him onto the desk. He pinned him there, rather enjoying his superior strength as he looked down at the man with a cocky smirk, his arm against his chest to keep him down, holding the by now heated metal against his throat once more, the other hand still in his hair.
"Let's see how handy they come in for me."
That said he lifted the letter opener above his head with a wicked expression and brought it down hard, missing Oswald's throat by just an inch, but ramming it into the wood. He wasted no time, already opening a drawer.
Lots of dangerous things indeed. Sometimes a little too many. The whole mansion was full of weapons, items they could use to hurt people, and each other, there was really a lot they could do with what was there. It did make playing a lot more exciting. He watched Edward carefully, trying to predict what move he'd make next. It was all about his mood and just how he felt that would determine what would happen next.
He judged wrong. Not entirely uncommon, it happened often. He assumed Edward was going to fuck him right here in the chair and suddenly, he was being thrown across the desk instead. He yelped in surprise and clambered further along the desk to get more purchase on it, hoping nothing of value would get broke. Like he said, he had expensive taste.
"Now, friend, you're just showing off. It's not going to be that easy!" Oswald never liked to make it easy, Edward was stronger but Oswald was slippery. He made a move to slide free, one leg kicking out at Edward's just to make it more of a challenge. That was where the fun lied, of course.
He did, however, hold entirely still as the knife slammed into the wood just inches away from him, his breathing halting as he looked at Edward with wide eyes. He stopped dead in that moment. Oh, he meant business. Oswald laughed nervously, eyes looking at where the letter opened was embedded. Shit.
"That's right." Oh, he did love the sound of that nervous laugh, no wonder it also tore a chuckle out of him, perhaps just slightly on the crazed side. He looked at the letter opener already in the desk and gave it a twist, just so it would lean to the side a little, right above Oswald's throat. His smile only grew as he felt around in the drawer, hands closing around another letter opener. Who needed more than one?
No matter. He held it up and leaned in, kissing Oswald, the metal of the first letter opener caught between them. The moment he moved back, he lifted his hand further and then, with a loud thud, he brought the other letter opener down, making sure the two crossed right above Oswald's throat, just a way to make sure he'd not get quite that slippery.
"If it's not going to be easy, then that's because I'll make it hard on you." That said he already snatched up Oswald's hands in his, another hungry kiss while he moved his arms above his head, pressing them down against the polished wood of the desk.
"This desk is very expensive too, you know?" Oswald said it breathlessly as he squirmed, fortunately to occupied to really consider how much it was going to cost to fix that desk. He didn't care right now, he didn't care about anything but Edward and what he was going to do next with that awfully sharp letter opener. He couldn't move much, sitting up wasn't something he could do either, all he could do was watch Edward.
Yes, he could struggle still, he still caught the side of Edward's shin with his foot as hard as he could but that didn't mean he had much wiggle room to do anything.
"You're going to pay for this." Whatever Edward wanted to think of that as was up to him but really, he could have meant the desk, the shirt or what he was doing to Oswald. All seemed possible.
"Am I? How interesting." Edward smiled and stood up, one hand holding Oswald's hands down as he walked around the desk, tugging his own tie free. He didn't waste any time, once he was around the desk, using the tie - expensive silk that Oswald had bought for him now ruined, of course - to bind Oswald's wrists together, crossed and tight, because he knew how slippery the man could be.
It was a fun game now, to spot another letter opener still on the desk. He'd have to find something else to use if he continued with his, to his knowledge that was the last letter opener in the room. No matter, there were plenty of other things around that he could use.
He let go of Oswald's bound hands, after positioning them high enough above his head to force him to stretch his arms. "I'd recommend you hold very still." Said while he lifted the letter opener and then - bang - it came down again, between Oswald's arms, piercing the tie that bound him, making sure he couldn't move his hands an inch.
Edward had to laugh again, moving a few steps back only to run them so he could jump on the desk. There he stood, one foot on either of Oswald's sides, looking down at him. His legs might still be free, but he was still bent backwards over his desk, unable to move much. The position couldn't be very comfortable, but it did look ever so vulnerable. "Behold the King of Gotham, ladies and gentlemen!"
He knelt down on one knee, allowing him to ruffle Oswald's hair. "How are you feeling, my little bird?"
"That tie was a gift." And there Edward was, ruining it. Ruining everything. They had discussed more than once about not ruining everything they owned every time they had rough sex and yet, his desk how had two holes in it and a shirt and tie, and probably his pants soon, were ruined. He huffed and held his chin up high, trying to keep some measure of dignity as he spread his arms as directed. It pulled uncomfortably against him, the way his muscles had to strain ever so slightly to stay in their position. Not comfortable but not entirely beyond him.
"What?" Wait, where did he get that other letter opener? He seriously needed to cut back how many of those he had. "Wait, wait, wait! No!" Oswald yelped in fear as he closed his eyes tight and prayed that he didn't accidentally slice a finger off or impale him. Then again, knowing how vicious Edward could get sometimes, it wasn't beyond the realm that he could have been aiming for that. The loud bang confirmed it went through the desk and Oswald inhaled sharply, trying to tilt his head back to see if there was any damage. He couldn't see. It felt okay?
He took a few short rapid breaths as he looked at Edward in disbelief. Good lord, he could have lost a digit. Oh yes. There was a reason he liked Edward. Even when playing safe and in good humour, it was dangerous.
With a frustrated huff, he tried to dislodge his binding from the knife but the more he moved, the more he caught his neck and it wasn't worth it. He slumped back and looked at Edward, his expression somewhat pissy. Mostly because he was trembling slightly from the shock of the earlier stabbing of his desk and the tie.
"Edward, dear, I'm going to get you back for this." There was a cocky little smile, laughing with an edge of nervousness, trying to seem more smug than he was in this moment. Rendered helpless. Unable to move. "Don't think I won't. The king always gets what he wants."
"I believe you're already getting exactly what you want." Edward mostly just seemed amused and if there wasn't that edge of something else to his voice, it would have been a normal conversation.
Except for how he'd impaled his boyfriend to his own desk with three leather openers and was kneeling over him, that was. "What you should concern yourself with at the moment is what I want, don't you think? Because I don't think you have any more leather openers, but isn't there a gun in that one drawer? Right next to the knife?"
What? The gun? Oswald nervously let his eyes flicker towards where the desk drawer was. No, no way, he was joking, right? He wouldn't actually start using bullets, would he? That was insane, that was a bit much, that was -- that was pretty much Edward's style, actually. He gulped and gave Edward a pleading look. No, he didn't think he'd use them but he was always prepared just in case and always happy to play the role he was cast in.
"Now, now, don't be so hasty to play around with weapons. You really don't have to do that." He swallowed hard and shrank back into the desk, trying to look the picture of submission. Yes, he was a good actor these days. "I'll be good."
"You think I don't know you well enough to tell when you mean it?" Edward's smile was gentle, in a slightly cruel way. He managed the contrast quite well, actually. He cupped Oswald's face with his hand, gentle there too. So was the kiss he gave him when he leaned down. Then he let go, so he could pull the drawer open, reaching behind himself to feel around inside it. "What will I find there, I wonder."
It wasn't that surprising that he ended up with the gun in his hand, inspecting it slowly as he turned it around in front of him. With a slow smile he pulled the safety back, then he stretched his arm out, pointing the barrel right against Oswald's head. He had a finger on the trigger as he moved the gun along his face, pressing it right against the cheek he had held just moments earlier.
"I do mean it! You know I do." He didn't. He never did. Not really. Not until it got out of hand did he ever start to freak out like that. He looked up at Edward and he tried to follow him with his limited line of vision. He knew where this was going and it scared him, he had no idea why, he trusted Edward but there was always something, a strange glimmer of deviousness that hid behind those eyes and left him always unsure where things could go with him. Just how safe he was. He did strangle the last love of his life.
Still, the thought, the fear, the whole vibe Edward had was not only terrifying. It was greatly arousing. So powerful, so unafraid and uncompromising. Always in control. He felt the barrel press into his cheek and he closed his eyes tight, almost afraid to breath too hard and provoke him.
"Don't do it." He swallowed hard and forced himself to take even steady breaths. "You know I'm worth more to you alive than dead. You'd never do it." Because he loved him. Because he was important. That was all he needed from Edward, the feeling that he mattered.
Edward leaned down, careful to avoid the letter openers but still able to kiss Oswald, kiss him while he pressed a gun against his head, laughing as he leaned their foreheads together. He whispered against his lips, intimate like everything about this. "My little bird." He kissed him again, perhaps a bit more heated, an edge of despair to it. "Love of my life. What would I be without you?"
"Without me? Still in the crazy house, probably." Edward had been so unfortunate to be caught aiming a little too high and going a little too big, he was lucky now he had the position he did. It was stable. Safer. He stood more of a chance, there was no denying it. He kissed him back almost desperately, wishing he could reach out and touch him, to run his fingers through his hair. "My dear Ed, you are truly all I want in life."
"But you don't believe that you're all I want." No, that topic wasn't forgotten just yet. "You don't have faith in me. You think I need you to protect me." Edward pulled himself up, one hand on the desk, the other aiming the gun right at Oswald's face. "Do I need your protection, my little bird?"
"I trust you, I don't trust them. I know what women are like. They go for you, no matter if you say no. You, my friend, my love, you could get hurt." That was a real fear he had, he wasn't lying there because he'd been there. Oswald's life was a very confusing mess and he didn't grasp that other people had a considerably more normal time. Still, it wasn't entirely the reason. When it came down to it, complex or not, he was a very petty and jealous little manchild. He wanted all of Ed's attention always. "No, you certainly don't but sometimes you need it."
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"Oh come on, you appreciate a good murder as much as I do! You've killed people I like as well. Well, not so much like, but you have. And we've never been caught!"
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Edward moved the letter opener so he could use it to rip and slice through Oswald's shirt, until it simply hung in shreds off him. So debauched, such an inviting sight. "You want to bleed for me, don't you?"
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He looked down at the shirt Edward had just sliced and pulled a face, looking back up at him in horror. "This was an expensive shirt!" Kinky or not, that stood to reason. He had to protest. "You could ask a little nicer."
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Then he suddenly jerked Oswald out of the chair, so he yank him up to his feet and then bodily throw him onto the desk. He pinned him there, rather enjoying his superior strength as he looked down at the man with a cocky smirk, his arm against his chest to keep him down, holding the by now heated metal against his throat once more, the other hand still in his hair.
"Let's see how handy they come in for me."
That said he lifted the letter opener above his head with a wicked expression and brought it down hard, missing Oswald's throat by just an inch, but ramming it into the wood. He wasted no time, already opening a drawer.
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He judged wrong. Not entirely uncommon, it happened often. He assumed Edward was going to fuck him right here in the chair and suddenly, he was being thrown across the desk instead. He yelped in surprise and clambered further along the desk to get more purchase on it, hoping nothing of value would get broke. Like he said, he had expensive taste.
"Now, friend, you're just showing off. It's not going to be that easy!" Oswald never liked to make it easy, Edward was stronger but Oswald was slippery. He made a move to slide free, one leg kicking out at Edward's just to make it more of a challenge. That was where the fun lied, of course.
He did, however, hold entirely still as the knife slammed into the wood just inches away from him, his breathing halting as he looked at Edward with wide eyes. He stopped dead in that moment. Oh, he meant business. Oswald laughed nervously, eyes looking at where the letter opened was embedded. Shit.
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No matter. He held it up and leaned in, kissing Oswald, the metal of the first letter opener caught between them. The moment he moved back, he lifted his hand further and then, with a loud thud, he brought the other letter opener down, making sure the two crossed right above Oswald's throat, just a way to make sure he'd not get quite that slippery.
"If it's not going to be easy, then that's because I'll make it hard on you." That said he already snatched up Oswald's hands in his, another hungry kiss while he moved his arms above his head, pressing them down against the polished wood of the desk.
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Yes, he could struggle still, he still caught the side of Edward's shin with his foot as hard as he could but that didn't mean he had much wiggle room to do anything.
"You're going to pay for this." Whatever Edward wanted to think of that as was up to him but really, he could have meant the desk, the shirt or what he was doing to Oswald. All seemed possible.
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It was a fun game now, to spot another letter opener still on the desk. He'd have to find something else to use if he continued with his, to his knowledge that was the last letter opener in the room. No matter, there were plenty of other things around that he could use.
He let go of Oswald's bound hands, after positioning them high enough above his head to force him to stretch his arms. "I'd recommend you hold very still." Said while he lifted the letter opener and then - bang - it came down again, between Oswald's arms, piercing the tie that bound him, making sure he couldn't move his hands an inch.
Edward had to laugh again, moving a few steps back only to run them so he could jump on the desk. There he stood, one foot on either of Oswald's sides, looking down at him. His legs might still be free, but he was still bent backwards over his desk, unable to move much. The position couldn't be very comfortable, but it did look ever so vulnerable. "Behold the King of Gotham, ladies and gentlemen!"
He knelt down on one knee, allowing him to ruffle Oswald's hair. "How are you feeling, my little bird?"
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"What?" Wait, where did he get that other letter opener? He seriously needed to cut back how many of those he had. "Wait, wait, wait! No!" Oswald yelped in fear as he closed his eyes tight and prayed that he didn't accidentally slice a finger off or impale him. Then again, knowing how vicious Edward could get sometimes, it wasn't beyond the realm that he could have been aiming for that. The loud bang confirmed it went through the desk and Oswald inhaled sharply, trying to tilt his head back to see if there was any damage. He couldn't see. It felt okay?
He took a few short rapid breaths as he looked at Edward in disbelief. Good lord, he could have lost a digit. Oh yes. There was a reason he liked Edward. Even when playing safe and in good humour, it was dangerous.
With a frustrated huff, he tried to dislodge his binding from the knife but the more he moved, the more he caught his neck and it wasn't worth it. He slumped back and looked at Edward, his expression somewhat pissy. Mostly because he was trembling slightly from the shock of the earlier stabbing of his desk and the tie.
"Edward, dear, I'm going to get you back for this." There was a cocky little smile, laughing with an edge of nervousness, trying to seem more smug than he was in this moment. Rendered helpless. Unable to move. "Don't think I won't. The king always gets what he wants."
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Except for how he'd impaled his boyfriend to his own desk with three leather openers and was kneeling over him, that was. "What you should concern yourself with at the moment is what I want, don't you think? Because I don't think you have any more leather openers, but isn't there a gun in that one drawer? Right next to the knife?"
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"Now, now, don't be so hasty to play around with weapons. You really don't have to do that." He swallowed hard and shrank back into the desk, trying to look the picture of submission. Yes, he was a good actor these days. "I'll be good."
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It wasn't that surprising that he ended up with the gun in his hand, inspecting it slowly as he turned it around in front of him. With a slow smile he pulled the safety back, then he stretched his arm out, pointing the barrel right against Oswald's head. He had a finger on the trigger as he moved the gun along his face, pressing it right against the cheek he had held just moments earlier.
"In a tunnel of darkness lies a beast of iron..."
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Still, the thought, the fear, the whole vibe Edward had was not only terrifying. It was greatly arousing. So powerful, so unafraid and uncompromising. Always in control. He felt the barrel press into his cheek and he closed his eyes tight, almost afraid to breath too hard and provoke him.
"Don't do it." He swallowed hard and forced himself to take even steady breaths. "You know I'm worth more to you alive than dead. You'd never do it." Because he loved him. Because he was important. That was all he needed from Edward, the feeling that he mattered.
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