Chapter Text
“You are going to cut quite the fine figure at the Founders’ dinner tonight.” Ed helped Oswald into his long-tailed suit jacket, hands smoothing down the shoulders in an almost-caress that sent Oswald’s heartbeat racing. Oswald promptly fastened the buttons, watching the two of them in the mirror.
“Yes,” Oswald agreed shortly, knowing it was best to indulge Ed in his compliments rather than insist once more that he was unworthy of the praise. His hands swiftly moved from his buttons to his cufflinks, fastening them with a well-practised ease.
“Did you know that this dinner has been thrown annually for over two hundred years?” He asked, turning his head to meet Ed’s gaze directly instead of through the mirror. Edward looked him over, adjusting his jacket with the air of ‘final touches’. “It was started by the first families in Gotham. Only the most powerful citizens are invited.”
Ed nodded at him, their eyes meeting before he returned to his new task of collecting lint off Oswald’s jacket.
“We’re lucky I managed to procure us a last-minute plus-one,” Oswald said, trying not to let his excitement and anticipation show too strongly, lest Ed get the wrong idea. Or, rather the right idea, that Oswald didn’t want him to know nonetheless.
“Indeed,” Edward agreed in that rumbling voice he gets when he’s thinking deeply.
“May I ask what is occupying your mind, dear friend?” Oswald clipped, snagging another glance at Ed’s figure in the mirror like a child snatching cookies from a jar.
“Oh, just Isabella,” Edward sighed, his voice dipping into something dreamlike and hazy. Oswald pursed his lips, nose unconsciously wrinkling at the mention of that name.
“I imagine last night left quite the impression,” Oswald said eventually, hating how his indulgent laugh stuck falsely in his throat.
Last night was supposed to have been their night. But then that woman came along and ruined everything.
“You could say that,” Ed mused, a smile curling at his lips as he sighed.
“Yes, seeing as you claim to be in love with her after only knowing her for a few hours,” Oswald replied, a dark bitterness coating his tongue.
“The heart keeps its own time,” Edward answered joyfully.
Oswald flinched, unable to contain the spark of flaring pain in his chest when reminded how cruel time had been to him. Perhaps Edward was correct, and fate truly existed, and this was its taunt; he had all the time to be with Ed when he didn’t want him, and when he did want him, it was always too late. A toying, frustrating, cat and mouse game.
Oswald refused to let this beat him.
“I’m partial to the purple,” Ed said, breaking Oswald from his sharp-tugging thoughts as he draped tie over Oswald’s shoulder with a smile of his lips.
“Broché brings out my eyes,” Oswald told him, not wanting to comply. Edward moved away to fetch the other tie. Small victories. “Are you sure you aren’t mistaking infatuation for love? You did say she is the spitting image of Kringle.”
“Isabella’s beautiful,” Ed gushed. I doubt it, Oswald thought darkly. “And smart.” Wow, two whole things! “So, she bears a passing resemblance to Kristen. It’s just the universe telling me...” Ed waved his hands about, “Telling me I have a second chance at love.”
Really?
“You’re right about the Broché.” Ed held up the tie proudly. Oswald smirked.
“Is your suit quite ready?” he asked, diverting the conversation.
“Yes, it’s fantastic!” Ed chirped.
“I was afraid it wouldn’t be done on time. Of course, that’s the risk for short notice garments, but I simply had to get you something for tonight. You deserve it,” Oswald explained.
“Thank you.” Edward grinned, his smile so genuine, Oswald could believe for a moment that Isabelle didn’t exist, that it was just them and no one else. That tonight was a date where they’d hold hands and slow dance. And, when they came home, Ed would take him to bed, kiss him until he’d melted into the sheets and then take him apart.
“Do you…” Oswald trailed off, realizing belatedly that it wasn’t entirely appropriate to offer Ed help in his own dressing. “You know what? Never mind.”
“Oh, but now I’m curious.” Ed took another step forward, and now he was too close, the man’s scent drifting to Oswald’s nose, skin so close, it wouldn’t take much for Oswald to stick out his tongue and run it along the other man’s clavicle.
“I-I seem to have f-forgotten,” Oswald stuttered, forcing a smile under Ed’s avid gaze. Ed frowned at him, clearly unconvinced.
“That seems to be happening an awful lot lately,” he commented, cooly.
“How strange,” Oswald laughed, rather nervously. “Per-perhaps I am becoming ill. You- you might be so kind as to see that an appointment with a doctor is scheduled for me.”
“Nonsense, I’ll examine you myself,” Ed reprimanded. God, it took every bone in Oswald’s body not to swoon.
“Perhaps tomorrow. I’m sure, whatever it is, it’ll wait for one night,” Oswald assured him as convincingly as he could.
“Well, alright.” Ed finally stepped back, smiling softly. “Now, I hope you don’t mind if I skedaddle. I still need to change, make arrangements for the press conference next week, and ensure the security detail for tonight are ready.”
“Well, don’t strain yourself,” Oswald told him. “I can’t have my Chief of Staff feeling overworked.”
“No, sir.” Ed mock-saluted, throwing him a wink. Heat crawled up Oswald’s neck, and he resolutely tried to tamp down his blush.
“Be off with you,” Oswald huffed, his hoarse voice no doubt ruining his reprimand. Ed just smiled, turning away and leaving the room.
God, could Oswald love him even more?
♠ ♠ ♠
“May I offer you a glass of champagne, Mr Mayor?”
“Yes, thank you,” Oswald accepted, snatching the glass from the waiter's tray without a glance in his direction. Who could blame him, when Edward was standing so near, looking into his eyes as he informed him on the current shareholders for Gotham’s most economically acclaimed businesses? Why was this the story? Oswald couldn’t tell.
“-And, of course, there’s Mr Buik. Ooh, he’s here tonight, isn’t he? I would love to teach that man a lesson in mathematics. Perhaps he’ll realize how big of a loss it was, hiring that nincompoop, DT. For one, he actually calls himself that! Was that not insight alone into his mental prowess?” Ed spat, reaching for a glass of champagne too.
Oswald smirked. “You do get so fired up by these things, my friend.”
“For good reason,” Edward rumbled darkly, glaring at the room as he took a sip from his flute. Oswald did the same, enjoying the tickling in his nose as he swallowed down the bubbles.
“This is good champagne,” Oswald enthused, taking another long pull.
“I’ll get you another if you like?” Ed offered with a smile, taking another sip of his own champagne.
“I’ve not even finished this one!” Oswald protested.
“Then you better finish it while I get another glass. These flutes barely hold anything, they really are rather impractical,” Edward lamented.
“Fine,” Oswald huffed with an exasperated smile, watching as Ed turned away. “But you need one for yourself! I won’t be the only one drinking, here!”
“Yes, sir!” Ed mock saluted, before walking away. Oswald sighed, watching him go, swallowing the irrational lump in his throat as Ed drifted further and further away.
He turned away, only to find himself colliding head-on with a waiter in a bowtie, spilling the content of his flute everywhere.
“Watch where you’re going!” Oswald spat, shaking the droplets from his soaked sleeve.
“Of course, Mr Mayor. So sorry,” The man apologized, smiling blandly.
“Cretin,” Oswald hissed after him, watching him leave.
“I agree completely, but who are we talking about?” Oswald turned to see Ed, smiling warmly as he held out another glass of champagne.
“I’m talking about that imbecile who had the audacity to spill the rest of my drink on me,” Oswald spat, wiping his front down frustratedly.
Ed frowned, looking Oswald up and down. “Do you want me to get the salt?”
“No, no. I don’t think it will stain,” Oswald placated.
“Still…” Ed turned, snatching up a napkin before turning back, meeting Oswald’s watching eye. Oswald’s breath caught as Ed’s hand brushed against his chest, warmth seeping through the fabric to replace the cool splash of champagne. Ed continued to wipe him down, making his way down to Oswald’s sleeve.
“There,” he concluded, scrunching up the soiled napkin and handing it to a passing waiter.
“Thank you.” Oswald cleared his throat, struggling to tamp down the heat blooming across his cheeks.
“No trouble,” Ed assured him, his grin not helping Oswald’s situation.
“Yes, well,” Oswald coughed, “I suppose we better go... mingle.”
“Okay,” Ed agreed, stepping up beside him as Oswald turned to survey the room.
“H-how about you go that way, and I’ll go this way and then-”
“We’ll meet in the middle,” Ed concurred with a warm smile.
“Exactly.” Oswald nodded, swallowing thickly. “It’ll be over before we know it.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Oswald groaned, massaging his temples. He was so sick of all this… schmoozing. He was the Mayor of Gotham, dammit, he shouldn’t have been belittling himself to these moronic penny-snatchers, not to mention their husbands, the cradle-snatchers. It was absolutely despicable.
“Here, I got you another.” Oswald turned, his frustration fading under Ed’s kind smile and the sight of another flute of champagne.
“Oh, thank God,” Oswald exclaimed, snatching up the drink and downing it immediately.
“I’d call that a waste, but, well,” Ed shrugged, “we’re in Gotham.”
Oswald snorted, licking his lips to sweep up the remaining droplets of champagne. “Would you be so kind as to get me another? And one for yourself.”
“Careful there, Oswald,” Ed tutted light-heartedly.
“I’m always careful,” Oswald replied confidently. Edward snorted and shook his head. “Oh, be off with you!”
Ed grinned, fluttering his eyelashes oh-so-innocently before sauntering away. Oswald took a moment to appreciate the fine work of his tailor. Ed’s trousers really were rather tight fitting, especially where it counted.
“Quite the charming young friend you have there.”
Oswald spun round, grip tightening on his cane as his cheeks flooded with head, realizing he’d been caught staring (again. Usually it was Olga who caught him).
“Yes, he is rather… nice,” Oswald agreed, inhaling slowly to regain himself.
“Quite a catch, I’ll bet. Is he single?” The stranger asked. Oswald looked the peculiar woman up and down. She was twice Ed’s age, at least.
“No, I’m afraid he isn’t,” Oswald grouched. “Although, I can assure you, that even if he were single, Ed would never be interested.”
“Seeing as I had no intentions, that is perfectly acceptable,” the woman mused, looking down at Oswald with a raised eyebrow. “I must say, you don’t seem too pleased with your friend’s relationship status. Bad blood?”
“If you must know,” Oswald spat, “The woman he apparently is ‘in love’ with is somebody he met last night. She also happens to look exactly like his previous girlfriend who he ki-”Oswald cleared his throat, “-quite liked.”
“How very unfortunate,” the woman purred. “Might I offer a suggestion?
“Please do.” Oswald gestured for her to go ahead. He needed another glass of champagne to knock back. Where on earth was Edward?
“Perhaps you should get rid of her.”
Oswald did a double-take, staring up at the woman incredulously. “You’d have me kill my Chief of Staff’s girlfriend?”
“Well, I never said kill,” the woman admonished, swivelling her neck in a snake-like gesture. “Only… prevent her desire to meet Edward again. But, should it come to it…”
Oswald pursed his lips. “I’m afraid you don’t know what you talking ab--oh, Ed, hello!”
“Hello,” Ed replied. “Sorry I was gone so long, but I figured you could use something stronger than champagne.” Ed held up a decanter of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Oswald breathed, eyes glued to Ed’s as a smile pulled at his lips.
“Yes, he’s quite the catch.” Oswald startled at the interruption, turning to glare at the infuriating woman.
“Oh, Ed, this is…” Oswald tilted his head with a frown. “Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name.”
“Because you never cared to ask,” the woman sniped, glaring at Oswald with equal force. “It's Kathryn.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ed piped up, not doing much to diffuse the situation. “I'm Edward Nygma.”
“Yes,” Kathryn purred, “I know.”
“So, how did you end up at the Founders’ dinner?” Ed inquired. “If it's not rude to ask.”
“Not at all,” she cackled, dark and humourless. “I'm from one of Gotham's oldest families. And I'm part of a group which… oversees things. “
Oswald shuffled his feet, his interest piquing reluctantly. “What sorts of things?”
“Everything that matters in Gotham,” Kathryn replied, airily. “We've had our eye on you for quite some time, Mr Cobblepot.”
Oswald gulped, his only refuge from the tipped-over bucket of dread being Ed's hand sliding over his arm comfortingly. He really could use that whiskey right about now.
“Who, exactly, are you?” Ed asked, tone as stiff as Oswald's spine and the drink he so desperately needed.
The dinner bell rang, disrupting the tension somewhat as Kathryn took it as a cue to leave.
“We'll contact you when the time is right,” she threw back over her shoulder haughtily. “Enjoy your evening.”
Oswald shivered as she left turning away.
“Well, that was…” Ed trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Oswald agreed wholeheartedly.
“So…” Ed began, turning to Oswald with a mischievous smirk. “Feel like skipping the first half of dinner to hide and drink ourselves stupid so we'll forget that ever happened?”
“Lead the way, Mr Nygma.” Oswald waved him forward.
♠ ♠ ♠
The wine cellar had a surprisingly easy lock to pick. Either that or Ed’s skills with his lockpicks had been greatly underestimated by Oswald.
Or perhaps he was tipsy and not really paying attention.
“That’s the problem with these people,” Oswald crowed, leaning his head back against the wall as he observed Ed’s handywork. “They call themselves founders ‘cause all their grandmommies and granddaddies were here at some point. They haven’t done anything in this city, they haven’t made one change. They haven’t earned the right to be respected.”
“It’s open,” Ed told him, standing back up. After a moment where Oswald polished off the last of the scotch and Ed merely stared, Ed stepped back from the doorway.
“Thank you, good sir,” Oswald grinned, tipping an imaginary hat too far and losing his balance, causing him to stumble through the door.
“You okay?” Ed asked, the smile in his voice betraying any care in his words. Oswald straightened his waistcoat, huffing and sniffing derisively.
“That’s what happens when you refuse to drink more than one glass of whiskey,” Oswald grouched, scowling at the floor.
“I didn’t think it would be so strong,” Ed explained, wrinkling his nose. “How can you drink that all the time? It burns more than that time I set officer Crosby's car on fire.”
“You set a car on fire?” Oswald asked, half surprised, half impressed. He grinned up at Ed as he nodded seriously. “Well, look at that,” He commented, trying to saunter forward but ending up stumbling again.
“Careful,” Ed told him, steadying him by his shoulders. Oswald giggled, looking up at the bespectacled man he loved.
“If it isn’t little ol’ Eddie Nygma, completely innocent, wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Oswald praised. He reached up, taking Ed’s face in his hand before stroking his cheek with his thumb. “We both know that’s not true, don’t we?”
“Perhaps more alcohol wasn’t a good idea,” Ed questioned, peering down worriedly as he gently removed Oswald’s hand from his face.
“Nonsense,” Oswald spat, turning to regard the contents of the wine cellar. They certainly were well stocked, Oswald noted many of his favourite vintages among the collection. Spotting a 1947 St-Emilion Cheval Blanc, Oswald smiled, making his way to the expensive wine.
“No, Oswald!” Ed gasped as Oswald took hold of the bottle. “That’s- that’s near priceless, you cannot drink that!”
“Oh, I wasn’t gonna drink it, I was gonna smash it,” Oswald told him, grinning as he raised the bottle threateningly.
“No! No, Oswald that’s murder, You can’t-”
“You should know by now that I’m not above such things,” Oswald commented, thrusting a finger at Ed. “And neither are you.”
Mr Leonard sprung to mind, slumped back in his chair as blood stained greedy hands and the darkwood floor.
“Still, I’d rather you drank it than broke it,” Ed told him, holding his hand out in a calming gesture. Oswald cocked his head.
“Only if you drink it too,” Oswald decided. Ed nodded in agreement. Oswald stumbled over, grinning everytime Ed winced. He slid down one of the glass cabinets, patting the space beside him as he pouted.
“Fine,” Ed grumbled, scowling as his knees clicked audibly when he sat down.
“Good boy,” Oswald crooned, handing the bottle over. Ed uncorked it, immediately passing it back. “Suit yourself,” Oswald shrugged, swigging a mouthful and swallowing.
“How can you drink it like that?” Ed asked incredulously, sighing when Oswald handed him the bottle again.
“This isn’t the best vintage I’ve had. It just gets hype because it’s expensive,” Oswald told him, smiling when Ed finally took a sip from the bottle. The red smeared against his lips, delicious and tempting like blood, drawing Oswald in.
Oswald blinked as he realized he’d leant forward, immediately snapping back into place as his cheeks heated.
“Here,” Ed gave him back the bottle, politely bypassing Oswald's blunder, or perhaps he hadn't noticed it in the first place.
“Thanks,” Oswald said, taking a sip before wincing at the taste. “Actually, on second thought, you drink the overpriced wine since your so high and mighty, and I'll see if they have a good pinot noir.”
“I'm the high and mighty one?” Ed asked exasperatedly, but he still continued to drink it, so Oswald took it as a win.
He hummed in pleasure as he spotted a particular favourite of his, immediately selecting it from the shelf and popping the cork.
“Interesting choice, pinot noir,” Ed commented. Oswald rolled his eyes, lifting the bottle to has lips so he could gulp a good portion of it down. “Did you know that the pinot noir grape is one of France's oldest wine grapes, traceable back to the 1st century?”
“Fascinating,” Oswald replied, taking another swig.
“I'm glad you think so,” Ed told him, prompting Oswald to just chug his bottle while eyeing up another. “Did you know that pinot noir grapes are a variety of the species Vitis vinifera? Also, their name is derived from the French words for ‘pine’ and-”
Black.
“-Louis Philippe, and after that came the French Revolution, which ended the monarchy quite effectively. And then came Napoleon, who-”
“God, I'm getting a headache,” Oswald groaned, rubbing his temples. “If I knew you were just going to blather on about French history, I never would have gotten you drunk.”
“I knew you had ulterior motives!” Ed crowed triumphantly. “Speaking of which, did you know that Napoleon actually-”
“Okay, it's decided, we're going upstairs and getting you some food,” Oswald announced, getting to his feet with a hiss as his knees clicked. “Christ knows that I have no intentions of dealing with you unless you at least marginally sober up.”
“Speaking of Jesus Christ,” Ed began, thankfully accepting Oswald's hand up as he went down yet another tangent. “Did you know that, against popular depictions, because he was from the middle east, he was actually-”
Black.
“-not my fault, detective.” Oswald shook his head firmly. “We were in the wine cellar the whole time.”
“The wine cellar, huh?” Bullock prompted, his eyebrows climbing impossibly higher up his brow. “And exactly how shitfaced are you two right now? “
Oswald gasped, rightfully horrified. “Sir, how dare you accuse me of such acts. I am the mayor of Gotham, and though my sexual preferences may seem unconventional to a man like you, I can assure you that never in my life have I had the slightest inclination to do anything so degrading.”
Bullock wrinkled his nose. “Gross. And I was asking how drunk you are. You're slurring your words and Nygma can barely stand.”
“Hey!” Oswald protested, rather disgruntled. “I have perfect enunciation, thank you very much.”
“He's right!” Ed finally piped up after swallowing the last mouthful of the Merlot he'd selected before they'd left the cellar. “Oswald would be wonderful at copulation!”
Oswald turned his head, frowning deeply in confusion as he met Ed's gaze.
“Speaking of copulation, did you know that Napoleon’s wife had-”
“No!” Oswald interrupted. “I told you, no more!” Ed pouted in response but stayed blessedly silent, so Oswald counted it as a win.
“Wow, you too sure are a pair!” Bullock commented. Oswald grumbled under his breath, vowing to glare at his stupid face as soon as it came back into focus.
“What happened here to cause such a kerfuffle?” Ed asked, staggering forward to lean on Oswald's shoulder.
“Poisoning,” Bullock explained shortly.
“The food?” Oswald inquired.
“No,” Bullock smirked, “the wine.”
Oswald blanched and Ed's bottle slipped from his hand to splinter into shards across the floor.
“Ed,” Oswald instructed, “would you be so kind as to call my driver? We're leaving.”
Oswald grabbed Ed's hand, steering him away. Ed was giggling like a mad thing, and he was lucky that Oswald loved him, otherwise, he'd have shot him by then just to get him to shut up.
“Lovely to see you again, Detective Bullock.” Oswald nodded to him as they passed. “I pray we don't meet again, and I wish you all the-”
Black.
“-worst driver I’ve ever had!” Oswald spat, actual saliva spraying from the corner of his mouth. The driver’s lips twitched, but he otherwise remained silent, much to Oswald’s chagrin.
“Get in the car, Ed!” Oswald instructed, pulling open the door in a strange reversal of roles. Ed obeyed without a word, sliding over politely to leave room for Oswald who climbed in and shut the door. The car’s tires screeched, signalling that they’d pulled away.
“I like it when you get all shouty,” Ed giggled, smiling happily. Oswald frowned, watching him smoosh his face into the shoulder of his suit-jacket.
“You’re different when you’re drunk,” Oswald observed, raising an eyebrow at the display.
“Nuh-uh,” Ed shook his head, accidentally knocking his glasses off his face. Oswald sighed, bending to pick them up.
“Here,” he said, handing the glasses back.
“You’re so nice, Ozzie,” Ed murmured, kissing the tip of Oswald’s nose. Heat flared in his cheeks as Oswald quickly turned away.
“I think I need another-”
Black.
“-drink my father used to give me,” Oswald explained, lifting the glass to his lips and sighing at the burn as it sloshed down his throat. “Try it.”
“Okay,” Ed chirped, snatching the glass right out of Oswald’s hand, downing half of it.
“Your own glass, Ed,” Oswald reprimanded, taking the glass back and swallowing another mouthful.
“But yours tastes better!” Ed whined, pouting.
Oswald rolled his eyes, finishing off the glass with a sigh. “See? Now there’s none left so you have to drink from your own glass.”
“Nuh-uh,” Ed shook his head fervently. And suddenly, he was leaning in, capturing Oswald lips with his own, tongue licking the whisky away before delving inside.
“Mmm, yummy,” Ed hummed, pulling back with a grin. Oswald sat there, motionless, brain struggling to comprehend what just happened.
“Ed,” Oswald coughed, setting down the empty glass. “Ed, I-I think it’s best that you go to bed.”
“No,” Ed whined, and Oswald inhaled sharply through his nose as a long, lanky leg threw itself over his thighs, Ed situating himself onto Oswald’s lap insistently. “I wanna stay here with you.”
“Ed...” Oswald tried, trailing off as Ed stroked a hand down his chest, lips brushing his ear.
“Please, Ozzie,” he whispered, Oswald’s breath catching at the brush of lips against his earlobe. “Please, Ozzie, I-”
Black.
“-need you,” Ed gasped as Oswald continued his trail of wet kisses down his neck. “Need you inside! Please, Oswald!”
Oswald was struggling to hold it together, tethering himself to reality with a strong grip on Ed’s hair, pulling his head back so he could bite a mark over his jugular. “Mine,” he growled, plastering himself along the lines of Ed’s body, fitting into his crevices as he rolled their hips together in a bass-beat rhythm. This had to be a dream, it was the only explanation. A wet one at that, with Edward gasping and moaning beneath him, a fucking fantasy dripping before him.
He continued unbuttoning the last of Ed’s shirt, throwing it in the general direction he’d thrown the rest of Ed’s clothes. He marvelled at the skin he’d revealed, running his hands down the flat of Ed’s stomach with helpless awe.
“What’s your secret, Ed?” Oswald asked, rolling one of Ed’s nipples between his fingers to watch him gasp.
“What?” Ed asked, breathless and wanton as his eyelashes fluttered.
“You’re so beautiful all the time, I don’t know how you manage it,” Oswald clarified, crawling down the bed as a wonderful idea lit up his mind.
“I don’t know what you me- ah!” Oswald took Ed’s nipple between his lips, sucking hard as Ed’s hips bucked and his head tilted back with a roar. “Oswald, please!” Ed begged. Oswald trailed his kisses even lower, sucking another mark on Ed’s hip, scraping over it with his teeth. Ed shook beneath him, clearly struggling to retain from any movement as Oswald shifted even lower. Ed’s cock was full and rosy, twitching beneath Oswald’s gaze, and Oswald’s mouth filled with saliva in anticipation. He lapped at the head, curious for a taste, praying that through the haze of alcohol, he’d still retain the flavour in the back of his mind.
“O-Oswald!” Ed pleaded as Oswald sucked him down, bobbing his head as best he could, wondering if he was really moving or if it was just the room bouncing up and down. Ed’s legs lifted to hook around his shoulders, and Oswald slid his hands down from Ed’s hips to grip his ass, holding him in place. His middle finger slipped, sliding across Ed’s hole almost delicately. The skin fluttered and Ed gasped, managing to buck his hips a considerable amount despite Oswald’s hold on him. No matter, though, because Oswald had just thought of a much better place to put his mouth.
Oswald slid down the bed sheets, pressing his face into Ed’s asscheeks. One touch of his tongue to Ed’s rim and Ed was already moaning.
“Ah! Ah! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Ah!” Oswald wondered for a moment if he’d accidentally broke Ed’s brain. “Oh, Oswald! Please! Please, f-fuck-”
Black.
“-harder, please! Harder!” Ed shouted. Oswald felt like he was drowning in Edward’s cries, the sound pushing his hips faster and faster. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he canted his head back, trying desperately to stave off his orgasm as long as possible.
Everything felt a little hazy and clumsy, the world blurring at the edges, and Oswald had been trying to stay quiet, but; “Fuck, Ed! Yes! Yes! Oh, you’re so fucking- I can’t-”
He was untethering, the ropes holding him in place fraying too easily. He pumped Ed’s cock harder with his fist, needing him to come first so he could see. He needed the image forever seared across his retinas so it’d be there every time he closed his eyes.
“Fuck, Oswald, Oswald! I’m- I’m-” Ed came with a shout, spilling across Oswald’s hand, muscles tightening around Oswald’s cock, enough to bring him to the brink as well. Oswald forced his eyes to remain open even as colours danced in his peripheral vision, the tableau of a strung-out, absolutely beautiful Ed too good to let his own orgasm get in the way.
When he said the words, it was a weight off his shoulders, vowels and consonants rolling off his tongue in the most beautiful form of release.
“Ed, I… I love-”
Black.