Gotham. Fic. NC-17
Title: Smitten (chapter one)
Characters: Oswald/Edward and Oswald's mother
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,092
Summary: Gertrude isn't the only one smitten with Edward.
An: Can also be read here at AO3
Oswald was sitting at bar in his club. He had hired a trumpet player to preform and the sounds of a trumpet tickled his ears. He looked up at the stage and watched the player's fingers fly across the instrument. The brass of the trumpet glowed under the spot light.
The club might just be a front for his less than legal activities, but that didn't mean he didn't want it to be popular. Gotham could use a little class.
'Did you know that the average trumpet contains six and a half feet of tubing?' said a voice next to him.
He turned around and a man wearing glasses who looked somewhat familiar.
'Can I help you with something? Oswald asked slightly annoyed.
The man just grinned as he picked a small glass of red liquid and sipped it. 'No but I can help you.'
'I doubt that,' Oswald got up to leave. The man was obviously unhinged and Oswald didn't need that.
'I think so. You've murdered quite a few people and it's only by luck that you haven't been caught. I can make sure you never get caught.'
Oswald tuned around. Now he was interested. The man knew a lot and Oswald couldn't decide if he should just kill him.
'I see and how do you plan to help me?'
The man grinned wider showing pearly white teeth. 'I work as the medical examiner at the GCPD and it wouldn't be too hard to cover up your murders.'
'Why? Do you want money.'
The man giggled and Oswald was right, the guy was unhinged.
'I don't want your money. I will take your friendship.'
Oswald brow knitted together. 'Friendship?'
'Oh yes. I'd just like to spend time with you, perhaps we could become friends.'
Oswald thought about it. Unless the man was one hell of an actor he seemed genuine and spending time with him seemed like a small piece to pay for not going to prison.
'All right. What's your name, friend?'
The man stood up and put his hand in front of Oswald.
Oswald took is hand, the skin was dry and warm, and shook it.
'Edward Nygma.'
Oswald sat down at the bar and Edward joined him and sipped his drink.
'We've met before but that's just the kind of impression I leave on people. Well when people don't think I'm strange, that is.'
'Oh... Oh...' Oswald said because he suddenly remembered Edward and his ridiculous riddle. He should have said sorry, but he knew he wouldn't really mean it.
Oswald turned his head and looked at Edward. He was staring straight ahead and his face was in profile. As he drank his drink his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. A thin bead of sweat slid down his throat and Oswald had the sudden urge to lick it off Edward's skin.
Oswald turned around and ordered a drink. That urge had been unexpected and unwanted; he barely knew Edward. He tried to remember how annoyed he had been with him when they first met and he held onto that.
After an hour or so, Edward and Oswald were still at the bar. The trumpet player had finished his set and a singer had taken the stage.
The singer was named Molly. Her dark hair was curly and framed her face. Her tight red dress complimented her dark skin. As she sing she swayed back and forth.
Oswald thought people might find her attractive, but he didn't. He didn't want to look too closely at the reason. That would cause nothing, but trouble.
'What do little penguins sing when their father brings home a fish for dinner?' Edward asked next to Oswald.
Oswald turned and stared at Edward. 'I don't know. What?'
'Freeze a Jolly Good Fellow,' Edward said with a grin.
Oswald just rolled his eyes and tried not to stare at Edwards long fingers wrapped around his glass. Maybe it was the liquor, but the riddle wasn't as annoying as the other ones.
'Well I suppose I should head home,' Edward said as he finished his drink. Will you walk me out?'
'Sure. Why not,' Oswald said because his night really couldn't get any worse.
He lead Edward to the door and as Edward put on his coat Oswald caught the scent of spicy cologne. He tried not to breath deep.
'I'll be back tomorrow.'
'Great,' Oswald said trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and wondered if it wasn't too late to just have Edward killed or at least maimed.
Later that night, Oswald walked into his bedroom and untied his tie. He took off his suit and hung it over a chair, careful to smooth out the fabric; Mother hated when he wrinkled his clothes.
He shivered as the cool air hit his skin. Once he was in nothing but his boxers he got into bed and slid under the blankets. The blanket were worn and faded and covered with little purple penguins. Oswald really should have thrown out the blanket years ago, but he just bring himself to do it. As a child he was convinced the blanket protected him from monsters.
He rubbed his nose against the blanket, the scent of lavender tickled his nose, and he settled down into the bed.
He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. After laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling for several long minutes, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
By matters he meant his cock.
He reached over to the desk by his bed and pulled a tube of lubricant out of the drawer. Sliding his boxers down his pale thighs he flicked the cap on the tube and poured lube onto his hand.
He pictured some else's hand around his cock as he stroked; if it looked like Jim's hand no one had to know.
His other hand reached down and fondled his balls.
He stroked the shaft up and down and as he did so the hand changed into a face. A man with short red hair and green eyes. The man wrapped his lips around the cock head and Oswald groaned.
Faster and faster he stroked as the man's head bobbed up and down. He felt his orgasm building and tightened his grip. As he squeezed his balls the man changed his hair became darker and his eyes changed to brown.
Oswald came as 'Edward' sucked.
After he came down from his orgasm laid on his back and uncharacteristically swore.
'Damn it.'
Characters: Oswald/Edward and Oswald's mother
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,092
Summary: Gertrude isn't the only one smitten with Edward.
An: Can also be read here at AO3
Oswald was sitting at bar in his club. He had hired a trumpet player to preform and the sounds of a trumpet tickled his ears. He looked up at the stage and watched the player's fingers fly across the instrument. The brass of the trumpet glowed under the spot light.
The club might just be a front for his less than legal activities, but that didn't mean he didn't want it to be popular. Gotham could use a little class.
'Did you know that the average trumpet contains six and a half feet of tubing?' said a voice next to him.
He turned around and a man wearing glasses who looked somewhat familiar.
'Can I help you with something? Oswald asked slightly annoyed.
The man just grinned as he picked a small glass of red liquid and sipped it. 'No but I can help you.'
'I doubt that,' Oswald got up to leave. The man was obviously unhinged and Oswald didn't need that.
'I think so. You've murdered quite a few people and it's only by luck that you haven't been caught. I can make sure you never get caught.'
Oswald tuned around. Now he was interested. The man knew a lot and Oswald couldn't decide if he should just kill him.
'I see and how do you plan to help me?'
The man grinned wider showing pearly white teeth. 'I work as the medical examiner at the GCPD and it wouldn't be too hard to cover up your murders.'
'Why? Do you want money.'
The man giggled and Oswald was right, the guy was unhinged.
'I don't want your money. I will take your friendship.'
Oswald brow knitted together. 'Friendship?'
'Oh yes. I'd just like to spend time with you, perhaps we could become friends.'
Oswald thought about it. Unless the man was one hell of an actor he seemed genuine and spending time with him seemed like a small piece to pay for not going to prison.
'All right. What's your name, friend?'
The man stood up and put his hand in front of Oswald.
Oswald took is hand, the skin was dry and warm, and shook it.
'Edward Nygma.'
Oswald sat down at the bar and Edward joined him and sipped his drink.
'We've met before but that's just the kind of impression I leave on people. Well when people don't think I'm strange, that is.'
'Oh... Oh...' Oswald said because he suddenly remembered Edward and his ridiculous riddle. He should have said sorry, but he knew he wouldn't really mean it.
Oswald turned his head and looked at Edward. He was staring straight ahead and his face was in profile. As he drank his drink his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. A thin bead of sweat slid down his throat and Oswald had the sudden urge to lick it off Edward's skin.
Oswald turned around and ordered a drink. That urge had been unexpected and unwanted; he barely knew Edward. He tried to remember how annoyed he had been with him when they first met and he held onto that.
After an hour or so, Edward and Oswald were still at the bar. The trumpet player had finished his set and a singer had taken the stage.
The singer was named Molly. Her dark hair was curly and framed her face. Her tight red dress complimented her dark skin. As she sing she swayed back and forth.
Oswald thought people might find her attractive, but he didn't. He didn't want to look too closely at the reason. That would cause nothing, but trouble.
'What do little penguins sing when their father brings home a fish for dinner?' Edward asked next to Oswald.
Oswald turned and stared at Edward. 'I don't know. What?'
'Freeze a Jolly Good Fellow,' Edward said with a grin.
Oswald just rolled his eyes and tried not to stare at Edwards long fingers wrapped around his glass. Maybe it was the liquor, but the riddle wasn't as annoying as the other ones.
'Well I suppose I should head home,' Edward said as he finished his drink. Will you walk me out?'
'Sure. Why not,' Oswald said because his night really couldn't get any worse.
He lead Edward to the door and as Edward put on his coat Oswald caught the scent of spicy cologne. He tried not to breath deep.
'I'll be back tomorrow.'
'Great,' Oswald said trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and wondered if it wasn't too late to just have Edward killed or at least maimed.
Later that night, Oswald walked into his bedroom and untied his tie. He took off his suit and hung it over a chair, careful to smooth out the fabric; Mother hated when he wrinkled his clothes.
He shivered as the cool air hit his skin. Once he was in nothing but his boxers he got into bed and slid under the blankets. The blanket were worn and faded and covered with little purple penguins. Oswald really should have thrown out the blanket years ago, but he just bring himself to do it. As a child he was convinced the blanket protected him from monsters.
He rubbed his nose against the blanket, the scent of lavender tickled his nose, and he settled down into the bed.
He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. After laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling for several long minutes, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
By matters he meant his cock.
He reached over to the desk by his bed and pulled a tube of lubricant out of the drawer. Sliding his boxers down his pale thighs he flicked the cap on the tube and poured lube onto his hand.
He pictured some else's hand around his cock as he stroked; if it looked like Jim's hand no one had to know.
His other hand reached down and fondled his balls.
He stroked the shaft up and down and as he did so the hand changed into a face. A man with short red hair and green eyes. The man wrapped his lips around the cock head and Oswald groaned.
Faster and faster he stroked as the man's head bobbed up and down. He felt his orgasm building and tightened his grip. As he squeezed his balls the man changed his hair became darker and his eyes changed to brown.
Oswald came as 'Edward' sucked.
After he came down from his orgasm laid on his back and uncharacteristically swore.
'Damn it.'