Chapter 1: "Knocking, Victor. We talked about this."
Penguin graciously thanks Fries. “Thank you, Victor. I know I can always count on you. Should I find myself in need of your skill set again, I’ll call. However, I hardly doubt another freezing will be necessary given our earlier exchange with Mr. Nygma…”
His voice trails off as he briefly recalls the encounter. His heart softens ever so slightly. With what? Compassion? Surely not! Pity? That's more like it. He returns his attention to the towering figure before him.
He clasps Fries’ enormous arm and holds it a moment longer than necessary. After all, it’s impossible to forget the impressive bicep nestled within the cryosuit.
“Good night, Victor.”
“Yeah sure,” Fries deadpans before exiting the lounge.
Oswald watches the iceman take his leave. He listens to the thuds fade as Fries ambles out.
After Victor disappears, he relaxes his posture and sighs. On one hand, Fries reliably mitigates (if not obliterates) the occasional obstacle Oswald might encounter. On the other, his presence does nothing to assuage his chronic pain. The chill always leaves his twisted frame with a deep and unrelenting ache. Even with the aid of the kingpin’s cane, it requires effort to return to his office after such a long day. He could really use a drink.
On the way, he stops to fill a bucket of ice. He prefers his liquor neat, but options are always nice. Besides, there was no one nearby to fetch him some should he desire any later. After the day’s events, he felt he could rest on his laurels if only for the night. He dismissed most of his formidable crew earlier.
Penguin hobbles back to his office and sets the bucket down at his bar. He immediately reaches for the Macallan Rare Cask. On autopilot, he pours it into his whisky tumbler —only to remember the ice bucket he just put down.
Why did I go through all the trouble of grabbing ice again?
Oswald emits an annoyed huff. The bottle clinks as he returns it to the bar. No matter he thinks as he collects his tumbler. He swirls the amber nectar and takes a deep appreciative whiff before he sips.
He sighs with satisfied pleasure and enjoys the complex bouquet —the perfect end to a successful (but exhausting) day. Oswald shuffles over to his window with a dazzling view of Gotham and smugly regards his kingdom. Before long, his aching right leg and shoulder pain urge him to rest.
He sets his drink down on his desk and hangs up his jacket. He also collects his bottle of scotch before he settles into his throne. With no audience present, he groans audibly and unceremoniously plops himself down. He clicks his remote to play some music.
Oswald takes another deep swallow. He loosens his tie and unfastens his top button. He takes a deep breath and recalls the day’s events: notably his meeting with Sofia Falcone and the elimination of the Falcone family loyalists —aided by the sure and reliable gun of Zsasz (the other Victor). These recollections elicit a self-satisfied chuckle.
Before long, his musings sour to frustration as he recalls the wild goose chase and wasted man hours thanks to Edward’s ridiculous beat box “riddles” —as if they even qualified as such. He waited for Ed at the pier “where earth meets the sky, where water flows, and birds fly by” to no avail. And that second message referencing a place where “some people lie, some people speak, some people cry”? He sneers with derision.
Honestly, Ed. What the fuck?
He takes another sip.
But perhaps it wasn't all a waste. Zsasz got an opportunity for some fun at the hapless messengers’ expense. His reliable and handsome assassin was a savant in the arts of torture and murder. Oswald provided his gunman with plenty of the work he relished, but Zsasz bored easily. The busier Penguin kept him, the less inclined he was to make unnecessary (sometimes bizarre) comments or mischief. Ample work and generous compensation would also keep him from seeking out other contracts.
Penguin was certain the beat boxers would provide Victor hours of entertainment. He could practically hear their pointless begging punctuated by blood-curdling screams. He imagines Zsasz towering above his terrified and blubbering victims. His predatory eyes gleam and his mouth stretches into a terrible smile. He uses the back of his hand to slowly wipe their blood spatter from his chin before returning to his fun.
Penguin takes another drink. He still cannot believe Nygma sent such idiotic messages.
His mind wistfully returns to Edward.
He tries to take solace in the fact he wholly, utterly defeated Ed without having to freeze him again. He shakes his head incredulously at how far his former chief of staff had fallen. Gone was the smug and calculating logician. Talk about karma!
It was only fair. After all, Ed ruined him —and almost killed him. Had it not been for Ivy.... Where the hell has that annoying (albeit loyal) simpleton been anyway? No matter. He had no time for her cluelessness.
Through his thoughts, he recognizes the somber introduction to Joy Division’s “Twenty Four Hours”. He smiles bitterly and anticipates Ian Curtis’ rich, sardonic baritone.
“So this is permanent, love’s shattered pride.
What once was innocence, turned on its side.
A cloud hangs over me, marks every move,
Deep in the memory, of what once was love...”
He raises his glass to his mouth. Oswald recalls how Ed’s squarely-set jaw eventually quivered with uncertainty after he had to explain the pointlessness of his “revenge” attempt to the once brilliant man. His wrathful eyes became doubtful and confused. Oswald was still incredulous that Ed failed to sense Fries’ arrival.
He envisions Ed on his knees, arms raised in supplication before Victor: his hubris replaced by humility before his eventual surrender.
“Okay, Oswald. I’m not the Riddler."
When Oswald feels his heart soften again, he chides himself. He banished his feelings for Ed. For anyone! He takes an inattentive sip and quickly seeks to distract himself. It’s then he resolves to replace his thoughts of Edward with those of another man: the one he just dismissed.
Oswald couldn’t help but think of Victor Fries. It was hard not to. Victor had become indispensable to him. He agreed to assist Fries in reversing his condition, provided he agreed to assist him reclaim everything he lost thanks to Ed—. No. I’m not thinking of him. He gulps down the remainder of his scotch, and pours himself another.
He returns his thoughts to Fries. Oswald takes another deep swallow.
He recalls the time he and Ivy sought Victor out. How could he ever forget the sight of the frozen adonis?
Oswald closes his eyes and fondly recollects Victor’s height, beefy pecs and arms. Despite the threat of Fries’ wrath, he couldn’t stop his furtive glances. He openly gaped at his substantial trunk.
To this day, Oswald can’t shake the memory whenever he sees Victor: Fries standing shirtless, exuding effortless sex appeal. He fondly remembers his traps and lats, and the way his chinos clung to his hips. He muses, What a waste to cover up such a beautiful body.
Oswald entertains a fantasy. In it, Victor discovers a way to reverse his condition. The appreciative cryogenist wishes to express his gratitude to Oswald. After all, he provided the critical resources that helped him reach a breakthrough. Victor could thank him in any number of ways. Oswald prefers something sexual in nature.
In Oswald’s inebriated state, he’s unable to dream up any meaningful dialogue for his fantasy. However, he has no trouble imagining the setting.
He and Victor are alone in his mansion sharing a bottle of wine. They stand in front of the cozy fire that crackles quietly. With Victor’s new lease on life, he’s more relaxed and charming —funny, even. He’s smart like Ed—. Oswald. Don’t.
They sip wine and chat. After a particularly funny quip, they laugh wholeheartedly. Eventually, their laughter dies down. Once silent, they regard one another. Victor casts his eyes down to Oswald’s mouth and slightly opens his jaw. Oswald can’t help but notice how the firelight accentuates the cleft in Victor’s now slack chin. He wonders what it would be like to press his tongue into it.
Oswald peers up at Victor and watches him place his wineglass on the mantle. He steps forward to wrap his large hand behind Oswald’s neck. He pulls him in for a heated and open-mouthed kiss. It’s full of longing and hunger. Oswald’s knees buckle. He’s heady from the wine and drops his wineglass to the floor.
As their kiss intensifies, he reaches up to feel the expanse of Fries’ chest. Meanwhile, Victor runs his other hand down the length of Oswald’s back. Penguin explores the firm pecs while Victor explores the kingpin’s diminutive build. Victor passes the small of Oswald's back and spans down the length of his tight ass. Despite the barrier of his trousers, he can feel Victor’s fingers press ever so slightly into his gluteal cleft.
Surprised at the liberty, Oswald pushes against Victor’s chest to briefly pull away from his thick lips. They momentarily gape at one another with dilated pupils and heaving chests. Victor takes the hand he has on Oswald’s ass and presses him flush against his body. As he moves in for another bruising kiss, Oswald can feel Victor’s sizable length grow firm. Oswald’s responds in kind.
With all the scotch and the aid of his delightful fantasy, Oswald has lost all inhibition. He’s begun rubbing himself outside his suit pants. He’s half hard. He instinctively grasps as much of his cock as he can through his trousers and imagines it’s Victor’s wanton touch. He tosses his head back against his grandiose chair.
It doesn’t take long before he unfastens and unzips his pants. He pulls out swollen cock to fully indulge it. He imagines it's Victor’s hand that deftly releases it. His silk boxers are already well-seeped with precome. Fries smiles down at him with smug satisfaction.
Oswald’s dick feels so fucking good in his hands: the weight and girth of it, the warmth, the firmness —the smell....
He stops momentarily to generously lick his left thumb. He returns it to his cock’s tip in an effort to mix his saliva with the beaded precome. The scotch stings slightly when he first makes contact. He opens his mouth in surprise, then pleasure as he rubs himself ever so slightly. His hips move on their own volition.
He fantasizes Victor’s hand expertly teases him. His breathing grows more shallow and returns his hand back up to his mouth. This time, he covers it with bands of saliva for more lubrication. He returns it back to his cock and groans audibly.
Oswald begins tossing himself. He imagines it's Victor. Before long, he envisions the strapping man falling to his knees. Victor firmly holds his shaft and guides the tip into his perfect mouth. Fries wantonly groans as he tastes Oswald. He wants more. He immediately envelops Oswald down to the balls with the velvety heat of his mouth.
Penguin instinctively takes his other hand and licks it deeply. He works his length with one hand and teases his sensitive frenulum with the other.
He imagines the head of his cock bumps the back of Victor’s throat as he thrusts into it. He can practically feel the strong and sure hands grabbing his haunches to pull him in deeper. Victor’s cheeks hollow as he sucks Oswald down hard. He all but hears the appreciative moans and sound his cock makes as it slides in and out of Victor’s hungry mouth.
As Oswald grinds in his chair, his heart hammers and pleasure mounts. His hips stutter and falter. Before his impending climax, he wantonly cries out, “Victor!”
Suddenly, his hitman strides in.
Oswald’s eyes and mouth fly open in shock. He immediately stops and promptly crosses his legs. Face hot with embarrassment, he tries to appear nonchalant, but his brain is addled by alcohol and self-pleasure. All he can do is desperately hope his hands and desk are sufficient to block the sight of his self-abuse. The only retort he can muster is the same one he voiced earlier in the day:
"Knocking, Victor! We talked about this."
Chapter 2: The "Other" Victor
Zsasz interrupts the boss' attempt to unwind.
He tries to make it up to him.
(I think we all know where this is going.)
Zsasz made quick work of Edward’s beat boxers. His very special brand of enhanced interrogation yielded no answers. Apparently, Nygma’s messengers really didn’t know anything. He returns to the boss given Nygma was still on the lam.
Recent threats on Penguin kept him very busy: there was his club opening, the attempted theft of Cobblepot’s black market shipment, Nygma's liberation from the ice, Sofia Falcone’s return to Gotham, and the resulting reemergence of her father’s capos.
On his way back, he catches Fries on his way out. The iceman stops momentarily. He flatly informs Zsasz that Nygma is no longer a threat and promptly leaves.
It’s not that he didn’t trust Fries, but the boss gave the orders. Fries was not the boss. This prompts the ever-vigilant assassin to seek out proof. He’s on heightened alert. He neither sees nor smells any evidence of gunfire or blood. He finds no frozen Nygma. He thoroughly searches the club and listens for any sign of danger.
He finds Oswald’s office door shut. He tiptoes over to ensure nothing’s gone afoul. He presses his ear to it.
He hears music, an occasional mutter, and the familiar sounds of his boss shuffling around. Zsasz concludes he’s alone.
Everything seemed to be in order. He decides to stick around just in case.
After thoroughly checking every dark corner, he stands like a sentinel outside the boss’ door. While he waits, he methodically checks his gun holster and weapons for the umpteenth time that day. His ritual is so deeply ingrained, he performs it without thought.
All the while, he incessantly scans, listens and waits.
Before long, he hears the boss summon him.
Zsasz immediately strides into his boss’ office ready for action. Primed to receive his orders, Victor stands before Penguin —who appears surprised and flustered to see him. While it wasn’t uncommon for the boss to reprimand him for his failure to knock, Zsasz is thrown off by Penguin’s surprise at his entrance.
He furrows his brow in momentary confusion.
Didn’t he just call me?
But Victor knows the devil’s in the details. He regards Oswald fully. He notes the clumsy attempt to hide behind his desk. Strange. The loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt were uncommon, but not out of the ordinary —especially given the bottle of scotch on his desk. Far more curious was his untucked shirt.
Victor subtly raises an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth quickly follows. He barely tilts his head to the side.
Meanwhile, Oswald stammers to explain he meant to summon “the 'other’ Victor”.
Zsasz shrugs and nonchalantly informs Penguin he saw Fries leave. He pretends not to notice Oswald’s state, steps forward and flashes that smile. He earnestly offers his assistance.
”Is there something I can help you with?”
Oswald (still nervously attempting to hide himself) insists.
“No, V-Victor. Really. That, uhh, won’t be necessary.”
Given he was just robbed of an explosive orgasm (in addition to all the scotch he imbibed), the famously quick-witted kingpin was at a loss for words.
“Are you sure, boss? Really. It’s no trouble. I’d be happy to.”
Victor quickly makes his way to the side of Penguin’s desk. The best that the quickly-sobering man can do is make a desperate attempt to shift his back toward his hired gun to avoid exposing himself.
He looks up to find the man standing right beside him —and entirely too close for comfort.
Oswald’s face is flushed from the alcohol and the self-pleasure. His heart hammers in his chest —this time for a very different reason. He blinks rapidly and stammers. Victor interrupts him.
“Boss, I can still —”
“Victor really, I…”
As Oswald tries to explain himself, Victor barely listens. Instead, he gazes down and takes in Oswald’s long lashes and flushed cheeks. Zsasz wonders. Are his eyes blue or are they green? They look different based on what he wears —even his mood.
Penguin’s stammering and nervousness remind him of when he first met the young and soft-faced Cobblepot. Zsasz was under contract with Don Carmine Falcone. Despite finding the diminutive kid attractive, he initially thought little of him. Victor thought he’d easily break given his fidgety nervousness. It didn’t take long for Victor to discover Oswald’s toughness and tenacity. It was enough to garner the hitman’s respect.
For these reasons, he finds Oswald’s embarrassment over his interrupted masturbation surprising —perhaps even a little endearing.
Really. Didn’t everyone do it?
The image of the stammering kingpin reminds him of that fresh-faced kid. Coupled with the sight of his throbbing erection, Victor’s desire stirs.
Oswald continues muddling through a reasonable explanation for needing Fries, when Victor interrupts:
Penguin blinks dumbstruck.
Victor fetches the ice bucket from the bar. He stares unblinkingly at Oswald as he sets it down on the desk.
He grabs Penguin’s arm and hoists him off his throne. Slightly off balance from the booze and sudden change of position, Oswald winces and loses his footing. Victor steadies him with the other hand.
Fortunately, Oswald’s trousers hold fast thanks to his suspenders. However, the very thing Penguin sought to hide reveals itself from between his shirttails. Despite his untucked shirt and exposed erection, the boss remained absurdly put together.
Victor aimed to remedy that.
He looks squarely into his boss’ eyes, then pointedly down for a better look. Impressed, Zsasz pulls the corners of his mouth and nods appreciatively. All the while, he removes his leather gloves.
“Someone’s been busy.”
“I said ‘stop talking’.”
He tosses his gloves on his boss’ desk. They land with a soft slap.
Oswald blinks in confusion as Victor deftly unbuttons his waistcoat. Zsasz slides it from his shoulders, folds it in half and places it atop the back of his chair. All the while, his piercing and impossibly dark eyes study Oswald.
Victor immediately slips his hands beneath the suspender straps and slides them down his arms to dangle freely. Oswald can hardly fathom what’s happening. He’s transfixed by how quickly Victor works.
He doesn't even notice that his unzipped trousers are slowly slipping down his legs. He blinks hard in a futile attempt to focus on Victor’s left hand unbuttoning his shirt while his right hand confidently tugs his tie to remove it.
By the time Oswald’s brain catches up, the assassin has not only removed his tie, but he’s already placed it atop the waistcoat he removed earlier. After unbuttoning Oswald's shirt, he makes no attempt to remove it. Instead, he turns his attention to the cuff links. Once removed, he plops them into the crystal bowl on the expansive desk.
The entire time, he fixes his eyes on Oswald. Zsasz removes his gun holster and deliberately places it towards the far corner of the desk. He removes his jacket and casually tosses it over to a nearby chair. He unbuttons the cuffs of his own sleeves and rolls them up, eyes meticulously cataloging every last one of Oswald’s reactions. He’s particularly interested to see how he will react in a moment.
Predictably, Penguin is entranced by the numerous hash marks that riddle Victor’s forearms. Everyone whispered about the tally marks that recorded Victor's kills. However, the kingpin had neither known anyone who’d witnessed them nor seen them himself (until now). He was captivated by their number, shapes and colors.
Their abundance make him forget his erection and the fact Victor had all but undressed him. Oswald mindlessly reaches to touch them when Zsasz finally speaks.
“So you wanted Fries?”
Before he can answer, Victor suddenly spins Oswald to face away from him. He guides him over his desk.
Oswald hears his henchman reach into the ice bucket. Oswald rests his hands on his desk and steadies himself. He braces himself for whatever is coming.
Oswald has no idea what’s happening behind him. The only thing he knows for certain is that he can hear Victor handling ice cubes and can feel him firmly fix his leg inside his own. Just as Oswald feels himself falter from the alcohol and his contorted leg, Zsasz firmly (but carefully) holds his hip to steady him.
Wait. Is his hand -cold?
Oswald gulps with the realization. He then feels a cold hand on his left shoulder. In fact, it’s so cold he can’t tell if it’s wet or dry against his shirt. If he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t really give a shit.
Meanwhile, Victor slides his hand slowly down Oswald’s shoulder and rubs his shoulder blade. He then nudges his hand underneath his arm to find his armpit. Even with his shirt acting as a barrier, Penguin’s skin erupts in gooseflesh. Victor ventures further to reach his left nipple (now formed into a pink pebble).
He teases it back and forth with the pads of his fingers. When Oswald’s head cranes upward, Victor strums up and down. He gently captures the tip between two of his fingers. When his boss involuntarily shudders, Victor answers with a swift hard pinch.
Victor returns his attention to Oswald’s back. He takes both hands and briefly rests them on his shoulders. Zsasz slowly slips Penguin’s shirt down his arms —ensuring his finger pads maintain contact with the man’s flesh. He notes the pale color, smiles at the gooseflesh he unveils and watches the man shiver.
Zsasz takes the boss' shirt and turns to hang it off the back of his throne, all the while holding him firm with the leg he nestled between his legs. He returns his cold hands to Oswald’s shivering shoulders and leans forward —careful to avoid body contact. He'd love nothing more than to press his body firmly against the boss, but the ice only chilled his hands. It did nothing to alter his core body temperature.
If he couldn't give the boss Fries, he’d provide him the next best thing.
Oswald suddenly feels a cold wet sensation on the left side of his neck.
Victor holds an ice cube carefully in his mouth. He makes contact behind Oswald’s ear, and down his neck. He glides his hands down his arms. Eventually, he reaches for Oswald’s front to explore his abdominals and obliques. He fondles both nipples remembering his earlier shudders and gasps.
Zsasz notices that Oswald has attempted to touch himself. He slaps his hand down and leans in. He scolds Penguin the best he can with an ice cube in his mouth. In a sing-songy tone he whispers close to Oswald's ear:
Oswald startles and swallows.
Victor crouches down so he can better reach Oswald’s lumbar spine. Because it’s the first time he’s ever seen the kingpin exposed in this way, he takes time to study its unusual curvature with his chilly fingertips.
The ice in his mouth is melting quickly. He knows he hasn’t much time.
Decisively, he tugs down Oswald’s boxers and trousers. Penguin audibly groans at the sensation.
Victor moves his attention to the small of Oswald’s back. He then takes the remaining portion of the ice cube and uses it to tease the top of his gluteal cleft.
Oswald gasps and sputters.
By now, Zsasz has slid out from between Oswald’s legs and has firmly settled on his knees. He grabs and holds the ice cubes stored in his pockets and sets to re-chill his warming hands. All the while, he teases all around Oswald's ass. He ventures around and just outside his cleft. With every stroke, he leaves a cold wet trail and an increasingly wrecked man. Oswald gasps from the sensation of cold water dripping slowly down his buttocks and now legs. The fact Victor Zsasz is pleasuring him thrills him even more.
When Victor feels his hands have sufficiently chilled, he dries them on his pant legs before placing them on either side of Oswald’s hips. The ice cube he clenched between his teeth was now melted. Victor swallows —not only because the ice is now water, but because he’s captivated by the sight before him.
Just then, he catches Oswald attempting to touch himself again. Victor quickly grabs his hand.
No one —not even the boss, was about to finish what he started.
Victor Zsasz never stops.
Victor pulls Oswald back around to face him. He employs both hands to better maneuver the dazed kingpin.
Victor finally gets a clearer picture of what he’s working with. Although slight in build, Oswald had an impressive package. He finally gets a perfect view of Oswald’s swollen and ruddy cock. It slowly weeps with precome.
Zsasz reaches between Oswald’s legs in search of his balls. Oswald jumps at the sensation. His hands are so cold. Victor stops momentarily to gaze up at him.
Despite the icy shock, Oswald wants more. He tightly shuts his eyes and nods with resolve. Victor tenderly strokes his balls and considers their weight.
He then reaches for Oswald’s shaft and holds it firmly at the base. Penguin gasps at sensation and temperature. Victor allows him time to adjust. When he feels Oswald keen forward, he guides him into his crisp mouth (thanks to the spent ice cube).
Penguin’s brow knits and his mouth gasps in shock —then pleasure. A quiet curse escapes Oswald’s lips as he pushes into Victor’s mouth.
Oswald opens his eyes to look down at "the ‘other’ Victor” who’s mouthing him. Zsasz emits a moan at the taste of Oswald’s brine.
Oswald’s knees falter. Even with the aid of his desk, the arm of his chair, and Victor’s strong hand, he can barely hold himself up.
Once Victor feels Oswald has been properly lubricated, he makes a spectacle of pulling himself off his cock. He's delighted to have a captive audience.
Oswald gapes down. He can’t believe his eyes. Victor holds his hips fast as he drags his mouth off of him, sucking hard as he pulls back.
Before Zsasz unlatches, he catches his mouth on the head of Penguin’s cock. He painstakingly drags his lips across it before releasing him. He finishes by stroking and teasing the tip with the soft underside of his tongue.
Zsasz returns a hand to Oswald’s cock.
He barely has to work him before Oswald’s stuttering hips reveal just how close he is.
For the second time, Penguin cries out.
Oswald copiously bursts.
This time, there is no question which Victor the boss cried out for.
Victor’s face stretches into a satisfied grin.
That’s more like it.
After all, he does good work.
Given the content, I feel the Joy Division song, “Ice Age”, pairs nicely with this fic (at least the chorus anyway).
One last thing: I dedicate this Zsaszlepot smut to the Instagram user who got all bent outta shape about my Zsaszlepot ship, and pointlessly tried to convince me that my Zsaszy just wasn’t “that type of character”. I can’t thank you enough for the inspiration and motivation.
Chapter 3: No Clear Victor In Sight
Oswald returns home after a surprisingly event-filled day.
He has a lot on his mind.
(If anyone's made it this far, I'm sorry to inform you I've yet to develop a plot.)
Eventually, Oswald’s hips grind to a stop.
He’s completely spent. For a few moments, his mind is blank.
What hits him first is the exhaustion. He pants heavily. With his eyes shut, he can feel the depth of the quaking in his thighs. He finds he can barely stand.
Eventually, the realization hits him. Not only is he standing naked in his office, but he just experienced a spectacular orgasm courtesy of the last person on earth he'd ever imagine: Victor Zsasz.
He opens his eyes and slowly looks down to confirm it wasn’t all some fantasy he conjured like Fries. It wasn’t. Before him, knelt his henchman —having just milked every last drop of him. Oswald blinks in stunned silence.
Victor looks up at him. He takes the hand he used to toss Penguin and studies the mess he made of it. He opens his mouth, flattens his tongue and laps it up with a big appreciative lick as he looks squarely into Oswald’s eyes.
Oswald’s knees buckle.
Victor wipes the remaining residue on the cuff of his pants. He gathers the waist of Oswald’s felled boxers and trousers, lifts them as he rises, and returns them back around his boss' hips.
In a daze, Penguin begins arranging himself into his trousers and fastens them. In the meantime, Victor collects and returns his clothes back to him, reversing the order he used to remove them.
Zsasz begins with his shirt. He slips the sleeves up Oswald’s arms and slides the shirt onto his shoulders. Victor assists Penguin in buttoning it. He scoops the cufflinks out of the bowl and sets to fasten the cuffs. After Penguin tucks his shirt, Victor helps him shrug into his suspenders, and hands him his tie. Finally, he hands the boss his waistcoat.
Not a word is spoken between them. Victor rolls down his sleeves and refastens his cuffs. All the while, he silently watches Penguin methodically knot his tie.
As Oswald performs his ritual, he can’t help but recall when Edward helped him dress during his brief tenure as mayor. His former chief of staff often used the opportunity to review his schedule with him.
Ed oversaw everything. His brilliant mind and meticulous nature ensured no appointment or detail was forgotten. He helped Oswald select his ties as he reviewed his itinerary and schedule. The kingpin found those times profoundly meaningful and loaded with an intimacy he’d never experienced before.
He cherished those moments with Edward. It took every ounce of will he had not to lean into the slightest touches. He stole as many glances as he could of the man he grew to lo—. Oswald, you're doing it again. Stop.
Things seemed so hopeful and full of promise back then —right before it all went to shit.
Oswald never thought he’d experience anything remotely close to that level of intimacy again. Yet, here he was receiving assistance in dressing from Victor Zsasz, who (not five minutes ago) touched him in ways that eclipsed anything he’d ever experienced with Ed.
While his henchman in no way matched Edward’s former mental prowess (did anyone, for that matter?), the man was extraordinary in his own right: extremely dangerous, unusually handsome and lethal. That man stood before him, seeing to the buttons of his waistcoat and smoothing down any wrinkles.
Once finished, Zsasz breaks the silence:
“Fries said Nygma was off the table before he left. I just wanted to confirm.”
Penguin looks up and croaks.
“Y-Yes. That’s correct, Victor. It appears he is no longer a threat.”
Victor answers breezily.
“Then Dybala and Esposito will be driving you tonight. Anything else I can do for you, boss?”
Oswald briefly considers the words “anything else”. He clears his throat and blushes suddenly. His ears feel warm and his neck hot.
“Uhh… No, Victor. Thank you. That, that will be all. Goodnight.”
Victor nonchalantly shrugs.
“Alright. Goodnight, boss.”
He deftly gathers his holster, jacket and gloves. He disappears as quickly as he appeared.
Oswald experiences a dizzying cocktail of emotions as Gotham flies past him on his way home. Fortunately, it gives him an opportunity to rest and physically recover from the surprising way his evening concluded.
He was staggered by the day’s events. Each and every one was significant in its own right —especially Edward’s surrender. Yet, the one that eclipsed them all was the final one that transpired before he left the Iceberg Lounge.
Oswald prided himself on his ability to strategically outthink everyone and predict their actions (as well as reactions). Yet, he would have never predicted in a million years what transpired with Zsasz. He shuddered as he recalled flashes of it. He could still feel Victor’s cool fingertips roaming over his body.
He tried hard to push past the memory of it. Yet every damp sensation he felt behind his ear or thighs, around his popliteal —and especially within his boxers, immediately reminded him. If that weren't enough, the occasional rattle of an ice cube from his limo's fully-stocked wet bar served as a more visceral reminder.
Upon arriving home, Penguin’s drivers see him up to the mansion. They leave him with a guard standing outside the entryway. He, in turn, sees him inside to the bottom of his staircase and leaves him to hobble up the stairs alone. Once the guard hears Penguin's bedroom door click close, he returns back outside.
Oswald finds his customary pot of lapsang souchong waiting for him. Its smoky bouquet fills the room. He hobbles passed it and makes his way to his wardrobe.
As he disrobes, his thoughts turn to Zsasz. He fingers each article of clothing and recalls how Victor also handled each and every one. His mind still reeled from it. After removing his clothes in a daze, he heads for his bathroom to perform his nightly ablutions.
He starts the shower faucet in preparation to bathe himself. It's always a struggle to step inside, thanks to the deep ache in his right glute and the constant radiating pain down his iliotibial band. All that, combined with his ravaged right knee, shin and foot, required him to take extra care upon entering.
Once he settles into the warmth of the running water, he relaxes and reaches for his favorite soap. Its scent is rich with cypress and myrrh. As he washes himself in a trance, he traverses the same areas Victor did. He eventually finishes and steps from the shower. He grabs a thick towel to dry himself.
He makes his way to the mirror and wipes the steam from it. He's somewhat surprised to see his own face. Given the night's events, he half-expected to see someone else staring back at him. He brushes his teeth, and settles into his pajamas and robe.
Oswald leaves the bathroom and a cypress-scented steam follows him. He heads for his tea tray, but the mere thought of pouring himself a cup of tea exhausts him. Instead, he crawls into bed and immediately falls asleep. Before long, he begins to dream.
In his dream, he and Mr. Penn conduct their daily Pax Penguina briefing in his office. Mr. Penn informs him that compliance is at 90%, and climbing. Penguin is still disatisfied that compliance isn’t higher given the fact they eliminated the last of the Falcone family's holdouts. He dismisses Mr. Penn and asks him to send in Victor on his way out.
Mr. Penn makes his way towards the door and stops. Before walking out, he turns to face Penguin and nervously clears his throat.
“Which one, Mr. Cobblepot?”
Oswald begins to answer, but huffs when he realizes he doesn’t know. He informs Mr. Penn to disregard his request, and he’ll see to it himself. Mr. Penn anxiously leaves.
Penguin hobbles to the bar in his office to pour himself a drink. His back is to his office door when he hears a knock. He assumes Mr. Penn has returned with another question. Instead, he hears Zsasz’s voice.
“Did you want to see me, boss?”
Penguin swallows as he remembers their recent encounter. As he holds the bottle in his hand, he prepares himself to broach the subject with him. When he turns to address him, Victor suddenly adds.
“Or did you want Fries?”
Penguin turns around to see Zsasz pointing over his leather-clad shoulder. In walks Victor Fries without his cryosuit. Instead, he wears the same ensemble he wore when he and Ivy tracked him down: a pair of chinos.
Oswald looks up at both men. Not only is he baffled by the absent cryosuit, but finds himself unable to choose. He opens and closes his mouth absently, but no answer comes out.
Fries closes the door behind them and both his Victors approach. Penguin stares slack-jawed up at Fries’ expansive trunk, while Zsasz makes his way beside him. He leans in and places his lips so close to Oswald’s ear, he can feel his breath. With his lips barely grazing him, Zsasz asks suggestively.
“Or did you want both of us?”
Oswald blinks and swallows. He nods his head sheepishly in agreement.
Penguin turns to see Zsasz look to Fries. He quickly tilts his head and subtly raises his eyebrows back towards Oswald, signalling the man to take action. It’s not unlike the way Zsasz motions for his men to carry out a task. It’s wordless, decisive and authoritative.
While Fries approaches Oswald, Zsasz removes the forgotten liquor bottle from his hand and returns it to the bar. Penguin hears Zsasz remove and toss down his leather gloves, before he returns to settle back behind him.
Penguin stands mouth agape, when Fries moves in for an open-mouthed kiss. He loses himself in it and explores Fries’ pecs. He reaches up further and rests his fingertips on his clavicles to explore their hollows. Meanwhile Fries pushes his tongue further into his mouth.
Through the haze of the hungry kiss, he can feel Zsasz settle firmly behind him. He’s already begun unbuttoning his waistcoat and tugging at his tie to remove it. Victor is pressed so close behind him, Oswald can feel him harden. This excites him and prompts him to slowly descend a hand downward to palm Fries through his pants. Fries moans into his mouth.
Oswald feels Zsasz pull his waistcoat and suspenders down his arms. Penguin briefly removes his hand from Fries just long enough to allow Zsasz to remove them. His forgotten suspenders dangle freely.
Fries unbuttons Oswald’s shirt, while Zsasz reaches past Penguin’s arm to explore the front of his pants. He finds him half hard. He firmly rubs him through his pants, and slowly presses further into him from behind. Zsasz remarks in a low and throaty voice.
“You feel good, boss.”
Before he can turn to look at Zsasz, Fries untucks his shirt from his pants. He then turns his attention to his cuffs to remove Oswald’s cufflinks. Once unfastened, Fries slowly removes his shirt. He then pulls one of the kingpin’s wrists to his mouth and licks the inside of it. Oswald knits his eyebrows and opens his mouth with pleasure.
Oswald can vaguely feel the tug as Zsasz unfastens and unzips his trousers. He reaches past the waistband of Penguin’s boxers, and glides his fingers down to fondle the tip of his cock. He gently spreads the beaded precome around his frenulum with the pads of his fingers. When he feels his boss shudder, he slides his hand down further and wraps it around the base. Penguin moans and pushes his hips back in an attempt to rub against Zsasz.
In front of him, Fries removes Oswald’s wrist from his mouth. He glides his hand down and takes the kingpin's fingertips into his mouth to suck. Afterwards, he removes them and allows Oswald's fingers to drag downward and lightly catch his bottom lip, then settle down to his chin.
Oswald can’t help but pause briefly to explore its cleft. Before long, Victor continues to guide it down further, past his pecs and his abdominals, and down inside the front of his pants. Oswald gasps to discover how firm and large Fries is. As he explores him, Victor unbuttons his chinos to allow him unfettered access.
While Penguin explores Fries’ girth, he hears Zsasz remove his holster and leather jacket, as well as unbuckle and unzip his own pants. Zsasz returns to explore Oswald’s nipples and reach down to his abdominals. He glides his hands back to touch his obliques, and descends down to his hips. He painstakingly slides down Penguin’s trousers and silk boxers. He can feel Victor’s firm touch glide down his thighs. Oswald shudders at the sensation. It’s distracting enough to briefly stop him from touching Fries.
Meanwhile, Fries lowers his pants to match Oswald’s state of undress. He stands before Oswald. If the kingpin thought Victor Fries was a sight to behold before, it was nothing compared to what he saw now. He had an unobstructed view of his length and girth, all against a breathtaking backdrop of beautifully defined abdominals and quads. Victor Fries was the stuff of dreams.
Penguin stands mouth agape at the sight before him. He feels Zsasz explore his lower back behind him. His mouth is so close he can feel his hot breath on his haunches. Victor flicks out his tongue to tease around his ass, and even takes a playful nip at his bottom. Oswald jumps and gasps at the sensation. He loses his footing and reaches out to steady himself on the nearby chair he has for his guests. He can feel the hairs all over his body rise in response to Victor’s teasing.
Oswald feels Zsasz stand behind him and guide him closer to the low-backed chair. When Zsasz’s cock grazes him from behind, Penguin moans. Victor then very deliberately slides his hand down Penguin’s buttock and down his hamstrings. He stops just above his knee, and takes a firm grasp. He carefully lifts Oswald’s knee atop the seat of the guest chair. All the while, he holds Oswald’s left hip fast with his sure grip and leg anchored behind him.
Penguin briefly worries about the precarious position he’s in, but it’s quickly forgotten when he feels Fries return his hand back to his forgotten length. Soon, Oswald hears the faint pop of a bottle. He looks up at Fries, who smiles at whatever’s taking place behind him.
Soon, he feels Zsasz's finger tease the entrance of his gluteal cleft. He gasps at the sensation. He swallows and pauses for a moment. He then nods and leans forward to allow him better access. Victor breaches him and gently slips in. Soon, he expertly teases him and adds another finger, followed by another. As Oswald loses himself in the sensation, he feels Fries clasp his hand over his own and encourages him to stroke him more. Fries moans with pleasure.
Eventually, Oswald forgets himself. Merely stroking Fries isn't enough. He carefully descends in an attempt to better reach Fries. He uses his forearm to brace himself on the low back of the chair, so he can lower his head and take Fries into his mouth. As he does, his ass rises higher —providing Zsasz a spectacular view and better access to his tight heat. He moans appreciatively. Oswald takes Fries’ girth into his mouth and Fries shudders with pleasure. Soon after, Penguin feels Zsasz remove his fingers, and feels the blunt head of his cock slowly push into him. Penguin tries to gasp, but his mouth is full.
Before long, Oswald loses himself between his two Victors. Both push and pull further in and out of him. Fries' abdominals and quads flex as he slips in and out of his mouth. He feels Victor's hand gently caress his face. Meanwhile, Zsasz has managed to locate that nerve bundle deep within Oswald that will soon send him to oblivion. Victor grunts as he thrusts into him, taking him closer and closer. This prompts Oswald to suck Fries harder with reckless abandon.
Just then, he feels Zsasz reach around to stroke him in the same rhythm he uses to fuck him. Oswald begins to feel that familiar warm sensation gather low and deep within him. It begins to spread and he feels himself lose control of his hips.
Through the haze of his wanton bliss, Penguin swears he hears something.
Did someone just say, “Mr. Cobblepot?”
He opens his eyes to search for the sound.
In the doorway of his office stands Mr. Penn with his appointment book in hand. His mouth is open in shock.
Behind him stands a wide-eyed Edward Nygma. He slowly reaches his hand up to his open mouth. He swallows and croaks.
Penguin wakes up with a start.
He hears Olga knocking on his bedroom door announcing his breakfast and morning tea will be served in 30 minutes.
Given Oswald's reckless abandon and in keeping with the spirit of tradition, I feel Joy Division's classic hit “She’s Lost Control Again” is the perfect pairing for this installment.
Now, I've gotta go make myself a pot of lapsang souchong. I think I deserve it.
And, by the way, for those of you who regularly write this stuff, I tip my hat to you. I'm having a blast writing it, but it's hard work —especially when you don't have a beta reader! Cross your fingers, eyes, legs and arms. I may have a couple more ideas before I wrap up this tawdry tale about our Penguin and his two Victors.
Love, peace and chicken grease!
Chapter 4: Viktor Bey Nakht
Oswald wants to discuss his encounter with Zsasz.
(Yeah, you guessed it. I still have no plot. If I write future fics, I might need to consider looking into the whole plot thing.)
Oswald wakes breathless —his mind still reeling from his dream. He looks down to find his cock straining against the fabric of his pajama pants.
Despite the fact Olga had ceased knocking on his bedroom door and begun her descent downstairs, he instinctively covers himself. Only after he hears her arrive at the landing, does he relax.
Penguin hoists himself out of bed and limps to the bathroom. He starts the shower faucet and waits for a suitable temperature. He steps in, grabs his cypress soap, lathers his hands, and commences to deal with the unexpected issue that arose during the night.
He closes his eyes to conjure his interrupted dream (minus Mr. Penn and Ed). On second thought, why not Ed? Let him watch! He envisions Fries in all his glory, and then imagines Zsasz pounding into him. Before long, all he can do is think of their encounter in his office.
When he remembers the feel of Victor’s mouth, his nipples harden and he tosses himself with increased vigor. His brow knits when he remembers how long Zsasz took to pull off of him. He mimics the long drag with his hand. Soon, he’s thrusting uncontrollably. Oswald closes his eyes, opens his mouth and cranes his head back. He comes long and hard. The hot ropes swirl down the drain with the soapy water.
Once his shuddering ceases, he takes a moment to collect himself. He turns off the shower and steps out to dry. After he brushes his teeth, he reaches for his hair product to style himself.
Penguin’s vanity always required an inordinate amount of effort. However, given the previous night’s events and the certainty of seeing Zsasz again, he takes even longer to groom and select the day’s ensemble.
After great deliberation and dismissing several selections, he finally settles upon a purple silk brocade tie with hot pink accents and gold flourishes. His pocket square features the same colors. He selects iolite cufflinks to finish his black shirt and black houndstooth suit.
He finally makes his way downstairs to the dining room. Penguin repeatedly checks his hair and tie. None of this goes unnoticed by Olga. She hasn’t seen Mr. Oswald fuss this much over his appearance since his mayoral campaign and tenure when he had eyes for that regrettable Mr. Edward. If all that weren’t enough, the famously ravenous Penguin barely touches his food or Ceylon tea before leaving.
As she gathers the dishes he leaves behind, she recalls the elaborate meal she prepared for Mr. Oswald and Mr. Edward. She hopes she doesn’t have to see another one go to waste, or worse: to find a forgotten Mr. Oswald alone and waiting again.
When Penguin arrives at the club, he experiences simultaneous exhilaration and dread. He steels himself to walk in. Zsasz and Mr. Penn are waiting for him. Mr. Penn checks his paperwork and watch. Victor sits as he customarily does: casually slouched on a barstool leaning to one side like a bored teenager.
Oswald apologizes for his tardiness. Mr. Penn assures him it’s no trouble. Zsasz simply shrugs.
“You’re the boss.”
He hops off his seat, tilts his head and dramatically waves the boss forward in playful deference.
Penguin normally feels secure on his own turf. Today is the exception. When they walk into his office, he can’t help but recall his encounter with Zsasz that took place there mere hours prior.
The kingpin hobbles to his desk. He places his hands atop it to steady himself before sitting. When he does, he immediately remembers how Victor guided him over it and teased him. He swallows and looks up to see Zsasz silently watching him with a frustratingly unreadable expression.
Penguin and Mr. Penn forego their Pax Penguina briefing given recent events and pending the possibility of future public appearances with Sofia Falcone. Instead, they discuss collections and the club’s operation expenditures. All the while, the kingpin sits and fidgets nervously with his tie and pocket square in an effort to decide if he should look at Zsasz or avoid eye contact.
As their meeting winds down, Mr. Penn finishes his glass of icewater and sets it down. The jostling ice cubes make Penguin squirm. Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupts. Penguin furtively glances at Zsasz when he steps outside to address it.
After a few moments, he returns and quickly makes his way to Penguin’s side. Oswald feels simultaneous thrill and nervousness as he leans in to whisper in his ear. Victor smells like leather and tobacco —with the faintest hint of sandalwood. He stands so close, Penguin swears Victor can hear his pounding heart.
Victor informs him there are some Pax Penguina non-compliers he needs to see about. Penguin is unsure whether to be disappointed or relieved. He nods and Victor takes his leave.
Hours pass. Outside, Gotham twinkles in her evening finery. Although the Iceberg Lounge no longer features its infamous centerpiece, throngs of people line up outside. Many attempt to gain entry into the exclusive club in hopes of glimpsing its underworld proprietor (and former mayor) or other Gotham elite —like Gotham’s favorite son, billionaire Bruce Wayne.
Penguin makes his customary rounds. He notes those who visit and those who don’t. He pays special attention to those who fail to appropriately grovel or show him the respect he deserves. He finally spies Victor (who’s been busy a good part of the day).
Zsasz lurks in a quiet corner. He continuously scans the room keeping a watchful eye on patrons and staff alike. Occasionally, he directs his muscle to see to any potential problems with his subtle cues.
Penguin greets and visits with prestigious and well-moneyed patrons. Occasionally, he catches Victor looking at him. He tries to appear unaffected, but he is not. He preens when he makes eye contact or feels Victor staring.
Unlike Penguin’s nervous flashiness, Zsasz is barely detectable. His manner is not unlike the reptile whose skin he wears for a vest: motionless and unnoticeable with indecipherable eyes —right until his hapless prey finds itself in his jaws.
Victor was undeniably and unusually handsome. His opacity and menace only added to his dark appeal. But prior to their surprise encounter, Penguin only thought of him as a proficient torturer and accomplished executioner. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking of Victor in ways he never considered before.
Oswald finally sees an opportunity to approach him. Zsasz greets him with his customary nonchalance.
Oswald blinks and his face flushes.
“Good evening, Victor. I was hoping you could drive me home tonight. There’s a matter about which I’d like to speak with you privately.”
Zsasz affably nods.
“Sure thing, chief.”
Just then, one of Victor’s men walks up and apologizes to Mr. Cobblepot for the intrusion. He leans in to whisper to Victor who listens and nods. Zsasz then turns to inform his boss he has to “wrap up that thing from earlier”, but assures him they’ll talk later. He abruptly strides out.
The night stretches into the wee hours of morning and the club closes. Victor has yet to return. When Esposito and Dybala approach him, he knows their chat will have to wait. They inform him Zsasz is still tending to business and apologize on his behalf. Penguin nods and follows the men to the car. He nurses his disappointment on the ride home. His drivers and guard see him inside upon his return to the mansion.
When Oswald arrives at the top of the darkened stairs, he hears a familiar voice.
Victor is leaning against the wall outside his bedroom door.
“Victor. I-I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Didn’t you need to see me?”
“Y-yes, I… I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening since you had your men drive me.”
“Yeah. My guys had trouble convincing some clowns they couldn’t operate without a license, but they’re on board now. I saw to it myself.”
Zsasz’s face stretches into that smile. He casually shrugs and continues.
“Turns out they weren’t far from here, so I figured I’d meet you here instead.”
Oswald shakes his head, shrugs and exhales a nervous laugh. “Of course.”
He touches his hair and smooths down his tie. He nervously makes his way towards Zsasz and his bedroom. He reaches for the doorknob and pauses momentarily to take a breath. He opens the door and motions for Victor to step inside.
Zsasz steps in and looks around the sumptuous room with red and gold damask bedding. A fire crackles. He pulls down the corners of his mouth and nods in approval. Penguin watches him in the firelight, and suddenly becomes acutely aware that Victor Zsasz is standing in his bedroom. His face feels hot.
Penguin sees Victor’s eyes widen when he spies the dark chocolate tea cakes with ganache that Olga paired with his evening tea. Oswald extends his hand and graciously offers.
“Please. Help yourself.”
Victor smiles and plops himself down at the end of the fainting couch in the seating area of his room. He immediately reaches for a tea cake and bites into it.
Penguin blinks rapidly remembering the last time he heard Victor make that very sound. After Oswald collects himself, he sees his henchman motion to the teapot in a petition for tea. Penguin smiles. “Of course.” Victor immediately pours himself a cup. Its smoky aroma fills the air.
Oswald removes his jacket and hangs it up. He makes his way to a chair to sit, but Zsasz taps beside him signalling Penguin to join him on the couch. He smiles nervously and timidly takes a seat. All the while, Victor enjoys the chocolate cakes and smoky tea with unbidden sighs and appreciative moans.
Penguin observes Victor’s every movement with rapt attention. He’s entranced by the way he consumes the indulgences. He watches his jaw flex and clench when he chews, and tracks the descent of his adam’s apple when he swallows. All of it stirs Oswald.
Before consuming the last tea cake, Victor suddenly remembers himself. He stops and turns to Penguin.
“I’m sorry, boss. Did you want some?”
Oswald blushes. “No, Victor really, I —”
“No, really. You have to try one. They’re delicious.”
The kingpin holds his hand up and shakes his head in polite refusal, but Victor persists. He holds the tea cake up to his mouth. Oswald relents and shyly opens. Victor slowly inserts as much of the cake as he can into his mouth. When Oswald notices that Zsasz subtly opens his own eyes and mouth with him, he blushes and blinks wildly.
Oswald bites down. The cake’s rich dark chocolate and sweet ganache is delectable. Victor watches Penguin savor the flavor with knit brow and an appreciative moan as he chews. After he swallows, Victor offers him the last of the indulgence. Feeling somewhat emboldened, Oswald looks into Victor’s eyes as he opens his mouth to accept his offering.
Penguin closes his eyes and relishes the rich flavor. When he opens them, he finds Victor leaning toward him and intently staring at his mouth. Without thinking, Penguin leans closer to Victor and shocks himself by kissing the man.
Zsasz fails to respond.
Chagrined at his miscalculated liberty, Penguin immediately pulls back and begins to apologize profusely.
“I’m sorry, Victor. I-I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive my indiscretion. That, that was uncalled for. I sincerely hope you can —”
“But I thought you and Fries...”
Oswald’s face blanks momentarily. He emphatically shakes his head no.
“Fries? No! That was all just —well…”
Penguin’s face grows hot from embarrassment as he stammers.
“That was just... fantasy. Besides, given his particular ‘condition’, it’s not like I could....”
Penguin emits a loud sigh and deflates. He looks down and confesses despite himself.
“I’m sorry, Victor. All of this is very difficult for me to admit. I’m afraid I have no idea what I’m doing. I really don’t have a lot of experience in these types of matters. I can’t say I’ve found myself in this particular situation before…”
Zsasz’s face subtly quirks with confusion, then understanding. He narrows his gaze and tilts his head incredulously.
“You mean you and Nygma never…?”
Oswald flushes and stammers with embarrassment.
“Edward? No. No, Victor. Edward and I never —”
Penguin never finishes his painful admission because he suddenly finds Zsasz’s mouth on his own. Victor sucks in a huge breath, and wraps an arm around Oswald to pull him close. He opens his mouth wider and probes his tongue deeply into Oswald’s mouth. Penguin softly whimpers. Victor tastes like chocolate and smoke.
Penguin melts into Victor’s mouth. Zsasz envelops him and slowly maneuvers him back onto the lounge. Oswald complies and sinks back. Victor turns his attention to Penguin’s neck and ear. He takes his earlobe between his teeth and pulls.
Penguin pulls the straps of Zsasz’s gun holster to draw him closer. The instant Zsasz feels the tug, he immediately stops. He stands and shrugs himself out of it and carefully places it on the nearby chair. He removes his leather jacket to place alongside it. Its weight wafts the faintest scent of tobacco and sandalwood. All the while, he watches Oswald who stares in disbelief.
Zsasz returns to the Penguin. He reaches beneath Oswald’s calf, pulls him recumbent on the couch and settles himself between his legs.
Victor tugs at Penguin’s tie to loosen and painstakingly pull it from his collar. He unbuttons the top two buttons of Oswald’s black shirt and licks the ivory skin he reveals beneath. Oswald’s brow knits and mouth opens in surprise.
Victor then looks intently into Oswald’s eyes, then pointedly down to his torso. He returns his eyes to Oswald’s waiting for a response. Oswald nods eagerly with bated breath. Victor kisses and nips down his neck. Zsasz teases the hollows of his collarbone with his tongue.
Oswald loses himself in each sensation. He gasps and shudders involuntarily with every kiss, lick and nip. He finds his hips undulating in an attempt to rub himself against Victor. Before long, he feels himself stiffen from the friction. He gulps with the realization.
Victor unbuttons Oswald’s waistcoat and shirt to reveal more of his trembling skin. His hand traverses Oswald’s pecs and alights upon one of his nipples. He first teases it with his fingerpads, then with his mouth. He flicks the taut skin back and forth with the soft underside of his tongue, and then teases it with his front teeth. Penguin watches wide-eyed.
Zsasz works his way downward and kisses his obliques and abdominals. As Victor descends further past his navel, he licks the faint trail of black hair that disappears into Penguin’s trousers. Oswald’s erection becomes painfully obvious. The sight of it prompts Zsasz’s mouth to slowly stretch into a wide smile.
Victor slides off the kingpin to stand again. He maintains eye contact with him as he unbuttons his own shirt and unfastens his cuffs. Penguin is transfixed as he slowly reveals himself and hangs his shirt off the back of the fainting couch.
The firelight illuminates the landscape of his upper body. The warm light flickers over the numerous tally marks. Victor spies Oswald noticing the three fresh cuts on his right pec, just below his collarbone. He points to them and smiles proudly.
“I had to make some examples for you today.”
Penguin’s breath hitches.
Zsasz returns to Oswald, who moans when their skin makes contact. Victor catches his open mouth in his own and kisses him deeply. Oswald explores as many tally marks as he can on the warm skin —including the three fresh ones.
Oswald feels the fresh cuts weep beneath his fingertips. Victor pushes further into his mouth and moans, then pulls back to take his bloodied fingers into his mouth to suck. Victor ruts into Penguin and his length hardens.
When Zsasz removes Penguin’s fingers from his mouth, he looks down at Oswald’s shirt, suspenders and waistcoat.
“Can we please do something about these?”
Penguin nods eagerly. Zsasz immediately rises above him and extends his hand.
Penguin takes it and stands with him. Victor removes his iolite cufflinks, and places them on the teatray. He helps him shrug out of his shirt, waistcoat and suspenders and tosses them to the fainting couch.
Victor pulls Oswald in for a bruising kiss. Penguin slowly wraps his arms around Victor and presses as much of his body as he can against his henchman. Oswald first timidly explores his toned back, and slowly descends to his hips. His desire prompts him to span further and take as much of Zsasz’s haunches as he can into his hands. He moans at the feel of the man’s strong glutes.
Oswald soon finds himself rubbing against Victor. He yearns to explore more of Zsasz’s body and brazenly reaches to palm him through his pants. Unbidden, he whispers.
“Victor, I want you.”
Victor looks down at Penguin with his impossibly dark eyes.
“Which Victor do you want?”
“You, Victor. I want you, Victor Zsasz.”
Before Penguin registers what’s happening, Victor squats down to wrap his arms below his waist and hoists him up. He looks up at Penguin as he walks him over to his bed and plops him down on it. He crouches to remove Oswald’s shoes and unlace his boots.
When he stands, Zsasz toes off his boots and immediately unfastens and unzips Oswald’s trousers, before tending to his own. He watches Oswald as he slowly unbuckles and unfastens himself. He slides off his pants and black boxer briefs. He unabashedly stands nude before Oswald —who gapes at the entirety of his scarred and well-tallied body. His sizable erection is impossible to ignore.
Zsasz leans into Penguin to kiss him deeply and reach into his boxers. The kingpin moans and shudders. His bashful responsiveness unravels Victor’s restraint. He removes his hand from Penguin and impatiently tugs his boxers and trousers down his legs.
Victor ascends the bed atop Oswald causing their erections to touch. They both look down and rut against each other. Victor leans into Oswald and captures his earlobe between his teeth, biting harder than the last time. After releasing it, he presses his lips close. Oswald feels the heat of Zsasz’s breath as he growls.
Oswald complies immediately.
Victor straddles Penguin who moans when he feels the assassin’s thighs and testicles against his haunches. Zsasz explores Penguin’s body with his hands. He leans down to lick a stripe down his neck and explores the man’s shoulders with his teeth.
Zsasz’s swollen cock lightly thuds against Oswald’s ass and leaves a faint trail as he slides down his body. The kingpin moans and shudders in response to the sensation and begins rutting into the bed. He reaches down and attempts to pleasure himself.
Suddenly, Oswald feels a swift hard smack on his ass. He cries out in shock. Beads of sweat cover his back. Victor leans down and tsks into his ear.
“Oh no, boss. I don’t think you understand how this works. Just so we’re clear: only I get to touch you.”
“Do I make myself clear?”
Another hard smack.
In a sing-songy voice:
“I can’t hear you.”
“Y-Y-Yes, Victor. I understand.”
“I-I-I understand that only Victor gets to touch me.”
“V-V-Victor Zsasz. Only Victor Zsasz gets to touch me.”
Victor’s mouth stretches into a big wolfy smile. He leans into Oswald’s ear and emits a low throaty chuckle.
“That’s more like it.”
Victor continues teasing Oswald. He slinks further down the man ensuring his cock remains in contact with some part of his body. He flicks his tongue across the angry raised welts he left on Penguin’s lovely pale haunches and nips around his cleft.
Oswald squirms and gasps. He discreetly tries to rub himself against the bed in search of relief for his aching cock, but only earns himself another blow. Penguin breaks out into another sweat. Zsasz continues his torment. He intentionally nestles his cock in Oswald’s cleft as he leans into his ear.
“Who’s the only one who gets to touch the Penguin?”
Oswald whispers. “You.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“Y-Y-You. V-V-Victor. Victor Zsasz. Only Victor Zsasz touches me.”
“That’s right. Now turn over. I want to look at you.”
Victor dismounts Oswald allowing him to turn over.
Penguin turns over to face Zsasz who looms over him with a hungry stare. His chest heaves and his ass smarts from Zsasz’s stinging blows. Oswald looks at Victor, who smiles down at his painfully swollen cock. Zsasz then locks eyes with Penguin and leans down to take as much of the man as he can into his mouth.
Penguin ruts involuntarily into his henchan’s mouth. However, after a only few thrusts, Victor slowly drags his mouth off of him. He kisses the tip of Oswald’s cock and smiles up at him.
“I’ll be right back."
Victor starts to leave, then suddenly stops. He turns and fixes the kingpin with a gaze that pins him in his place. He sternly adds.
"Don't move a muscle.”
Victor climbs off the bed and returns to his jacket. Oswald stares as he bends over to search its pockets. The firelight accentuates his glutes, quads and hamstrings. Until now, Oswald never noticed how strong and defined Zsasz’s legs were.
Zsasz turns to see Oswald gaping at his body and smiles. He returns to the bed and playfully jiggles a small bottle of lube.
“Gotta make sure I keep the boss happy.”
When he joins Penguin, he tightly embraces him and suddenly rolls them both over. Oswald is stunned to find himself atop Victor, who smiles and folds his hands behind his head to watch him.
Penguin first adjusts his hip and knee for greater comfort. He then touches Victor’s scars: some faint, others darker. Most were smooth, some keloidal. Despite their distinct appearances, each signified a death. While Oswald had an impressive body count of his own, it paled in comparison to that of the man beneath him.
The thought of Victor’s kills thrilled Penguin. He soon begins grinding against him. Before long, Oswald attempts to touch himself, but stops when he feels Zsasz suddenly pull his hand out from behind his head. Since Oswald can’t touch himself, he attempts to distract himself in another manner.
He hoists himself off Victor to maneuver beside him. He gets on all fours to take him into his mouth. What Penguin lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm. Oswald reaches for the base of Victor’s dick and envelops as much of it as possible with his mouth.
He moans at the taste. Even the normally collected Zsasz elicits the slightest groan and subtly pumps into the delicious heat of Oswald’s mouth. This emboldens Penguin to encourage more of the same. He bobs, sucks and moans as he swallows Victor deeper. Zsasz soon begins pumping more into Oswald’s mouth. Penguin couldn’t be more pleased.
As he sucks Victor, he feels Zsasz begin to sit up and grab one of his legs to pull up toward him. He soon hears his small bottle of lube open and feels Victor tease at his opening. Oswald stills momentarily, then nods in approval.
Victor carefully slides a digit inside. He rubs and teases until he feels Oswald relax and sigh. He adds another. At first, the additional intrusion almost feels too much, but Penguin gradually relaxes into it and sucks Victor with increased enthusiasm.
Victor’s pumping becomes more pronounced. He tries inserting a third finger, but Penguin stops altogether. When he does, Zsasz sits up to pull Oswald up close to him on the bed. He rolls him on his back and descends to pleasure him.
Penguin’s erection holds fast against his body. Before Zsasz takes him into his mouth, he licks inside of Oswald’s inguinal crease to tease him. Oswald thrusts upward shamelessly offering himself to Victor. Rather than take the desperate man into his mouth, Zsasz strokes and teases Oswald’s inner thighs and caresses his balls with his fingers and tongue. He slowly descends his fingers downward in preparation to enter Penguin again.
He slides his two fingers in. Only after he feels Oswald push into them and begin rocking, does he take him into his mouth. Penguin shudders and closes his eyes the moment Zsasz closes in around him. He pushes his head back against the bed and twists the bedding in his hands. As he does, Victor slides in his third digit so Oswald can either rut into his mouth or press back onto his fingers. Before long, Penguin’s hips move hungrily between the two.
When Zsasz feels Penguin’s abdominals and thighs tighten and flex with increased eagerness, he pulls himself off and out of Oswald. Penguin huffs in frustration, but soon feels Victor position himself between his legs. He looks down to see Victor staring straight at him as he lubricates his cock. Penguin moans with anticipation.
Victor grabs Oswald’s calves to pull him closer and positions himself right at Penguin’s entrance. Zsasz slowly breaches him. It’s almost too much. Penguin breathes deeply and gradually relaxes into the burn as Victor stretches him —sinking further and further inside him.
Victor wants nothing more than to plunge immediately into Penguin’s tight heat. Instead, he slowly pushes in and pulls out of him savoring every drag. Gradually, Oswald opens his eyes and nods up at the unblinking Zsasz. Only then does Victor begin pumping him with increasing vigor. Penguin moans and nods as he knits his brow in pleasure. His swollen and pouty lips form a lovely “o”.
Zsasz down smiles at the beautiful disaster below him. Penguin’s hair is mussed and his cheeks are flushed. His jaw is slack and pupils blown wide beneath hooded eyes.
He feels smug satisfaction at being balls deep in the notorious king of Gotham —a man both feared for his ruthless savagery and known for his unique and distinctive style. That man was now the bashful and acquiescent mess he was currently fucking.
The thought of it all prompts Zsasz to pound harder into Penguin. Before long, he finds that nerve bundle nestled deep inside the kingpin who cries out in a ragged voice. Zsasz grunts as he thrusts harder into Oswald —who gives himself over to the sensation welling deep inside him.
Penguin reaches to touch himself. His mercenary grabs his hand in a vise-like grip and continues slamming into him.
“Who’s the only one who gets to touch the Penguin?”
Oswald can barely speak.
“V-V-Victor. Victor Zsasz. Please, Victor.”
“Please Victor what?”
Penguin softly pleads.
“Please, Victor. Touch me.”
“Why do you want me to touch you?”
“Because I want to come.”
Zsasz grabs Oswald’s cock. The force of his thrusts push it in and out of his hand. Penguin’s hips stutter and quake. He cries out as he spasms and copiously erupts below his enforcer.
Victor’s face slowly stretches into self-satisfied smile.
Eller (being another big Zsaszy fan), I had you in mind when I wrote this, cupcake. I hope you find it to your liking.
This chapter wound up being far longer than I anticipated. I think I experienced a little of that “mission creep” Alfred warned Master B about.
The truth is, I just wanted Oswald to get some since he never gets any on the show, and I wanted Victor to get some too (especially some baked goods for goodness sake. Is that too much to ask, people?). Oh and I miss Olga! What happened to her?
Oh, and those chocolate tea cakes? They weren’t just about my Zsaszy. They were also a nod to the ridiculously talented and wonderful Lyrae_Immortalis and their amazing “Stitch In Time” AU fic. If you haven’t read it: do it! It’s amazing! (You are my f*cking hero! *Waves excitedly*) Wait! I just remembered Eller’s adorable Zsaszlepot fic, “Dessert”. Check it out, y’all.
Regarding the title, I wanted to do something like “Victor at Night” or “Nocturne/Nocturnal Victor” or something, but it all sounded kinda lame. Then, when I found out Victor was outta town visiting his bubbie during ep 4x07, I found my answer. (Penguin’s visible disappointment with his mercenary’s absence was not lost on me.) Okay seriously, y’all. I’m a gentile. I looked that title up. If anyone out there actually reads this and knows better, please let me know so I can fix it.
You know I’m gonna select a Joy Division song for this installment. I’m thinking “Heart and Soul”:
“An abyss that laughs at creation,
A circus complete with all fools,
Foundations that lasted the ages,
Then ripped apart at their roots.
Beyond all this good is the terror,
The grip of a mercenary hand,
When savagery turns all good reason
There’s no turning back, no last stand.
Heart and soul, one will burn
Heart and soul, one will burn...”
Chapter 5: Cold Hard Victory
Zsasz has a surprise for Penguin.
(Plot? What plot?)
Oswald forgets everything. He surrenders himself completely to the sensation pulsing out of him. His entire body quakes as it washes over him.
Eventually, he regains his senses and awareness of Zsasz’s carnal rhythm. He opens his eyes and finds Victor staring down at him. His face is split wide in a wolfy smile.
Victor removes his hand from Oswald’s cock and reaches under his thighs. He effortlessly lifts his legs and places them against his chest. He holds them fast with one arm and leans down to anchor himself with the other.
Zsasz hungrily pistons in and out of Oswald. It doesn’t take long before his rhythm stutters. He closes his eyes, throws his head back and finishes with a guttural moan and a long, protracted push into Oswald.
When his thrusting ceases, he returns Oswald’s legs to either side of him and tents his torso over him. Penguin is utterly spent. Victor appears just slightly winded.
Zsasz leans down and nudges Oswald’s lips open with his own, and carefully (almost tenderly) disengages himself from the kingpin. Penguin furrows his brow and emits a soft whimper as he does.
Victor smiles that smile and presses his forehead against Oswald’s. Suddenly, he gives Penguin a quick peck on the lips and rolls over to his side. He wraps an arm around the smaller man, pulls him close and emits a loud satisfied sigh.
Oswald is surprised at the ease and spontaneity of the affectionate gesture. He bashfully rests his head and hand on Victor’s chest and shyly begins tracing his scars. He imagines faceless victims meeting gruesome ends.
When Penguin feels Victor slightly startle, he looks up at his henchman. Zsasz looks down at Oswald with a raised brow.
“Didn’t you need to talk to me about something, boss?”
The kingpin blinks and shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mental fog. Not only is his cognition somewhat impaired, but he’s still trying to wrap his brain around the fact he’s lying naked in his bed curled up with Victor Zsasz (who just fucked him six ways from Sunday).
Dazed, Oswald says, “I’m sorry, Victor. What are you talking ab—? His brain finally begins turning as he recalls their earlier conversation —and the whole reason Victor entered his bedroom in the first place.
“Right. Of course. N-No, Victor. I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Are you sure? It seemed pretty important.”
“Y-Yes, I’m sure. I-I changed my mind.”
“Okay. Just checking.” Victor shrugs and rests his head back on the bed. A few moments later he asks, “Boss, do you think Olga has any more of those tea cakes?”
Penguin initially shows surprise by the question before he puffs out a quiet laugh.
“Ya know, she probably does downstairs in the kitch—.” Before he can finish his sentence, Victor pecks the top of his head, removes his arm from behind him and says, “Be right back.”
He quickly hops out of bed and heads for the door. Penguin watches in amazement. He’s not sure what shocks him most: Victor’s post-coital energy, his unabashed nudity, his insatiable appetite or what just transpired between the two of them.
Their coupling astounds Oswald. He looks around his bedroom in an effort to confirm he’s not dreaming. He looks down to touch the sticky mess on his stomach and to see if Victor’s shirt still hangs on the lounge.
Despite the discomfort of his abused haunches and intimate soreness, he sits up and cranes his neck to confirm Zsasz’s jacket and holster remain on the chair. He then searches around the bed in an attempt to find the bottle of lube.
Oswald’s still hunting for it when the door opens again. Zsasz smiles as he strides in. He holds a tea cake in his mouth and cradles a few more in his hand. He carefully closes the door behind him with a foot until it quietly clicks. Penguin suddenly realizes he didn’t even hear the old stairs creak or shift when Victor padded down or back up them.
Victor bounces back into the bed beside Oswald and returns their bodies to their previous arrangement. He bites into the tea cake he holds in his mouth and feeds the other the other half to Penguin —who smiles as he accepts it.
Zsasz beams back at him and starts working on the other tea cakes. While Victor enjoys them, Penguin takes in the entirety of his heavily scarred and well-muscled upper body. He musters the courage to look up at Zsasz and address him.
“Actually, Victor, I’ve been thinking. Perhaps, in light of recent events, I thought it might be possible for us to be a little less formal with one another...” Zsasz looks down at him and listens intently. “...at least in situations such as these.” Zsasz tilts his head looking somewhat perplexed.
“What I’m suggesting is… you don’t always need to call me ‘boss’.” Victor then raises his eyebrows and nods with understanding.
“Okay, boss —uhh, Oswald. Is Penguin okay?”
Oswald smiles and emits an amused puff.
“Of course. That would be fine. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”
“Okay, boss. Penguin. Oswald. Sorry. This may take some getting used to. Uhh, I still think it’d be better if we kept things the same at work for the sake of…”
Before he finishes, Penguin nods his head wholeheartedly and interrupts.
“I couldn’t agree more, Victor. Thank you for demonstrating such professionalism. I too share your concerns in matters of business.”
“Speaking of, I should probably get going. I need to go back and take care of a few things before our next briefing.”
Penguin tries to hide his disappointment.
“Of course, Victor. I appreciate your commitment to…”
Before Oswald can finish, Victor grasps his chin between his thumb and index finger and plants a big open-mouthed kiss on him. When he pulls back from it, he smiles that smile and replies in a throaty voice.
“This was really fun. I hope we can do this again soon… Oswald.”
Penguin blushes and flutters his eyelashes. He stammers.
“I-I would very much like that too, Victor.”
Zsasz quickly gets up and begins dressing. Penguin rolls to his side to watch him with rapt attention. Victor exhibits no sign of embarrassment or shame. He dresses himself (and occasionally smiles at Oswald) the same way he performs any other task: without apology or abashedness.
Victor cheekily teases Penguin before he puts his shirt back on. He holds one hand behind his neck to flex his traps, triceps and pecs. He then slowly moves his hand down his chest and abdominals with the other hand as he slowly stretches that smile at Oswald.
“Better enjoy one last look before I cover all this up.”
Oswald blushes and drinks in as much of Victor’s body as he can before it returns to the state with which he is most familiar: buttoned up under layers of dark fabric. He intently watches every detail of Zsasz’s ritual. He particularly relishes watching him slide his arms back into his holster.
Before Zsasz leaves, he returns to Penguin for a quick peck. He wraps a hand behind his neck, leans into Oswald’s ear and speaks in a low husky voice.
“Before you go getting any ideas, don’t forget who’s the only one allowed to touch the Penguin.”
He takes a quick nibble of the top of Oswald’s ear and follows by tonguing the shell of it. Penguin gasps.
He strides out of Oswald’s bedroom. Just before the door closes completely, it stops. Zsasz slowly peers back from behind it and scrunches his mouth to one side.
“Umm… I hope this isn’t a problem, but I ate all the tea cakes.”
Penguin bashfully chortles.
“Not to worry, Victor. That’s fine. I’ll let Olga know.”
Zsasz affably smiles as he waves goodbye.
“Okay then. Later.”
As the door clicks quietly closed, Oswald falls back on the bed and emits a huge sigh. He mentally runs through the night’s events. Gradually, he closes his eyes and sleeps without dreaming.
When Olga walks into the kitchen the next morning, she’s surprised to find the tea cakes she baked the day prior all gone. Although she’s annoyed she has to bake again sooner than she planned, she’s relieved to know Mr. Oswald’s gotten his appetite back. He barely touched yesterday’s Quiche Lorraine.
She sets to fetch the fresh bottle of milk from the refrigerator to prepare Mr. Oswald’s crepes. She’s surprised to find it almost empty. Mr. Oswald doesn’t generally drink milk. He prefers tea. She also finds it peculiar that there’s no glass in the sink or on the counter. Mr. Oswald always drinks from a glass.
Before long, Mr. Oswald arrives downstairs for breakfast humming a tune and groomed to perfection. He’s smiling and jovial —practically radiant. His demeanor was conspicuously different.
Not only does he heartily eat the reheated quiche he barely touched the previous morning, but he cheerily compliments her on the dish when she sets off to fetch his evening tea tray.
Once upstairs, she bends down to pick up the tray. She’s surprised to discover Mr. Oswald’s cufflinks sitting on it. She collects them so she can place them where he can find them (on his nightstand). She also finds his shirt, trousers and waistcoat in forgotten heaps around the room. His black houndstooth jacket is the only piece hanging up. It’s then Olga discovers the state of his bed.
When she returns downstairs with the tray, Mr. Oswald cheerily asks her to prepare more tea cakes for Victor who thoroughly enjoyed them. She narrows her eyebrows. (It was commonly known that the Mr. Freeze man preferred savory over sweet.)
When he observes her confusion, he clarifies which Victor: Victor Zsasz. Olga pictures the formidable bald man who sees to Mr. Oswald, helps his tend to his business and keeps him safe. The way Mr. Oswald blushes and rapidly blinks when he mentions Mr. Victor’s name is not lost on her.
”Yes, Mr. Oswald.”
Penguin arrives at the Iceberg Lounge nervous with anticipation. He finds Mr. Penn checking his paperwork while Victor sits at the bar inspecting his weapons. Mr. Penn politely greets Penguin as he customarily does. Zsasz cheerily drawls.
“Good morning, boss.”
Oswald exchanges pleasantries as his stomach flutters and face flushes. Mr. Penn’s too occupied gathering his paperwork to notice Penguin’s jitters. Meanwhile, Zsasz flashes him a knowing smile before walking to Oswald’s office door to open it for them.
Mr. Penn waits for Penguin to enter, but Oswald waves him in first. He smiles nervously at Victor as Mr. Penn steps into his office. When Oswald follows behind his bookkeeper, Victor surreptitiously gropes his ass as he passes by. Penguin jumps at the sensation.
Oswald makes his way to his desk to sit. As he settles upon his chair, his soreness reminds him of his assignation with Zsasz. He blushes at the memory. Victor stares at him from a corner behind Mr. Penn. He slowly stretches that smile across his face.
Penguin finds it challenging to concentrate on business matters. Mr. Penn meticulously discusses figures and trends, but he half listens. His attention is divided between the briefing and his henchman who stares like he’s ready to consume him. Oswald fidgets nervously with his hair and tie.
At one point, he looks up to find Zsasz staring at him with a predatory gaze. Victor points his index finger at his own chest, thrusts twice, points towards Oswald and finally down towards the floor as he slowly mouths the words:
“I’m going to fuck you... tonight.”
Oswald’s heart pounds wildly. He finds himself flustered and unable to respond when Mr. Penn asks if he has any questions about this portion of the report. Mr. Penn is surprised to hear the shrewd and probing Mr. Cobblepot absently stammer, “N-No, Mr. Penn. That is fine. No questions at all. Please. Proceed.”
Suddenly, the song “Funkytown” begins playing. Victor quickly pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and steps outside to answer it. “Yeah.”
After a brief absence, Victor opens the door and peeks in while Mr. Penn prepares paperwork for his next report.
“Boss, your collections are in. I’m gonna go see to them unless you need me for anything else.”
Penguin blushes. “N-No, Victor. That will be fine. I will see you later this evening.”
Victor flashes a lascivious smile at Penguin before he exits.
Hours pass. The Iceberg Lounge thrums with music and revelers. In between making his rounds, Oswald glances at Victor every chance he gets. When he catches Zsasz staring back at him, his palms sweat and stomach flutters nervously.
At one point, the two steal a quick snog when they manage to sneak into men’s room alone together. Victor pushes Oswald up against a wall for a deep and hungry kiss. He palms Oswald through his pants and leans in so close his lips graze his ear as he purrs suggestively.
“I can’t wait to get you alone again later. I have a surprise for you I think you might like.”
Eventually, the club closes down and the staff begin heading their separate ways. Penguin’s going out of his mind anticipating what Zsasz has in store for him. Victor appears as unflappable as ever as he dismisses his men and assures them he’ll “see to the boss” himself.
After Victor ensures the last of the staff are gone, he returns to the club to find Penguin anxiously waiting for him by the bar. Zsasz pulls him close. He hungrily presses his mouth against Oswald’s and delves his tongue into it. Penguin moans.
Zsasz pulls away and says, “I want you now, Oswald. Don’t make me drive you home before you let me rip off your clothes and bury myself inside you.”
Penguin looks up at his ravenous eyes and and nods.
Fries waits patiently in Penguin’s office. He’s not really sure why he’s there. All he knows is whatever he’s there for will happen soon. The club’s now closed and the Iceberg Lounge staff have made their way out.
All Zsasz said was he and Penguin might need him for something happening after hours, and to be ready for anything. He came packing. Zsasz arranged for his men to covertly sneak him into Penguin’s office without anyone noticing right after last call.
In the past, Oswald contacted him directly if he required his services. However, since Zsasz was his primary security consultant, Fries didn’t question the request —even when he knowingly smiled and pointedly said the words “something going down after hours” and “be ready for anything”.
When he hears voices outside, he quietly hides himself in the corner, just inside Penguin’s office door with his weapon primed.
He watches the doorknob jiggle intermittently before the door suddenly bangs open. In stumble Penguin and Zsasz in a passionate embrace.
Oswald pants heavily and is completely overcome with lust. He has trouble maneuvering himself, so Zsasz confidently steers him inside his office. Penguin is so lost in his henchman, he doesn’t even register his other Victor’s presence.
Fries watches with increasing interest as Zsasz impatiently removes Oswald’s suit jacket and tosses it over a chair. He hungrily runs his hands all over Penguin —down his back and possessively around his haunches. He observes Victor reach up to loosen Oswald’s tie and unbutton his top buttons to gain access to his neck.
Zsasz breaks free of Oswald’s lips and crouches down to take his throat into his mouth. He rakes his teeth along Penguin’s sternocleidomastoid and licks it generously. The kingpin groans. Zsasz looks Fries directly in the eye as he sucks Oswald’s neck before he addresses Penguin.
“So, what were you thinking about the other night when I caught you touching yourself at your desk?”
Oswald moans, “F-Fries.”
In a suggestive voice, “Yeah? What about him?”
Between heavy breaths, Oswald manages, “I-I was imagining what it’d be like to touch him.”
“Is that so? Would you touch him if you could?”
Panting heavily, “Yes.”
In a low throaty voice he asks, “Yeah? What would you do to him, my little Penguin?”
“I’d stick my tongue in the cleft of his chin.” Zsasz looks at Fries as he takes Penguin’s chin between his front teeth.
“Yeah. It’s pretty nice, isn’t it? Where else would you like to put that tongue of yours? Hmm? Anywhere else?”
Oswald finds Zsasz’s mouth and hands incredibly distracting, but he does his best to answer. The thought of Fries arouses him. Talking about what he’d like to do to him excites him even more.
“O-On his collarbone and pecs. I’d fondle his nipples and take them into my mouth.” Zsasz carries out the action Oswald describes over Penguin’s clothes.
“Would you suck them?”
Oswald moans, “Yes.”
“Where else would you like to touch or lick him?”
“I’d run my hands and lick all over his big biceps and his abs.” Zsasz continues enacting Oswald’s fantasy over his clothed body.
Fries watches the entire event with rapt attention. He now knows why Zsasz invited him: to mark his territory, and to gauge (perhaps even pique) his interest. That interest was making itself painfully evident.
Zsasz emits a suggestive throaty chuckle.
“Surely that’s not all. Judging by the state I found you in, your intentions were not quite that innocent. What else would you do?”
“I’d take him in my mouth.”
“Yeah? Tell me how you’d do it.”
“I-I’d grab his huge dick by the shaft... and tease the top of his thick cock with my tongue, right before I took him all the way into my mouth. I’d reach around and grab his perfect ass so I could take him as far down into my throat as I possibly could.”
Zsasz takes as much of Oswald’s member as he can through his pants and rubs back and forth. Penguin moans and begins rocking his hips into it.
It’s then that Fries finally steps from the corner with a big thud. Penguin suddenly stops and turns around. His mouth gapes open in shock to find Fries standing there. Zsasz bites his lower lip and smiles impishly behind Oswald, eyes twinkling as he watches on with interest.
Fries steps forward and grabs Penguin by the arm to drag him outside his office. Oswald follows behind dumbstruck, occasionally looking back to ensure Zsasz is close by.
Fries passes the bar, heads into the kitchen and takes Penguin into the commercial walk-in freezer. Zsasz follows them in.
Fries sets his freeze gun down on a small island before he turns to look down at Penguin. He removes his helmet and belt before he turns his attention to his cryosuit. Oswald watches in stunned silence as Fries slowly removes it to the waist to reveal his stunning torso.
All the while, Zsasz seats himself directly behind Oswald. Penguin can feel the man stiffen as he glides his hands over Penguin’s body mimicking Fries’ movements.
Penguin begins to shiver from the cold and sight of Fries’ ravishing body. Through his haze, he faintly feels the sensation of Zsasz slipping his leather jacket over his clothes and its accompanying warmth. Victor then guides him over to the island.
Fries puts his fingers in his mouth and slowly runs his hand down his chin to finger his cleft. Gradually, he moves his hand down and slowly rakes it across the expanse of his chest. He closes his eyes, fondles his nipples and slowly lifts his chin up as he does.
Zsasz mimics Fries’ actions through Oswald’s clothes. Slowly, Fries moves his hands down further to his obliques and abdominals as he flexes them. Zsasz continues repeating Fries’ actions, but also rubs his himself against Oswald’s haunches.
Fries begins to palm himself through his cryosuit while Zsasz does the same to Oswald through his trousers. Once hard, Fries slowly reaches inside the pants of his cryosuit. He looks at Oswald, slightly separates his lips and begins fondling himself. Zsasz does the same to Oswald, who is hard and already leaking.
Before long, Fries removes his hand so he can slip the legs of his cryosuit down past his knees and reveal himself completely. He stands before Oswald like a Greek statue with his beautifully sculpted muscles. Penguin is staggered at the sight. Zsasz leans into Oswald’s ear and growls in a throaty voice.
“Do you like my surprise?”
Penguin nods absently in a daze.
Zsasz unclips Oswald’s suspenders and unbuttons his trousers so he can pull them down with his boxers. He unzips his own pants to free himself. He lifts his jacket and Penguin’s shirttails to reveal Oswald’s ass and make contact with it. The kingpin moans at the touch. Zsasz begins rubbing himself against Penguin.
Fries begins tossing himself with one hand and lazily touches his pecs, abdominals and obliques with the other. When Penguin moves to touch himself, he immediately receives a hard, stinging smack on the ass like he got the last time he tried. Zsasz leans in.
“Who’s the only one who gets to touch the Penguin?”
In a strangled voice.
Fries and Zsasz exchange a look and nod subtly in acknowledgment.
Fries continues tossing himself. His deltoids, biceps and pecs dance with every stroke. His abdominals, obliques and quads ripple as he begins thrusting into his hand.
Zsasz strokes Oswald to the same rhythm Fries uses on himself. He grinds against and eventually buries himself inside Penguin.
Eventually, all three men lose themselves completely in their pleasure.
Not once does Oswald think of Edward.
Meanwhile, in an abandoned building in the Narrows, Edward Nygma tosses and turns as he tries to sleep. He can’t believe his life has come to this. Before long, the red lights that flicker outside remind him of the hallucination he had of Oswald.
Hating himself for his weakness (but unable to resist the temptation), he closes his eyes to better conjure the image of Penguin in his top hat and tails. He remembers his coquettish movements, fluttering lashes and pouting lips as he sang his torch song.
Just as they’ve done countless times before, Edward’s fingers flex when he imagines his hand forcefully wrapped around Oswald’s throat. He can practically feel his hammering pulse as he tightens his grip. He feels himself harden when he envisions ripping off Penguin’s formal wear with his other hand. He groans as he imagines all the ways he’d love to ruin him.
Slowly, he reaches down to touch himself.
Public service announcement: Don’t try to write when you’re drunk. I bought myself a congratulatory bottle of Macallan Edition No. 3 to celebrate my first fic.
I was inspired to begin writing and quickly learned the consumption of scotch (even single malt) is not conducive to the actual writing process. On the other hand, it sure does inspire some fantastic ideas.
For all y’all who indulged me and saw this through to the end, thank you. Really. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you took a chance on a fanfic novice (with no beta-reader and a terrible proclivity for premature ejacu -I mean, posting).
But seriously though: I’m especially grateful for all your words of encouragement. Y’all have been so ridiculously gracious and kind.
Before I sign off, I’ve gotta pair this final chapter with Joy Division’s “Glass”:
“Anytime, wearing down
On the run, underground
Put your hand where it's safe
Take your hand where it's safe
Do it again
Do it again and again and again....
Told you we should do it again....
I bet you wish you’d do it again....
Do it again and again and again…”
You guys are the best.
To Zsaszlepot and Fraszlepot, y’all.