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black with sugar

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A storm is coming. Heavy raindrops are pattering on the windows, the wind is routing and raging. Soon, Oswald can see nothing but the grey, veiled curtain of the rain, its seethe finally devours the purring music inside.


Oswald raises his eyebrows. He’s resting his chin on the counter, bored and utterly peevish. His agony swells with every passing minute.



He really fucking hated this job. He hated it with all his heart and might. It’s only a starter, of course; but working in a fucking Italian café, the jerk customers, the early shifts, and the terrible décor - it’s all starting to be too fucking much, even when he secretly drinks during his shifts.


He needed the money. He needed it for her , for the medicine, the food, the little gifts. These are the things- the reasons- he’d never give up. It’s not like he’s gonna rot in here until he dies, but he has to start somewhere.


Having a job at a café at twenty-five is cliché enough.



Lightning flickers through the greyness, and a thunderclap follows. Oswald sighs, straightening his back. He faces himself in the door’s glass. His reflection is a mess.


Under his eyes, the spotty circles are getting more purple and swollen. He’s studying his haggard features, wondering what else he could do to make himself look like a corpse. He already has the expression of a corpse.


His reflection bends as the door opens. Oswald scoffs, bristling up.


A rangy young man rushes in, soaking wet. He softly pants as he closes the door behind him, tousled hair sticking to his face, and his glasses are misty and dirty. He doesn’t look like his usual customers.


Oswald can safely look him up and down, lips curled. His eyes are glaring with elvish light. He might finally have some fun to wash away the boredom.


“Hello,” the man breathes, straightening his spine. It takes him two steps to reach the counter.


He takes his glasses off, wiping them with his coat. He manages to muck them up even more.


“Good morning, Sir,” Oswald chatters with fulsome courtesy. “How can I help you?”


“Is, uh- is there something to take?”


Oswald grins.


“Except for me?”


The man teeters. He puts his glasses back on, staring at Oswald behind them. His expression changes. He opens his mouth, then closes it.


“Hello,” he muses again, and for a moment, Oswald forgets his act. He snickers.


“So? What’s it gonna be?”


“A necessity to some, a treasure to many, I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company. What am I?”


Oswald stares at him, eyes empty. The man gasps for air again to help him out, but Oswald cuts in with his hand hold up:


“Could you be more specific?”


“Did you solve it?”


He’s way too eager. Easy prey to play with before he breaks his neck. Oswald leans onto the counter, tilting his head.


“Let me try. Some like you cold, some like you hot? It’s working either way with me.”


“It’s coffee. The answer is coffee.”


Oswald sighs, and the man is beaming at him. He has a stupid, curvy smile, and he doesn’t seem to understand Oswald’s rules.


“Just tell me what you want,” Oswald barks, leaving behind his server persona.


His fucking smile doesn’t fade. His lips are thick and dark pink, and Oswald can’t help but imagine his cock shoved deep into that pretty mouth. He must make the most perfect gagging sounds.


“An americano, please.”


Oswald strikes into him again.


“Comin’ right up,” he purrs, looking deep into his eyes.


The man flickers, and Oswald turns away, a shit-eating grin on his face. He starts tinkering away at the espresso machine, periodically swearing and grumbling. He still doesn’t know how to use this shit. He spits back:


“To go, right?”




“Fuck this shit.”


“You don’t like working here, I reckon.”


Oswald rolls his eyes.


“What makes you say that?”


The man giggles. Oswald hears swishing; he must’ve leaned on the counter.


“Just a hunch.”


Oswald mumbles, pouring cold water on the espresso, just to be sure he can fuck with this idiot. He clicks the lid onto the paper cup, shoving it to him.


“Here you go. Good talk.”


“Thank you very much.”


He leaves Oswald a huge tip, slipping the bills on the counter. Oswald raises his brows, crinkling the money into his pocket. The man grabs into the sugar bowl, pinching a bunch of bags.


“My name is Ed. Nygma,” he says at last, fumbling with the cup and the sugar to offer his hand.


Oswald takes it, saying the first name that comes to his mind.


“Peter Humboldt.”


Ed looks slightly surprised, not letting Oswald’s hand go. His grip is firm and soft, Oswald needs to fight his hand out of it.


“Strange,” Ed muses, and dares to say: “It doesn’t suit you.”


Oswald scoffs, and Ed backs down, almost frightened:


“I didn’t mean to offend-”


“What should I be called, then? In your opinion.”


“Something more... unique. Something beautiful.”


Oswald bites his lower lip. Ed still doesn’t look like he wants to leave. Oh well - this calls for a last round that finally makes him scutter the fuck away.


“I bet you’d scream Peter beautifully enough,” he whispers. He takes a bottle of whipped cream from under the counter and fiercely shakes it. His expression is blank. “How about that? Moaning my name into my ear as you take me from behind.”


Ed’s face turns crimson; ears and neck, too. Oswald has to bite the inside of his mouth to not laugh. This guy is… way too easy. It’s ridiculous.


Oswald blows a little ball of whipped cream on two fingers.


Ed mumbles:


“Are you flirting with every customer?”


With lanky, handsome men? To embarrass the shit out of them? Usually.


Oswald pretends to be offended, licking the cream off his fingers.


“Of course not! But I have a feeling you’ll keep me up tonight. Maybe I shouldn’t wait until tonight.” Oswald smiles, biting on his index finger. He whispers: “Are you free? Right now.”


Ed opens his mouth, completely unable to speak. He shakes his head, muttering something like “gotta go” and “job interview”. Oswald sighs, theatrically, watching him rush to the door with careful little steps. Poor son of a bitch has to stoop forward.


Oswald doesn’t expect him to turn back.


“See you soon, Peter.”


He sounds serious. Oswald only answers when the door is closed, and Ed is devoured by the veiled rain. Then, he grumbles:


“See you never.”


And sinks back to his usual agony.





For the next week, Oswald’s working schedule is a fucking mess. He takes early and night shifts, varied. He feels like he hasn’t slept for a week, and that’s pretty much the case. It takes him two days to completely forget about Ed and go back to his usual routine of wondering about his future plans.


Working at Sal Maroni’s hideous café helps him in two ways. He’s interested in organized crime and the catering trade, and he learns about both.


It could be worse. He could’ve started this whole shit under the rival side’s hands - and everyone knows Fish Mooney is a bitch.





Ed was asking around about him. They’ve failed to meet each other since their first encounter, and Oswald found out that Ed had been in the café every single day, looking for a certain Peter Humboldt.


Nobody knew who the fuck he was talking about. Thankfully.


Ed Nygma was the most entertaining customer to play with, that’s for sure - but Oswald couldn’t get him out of his head... which was dangerous. It was probably the first time he actually wanted to fuck someone.


Simply because Ed was gorgeous.


And simply because he acted like a fucking psychopath, stalking him. Which is as frightening as is flattering.


And Oswald finds himself craving more.





The café is fucking full. Oswald has just survived the afternoon rush, and he’s trying to rise from the dead, when Maroni’s men decide to settle in.


At least Oswald’s not alone. He’s helped by another poor soul, and three cooks in the kitchen.


It takes half an hour for Oswald to be absolutely fed up with all this shit. He disappears without a sound, a cigarette between his lips. He bites into the filter as he rushes to the back door that leads to a narrow alley.


It’s all dim and stinking out here. The streetlight’s beams don’t reach him. He lights the cigarette, taking a long drag. As he holds his breath until he feels dizzy, Ed’s face rises from the dusk of his memory.


And suddenly, Ed is in front of him. In the flesh.


Oswald stares at him with eyes wide open, breath still held.


He lurks out of the darkness, and now he’s looking down at him with glowing eyes and the usual wide smile. Oswald peeks up at him, blowing the smoke into his face.


Ed is straight up purring.


“Good evening, Mr. Cobblepot.”


Oswald sniffs. He’s not surprised and doesn’t give a fuck about the whys and the whens. He takes another drag, leaning onto the brick wall behind him.


“Is it unique enough for you?”


“It’s utterly beautiful.” Ed is following him, licking his lips. He seems nervous and excited. He bursts out: “I got the job. I’m officially a forensic scientist.”


He’s only a step away.




“Thank you. I was looking for you.”


The change of subject catches Oswald off guard. He hums, tilting his head.


“Well, you found me.”


“It’s pretty crowded in there, isn’t it?”


“Someone’s been sneaking around.”


“I wasn’t watching them,” Ed assures him. “I was watching you.”


Oswald snickers. He sucks on the cigarette with fallen eyelashes. He can hear Ed swallowing, so he glances up, having mercy on him.


“Aren’t you a nasty little stalker,” Oswald mutters, reaching out to grab Ed’s coat. He pulls him close. Ed has to smack his palms onto the wall to keep his balance. He stares down at Oswald with parted lips, breath slightly heaving. Oswald’s grin is crooked. “My, my. Did I really seduce you with that silly game?”


“You did,” Ed breathes, grinning back. “I came back to play more.”


“Do you wish to beat me?”


“Whatever floats your boat.”


Oswald’s chest is flaming up. Ed not only realized how to play, but he’s actually good at it. He peeks at the cigarette, and an idea comes to his mind. He releases Ed’s coat just to sink his nails into his cheeks and jaw.


“Open up for me,” he whispers and Ed obeys without hesitation. Oswald flicks the ash into his mouth, considering for a moment before he stubs the cigarette out on Ed’s wet tongue.


Ed cries out, and Oswald swiftly pulls him down to swallow his sound, to taste the bitter ash. Ed kisses back, deep and clumsy. Oswald is taming him, caressing his tongue with his, licking into his mouth. Ed’s moans are hoarse and weak. Oswald bites into his lower lip, tearing his flesh, glimpsing up at him.


Ed’s lenses are hazy, just like his irises behind them. Oswald chuckles with his lip between his teeth, and grabs Ed’s cock with his free hand. Ed twitches as Oswald strokes him through his pants.


He’s getting deliciously hard.


“Good boy.”


The lightning in Ed’s eyes is threatening. He grabs Oswald’s wrist, pinning him to the wall. He thrusts his body close, and Oswald gasps. He hits his head against the bricks, chuckling like a maniac. Ed starts grinding into his palm, feverish and raw. Oswald’s hand is caught between their groins. Oswald throws his head back as much as he can, and Ed urgently hurls himself at him to bite into his neck.


Oswald stops him by tightening his grip around his cock. Ed hisses painfully, and Oswald licks his upper lip to shush him.


“Not here.”


Ed looks at him like a kicked puppy. Oswald smirks. He pushes Ed away to step up the stairs to the back door. He peeks at him over his shoulder; Ed is standing there with mouth agape and teeth clashing.


“Come with me.”





They sneak into the cluttered storeroom, not caring about locking themselves inside. They strain to each other, girdled by the steel shelves of the racks.


Ed catches his lips again, shooting his tongue inside his mouth. His bony fingers are wrapping around Oswald’s apron to tear it off of him, exposing his vest, inlaid with red velvet. He undresses him completely above the belt, throwing his shirt and bow tie away. As he reaches to his pants, he stops, drawing back. Oswald’s nose left blurred smears on his lens.


“Go on,” Oswald grunts, grabbing into his hair. “Use your teeth. Rip everything off me.”


Ed kneels in front of him with Oswald’s fingers in his hair. He unzips his pants, clawing into them. He peels them down with one firm pull. As he bites into his underwear, slowly pulling it off, Oswald’s cock pops out, already thick and dripping with precome. Ed’s hair is tickling him and his glance is burning. He runs the tip of his tongue over his length, savoring the salty drops, and Oswald has to bite his lips to hold back his moans.


“Oh my. You’re beautiful.”


“Tell me you have a condom and lube on you.”


He feels Ed’s wet breath on his skin.


“I always come prepared.”


Oswald chuckles. It melts into a moan as Ed kisses the tip of his cock again, making him shiver. He can hear the rustling as Ed unpacks his pockets and finally takes off his glasses.


Oswald closes his eyes.


“How long have you been dreaming about this?”


“You know how long,” Ed murmurs, making Oswald snicker.


“Undress. I want to see every inch of your body.”


Ed grins, leaning up to kiss him again. He gets rid of his clothes, still chained to Oswald’s lips. Oswald glances down to his arching cock, humming approvingly. Ed laughs between his lips.


“That will do,” Oswald says, caressing him with gentle fingertips. “What do you have in mind?”


Ed blinks at him rapidly. Oswald explains:


“Do you want to fuck me or should I fuck you?”


“I-I don’t know. Which one do you prefer?”


Oswald sighs.


“You talk like a virgin.” No answer. “Wait. Don’t tell me you are a virgin.”


Ed scoffs, offended. He grabs the steel shelf behind Oswald, caging him.


“Do you have a problem with that?”


“Yes, it’s fucking unbelievable. Look at yourself. I’m not buying it.”


Ed’s features are almost melting. His proud smile boils the blood in Oswald’s veins, flushing his cheeks.


“Whatever,” he grumbles. “It’s decided, then. The honor is yours.”


Ed keeps beaming at him while Oswald unlaces his shoes and kicks them off, socks too. He picks the condom up from the tiles, holding it up.


“May I?”


Ed nods, gulping. Oswald hides his face behind his fallen hair, tearing the package with his teeth. Instead of spitting into his palm, he wets it with a long lick. He entwines his fingers around Ed’s cock, giving it a few firm strokes before he wraps it in the condom. Ed leans close, huffing into his ears, nibbling his lobe.


Oswald is fucking shaking again. His knees are weakening with every lap and bite. Ed finds the sensitive spot on his neck again. The sound Oswald makes is almost a sob, trembling and high. He scratches across Ed’s spine, feeling his skin burning up under his nails.


Ed claws into his hips, lifting him up and shoving him onto a shelf. The clashing is deafening, a warning pain is throbbing at Oswald’s nape, back and ass as the cold steel is pressed into him. Some boxes fall off the rack with a thump.


Oswald gasps. His legs are forced apart, his thighs clasp Ed’s waist. Ed takes his breath away with a kiss, holding him in position with his knees. He drips the whole pack of lube on three fingers, curving them below Oswald.


He sinks them into him right away, deep and cruel.


Oswald cries out.


“Ssshit- you are a virgin.”


“Sorry,” Ed breathes, tightening his grip around Oswald’s hip bone. He doesn’t sound sorry at all, moving inside of him, scraping him.


Fucking hell, Ed.”


“Does it hurt?”




“Perfect.” Ed dares to giggle, rotating his hips so their cocks stick together. He pinches Oswald’s neck between his teeth again, sucking his skin crimson.


Oswald whimpers, his muscles tighten around Ed’s dipping fingers. He has to grab the shelf above him. His throat feels dry, his words are enraptured.


“You sadistic cunt.”


“Why thank you.”


“If you want to hurt me, leave me like this.” Ed peeks at him, waiting for affirmation. “I’m telling you that I like you rough.”


Ed pulls his fingers out, smearing the lube on his cock. He grabs the shaft, guiding the tip to Oswald’s entrance. With his free hand, he grabs Oswald by the jaw to make him stare into his eyes. He catches his glance, pushing himself right in, and Oswald can’t help but take his cock all the way.


He clenches his teeth, hissing.


Fuck- move.”


Ed obeys. He sinks his nails into Oswald’s ass, thrusting into him. Oswald relaxes and tenses, meeting every thrust with hoarse moans and whimpers. Ed’s cock is warm inside of him, throbbing and filling him completely. He feels like he’s sliced up with every violent push, the pain is pulsing and lumbering in his skull, blinding him, arousing him.


He tears Ed’s skin on his nape, marking him with swollen, reddish humps of flesh. Ed’s moans are melting inside of him, dripping into his groin. Ed pushes Oswald’s body higher, crushing his collarbones with his teeth.


Faint steps echo outside the door. Somebody’s closing in, making Ed’s rhythm fade. He swallows dry.


“Someone might come in,” he whispers. Oswald snickers.


“Yeah. So fuck me harder.” Ed is pleasantly surprised, flashing his teeth. He’s too close. Oswald smears a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth, caressing his sharp cheekbone with his lips. “Let them hear us.”


Ed is driving into him more leisurely, leaving moments of heartbeat between his harsh thrusts. Oswald’s moans are more desperate and imploring. The steps are stopping, the doorknob creaks. Ed tears into his neck to make him scream, and the door shuts with a frightened clang.


Oswald laughs, trying to reach to his own cock to find release. Ed notices. He grunts, smacking his hand away, clutching his wrist.


“No-no-no, Sir,” he hums, pinning Oswald’s hands together above his head. He’s slightly panting. “That’s not the game I want to play.”


Oswald writhes, sharply breathing through his nose.


“You bitch,” he spits.


“Patience, Mr. Cobblepot.”




“You have to earn that.”


“So you’re fucking me like an exclusive whore. Alright.”


“I’m not.” Ed presses himself close, kissing him on the cheek. He leaves his lips there as he whispers: “I’m fucking you how I want to.”


Oswald licks his lips, wiggling his wrists in Ed’s grip.


“Let me go.”


“I won’t.”


“I just want to hug you.”


Ed makes a faint, surprised noise. He draws back his hand, feeling Oswald’s arms curl around his neck. He buries his face into the crook of Oswald’s neck.


Oswald mutters:


“And what is it that you want?”


“To suck you dry after I come inside of you.”


Oswald snorts, stroking Ed’s hair. He can feel his cheeks on his neck. They’re flaming.


“I think I can accept that,” he mumbles.


Ed’s teeth are icy on his skin as he grins. He grabs Oswald’s ass again, slapping it.


He hastens, tilting his forehead to Oswald’s. They stare into each other’s eyes, breathing into each other’s mouth, hot and quivering. Oswald’s cock is trapped between them, grazing against Ed’s skin, and it’s still not enough - not for him.


Ed’s gaze thickens, his irises are hazy and dark. It takes him only two or three more thrusts to come with a raspy, quavering scream that Oswald swallows deep.





Oswald’s back clashes against the steel shelf once again. He’s breathing heavily, sitting, the tiles sticking coldly to his sweaty skin. Ed is kneeling above him, palm hot on his chest as he shoves him against the rack and keeps him there. Oswald draws his knees up, spreading his legs so Ed can nestle between them, ass arisen. It’s a magnificent sight.


Ed bites into his thigh, experimenting. He earns a breathless sigh.


Oswald doesn’t expect much of him, but Ed awes him. His tongue smooths up his length, kissing him hot and open-mouthed before he swallows him up.


Oswald hisses.




Ed giggles. It was fucking intentional. Oswald pulls his hair to warn him, pushing him deeper. Ed’s gagging laugh vibrates through him as he clasps him with his lips. His moves are way too taut as he starts bobbing his head. It takes him awhile until he finds the right flow that seethes through Oswald, tensing him.


He looks way too gorgeous with Oswald’s cock in his mouth. He was right about those lips, shining with saliva.


Oswald presses his lips together.


“Fuck, that’s it.”


Ed is savoring him. He makes tiny moaning noises, driving Oswald crazy. No one has ever shown respect to his fucking cock , but Ed is tasting him like he couldn’t get enough of him, like he wouldn’t want it to end. His nails dig deeper into his thighs, scratching marks on him.


Oswald lifts his leg, pushing his heel to Ed’s nape. He is panting even louder now, his toes curl. Ed’s mouth is warm and tight, besotting him. Oswald starts to get giddy, stars sparkling before his eyes.


He’s close. He’s so fucking close, it’s-


Ed chokes on his cock again, and his husky voice gives Oswald what he wants.


He throws his head back, whining, coming hard into Ed’s mouth.


His chest is heaving. He peeks down at Ed, mouth filled with salty semen. It’s dripping from his lower lip and chin, and Oswald chuckles.




Ed does, drying the drops with his index finger, licking himself clean. Oswald is staring at him, mesmerized by those long, bony fingers and the way Ed is devouring him.


It’s too fucking much.


Without saying something he might regret, he nestles himself close, kissing him softly.


Ed kisses back. He tastes like he was Oswald’s property.





They dress in complete silence. Oswald is fumbling with his vest’s buttons and the apron. Ed has already put on his clothes, and now he’s waiting for him, glaring at him.


Oswald turns his back to him. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do next. He straightens his spine, ruffling his hair. His clothes stick to his skin, cold and sweaty. It’s uncomfortable as hell, and he wishes he could take everything off again, seeking sedation on Ed’s warm skin.


He takes a deep breath, facing Ed. He opens his mouth to say something, but Ed cuts in:


“It’s okay. I can wait for you here until you finish your shift.”


Oswald is glaring at him. He’s fucking serious.


“You want to-”


“Wait for you, pick you up, take you out.”


How the hell does his mind work?


Oswald feels his lips curling into a cruel and crooked smile. How does his own mind work?


“So you’re planning on dating me.”


“I am already dating you?”


Oswald snorts. He should be at least fucking scared, considering the whole situation, but the only thing boiling in his veins is warmth. And pity. And a little bit of excitement.


For some stupid reason, he gladly embraces the danger that comes with Ed Nygma. And he knows he couldn’t convince him otherwise, even if he wanted to; he’s challenging him, and Oswald won’t back down, not to him.


“You know what?” he rumbles. “I’ll leave you to that thought.”


Ed’s grin is gleaming. He leaps to him to press a kiss on his lips, then turns on his heels.


“I’ll be waiting for you outside” he chatters, clinging to the door frame, “Oswald.”


Another stupid reason: his name sounds delicious on Ed’s tongue.


He doesn’t want to let him leave until he gets what he wanted at the beginning: Ed, screaming his name while he is fucking him from behind. Then, he can make a decision.