Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Over the last few months, one of Bruce and Selina’s fans began attracting attention. Unhinged ramblings, blurry photos that skewed too close for comfort, and of course, riddles.

The name ‘Riddler’ almost became synonymous with Bruce and Selina’s two person band. Wherever ‘ROT’ was trending, so was the Riddler. Bruce didn’t let it show how much it all irked him, how angry he got sometimes. Somehow, even though he knew the Riddler couldn’t see his every move, it felt like losing. 

But still, after months of harassment and borderline threats, he was tired. And the police’s refusal to do anything hardly helped. Everything was worded so carefully, no real ‘intent to harm’ or whatever bullshit.

He was too antsy to sign merchandise for 2 hours, but nobody gave a shit about that. 

“It’s kinda cute how nervous you are,” Selina said, through the pen cap in her mouth, scribbling more nonsense on a poster. She handed it to the girl at the other end of the table, who looked about ready to faint.

“I wonder how long it’s gonna take before they realize those signatures are nonsense,” Bruce mused. He didn’t want to talk about it, but Selina did, of course.

“Don’t change the subject,” 

“Leave it, Selina,” Bruce said through a tight smile as he took a fan’s (very obviously unwashed) t-shirt, silver sharpie creaking in his grip. 

“He’s gonna be here, Bruce, it’s obvious from the last riddle,” 

“…”

“Don’t act like you aren’t solving them the minute they’re posted too,”

Bruce continued to ignore Selina, who shrugged and went back to signing. 

It wasn’t until an hour later that he showed up, right after a 30 minute break, when the line was still short. Bruce felt more than saw the shadow cast over the table. He looked up at the man in front of them, watching as he wrung a t-shirt in his hands, body hunched in a green coat.

“Hiii Bruce,” He said. 

Bruce swallowed down the shiver that crawled up his body, “You want that signed?” He asked. 

The man pursed his lips in a smile, like he could barely contain…something, “Yeah, right below the collar please,” he unraveled it and set it on the table.

Selina was late, the empty seat of her chair making Bruce tense. 

“There you go, thanks for coming out tonight,” Bruce said, handing the t-shirt back.

The man reached forward, but instead of taking the t-shirt, he took Bruce’s hand— grabbed it, really. 

Bruce clenched his jaw, first looking at the people queueing up over the stranger’s shoulder, then up at him. 

A smarmy grin was spread over his face, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. Pure, unfiltered glee. Bruce wrenched his hand back.

“Thanks Bruuce,” he said lowly, taking the shirt and walking off. 

“Jeez,” Selina said, making Bruce jump. She looked at him funny, and he wondered when she’d gotten back. He sighed, turning to the next person approaching the table. 

———

“You should’ve called security,” Selina said, squeezing Bruce’s forearm, “I’m sorry I was gone for so long, we can-“

“It’s fine,” Bruce said. Alfred would tell him the same thing, tell him to prioritize his safety. He crossed his arms and looked around the event center, relishing in the quiet.

Then, his eyes caught something, just barely. Movement.

Selina stretched her arms above her head, “Alright well, we should probably,”

“Yeah just a sec uh,” Bruce squinted down the hall, “I gotta use the restroom,”

Selina quirked a brow, “Ok, I’ll be in the car. Don’t forget our driver has a life too,” She said, pushing the door open and leaving.

Bruce watched until she was in the car, then turned toward the hallway.

In buildings like this, it was surprisingly easy to get lost. All of the linoleum and nauseatingly bright fluorescent lights began to blend together after a while. Bruce felt it all now, along with a sinking feeling.

He reached the end of the hallway and sighed, looking to the left and right, feeling ridiculous.

Then, low and quiet, he heard his name.

“Bruuuce,” 

He whipped around, sucking in a breath. The Riddler stood a little ways down the hallway, grinning, wringing the t-shirt Bruce had signed earlier.

“I just…I wasn’t gonna, I was fine with just watching but…” he stepped forward, “You came back in by yourself…it’s like you could hear how much I needed you…felt it,” 

Bruce sneered, and suddenly memories of the past few months flooded his mind. 

Then, red. All he saw was red.

“Nk—“ The Riddler grunted as his head hit the white cinderblock wall, then laughed. “I knew you’d be violent but this seems like a little much—Bruce—“

“Stop fucking saying my name,” Bruce growled, tightening his grip on Riddler’s neck. Fuck this. Fuck this.

Riddler let out a trembling, wheezing breath, gripping Bruce’s forearm and staring at him, daring him. 

Bruce grit his teeth, pulling the other man from the wall and throwing him to the ground. His heart felt like it was about to explode.

The Riddler coughed, groping the wall and trying to stand, but Bruce was picking him back up.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

Laughter.

Bruce growled and asked again, “What do you want?” 

More laughter, even when Bruce tightened his hand to bruising. He was about to tell him to shut up, but the feeling of hardness against his thigh had him looking down, then back up to meet the Riddler’s gaze. His eyes were half lidded, rolling back, mouth agape for air.

Bruce let him go abruptly, panting.

“Ahauh, huuh, uuh,” The Riddler gasped for air, then grasped at Bruce’s leg. “Uuhugh, Bruuuce, please,” he begged. 

Disgust and morbid fascination twisted in Bruce’s gut; he was delirious with anger. He looked about the hallway, eyes settling on a supply room door. He hauled the Riddler to his feet and pushed through the door, dragging him behind. 

What am I doing? 

Bruce pushed the Riddler up against the door.

What am I doing?

Riddler groaned as Bruce ground his thigh into his crotch, clawing at his jacket.

What. Am. I. Doing?

Kissing the Riddler, that’s what.

Or biting him, rather.

He just wanted him to hurt, needed it. Something dormant inside of him roared to life when he broke the skin of the other man’s lip, licked up the blood, stole every breath he tried to take.

“On your knees, Riddler,” Bruce rasped as he pulled away. The Riddler nodded, sinking to his knees and bracing his hands on Bruce’s thighs. He wasted no time in surging forward as soon as Bruce’s fly was down, laving at the dark briefs and moaning like he was experiencing the most euphoric high imaginable.

“Fucking pathetic,” Bruce murmured, tangling his hand in the Riddler’s hair and wrenching his head back. The blue of his irises was eclipsed by his pupils. “You’re worthless,” Bruce panted, gulping back a groan as Riddler took him down to the root fuck.

Bruce’s phone buzzed against his thigh. He sighed, wrestling it out of his pocket and taking a few times to slide his thumb across the screen and answer.

“Jesus Bruce what’s keeping you, did you get caught up with fans? Or—I knew that sushi the other night was bad, I’m com-“

“Go back without me, I’m fine,” Bruce said through his teeth. He let the phone slip from his hand and clatter to the floor, because he needed to be touching the man beneath him, he needed it.

God, he was still so angry. It wasn’t enough. Bruce looked at the head bobbing between his legs before grabbing it and shoving his hips forward. His legs quivered at the choking and whimpering that came from the Riddler’s throat and ran up his shaft.

When he felt himself beginning to teeter on the edge, he yanked the Riddler’s head back with a hum, trying to reel himself in.

Riddler was long gone, already starting to lave at Bruce’s cock again. 

“Stand up,” Bruce panted. The Riddler stood on wobbly legs.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Bruce asked, grabbing the Riddler’s shoulder and spinning him around. He slammed his cheek into the wall, holding him there while his hand worked at the Riddler’s belt. He got it off, then froze when he felt damp cloth against his fingers.

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his throat. Christ, he was going insane.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh? Is this what you thought would happen when you came here, when you started with those fucked up instagram posts?”

“Ahaaah, I…uuhg,”

Bruce brushed his lips against the Riddler’s ear, “You better enjoy this while you can, because this is all you’re gonna get.”

The Riddler whimpered as Bruce yanked pants down, “You’re gonna die alone,” Bruce said, grinding up against the cleft of the other man’s ass, “A nobody,”

“Bruce,” The Riddler panted, angling himself back for more. Bruce rested his forehead on his shoulder, pulling the Riddler’s boxers down. He considered prepping for a moment, but decided against it. 

This was a conquest.

Bruce smeared the other man’s earlier release over his cock, eyes fluttering shut at the sounds he pulled from his throat. He bunted his tip against the Riddler’s entrance before pushing forward.

“Bruce, Bruuuce,” Riddler panted, cheek still pressed into the wall. Bruce tilted his head back and groaned, settling into a pace that he knew would hurt. 

“Bruce…” 

Put both of his hands on the Riddler’s hips.

“God, Bruuuce,“ 

Sank his teeth into the pale skin of his neck.

“Brucebrucebrucebrucebruce-“

Grabbed the Riddler’s chin, told him, “Shut the fuck up you worthless piece of shit,” and pulled him in for another kiss. Their lack of a height difference made for such a satisfying meeting of their lips, he groaned and fucked harder still.

The heat was almost suffocating, almost. Sweating had never felt so good, and it tasted even better. Bruce kept leaning down to lick stripes up the Riddler’s neck, salty musk spreading over his tongue.

“You’re nothing,” Bruce said, speeding up, “Nothing. A freak.”

Riddler clawed uselessly at the wall, groans being punched from his throat.

“Say it,” Bruce panted, “Say it,” Please.

“I’m no-THING,” Riddler’s voice went up when Bruce struck his prostate, “M’a freak, I’m worthless I don’t deserve—oh god Bruce-!”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open in a silent cry as the sudden orgasm nearly knocked him over. He slumped over fully, his front pressed to the Riddler’s back, who was hyperventilating through his own orgasm.

“Mmfuuuuck, you stupid fucking…Jesus,” Bruce and Riddler sunk to the dusty linoleum floor, panting and grabbing at each other for something.

“Bruuce,” 

Bruce looked at the Riddler, who slowly raised his head to look at him. Fuck, he was wrecked, crooked glasses, tear stained cheeks, wet and swollen lips. Bruce felt something swell in his chest. It felt like a tumor.

“Bruce,” Riddler whined again like the man child he was, slumping forward and resting his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce let himself fall back to lay on the floor.

What am I doing?

———

Selina knocked back the last of her whiskey, reaching over the end table to finally tap the ‘end call’ button. Bruce really needed to drop that habit of not hanging up. 

Chapter Text

Gotham always smelled worse when it rained, and it rained a lot.

But Bruce found the smell nostalgic, city smog mixed with wet asphalt, cigarette smoke.

“Christ it smells horrible,” Selina sighed. She was arguably more used to the smell than Bruce was, considering he spent most of his childhood being chauffeured around, never allowed to go out into the city by himself. 

That was a topic of contention among ‘ROT’ fans and anti-fans alike. The only reason why a two-person grunge band was so popular in 2024 to begin with was because one of them was Bruce Wayne, reclusive rich kid turned rock star.

It was all so exhausting.

But, Bruce’s inside knowledge of the cities infrastructure meant they could have concerts in interesting places.

Like the catacombs of the Gotham Cathedral. The Gotham Cathedral was one of the oldest landma-

“Are we gonna pretend you didn’t fuck the Riddler?” Selina asked.

Bruce closed his eyes.

Ok. Fine. 

“I’m not pretending, we just haven’t talked about it,” 

Selina leaned against the doorway to the catacombs.

Doorway to the Catacombs, that would make for an interesting lyric. 

“Bruce,” Selina said, and Bruce sighed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say about it. I fucked the little freak and then left him there,”

After holding him against your chest for almost half and hour, panting in the heated dark, getting a headache from the smell of the chemicals and not caring because you finally had him. 

“You sure you shoulda done that?”

Bruce shot Selina a look, even though they’d both been wondering that for the past 2 weeks. 

The Riddler’s social media was dead silent. All of it. Bruce hadn’t even received any creepy PMs on discord or reddit.

And fuck, did it bother him.

The same sniveling coward that dared to stalk him online and in person, all over the east coast and back again, only to turn into a blubbering mess when confronted.

The confrontation was all Bruce could think about since it happened. He didn’t realize how much he needed it until he was back in his hotel room, clean, all traces of Riddler’s desperate touches washed down the drain.

And the sheets were clean, the air was clean, everything was too clean, and all Bruce wanted was fucking filth.

“I probably scared him off for good,” Bruce sighed. It was for the best.

———

Whose woods these are, I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stoping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

———

Bruce read over the old riddle over and over. It wasn’t even really a riddle, just a photo of a poem by Robert Frost printed on a piece of paper. Only the first three lines were legible.

It was the only one he hadn’t figured out. He spent weeks paranoid about it when he first saw it, and learned so much about American poetry that he ended up writing three songs just to expel the information. He remembered that late night he spent hunched over, pen flying across the pages of his notebook. The whole time, it felt like the Riddler was right over his shoulder, guiding his hand. 

He never found a tune for the lyrics, or cared to.

Now, he just wished he’d learned the Riddler’s name. 

———

Two weeks turned to three, turned to four, turned to a month.

One whole month.

Before their encounter in the supply closet, The Riddler never went twelve hours without posting something or dming Bruce and Selina.

What if you killed him?

Bruce swallowed the thought and channeled it into his next punch. 

You think you can do that to someone that fucked up and expect them to be fine?

Bruce wailed on the bag, grinding his teeth to dust. He whipped his hands down in defeat, turning and snatching his phone off the bench, and texting one of the unknown numbers that he’d blocked over a year ago.

Bruce: where are you

Bruce stared down at his phone, as if sending the message would somehow bring Riddler’s neck into his hands. 

Bruce: you better not be planning something fucked 

Bruce was still panting. This was all so stupid.

———

Concert night saw the Gotham Cathedral catacombs hazy with smoke, stifling and warm despite the time of year, damp, alive.

Bruce wasn’t shy about scanning the crowd now, since Selina had sufficiently made fun of him between songs for the past hour.

Riddler had been quiet for so long that even Bruce and Selina’s fans were wondering what was up. It pissed Bruce off how intertwined ‘ROT’ and the Riddler were. 

After the show, Bruce did the obligatory meetings with fans who had backstage passes, though there wasn’t a stage. Bruce’s venue picks often left less space between the performers and the crowd than was recommended. But that was by design.

It was hard to tell when there was commotion with any crowd, but Bruce zeroed in on the bodies of his security gathering at the entrance almost immediately.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked. 

“Ah, this guy keeps insisting he knows you—“

Bruce was pushing the guard out of the way immediately, shouldering through the crowd, heart in his throat—

“Yooo what’s good Bruce,” Some guy who was very much not the Riddler threw an arm around Bruce’s shoulder, holding up a phone that was recording a livestream or something. “Name’s Harvey, hey wait-“

Bruce was turning around and heading back to the meet and greet area before the asshole could finish whatever he was talking about. 

———

These woods are lovely, dark and deep,

———

Bruce: you’re such a fucking coward

Bruce: I still remember how you sounded

Bruce: I bet you touch yourself thinking about me

Bruce: fucking answer me

Bruce: quit hiding

———

The last had left, and Bruce felt deflated by the time it was all over. The high after a good concert was usually bone-deep, satisfying.

The hollowness this time, however, echoed loud and deep in his chest. Bruce grit his teeth, and buckled his guitar case.

Selina sighed, “Hmm,”

“What’s that noise mean?” Bruce asked dully.

“Well, for one, we could use a bassist.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. She’d been saying that since their first gig.

“And you…” She looked at Bruce over her shoulder, “Yeah I dunno what you need. But we’ll start with a drink yeah?” She clapped Bruce on the shoulder and strode past him. 

“I think…” Bruce sighed, trudging after her, “I want coffee instead, I have…something stuck in my head, need to get it out onto paper,” 

Selina raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything more. 

———

“I heard this place has great pumpkin pie,” Selina said, rubbing her hands together. 

“As long as the coffee is passable,” Bruce said, pushing the car door open.

A worn out woman behind the counter glanced at them when they walked through the door, the bell at the top clattering dully. Decades of grime and what looked like the remnants of a grease fire stained the wall behind the stove.

“A slice of the pumpkin pie please,” Selina said, smiling at the waitress, “And coffee for him, black.” 

“Thanks,” Bruce muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache was forming behind his eyes, his eyeliner was smudged. He squeezed his lids shut, willing the pain away. Why were the lights so bright?

He flinched when the door opened again, and the bell clattered, but didn’t bother looking up. 

“Mph, my god-“ Selina groaned, forking another piece of pie in her mouth, “Brufe thif pie ish increderble,”

But when weight settled in the chair right next to him, his eyes snapped open. 

Everything in Bruce’s world narrowed down to a pinpoint as he listened to the breathing of the person next to him. With fragile apprehension, he turned his head to the man next to him.

Riddler was talking to the waitress, but Bruce didn’t hear him. 

He finally turned to Bruce, and stared. Bruce stared back. He wasn’t sure what he looked like right now, but on the inside, he was-

“Selina,” Bruce said, getting up from his stool, “Call yourself an uber.”

“Whaf?” Selina blinked at him and swallowed, “Why? What’re you-“ she looked over his shoulder and mouthed an ‘oh’.

Riddler began to raise his hand to Selina in a wave, but was pulled off the stool.

“I uh,” Riddler stumbled as he was pulled toward the exit, “Ordered a slice of pie myself um,”

“Shut. Up.” Bruce hissed, shoving the door open. The bell clattered loudly and fell to the floor of the diner as they left.

Rain bore down on them as soon as they stepped out. Bruce opened the door to the SUV and pushed the other man inside, not without effort of course, given his height.

“The Orchard, please,” Bruce said gruffly once he was inside. 

He sat back in his seat, and the two sat in silence for a moment. 

“What,” Bruce began, fist clenched white, “Is your name?”

Riddler had his head resting on the window, “Heh…I take it you don’t wanna guess,”

Bruce grabbed him by the collar, “You’ll tell me, now.”

“Ok sheesh,” Riddler chuckled, “It’s Edward, if you have to know Bruuce,” 

Bruce could feel himself seething, but he let the Riddler…Edward, go.

“I have to ask,” Edward said, “What are you planning on doing with me once we reach the Orchard?”

Bruce didn’t answer, because he didn’t know.

———

But I have promises to keep

———

Edward was willing to admit he was greedy.

A hypocrite too.

But not a coward. 

He could’ve done worse, if he wanted, to Bruce and his friend. He wanted to sometimes. But what would that do besides cause people like himself more fear.

No, no, it was Bruce who needed fear.

Edward just got a little, caught up in him. Caught up in his eyes, his voice, his songwriting, his hands. 

The next thing he knew, contempt had turned to infatuation, turned to obsession.

But who is he, or anybody else for that matter, to say that obsession hadn’t paid off?

“Never thought I’d set foot in the Orchard, let along stay in it,” Riddler said, running his hand along the petal of an ornate flower arrangement in the room. 

Bruce shed his coat, and draped it over an armchair. “You won’t be here long, don’t worry,” he said.

“Hm,” Edward turned around, “You sure kept me long last time,”

Bruce’s cheeks colored a perfect pink. Edward felt a smile melt across his face. He didn’t think Bruce was the type to get flustered easily, but that closet had been pretty dark. 

Bruce approached the door, and turned a knob, dimming the lights. Edward guffawed, and Bruce glared, “I have a migraine, shut up before I make you.”

“Ok ok big guy,” 

“We’re the same height.”

“I know but,” Edward looked Bruce up and down, “You’re still bigger. I could feel it then too.”

Bruce cast his eyes off to the side, “Hhh, fuck,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, “FUCK!”

Edward laughed, "Huuhuhuuhuh, good lord what’s up with you now?”

“You. You’re what’s up you fucking pathetic—you are so…” Bruce sat bodily onto the bed. 

“Well, maybe I can help you out with your quarter life crisis,” Edward said, stepping forward. 

Bruce grunted a response, whatever that meant. 

“Do your parents know how delusional you are?” Bruce muttered. 

“Don’t have any,” Edward shrugged, wrenching off his shoes and letting his coat drop to the floor. 

Bruce tensed as he straddled him, but didn’t say anything.

“You better decide what you want,” Edward said lowly, grinding himself down, “Before I decide for you.”

“Kch,” Bruce sneered, shoving Edward to the ground. Edward opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw Bruce undoing his belt.

“Ngh,” Edward smiled, “I’ve been wanting to taste you again for so long Bruuuce,” Edward purred, bracing his hands on Bruce’s thighs. 

“Stuff your mouth or shut it,” Bruce growled, grabbing the back of Edward’s head. 

Edward obliged the former happily, grinning as Bruce’s eyes fluttered shut.

Edward could blow a hundred guys, and still know instantly the shape of Bruce in his mouth, the feeling of the weight on his tongue. He’d know. 

Bruce let out a heavy breath, and Edward felt another hand on his head, and fingers thread through his hair.

“Take it,” Bruce panted. Edward bobbed his head over Bruce’s length, and swirled his tongue over the tip, never taking his eyes off Bruce, who tilted his head back and exposed the pale expanse of his throat. Edward sighed longingly; nothing was enough. He wanted. He wanted. He wanted. 

Long, drawn out moans came from his throat as he stroked his tongue against Bruce's shaft, squeezed his thighs. God those thighs.

Bruce…Bruce…

"Mmmf," Edward urged his hips upward into Bruce's leg. Between his own pants and Bruce's boots it hardly felt like anything, but it felt like everything. Edward was going to die if he didn't have Bruce inside of him soon, and he told Bruce as much.

"Kh, you're so fucking pathetic," Bruce said, heaving Riddler up and back onto his lap. Riddler nodded dumbly, "Yheah mmm, yeah I am I'm sooo pathetic euhehuhuh," He rested his head on Bruce's chest and closed his eyes. One time was already a dream come true but twice?

"Bruuuce please," Edward begged. The need inside of him burned painful and white-hot, "Make me hurt-"

"Shut up," Bruce growled, flipping Edward onto the bed, "Shut up or I'll fucking gag you,"

"Oh my god please," Riddler felt his eyes roll back in his head at the thought. To be tied up under Bruce and left at his mercy…or vice versa…

He ground against the mattress, needing to relish the thought. Bruce held him down, "Such a weirdo," he murmured into the back of Edward's neck.

Edward felt the same heady feeling he felt in that supply closet, and this time he knew it wasn't from the fumes. It was a heavy pressure at the front of his skull, insisting and dizzying, he didn't want to do anything but let himself be taken.

Distantly, he heard buckles being undone, boots hitting the floor by the bed, a condom being unwrapped. At the feeling of his pants being pulled down, Edward held his breath. He wondered how roughly Bruce would take him this time. He knew deep down that the rich boy was just as desperate as he was, and he knew just how to pull it out of him.

"Don't prep me, a-and no condom either, please Bruce, I wanna feel all of you," Edward whimpered. He wasn't sure where these words were coming from.

"Don't be dumb, you nearly broke my dick clean off last time. All that crying and begging made you so," Bruce clutched Edward's thigh, "So fucking tight,"

Edward pouted, "F-fine, ugh, ok just—please Bruce, pleaase," he said, "I want you more and more every day, please—oh," Edward sagged as Bruce pressed two lubed fingers against his entrance, pressing and pressing but not breaching.

"Remind me of how pathetic you are," Bruce rasped, "And we'll get started."

Edward bucked off the bed violently, but Bruce held him down. He was so heavy. "I um…the shirt—the one you signed. I've been jerking off with it every day since you signed it. Never washed it either. Can't bring myself to."

Silence. Edward was still on his stomach; he couldn't see his face. But he could hear breathing, heavy and hot.

"Get on all fours," Bruce said, almost weakly, strained. Edward wanted to look back at him, but he liked not being able to see his face, for some reason.

Edward yelped as he felt a hand in his hair, his head being pulled back roughly.

God fuck yes. Edward nearly cried from—oh, he actually was crying, huh.

"Why are you crying?" Bruce said with sinister sweetness, "Don't worry, I'll only make it hurt more here soon,"

"Buh..ugh, Bruce…ngh," Edward couldn't console himself, isntead angling himself back for the cock he needed inside of him right now.

He cried out loudly when Bruce finally began sinking inside of him, and Bruce clasped a hand over his mouth, hissing for him to shut up.

Edward bought his hands up to Bruce's arm, putting the hand from his mouth and laving at Bruce's fingers. "Please please please hurry oh my god Bruce-" Edward rocked back onto Bruce's cock, slurping the calloused digits into his mouth.

God, these hands. He'd heard what these hands could do, jerked off to the thought of them more than a few times, they were so perfect.

Bruce finally bottomed out with a low groan, resting his head between Riddler's shoulders. The mattress was dipped steep from their combined weight, and creaking from the stress.

"Bruce," Edward bought the wet hand to his throat, "Please, please,"

Bruce silently obliged, curling his fingers around Edward's throat, and pushing his hips forward. He fell forward, and Bruce draped himself over his back, still choking him and moving at a pace so brutal that Edward would be screaming, but he couldn't.

"Hhhh, hhhhh," Edward wheezed, having an asphyxiation kink and asthma was really a struggle. But, it felt too good for him to care. Every thrust was like a piece of heaven being drip fed into his mouth.

"Brkk, Bh," Edward tried, but his vision was tunneling. Bruce let him go, instead focusing his efforts into destroying waht was left of Edward's composure.

"Huhh," Bruce groaned, "Nnngh fuck you little—yess," Bruce hissed out, barely there himself. "Mine, my little freak,"

Edward warbled a wordless response through his tears, clawing at the mattress as his prostate was abused again and again and again.

Bruce was laughing through it all, head lolling on Edward's shoulder, hips moving at a bruising pace. "This is it-" he said quietly, "Take it—Edward-!"

Edward sobbed breathlessly as a tidal wave of pleasure knocked him lose, and he flailed about. Bruce held him down, biting onto his shoulder and pushing into him like he was trying to wear his skin. Edward's eyes slipped shut when he felt Bruce filling him, clawing at him, really truly taking him.

Everything went blank for a moment, and when Edward came to he was on his back. He heard the shower running, and quiet humming.

He stood on wobbly legs and made his way to the bathroom door, pushing it open. Bruce didnt' look at him when he closed the door behind him, or when he shed his shirt and went under the spray with him.

"Robert Frost." Bruce said.

"Huh?"

"The poem. What did it mean?" Bruce asked.

Edward grinned against Bruce's damp back, "The point of riddles is to figure them out Bruuuce," he said. Bruce scoffed, shrugging Edward off.

"It's been on my mind…you-" Bruce glanced at Edward, "Nevermind."

Bruce told himself that if this ever happened again, that he wouldn't let himself get tangled up in the Riddler's pathetic current, but here he was again, with the Riddler gathered into his arms, again.

Edward fiddled with Bruce's hands, his fingers, and Bruce let him.

He just keep letting him.

Chapter Text

What did it mean to like something? Bruce wasn't sure.

He hated how alcohol tasted, but liked how it made him feel. So, maybe he liked being drunk.

He was pretty sure he still hated Edward, despite making time to see him once a week, or more, depending on what he wanted.

The behavior was depraved. Bruce had no business hooking up with a fan, and one who was so obviously mentally unwell at that.

It was wrong, but Bruce was too far gone to care.

Nobody said his name like Edward did, nobody worshipped his hands like Edward did, nobody yielded so completely to his whims like Edward did.

Edward: bruce

Edward: bruce

Edward: bruce i wanna see you

Edward: i know ur reading these lololololol

Edward: image

"Oh my god, please silence your phone," Selina groaned, looking up from her book. Bruce squinted at her, but patted the couch for his phone. After digging in the cushion behind him, he found it, opened the notifications, and choked.

"FFu—k" Bruce choked, slamming his phone face down on his lap.

Selina furrowed her brows, "What? Do you have the Gotham Gazette notifications on again? That shit isn't good for your mental dude, I told you," Selina said.

Bruce shook his head, "No, um," he cleared his throat, "Uh, Jesus,"

Bruce was hard, because of course he was. It took nothing for Edward to get him desperate, even through a blurry image like this.

"Oh my god—Bruce really?" Selina said, hiding her face beind her book, "Jesus go to him and get that taken care of. I don't need you getting hard ons in my apartment—shoo! Leave, goodbye," She said, kicking Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce sighed, "Yeah ok, whatever." he stood and adjusted himself, and grabbed his bag. "I uh, probably won't be available for a day or so,"

"Used to be only a few hours," Selina said, "But he's got you wrapped around his little finger now huh?"

Yes.

"No." Bruce sneered at the thought, "I'm not weak like he is. I'm the one using him,"

Selina snorted, "Well, put that angst toward our new album then."

Bruce grunted, running a hand through his hair and stalking out of Selina's apartment.

So fucking weak.

Bruce: come outside now

Edward resisted the urge to kick his feet. Lately, he'd been learning all of Bruce's weak spots, he was basically an expert in getting Bruce to drop everything and come see him.

It felt good.

Edward shrugged on his jacket and put on his face mask, practically running out of his apartment, and hurrying down the stairs. He carefully skipped the second to last step, which caved in more often than not, and burst out the back door.

Bruce's corvette was waiting, and Edward grinned.

"You really should be careful driving this car around here Bruuce," Edward said as he got in the car.

"Shut up, don't talk," Bruce snapped, shifting the car into gear and roughly pulling off.

Edward squirmed in his seat, glancing over at Bruce, then down at his hands.

"I still have it on, by the way," Edward said quietly. He noted the slight hitch in Bruce's breath, and giggled when Bruce ran the last light before their stop.

Over the past few years, the luxurious Orchard hotel became known more and more for being the scene of scandalous celebrity hook-ups. Anyone who was anyone knew.

Edward picked at a hangnail as Bruce pulled up to the entrance. Bruce pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed them haphazardly to the valet. Edward let himself be yanked by the forearm out of the car and into the hotel lobby.

"Keep your hood up," Bruce muttered, striding off to the front desk.

Edward shoved his hands in his pocket and ducked his head. He quietly resented these parts of Bruce's life. The designer clothes, the nice hotels, the car…well, maybe he was just envious of that one.

"Come on," Bruce said when he came back from the desk with the room key.

Edward followed him wordlessly.

He hadn't been lying.

Bruce wasn't sure how long he'd been staring, or how much longer he wanted to stare. Maybe for an hour or two.

Fuck, he was hopeless.

The black silicone plug lodged in Edward's ass wobbled as his muscles spasmed around it. Bruce had his hands braced on Edward's thighs, keeping them spread apart, staring mesmerised at the plug.

"B-bruce…ngh, aren't you gonna…" Edward whimpered, squirming under Bruce's hands.

"You don't do or fucking say anything until I tell you do," Bruce said, tracing the base of the plug with his finger. After a while, he reached forward and yanked the plug from Edward's hole, cussing as the pink muscle winked around nothing.

Edward was crying, like usual.

"You're so fucking pathetic," Bruce murmured, leaning forward and tracing his tongue along Edward's rim. Edward shouted, arching himself back against Bruce's mouth. Bruce's eyes fluttered closed, and he gripped Edward's thighs hard enough to bruise.

Bruce let himself wander through the haze of his lust, slurping obscenely at Edward's hole, and wriggling his tongue past the tight muscle and touch him even deeper.

Nothing was enough.

Edward groaned and panted, begging to touch himself.

"No," Bruce said.

"Puh-puhleasee…oh god Bruce, fuck—" Edward wailed. Bruce felt his lips curling, he continued, plunging his tongue deeper into Edward's hole, resisting the urge to hump the mattress. He wasn't even sure if he'd need to; just this was enough.

Edward's voice reached the register it did when he was about to cum, so Bruce grabbed the other man's cock and squeezed.

"Nooo," Edward cried, "Noo, Bruce—please, please please, fuck—" Edward sobbed into his arms.

Bruce hummed in mock pity, despite the fact that he himself was teetering dangerously over the edge. He slurped at Edward's hole a few more times before pulling back, and running a hand through his hair.

"Ngh, Bruce…" Edward rolled about on the bed until he was on his back. Bruce leaned down, caging Edward between his arms and kissing him messily.

Edward groaned as Bruce shoved his taste in his mouth, and tangled their tongues together. Bruce reached down blindly, grabbing the base of his cock and pressing it against Edward's wet hole.

"Ngh Bruce, huuh, you're so amazing I…ugh," Edward slurred, casting his head to the side. Bruce was half listening, pushing one of Edward's thighs up to his chest, and sliding fully inside of him.

"You what?" Bruce said breathlessly, willing himself not to cum helplessly in Edwards perfect heat.

"Ugh," Edward grunted. He was gone. Bruce composed himself as best he could, and began to move.

They both shuddered, and Bruce's movements were stiff and stuttering.

It wasn't enough, he cussed, and came, not even 15 seconds later.

Edward, taken by surprise, followed suit wtih a sob, throwing his head back on the pillow.

Bruce buried his face in Edward's neck, "Fuck—you little, you…" he tried, but the aftershocks ripping through his body left him speechless.

"S'ok Bruce," Edward said lowly, with a touch of smugness, "Happened to me all the time before we met."

"…what?"

"Heuh heuh heuh…when I started jerking off to pictures of you, sometimes…I couldn't even last a minute…but it always felt so good."

Bruce didn't say anything, but felt himself harden half way, still buried inside of Edward's hole.

"Shut up," Bruce whimpered, "Fffuck…oh my god,"

Edward grinned, wrapping his arms around Bruce's shoulders, and holding him until he was ready to go again.

Latr, in the bath, Edward's fingers pressed rhythmically into Bruce's left arm. Bruce regocnized the feeling, and pulled Edward against him.

"You play guitar," Bruce said, it wasn't a question.

"Started with guitar…I play bass mostly now…mostly to your songs." Edward sighed, bringing Bruce's forearm up until it was flush against his neck. Bruce swallwoed a groan, bringing his other arm around Edward's middle.

"You and Selina are good by yourselves…but there's a gap in your sound," Edward said, "I used to wonder if it was intentional, now I'm not sure,"

It was and wasn't. They'd had a bassist before, one of Selina's friends. But the chemistry just wasn't there, so they structured most of their songs flow around the obvious musical gap. Bruce played in a lower register most of the time anyway, so the absence was hardly an issue to the avarage listener.

"It's intentional," Bruce eventually responded. Sometimes when he wrote, though, the ideas fell onto the page with a bass thrumming in the back of his mind. And Edward, Riddler, even further.

Edward had only seen Selina twice in the months since he and Bruce had started their…thing.

Edward offhandly mentioned wanting to dabble with a pedlaboard that wasn't falling apart, and have the quiet of a proper studio.

So, the next day, while a pleasant ache radiated down Edward's lower body, Bruce brought him to his studio.

Selina was there; Bruce seemed surprised. She was dabbling on a keyboard, and didn't notice them for a moment until she looked up.

"Oh," Selina's eyebrows raised slightly, "Hey,"

Edward felt awkaward, but he brought one hand up in a wave, "Hi…"

Bruce looked between them for a moment, before gesturing to an amp at the other end of the room, "Plug in there, that shitty thing you have isn't gonna sound right."

"Don't be rude Bruce," Selina sighed, "Some people can't afford thousand dollar amps with adjustable input delay or…whatever the fuck that thing has,"

Edward took his portable amp off and approached the supposedly thousand dollar one cautiously.

Bruce snorted, "S'not gonna bite you,"

"…right, yeah," Edward shrugged off his instrument and plugged it in. He floated his fingers above the strings, then froze when he noticed the two sets of eyes watching him.

Pretty people made him really, really nervous.

"U-um," he swallowed, "Sorry uh,"

"Play," Bruce said. Selina shot him a look, but Edward complied.

Bruce didn't want to admit how please he was with Edward's skill on the bass, not with words.

He also didn't want to admit how good they all sounded together. Edward's improvisation was flawless, and wound around their melodies effortlessly. It was satisfying, and now that the sound was there, neither Bruce nor Selina could imagine their music without it.

Weeks of practice sessions went by, and Selina kept giving Bruce that look, and he could only shrug it off for so long.

"But it'll be obvious who he is," Bruce hissed, eyes trained on Edward playing through the studio window. Selina messaged her temples, "We can just…say it was an ARG or something, I dunno, but—" she gestured at Edward, "Nobody else we've met sounds like he does. Bruce, be reasonable,"

Reasonable. When Bruce was around Edward, he was anything but.

Still, Selina was right. And it made sense. What sensible person would turn down an opportunity like this.

"Our branding is gonna need a massive overhaul," Bruce sighed. Selina squealed, "Oh my god yesss, finally," She said, throwing her arms around him. Edward looked up from his bass, and smiled tentatively.

"As long as you're happy," Bruce said.