xA morning's interlude between husbands Edward Nygma and Oswald Cobblepot.


It was one of those dreadfully sunny summer mornings, and most of Gotham was staring blearily into its morning coffee and cursing everyone and everything. At the Cobblepot mansion, however, the morning was mostly still.

Edward Nygma stood in front of the large vanity mirror in the master bedroom, adjusting his tie. He made a mental note to buy a dozen new ones - his darling husband had been inventive lately. He pulled the knot taught, shivering in pleasure at the restriction of his breathing and the immediate soreness from the bruise encircling his neck. He loved the way the bruise formed a deep purple choker, with clearly defined lines of his husband's beautifully slim fingers. The shape never failed to remind him of how much his darling bird loved him. If he squinted, he fancied he could see Oswald's fingerprints.

Oswald Cobblepot (they had decided to keep their own surnames after the wedding) had not yet bothered to get out of bed. Instead, he half-sat reclining against the headboard, admiring his husband's elegant form. Edward really was stunning in his charcoal grey wool suit; it made him look like an enforcer stepped out of one of those old mafia films. His breath grew short.

However, Edward was still completely focused on his reflection, and that just would not do. Oswald adjusted the silk sheets that barely covered his nude form, ensuring that they draped just so. He was covered in wonderfully sore bruises and stinging burns after the night's activities, but still…

"Edward" he called in a soft, sweet voice he knew never failed to catch his husband's attention.

"Hmm?" the man in question stopped digging in the top drawer for his favourite cufflinks, the ones with little gold penguins.

"Last night… I don't know what came over you." Oswald said in as reproachful tone he could muster. "You were primal, brutal. You frightened me."

Edward froze, his heart stuttering in despair. He could terrorize all of Gotham once a day and twice on Fridays, but his husband? He'd rather spend the day working on his tan. He turned to the bed, ready to throw himself at Oswald's feet and beg forgiveness. That's when he saw the devious little smirk.

"Do it again, Liebling." Oswald purred.

Edward was across the room faster than Oswald knew him capable of, pressing passionate kisses up his arm, making sure to bite each bruise.

"My darling" Edward moaned feverishly, "that was german."

They both ended up late for work.