Why on god's earth had he invited this imbecile in his hiding place in the first place? Had he been forsaken by all good spirits? Jonathan rubbed his aching forehead and stared irritably out of his still healthy eye at the noisy tinkerer next to him. The Riddler chewed a bit absent-mindedly on a piece of chalk, studying the green board in front of him. Again and again the limestone squeaked in the mouth of the black-haired man, making the Master of Fear flinch inwardly. The lean man cracked his fingers threateningly, but tried to keep his anger under control and asked cautiously: "Help me out for a second, Edward. Did I understood you right? You're convinced that we would have a much greater chance of getting in unnoticed through one of the countless supplier entrances? Do you have another great idea that is at least not as stupid as this one?" The addressee growled angrily and put his hands on his hips, almost indignantly. His blue eyes stared over at him, fixed with a derogatory expression on Jonathan's completely ruined face. Edward finally sighed after a minute and took the black coffee mug with the green question marks on the table in front of him, took a small sip. The Riddler kept the porcelain close to his lips, when he replied arrogantly: "Well, what can I say to that now, Crane? Just because you can't achieve my ingenuity and don't want to admit that you don't have a clue of what I've been talking about for the last half hour, doesn't mean that my plan has even one small flaw. It's perfect." His counterpart tilted his head a little to one side, stared at the black-haired man with dark opals. Did the inventor know what extremely thin ice he was walking on right now? The sinister professor often had nerves of steel, but Edward seemed to overtax them on purpose to make him finally snap and jump at his throat. The former psychiatrist ignored the urge to affectionately strangle the black-haired man, just mumbled softly: "Are you seriously trying to make me laugh now, Edward? If so, I would like to congratulate you sincerely for archiving your goal – I am delighted at your mental limitations." The inventor put the coffee mug on the table a little too lively, willingly accepted that a considerable amount of the contents spilled over. The bitter liquid ran unhindered over the blueprint of the old chemical plant and immediately began to combine with the paper. The unsightly, brown stain slowly spread across the greyish leaf. The Riddler turned completely to his companion and growled clearly pissed-off: "Limitations? What the actual fuck, John! Did you notice that I am completely superior to you on every level? It's a simple fact, Crane. My brain works better, more efficiently and above all faster than the dusty C64 in your ugly skull." The brown-haired man took a few long breaths, trying to calm himself down. Both eyelids were twitching noticeably under the onset of emotional stress. Jonathan pressed his lips together very tightly and propped himself up on the table in front of him, looking more intimidating than usual in this position. After a while he hissed, barely audible: "I only warn you once, Edward: don't go too far. I may seem very controlled, but I also have limits and you are way too close in the process of exceeding them. You certainly don't want to experience first hand what happens afterwards."
"Oh come on, Crane, don't be ridiculous. What is supposed to happen after it?", the black-haired man snapped almost disrespectfully and laughed dryly, "Are you going to torture me or maybe pump me full of your silly fear toxin? Or do you prefer to kill me right here, right now? Don't be a fool, John. We both know, that if you start threatening me, you'll always back off in the end. You don't have the guts to do anything, so stop being a fucking drama queen." This statement crossed the invisible line for the Master of Fear. The gaunt man closed the gap between them and leaned close to the tinkerer's ear. He consciously breathed deeply into it for a while, then whispered in a playful friendly manner: "Really? So, I don't have the courage to actual harm you. Are you really sure about that, Ed? I think I should do some persuasion, don't you think?" Before the Riddler could reply, the sinister professor had grabbed his neck and pressed his face onto the table with a flowing, powerful movement. Jonathan tightened his grip, using his body weight to hold the rogue firmly under him. The inventor was apparently too surprised to do anything at first, then began to struggle almost convulsively against the attacker. Edward let out a slight gasp, then finally turned his face to one side with the greatest effort to shift the pressure on his right cheek. He spat angrily: "Are you fucking kidding me, John? Let me go you, brain-amputated idiot! I swear to you, I'll kick your bony ass so much that you won't be able to walk for the next three weeks! Just because you are verbally more than inferior to me you don't need to resort to cheap, physical tricks to prove your non-existent manhood." The former psychiatrist clawed his fingers into the pulsating flesh, making no move to let go of the black-haired man. He just pressed the Riddler more firmly on the counter top. The Master of Fear gritted his teeth and thought hard, looked for creative ways to put the disrespectful rogue in his place. Fear toxin? That wasn't a bad idea in itself, but Edward probably expected such a punishment. Beatings or other forms of violence? No, Jonathan was far too cultured for that. Suddenly he felt a strong, overwhelming impulse in his much too thin body. He leaned more clearly against the tinkerer's back and breathed alarmingly calmly in his ear: "Cheap tricks? I'm actually about to start laughing out loud. Oh Edward, you don't even know what kind of trouble you got yourself into this time. Of course I have other ways to break you and finally leave you speechless."
He could feel the goosebumps spreading on the Riddler's neck. It was difficult to judge whether this was due to fear or whether the younger one was simply sensitive to touching his ear. In the end, that mattered only marginally. The man below was now puffing very loudly and hissing with audible uncertainty in his voice: "Bring it on, Crane. This task is way too big for you. Before you archive to silence me, Joker officially rules Gotham as the elected and beloved mayor of the dense inhabitants!" The Master of Fear felt his blood boil. It was literally seething in his veins, flowing urgently through his bloodstream. The red liquid found its way through all the small twists and turns in his hypothermic body and ultimately even into a region that he had rarely considered before. The brown-haired groan softly, was surprised at the first moment by the unfamiliar sound from his throat. Was it really arousing to see Edward in that position right now? Inferior and still fighting back, even if his resistance was noticeably getting weaker? Jonathan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to collect himself. During this attempt he heard the tinkerer's voice again, but this time without any aggression: "What the hell are you up to, John? This isn't funny any more." The black-haired man suddenly trembled for no reason, buried his oil-smeared fingers in the brittle wood of the table. So it wasn't only him that was feeling some kind of attraction. The gaunt man watched the gesture with a certain satisfaction and admitted the thought, that it was basically pointless to deny his desire any longer. He slid his free hand over the Riddler's thigh, gently stroking the inside. The inventor drew in the air sharply and froze to a pillar of salt, apparently taken by surprise at the unexpected touch. As the Scarecrow's hand moved further up, the tinkerer stuttered helplessly: "John, I asked you something. Seriously." The sinister professor chuckled muffled and ran his fingers over the bump in the crotch, carefully touched the palpable contours of the half-stiff member. The younger one groaned loudly to his surprise, but bit the back of his hand immediately after the sound to suppress further noises. Jonathan continued touching and whispered wickedly in the Riddler's ear: "You know exactly what's going to happen now, Ed. I probably don't have to spell it for you first, do I?"
The rogue let go of his hand, the outlines of his teeth were clearly visible as white prints on his skin. He whimpered barely audibly: "This is another bad joke of yours, isn't it? Stop this nonsenses and let's get on with our work, I don't have tim... " His sentence was interrupted by a low scream, when the thin man lasciviously licked his auricle. The tinkerer breathed jerkily, shuddered at the touch of the other. A visible shade of red settled on his cheeks. The Master of Fear unhurriedly opened the stubborn belt of his partner in crime, loosening the tight grip on the black-haired man's neck. Slowly, almost painfully, the hand disappeared under the hem of the trousers and began to look for the object of desire. The inventor seemed about to say something, but couldn't find any more suitable words for this new situation. Instead of angry exclamations, only muffled sounds left his mouth. Edward sighed excitedly and mumbled almost angrily: "I hate you, John. I hate you so damn fucking much, you sick son of a bitch." The older one didn't stop caressing the flesh, rubbing the slightly twitching member of the Riddler with as tender movements as possible. The inventor probably enjoyed it on the one hand, but his almost infinite pride did not want to admit it at the moment. However, as always, the body spoke its own language. The sinister professor whispered calmly: "I'm not even holding you down any more, Edward." This statement was followed by a disapproving snort, but was quickly replaced by more pleasant noises. Jonathan could no longer suppress a mischievous smile as the tinkerer began to harden in his hand. This whole situation did not leave him indifferent either. Giving in to his desire, the brown-haired man detached himself from the man below, pulled him upright with a jerk to turn him around and bump him back onto the table. Without giving him time, the former psychiatrist stepped between his legs and wrapped his arms almost roughly around his waist. The younger one only blushed more and murmured muffled, but hesitantly put his hands on the neck of the Master of Fear, which in the end was more like a spasmodic claw in extremely pale skin. The slight pain penetrated his limbs in a weirdly pleasant way. The former psychiatrist didn't want to wait any longer. Jonathan pushed the dirty shirt off Edward's shoulders and pulled his pants down to his knees, using the space to slip his fingers under the boxer shorts and touched the erect penis.
The tinkerer buried his nails deeper in the white flesh, trembling uncontrollably under the touch of the older man. He spoke almost helplessly: "Don't you dare to stop now. I'll fucking kill you and throw your body into the Gotham River, Crane, if you just think about it." "I don't mean to, Edward", whispered the former psychiatrist, as he slowly took the already wet earlobe between his teeth. A small, wet point in the leftover fabric signalled that the Riddler was more than ready. Further caresses on Edward's throat with the leather-like fingertips produced a multitude of aroused sounds. The Master of Fear finally took off the underwear and risked a first look at the penis of his partner, watched with fascination as it twitched in his hand and literally screamed for more attention. Jonathan groaned cautiously, opened the zipper on his own dark pants a little clumsily. He also freed his own hardened member from the now too tight shorts and looked at the black-haired man meaningfully. The lower lip of the inventor began to quiver slightly, and there was a mixture of pleasure and fear in his eyes. The tinkerer finally spoke breathlessly: "What are you waiting for, John? Do it." There was a tremendous uncertainty in his voice. It was probably his first experience in the field - at least with another male. The former psychiatrist couldn't hold back any longer and let some saliva flow into his hand. Proper lubricant was out of reach, so the clear liquid had to be enough. He spread it generously on the sensitive skin and, panting heavily, led the tip to the other's anus. The Riddler closed his eyes, obviously trying to relax for what was to come. A loud scream echoed through the warehouse. Edward shuddered badly, turning slightly in the pain as the brown-haired man entered him slowly and carefully. Jonathan held back the impulse to thrust immediately, stayed quietly in his partner for a while. In the meantime the younger one had pierced the pale skin with his fingers and warm blood ran down the slim neck, becoming invisible in the dark robe Scarecrow was wearing. The tinkerer cursed a little too loudly: "Holy fucking shit, John, be more gentle when you have to relieve yourself like a pathetic animal! Fuck!" This statement kindled the fire in the former psychiatrist and he began to move slowly. The black-haired man's loud protest evaporated quickly, gradually being replaced by growing moans. Apparently the pain was gone too after a few seconds. His fingers moved as if by themselves, touching the pale skin, scratching the Master of Fear over and over again accidentally. Jonathan now groaned throatily to the steady rhythm, lost in the otherwise unknown pleasure. He'd probably never admit it, but it felt good. Incredibly good. Edward was no longer able to talk and just got lost in the moment, moving in unison with the older after a while. The former psychiatrist tightened the grip on his hip and pushed harder into him.
The inventor screamed uncontrollably with every further movement. A growing twitch made it unmistakably clear that he was about to blow. Jonathan felt something coming too. It built up, grew beyond his otherwise clear mind, and robbed him of the ability to think. The tinkerer reached the climax with a gurgling, strange sound, tensed up on the body of the brown-haired man. He was overwhelmed by the unique sight of the otherwise so composed Riddler and now forgot all restraint. His thrusts became more and more uncontrolled. A few seconds passed before the former psychiatrist himself came with an animal growl, unable to postpone the orgasm any further. Both villains were panting heavily, hugging each other for a moment. After a while the Master of Fear looked down at himself and laughed softly, touching the white substance on his robe with his fingers. Edward followed his gaze, only blushing even more by the sight. He punched the thin man hard on the shoulder, hiding a big, satisfied smile.