Chapter Ten: His Queen

A/N: I had a lot more fun writing this than I should have ;)


Oswald began to take a permanent residence in my humble abode. We'd spoken about living together many times in the past but the 'incident in the office' had only reinforced the point. I had a brief meeting with my land lord who had no qualms as I always had my rent paid on time, and he'd received very few noise complaints. True to his word, Oswald appointed Tomas as my body guard.

Tomas and I were well acquainted. In the past, he'd driven me from place to place. As Gabe recalled, Tomas had originally been one of Frankie Carbone's men but after being given a substantial pay rise, the dark-haired muscular man that he was belonged to Oswald.

Because Tomas was going to be around me for the better part, I refused for him to sleep on the couch.

It was his first day alone with me as I made up a guest room which was down the hall from my bedroom. As I was making the bed, Tomas stood in the doorway with watchful eyes, and an otherwise stoic expression. Like Gabe, he wore a suit; he wore a slate gray jacket over a charcoal long-sleeve shirt, and matching gray tie. He was a man of few words; he rarely spoke unless spoken to.

I glanced back at Tomas who continued to watch me even when I met his eyes.

"See something you like, Tomas?" I questioned calmly.

"Not at all."

I tested his loyalty. After being touched by a pig like Mack, I shuddered at any man touching me ever again…. except Oswald, of course. Now that I would have another man living under my roof, I needed that assurance, the knowing that if I decided to have a few shots of whiskey, he wouldn't betray my trust.

"'Not at all'?" I repeated, straightening. "You don't think I am attractive?"

"You're very beautiful," Tomas said calmly, remaining poised in the doorway. "Anyone can see that."

"What exactly did Penguin ask you to do?"

"To protect you."

"What were his exact words."

"I don't understand," Tomas replied robotically.

I approached him, and he didn't flinch. He stood taller than me, taller than Oswald even. I tilted my head back even to meet his eyes as I stood directly in front of him. He returned my gaze with a blank one.

"Tell me his exact instructions."

"He said that I should protect you, no matter the cost." Tomas said truthfully. "He didn't give me any specifics."

I narrowed my eyes at him, seeing if he would fold under my stare. When he didn't, I clicked my tongue and waved my hand to the bed.

"This is your room. I changed the sheets. The room has been used a few times, but my brother has a tendency to go to a buddy's place than sleep at mine."

Tomas said seriously, "Your brother…. the detective?"

"The one and only," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry about him. He doesn't visit as often as he used to."

"Why is that?"

"Who knows—when he gets dumped again, maybe he will," I replied sarcastically. "I hear he's dating some doctor lady working at Arkham. We'll see how long this one lasts. I'll give you the grand tour, if you like."

"I'd love one, Ma'am."

I gestured for him to follow and he did. He kept his hands clasped in front of him. The way he walked reminded me of a boy who had grown too quickly, and hadn't been able to experience childhood. And to me, he was that—a boy. He was at least five years younger than me, mid-twenties. Despite his youth, the way he spoke was always in a deep voice and very professional.

I presented the bathroom, the kitchen, and what was now my and Oswald's bedroom.

"And there's the grand tour," I chuckled, crossing my arms. "Do you have a girlfriend, Tomas?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Well, I doubt that will last forever," I mused, smirking. "You're Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding. I'm sure you'll find one eventually. So, I'll just lay the rules out now, shall I?"

"If you like."

"Then I will. If you do get a girl…. or a guy…. whomever—they may spend the night, but you will be responsible for whatever they break, take, what-have-you." I told him calmly as I strode in the kitchen (And he followed, naturally). "I don't like parties and there's a certain twenty-four hour quiet-time in this complex. If you ever wish to have a place for yourself within the complex, let me know; the landlord and I have a mutual liking and he can be persuaded."

"You're so certain he would give me a place?"

"One-hundred ten percent certain. He has a crush on me."

Tomas frowned.

"Don't be concerned," I comforted, tapping his shoulder. "It's nothing sordid. He's sixty years old and he's happily married with two children, and four grandchildren. I'm just eye candy."

"Should I talk to this man?"

"Like I said. Don't be concerned." I emphasized. "He's very happily married."

Tomas sat at the dining table. His hands went underneath and his eyes widened. Curious, he bent over and he pulled out a weapon. His look of surprise made me laugh.

"There's also a gun behind the refrigerator, toilet, and a knife taped under the sink," I informed casually. "On my side of the bed, I have a switch blade, so if you ever do feel the need to wake me up in the middle of the night, please announce yourself."

"Duly noted," Tomas exhaled wearily. He looked around: "Do you have any actual security system? Like a burglar alarm?"

"No. Do you think I need one?"

"It wouldn't hurt. If I can't protect you, then the police would still be coming, regardless of what happens to me."

"People depend on the police way too much in this city."

"You said your brother was a detective."

"He's only one man," I debated. "And he isn't the first to hear of anything that happens to me. He's normally the last."

"May I ask why?" Tomas said politely, standing.

"You could, but it would bore you. You are paid to protect me—not to listen to the in-and-outs of my family drama. Isn't that right?"

He nodded dutifully. And just as he did, there was a knock on the door.

"Were you expecting anyone?" Tomas questioned briskly.

"No, but—"

"Stay here," He instructed, holding his hand out.

Wow, he's another James Gordon.

I sighed, rolling my eyes before opening the refrigerator carelessly. I took out a chilled bottle of whiskey, placing noisily on the counter before taking a glass from the cabinet. Tomas glanced back at me, annoyed, but he inched forward to the door.

There was another knock.

I strode forward, but Tomas pulled me aside. He pulled his gun out of his jacket and wrenched open the door. Oswald stood in the doorway with Tomas' gun staring him right in the face. When Tomas saw that it was him, he immediately put the safety back on and shoved it in his inner pocket.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, boss! I thought—" Tomas exclaimed.

Oswald held a hand up, silencing him. He was smiling.

"It's nice to know you're doing your job," Oswald praised, moving past him. "You've met Gabe before, haven't you?" He referred to the large man that accompanied him inside the apartment, holding two big brown bags.

"Why didn't you say it was him?" Tomas questioned of Gabe, looking more annoyed than ever. "I could have shot Penguin!"

"He wanted to test you," Gabe explained lowly. "And pipe down, man, you passed."

I glanced at the men before turning to Oswald who smiled happily at me.

"How was your meeting with the land lord?" He asked.

"Uneventful. But it went well. I just finished making the guest room, laying down the rules—that sort of thing. How's the renovation?"

Oswald gestured for Gabe to come hither and the latter strode into the kitchen, placing the brown paper bags on top of the table then strolled back into the living room to continue his conversation of what-have-you with Tomas, who crossed his arms while speaking.

I peeked inside the bags. I couldn't suppress a smile when I realized they were groceries. I gave it a glance before turning to Oswald for an explanation.

"You've cooked for me many times," Oswald said generously, taking my hand. "I thought I would make dinner tonight for a change."

"Enchanté, Prince Charming," I snickered. "I've never had a man cook for me. Spoiling the hell out of little ole me."

He rolled his eyes humorously at my tease.

"And you went grocery shopping with Gabe?"

"He knows steak better than the butcher," Oswald complimented—a comment that didn't go unheard by Gabe, who grinned at the approval.

Thomas and Gabe were discussing some sport or another.

I rolled my eyes, muttering, "Men."

"Don't I know," Oswald agreed, looking at them both.

"Gotham Knights are gonna win this summer," Gabe insisted, gesticulating passionately.

"They haven't won all year," Tomas argued. "You'll be switching to the Gotham Griffins before nightfall!"

"What are you all arguing about?" I questioned.

"Baseball," Gabe and Tomas answered simultaneously as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Unbelievable," Oswald said under his breath, rolling his eyes.

He moved past me and started putting away the groceries, ignoring them.

"Look, look!" Gabe turned on the television, walked to the screen, and pointed furiously at it. "Do you see those scores? Look at that—your team is garbage, man."

"They're having a bad day," Tomas agreed. "But they'll be up in the winnings. They just need to get rid of a few people and they'll be at the top before you know it."

"Top? What top? They're barely in the middle!"

I snickered, "You traded two grown bodyguards for a couple of kids, Ozzie."

Oswald said pointedly, "Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, first things first, you put the milk in the cabinet and the cereal in the refrigerator."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. He rectified his mistake just as Gabe and Tomas were starting in about placing bets on whose team would win and whose team would be the top of some weird diagram (I don't know sports). Oswald slammed the cereal box on the counter, making all parties (myself included) jump.

"Take it outside," Oswald said irritably, gesturing to the door. "Or change the godforsaken topic!"

Gabe and Tomas exchanged uneasy looks.

"Wanna go get a drink?" He asked Tomas, who looked at me inquisitively.

"I'm fine," I excused him. "Go with him. Please."

Tomas and Gabe patted each other on the back like brothers, closing the door on their way out. I turned to Oswald who sighed sharply in frustration.

"Remodeling a club is putting a lot of stress on you, huh?" I said knowingly as I poured the whiskey into a shot glass and tossed it back; the after taste made my jaw clench, but damn, did it feel good.

"The remodeling, no." Oswald said briskly.

"Then what?"

"It's nothing. I've had a headache all day."

"I can punch you in the balls, that should take your mind off of that," I responded smartly, pouring another whiskey shot and downing it easily.

Oswald gave me a look of mixed irritation and confusion.

I apologized, "That's what I used to tell Jim when he complained about anything. But in all honesty, I can see you're exhausted. I'll make dinner tonight."

"Sylvia—"

"I have two shots of whiskey in me already, babe," I warned in a sweet voice. "I'm getting my way."

I unbuttoned his jacket; he shrugged it off and laid it across the kitchen table, and loosened his tie. Softly, I said, "Take a shower, take time to decompress. I'll make dinner, we'll eat and…well…. we'll go from there, hmm?"

I tugged the collar of his shirt towards me, and pulled him into a kiss. My tongue teased the line where his lips met and he gave into me. My other hand dropped between us and I palmed his cock through his pants. Feeling the pressure of my hand groping him, Oswald let out a quiet involuntary moan; and I couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Or we could skip the shower and dinner altogether," I suggested furtively.

I unzipped his pants, unbuckled his belt, and slid my hand inside his trousers and boxers, rubbing my fingers along his naked semi-erection, still growing in my hand. He held my shoulders, fingertips digging. Our kiss became hungrier. I prodded his tongue with my own, moving the battle into his mouth, dominating.

"That might be best, actually," Oswald muttered, his hands fell to my waist, pushing me back a little.

I laid kisses from his jaw to his ear and purred, "Mm….and why is that?"

"Deadline for reopening is twenty-four hours."

"As according to whom?"

"Who do you think?" Oswald responded sardonically.

He started to push me aside. I took him by the shoulders and shoved him back against the refrigerator; the appliance vibrated, and the contents inside rattled. Oswald's eyes widened at my reaction and I smiled at him.

"I told you to decompress," I said firmly. "Worrying about deadlines is not decompressing."

Oswald stiffened with a retort: "I think you've had enough to drink, Sylvia."

"On a contrary, baby, I haven't had enough."

I shoved my mouth against his—the fire from the whiskey erupted in my belly; I could feel it flowing through every vessel in my body. It was going to my head. I lined my fingers along the nape of his neck, my thumb grazing down his throat. I rolled my hips into his; his hard-on pressed against my stomach.

His hands were on my hips, feeling my body move against him. To regain control, Oswald started to reach for my neck; I caught it and just like the rest of him, I pinned his wrist against the refrigerator.

"You have such a controlling nature," I chuckled darkly. "You really need to learn to let go."

I backed off. And the sight of him so disheveled, his shirt was no longer tucked in, his pants unzipped and his cock was fully erect; he was pink in the face—it was just too great.

I returned back to unpacking the grocery bags like nothing happened. Then I felt him move behind me. He reached for my shoulders, spun me around and seized my mouth with his. Oswald pushed himself against me, grinding his cock between my legs; the friction was too delicious that I let it go on for a moment before I shoved him off me.

"Is that all you got?" I taunted.

He grabbed for me again, but I jumped back. I ran into the bedroom, waited behind the door. When he strode inside, I came out of hiding, and I pushed him forward on the bed; he glared at me indignantly from his back. I straddled his waist.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Oswald snapped.

Seeing his eyes blazing, I knew he was getting pissed off—if he wasn't already. But that's what I wanted. He shifted underneath me, but I remained sitting on him. He tried to sit up; I placed my hand on his chest and moved him onto his back once more.

"You're not meeting any deadlines."

"Falcone expressly said—"

"—Falcone is not in charge here, I am!" I retorted hotly.

Oswald's eyes widened at my response. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, his nose, and met his lips with a contrasting softness that hadn't been displayed in the kitchen.

"I told you that you needed to learn to let go," I unbuttoned his vest and shirt. "If only for a moment. Now, sit up."

He did as I said, however irritably. I collected his shirt and vest and dropped them on the floor beside the bed. Once more, I leaned forward and kissed his lips. As annoyed as he was, he didn't return it—not that I expected him to.

"I've given myself to you many times. My submission is a gift. Just like yours will be."

"I am not—"

I clamped my hand over his mouth, forcing him once more on his back. He hissed behind my palm.

"Trust me, baby. If you didn't like this idea, you wouldn't be lying down for it…. literally. You have no restraints" (I indicated the free movement of his arms and legs) "and you have yet to tell me 'no'."

Oswald glared up at me in defiance, and oh my lord, did I love seeing it.

"It'll stay between us. No one will ever know." I confided. "I can give you what you are afraid to ask for."

I removed my hand from his mouth, and he just stared at me—but I could see the wanton in his eyes. I stood and closed the bedroom door, locking it. Oswald slowly sat up.

"Now…. if you feel me crossing a boundary, do tell me." I said, approaching the end of the bed.

He nodded in understanding.

"Good. Now get undressed." I ordered.

At first, he hesitated, and I waited. He looked like he might protest but with some afterthought, he stood to his feet and shuffled out of his pants and boxers. I smiled when he also took his shoes and socks off. When he sat back down on the bed, the pink his face became red: humility. But that cock of his had never been stiffer.

I pulled my shirt over my head, unbuttoned my jeans, and I shimmied out of them so I was left in black lingerie. Oswald took me in, his lips parted a little. When I approached him, he held out his hands to touch me. I took them in my own, and placed them on my stomach, and guided them up my sides, my ribs, and then over my breasts. They lingered there over the lacy fabric, before I continued to guide them down my body, past my stomach, and then over my thighs. He watched his hands as if they were not his own, transfixed.

"Move to the middle of the bed."

Oswald did as he was told, reluctantly. I joined him there.

"Do you trust me, Oswald?"

He nodded.

"Who is in charge?"

Oswald said calmly, "You."

"And what am I to you?"

He opened his mouth to answer, only to realize he didn't know.

"Trick question," I snickered. "I never said."

He sent me a glare.

"I've always said you're my King of Gotham," I mused, lying down on the bed. I slipped off my panties and bra. "In medieval times, the king ruled over everyone: the peasants, his knights, the entire realm. Anyone who stepped forward to contest him was put to death, or worse. When the King summoned, the people answered. He, however, answered to no one."

Oswald's eyes were dilated even before I began touching myself: one hand on my breast, the other cupping my sex. I slowly circled my index and middle finger around my clit, feeling the small sparks of pleasure tickle my brain and stoke the burning, aching feeling between my legs.

Stifling the moan that tried to escape, I continued: "And just as the King answers to no one, he bows to no one. No one, but his Queen. Taking from that narrative, Ozzie. I'll ask again. What am I to you?"

Oswald moved closer to me.

"A Queen," He whispered.

"Good boy," I praised, smiling widely. "Now bow to me."

Completely willing, Oswald moved between my legs, his hands on my inner thighs as he lowered his head to my fingers that rotated around my swollen clit, kissing them. Every action he made was meticulous and gentle, but I could sense his controlling nature trying to break out; he held back a lot of restraint not to flip me on my stomach and shove his swollen member into me.

He kissed my fingers again as I continued to tease my clit, before he dipped down and licked between my wet folds. I allowed my head to fall back into the mattress, closing my eyes when his tongue delved deeper inside.

"That's it, baby," I mumbled. "Oh my god, yes…."

Oswald pushed my hand away from my clit, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves. I glanced down to see him do so, and his eyes met mine. He was watching my every reaction, holding onto every whisper and moan of approval. I tangled my hand in his hair, pulling the soft locks and I felt a pleasurable chill shoot down my spine when I heard him moan—the sound alone was titillating but the vibrations it caused nearly pushed me over the edge, involuntarily arching my back.

I felt two fingers push inside my pussy. In an instant, my nails dug into the comforter beneath me; I heard the naughty, wet sounds my body was making as he thrusted them in and out of me. My toes curled, my neck tensed, and I nearly forgot to breathe!

"Fuck!" I whimpered—I felt the knot tighten in my belly, my body becoming desperate for release.

Not yet.

I pushed Oswald away from me, grabbed a handful of his hair and shoved my mouth on his. I tasted my excitement on his tongue, and I grinned widely when I heard him moan in need.

"Get on your back." I commanded.

He quickly complied. I straddled his waist, and saw the precum leaking from the slit of his cock.

"You enjoyed that more than me, I think," I taunted, wrapping my hand around his taut member. "Is that right?"

"Yes…."

"Yes, what?" I asked firmly. I rubbed the head of his cock against my wet entrance.

Oswald responded, "Yes, my Queen."

"Mm…. you're a quick learner. Then again, I knew that already."

Oswald clutched at the comforter; his knuckles paled white. The mixed look of pain and pleasure on his face made me grin. I couldn't help but feel just a little sadistic about this whole thing. I slipped a finger inside my pussy, fingering myself until I covered my whole hand in my excitement and used it to coat his cock. He groaned, the muscles in his neck tensing as well as the rest of him.

"Please…." Oswald whimpered.

"What's the matter, baby?"

His jaw tightened as I rolled his cock in my hands.

"You want to be inside of me, don't you?" I teased. "What if I chose to leave you like this? What if I chose to walk away? What would you do?"

"Sylvia, please."

I moved my hand underneath him, kneading his balls gently in my hand. This seemed to be the kicker.

"Fuck," he gasped.

"Beg for it, Ozzie. Beg to be inside of me."

He glared up at me—ah, that defiance. I squeezed his cock in my hand, and he let out a needy whimper.

"Stop trying to resist," I demanded. "You want something from me, I need to hear it from you first."

Oswald seemed to struggle with the terms. Then I began to stand.

"Please, pigeon," He pleaded, his voice was strained in desire. "Please, I beg of you!"

I grinned down at him: "Was that so hard?"

I lined him beneath my pussy and slowly sank down. His moan caught in his throat as I started finding a pace; his hips lifted to mine eagerly. Oswald reached up to touch me; I grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head; his hands balled into fists.

"Give into it. Let…go."

I kissed him, hard enough that it hurt. He groaned into my mouth but I felt his body slacken, the tension slowly leaving.

"That's it, baby. That's it. Give in just like that."

The pace quickened, I bounced harder, feeling his cock shove deep inside of me. The headboard hit the wall each time I sank down on him. His once stifled moans became loud, and unrestrained. I kept his wrists pinned above him, but I smiled when his hands relaxed.

"I'm close," Oswald keened. "Please, Pigeon, don't stop…. fuck…."

I rode him hard, my own release quickly approaching. I had no intentions of stopping, and the sounds he made only spurred me on. When his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and his back arched, that was all I needed to see before my orgasm struck home. My walls tightening around him. His body nearly convulsed as I felt his cock twitch and release himself inside of me. I sighed deeply; he was panting, but I had never seen him look more content.

I slowly raised my hips and he slid out of me.

"I'll get dinner started," I said softly.

I kissed his cheek; he turned his head so it landed on his lips and he passionately reciprocated.

"Thank you," Oswald uttered hazily.

"Don't mention it," I said lovingly. "For what it's worth, vulnerability looks good on you—but only when I cause it." I winked at him, and he looked after me for a few seconds before he started getting dressed again.

After all, he had to meet a deadline.