Friday, August 9th, 2024, 22:48

The Riddler's eyes are wide with surprise, and he finds himself pinned face-first on the ground, the needle dangerously poised against his neck. The shock quickly passes as he cranes his neck and grins up at her with admiration.

"Well, well, you still have some fight left after all."

She should have run when she had the chance to. Any sane person would have.

Instead, Eliza relishes the fact that she got the best of him. This time, she does not relent. She grits her teeth as the large needle nicks his skin, coaxing a drop of blood. All her anger, all her frustration, helps keep him pinned beneath her just barely.

"I'm not. A. Fucking. Toy," she seethes.

He attempts to raise and push her off him, but she twists his wrist again, and the pain and potential danger of breaking it stops him. Edward's eyes widen again as he realizes the situation is leaving his favor. He did not know she could defend herself. He thinks that her brother or someone must have taught her. He attempts to grab her from behind his back with his free hand, but she presses the needle deeper into his neck and twists the locked wrist more. She cannot beat him in strength, but her dead weight tripled with the wrist lock, and the syringe at his neck makes him hesitate.

"Let go of me! You don't understand what you're doing." She thinks she hears a hint of panic.

Any sane person would have run when given the chance.

Eliza smiles wickedly. He's broken her.

Frustrated, he grits his teeth, "Oh, I know exactly what I am doing. You can't control me."

She tsks and playfully pouts as she feels empowered. She is strong. She can feel it.

"No, you fucking ape, I can control you."

She emphasizes this by putting pressure on his wrist again, and he yelps. He narrows his eyes.

"Oh, it seems I've hit a nerve. You are playing by my rules now, asshole."

The needle slides deeper into his neck, and he hisses. She knows all the vital structures in this delicate area by heart. She has no idea what is in this syringe, but it cannot be good. Eliza is surprised that she loves the panicked look in his eyes. She is not the same person. She has morphed into something else.

The danger he is in seems to register finally.

"Please, don't do this. I-I won't hurt you anymore."

Interestingly, she feels a warmth in her belly at the sound of his desperation.

"You know, I really, really did like you! I only wanted you to care for me, Edward," she admits to him and herself.

"I—I don't know what you mean. Please let me go, and we can talk about this," he tries to rise, but a hot pain in his neck causes pause.

She glares and growls.

"Oh," she mocks. The growl morphes into a disbelieving laugh. "You don't know something? I'm done with your bullshit, Edward!

"I fucking liked you. I could have loved you. You stalked me, seduced me, and made me care for you, and when I actually fell for it, you pulled away emotionally, retreating into your abusive, twisted obsession. You're a classic narcissist and sociopath, and I now understand why you belong in Arkham. I wanted to care for you, but here I am, just wanting to hurt you right here on my apartment floor."

She leans down and whispers in his ear, as he has done so many times before, "You did this to yourself."

Edward, whom she accurately read to filth, does not feel her concept of love. Eliza's sociopath assessment is spot on. Sociopaths are antisocial manipulators who can understand emotions and empathy, but they lack the same ability to feel the same way as others. They don't want to feel them. They can be charming and pathological liars, using their understanding of emotions to manipulate others for what they want. They can be arrogant, controlling, impulsive, and violent people.

Eliza looks back on everything she experienced, and the evidence is so abundantly clear. She feels a right fool. Feeling this shame, she always believed herself to be an intelligent person trained to read a situation, but she fell for every classic move and ignored every blood-red flag.

He is a dashing, insane, obsessive sociopath.

"Don't do this. Please, I never meant to hurt you."

Her head tilts back as she laughs manically, a laugh she has never heard from herself before.

"Please," she mocks. Please?"

Tears stream from her wild eyes, although she maintains full control of the situation.

"You relished in my fear and hurt. You broke my heart and continued to crush it even after I relinquished myself to you! You meant everything you did to me, Edward. So, don't tell me you didn't mean it! You're a fucking liar!"

His expression shifts from fear to regret. The Riddler may not feel regret, but he understands the hurt he has caused and can mimic it for her. His neck is craned to the side in an awkward position on the floor as he tries to catch her eyes. She does not know what is running through his head but does not trust it.

"I was wrong. Please forgive me," he says with pleading eyes.

She does not yield and revels in his groveling.

"You know, I now understand why you enjoy this so much. Having someone in your grasp and strangling the life out of them. It's intoxicating."

Edward gulps. He does seem afraid now. Where is his sweet nurse? This is not even his naughty nurse.

This is a nightmare nurse.

She is barely recognizable to him, with her strange blonde hair and cut, her new-found ferocity, and her manic presentation. He does not know who this woman is. And maybe - maybe he never knew her all along?

"I don't trust you, Riddler," she spits his alias out between gritted teeth almost frothing at the mouth. Her eyes are still swirling, wide with anger and mania.

"You don't understand," his expression darkens. "I was lost in my own darkness. But now seeing you like this – "

His eyes study her face and the situation," – seeing you like this breaks me."

Eliza studies his face in turn. He seems sincere. She doesn't trust it. And yet. . .

She digs the needle deeper into his neck, the thin tube completely disappearing beneath his skin as he hisses. His breath quickens.

The nurse casually wondered what gauge needle this was. Fourteen gauge? No -twelve? It's entirely too big and big enough to hurt. The sane part of her mind is calling to inject the medication, whatever it is. He is a bad person; he is a villain; he has killed people; he has hurt her physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"You have no capacity for love."

He gently asks, "Maybe I do? I may not experience it like you do, but I can feel admiration, respect, and mutual desire."

She twists the wrist in her hand tighter, causing him to hiss in pain, but the anger seems to be breaking across her face.

"I . . . I don't believe you. You could be saying this to escape and then start this bullshit again."

"I know I hurt you, and your distrust is valid. I am trying to get out of this; I won't lie. But I also know I—" he struggles with his next words, "I messed up. I realize I was and am wrong."

She laughs balefully, "A redemption for you? I don't think you deserve it."

He begs again, "Eliza, please, please forgive me."

She regards him, emotionless, before commanding, "I like you begging. Keep going. . ."

"Eliza, I know I hurt you. But I want to make things right. I don't want to lose you. Give me a chance. Give me a chance to show you I am capable of giving you the affection you deserve."

She doesn't give him any more emotions to sense, although it seems she is mulling over his words.

"Abusers always say they're sorry. . .," her voice trails off as more tears well in her dangerous eyes. She is thinking hard about what to do. She is cracking. This should be an easy decision for her. This should be an easy decision like the previous time before. She should tell him to kick rocks with open-toed shoes.

"I know. I know. I understand your fear and distrust. But I swear to you, things will be different. I promise."

Sweet, sweet Eliza softens her gaze as tears fall from her cheeks and trickle to her t-shirt. She sits on his lower back as she sobs and grits her teeth in anger and resentment.

"I know I can't take back what I did. But please, give me the chance to make it up to you. . ."

If she does this, she is relinquishing her life to him again. He could still turn right around and torture and kill her if he wanted.

Eliza closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out; her tense body relaxes. She is so sore and tired anyway.

Reluctant, she releases his locked wrist, removes the syringe from his neck, and it clatters to the floor next to his head. Eliza collapses to the side of him. She is sobbing uncontrollably into her hands as she sits on her knees.

This is all too much.

Edward slowly rises to a sitting position, massaging his wrist and recovering from the minutes-long awkward position she had him in. Edward sees how distressed she is. Her knees are reddened and bruised from their tussle. Her new wispy hair is messy and wild. Her sweet, round face is twisted in anguish and anger.

He touches her arm gently, and she jumps.

"It's okay. . . I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Please believe me. I know you don't have a reason to, but I'm really trying here."

He scoots closer to her position and tentatively pulls her close to him, and she yields. He continues by pulling her half into his lap. She sobs and sobs and shivers and chokes and coughs and sobs some more. She has been through the wringer.

"Shhh. . . it's okay," he says, comforting her the best he can. He pulls a handkerchief from a pocket in his blazer and wipes her face. It's such a gentleman thing to do.

Why couldn't he be like this before?

She is breathing hard and heaving, and she is so tired. She feels nauseous, nerves and anxiety flaring in her stomach.

After a few minutes, her ragged breathing calms and slows. Her head rests against his chest, and the sound of his steady, strong heartbeat throbs in her ear. His heart is a human one, just like hers.

Eliza is dazed, but her tired eyes see the damage done to his neck; the blood dripped down to stain his white collar. It is so red. It reminds her of the bite he inflicted on her. She tilts her head a little and captures the wound with her mouth delicately. She kisses the area and then gives a soothing lick.

Edward gasps softly as she continues to ease the tender area. Surprised by the sudden, intimate gesture, he holds her tight to his chest, but not too tight.

"That feels nice," he whispers.

She is surprised at his breathlessness. Enjoying his reaction, she continues her ministrations on his neck. The Riddler feels her climb more into his lap, and she adjusts to face him, her legs on either side. Like a reflex, she wraps her arms around the back of his neck, her head craned to the side. He shudders as she kisses and sucks the wound tenderly, a feeling of pleasure and soreness.

The events of the past few months and their most recent engagements flood her brain with pent-up energy that begs to be released. Jerrika would disapprove. But Jerrika, her best friend, is so far away in her mind right now.

Eliza grinds her hips into his. His excitement is apparent as she feels him respond, copying her rocking. She kisses his neck again and then kisses his cheeks, pausing to finally look into the green eyes she has come to admire so. The Riddler runs a gloved hand through her short blonde locks. She pulls away, her arms still around his neck.

". . . I suppose the blonde is not terrible . . .," Edward sighs. "I can't believe this is happening right now."

"I can't believe how clueless you can be for the smartest man in the world."

He chuckles softly, his voice laced with amusement.

"Clueless? Me? Well, I suppose everyone has their blind spots."

"You mean you're admitting that you're not perfect and a gift to all humankind?" she teases him with a nip to the ear that she later sucks.

He moans in response, ". . . shut up."

Silence falls over them in the dark room. So much has happened in the hour. She sits back a little, still straddling his waist, and rests her hands on his chest. She studies his disheveled look.

His suit is wrinkled, his tie is loose, his hat is nowhere in sight, and a pink flush is on his cheeks. He has no idea how delicious he looks right now. Or does he?

The Riddler grins mischievously when he notices Triska's focused gaze. He leans in closer, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Like what you see, my dear?"

"More than you know."

A sigh escapes her pink lips. She closes her eyes and lets a deep breath settle her blazing nerves. A devilish grin creeps onto those lips as she raises a hand to undo his loose tie and then tends to the top button of his shirt. The Riddler smirks and lowers his voice, his hot breath tickling her ear.

"Well, well, looks like someone is feeling bold."

That cocky, sing-song voice that typically annoys her sent shivers up her spine this time. There is so much energy between them, and she needs to expel it, finally. She undoes each button, slowly revealing his chest.

A thought pauses her fingers as she undoes the second–to–last button - before she gets in too deep. She looks up with worried eyes. He peers down at her quizzically.

"Edward. . . please don't hurt me," she says, still unsure of their relationship currently.

He notices her worried look and kisses her cheeks gently, cupping her face in his gloved hands.

"I have no intention of hurting you. I'm sorry you must even request that."

The Rogue is hyperaware of the events of this evening and the last. He may not love her like she wants, but he can love her in his own way. He can respect her and not subject her to the mental, physical, and emotional anguish that should be reserved for his foes.

She smiles tenderly and kisses his nose before finishing the buttons on his shirt. Then, with one hand, she picks up one of his and brings the palm to her face, where she nuzzles against the soft leather of his purple gloves. One by one, kisses are placed on his palm and the tips of his fingers. Eliza catches his eyes as she peers up at him with her best form of innocence, and then she envelops one of the gloved fingers in her mouth. She sucks the appendage, eyes locked on his. He bites his lip and grimaces, but not in pain, as she languidly pulls the finger from her mouth. Before she lets go, she gently bites the glove at the tip and pulls with the assistance of her hand till his is bare. It is such a lewd maneuver, and she performs it likewise to the other hand.

Edward's breath quickens as he watches this woman perform the sexually charged act in front of him. He smiles and laughs, desire burning in his eyes.
"Oh, my dear nurse, you know exactly how to get my attention."

He captures her lips in a passionate kiss, which she acts in turn. The two are touching one another deliberately, getting lost in the moment. There is nothing more than him and her here, on the apartment floor, as the rain pours outside and the light of the television flickers quietly in the background.

His hands tangle in her short hair, then he tilts her head back and kisses gently down her chin to her neck and collarbones. Eliza tenses in apprehension but she grips his shoulders to steady herself as he cradles her body, wanting more access to her supple skin. Edward kisses back up her neck, pausing every so often to nip at her pale skin with the perfect amount of pressure and suck the area to soothe it. These kisses are nothing like the ones from last time. They do not hurt. A warmth pools in her belly when he licks up to her ear and whispers hotly.

"Tell me how much you've needed this."

Edward's green eyes are dilated wide with a devilish desire to devour her entire being. His look is wild, and had he not promised not to hurt her again, she would probably be scared. Maybe she should be scared. He firmly pulls her head back so she can see his possession fully.

"I've needed you for so long, Eddie."

"Keep going."

Her eyes are dilated as well, wide with admiration, craving, and wanton lust.

"Edward Nygma, I've needed you since you first came to my home. I've thought about sleeping with you when I lie alone at night. I've thought about you almost every waking moment of almost every day for the past months.

"I need you to fuck me. . . I need to belong to you."

He smirks; his eyes relax as he pulls her by the hair into a rough, sensual kiss. Eliza cannot get enough of him. They've shared kisses and saucy comments over the time together, but nothing like this. This is different.

Eliza reaches between them as he gently bites her lower lip and sucks the petal slowly. Her deft fingers begin to fiddle with his belt before unbuckling it completely; she follows with his trouser zipper and button. This causes Edward to laugh a little and pull back.

"Eager, are we?"

"Shut up."

Her annoyance is short-lived as she dips a hand past the waistband of his underwear.

His jesting is short-lived and is replaced by pleasure as her hand begins stroking his already throbbing member. It makes him pause and close his eyes to focus fully on the feeling of her soft hand petting and stroking him. He hums deep in his throat, and his jaw slackens. Edward leans back to give her more room and places his hands behind him, propping himself up.

Eliza enjoys him as he enjoys her hand. She moves to straddle one of his thighs instead of both. It is a better angle, and she can see him better. A teasing grin graces her face. She runs her thumb across the head of his cock and feels the pre-cum that is quickly collecting.

Catching himself before he sinks into the pleasure pit, Edward opens his eyes halfway and gives her a relaxed look of admiration.

"My dear, you are truly skilled."

She giggles and smiles slyly, "I'm a woman of many talents."

"Yes, and I intend to explore each and every one of them now and later."

She removes her hand from his trousers, much to his chagrin, but she does it to help pull them down past his hips. Edward is unsure what she plans, but he is here for whatever she throws at him.

Eliza takes a moment to observe the man before her. He looks like a sexy mess: his blazer and shirt hang wide open, his tie is completely undone around his neck (the same neck that is now bruised and splotchy from their tousle and her kisses), his ruddy hair is askew, and his trousers are pulled down just enough. He is not extremely buff, but he is nicely toned from his years of crime and the physical activities involved. She almost salivates at the sight. She feels herself becoming wet and warm.

Eliza climbs back into his lap, straddling his waist. She maintains eye contact as she reaches between them to pull her soaked underwear to the side. Her other hand takes purchase on his shoulder as she lifts herself and sits back slowly, guiding him inside her. She is soaking wet as she leisurely drops down on his cock.

Edward's breath quickens, and he watches this goddess take him in. He sits up a little to wrap an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to him, pushing himself in fully to the hilt. Their hot breath mingles as they enjoy a pause to fully bask in what is happening. Eliza tips her head forward and delicately captures his lips in a loving kiss. They break and rest their foreheads together. A well-needed moment of sweetness cuts through the violent and volatile night.

He breaks the silence, "You are simply divine, my dear."

She grins," You have no idea."

Eliza is the first to move, rising on her knees and then dropping back down languidly – testing the waters. He purrs in response. Edward is not going to make her do all the work, but he does enjoy this for a few minutes as he observes her flushed face. While she works, he slips a hand under her white t-shirt and lifts it slowly, dragging it along her curves until he helps remove it fully from her body. His other hand slips back into her hair to grasp it again firmly and pulls back, causing her face to tilt up to him. The look of pleasure and lust on her face makes him grin.

Eliza whimpers, loving the hand in her hair and the hard cock inside her. She breathes deeply and steadily as she continues riding him. She's waited so long for this. A warm, pleasurable pressure builds in her lower belly, and her toes feel tingly.

"Eddie. . ."

"Yes, my good girl, say my name," he commands sensually.

Edward leans forward and kisses and sucks her neck once more, the angle of her head allowing for easy access. Apologizing the best he can, he kisses and tongues the scar from the bite. Til then, her flesh was unblemished. Now, the mark stands out in stark contrast to the rest of her beautiful skin - a marred reminder of his mistake. He will be making up for it for all eternity.

"Edward, it's so good. I love this. I love finally having you inside me."

"Mmmhmmm, keep talking. Tell me how you feel," he croons.

She gives a breathless laugh, "It's better than I imagined. I've laid in bed at night touching myself, wishing it was you, and this - this is so much better."

Edward whispers, his lips grazing her ear, "I'm happy to make this fantasy a reality for you."

To give her a break, he leans forward and cradles her against him, allowing her to lay back on the floor, switching positions. He relaxes himself atop her with one arm bearing his weight and the other hand behind her neck as he kisses her deeply, snaking his tongue into her mouth. He pulls back to look into her eyes when he starts moving just as low and steady as she did. Neither of them wanted to rush this.

His body is on fire, and he feels a pleasurable shiver when he hears her moan sweetly. She whimpers each time he removes himself and dips back in. Eliza's legs wrap around his waist, and her arms do the same around his neck. The angle of everything is perfect. She loves that he does not need to be coached on what to do and where to touch. It is as if Edward knows exactly how to make her legs shake and her body arch. It is so much.

Eliza's eyes are bright and loving, and she furrows her brow in pleasure.

"I'm really close, Eddie. Please don't stop," she asks sweetly.

Edward smirks, kisses her forehead, and continues his even strokes. There is no reason to do anything else other than what she asked. This angle is great for him as well. He feels himself getting closer to the edge. Again, he dips his head down to capture her lips in a breathless kiss, the two locked together and neither wishing to pull away.

Eliza is losing herself in hot desire, the emotional events of the night far away in her mind. She gives herself completely to him. The pleasurable coil is winding tighter and tighter, and she feels ready to burst. She moans as she feels her orgasm creeping up from her toes. Edward can see on her face that she is coming undone.

"That's it. Good girl, let yourself go."

She yelps as the orgasm crashes over her, causing her body to arch into him and tremble, "Fuck! Edward! Yes, k-keep going."

"Happily," he purrs in response to her command. He smiles as her face displays the delight she is feeling.

Edward feels his own orgasm approaching steadily, and it overtakes him as well. He groans as his cock throbs, twitches, and pulses inside her, spilling his cum deep. He hisses through his clenched teeth as he finishes, his body arching closer to her as well.

"Eliza, such a good girl. . . My sweet girl," he coos sweetly, timing his thrusts with his words.

She whimpers, feeling weak from the overwhelming pleasure that wracks her body. Her breath is deep and ragged as she tries to calm down.

The rain is still pouring outside, and that is all they can hear as they stare at one another, eyes locked and searching. Edward breaks the stalemate and kisses her forehead and nose, then tilts her head with a finger under her chin to kiss her sweetly. He breaks the kiss with a chuckle.

"I think we both needed this."

Eliza also laughs, her eyes shining brightly as she agrees, "Yes, I think so too."

Edward sighs and rests his head against her shoulder in contentment.

Out of his immediate sight, Eliza's demeanor twists. Her bright eyes narrow, and her sweet smile falls grim and flat as she gnashes her teeth. She raises a hand to run through his hair and stares suspiciously at the man in her arms.

Edward moved, shifting before raising back up, triggering Eliza's switch to flip once more. Her eyes brighten, and she returns his smile. She kisses his nose.

"Let's go get cleaned up, Mistah Riddlah."

"Uuuuhhhhhhghhhh, I told you never again."

Charmed by a smile,

Yet feeling the chill.

Wrapped in their world,

Against your will.

They speak of love,

But their hearts a void.

Leaving you trapped,

Feeling destroyed.