Title: Reich mir die Hand
Fandom: DC/Batman, Vampire!AU
Ship: scriddler, Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Warnings: you know, it's a human having fun with a vampire
AO3
"Beautiful," the vampire whispers against his skin, "you're undoubtedly beautiful, Edward."
The aforementioned trembles, gulping heavily, the lips on his throat following his movements. The words do something to him, his legs weak, so much that he feels that he would fall to the ground if Jonathan's arms weren't around him. Holding him close, so close he can feel every muscle, every breath that Jonathan doesn't have to take. Edward doesn't really care that much, since he is breathing for both of them.
"You're appealing to my ego." Edward answers, his voice cracking a little. A tongue that should definitely be warmer brushes against his neck, softly, almost as if tasting him before he gets to eat him whole. Jonathan makes a sound, his vocal cords vibrating against his skin.
"Is it working?" he asks, amber eyes looking up to Edward's blue ones. His words make Edward want to answer that no, that he is not that cheap. That mind games don't work on him, because he has become a master of those.
He still doesn't answer, long hands caressing his sides, cradling him lovingly. Because Jonathan knows the answer, he knows it well, his devious smile a witness of Edward's weakness.
Edward is just prey, and Jonathan is nothing but the perfect hunter.
"Will it hurt?" he asks instead, and he realises, he is scared. He can almost feel Jonathan's glee, but he still tries to reassure Edward, his thumbs playing on Edward's waist.
"Yes," he admits, and Edward is actually relieved that he wouldn't lie to him. "But I'll give you so much, so good, that you'll forget about it soon enough."
Edward bites his lower lip, and he wonders if he is being a fool to trust him, to trust such a beast, a literal bloodsucking predator who seems adamant on making him go crazy.
Why is he telling him the truth anyways? Why does he even want his permission? He knows more than enough about vampires, has read about them since he was a child. There isn't any teasing involved, any soft caress, anything resembling what Jonathan is doing to him right now.
"Why… I…"
"You're beautiful," Jonathan answers, as if he were expecting the question. "You're smart, and you at least try to be understanding with me." Edward's eyes widen, suddenly speechless. "And also your smell… God, your smell."
"What about it?" Edward asks, breathless, fully aware that he is falling into a trap. He doesn't give a flying fuck about it.
"Your blood smells sweet. It's gonna drive me crazy," Jonathan admits, his voice a mere whisper. "I want to bury my face in your skin before ripping it apart. I want… I want to make you smell of me, so nobody else dares to touch what's mine."
Edward whines, and he doesn't know if he is scared, aroused, or both.
"Fuck. I want… I want that too."
It feels like he is doing a deal with the devil, but Edward is far too gone to care. There are small kisses on his neck, almost as if rewarding him beforehand.
"Can you relax for me, Edward?"
Edward would do anything for him.
"Are you scared?" Jonathan asks, even if it's not truly necessary. Only a fool wouldn't be scared, and Edward is no fool.
He lets out a soft "yes", almost inaudible, but Jonathan smiles nevertheless, his glee evident.
"Your pain will be exquisite."
Edward shudders, his neck exposed, opening himself up like a flower. Jonathan inhales his scent, tastes the sweat on his skin. He warns him, sharp teeth delicately caressing him for some seconds, until Edward nods and closes his eyes.
It's then, and only then, when Jonathan lets himself sink his canines into his neck.
It burns, a sharp pain making Edward whine. Jonathan keeps him still, so close Edward is sure he can feel each and every breath of his. Jonathan gulps with every heartbeat, rewarding him with a loving mouth caressing the wound.
"Don't move. It will only make it worse."
And Edward knows he is right, even if he is tempted to disobey. Not that he can, not like this, the power of the vampire overwhelming him.
He feels tired, he realises. A little bit drowsy. Jonathan kisses his wounded skin, gently sucking on it afterwards. A soft moan leaves his lips when Jonathan outright licks his skin, as if wanting to get more of his favorite meal, wanting the taste to linger for longer.
"God, your taste…"
Edward gulps, feeling Jonathan's sigh everywhere. His pants feel tight, and he would be embarrassed if he had any strength left.
"I feel tired," he admits, painfully aware of Jonathan's fingers circling his waist, of his lips still brushing his neck. The vampire seems to have helped the wound close, but he is still glued to him, as if in the middle of a trance. Of ecstasy.
"Do you want to rest? I can feed you. It's only fair."
Edward chuckles weakly, his arms around Jonathan's body. He guides one of Jonathan's long hands to his groin, letting him feel him. If it weren't impossible, he'd swear Jonathan's skin gets warmer, his fingers exploring him slowly.
Edward smiles, with a toothy grin, full of himself.
"I'm all yours, if you want to get a taste."
Jonathan raises his eyebrows, his mouth close to Edward’s. He reeks of blood, but it makes Edward’s chest flutter. It is his. He is his.
“Your body isn’t really in the situation to-”
“I’ve never been hornier and it’s your fucking fault.”
Jonathan laughs, and Edward kisses him, in an useless attempt to silence him. His mouth and chin are wet with Edward’s blood, and that somehow only makes him want to kiss him more.
“Christ, Jon. Aren’t you going to do something about it?”
He feels Jonathan’s canines teasing his lower lip, and Edward almost moans into the kiss.
“Such a pretty boy… Such a sharp, smart tongue.”
This time, Edward does moan. The vampire’s bedchambers seem to be warming up with every passing second, and Edward frowns slightly when long fingers palm his erection yet again.
"Would you lie down for me?"
Edward has studied vampires. He feared them, back in the day. He still fears them now, albeit in a different way. He knows how persuasive they can be, how their words can render humans to mere puppets, their willpower weak against silky voices and empty promises.
He is fairly sure he would have obeyed nevertheless, with or without persuasion.
The mattress welcomes him warmly, and Jonathan is on him before he can even breathe. The rusty taste of his mouth makes him giggle, and Jonathan just smiles, getting rid of Edward's clothes while he himself remains fully clothed.
"That's not fair," he manages to say, a dangerous mouth thirsty for him in so many senses it makes his head spin.
"I am not fair," Jonathan answers, like it's a known fact, like Edward is foolish for daring to think otherwise. It does indeed make him feel stupid, and he groans in displeasure.
His sour mood vanishes as soon as Jonathan's mouth is on his neck again, and he admires the sheer willpower not to bite him again when it's clear that he is far from satisfied.
"Would you kill me?" He asks when Jonathan gently sucks on his skin instead, stopping briefly but refusing to leave the safety of Edward's neck, where his face is hidden and his expression is unreadable.
"No." Jonathan answers, but doesn't elaborate.
"Why?"
He can feel a sigh against his skin.
"You ask too many questions."
Edward doesn't like the answer, and a part of him doesn't want to let it go. He reminds himself to revisit the topic later, though, for his own mental health and the urgent problem between his legs.
Careful lips circle the wound, a hand on Edward's abdomen, so close and yet so far. He can surely feel every twist and twitch, and Edward thinks he may probably be enjoying it.
Jonathan leaves no place untouched. From sucking on his neck and shoulder, to a hand pinning him down. A tongue tasting his sternum, playful fingers softly pinching a nipple just to hear him gasp, content enough when Edward actually does. His tongue circles the other one, and Edward moans, because this is all unnecessary but Jonathan seems to enjoy it nevertheless.
"Are you trying to torture me? Because I could just come like this…"
Jonathan lets out a dry laugh, and Edward's ears are suddenly even hotter.
"Then why don't you?"
Edward gulps, breathing laboriously, a grinning mouth kissing down his stomach as if to prove a point. Jonathan inhales when he reaches his abdomen, his voice sweet as honey when he talks, so silky that the command doesn’t even sound like one when he pronounces it, Edward so eager to please him that he obeys in a second.
“Look at me… that’s it, good boy.”
Edward wants to be a good boy for him, wants to be told how good he is, how beautiful, how perfect. He wants to hear as much as he wants to be touched by him, by this immortal being that has somehow decided that he is worthy of his attention. That he is not food, at least not only.
“Bite me,” Edward asks, his voice trembling. “Please.”
Jonathan shudders, his lips on Edward’s inner thigh. He feels his canines caressing the skin, and Edward thinks that he is being too nice to him. Nicer than Edward deserves. He does bite him, though, the blood warm as Jonathan’s tongue spreads it with calculated care. Edward moans, half in pain, half in pleasurable intimacy, having the knowledge of how bonded they are, and that a small, frail man like him holds a power like that over powerful Jonathan.
Silky sheets get stained with Edward’s blood, and he giggles groggily, the sound becoming a soft gasp when long fingers encircle his erection, a bloodied tongue hungrily licking just under it.
“Fuck. That’s-”
It’s good, better than he had imagined. Cold fingers masturbate him slowly, exposing each and every weakness of him, because Edward just spreads his legs for him, wanting and waiting, unable to stop looking. A mouth engulfs him and he cries out, Jonathan’s smart brain, a brightness able to match his own, working hard and fast about what he should do to him next.
“Turn around,” he mutters, raspy and sharp like a knife, like the predator he is, and Edward nods vigorously.
“I won’t be able to see you…”
“You’ll feel me.”
That seems to be good enough for Edward, who does as he is told, letting Jonathan position him, his head resting on the pillow as Jonathan spreads his legs, his knees safely against the mattress.
“Okay, this is hot too.”
Jonathan lets out a snort, because he knows. Edward wonders about the view he is giving him, about if he wants him as much as Edward does.
“Can you be strong for me, Edward?”
Edward blinks, and he wants to look at him, but he doesn’t.
“Strong?” he asks, no matter how hard he wants to say that yes, he can and will be anything for him.
“I’m going to make your knees weak,” Jonathan answers, matter-of-factly. “I’m going to make you bleed and lick you clean.”
“Oh, fuck…”
“Is that okay?”
Edward lets out a whine, feeling unclad in front of him. Exposed, all of him for Jonathan to take and taste.
“God, yes…”
Jonathan’s thumbs caress his thighs, one of them gently brushing against the freshly closed wound.
“But since you’re kneeling… does that mean you’re ready for worship, I wonder…”
Edward cannot breathe, his mind foggy with desire. He cannot move, not if the vampire doesn’t allow him to, even if he knows Jonathan would if he asked. He still doesn’t, because he wants this. To be pampered, to be worshiped. To be hurt and healed, curious lips sucking on his butt before sharp teeth warn him about what’s to come.
He has never wanted anything more.
The canines break the skin and Edward chokes out a breath, his legs trembling. He feels warm blood running down his thigh, to the sheets. A tongue gently closes the wound, but Jonathan fingernails on his other buttcheek tells him he is still not done.
He sucks on the sensitive skin, and Edward forgets to breathe for some seconds, his skin tingling at the motions that will surely leave a mark even before Jonathan bites him.
Edward awaits him eagerly, long fingers gently rubbing his back, testing his patience, helping him stay grounded.
"You're sweet." Edward managed to say, and he can almost see Jonathan's bashful smile, who has no biting remark towards him.
"You're strong," is the only thing Jonathan manages to say against his skin, his teeth dangerously close. "You're so strong…"
It's always painful, but pain is not what makes Edward sob when Jonathan bites him, blood flowing, their small ritual complete. His legs are shaking, but Jonathan's hands reassure him, gently holding him in place. He is careful not to touch the wounds, knowing that they surely still hurt.
"I'm not gonna be able to sit tomorrow, am I?"
Jonathan snorts against his skin, and Edward is nervous, sensing that something's coming.
"And you deserve a reward. For the inconvenience."
Jonathan's strong, slender fingers spread him, and Edward makes a sound seconds before tongue testingly caresses his ass, deep in focus, drinking from every reaction.
“Relax…” he murmurs, his voice inviting him, in fact, to relax. “Just enjoy it. I’m gonna make you come.”
Edward whines when the avid tongue goes back to his ass, sensitive and exhausted, defenseless before Jonathan’s relentless ministrations. He hears him make a sound of contentment, delighted at Edward’s trembling moan, a devious smile against his skin when one of Jonathan’s hands moves, reaching around and holding his erection, enjoying every single heartbeat that pulses through it.
And he knows, he knows Jonathan told him to relax, but he still wants to look. He still wants to see his expression, for Jonathan to see his. The charm on Jonathan’s voice may be strong, but his willpower is stronger. How much he wants to see, to understand. To be adored.
There is surprise in Jonathan’s eyes when he moves, arching his back slightly, turning his neck so at least he can see a little, so Jonathan can see his wet eyes, burning in passion and pleasure. He wants it all. Edward Nygma has only ever been good at taking.
“You’re hot.” he manages to say. Jonathan stops for a second, but it seems Edward is not the only one that’s a little weak to compliments. He knows him, and he knows how he feels. Both proud and ashamed because of his nature, a monster that never sees the sunlight. But oh, Edward sees him. And he loves everything he has to offer, everything he is.
Even if what he feels is, in fact, against all nature and common sense.
“You’re close.” Jonathan states, unable to take a compliment as usual. Edward lets out a choked out chuckle, but doesn’t answer.
Of course he is, with that insistent tongue tasting him, long fingers gently pleasuring him. Of course he is, close to heaven and the stars. He holds the sheets, trying to find some relief to the slow torture. And he does, but not without the big peak.
He is used to raw and quick, to loud orgasms that make his ears ring. Not to this, to low moans that only tell how exhausted he is, how much his body needed it, so relieved, because Jonathan doesn’t rush things, because he doesn’t need to. Death isn’t waiting for him in any corner, so he can just give him time, slow kisses on Edward’s thighs as he comes messily, bed stained with cum and blood, like an ancient ritual where he is both the offering and the perpetrator.
“Fuck.” he groans eloquently, his breath thin, so tired he doesn’t have the strength to care about how sticky his body feels. He does care when Jonathan licks his thumb, deep in focus, as if Edward’s pleasure were even tastier than his blood.
The fact that he finds that oddly romantic is only proof of how twisted his mind becomes around the vampire. Not that he is complaining.
“Fuck indeed.”
Edward lets himself be pampered, small kisses on his back and his neck. He doesn’t complain when Jonathan turns him around, as if to inspect his whole body, to make sure everything’s alright. He kisses Edward’s chin, his face, his lips, and Edward wonders how can this be love, and how can it be anything else.
“I want to touch you…” he whines, and Jonathan lets out a snort, his fingers gently caressing Edward’s hair.
“Tomorrow, after you have rested and eaten some breakfast.”
Edward doesn’t need a charm to obey.
