I Am The Riddler

“Four of a kind.”

Jonathan laid his cards down with quiet satisfaction, already reaching for his whiskey.

“Straight flush,” Edward replied a second later, grinning as he spread his own hand across the table.

Jonathan clicked his tongue under his breath.

“Oh, that is tragic,” Edward sighed dramatically. “I almost feel bad for you.”

“You don’t feel bad about anything.”

“Not true. I felt bad earlier when you lost your socks.”

Jonathan snorted softly and pulled his flannel shirt over his head instead, tossing it toward the back of the couch. The undershirt beneath clung to him slightly from the heat of the apartment and the liquor both of them had been steadily working through for the last hour.

It had started innocently enough.

A late evening in their apartment. Rain tapping lazily against the windows. Whiskey on the table between them while Edward shuffled a deck of cards more out of boredom than anything serious.

Then he had looked up over the rim of his glass with that particular glint in his eye.

“How about a game, Jon?”

“What kinda game?”

“Strip poker.”

Jonathan had laughed immediately. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“You willing to play?”

Jonathan had already been halfway through his third drink by then, feeling pleasantly warm and loose. Besides, Edward had looked entirely too excited while he waited for an answer.

So Jonathan had shrugged. “Why not.”

Now, several rounds later, Edward sat smug and pink-cheeked across from him, missing both his vest and tie, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled carelessly to his elbows. Jonathan had lost his socks first, then the flannel, leaving them both in varying states of dishevelment that only seemed to amuse Edward further.

Especially because Edward had become impossibly smug after his third win.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Edward teased as Jonathan gathered the cards for another round. “You’re very handsome when you lose.”

“I’m beginning to think this game was less about poker and more about you finding excuses to stare at me.”

Edward leaned his chin into his palm. “Can it not be both?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward anyway.

The next hand went to Jonathan.

Edward groaned immediately, dragging the sound out far longer than necessary as he reached for the front of his shirt.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes as Edward deliberately took his time with the buttons. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Edward’s smile turned sultry, then softer somehow as he glanced up at him. “Can you blame me?”

“You think you’re so irresistible.”

Edward looked at him through his lashes, expression blurred pleasantly by whiskey and amusement alike.

“But I am.”

Jonathan barked out a laugh before he could stop himself.

Edward’s shirt slid open inch by inch beneath his fingers, exposing pale skin little by little with intentional slowness that had absolutely nothing to do with the rules of the game and everything to do with Edward enjoying the attention.

And God, he was enjoying the attention.

By the time the shirt finally dropped from his shoulders, Edward was practically draped across the table, barefoot beneath the chair, chest pressed against the wood as he looked up at Jonathan with lazy, drunken satisfaction.

Jonathan took a long swallow of whiskey instead of responding.

The game continued somehow despite both of them growing steadily worse at it.

Cards slipped from Edward’s fingers more often now. Jonathan had started squinting at his own hand like the numbers might change if he didn't stare hard enough.

Then Edward suddenly straightened.

“Oh,” he breathed.

Jonathan eyed him suspiciously. “What.”

Edward laid his cards down with a flourish dramatic enough to nearly scatter half the deck.

“Royal flush.”

Jonathan stared at the cards in silence for a long moment before exhaling through his nose.

“Of course.”

Edward’s grin widened triumphantly.

Jonathan tossed his own hand down and reached for the hem of his undershirt, pulling it over his head without much fuss. The apartment suddenly felt warmer than before.

Across from him, Edward looked entirely too pleased by the sight.

By that point, both of them were down to little more than their pants, flushed from liquor and heat alike.

Jonathan gathered the cards again, shuffling poorly.

A movement across from him caught his attention.

Edward was already undoing his belt.

Jonathan blinked slowly. “The match hasn't even started yet.”

“I don’t care anymore,” Edward mumbled, kicking his pants away under the table after finally wrestling them off. “I’m warm.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Mm. Very.”

Edward stretched lazily in his chair afterward, now only in his boxers, entirely shameless beneath Jonathan’s stare.

Jonathan looked away first.

Naturally, Edward noticed.

The grin that spread across his face after that was downright dangerous.

Before Jonathan could even finish dealing the next hand, Edward suddenly climbed onto the table itself.

“Edward—”

Cards went everywhere.

Jonathan barely caught his whiskey before it tipped over the edge. He hissed as amber liquid sloshed dangerously against the rim of the glass.

Meanwhile, Edward crawled through the disaster he’d created completely unconcerned, knees knocking cards aside as he crossed the table toward him.

“Edward,” Jonathan snapped, sharper this time despite the liquor softening his tone.

Edward only smiled at that—slow and entirely unapologetic—before sliding directly into Jonathan’s lap like he belonged there.

Which, admittedly, he rather did.

Jonathan’s breath caught slightly as Edward tucked himself close, fingers curling loosely into the front of his pants while his mouth brushed against Jonathan’s jaw.

“You’ve completely ruined this game,” Jonathan murmured weakly.

“Mm. I know.”

Edward kissed just beneath his ear then, slow and warm and lingering enough to send a shiver down Jonathan’s spine.

The game lay forgotten around them.

Cards littered the floor. Whiskey sat low in their glasses. Somewhere outside rain still tapped steadily against the windows, distant and irrelevant compared to the heat currently curled in Jonathan’s lap.

Edward pressed closer, all long limbs and soft laughter against Jonathan’s throat.

“I don’t care about poker anymore,” he murmured.

“No?”

Edward shook his head once before kissing down the side of Jonathan’s neck.

“I think we should play something else.”

Jonathan’s hands settled instinctively against Edward’s waist.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

Edward pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes heavy-lidded and wicked.

“Take me to bed and I’ll show you."

Jonathan laughed quietly against his mouth before kissing him properly at last.

Edward melted into it immediately.

Somehow they just barely managed to stumble off the chair together without either of them hitting the floor. Jonathan got two whole steps toward the hallway before Edward stumbled against him laughing, all loose-limbed and heavy.

“Careful—”

Jonathan’s foot caught the edge of the rug.

The next thing either of them knew, they were collapsing sideways onto the couch together in a graceless heap.

Edward burst into helpless laughter first.

Jonathan groaned into the cushions beneath him. “We are disastrously drunk.”

“Mm,” Edward agreed easily.

He made absolutely no effort to get up.

Instead, he stretched out against Jonathan with a pleased little sigh, still grinning as he pressed close against him again.

“The couch is good enough,” he decided.

Jonathan huffed a tired laugh. “Is it?"

Edward answered by kissing him slow and deep until Jonathan wasn’t particularly skeptical about it.

By the time Edward shifted against him again, Jonathan’s hands had already settled at his hips.