I Won't Say It

As he drinks of her lips he remembers her staring down at his. After she taunted him. Besting him at his own game.

"If it isn't there, then say the words."

Her mesh-covered hand trails down his neck . . .

"I won't say it."

He feels the metallic embellishments of the mesh as they run roughly over his skin. She stops at his collar and then brings it back up to his head, pulling him down into her kiss insistently, smearing her dark red lipstick all over him. Marking him. Is she trying to awaken that love that isn't there?

"I love –"

He had choked on the word 'you.' He couldn't love her. He had tried to kill her, even himself to prevent this atrocity. The Riddler and Lee Thompkins, The Doc. The good doc. Yet . . .

"You're playing a dangerous game, Lee." He had warned her, knife to her neck.

"I know."

But she still wanted him.

And it is unbelievably delicious. He easily lets the knife fall to the ground in and takes her into his embrace, his arms moving over the expanse of her back. He no longer wants to kill her. Not a single part of him does.

". . .You love me. You've loved me all along."

No, that's Ed. It's Ed. Or is it him? Right now, HE'S the one biting into her neck as she rips at his clothes, exposing his chest, running her mesh-covered palm over it. He finds it unbearable as her uncovered fingers naturally follow in its wake and toy with him.

He growls and pulls her to the floor on top of him, too close to the neon question mark. Too close. But he barely notices the danger it poses as she peels off her shirt by the glow of its odd light, straddling him. Green looks good on her. He smiles devilishly and reaches up to her. . .

. . . while she reaches down and with a deft twist of her fingers makes his belt buckle fall apart with a clink, its question mark motif falling by the wayside. Is there even a question about where this is heading now?

He stays her hand.

"I want to take my time," he says softly.

She leans down to kiss him, her black hair caressing his cheeks.

"I want to savor you," he says in a husky voice as she pulls away.

He rolls her, pinning her underneath him. Too close to the question mark. Still too close. He begins a slow trail of kisses down her neck, unclasping her bra, freeing her from her confines. He teases her lovely nipples with his finger tips before his lips move further down to caress her stomach.

She takes in a deep breath as he draws near, removing her belt and tugging insistently on her tight-fitting pants. They must come off, so must her shoes. As he removes them, he kisses the inner arch of her foot tenderly, holding her foot in both of his hands for just a moment longer than is necessary. She sighs with pleasure at his touch. He inspects the shoe in his hand. She'll be shorter now, without the four-inch advantage the heels of her shoes provide. Good.

Time for a riddle. Time to expose HIS advantage.

"Once aroused from its shackles of slumber

it seeks nothing more than to be released.

. . . and then collapses back into its confines of sleep.

What is it?"

She sits up and smiles wryly as she removes his belt all the way – the task she had left unfinished – and reaches for the button at the top of his pants, slipping it loose. And then she reaches inside for her prize . . .