Work Text:
He catches your eyes quickly. Oddly enough by doing nothing. It's peculiar behavior in a place like The Iceberg Lounge. The men here have over exaggerated egos that flow out of them through their words like poisonous honey.
They take what they want. And what do they want? Money. Power. A quick fuck. All of the above. "I'll take care of you, sweetheart. You just can't tell anybody." You're used to their words. You can brush it off as you pour them another drink. They always talk too much.
But in contrast, he says nothing at all. He sits hunched at the bar, the beam of party lights glimmering off his glasses. He doesn't have the style, the stature, or the stare of the other guys. Instead it feels like he's avoiding eye contact with you.
"Is there something I can get you?"
He looks stunned. "Uh- I'm okay. Thanks." You raise your brow. "You come to a club and actively decide not to drink?" Maybe it was mean of you to say that. He could be 10 years sober for all you know. But to sit at the bar in a place like this and not drink was strange.
"I like the... atmosphere."
You glance over him once more. "Mhm. Are you meeting somebody?" He replies quickly and short, "No."
"I just come to observe."
So maybe he wasn't what you thought. Maybe he was just another pervert here to eye the girls as they strolled through in their glittery getups and high heels. It's what most of the men came for, who were you to assume he'd be any different.
"If you're looking for a girl you're gonna have to wander a little further. I don't do dances, I just serve the drinks."
He furrows his brows. "I don't want a dance."
"Okay."
He's not looking at you, but you feel rude ending it there. "Is there a specific something you're...observing?" His eyes meet your again. "The people." You nod. "Ah. So you're a people watcher, got it."
You're smiling, but he doesn't seem to get the humor in your tone. "Sorry. I'm just joking around." He nods. "You know, you're like the only guy here who hasn't asked to fuck me for money, so I guess I'm just a little refreshed."
"They'll regret saying things like that one day."
"I sure hope so."
For once, he smiles at you.
━━━━
"It's you again."
You're almost shocked to see him again. You get a few weirdos around the place but nothing like him. You'd expected it to be a one time visit once he realized this place wasn't for people like him. But there he was. In that same blue windbreaker. He glanced up at your words.
"Yes."
You smile. You can't help it. He's much more tolerable than the other men that hang around the club. It feels like your input into your conversations matters and isn't shrouded in obnoxious glances at your tits.
"So, can I get you a drink this time?"
He hesitates for a moment, thinking.
"Yeah. A White Russian."
He hands you his I.D. before you can ask. Patrick Parker. You tuck that information away for future conversation.
"Got it."
And he's quick to sip away the drink soon after you give it to him. He's different tonight than when you first met him. Elevated. Possibly a bit manic. You can't break the silence before he does.
"Don't you think it's strange? The people that come in here."
You finish the drink you are preparing and glance up at him. He's looking right at you.
"You mean the rich old men?"
"I mean the mayor, the DA, half the police department."
You're not sure why he would be asking you this. Sure, you had seen them around, but was it not common knowledge that politicians and city officials don't give a shit about morals? What exactly would you be doing about it?
"I mean, sure, I've seen them around. Our lovely officials have never really had the best morals." He frowns at your words. "It's not just bad morals. It's blood on their hands." He continues,
"Wouldn't it be something if that could change?"
His gaze is making you hot. Like his stare is a heat lamp pointed right on you. "Yeah. I guess that'd be something." He smiles. It's wide a wild and completely contrasts his demeanor from the previous night. But it's cute, you think, and you can't help but give him a small smile back.
A table is waving for another bottle in the distance. You excuse yourself, assuring him and the rest of the men at the bar that you'd be back swiftly.
When you return to the bar, he's gone.
━━━━
The next time you see him, you're finishing up a shift. He catches your arm as you exit the bar. "Hey." He smiles. "Are you leaving?"
"Yeah. I'm off."
He seems to deflate a little. "Oh." It's pathetic. You think. But it also makes your heart pull. Something about his soft expression and touch of his hand makes you want to stay with him here all night.
"I can stay for a little." You plant yourself into the stool next to his.
And it's nice. He's very clearly intelligent. But also inquisitive. He's asked you every question you can think about the club and your life. And you had answered them honestly, because his presence wasn't prying and uncomfortable like others have been in the past.
"What do you do, Patrick."
He sips the drink in front of him, another White Russian. "I'm a forensic accountant." You hum in response, not entirely shocked. You can see him filling that role. "It's nothing exciting."
"I mean I'm sure it's exciting when someone actually commits fraud." You laugh. He follows suit. The way his eye wrinkle when he smiles makes your heart beat a little faster.
He's a gentle person. His voice as soft as his features. And once again he's so different than he was the previous night. He's calm. Happy. And by the time the two of you have downed a couple drinks, you're laughing and leaning your head on his shoulder.
"Oh man, it's been a while since I've actually had fun here." You're still slightly giggling when you meet his eyes. "Thank you for this." You hardly think when you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. It stuns him, but your nerves aren't nearly as shot as they would be if you were completely sober. You hardly notice the warmth of his hand smoothing over your hip, until he scoops you toward him by the small of your back and presses his lips to yours.
His lips are soft like the rest of his features and he's gentle. You keep your eyes closed and your forehead against his for a moment after the kiss ends. You should go home, stop while you're ahead, before you make things awkward. But his hand is still warm against your back and he has treated you so nicely the entire night. You can't help yourself when you dive in once again, this time more assertive. He gasps as you tentatively lick into his mouth. He tastes like alcohol and coffee.
His eyes are half lidded when you pull away. You want to look at him forever, but instead you choose to escape the eyes of the creeps outside the club and grab his hand leading him back in. He follows obediently, not dragging his feet. His eyes are wide as you shut the bathroom door and click the lock.
The club bathroom is just as dim as the rest of the club, the only source of light is a black light, but he still looks heavenly when you push his back against the door of the closed stall. His small gasps with each moment sound so good in the echo of the room. Your lips are on his neck in seconds. His hands float above your hips, hesitating. "You can touch me. It's okay."
He lays a hand on each hip, pulling your hips closer to his. You can feel the way his cock is straining against his dress pants. You smile against his neck. "Does that feel good?"
"Y-Yes." He's whispering.
You move your mouth to meet his, tongue meeting his once again. Strangled noises are escaping his throat through the kisses. You almost feel bad. He had been so nice to you, such a gentleman, all night long, and you were paying him in kisses in a dirty bathroom stall.
You trail a hand down his chest, stomach, until you reach the bulge in his pants. The pressure of your palm against his cock makes him whimper. It's delicious. "I like the noises you make for me." His eyes are wide. "I thought you didn't do these things?"
You smile. "I don't. Not for money."
He huffs out a laugh. "I-I'm special?" You squeeze the hardness under your hand. "Yeah, honey. You're special."
And it's over just as quick as it had started. His choked off moan and the way he pushes your hand away, overstimulated, is all you need to know that he's come in his pants. His face is flushed and his hair is a mess. You leave a kiss on his lips before reaching to unlock the door. "What about you? Should I-" You shake your head and smile. "You can walk me to my cab."
So he does just that. Before he turns to leave you grab his hand. He faces you, still flushed and tussled. You kiss his cheek before getting into the waiting car.
"Be safe getting home."
A couple of drinks were never good for you.
━━━━
He doesn't come back after that. Which is fine. You tell yourself. You were both drunk the night you had kissed him. You doubt he even felt anything about you. But deep down you're disappointed.
Your shift had been long, boring, and unusually dead. But you had powered through it. Your feet ached, and it felt good to walk freely and let the cool air of Gotham hit your face.
It's relaxing for only a moment. Until you see him. He's in the shadows, but his glasses and features are unmistakable. You can't help but yell out to him. "Patrick!"
He doesn't respond. Before thinking with a rational mind, you're striding towards him. It's then that you've caught his attention, he looks stunned like an animal caught under bright headlights.
He's different. Same glasses and hair, but he's ditched his work shirt and windbreaker for a simple green hoodie and leather gloves. It is cold. You've become more aware as the wind hit your bare legs.
"Hey! You haven't been around."
He nods shyly. "I've been busy. Sorry." You shake your head. "No, I mean- it's okay. We all get busy sometimes. I just wanted to check on you." You hesitate before finishing. "I missed you."
You can hear the way his breath catches in his throat. He stands with his hands flat to this sides. Holding back but- "I missed you too." You smile.
"I don't think I'm gonna be hanging around here anymore."
You cock your head to side. "Did I drive you away? Did the drinks suck that bad?" You laugh, hoping to break his tense posture. But he doesn't laugh with you. Instead he keeps a straight face as his eyes bore into you. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I shouldn't have let things go that far. We can forget-" He cuts you off.
"I think you might become a distraction."
You're stunned and the words light a fire inside your stomach. So he had been thinking about you. Thinking about that night. You only hoped you were a good distraction.
"That's too bad. I wanted to see you again. "
His eyes fall over your figure. He's quiet, that's what you like most about him. He doesn't say anything unless it's absolutely necessary. He'd rather calculate what his next move will be in his head than let nonsensical banter fall from his lips. He only speaks when it's necessary. But he had spoken to you all those nights before. He had asked to.
And you're suddenly remembering the way he looked under the lights at the club. He'd been so out of place, but his soft features had looked perfect to you. You're remembering his face under the dim bathroom light, and the faces he had made...the sounds he had made, and as much as you want to continue to stare at him under the dim streetlight, you can't stop yourself from grabbing him by his hand and pulling him into the secluded alleyway.
You're both shrouded in darkness, but you can still see the glint of his glasses and the glimmer of his stare. "Am I a good distraction?" It comes out as a whisper, and you never let your eyes leave his. You practically stop breathing until his answer comes. He nods.
You're holding him by the crease of his elbows. There's something dangerous within his eyes. It makes you feel like prey in the arms of a predator, but you won't show him fear. You crave to break him down. You pull him closer by the collar of the soft hoodie. He's close enough that you're sure he can feel your hot breath hitting the skin of his neck.
"Do you wanna fuck me?"
You almost stun yourself with your words. It was something you'd heard so often from the other girls in the club. They knew it could make them good cash, but you had never been a part of that lifestyle. You were just the bartender.
Still, you relish in the sound of his inhale and the goosebumps that blossom on the skin that's visible to you. You're treading a thin line. You're not thinking with your brain, and are only acting on the heat in your core. Might as well, you think. You press an open mouthed kiss onto the soft skin under his jaw. He sighs a soft "Yes." And you can't help but grin into the crook of his neck.
You don't say a word as you unbuckle the belt and unzip the zipper of his dress pants. You pause to pull your panties down under your skirt to your knees. "Then fuck me, baby."
It's filthy the way he manhandles you until your cheek is pressed against the brick wall of the dark alley. He'd seemed like such a gentle man in all of your interactions, but he had forced your body around so easily it makes your stomach flutter. You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding at your entrance. He's quick to shove two fingers into your mouth, muffling your small cries as he thrusts into you.
"Have to be quiet."
You can't help but moan against his fingers. A passerby could see you in this moment and you wouldn't bat an eye. You were fucking a man you had only met a week ago in an alley. And his cock is hitting spots inside you that make you forget every thought in your head. He's so different. So forceful. Like he just wants to take and take and take from you.
He throws his head back. "Fuck- You're tight." His body is forcing yours forward into the wall in front of you with each sharp thrust. It's only in this moment that you realize how tall he is. He'd minimized himself within the walls of the club, but now you could see the real him.
"Do you let the other men fuck you like this?"
His arms are pulling your upper body off the brick wall until your back is pressed against his chest, your head resting against the dip of his shoulder.
"No- fuck- No. You know that. They're disgusting."
You can't help but smile up at him when he narrows his eyes down at you.
"What if I'm disgusting too?"
He holds your face up to his with a grip on your chin. You give in. "I don't care." He smiles at this and dips his head to connect your lips. You can taste the slight tinge of a past cigarette and coffee. He keeps your face cradled close to his even after the kiss breaks. You find his name falling from your mouth in breathy whispers, "Patri-"
"Edward. Call me Edward."
Edward? Had he given you a fake I.D.? Or perhaps it was his middle name? You're too blissed out to care as a sharp thrust has both you and him sighing out moans. You push away the thoughts of the red flags.
He pushes your head to face something illuminating in the sky above the club's alley. A symbol resembling a bat surrounded by beaming light.
"Things are gonna change soon. None of those pigs in that club will see it coming. But it's time to clean house."
You shutter at his words. He's close. You can tell by the way his thrusts are sloppier and his legs shake into them. His gloved hand has reached between your legs to rub desperate circles around your clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching. "Edward. I want you to come."
His features are falling more and more submissive as his thrust grow erratic. He's chasing his peak desperately, whining out moans, "Yes! Please- please let me come."
You can help but crack a smile as you feel yourself approaching your own end. "Come with me, baby. You can do that for me."
And he does. You're both soaring over the edge, and his whimpers and broken moans are so loud in your ear. His hot breath is hitting your neck and you can feel his cum dripping down your leg. It's the perfect form of overstimulation.
He straightens his body as he tucks himself back into his pants. You pull your soiled panties back up to your hips and face him. He's still breathing in heavy heaves. He had lied to you about his name. He had fucked you like a crazed man in an alley and preached to you about change. Always change. You think back to his words the first couple of nights you met him. The red flags were certainly there, but for some reason you find yourself not caring at all.
"Come home with me tonight. Stay with me. Since you're done coming around and all."
"Okay."
"Then you can tell me why you lied to me about your name, and the real reason you haven't been around."
He hesitates before giving in.
"Okay."