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Possession

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: E

Word Count: 6.700

Read on AO3

“It’s an experiment of some sort”, Charles explains, putting one of his hands on Edwin’s thigh and aching for it. “You know when I kiss you and you don’t feel feel it, but you still feel it? Somewhere in your head, or soul, whatever. I wanna do that. I wanna touch you and see if I can make you feel that” or: How to overcome the limitations of your non corporeal form by just really, really wanting to.

„I wanna try something“, Charles says as he perches onto the sofa next to Edwin, excitement thrumming through his body in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The thing is, he might be onto something here, something huge.

Edwin doesn’t sigh when he puts down his book, but it seems to be a close thing; for once, it doesn’t matter, because Charles needs his attention and he needs it now. It’s not a new idea, more one he has been carrying with him for a few weeks now, but just a few minutes ago, when he looked over at Edwin, with his long legs and the graceful curve of his neck, his pink lips parted just so as he concentrated on his research, he suddenly felt a wave of desire wash over him. Desire to touch, desire to feel. And suddenly it had to be now.

“And what would that be, darling?”, Edwin asks, and although it’s nothing new at all, the term of endearment still makes Charles smile. It most likely will in a year from now, in a decade. In a century. “It’s an experiment of some sort”, Charles explains, putting one of his hands on Edwin’s thigh and aching for it. “You know when I kiss you and you don’t feel feel it, but you still feel it? Somewhere in your head, or soul, whatever.”

Edwin nods, a smile ghosting across his lips as he puts his hand over Charles’, holding onto it.

“I wanna do that. I wanna touch you and see if I can make you feel that”, Charles explains and squeezes Edwin’s hand, something he knows Edwin can sense somehow, because he does, too. “I wanna touch you everywhere, all the time, so bad. Please let me?”

There is no bed they can go to, but the sofa can be extended into one, because Crystal sometimes stays over if the investigations take too long. So, Charles reassembles the cushions, finds a blanket to spread across it, because even if Edwin mentions how their physical comfort won’t be impacted by these things, Charles will do this right. Edwin deserves one of those canopied beds fit for a prince, rose petals and champagne they cannot drink, but if they have to make due with what is available at the agency, then he will at least make the most of that.

“Lay down?”, he asks as soon as he is satisfied, and while Edwin looks like he isn’t quite sure what to do with his limbs, he settles down on the makeshift bed, looking up at Charles. On a whim, Charles kisses him softly, and he can feel it somehow, even if it is hard to explain, feels even more when Edwin sighs against his lips, reaches up to trail his fingers along the line of Charles’ jaw.

“So, what I am thinking”, Charles starts to explain, while he joins Edwin on the sofa, hovering above him, “is that I’m gonna touch you and I’m gonna tell you what I am doing, because your brain should remember how touch feels, even if it cannot experience it right now. And I… I think I’m also going to tell you what I think it would feel like, for me, just in case it helps.”

It will be awkward, especially at first, Charles is very aware of it, but it will be so worth it if it ends up working. And if not, at least they will have given it a good shot. Again, he leans down and kisses Edwin, who has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time, before asking, “Is that alright?”

He expects a hint of hesitation, because Edwin is a lot of things but definitely not adventurous, but there is none; Edwin nods immediately, then laughs at his own eagerness. “I’m sorry”, he says, “It’s just that I haven’t much experience with any of this.” “I know. Neither have I.”

And saying it like that feels kind of incredible, actually, the thought of being Edwin’ first. Of Edwin being his. Of Edwin being his only, Charles corrects himself, because this, they, are forever.

“Okay, so”, he begins again, because otherwise he’ll get lost in the green of Edwin’s eyes and the curve of his smile and the beauty of just being near him, and they’ll end up snogging for half the afternoon. Which, to be fair, is not a bad way to spend a day, but not today. “I’ll be getting your kit off for a start. And then we’ll go from there, alright?” “Yes. I trust you.”

And he does, Charles knows that better than he knows himself.

It’s difficult to pull away from Edwin, but he does it anyway, sitting back on his legs so he can get at the buttons of Edwin’ shirt. He has undone them once before, right at the beginning when they met, because Edwin had been stabbed by an iron knife and while Edwin had insisted that he was fine, Charles had needed to see the wound, to tend to it. Back then, the moment when he had pulled back the singed white linen, he had decided that he would protect Edwin from whatever came their way, even if the skin he had uncovered had been pale and flawless.

No lasting wounds, Edwin had explained patiently, as if that cancelled out the pain of it, and had been utterly confused when Charles pulled him into a hug and promised him that he would never let it happen again anyway. He had kept his word.

Now, when Charles pushes Edwin’s shirts off his shoulders, his skin is just as flawless as it was that day, and suddenly, there is no more space left for reminiscing, because Charles wants to touch him so much it feels not like desire, but a physical need.

“I’m going to touch you now”, he tells Edwin, looking up at his pretty, pretty face for a moment, and finding Edwin staring back at him already, eyes wide and alert. “I’m going to kiss your neck, because I’ve been wanting to do that for ages, and if you feel anything, let me know.”

And that’s it, that’s all the time Charles can spare before leaning down and pressing his mouth against the sharp line of Edwin’s jaw, parting his lips to lick across the skin there. Edwin makes a sound above him, startled, but in a good way, then there is a long-fingered hand sliding through his hair, holding onto him, and Charles can feel it, at least the ghost of it.

Slowly, Charles makes his way down Edwin’s throat, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he can find, laving his tongue across it, and God, how he wishes he could taste Edwin there, the salt of his skin, feel the warmth of it. His hand slides over Edwin’s chest, trailing across his ribs, and even like this, it’s so good to just touch him, be this close.

“Charles”, Edwin breathes out above him, and it’s the hardest thing he has ever done, but Charles tears himself away from where he is currently smearing kisses against Edwin’s collarbone so he can look at him instead. “What?”, he asks, smiling when Edwin looks up at him, lips bitten red and pupils blown so wide they seem to swallow all the green of his eyes. It’s a good look on him, one that sets something within Charles’ soul on fire.

“Nothing”, Edwin replies, and he sounds wrecked, beautifully so. It makes Charles shiver. “Just. Don’t stop, please?”

He’s so beautiful like this, neck bared and chest heaving with breaths he isn’t taking, and Charles loves him so much it feels like an avalanche, a force of nature.

“You can feel it? When I kiss you like this?”, he asks, and Edwin nods, eyebrows drawing together. “Kind of. It’s like when we usually kiss, just more. And then there’s a tingling wherever you touch me, like nothing I have ever felt before.”

“I knew it would work”, Charles replies and grins, then strokes his hand down Edwin’s side just to watch his reaction. And react he does, shivering as his eyes follow the trail of Charles’s fingers, his lips still parted around a sound he doesn’t make.

“It feels good for me too”, he adds, because Edwin still seems dazed, just in case there was ever any doubt. “Like I’m hot all over, like all I ever want to do for the rest of time is to touch you. I can’t feel it, but I imagined that your skin would be warm and soft. And that I could taste it. I want to taste you so bad.”

Maybe it’s more of a confession than anything else, but it doesn’t seem like Edwin minds, because his eyes snap back up to Charles’ face, and finally, that sound spills from his lips. A broken, fragile thing, something between a moan and a gasp, and it’s like a bolt of pure, unfiltered lust strikes Charles, leaving him light-headed. He leans down and kisses Edwin without thinking, licking the last remnants of the sound from his mouth, then into it, until it feels like he is drowning.

“You like that? Me talking about how much I want to touch you?”, he asks when he eventually pulls back, their lips still brushing, and Edwin nods almost frantically. It’s so sweet, it’s so him, that Charles can’t help but smile and press a shorter, softer kiss to his lips. “Me too”, he confesses, “I want you to always know how much I love you. It took me a while, I know, but God, Edwin, my heaven would be just this. Laying here with you, kissing you, making you moan like that. Having you close.”

Again, Edwin makes a sound and it sounds even more wrecked than the last one, and Charles decides in that moment, that it won’t be enough until he has made Edwin fall apart completely. So, he drags his lips down Edwin’s throat again, kissing and re-kissing the skin there.

“If I could, I would leave a hundred marks on you”, Charles mutters between kisses. “Make sure that everyone knows you’re mine with only one glance. No more pretty crow boys pining after you, or weird immortal cat people not wanting to let you go.” He latches onto the skin just below Edwin’s collarbone and gives it a hard suck, imagining the skin reddening, a bruise blooming that would show the world that Edwin had made his choice.

“Charles!” The words startle a laugh from Edwin, the action turn it into a shaky moan, and once again, Charles has to look up at him, a smile playing on his lips. “No need to be possessive. You know I’m yours.” “I do. I just want everyone else to know it, too.”

Even though his eyes are still dark, Edwin is smiling, bright and happy under the veil of lust. “I love you the most”, he says, and it makes something familiar and warm and beautiful bloom in Charles’ chest. “You too”, he answers. “Always. But now, let me get back to making you moan my name.”

And he does, turning Edwin’ laughter to something much more breathless when he seals his lips around one of Edwin’s nipples and sucks, circling it with his tongue as if to soothe the sting a moment later. He can feel Edwin quaking under him, and there, right on the tip of his tongue, is a hint of remembered salt, the imagined sensation of soft flesh.

“Tell me what you feel”, Charles whispers against Edwin’s chest, his hands sliding down his sides, tickling along his ribs. “Tell me what you imagine it would be like.”

“It’s- it’s like I can feel it in my head”, Edwin gasps out, arching up when Charles presses a flurry of kisses to his sternum, before continuing on to Edwin’s other nipple. “The more you say, the more I see you touch me, the stronger it gets. And it’s more than just that, I can- I can sense your tongue on me. Your lips. Your hands. I can tell them apart.”

Almost as a reward, Charles leaves a kiss over Edwin’s unbeating heart, laving his tongue across the skin there, and he gets a sigh in response, a beautifully shaky breath.

“It’s like I can almost feel you”, Edwin says, and it’s all Charles wanted to hear. “The heat of your mouth and the slickness of your tongue. Even if there is no reason for it, I want you leave your marks on me. I want to see them tomorrow. I want to leave my own on you.”

This time, it is Charles who shivers, because oh, he craves that more than he could have imagined.

Instead of replying, he slides down Edwin’s body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses on Edwin’s stomach until he can drag his teeth across his hipbones, making Edwin moan low in his throat. Charles can sense the firmness there, hidden behind a layer of flesh and even this smallest sensation is painfully good, fills him with a heat that is almost unbearable and that he still craves more of.

His tongue flicks out and there it is again, a hint of salt.

“Can I…”, he starts, and nuzzles his cheek against the dip between Edwin’s hip and thigh, before looking up at him. The breath leaves Edwin with a hiss, his eyes slipping shut for a second or two. “Good God, Charles”, he replies, his voice deep and raspy. “Yes, yes, you can do whatever you want to me, just don’t stop.”

There is nothing in the world that could stop Charles, not when Edwin is looking at him like this, so he doesn’t waste a second before reaching out and… … and Edwin is hard against his hands.

Back when Charles was devising this plan, he expected the pleasure to be the same kind he feels when kissing Edwin, a mental kind of sensation, beautiful but still non-corporeal, just like the two of them are.

But now, Edwin is hard, straining against the seams of his pants, and Charles might be having an aneurysm caused by the absolute tidal wave of lust crashing over him, burying him, drowning him. Because Edwin is hard for him, and Charles never needed to touch him more.

“Fuck, Edwin, I swear-”, he stutters out, fingers slipping across the buttons, fumbling to get them open. Finally, he succeeds, and all but rips them down Edwin’s hips, uncaring that the fabric strains and he will get scolded for it later. Now, however, it doesn’t matter, because Edwin is hard, his cock flushed and pink and shining with precome, and Charles needs to touch him.

He brings a hand up to his lips and licks it – Edwin makes a sound at that, and the thought that he is watching him might be what finally does Charles’ mind in completely – before wrapping it around Edwin’s cock, giving it a long, slow stroke to savour the feeling, the silkiness of Edwin’s skin, the heat of his blood-warmed flesh. It’s so little still, yet it makes Edwin moan loud and broken and desperate, and when Charles looks up at him, his head is thrown back, his beautiful, long throat bared for Charles to kiss. Which he does, wet and messy, licking down the length from Edwin’s jaw to his collarbone, sucking where the tendons are standing out. He can feel the vibrations of Edwin’s moans against his lips with every stroke of his hand, and maybe this is the first time he is doing it, but Charles will be damned if he won’t find out every little thing that makes Edwin moan, every touch that makes him shiver.

“God, I love you”, he whispers against Edwin’s throat, drags his teeth across the sensitive skin there and twists his hand around Edwin’s cock on a downstroke to find out if it changes his pitch, deepens his pleasure. “I love you the most of everything in this whole world, thank you so much for letting me touch you, for-”

“Charles”, Edwin interrupts him, one hand sliding into his hair to make him look at Edwin, whose eyes are dark with lust, with wonder. “Charles, I can feel you.”

It makes Charles stop dead in his tracks, his hand coming to a rest mid-stroke and drawing a desperate little sound from Edwin, who is still looking down at him like he has performed a miracle. And maybe he has, because… because Charles can feel him, too.

“Edwin”, he breathes out, overwhelmed. He can feel the heat of Edwin’s skin against his, not as a memory or a spark, a thrum in his mind, but like skin. A moment passes in which he is frozen in place, then Charles surges forwards to kiss Edwin with everything he has, every bit of love and gratitude and eternal devotion.

This kiss is not their first, and it doesn’t feel like it either, but it is the first of its kind, and Charles drinks down every sound Edwin makes, brings his hand up to cradle Edwin’s face, stroke his fingertips along his jaw, down his throat. It makes Edwin shiver, and Charles laughs against his lips, still mindless, speechless.

“I can feel you”, Edwin mutters, and there are tears in his eyes, tinting his voice, and he’s so beautiful Charles feels like he is looking straight into the sun, it’s so blinding. “Me too”, Charles answers and Edwin’s smile grows wider still.

For a moment, it’s just that, and it’s enough, more than that, even, but then Charles remembers Edwin’s lust-darkened eyes, his body arching towards him, the feeling of Edwin’s cock blood-hot against his palm, and Charles needs to see him fall apart beneath him. “I’ll make sure you really feel me”, he tells Edwin with a wink, ignoring the tears in both their eyes, and gives him one more kiss before he slides his hand down Edwin’s body one more time.

His skin is soft, slightly slick, and so, so warm, and Charles gives him one, two strokes, just to watch Edwin move with the motion, chasing Charles’ touch, before he leans back in and kisses a line from Edwin’s lips to the hollow of his throat, dragging his teeth across the expanse of Edwin’s collarbones. It draws a soft moan from Edwin’s lips, so Charles does it again, while his hand speeds up around Edwin’s cock, alternating the pressure between strokes to find out what will make Edwin lose his mind the fastest.

L ike this, he might be the most beautiful Charles has ever seen him, reacting to every touch, every little kiss, and for a moment, Charles wonders what would have happened if Edwin had been permitted to grow up. If he would have found someone to love him like Charles loves him, if he would have permitted someone else to take him apart like this. However, in the end it doesn’t matter, because Charles is here now and he will do his best that Edwin never even has to think about anyone else.

He sucks an invisible mark onto the base of Edwin’s neck, another one over where his pulse point would be, and Edwin’s hips snap up, trying to get more friction and Charles is desperate for this, for everything else Edwin will give him. With the next upwards stroke, he twists his hand a little and Edwin moans so sweetly, one of his hands coming to rest on Charles’ lower back and pulling him closer. Charles moves willingly, like he does every time Edwin directs him, pressing against his side until there is pressure against his crotch, and. Oh.

Giving Edwin pleasure had been more than enough, but now Edwin’s hip is pressing against him and suddenly, Charles notices that he is achingly hard inside his pants. His hand stutters around Edwin’s cock as his hips give a few uncoordinated, messy thrusts, Charles moaning against the crook of Edwin’s neck. “Charles, are you-”, Edwin asks, sounding downright debauched in how he moans Charles’ name, and it’s enough to snap Charles back to thinking, to acting.

“Of course, I’m hard”, he answers against Edwin’s skin between kisses, his hand returning to stroking Edwin slowly, deliberately, “I’m touching you, I’m listening to you, how could I-” His words leave him when Edwin pulls him closer still, on purpose this time. Instead, he moans, smears his kisses onto Edwin’s skin, bites them into his flesh.

It feels like heaven, but it’s still not enough, because Edwin is still coherent enough to talk while Charles feels like he is slowly losing his grip on reality. So, he pulls his hand away from Edwin’s cock for a moment, licks it messily to slick up the glide when he returns it to where it belongs, only that…

… only that he can taste Edwin on his skin.

He shouldn’t be able to pinpoint it so easily, but he can, maybe because he hasn’t tasted anything in three decades, because when he darts out his tongue again, he cannot taste the salt of his own sweat, only something different, musky. Only Edwin.

The realisation rips through him, leaves him light-headed and almost blind with lust. Beneath him, Edwin whines, most likely because of the lack of contact, but Charles can hardly hear him over the desire coursing through his veins.

“Edwin, I can taste you”, he slurs, half as an explanation, and it feels like crying, feels like praying. This time, he doesn’t wait for an answer, however, because Charles can taste him, and it’s not enough. Won’t be enough until his tongue is coated in Edwin’s taste, warmed by his body heat.

Without another word, h e slides down Edwin’s body, wraps one hand around his cock again and swallows down as much of him as he can. He’s warm against Charles’ tongue, the skin soft and smooth, and he tastes like the only thing Charles will ever taste again and it’s more than he could have ever asked for.

Edwin’s hips buck up, but Charles’ gag reflex died with him, so he doesn’t care, just starts bobbing his head in time with Edwin’s thrusts, caught between the slick sounds of his own lips sliding against skin and Edwin’s gasps, his moans of Charles’ name. The hand that slides into his curls, not pushing, just holding onto something, the lust that comes in waves with every new sensation, and, of course, Edwin’s taste across his tongue, seeping into his very being.

“Charles”, Edwin forces out, almost coherent, and Charles understands the warning as what it is, then ignores it thoroughly. There is no way Edwin is coming anywhere but down his throat. So he picks up his rhythm, brings down his second hand to cup Edwin’s balls, and sucks as hard as he can.

Edwin comes with a shout of Charles’ name, bucking off the makeshift bed almost violently. His hand tightens in Charles’ hair until he can feel the pinpricks of it, his muscles shaking, and Charles can taste him more clearly than anything he has ever tasted before. It’s heaven, kneeling right there between Edwin’s thighs and sucking him through his orgasm, licking him clean afterwards, smoothing his hands across the soft plane of Edwin’s stomach. Feeling him, tasting him.

When the last aftershocks have subsided, Charles settles down next to Edwin, curling up close, and watches as Edwin’s eyes slowly open once mor e. T hey are hazy, but full of adoration, a lazy smile spreading across his kiss-red lips. “ That was incredible”, he whispers, because Charles is close enough that he can hear it anyway. And he presses a kiss to his lips that Charles can still feel, rests their foreheads together, and it’s everything, because Edwin is everything.

Only that then, he pulls away, and Charles almost whines because he shouldn’t be forced to spend a second not touching Edwin when he can feel it, and when he doesn’t yet know if this is something that will wear off with time again. But Edwin doesn’t go far, only enough to look at Charles with eyes that are slowly regaining their green, his thick brows furrowed just so.

“You… didn’t, though”, he says, and he’s right, but for a moment, Charles wants to tell him not to worry about it anyway. Because being here, being close is enough, would always have been enough for Charles, had they realised that this didn’t work. He saw Edwin fall apart beneath his hands and his mouth, heard him gasp out his name, tasted him and felt him, and really, that is more than he ever could have hoped for.

However, Edwin has other plans, quite obviously, because he shifts so he can press the side of his thigh against Charles’ aching erection and suddenly, Charles isn’t sure if that is an option any longer. It’s like Edwin’s touch reignites every spark of lust in his body, and maybe that even makes sense, since it’s the only thing Charles has felt in decades.

He lets out a low moan, hips grinding forward, and Edwin is kissing him, smiling against his lips, moving one of his hands to lightly rest on Charles’ stomach. Asking for permission, quite clearly, which he quite obviously can have, because there is nothing Charles wants more than Edwin’s hands on him.

Only that there is.

“Edwin”, he gasps out, trying his best not to lose his mind as Edwin’s hand slips underneath the waistband of his trousers, teasing. “Have you ever heard of a refractory period?” A moment of pause, then Edwin says, “No, but what has that to do with anything?”

Everything.

He leaves Edwin on the makeshift bed for a few moments and hunts down the hand lotion Crystal keeps around for when the dust in the office gets too much for her delicate skin, makes a mental promise to never let her find out about this, and to make up for it somehow. Because right now, he doesn’t what else to do, but use it.

Edwin is still naked and glorious when he returns, looking like the kind of lover that would have inspired poetry in the past, the kind Edwin sometimes reads him at night when they are curled up on the sofa. His hair is mussed, his lips are cherry red and he is watching Charles with curious, half-lidded eyes in a way that makes Charles feel loved and wanted and a little bit like prey.

“So, the thing is this”, Charles says, dropping the lotion bottle on the sofa and starting to shuck off his shirt. “I really need to feel you inside of me.” The words draw a sound from Edwin, choked and disbelieving, and Charles allows himself a smile as he discards his shirt and vest, starts to work on his trousers. He doesn’t get far, though, because Edwin surges up and replaces Charles’ fingers with his own, sliding down the zipper while looking up at him from dark eyes.

And what a picture he makes, sitting there on the bed naked, right in front of Charles, ready to be kissed, ready to be touched.

“You want that?”, Edwin asks, and Charles credits Niko’s manga collection with the breathless understanding painted across his face, thanks her for it silently. He’s not sure if he could make it through an anatomy lesson right now, when he feels like he is going to explode if he doesn’t feel Edwin soon. “More than anything”, Charles answers, and it’s like Edwin’s breath catches in his throat, at least the sound of it. “You have absolutely no idea.”

His trousers drop to the floor and neither gives them a second thought, Edwin because he looks at Charles like he has never truly seen him before, Charles because Edwin is right there, beautiful and willing to give him this, and always, always loved. Without wasting a second, Charles pushes his briefs down and Edwin makes another sound, wounded and almost desperate this time, and while he hasn’t touched Charles much yet, his hands are suddenly all over him. Trembling fingers run along his sides, smooth across his thighs, then Edwin leans in and presses a kiss to Charles’ stomach, another and another until Charles has to push a hand into his hair to stop him.

“Edwin, babe”, he breathes out shakily, almost moaning when Edwin nuzzles the skin below his navel, “can’t do that right now, or otherwise we won’t get very far at all.” It takes a moment, but then Edwin looks up, so smug that Charles falls in love with him all over again. “Next time, though?”, he asks and Charles nods immediately, light-headed because this is not only a possibility now, but a promise. “Good. I want to know how you taste. How you feel against my lips. I have never touched another man before, but I want you to be the first.”

“Edwin!” Charles is half-laughing, half-groaning; he cannot listen to this now, or probably ever. So, he pushes Edwin back onto the mattress with a gentle, but firm hand, and Edwin goes willingly, sprawling onto the mattress like an oil painting, like the wet dreams Charles can hardly remember having. His skin gleams in the dim light of their office, his hair is a mess that Charles’ hands have caused, and…

Charles feels like he might faint the hundredth time this day, because right there across Edwin’s throat, painted in dusty pink, the marks Charles has been trying to suck onto his skin are glistening.

Faintly, he is aware that he is breathing out a moan, because one of Edwin’s eyebrows rises, but it doesn’t matter, the only thing that still matters is that Charles’ lips have left traces on Edwin’s perfect skin. “Fuck”, he mutters under his breath while he clambers back onto the sofa, limbs uncooperative with his sudden desperation, until he is straddling Edwin’s thighs and can kiss him again fiercely, first his lips, then the side of his jaw, the soft skin of his throat, already marked and yet still far too pristine. Without hesitation, Edwin bares his throat to him, and Charles takes the invitation, bites at the tendons there, before licking the sting away once more.

“Edwin, I can see them on you”, he groans against his skin once he can think again, hands grabbing every bit of Edwin they can find, “there’s marks on your skin, my marks.” The sound Edwin makes is almost wounded; he pulls Charles closer, one hand coming up to press his head against the crook of his neck, and Charles opens his mouth and bites him there, sucks at the flesh until he can feel its heat.

You’re mine , he thinks, although it’s nonsensical, because Edwin has never been anyone else’s, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine .

At the same time, he’s reaching for the bottle of lotion, because as much as he needs to see his claim on Edwin’s skin, he needs to feel him so deep inside of him that he’ll never forget the sensation.

“Charles, let me”, Edwin breathes out when he realises what he is doing, but Charles just shakes his head, unwilling to let go of Edwin for even a second. “It’ll be quicker if I do it”, he explains, words spoken against the slick, warm skin of Edwin’s collarbone. “Can’t feel my own fingers, can I?”

Edwin chokes at that, but he doesn’t disagree, only grips Charles’ back and drags him forward, causing Charles’ cock to be caught between them, sliding against Edwin’s stomach, and it feels like dying . Pleasure shoots up Charles’ spine, filling him to brim, and before he knows it, he is gasping against Edwin’s neck, doing his best to still his hips, because he could come like this within minutes, if not seconds.

He takes a shaky breath, trying to calm himself, before prying the bottle of lotion open, still almost desperate as he blindly squeezes some of it on his fingers. It feels like nothing at all, just like everything but Edwin does, but Charles reaches behind himself and finds his entrance, wasting no time before shoving two fingers inside of himself. This, too, is only a matter of faint pressure and the awareness of his hand’s position, but maybe it’s for the best, because Edwin’s fingers are leaving tracks of fire on his bare back, tickling along his sides and sliding against the nape of his neck, tender and possessive at the same time.

Scissoring his fingers, he mouths at Edwin’s throat again, cock dragging against his stomach when Charles pushes his fingers deeper still. Sparks of pleasure tingle through his limbs, setting his blood on fire, and Charles is faintly aware that he is moaning, his hips rolling against Edwin desperately. The memory of his muscles is easily coaxed into giving in, and Charles adds a third finger as soon as the pressure around them fades, because even if they technically have forever, it feels like he might die if he doesn’t feel Edwin inside of him soon.

For now, though, he loses himself in the pleasure of Edwin’s fingers, in the drag of his cock between their bodies, and it’s only when Edwin mutters his name against the crown of his head that he resurfaces, nipping at Edwin’s throat once more before pulling back slightly, resting his chin on Edwin’s mess of a collarbone to look up at him. He’s beautiful from every angle, at every moment, and yet he looks impossibly so now, staring down at Charles with something like awe in his beautiful, beautiful eyes.

“I love you”, Edwin tells him, and Charles feels like dying, feels like he has come alive again. “I love you, too”, he answers, and it’s everything and more than he could ever has asked for and something he will never get enough of.

He surges up to kiss Edwin like his whole existence depends on it and Edwin kisses back with the same fervour, and Charles needs him more than he has ever needed anything before.

Although it is impossibly difficult to leave the warmth of Edwin’s skin, he pushes himself up, fingers slipping out, and maybe he is stretched enough, maybe it will hurt; Niko’s manga only shows so much about the process, and Charles hadn’t bothered to do more than perfunctory research otherwise. And anyway, he realises, while he sits back on Edwin’s thighs, trembling and looking down on the blotchy mess he has made of Edwin’s throat, maybe he wouldn’t mind a hint of pain, as long as if it was caused by Edwin.

When he looks down, his cock is leaking and so is Edwin’s, and it’s everything he never thought they could have, and maybe there is something poetic and poignant about that; maybe he will have to ask Edwin about it later. For now, it doesn’t matter, because Charles is burning up inside, every non-corporeal atom of his body aching for Edwin’s touch, his kisses, his hands on him.

“I’m gonna-”, Charles starts, squeezing more lotion on his hands and forgetting how to speak halfway through the sentence, because Edwin is watching him with so much desire in his eyes that it scrambles his brain. “I’m gonna touch you.” And he does.

Edwin’s cock is hot and silky in his hand, twitching as Charles spreads the lotion across his skin, and Charles has to stop himself from leaning down and tasting him again. They’ll have time for that later, he tells himself, and it is true and yet something Charles can hardly believe they will be granted.

Instead, he gives Edwin two, three slow strokes, watches the muscles under his skin work as Edwin chases his touch, fire burning him up. It’s like a physical need buried inside him, a void only Edwin can fill, and Charles knows he is trembling when he rises up on his knees, shaking when he positions himself awkwardly above Edwin’s lovely, leaking cock.

“I love you”, he tells him again, for no reason but that he wants to taste the words, and slowly lowers himself down onto Edwin’s cock. It’s strange at first, the pressure and the single point of warmth where they are touching, but then his body gives way and Edwin is inside of him, and the feeling is indescribable.

There is a hint of pain, like an after image from staring too long into the sun, but it’s nothing, hardly worth mentioning, because Edwin is hot and firm, spreading him open and moulding a space for himself inside of Charles’ body where he belongs, setting him aflame from the inside in the process.

He’s moaning Edwin’s name, hands pawing at his chest, and then Edwin reaches out and pulls him down, kisses Charles like he has never been kissed before. Edwin’s hands are on his shoulder and in his hair and it makes Edwin’s cock shift inside of him, and Charles is lost in this. His hips roll to get more friction, making Edwin gasp into his mouth, so he does it again, and again, and again, until they are moaning against each other’s lips, fingers trying to find purchase to ground themselves.

Every motion makes sparks fly up Charles’s spine, tingling down his arms to the tips of his fingers, and then Edwin rocks up in time with him, causing his cock to slide even deeper, and Charles moans like the sound was punched out of his lungs. He is clinging to Edwin now, grinding down onto him, and he could cease to exist like this happily, because Edwin is all around him, inside of him, on the tip of his tongue.

The friction is enough to make him gasp, almost makes him weep, but Edwin rolls his hips like he is trying to drive Charles out of his mind and some angle, some detail must change, because the head of his cock drags against a spot inside of Charles that makes him see stars.

He all but shouts out Edwin’s name, grinding down against him to get more of the pleasure, and Edwin gives it willingly. His teeth catch on Charles’ bottom lip as his hand slides down to rest on Charles’ thigh, gripping it like he needs to hold onto him to keep his sanity, and Charles understands it perfectly. “You feel so good”, he slurs into Edwin’s mouth between desperate rolls of his hips, and Edwin makes a little, wounded sound, holds him tighter. “I love you so much, I love you so much.”

Edwin seems to be beyond words, but that is okay, because he is still kissing Charles like he is drowning, fucking up into him just right, and Charles is lost in the motion and the pleasure and the love, until Edwin sneaks a hand between their bodies and grasps his cock.

And it’s too much.

It doesn’t even take a single stroke before Charles is coming, bucking up desperately into Edwin’s hand, grinding down onto his cock. The pleasure is unlike anything he has ever felt before, overwhelming him completely and leaving him breathless until he cannot tell where Edwin ends and he begins. His body is alight, and he is burning up and he couldn’t ask for anything better, so he sobs his love and devotion into Edwin’s open mouth and knows he will be heard.

It only takes a few moments longer until Edwin follows him, thrusting up into Charles’ willing body, holding him close, and if there is anything that feels better than falling apart around Edwin, it’s feeling him do the same underneath of Charles, because of him.

They ride out their orgasms together until Charles is weak and trembling above Edwin, all but collapsing on his chest. Slender arms come up to wrap around his middle, and Charles has felt loved before, feels loved every day now, but the motion still brings tears to his eyes as he snuggles into Edwin’s embrace.

For a long while, neither of them speaks, although there are a thousand things to be said, at least half of them I love you, but there are no words left in Charles’ mind.

Eventually, he presses a kiss, soft and sweet and tender, against one of the bruises he has left on Edwin’s collarbone, and Edwin’s arms tighten around him in response. And maybe that is all that needs to be said, after all.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #painland #paynland #charles x edwin #i cannot stop writing them it is insane #this is almost 7k of just them loving each other so so so so much and finally being able to do something about it (handjobs etc)

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coloursflyaway · 1 day

Text

Won't Want For Love (1/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.000

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment. If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him. or: Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

thank you guys for the support and the kind comments! ♥

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

“What?”, he replies, several seconds too late because his brain refuses to process whatever it is Charles just said. It can’t be what Edwin heard, after all.

“We should go on a date”, Charles repeats and the only explanation Edwin can come up with is that he must have some kind of new auditory processing issue, because he cannot be saying this. “How else am I supposed to find out if I can fall in love with you?” He says it like it is a completely reasonable, obvious solution, and Edwin is fairly certain that if he was still breathing, he would be gasping for air. “I don’t know! Think about it!”, he replies, panic rising somewhere deep in his chest, and still feels like drowning.

“Edwin, mate”, Charles says, smiling like Edwin is being a little silly instead of trying his best not to scream. “I’ve been doing a whole lot of that and it’s not really working, is it? I just love you too much for that already. Maybe if we had had that revelation in ‘94 or something, it could have worked with just thinking. But now? That’s like asking me to figure out if I can fall in love with myself.”

He gets up and walks over to the desk where Edwin is sitting, perching on the corner like he has done a thousand times before, and Edwin feels himself get a little light-headed at the thought that Charles considers this a situation they are both in in equal parts. Their revelation, their confession, their thing to figure out.

“We spend basically every second of every day together”, Charles continues, and Edwin knows that he has lost, because Charles obviously has put some thought into this and he has never been particularly good at saying no to him. “Which is why everything now just feels like it always has. And don’t get me wrong, I very much enjoy how everything has always been, but I meant it when I said that we would figure out the rest. So, I am going to take you out on a date, and then another one, and then, another one, until I can give you the answer you deserve. Okay? Great.”

Still smiling, Charles slides off the desk again, clasping a hand on Edwin’s shoulder and leaning in like he is about to share a secret. “Be ready at seven tomorrow. And wear something pretty, I’m taking you somewhere fancy.”

Crystal must be in on this, because the restaurant Charles takes him to is fancy, their table in a little alcove, away from the crowds, and no one seems to be bothered that the guests who booked it don’t show up. “I know we can’t really eat”, Charles explains while he pulls the chair back so Edwin can sit down, “But I still thought it would be nice to pretend. Also, most things people do on dates seem to have something to do with food, so it’s not like there were a ton of options.”

He walks to sit down opposite of Edwin, giving him a smile, and it’s silly, it’s immature, it’s absolutely nonsensical, but it makes Edwin’s non-existent heart flutter in his chest. If he was still alive, he would be blushing. Because Charles has dressed up for this, and while Edwin has seen him in these clothes before – a fitted black shirt, chequered trousers, his silver chain glittering in the candlelight – it’s different now, because Charles dressed up for him.

“That’s perfectly fine”, Edwin says and tries to figure out what to do with his hands, to put them into his lap or rest them on the table. In all of his existence, he has never been nervous around Charles, not when they first met and not when they were getting to know each other and not when he was confessing his love on the steps to Hell, and yet here he is sitting, unsure if he’ll manage to string a sentence together. “I am sure we will manage. Even without the eating.”

For a moment, Charles just watches him, then his face splits into the widest possible grin. “Edwin”, he asks, amused and so, so fond, “Are you nervous?” He sounds like he can hardly believe it when he is, in fact, completely right, but then again, Edwin can hardly believe it himself.

“Absolutely terrified, actually”, he admits and starts laughing because of the ridiculousness of it all. Charles joins in, happy and familiar, then reaches out to take the hand Edwin has put on the table in his own. “If it helps, I’m nervous too”, he says once their laughter has died down, and it does. “Have you ever done this before? Been on a date?”

Edwin shakes his head, and Charles grins at him again, squeezes his hand. “Aces. Me neither, so we can figure it out together. Sounds like a plan?” And somehow, it does.

“So, this new case”, Edwin starts, because he isn’t quite sure what else to say, “I’d say the best way forward is to-” “Uh uh”, Charles interrupts him; he’s still smiling though, so Edwin doesn’t take it too personally. “No shop talk. This is supposed to be a date, remember? We can talk about the case later.”

It makes precious little sense and yet Charles says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like Edwin could have somehow known this. “Well, what else are we supposed to talk about, then?”, he asks and it makes Charles laugh. “I’m not sure”, he answers, and somehow it makes Edwin feel better, feel worse. “As established, I also have no experience in this. But I think it should be about getting to know the other person, you see, figure out if you have a connection.”

“Charles. You already know everything about me. And obviously, there is a connection between us. We have been best friends for three decades. This whole operation is pointless, then.” Edwin crosses his arms in front of his chest, and yes, maybe he doesn’t quite mean it. Maybe, he is enjoying this despite the fact that it is severely impacting his ability to function. “Hold on, hold on”, Charles stops him, somehow still laughing. “First of all, highly offensive, because hanging out with me is obviously never pointless. It’s a pleasure and you should enjoy it, actually. Second, I’m sure I don’t know everything about you yet.”

“Is that so?”, Edwin replies, arching an eyebrow in the way he knows annoys Charles the most. “What don’t you know, pray tell?” “Let’s see… what’s the first memory you have?”

He is unbearably proud of himself for that one, Edwin can tell in the way Charles leans back, grinning at Edwin, because he knows he has won. And he has, because that is, in fact, something they have never discussed, and because unfortunately, Edwin hasn’t been able to say no to him since at least 1996.

Sighing, Edwin represses the urge to roll his eyes, even more so represses the urge to declare his undying love for Charles once more, and thinks. “White lace, I think. And the scent of freshly baked bread.”

“Sounds brills, if you ask me”, Charles replies and Edwin does know he has no functioning heart, but that doesn’t mean he cannot feel it expand in his chest, press against his ribcage as if trying to escape, because Charles’ eyes are soft and he looks so delighted by such a small, insignificant detail of Edwin’s past. “Mine’s not quite as poetic, I’m afraid”, Charles continues, which is incorrect no matter what, because Edwin could write a ballad about the colour of Charles’ eyes, about the way he twirls his cricket bat, about the way he smiles at every little child they pass on the streets, even if he knows they cannot see him. “My mum planting tulips in our backyard. I was allowed to help, although I am pretty sure I just made everything a lot more difficult.”

It’s an impossibly sweet picture, although Edwin isn’t certain if Charles knows he is painting it, and it lingers between them for a few moments, until Charles asks another question. “So, we’ve established that neither of us have been on dates before, but, like. When you were alive, did you ever have a crush on someone? Someone you would have liked to go out with?”

“It wasn’t like that, obviously, with the times being what they were, but… there was someone”, Edwin answers, hesitating far less than he would have expected. The thought stings, because he did have to leave Simon behind in Hell, still ripping page after page from a never-ending book, blood streaming down his cut-up hands… Edwin shakes his head to clear it from things he cannot change. “He was kind, rather smart… and part of the reason why I ended up in Hell. So, all things considered, probably not a great choice.”

Edwin tries and gives Charles a wry smile, but Charles is looking at him with something in his eyes that Edwin cannot place. It reminds him of when they are on a case, some of that seriousness, that intensity in his gaze, along with something Edwin hasn’t seen before.

“Did you think he was cute?”, Charles asks, unreadable still, and it’s quite the startling question, if, at least, one that Edwin can answer easily. “Yes, quite so.”

Charles stays quiet for a few seconds, like he is pondering his answer, short as it was, then he suddenly breaks out into a smile that is so bright it takes Edwin’s metaphorical breath away.

“You know what”, he says, and Edwin is positive that he knows nothing at all anymore, every bit of information swept away by the sheer brightness of Charles’ expression. “This is working out pretty great with figuring things out. Because I definitely didn’t like hearing that.”

And Charles grins, like he hasn’t just short-circuited whatever was left of Edwin’ brain, and continues to make it worse with, “Actually, let’s try something else real quick. Do you think I’m cute?”

It’s not the word Edwin would use, but then again, he wouldn’t use any word, because he is quite sure he has forgotten how to speak. Instead, he nods, and Charles’ grin impossibly widens.

“See”, he says and Edwin is going to die a second time right here, right now. “I liked that much better.”

Charles insists on walking back home instead of travelling via mirror, stating that according to his research, he shouldn’t just walk Edwin back home, but also offer up his umbrella, open every door for him and should have paid for his meal. As it’s not raining and the other two things are either pointless or not applicable to their situation, Charles explained, Edwin would at least have to allow him this.

So they meander through the city, Charles talking and joking and asking questions that Edwin has a hard time answering, because sometime around when Charles had mentioned his research, his brain had gotten stuck on one thing.

“You know, Charles”, he finally interrupts when he knows they are getting close to the agency, because he has to get this out before they are back in their bubble of familiarity, the safe little nest they have built over the years. “You don’t have to try this hard. I appreciate it, I really do, but I will be fine regardless.”

Charles doesn’t stop walking, just looks at Edwin, affection and amusement battling for the upper hand in his expression. “Yeah, mate, I know you’ll be alright, because I’ll bloody well make sure of it”, he replies and it’s infuriating because it seems like all of this is so, so easy for Charles while Edwin feels like he is just so keeping the grip on his sanity. “But have you ever considered that I might want to give this a try? Because, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but I really like you a lot. So if I could fall in love with you, my favourite person in existence, that would actually be pretty mint.”

And he smiles at Edwin, happy and certain and not at all like someone who is considers this a burden, and Edwin thinks, oh.

And when Charles pulls him closer to link their arms together, he lets him.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #they will be the death of me i swear to god

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