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"No matter how this ends" That implied it would end, that what they shared was transient, fleeting, flickering, that something would inevitably come between them. Though whatever that was remained unknown. Be it distance, apathy or death. Forever was only a fantasy, and one Edmund clung to...

If Edmund were honest, he never considered Geneva's consequential pregnancy. Sure, he knew how children came into being. That wasn't what he'd dismissed. It was the idea of Geneva swollen and barely ambulatory for the better part of a year that he'd never paused to think of. Never mind the pain...

Even, but not quite. Because, though both he and Oliver would be in fake marriages, dissemblance wasn't a necessary part of Edmund and Theo's to-be relationship. Where Oliver and Geneva needed to keep appearances for the public and to ameliorate child bearing and rearing, Edmund didn't need to...

A wedding and subsequent marriage to Theo would be hell until they developed a tolerance and functioning partnership. An 'ends justify the means' kind of marriage. Theo wasn't unreasonable. Cut from a different cloth and socially disparate, yes. But not so irrational as to repudiate Edmund. In...

"It doesn't." Edmund agreed. And he didn't know if anything could. It was said that journeys ended in lovers meeting, that fate would find a way to tie those star-crossed. But no one ever said it would be a happy ending those couples found. Edmund wanted to keep optimistic, but the deeper he...

'Next time', could one ask for a better review than suggestion of a repeat performance? Possibly. Oliver wasn't exactly extolling Edmund's ability, but neither was such needed. The raillery, jest, and ease between them conveyed something more intimate than any praise could. Edmund wrapped an arm...

"Of course." Edmund hummed in agreement. Oliver's willingness to try new things was encouraging, a kind of youthful curiosity that was philter all on its own. Though, Edmund couldn't help feeling that Oliver's post-climax review would be of his ability and not the new sensation experienced. Such...

That Oliver wasn't giving permission with either enthusiasm or indifference lead Edmund to believe he'd likely never experimented with himself in such a way. He wouldn't be just trying it with Edmund, but trying it for the absolute first time. Such inexperience was all at once endearing...

The radio thrummed and popped. Electric laughter in the wake of Cat’s goading. Or something’s goading. Harvey’s nerves may have been alive with panic, muscles inert with consternation, but he knew that wasn’t truly Cat speaking over the radio. Not the real her anyways. Perhaps it was a memory...

"Well," Edmund drawled in thought, running his hands along Oliver's thighs. There really was no euphemistic way of putting it, and he supposed maybe that was for the best. Though a bit crass, being direct had the benefit of precluding any misunderstanding. Or so Edmund hoped. Oliver may have...

"It was something you clearly liked." Edmund didn't know if such an observation should have left him feeling abashed or not. Much like how physical intimacy was new to Oliver, uninhibited emotional expression was new to Edmund. He wasn't reserved, but curbed emotions seen as undignified or...

Stopping wasn't what Edmund wanted. God, it was the last thing he wanted to ask for. Every fiber of his being was begging Oliver to take him, tacit supplication and yearning. It was a visceral need that Edmund was denying himself. And he honestly felt that he deserved a fucking accolade for his...

"You tempt me to monologue." Edmund ribbed, but that was his only dissent to Oliver's light-hearted cavil. He wondered if Oliver spoke so flippantly with anyone else, foregoing comity and noble parlance in favor of more vernacular phrasing. There was something ingenuous about it that made Edmund...

Edmund's body was an open book book beneath Oliver's touch. Braille written in a langue of yearning and devotion. His spine yielded, arching gratefully. His covers spread more willingly than a whore's thighs. And in the intimate, pale crevices of his pages, he eagerly awaited Oliver's mark...

More stimulating than coffee or khat, Edmund could think of nothing better to wake with than Oliver's kiss. Even with the stale taste of sleep in their mouths, the confection of Oliver's lips was without compare the sweetest Edmund had ever indulged in. Honeyed with ardor, spiced with tease...

"Straight to business, eh?" Edmund teased, voice soft so as not to break the morning quite. "No 'how did you sleep' or 'did you dream of me', just cut to the chase." He laughed soundlessly, a smile on his lips. Though he was joking, Edmund couldn't fault Oliver's train of thought. Time was never...

Though they had viewed every nook of the house, the entirety of the master bedroom included, Harvey was compelled to review it once more. To familiarize himself and check for any curiosities or disturbances, he supposed. That was the euphemistic and less pathetic way of describing his search for...

The comfort of Oliver against him was inimitable and pure. Edmund could only hope the wordless press of his body to Oliver's requited such a feeling. Safety, acceptance, love... Love, what other word was there for care beyond self-interest? Edmund's jealousy, possession and otherwise impulsive...

Edmund was more than willing to assist in Oliver's request, especially since he'd already started. With alacrity, cuffs were unlinked, buttons unfastened, and articles shrugged. He returned Oliver's kiss with sleep-heavy fervor, indulging in the comfort of such casual affection. No affected...

"If you ever slept in the servant's quarters, you'd know how valuable that materialistic shit is." Edmund chuckled. It could even be argued that a bed of his own was a physical want of one kind, but he knew what Oliver meant. There was no need to tease him with semantics. The weight of sleep...