Vacillation (1x1 Mamoru and Avery)

That Oliver hadn't even bothered to draw elicited an irritable click from Edmund's tongue. "And you accuse me of throwing a game." he reproved teasingly. As though to lessen the accusation, he flipped the top card of the deck. The page of swords. Oliver would have likely lost regardless. By fate or fortune, the victory was Edmund's. He collected the cards once again into a whole deck and set them aside.

"My request," Edmund began slowly, drawing out every word as he attentively unpinned and untied his cravat. "Is for you to wear a blindfold for three minutes." He offered the full length of his cravat for doing so. The fabric was warm and wrinkled from wear, but opaque. And that was what mattered.

Because for all the ardor and devotion Edmund had for Oliver, his eyes could steal Edmund's confidence and leave him diffident as a boy again. They were no longer in the dark mercy of night. Every flaw and imperfection was put beneath light's microscope, presented for judgement. Or maybe Edmund was just a coward, and wanted an easy, though genuine, kiss. Or maybe it was more depraved. Without sight, Oliver's other senses would heighten, and in that imperfect dark beneath the blindfold was anticipation of what would come.
 
"Only three minutes?" Oliver questioned, but made no move to decline. If anything, he leaned forward to grab the cravat from his grasp and looked over its length. It would most likely fit around the circumference of his head just fine, and hopefully not be too snug of a fit. He lifted it up to his face and then pulled the two ends back behind his head, and did a snug knot, but made sure it was loose enough to come undone without much struggle.

"And now what are we to do, with me robbed of my eyesight?" He inquired. He was still facing the direction of Edmund but it felt like he wasn't, really. His senses began to adjust to the loss of one, Edmund's warmth and scent becoming a tad bit more prominent -- a subconcious reminder that he was still here and wouldn't be going anywhere soon.
 
"Three minutes is the minimum." Edmund explained as he began to remove the contents of his pockets. "Otherwise, It can last as long as you like." And he intended to stretch those three minutes as masochistically long as possible.

The mattress dipped and hiccuped as Edmund stood, keeping an eye on Oliver all the while. He began setting his things on the wine tray, purposefully louder than usual. He snapped his snuff box against it. Let his picks fall with a clatter. And his knife, Edmund unsheathed it, contemplating the blade and Oliver. He wanted to just press it against Oliver's skin, flat and cold, a mock threat, a subtle tease. But he resheathed it and set it down, thinking better of it. The deck was taken from the bed, and Edmund thumbed the side of it, listened to the slap-snap of the cards before setting them on the tray as well, out of the way. He then stripped off his jacket and tossed it beside Oliver, before returning to sit in front of him. Maybe a minute had passed.

"You look good like this." He complimented, the cut of his smile going unseen. With the callous tips of his fingers, Edmund traced Oliver's jaw. "It frames one of your finer assets." Glabrous, pristine, as though neither stubble nor razor had ever touched it. A result of finer things, no doubt. His index hooked beneath Oliver's jaw and Edmund gently pressed his thumb against Oliver's bottom lip, admiring the way it softly received and embraced his touch.

"Where am I to start?"
 
The obvious trick Edmund was trying to play with Oliver made him sad to admit that it worked. The overly loud placement of items onto the tray really got Oliver a bit nervous, on edge for what else Edmund could possibly be doing or planning. The sounds were almost abrasive but he was able to handle it. He started trying to guess what each item was, based upon their sound but could only guess what sort of material it was. There was the obvious clang of metals, perhaps his lock picks. Something in a box, something he couldn't quite place, and the weighty sound of another thing he didn't know. Each and every sound left Oliver more and more curious.

"Oh, you don't like my eyes, Edmund?" Oliver retorted, though in a playful tone. The touch was more than welcome, though light as it glided along his jaw. The firm but gentle press of his thumb to his lower lip was a bit of a surprise but he didn't move himself away, merely staying still, waiting.

"Good question. Where are you to start?"
 
"I like your eyes just fine." Edmund dismissed, his focus elsewhere, lingering. "They're ensorceling, in fact. Sometimes keeping me from enjoying some of your other, fine assets." He drew his thumb along Oliver's bottom lip, feeling every subtly of its texture, admiring its elasticity and thickness. Edmund couldn't help rolling his own between his teeth unconsciously. Would Oliver ever kiss Geneva? Would he do so after proposing? At the wedding? When they copulated? It was inexorable, wasn't it? Edmund's only recourse was to give Oliver a memory worth recalling in those moments.

Trying to draw on that ineffable emotion that bound him to Oliver, that soft suffering and inimitable happiness, Edmund cupped the back of Oliver's head and kissed him.

The second minute passed.

It was a chaste kiss that deepened and turned playful. Edmund gently pulled Oliver's bottom lip between his teeth, before releasing it, smiling and kissing him again. All the while he pressed ever closer, gradually forcing Oliver back. And then, impatiently, Edmund pushed him down onto the bed.

The third minute passed, and Edmund showed no sign of stopping. Not unless Oliver asked him to.
 
Edmund's touch was the only thing Oliver had to go off of. It was the only thing grounding him without his sight, a reassuring gesture that he wasn't going to be going anywhere. He placed all his trust into Edmund, knowing that he shouldn't be nervous when all the power over him lied with Edmund. Still, however, a nervous fluttering was stirring around in his stomach, either in genuine nervousness over having a lack of control for once in his life, the tables turned for once, or due to an excitement over what Edmund could do to him. Would it be innocent, light hearted? Or something new, but all the same in intoxication?

The support from Edmund's hand grasping the back of his head was welcoming, and then the sudden press of his lips to his own was a slight surprise. It merely happened, and it drew the breath right out from his lips but did nothing to stop him from melting into the kiss and pressing right back against Edmund, savoring his taste and drinking in the feel of him.

Oliver let out a small 'oof!' when he was suddenly laying down on the bed, but made no noise or signal that he wished it to end. His head was spinning, and his hands gingerly moved forward to find Edmund, to grasp into something of his to help steel himself. His hands found their grasp upon his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin.

Oliver pulled away for a moment, catching his breath. "Whatever you do," He said, words airy. "Don't stop."
 
The way Oliver blindly reached for him, knotting his shirt, digging in, grasping, Edmund wished Oliver would show such demand and need more often. It was encouraging. And made Edmund feel wanted in a visceral, incomparable way. Would Oliver ever act like such towards anyone other? The thought made Edmund kiss him all the harder, demanding, supplicating, begging. He wanted to be the only one. He wanted to be singular and irreplaceable to Oliver. And he didn't know why it mattered so painfully much. Maybe it was because he knew it could never be.

When Oliver pulled away to urge Edmund on, he took the liberty of roughly undoing Oliver's shirt. "And if I stop?" he managed to ask, teasing. "What then?" That Oliver couldn't see his expression left Edmund's tone all the more ambiguous, coy and almost threatening. Rattlesnake and honey. "Are you really in any position to make demands?" Edmund drew a hand down Oliver's abdomen, from clavicular notch, past his navel, and playfully catching the top of Oliver's pants before dipping in low for another kiss. Soft, reassuring that any threat was hollow and in jest.

Though it was tempting to rile Oliver and keep him just out of reach of satisfaction, Edmund doubted he'd be able to follow through with that plan. Because every fiber of him wanted to keep this going. After everything that had happened, he needed it.
 
Oliver briefly wondered about the deck of cards the two of them left abandoned on the bed,
no doubt having been knocked over by one of their legs as they shifted to a different position, spread out messily without regard for the mess it'd make, completely forgetting about the game that lead them here in the first place. He then wondered where the wine was, wanting another drink of it, wanting to taste it upon Edmund's lips. He remembered the way it stained his lips before, how red they became, how damn nice it made him look. Too bad his eyesight was gone for the time being, having been willingly stolen from him. He wondered if Edmund looked hungry, desperate, wanting more from Oliver, who was none the wiser about his current expression, only having to go off the tone of his voice.

"You aren't stopping, so I consider it a victory." Oliver replied right back, feeling the quick roughness of his fingers as he undid the buttons ofhis shirt. He wanted to undo and slip off Edmund's shirt as well, make them both even, but he doubted he'd be able to get very far and be very successful without being able to see what he was doing. He attempted it anyways, hands slipping from his shoulders to the first button he felt by his neck, managing to undo it with ease. He took his time, rivaling the fast paced nature of Edmund earlier.

He gave up on the shirt after a short moment, one of his hands blindly reaching up again and landing itself on the side of Edmund's face. It moved up a bit more and then his fingers weaved into his hair, pulling him just a bit closer. If Oliver could have anything selfishly for once in his life, a time to not worry about the greater good or his image, he'd want to keep this going, to savour and drink in Edmund as much as possible right now.
 
True, It was a victory. Specifically Edmund's, and he intended to make it a conquest. He wanted Oliver to himself. Completely, absolutely, incontestably his. At least for that one moment. Because maybe that was all Edmund would ever have, a string of moments, between which were periods of undeniable, almost deleterious, jealousy. The future wasn't bleak by any means, but there were certain to be challenges which Edmund didn't know if they could overcome.

Though he made no attempt to finish what Oliver had started, Edmund was thankful to have his shirt partially unbuttoned. It was only then that he realized how warm he'd gotten. The heat of his skin now had vent, but perception of it only seemed to make him feel hotter.

"Honestly, you tempt me to strip you of more than clothing right now." He confessed, turning in to Oliver's touch only to wince. Even though there was no bruising where they met, much of the median part of Edmund's face felt connected to a nexus of pain originating from his nose. Theo had really done a number on him. Gently, Edmund took Oliver's hand from his hair, laying a trail of kisses along the wrist, palm and fingers as he did. He sat up, putting a cool distance between them. Gods above, Oliver looked so perfect, so inviting and- A curious thought crossed Edmund's mind.

"I wonder," He began aloud, still holding Oliver's one hand, while with his free one, Edmund pulled Oliver's shirt just a little farther away, revealing his side. "Are you ticklish any?" Quick as a violin's trill, he skittered the tips of his fingers from Oliver's hip to ribs, testing. That Oliver was blindfolded, perhaps made it even more cruel. Edmund knew how such a sensation could make the more sensitive writhe, mostly because he was one of them. Edmund wasn't about to let Oliver know that though.
 
Oliver was tempted to make a low whining noise as the hand threaded in Edmund's hair was pulled away and in turn, his lips did as well. He surpressed the sound, and instead relished in the brief feeling of Edmund lazily kissing his wrist and palm, his attentions now drifting elsewhere to what other things Edmund could possibly want to do. At this point, Oliver had no choice but to surrender at least most of his control to Edmund. He was still able to end it all, say he wished it to stop, say that he was uncomfortable or this wasn't enjoyable for him, but that would all be lies. He didn't wish it to end, even if those stupid 3 minutes were over.

"Hm? Strip me more of clothing?" He repeated in musing, though more of a comment to himself if anything. Edmund's next statement made him raise an eyebrow, though it more than likely was hidden by the makeshift blindfold wrapped around his head. Then, the feeling of feather light fingers on his side didn't make him laugh -- it must be disappointing for Edmund to find that he wasn't ticklish -- but instead made his back arch a little. If he wasn't ticklish, then his skin was merely sensitive.

He bit his lip to hold back any more embarrassing whimpers from the simplest of touches, hoping Edmund wouldn't notice this and make him let out every single one of his noises.
 
To discover Oliver wasn't ticklish was somewhat disappointing. Edmund would have loved to feel Oliver writhe, grab at him, and insist he desist. But his actions weren't completely fruitless. While practically on top of Oliver, it was nearly impossible not to perceive the subtle arching of his back, the way he lifted from the mattress so slightly. Edmund couldn't tell if it was an impulsive reaction, seeking further stimulation, or something like a knee-jerk in irritation. So focused on that, he didn't notice Oliver biting his lip.

"You'll tell me if you like something, no?" Edmund asked, his tone subtly smug, mocking. "Or is that the new game? Have me guess." He released Oliver's hand and moved to straddle him, keeping Oliver from squirming away if he should ever try to do so. The knife was temptingly in reach on the bedside table, sheathed, innocuous. He could press it to Oliver's skin with empty threats of 'move and it may cut you', or pick at the seams of Oliver's clothes. And there was still the bottle of wine. If Edmund dared, there were plenty of other games they could play besides cards and Hot or Cold.

But before entertaining those thoughts further, he wanted to get a feel for his new canvas, a taste really. Holding Oliver by the hips, Edmund began kissing a slow line from the base of his sternum to his naval. Occasionally, gently pinching the skin between his teeth. Nothing that would bruise, but perhaps as a teasing reminder that he could, and would eventually. The bruises on Oliver's neck could use a matching set after all.
 
Oliver didn't need his eyesight to tell he wasn't happy with his non-ticklish nature. He was glad, to some degree, that he was spared the torture of a forced laughing session instigated by Edmund, whom he knew would probably be ruthless if Oliver were ticklish. Either way, it seems like he'd have to find some other way to relish in the oblivious state Oliver was now placed in, still blissfully unaware of Edmund's facial expression or physical movement besides what he could feel against his own body, such as the slotting of their hips together.

"Maybe I'll have you guess, so you can discover my body all by yourself. It's more fun that way, no?" He replied with a small smile, playful. Edmund stilled in his movement, and Oliver could guess that he was thinking of his next move, so to speak. How else he'd explore Oliver's available body, free to roam and do with as he pleased, but still well within reason.

Much like almost everything else Edmund had done to him so far, there was not really a verbal warning. Edmund just up and did it. The sudden feel of his lips upon his sternum almost made Oliver jump in surprise, but he managed to stay still. "Looking to make a collection of bruises everywhere on my body, now?" He pondered, not particularly speaking to Edmund.
 
Perhaps it was morbid, but bruises were Edmund's only means of claiming Oliver as his. He'd never be able to take a king's hand in marriage. There'd be no matching wedding bands. Even if Edmund had the chance, he could never afford one worthy of Oliver. And he could never openly declare Oliver was his. Even simple displays of affection had to be kept behind closed doors, like a stigma, an embarrassment, or a skeleton in the closet. Perhaps, then, it was a good thing that Edmund enjoyed giving, and receiving, a kiss with teeth.

Wondering just how much permission Oliver was granting with his noncommittal statement, Edmund eschewed any quip or retort in favor of playfully testing the boundaries. The boundaries of Oliver's clothes, specifically. Placing one last kiss below Oliver's naval, he moved to do similar along Oliver's hip. Edmund began at the crest and followed the line of it that lead towards the inner thigh. As he reached the waist of Oliver's pants, he pulled at them and kissed what modicum of skin it revealed. He would have to undo them to access any more, and was tempted to, resting his hand over their closure.

Though was it even fair of Edmund to ask for more when he had only removed his jacket? Did it matter when Oliver couldn't see? This had already gone further than Edmund had expected it to. But, even knowing that it could tempt something darker, something more, he didn't want to call it off.

"Just how much of you are you ready for me to discover?" He asked, tone ambiguously neutral.
 
Within a short span of time Oliver was once again accustom to the feel of Edmund firmly against him, his teeth nipping but not fully biting and his lips pressing against his skin. His hands wanted to grip at Edmund once more, but he had lost his spatial awareness. He knew for sure where his hips and legs lied, straddling his own, caging him in one place, with no means of escaping. It wasn't like he wished to, anyways. This could be the last time the two of them would be so intimate, close, private and personal. Better to savor every moment like this should it dissipate for whatever reason as soon as it had even materialized.

Oliver let out a small sigh the lower Edmund went. He could feel his cheeks flare with heat. Must be obvious now he was new to such intimacies and closeness to another person. He trusted Edmund, trusted him enough to let him do as he pleased, but is it what he wanted? Oliver knew he didn't hate it, knew it didn't want it to end. But just how far was he willing to have this go? He wasn't sure -- it depended on how far Edmund was willing to go.

Oliver went silent at the question. It was vague, ambiguous, and purposefully so. He chewed on his lower lip in contemplation and shifted his hips a bit, not in an effort to escape him but more as a slight nervous movement. He reminded himself that he trusted Edmund.

"...Whatever you wish. You have control now," Oliver said, his voice quiet and airy but somehow still loud in the stillness of the room. He hoped he didn't make a wrong choice, plunging himself headfirst into something he moght not want or know about. But you never know until you try, right?
 
The suggestion alone, of something potentially licentious, skin like summer heat and sticky-sweet, was stirring. That sensation wriggled in the well of his pelvis, pulling, wanting. Its wordless exhortation was cogent, but Edmund couldn't bring himself to act upon it. It didn't matter how long it had been since he'd last shared such physical intimacy with someone. Oliver hadn't said no, but the fact that his words weren't an indisputable yes, kept Edmund from proceeding.

In fact, Oliver's words felt like a deference, almost subservient. As though to say, he had no power in the situation, unable to voice dissent. Was that what he felt when Edmund stressed their roles? Because it was fuck awful, like being dismissed entirely, snubbed even. Edmund just couldn't bare it. He enjoyed some flexible control over Oliver, enough to tease and illicit reactions, but this didn't settle with him. It felt wrong.

Edmund moved and pushed the blindfold up, caressing Oliver's cheek after doing so. "Look," he began, pun unintended. "I'm more than willing to go down on you if you like, but not in this context. Not yet." Edmund amended, swallowing dryly before trying to explain. "We can play this game to the fullest when we're more acquainted with each other. But, before that, if anything's to be discovered, it should be together, mutually." He smiled, chuckling to himself. "Without disadvantageous sensory deprivation, no matter how well you wear it." And almost in apology, he added, gesturing to the blindfold "I guess I didn't think of how far this might go."
 
Oliver was surprised to feel... glad that Edmund had stopped it before it got any further. It confirmed the fact that he wasn't ready for it, that it'd be better if both of them took more time to ease into it. It felt reassuring to know that Edmund could sense something off about the situation, how imbalanced the siutation was. He could have completely taking control, using Oliver's tenative submission, taking complete advantage over him. It wouldn't have ended well, he realized, if they had gone through with it. Not for what they wished to be their relationship.

The room was much brighter than he recalled it being when the blindfold was pushed up and away from his eyes, his eyesight gradually adjusting to the sudden brightness that flood his vision. "It does feel nice to be able to see you again," Oliver replied with a small smile, placing his hand over Edmund's, the one that rested upon his cheek soothingly. "Though I do agree. We should be mutually discovering, and that things went a direction I didn't think it would," He continued, propping himself up on his forearms, no longer fully laying upon his back.
 
Nice to be able to see you again.

"Now there's a sentiment few have said to me." Edmund commented with a wry quirk of his lips. His uncongenial nature aside, he wasn't exactly the pinnacle of pulchritude or any swain worth swooning for. That there was anyone who took pleasure in his presence was still somewhat new to him. Mindset, much like habit, was hard to alter. With a flutter of hesitation, he kissed Oliver once more, apologetic and reassuring. Edmund then moved off of Oliver, allowing him to sit up fully if he so chose to.

"Care for a drink?" he asked, taking the wine from the bedside table. "It'd be criminal to let it go to waste." There was still an unrelenting tendril of desire in Edmund that he hoped alcohol could loosen, if not alleviate. He took a liberal drink from the bottle and offered it to Oliver. The moment they had just shared brought a question to the forefront of Edmund's mind, one he didn't know how to phrase tactfully. Maybe a touch of inebriation would make it easier.
 
"You'll be hearing it a lot from me, then." He replied, after the kiss had its conclusions. He brushed a few strands of hair away from Edmund's face, ginger and careful not to put pressure on the clearly bruised and tender areas still sore from earlier. After Edmund withdrew he sat up fully, crossing his legs under himself.

He took the wine bottle from Edmund, gladly. He did ask for it to be swiped for a reason. Amazing how it was left neglected for quite some time during the whole blindfold endeavor. Oliver took a slow swig of the drink, glad to have another thing curbing his sea sickness.

"Should we get back to that card game, or should we call it quits?" He asked, not really perferring either decision.
 
Watching Oliver swallow, the subtle movements of his throat were distracting and stirred a lukewarm regret in Edmund. He hadn't taken the opportunity to kiss there while Oliver was beneath him, blindfolded, accepting and anticipating. Edmund tried to tell himself there would be another time, maybe soon. But his tongue still felt heavy, wanting. Another time, another time. There was something which he still needed to know.

"I say we break from cards for now." Edmund suggested. "Lest we take a victory too far again, no?" He reclined on the bed casually, still watching Oliver and the shadow of wine in the bottle. An idea came to mind. "How about a different game?" He offered. "I'll tell you something I've done and, if you haven't done it as well, then you drink. How's that sound?"

What better way to get information than to give some in turn?
 
Oliver was glad to end the card game short. If they played anymore, paired with the alcohol, he'd probably just start a loosing streak with how piss poor his ability to add and subtract would become. He didn't spare the cards another look. He looked down at the wine bottle in his hands, resting in his lap.

"Sounds like a better game," He replied. It would be easier too, especially once the two of them began to feel the effects of the alcohol in them after a while. An interesting way for the two of them to get to know each other better. However, Oliver distantly wondered if it'd end up with both of them equally drunk due to the vast differences in their lives. The poor and the rich didn't have the same experiences in youth, adolescence and beyond, did they?

"How about I start?" He offered, fingers tapping along the glass neck of the wine bottle. He thought of something simple, something he did often. "Ever gone horse riding?"
 
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