Vacillation (1x1 Mamoru and Avery)

As Oliver and the guests exchanged pleasantries and small talk, Edmund spent the majority of his time between the kitchens and the dining hall. Diner was to compose the main event and so it had to be flawless. Everything was shined twice. The glass clarion, the silver mirror-perfect. The table cloth was pressed, and then spot-creased. Fresh cuts and fish were still being brought in, straight from the sea, hot from the livestock. And no one could agree on which guest was the notable poet in question, but knew that he was allergic to shellfish and that his food would need to be prepared separately.

Such controlled chaos kept Edmund busier than he’d expected. And when dinner was finally underway, he made himself purposefully absent. He didn’t dare watch Oliver propose, couldn’t stomach even hearing it. He sat outside the root cellar, smoking, repeating their encounter in the study like a mantra. Oliver wanted him, went through hell and high water to make what they had possible, and- Edmund was expendable, easily replaced, and inferior in so many ways. Back and forth, a pendulum blade teasing the scab from a wound. Absently, he touched the necklace beneath his clothes.

Edmund didn’t return to the party until after dinner. As the night began to wind down he took to the ballroom and stalked lazily around the verges, watching Oliver. It was a game of patience then. Agonizing patience. When the crowd began to thin, Theo came to him, stopping his ambulation.

“Don’t tell me I’ve come upon you sulking.” She teased in greeting.

“Off your lead again I see.” Edmund quipped back, wishing she had the forethought to at least bring him a drink. She didn’t, of course.

“I don’t stray far, and I see neither do you.” Theo looked across the ballroom to Oliver, tacit implication. “For a pest turned pet, you’re rather taken with your master. I half expected to see you spitting maledictions and tossing drinks, but you’ve kept to yourself. How obedient.”

“You know as well as I how imperative this night is.”

“I do, but I didn’t think you felt the same.” Something soft and saccharine came into Theo’s tone, and she recalled. “You seemed despondent this morning.”

“Part of me still is.” Edmund confessed. “However, I’ve had better things to occupy my mind since then, things that give me a little hope.”

“I never pegged you for an optimist.” She smiled, it was an expression quickly effaced.

“I’m sure the only thing you’ve pegged with any success is your charge.”

“How dare-!”

Edmund shrunk from her before palliating hastily, “I mean you no umbrage, only jest.” His palms displayed in mock surrender. Seconds passed, he grinned and Theo rolled her eyes.

She sighed, visibly deflating before reproving him teasingly. “You flinched.”

“I needn’t any inculcating to catch on to your ways.”

“My ways.” Theo echoed, chuckling tiredly. “I know the necessity of tonight, so take ease. I’ll only bark at your vulgarity, not bite.”

“Save that for later tonight, no?” Edmund quipped, unable to censor himself.

Theo only appeared nettled. Much like how he expected her irascible reactions, she was now beginning to expect his ribald commentary. “I figure that’s what you’ll be doing, putting that mouth of yours to better use. Thought of such has kept you in place, hasn’t it?”

“You’re projecting.” Edmund scoffed, though internally he was taken aback by her intuition.

“You think so?” She asked, a cold and mischievous glitter in her eye. “Then I suppose the Lady won’t have to worry about interrupting anything should she go looking for the King’s company.” Edmund momentarily blanched at such a suggestion before his featured hardened with contempt. Theo quickly made to assuage it. “I’m only joking, Mr. Attaway. I intend to keep her to myself for the night. The look on your face though.” She smiled ingenuously.

Edmund didn’t see the charm in it, irritated. “You can be a terrifying nuisance when you so choose to, I hope you know that.”

“How else do you think I’ve dissuaded other suitors from the Lady’s hand?” Theo asked rhetorically. She seemed pleased with herself, still smiling as she searched the thinning crowd. “But enough chatter. He’s looking to you.”

Edmund followed her gaze, locking eyes with Oliver. His smile alone could make Edmund’s breath catch. Theo took it as her sign to leave, perhaps finding Geneva in turn. Edmund crossed the ballroom, painfully sober, borderline enervated, but internally elated all the same. It was hard not to embrace Oliver upon reaching him.

“Should I congratulate you, or have you grown tired of such sentiments?” Edmund asked in greeting, his surly irritation twisted into a cutting grin.
 
As he and Geneva seemingly danced the night away, no one came up to either of them with requests to dance, perhaps seeing the closeness he and Geneva wanted to have following the rather very sweet engagement anouncement barely half an hour earlier. Oliver was more than happy with that, as more time he could have getting to know Geneva was more time spent away from other individuals he could honestly give a less shit about.

"I know I've brought it up before, but I'm still grateful that you chose to marry me to aid with our own... relationships," Geneva said, her words a bit airy. The current waltz the two were at was a bit faster pace than what they both were used to, but they kept in time with the music.

"It was done not only for our mutual benefit and because you're possibly the most human suitor out of them all. None seemed too interested in me more than the crown hanging above my head, a sign of moving to the highest station in class,"

"I can't lie and say it's not a downside having to be queen, but I know it's not a walk in the park either. I trust you will guide me through it all more than well enough."

"Even without my help, it seems you've at least charmed my nobles here at court." Oliver noted, looking around the crowd as if to emphasize his point. "You'll fit in well here, Lady Geneva."

Before the conversation could continue, and after the smile Oliver had sent to Edmund, the man he longed for all evening showed up right at his side, pausing their waltz. The two of them slipped from each other's modest embrace in the dance. Oliver was a bit surprised that he came all the way over to him following the smile, but it was reassuring and a comforting presense nonetheless.

"I'll leave you two alone," Geneva said with a small curtsey before heading off, perhaps to meet with Theo.

"Shockingly, not too many have come up and congratulated me. I think the nobles believed we're so in love we're best left alone for the rest of the night," He replied, starting to lead the way out of the grand hall as seamlessly as he could manage. "You here to voice more teasings to me, after being such a good boy all night?"
 
Petite, delicate. Geneva was effeminate in such a poetic, almost ethereal way. A doe in spring whose innocence was only chastened by maturity, not effaced. Her softness wasn't of her flesh, but of her character. Edmund couldn't help but feel knots of animosity and possession twist in his stomach as she left them. Her charms could have ensorceled any man's heart, perhaps even Oliver's. If he dwelt on it though, Edmund surmised that maybe Geneva's assets were also her curse.

"I suppose I'm the only one rude and selfish enough to interrupt you then." he said, watching her go before looking back to Oliver and following. Eyes were on them, insect-many and curious. Edmund spoke quietly to assure a modicum of privacy as they left for places more clandestine. "You patronize, but I assure you, my model behavior is at its end once we're out of sight." It was a promise that intimated something rougher, desperate. But the party had drained Edmund to such a degree that he'd likely be unable to replicate the intensity of their encounter in the study. If anything, their night would be slow and protracted. Tired-sweet.

"Would you like to have the remaining guests dismissed, send word that you're retiring for the night, or...?" Edmund left the suggestion open, unknowing if they were leaving briefly or for the rest of the night. "I can wait in your room if you'd like, while you bring the party to it's conclusion. I'm certain the staff can manage tidying the place without me."
 
"It certainly fits your character," He commented. "And yet another promise of something mischievous reserved for later tonight. I'd be a liar if I said it wasn't something to look forward to," He kept his pace around the outskirts of the crowd casual, calm, and made it look as if he were merely talking to one of his servants about something relating to the party and not of a more personal event later on.

He stopped in his pace, and gave his question some thought. As much as he would like to simply slip off into the night to indulge in his selfish desires, he was still a king. He couldn't afford skipping town again at parties for the sake of his image to such esteemed individuals here today. "Wait in my room, I'll take care of the party's conclusion." He turned on his heel, facing the opposite direction of Edmund. "Maybe bring a bottle of wine to my room, too." He added lowly, before heading back into the crowd.

Still, were there eyes upon him as he reached the front of the room. Seeming to read his purpose right away, the music slowly died down into a soft decrescendo of silence and the couples dancing seperated, and all attention was brought to Oliver. "I would like to thank you all for your attendance to night in celebration of my engagement to the lovely Lady Geneva. I feel you all have made her feel at home, and welcome in my kingdom. And seeing as the night is coming upon us, I sadly must bring an end to the festivities. I hope you all have a safe return home in the following days and have enjoyed your stay in my castle." He gave a drawn out bow following the applause of the nobles, before making his way out, the others filtering out the grand hall along with him. He engaged in some casual conversations as he left, though managed to break apart from the crowd and head to his chambers, more than glad that it was over.
 
It was the pragmatic thing to do, postpone their meeting to tie-off the party. Such wouldn't take long, so Edmund was more than wiling to comply without cavil. Like any good servant, he did as Oliver expressed with celerity. He cut through the kitchens to the wine cellar, exchanging final orders as he went. There were still numerous dishes to be washed, clean water being pumped and carried in ceaselessly to accomplish such. But other than that, much of the mess could be left until morning.

Grabbing a bottle of dust-matted pinot grigio as he did, Edmund eschewed glasses and slunk into the passage, through the vacant study, and to Oliver's private chambers without being seen. He was almost disappointed to find the door unlocked, not needing his picks. The wine was set on the bedside table, the curtains drawn tight, and a few candles lit to keep the darkness at bay, but the shadows close. Gloom-cozy with mercurial blue-dark and soft orange light. A room cut in flickering chiaroscuro. Edmund sat at the foot of the bed, wondering.

Should he stage the room? Should he be undressed, in bed, waiting? Should he hide to catch Oliver off guard? It felt like Oliver was expecting something of him by sending him ahead, but every thought that came to Edmund's mind felt unnatural, gauche, and vapid. He scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly feeling nervous. An almost imperceptible grit of stubble scratched back. "Fuck." he sighed.

The least he could do was make himself a little comfortable. He wasn't going anywhere soon, not of his volition any way. His pockets were emptied, his vest, coat, ascot, and shoes folded and set aside. Should he strip further? It seemed awkward. What if someone noticed the light and checked in? Edmund settled on rolling his sleeves and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. The necklace winked in the candle light.

What else was he to do, but wait?
 
Now free to not worry so much about appearances or for seeing another human soul besides Edmund, he let out a deep sigh, glad to have some time to relax after such tension in the past few weeks. Things were now settling into place, and as long as he, Edmund, Geneva and Theo stay secretive, careful and undetected, then everything should work out. The only thing Oliver hoped for was that Edmund not get dangerously jealous, a feeling he knew would be inescapable but at least could be curbed with more than enough attention. And guessing from the encounter at the study, there was an easy solution to that.

He opened the door to his chamber slowly, having the noise of the door's groans alert Edmund of his presence. He closed the door securely behind him and found Edmund decently undressed and comfortable, sitting upon the neat covers of his bed. In the dim lighting, he could see his necklace, laying delicately and twinkling. Oliver smiled at the sight of it. He wasted no time in undoing the buttons of his overcoat and shedding it off as he made his way to Edmund.

"Hope you didn't wait long," He began, placing a kiss upon his forehead. "I tried ending the party as fast as I could."
 
Upon arrival, Oliver's presence seemed to swell and fill the room, chasing from it the loneliness of solitude which crept in while Edmund sat waiting. It was like a breath of life winnowing through an ossuary, stirring, waking. Edmund wanted to meet him halfway across the room, embrace him, insist on undoing Oliver's coat for him. But he didn't. Somnolence stuck tar-fast in Edmund's joints and hung about his shoulders like a millstone. His back ached. His feet hurt. And so he waited for Oliver to come to him.

Edmund received his kiss like a blessing, sighing with at the touch. "I've been waiting since we were last on the ship for this. So," He made an exaggerated display of counting the days on his fingers. "Oh, about a week or so. Not long at all." He smiled, tired but affectionate, and began tugging Oliver's shirt free.

"Am I free to stay the night with you, or do you have morning plans that it may interfere with?" Edmund was supposed to know Oliver's schedule. It was part of his duty being personal servant to the king. But will all that had been that night, Edmund could hardly remember the date, let alone what events would follow them. He prayed none, prayed that a brief reprieve had been scheduled in after the party. Because there was nothing he needed more than to sleep once more beside Oliver.
 
Oliver had no qualms with the removal of his clothing already and so soon. If anything, it would get in the way for anything and everything they were going to do, whether it be something akin to the study or simply sharing the bed together. He helped him out by beginning to unbutton his shirt, though, taking his sweet time with it.

"Oh? The wait ignores the time we spent in the study? And I thought that was progress," He playfully retorted, a grin spread wide on his face. He idly brushed a few strands of loose hair from his features, his hand then resting gently on the side of his face.

"You're in luck. I'm not busy tomorrow," He replied, glad to finally have a night without a terribly empty bed. It was weird how quickly he got used to the solid feel of Edmund by his side in bed, a warm presence always there when he fell asleep and when he woke up. "Your dark circles are begging for you to sleep with me, it seems." He commented. It was hard to miss the exhaustion etched into Edmund's features.
 
"Oh, it was progress." Edmund agreed, undoing the bottom-most button, then the second. "But different in nature from the intimacy we've shared previously." He nipped the gentle swell of skin below Oliver's naval, playful, teasing, then attenuated the sensation with a kiss. Every mark left during their stay on the ship had since healed either to completion or a faint iodine-yellow stain on the skin. Edmund was compelled to create more, but instead pressed his forehead against Oliver, pulling him closer by the pockets of his pants while doing so.

"I can assure you," Edmund confessed in jest, "There's more of me begging to sleep with you than the bruising beneath my eyes." Those had been a defining feature of his since youth. The way his brow shadowed his eyes only seemed to darken them with age. But tonight, the color there was more than superficial. Edmund was genuinely exhausted. He dared not close his eyes, couldn't trust himself not to sleep. He didn't want to let this opportunity pass, even if he was too tired to make the most of it.

The encore Edmund had alluded to back in the study was looking less and less likely. He smiled wryly in self-disappointment. That something as mundane as somnolence could turn him useless, how pathetic. "Just touch me." He implored. "I've missed it." And distantly, he hoped it would stir some energy in him to perform, but likely it would only coax him to ease and sleep.
 
The bruising from a time that feels too far ago were mostly gone, though Oliver had grown so used to their existence that he didn't particularly notice them fade away as the time passed. He was never against getting speckled messily in more and more marks, however, so should Edmund ever get the urge to do so, he would voice no refusals to it. The feeling was nice, and the time he could spend looking at the marks and thinking of Edmund was perhaps one of his more embarrassing occasional past times.

"God, you are tired," Oliver commented, though mostly to himself. At the request of touch me, how could one really deny? He pushed Edmund back against the bed, his legs on either side of Edmund's hips and he kissed him, a bit too rough at first but eased into something they were used to. Affectionate and simple. No point in starting heated when a build up is the best part.

He then kissed down his cheek, jaw, and along his neck, simple sweet kisses peppering his skin. "We don't have to do anything tonight but sleep, y'know." He brought up, eyes flicking upwards to look at Edmund.
 
Such forwardness wasn't expect. Edmund momentarily tensed at being pushed back. More often it was Oliver reciprocating, and Edmund initiating. So diffident but eager, tentative willingness that galvanized to alacrity with a kiss. The change felt sudden to Edmund's sleep-addled mind, but he didn't mind it. Not in the slightest.

He reciprocated Oliver kiss with tired longing and was left wanting more. Gods above did he want something deeper. He wanted to pull Oliver's quintessence through a kiss and swallow it to feel whole again. Their week of abstaining from affection had left Edmund feeling so deprived, so dry and wanting. What they shared in the study was too quick. Jarring and electric-hot. More physical than intimate. He wanted love, or the closest Oliver could give.

With every touch, Edmund held a little faster. A hand on Oliver's thigh, the other on his side. The grasp of Edmund's fingers flexed, coaxing. His body stirred beneath Oliver's. "I know we don't have to do anything." He softly answered, inhaling slowly. "We can save much until morning I suppose. But for a little while, just a little while," He kissed Oliver's cheek, "I'd like to pretend I was the one you proposed to this evening." And sleep felt like such a waste when their time was limited.
 
Edmund's words were surprising. Not the part about wanting to continue, that was expected and what he wanted too, but the mention of the engagement barely even an hour earlier. For quite a while, almost the entirety of the arrangement he had with Geneva, he kept both relationships seperate. What he and Edmund had was real, mutual, passionate and as dangerous as it was so damn intoxicating. He and Geneva were a business relationship, done for the benefit of each other but in no way was it by means of them sleeping together, but to keep each other's secrets. And now, with Edmund saying he wished he was in Geneva's place, it made him realize how this couldn't be two seperate relationships, at least not entirely. Edmund would always want to have the publicity he was able to share with Geneva.

"Oh? You want this to become your engagement night fantasy?" Oliver teased, accenting his words with a nip to just above his collarbone. "Maybe I should make you a ring, make it a bit more real," He mused, a soft mumbling of words into his skin. Maybe he'd inquire about it, request a ring to be made for Edmund. He'd have to lie about its purpose, but it would be better than nothing. He placed one last kiss upon the bite he left ealier and brought his face to level with Edmund's.

"Other than a ring for my darling fiancé," He said with a smile, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Any special night requests for me to perform other than 'touch me?'"
 
The idea of fantasizing an engagement night was risible to Edmund, and he chuckled, or almost did. The sound hitched in his throat as Oliver nipped above his collar. Edmund's back arched slightly from the bed, impulsive and desiring contact. Receiving wasn't in his experience. Between tired-slow cognition and a lack of expectation, much of Oliver's affections Edmund received with mild surprise. Sleep-drunk sensitive. He settled back, still smiling tiredly as Oliver kissed over the spot again.

"An engagement night fantasy." Edmund echoed with a soft laugh. "I think the only chimerical fancy I entertained was stealing you away tonight, taking us far from prying eyes and anyone that could come between us." He caressed Oliver's cheek, searching his eyes for something ineffable. "Privation doesn't suit you though." A sigh of defeat, a dead-end dream. Edmund returned his hand to Oliver's thigh.

"I needn't any ring." He assured, knowing it would only raise questions. And a sick part of him, in dark devotion, wanted to simply cut his ring finger off and offer it in gift. A symbolic gesture that he'd belong to no one ever, but Oliver. Such would probably be met with hysterics though, not flattery and appreciation. "Your necklace is a worthy substitute, but if I may implore you..." Edmund's blood quickened with wanting as a desire came to mind. His breath deepened and he began to unbutton his shirt completely. "Mark me where they can't see. Kiss me hard enough to bruise." Edmund's hand knotted in Oliver's shirt, roughly pulling him close, low and breathy with need.

"Bite me."
 
It was certainly a peculiar feeling, having all the control of the situation. He could tease Edmund more, follow his own wishes than the wants and requests from Edmund. Or he could heed every word of his, his words becoming a king's command, Edmund in control of everything Oliver did to him. For so long in their relationship he allowed Edmund to make the choices. Now it was all him.

As Edmund spoke, he absent mindedly continued to his trails along his neck, at one point kissing just behind his ear just to see what would happen. He was pulled out of his revere of listening calmly to the conversation to literally pulled out of his absent minded movements, eyes widened slightly and staring right into Edmund's. His request -- more like command, really -- didn't come as a surprise. Edmund's affinity for pain wasn't new anymore.

"I'm sad you don't want a ring. I was thinking of some beautiful but inconspicuous designs already," Oliver replied, voice calm and smooth. "But if those are requests you want, then who am I to not heed you?" He left no room for reply, pressing his lips hard and desperate to Edmund's. One of his hands glided up the now exposed and bare skin of his chest, wondering where would be nice spots for the bruises to litter his skin. He briefly wanted to make the marks on the verge of visible, but thought better of it. Quickly the kiss turned into something that left Oliver breathless and hungry for more, willing to forgo breathing to keep the passion burning. His fingers raked lightly down his chest, nails scratching down in red stripes.
 
"Who am I not to heed you?"

A king. Birthright granted Oliver absolute authority. His will was law, and he needn't genuflect or defer to anyone, much less a lowborn interloper like Edmund to whom even servitude to a royal was above his natural station in life. Edmund was born to rags and squalor, and that was what he should have lived and died in. His position on the royal staff had not been earned, not by honorable means at least. By those criteria alone, Oliver hadn't any business entertaining such demands. And Edmund would have reminded him of that if not silenced by such a bruising, soul-searing kiss.

His body shuddered in sleep's mire, straining for perception more vivid than half-consciousness provided. But Edmund's eyelids were still so terribly heavy, daring to close. Oliver's alacrity was inimitable in Edmund's state, but he reciprocated with all he could, pulling their kiss into his lungs and bloodstream. Tacitly, Edmund promised he'd make up for his shortcomings in the morning.

The sensation of Oliver's nails made him break their kiss, head dropping back to expose his neck. "Fuck, Oliver." He breathed, "Don't tease." His chest rose and fell in time. Heat emanated from his skin. His hands clutched Oliver's thighs. "Give me something I'll feel in the morning . Leave a touch that lingers long after the heat fades." Impatient, tired, needing.

Mark me yours like no one else has.
 
It felt extremely empowering to make Edmund react in such a way, or really, much at all. It felt wonderful being the one coaxed to react, to beg, to endure whatever the other had in store. With Edmund's neck tilted back, he wasted almost no time at all kissing a feverish trail down the length of it before reaching his collar bone, his first area to mark with all his hearts desire. Hearing Edmund's heated, desperate words, hearing him struggling between sleep and something rough and painful and burning onto his skin made him want to mark him up, head to toe and do much much more than just that. But the rest had to wait.

He was tempted to continue to deny Edmund's requests. Continue with hot kisses to his lips, open mouth and messy ones down his neck and more raking of his nails down his chest, his thighs, his back -- anywhere his nails could reach. It would feel so good to have Edmund get more and more impatient, to deny his most desperate wants for more, more, more. Maybe he'd tease a bit more, just for a few minutes more, just to see what would happen.

His fingers stopped at the hemline of Edmund's pants, fingers releasing their pressure and nails no longer lightly digging into burning flesh. He gave a nip to just below his collarbone, too pathetic to call a bite, before dragging his nails upwards, along the other side of his chest, pressing his nails a bit harder into his skin. He could feel the heat of his skin seeping into his fingertips. "Teasing? I don't think I'm doing such a thing," Oliver replied, voice still level and calm, a playful smirk on his features. He looked at Edmund, eyes half lidded and sly. "I think you're being to vague. Mind giving me some definitions and explicit descriptions?"

It felt so good to tease.
 
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Gently coaxing, stirring, rousing. Oliver's touch was enough to deny Edmund sleep, but not enough to satisfy the accretion of need being tempted with release. His kisses left Edmund's neck cold and longing. The drag of his nails made Edmund yearn for something sharper. Break the skin. Pierce the surface. Pinch 'til the feeling was gone. Edmund wanted to writhe and jerk in pain's bite only to melt under the relief of its absence. And though Oliver previously balked at similar requests, his teasing only pushed Edmund's desires towards more visceral masochistic sensations.

"Careful what you ask for." He warned through a calming inhale, trying to reign in the feeling before he found himself thrall to it. "You may be unable to give it." Thought of a new necklace, a choker made form the vise of Oliver's hands, came to mind. A stolen breath, a gasp of relief as it returned. He never could. Edmund nipped at Oliver's chin.

"If you find my request ambiguous, I can edify you with a demonstration." Were he not so tired, Edmund would have rolled Oliver onto his back and made good of his word, but as he was, Edmund only bruised his fingertips into Oliver's thighs. Squeeze and release, an empty threat of something primitive and rough. He matched Oliver's smile, equally mischievous as an idea came to mind. "In the morning, if I wake without bruising, I'll mark you where everyone can see and blame it on Geneva."

"You wouldn't want to besmirch her purity would you?" Or risk Theo's ire.
 
The threat was certainly not one Oliver knew would be empty. It was tempting, to some degree, to continue with touch that just wasn't quite enough for the pleasure of Edmund bruising and marking him whereever he pleased, especially in places available to the public eye that would be difficult to hide without scrutiny and questioning. However, the added bonus, if you could call it that, of claiming the marks were from Geneva -- it made the threat no longer worth it in the end. He didn't want to harm Geneva's image like that, not when virginity in women is an extremely desirable trait.

"Is the threat necessary? I was hoping you'd add a 'please' to your demands, King Edmund," Oliver huffed, speaking against his skin. His fingers stopped where the other marks had begun. He sighed softly, sad that he had to give in, despite it was his plan to do so after that point anyways. Oliver then moved himself back, giving him access to lower parts of Edmund's body. Close to his left pectoral, he gave a ginger kiss, before giving a test bite of sorts, harder in pressure to the previous nips but not enough to break skin.

He didn't want to risk going hog wild and bite too hard and end up having to escort Edmund to the infirmary and make up some ridiculous tale of how Edmund was bitten by a rat or something. His hands glided along Edmund's side, a soothing action, something mindless.
 
A king? Edmund chuckled dryly at the thought. A king implied a given right. If anything he would have been a tyrant, an usurper, a pretender to the throne.A demagogue at best. It was only at Oliver's leniency that he could show such demand and impatience. At the feel of teeth against his skin, Edmund 's breath caught and then exhaled heavily. Mild satisfaction and relief. He felt obligated to apologize though.

"Can you fault the tired and teased for stooping to threat?" he asked casually before palliating. "Despite my reputation, you know I'd genuflect to you before any god." Edmund carded his fingers through Oliver's hair, cupping the rondure of his head affectionately. Edmund would be the Severin to Oliver's Venus in furs if asked, thrall to passion and sadism alike. His threats were ever empty to Oliver. Affection had a way of attenuating them. Bark without bite. Though, speaking of bite.

"You've quite a kitten's touch." Edmund commented, unable to keep from smiling. "All nails and teeth without bite." No blood, no bruise. Just the hot pink of tease. "I'm not made of glass, you know" he assured. "You can be rough." Had they been level, Edmund would have kissed Oliver in assurance, but the best he could do in place of such was slide his hand to squeeze Oliver's shoulder.
 
Even despite impatience and constant teasing and touches that weren't quite as rough as he'd like, Edmund still praised and adored Oliver as other wordly. It was certainly touching, how highly he thought of him. He was used to being seen as superior to nearly everyone he interacted with, making the experience nothing special or out of the norm. However, Edmund specifically saying he saw Oliver as higher in importance than any god above made his heart swell and his stomach tighten. It was sweet.

"I don't want to bite too hard and have to escort you to the infirmary and make up some grand tale of a rat," Oliver replied, giving nips to the bite he just did. Perhaps his test bite was more of something to distract his nerves. He was new to this. It felt nice, yes, but he was new to this, unknowing of what Edmund liked and didn't, how hard to bite and how soft to kiss. He let out a soft breath, the hot air from him blowing out against Edmund's skin.

He looked up at Edmund, suddenly more nervous than before. He wasn't sure he could deliver what Edmund wanted. How sad, that Edmund knew instantly what buttons to press, how to get Oliver hot and bothered and writhing under his touch, and he, with simple instructions on what he wanted, couldn't even deliver. He looked away and placed the side of his face against Edmund's chest, laying down a bit awkwardly but clearly a sign of defeat.

"It's that knife shit all over again," Oliver mumbled, frowning, his fingers tracing along Edmund's skin -- the dip of his hip. "I don't think I can give you what you want. Again."
 
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