Vacillation (1x1 Mamoru and Avery)

An area worked long enough by Oliver's nipping would produce bruising. Bishop's lace in blood pointillism. Edmund would have cherished each as he did any of Oliver's affections, but, though he wanted them, such wasn't the means he wanted to earn them by. Jarring, acute pain assuaged with a kiss, something to make him flinch and then sigh, oscillating pain and pleasure. He wanted Oliver to bite. But that diffident, timid look in his eyes...

Edmund was about to dismiss the idea all together and suggest they sleep when suddenly his abdomen quivered, hips jerking subtly beneath Oliver's weight. Edmund instantly grabbed his hands, stopping them from their delicate caress along his side and hip.

That tickled.

Funny how the opposites of feather-touch and soft violence could both make him writhe. Edmund hoped Oliver interpreted his actions as something else. Insistence, impatience, a tacit plea to stay. Anything but the truth that Edmund was ticklish. Almost apologetically, he released Oliver's hands.

"Even if you managed to get me bleeding, we wouldn't need to treat a bite." Edmund assured in placation, before joking. "It may be difficult to explain what happened to the sheets though." He rubbed Oliver's shoulder, comforting. It wasn't his intent to make Oliver uneasy. A bruise was more superficial and transient than a scar, and Edmund had left some on Oliver before, so it didn't feel like too much of a request when he'd asked. Though maybe it was. Maybe it was something better left to learn in the heat of passion than during these slow, teasing affections.

"You give me plenty without pain, Oliver." Edmund assured, propping himself up on an elbow. "You know that, right?"
 
Edmund's response to the flittering caress of his fingers was surprising. At first he thought he jerked in surprise, the feel of his fingers unexpected, but that wouldn't really make sense. Oliver almost always touched him in some way, idly, with light fingers dragging along skin. He didn't give it much more thought after that, as Edmund's voice filled the silence quickly.

His words of jest and of reassurance were welcome. Edmund was trying to make him feel better in a stint of doubt. But it didn't really cause him to rest his doubts in his abilities and have confidence in himself. His fingers, wishing to pick at something, resorted to pulling on a loose thred Oliver saw.

"It seems more like you provide me all the pleasure, all my wants, and when I am given the chance to do the same, I am unable. Can't scar you because I don't wish to hurt you. Can't bite you for the same reason. I can only give you jewels and rings and necklaces plated in gold and sparkling with jewels, but you'd be seen as a thief." Oliver closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed softly. He then lifted his head up to look at him.

"Replacements for your true desires won't help your wants,"
 
"I wouldn't go so far as to call them true desires, but-" Kinks. That would have been the blunt way of saying it. Preference of physical affections, would have been more euphemistic, but Edmund favored neither phrasing, and chose to elaborate no further. The statement hung without end. If there were any true desires he held, they were to have Oliver to himself and make Oliver happy. The latter of which was slipping from Edmund as the matter at hand seemed to be making Oliver despondent. He tried to fix that, sitting up fully to pull Oliver into an embrace.

"I am a thief, so it wouldn't be an entirely false accusation." Edmund spoke softly in jest. "And what material satisfaction you can give me, such as the private quarters, is something I can never afford to give you in return. Sometimes I feel so inadequate knowing that I could never provide for you, and that what work I do in your service can be done by anyone." He held Oliver tighter, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

"You've already done so much to accommodate for me and our relationship." The promotion, the room, the marriage. So much risked and sacrificed for Edmund. He kissed Oliver's neck in gratitude. "You needn't stress yourself to do anything further for my pleasure." Edmund pulled away to meet Oliver's eyes.

"If you must though, perhaps we can save it until morning." He smiled, tired teasing. "Maybe then I can rile you enough to bite."
 
The lack of completion to his statement left Oliver wondering what could've filled in the blanks. Preferences? Needs? Kinks? He didn't let himself dwell too long on it, but it did make him interested to some degree. What stopped him from continuing on? Would it really be that bad to say? The embrace was all it took to bring Oliver back to earth and out of his short stupor, immediately relaxing into his touch, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes once more. He was growing tired.

"You give me love and affection I've never had before. You know what makes me happy, what makes me smile, and what makes my back arch in pleasure," A long breath escaped his lips, blowing out onto his skin. "Your servant duties can be done by anyone. Your love and affections for me can't be replicated by another," He continued, his arms lazily encircling around Edmund's waist, and resting behind him.

"The materialistic shit means nothing compared to your physical wants," He mumbled, though he sagged against Edmund in defeat, too boneless to wish to continue on and complain or whatever it was he was doing now. Shouldn't he be happy? His life was perfect as a king, and yet he was being a whiny baby over not being able to bite his lover.

"Maybe I can rile you to blow me off in the morning," He retorted, eyes opening to look at him, voice playful, a strong contrast to his previous statement.
 
"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 curbed much of his quips as it was. And he could think little beyond Oliver's complimenting words.

Inimitable affections, ones Edmund alone was capable of giving. Oliver even called it love. Did he believe Edmund loved him? Did Oliver reciprocate that assumed feeling? Or had the word been so ubiquitous that night with the topic of engagement on everyone's tongues that Oliver had let it slip unconsciously? Edmund's affections may have been special to Oliver, and that alone meant the world to hear, but was what they shared love? He wanted to ask, but feared the answer. Even in the event that it was positive, it may not have been genuine in their sleep-drunk state. So he refrained.

"In the morning then, a bite for a blow. How's that sound?" Edmund wormed his hand between them and began unbuttoning Oliver's shirt, matching the playful tone with a smile. "A little reward as incentive never hurt, yeah?" Or so he hoped. There was possibility that Oliver could arouse him to an uncomfortable degree and make things awkward between them, tempting boundaries they hadn't yet crossed. But it was a risk worth taking.

"But sleep first."
 
Oliver couldn't really argue with Edmund's statement. When born of lower class, anything of great value was more than just another piece of jewelery or the many rooms in a castle. It was sometimes worth more than the person themself. But even so, Oliver found greater value in affections, in actions, in early morning kisses and late night heat. All the jewels in the world compared little to how he felt merely looking at Edmund from across the room.

Love, Oliver surmised -- no, knew -- it was what he felt for Edmund. Though it was peculiar. He didn't know if it was safe now to say it, if it was too bold of statement currently. But it was what he felt and what he saw when with Edmund. Perhaps it would be best to stay silent on the matter for now, to bring it up later and say it at a better time.

Oliver helped with the buttons, starting from the bottom and eventually meeting Edmund's hands in the middle of the row of buttons, completely undone. He took his hands in his own. "Sounds perfect." He kissed the back of one hand. "Help me get undressed first, and then straight to sleep we go." He leaned forward and kissed Edmund, slow and lazy.
 
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 skill or purpose beyond simple intimacy. Edmund pulled Oliver against him. Skin to skin. God had he missed it. Their time on the boat felt so long ago and the fleeting encounter in the study hadn't allowed for such contact.

Edmund sighed contentedly. And though reluctant to part, he did, monetarily lifting Oliver from the bed to do so. He could embrace him again beneath the sheets soon enough. "Tuck yourself in, won't you? I'll be with you in a second after I snuff the candles." It was cold without Oliver's touch. The night sent shivers along Edmund's spine as he tossed his shirt alongside his coat and began dimming the room. Each candle extinguished like a toll at midnight, the darkness tick-tock-tucking in around them until light was but a memory. The room was pitch black, the dark so thick it was palpable, near claustrophobic. Edmund made his way back to the bedside to strip his pants and slip beneath the covers.

Without light, the bed felt wide as and ocean. He reached his hand out blindly to find Oliver. "Your curtains are thick enough that I wonder if we'll know when morning comes." Edmund commented in jest. As comfortable as Oliver's embrace and bedding were, he truly hoped he wouldn't sleep through the valuable early hours.
 
It felt wonderful to be stripped of his clothing. Within just a minute or two, his shirt was stripped off and so was his pants, leaving him nearly almost completely bare. The cool air left goose bumps along his skin but was a welcomed feeling. Soon enough, Oliver knew he had to spend at least one night sleeping in the same bed as Geneva, an unfamiliar body and an unfamiliar warmth. He will have to sleep alone, without the warm embrace from Edmund. Perhaps it would happen only one night. Geneva was in the same boat. She didn't wish to sleep or be with another other than Theo.

"Awh, you can't tuck me in?" He said playfully, a small laugh leaving his lips. He slipped under the covers anyways, settling in and making himself comfortable. He pulled back a few of the blankets to make room for Edmund to climb in himself. The sound of Edmund's clothes being unbuttoned and unbuckled was the only sound for a while, the rub of fabric and the gathering of it in piles on the floor louder than normal.

Oliver found Edmund's touch and he scooted towards him, instantly curling up against his body, comfortable. "You could've opened it just a crack before you came into bed," He kissed Edmund's shoulder. "Too late for that though." He sighed softly, eyes closing as the warmth from Edmund washed over him. Under the covers and in Edmund's embrace, sleep came easily.
 
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, reprehensible behavior could divide them, even hurt Oliver, but such was never Edmund's conscious intent. Not anymore, not after what had grown between them.

Edmund wrapped an arm around Oliver in both affection and tacit apology for all his faults. He was exhausted, but wanted to savor that moment. For as long as he could, Edmund warded sleep just to feel Oliver against him, memorizing the rise and fall of his breathing. But such indulgence was short. Reality and fiction began to blend, and soon Edmund drifted into a shallow sleep.

Expectation of morning kept him from dreams. Subconscious awareness, dormancy, waiting. It felt like Edmund had only just closed his eyes when he woke to see the grayish light of dawn peeking 'round the curtains' edge. He could have slept longer, should have, but refrained. It could wait. His joints ached from moving little in bed and his muscles were still sore from yesterday. But Oliver was there, blissfully asleep, more felt than seen. Edmund pulled him close. So vulnerable and docile in unconsciousness. Edmund didn't dare wake him, and instead allowed his hand to roam the expanse of Oliver's back. With a cartographer's touch, he mapped every dip and crest of anatomy. Muscle and bone, human topography blindly charted beneath a gentle touch. Edmund could wait awhile more, contented in such simple contact.
 
It felt like his rest didn't last long enough. His body was sore, his mind exhausted, and over all, sleep was more than welcome. The moment his eyes closed and the warmth of Edmund enveloped him like a thick blanket, he was out like a light. Though it also felt like he woke up just as quick. From a small sliver of curtain left slightly opened, a stripe of morning light filtered through and dangerously close to his eye. If he shifted, its light would land directly on his eye. He made a small noise, a whine, not wanting to be awake.

He then felt a light dragging of fingers along his bare back, a touch that felt like a sea ship cruising along the waves to chart the seas and unknown lands upon a map. The feeling dragging him farther and farther from a groggy, tired state and to a more awake feeling. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to clear his vision. Oliver looked up at Edmund, whose eyes were half lidded and watching him. He didn't even attempt holding back the smile that immediately formed on his face.

"Good morning," He said, voice low and slightly hoarse. He reached up and brushed some strands of hair from his face, strands landing over his eyes and forehead. "What comes first: bite or blow?"
 
"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 on their side, always pressing since they had to accommodate for their continued dissemblance. Oliver would have to show for breakfast, and even before that, Edmund would have to help clear what remained of last night's event. Tempting as it was, they couldn't stay in bed forever.

And Oliver looked so perfect too. He wore sleep well, far better than Edmund did. His hair was likely a mess of cowlicks, his eyes heavy, and jaw covered in stubble. Far from presentable, a real mess. That Oliver was interested in receiving any affections from him in such a state was endearing.

Edmund rolled onto his back and stretched. His anatomy popped with relief. "Well," The word was drawn out as he thought, combing a hand through his hair in the process. "I've blown you at least once, and you've never bruised me, making the record 1-0. So I'd say, you bite me first. Even the score before I go down on you again. But before all that-" He rolled back to face Oliver. "A good-morning kiss would be nice."
 
Oliver was never free from a teasing from the ever so playful Edmund, not even in the early, quiet and sleepy mornings they shared. His first words were ones drenched in jest. Nothing unsurprising or new, however, but rather something comforting to note as a constant in their lives together. "Oh, so you want to discuss our dreams and interpret them together?" Oliver teased back, sitting upright with the support coming from his forearms. "Let me just ignore my raging hard-on and we can talk about how my dreams consisted of cream puffs and an evening stroll in the grass. I think it means I'm hungry," Oliver continued his joke, letting out a laugh towards the end of his words.

It was mornings like this, practically every morning with Edmund, really, that he hoped would never go away. That their relationship would stay strong and healthy, despite the façade of romance between he and Geneva. He couldn't predict the future, as much as he wished he could, so he only hoped things would stay like this. Quiet early mornings with playful quips and soft kisses and the outside world forgotten until it came knocking at the door.

Oliver didn't resist the urge to let his eyes wander as Edmund stretched out, his muscles contracting along with his movement and creating a very, very appealing view. The faint mark of the pathetic bite from last night was still on his skin, as well as a few other marks he had left along his collarbone. When he spoke, his eyes flicked back up to his eyes and face. "A good morning kiss and a bite? Damn, are you greedy." He didn't hesitate to kiss him, however, leaning over and kissing him sweetly.
 
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. Edmund could drink himself intoxicated on Oliver's love and never satisfy. He'd always want him, more and more. With growing fervor, Edmund cupped the back of Oliver's head and reciprocated the kiss before they parted.

"Keep talking morning wood and food in the same breath and I'll forget just what I'm hungry for." He teased. Though, in fact, he was somewhat hungry. The staff had rotations set up to break for their own meal during last night's events, but what food they had time to eat was little more than rations. Some stole leftovers from their betters' plates. Others simply went without, their appetites quenched by stress alone. Thought of Oliver with Geneva stole much of Edmund's. He couldn't even recall what he'd eaten, though was certain he did. Regardless, even if his stomach made vociferous demand, he wasn't leaving the bed until absolutely necessary. Or at least until Oliver tested teeth against his skin again.

"Can one reprove a man's cupidity when he's thrall to cupid's charm? ... Though I think that word has more to do with money than lust now." Edmund thought tangentially. He momentarily furrowed his brows in thought and then shrugged them, careless resignation. "It's too early for word play anyway. I'm sure you can think of better uses for my sharp tongue, no?"
 
As Edmund spoke in reply, Oliver busied himself with slow, lazy and pretty sloppy kisses down along his jaw and neck, gradually moving on to nip and lightly bite on his skin, knowing Edmund could take it. He felt better this morning, less hesitent to hurt Edmund with the dawn of a new day. He hummed against his skin occasionally, a sound of acknowledgement that he was still listening to his words. Eventually, his body ended up on top of Edmund's for ease of access, his legs straddling Edmund's hips.

"There's many things one can eat, either literally or metaphorically," He said in jest. He sat up a little bit, and saw a trail of light red marks, ones that will fade within a few hours. He shifted himself down a bit lower to reach Edmund's upper body and the area near his collarbone. He was particularly interested in marking up that area. Easily hidden with his shirt buttoned up all the way, but could just as easily be seen if his shirt was not buttoned up all the way. He leaned back down, below his collarbone, and got a bit bolder with how hard he bit down, also lightly sucking on the skin with the intent to bruise. He wasn't sure how he became so bold in just a few hours. Perhaps it was the promise of something for him later on.

"Your wonderful tongue has demonstrated a few uses already. Yesterday in the study was one; every time you kiss me is another." He replied, almost speaking against his skin, breath fanning out along the expanses of now lightly bruised skin. "Do you have a preference of slow and building, or immediate satisfaction? I'd prefer to mark the shit out of you first,"
 
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. Every kiss, nip, and wet caress of Oliver's tongue burned the residual sleep from his body like sun to morning fog. Gradually, Edmund warmed to affection, answering each with subtle undulation or sigh.

As Oliver moved atop him, sinking lower to stake claim of his clavicle, Edmund's hands made to encourage him. They caressed the nape of Oliver's neck, kneaded his shoulders and swept across his back. The covers bunched and slid lower. Edmund shivered with the exposure, but made no attempt to alleviate it. The subtle morning chill only served to contrast the heat of Oliver's mouth, heightening the sensation.

"If you're intimating sexual cannibalism, then by all means. I could die happily in the vise of your teeth." Edmund joked, his laugh escaping as a sharp breath of pleasure. "And it's good to know my tongue has better use these days than licking boots, aye?" In the haze of mounting pleasure, it was difficult to choose how Oliver should best go about it, but after a moment's thought, Edmund decided. "Take it slow. Make it last." he asked. It was likely invitation to an arousal he couldn't control, but god, did he want it. The attention, the affection, the bruising, and at least one solid bite that made his breath catch and his hands clutch.
 
"Oh my god, stop talking. Your stupid musings are so close to ruining the mood," Oliver complained, though a bright smile was on his features and a light laugh mingled in with his words. His hands rested with a loose grip on Edmund's hip, mostly because he had no where else to place them and he'd be damned if he lied and said he didn't love Edmund's hips. He couldn't necessarily describe why -- they just appealed to him heavily, an aesthetic he was in love with. Perhaps it was because they looked almost sculpted into smooth marble, defined and standing out from the rest of his skin.

He took care not to get too distracted with his thoughts, keeping focused on not faltering with the gradual crescendo of intensity of his bites and sucks along his skin. The marks he left gradually grew darker, moved lower, and the hear between them was building just as steadily. His thumbs glided along the raised parts of Edmund's hips, briefly having the idea to maybe mark those up as well later, since he loved them so damn much.

"As you please, Your Majesty," He mumbled into his skin, his words a mixture of playful jest and of seriousness. He saw Edmund as his King, the one person he would step down and bow to, the one he allowed to take command over him. He let no other take that power over him besides Edmund, and he'd have it no other way.
 
"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 feel special. Like it was a privilege to hear Oliver talk below his station. He wondered how Oliver would feel upon hearing Edmund's natural, lowborn, scurrilous tongue with all its solecisms and broken cadence. His thoughts didn't stray very far though, quickly reeled in by Oliver's attentive mouth.

As the marks blushed and bruised deeper, the sensation penetrated deeper too. Both pain and pleasure gradually built in intensity. His nerves were hot with stimulation. His spine prickled with sweat. And his blood was on fire, pulsing, pumping, surging in confluence to pool in the well of his pelvis. He was on the edge of lust and the drag of Oliver's thumbs along the plunge of his hip was almost enough to precipitate uncontrollable arousal.

Edmund released a shuddering breath and slid his hands to hold Oliver's. "I think you can stop now." he said airily. Any more and he was going to get hard. And Edmund didn't know if Oliver was ready to cross that boundary, let alone if he was confident enough to address it. "I think you've made some rather lasting marks, yeah?"
 
Oliver let out a low wine at Edmund's statement, not even having gotten to the actual bite part that was a big deal last night. Though, he relented, not wanting to do something against Edmund's will. Plus, he was proud enough with what he'd done -- it was clear that he got under Edmund's skin enough to ignite a spark that would turn into a full blown fire if he continued to fan the flames. He left a trail, or rather a bunching of fresh marks that would darken in color with time, much like the ones Oliver had not too long ago. That fact made something stir in his lower stomach, and he was itching for Edmund's touch now.

"Surprised you want me to stop," Oliver commented, pulling back from his chest. He sat upright, looking down at Edmund. The sight was beautiful. Edmund sprawled out beneath him, shirtless, hair messy, chest sprinkled with his marks. He kept staring at Edmund, trying his best to burn this image into his mind forever. He wished he could have a painter illustrate this masterpiece. "I was getting real into it."

He squeezed Edmund's hands, lightly. "That mean we get to my part of the deal?" He hummed, a smile on his face. He shifted his hips, arousal beginning to stir stronger in his lower body. The mere rememberance of what Edmund did back at the study was enough to get him hot and bothered.
 
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 self-abnegation and restraint. Lesser men would have had their way, but god. He adored Oliver too much to push it.

"I don't want you to stop." Edmund confessed. "But I don't know if you want what happens if we keep going." The chill that came between them as Oliver pulled away was sobering, and from it he regained a modicum of his composure. "I was-" Edmund exhaled slowly, calmly. "I think I was getting into it more than you." Even if they continued, Oliver eventually biting him sharply and Edmund letting himself get swept away, he supposed he could have just got himself off in the end. Oliver didn't necessarily need to tend to his arousal. But that seemed so awkward and cold, and Edmund didn't want to pressure Oliver into doing something he wasn't ready for.

Edmund chuckled darkly at such an impasse. They were so close, yet still so far from meeting in that kind of intimacy. Eventually it would need to be addressed, but that time didn't need to be now, not unless Oliver felt it was right. Edmund sat up and pulled Oliver against him, kissing his collar affectionately.

"It'd be my pleasure to uphold my end of the agreement." Edmund freed his hands to run them along Oliver's thighs. "And your pleasure too I imagine."
 
Getting into it more than he was? To Oliver, he was getting some form of enjoyment and pleasure from it. Despite his hesitations from last night, he was able to enjoy every sound and reaction he got out of Edmund as Edmund enjoyed every bite and bruise he left upon his skin. He wouldn't be so willing to do anything to Edmund if he, in some way, enjoyed it too. It's what stopped him from performing near too painful harm to Edmund -- because he wouldn't be gaining any sort of pleasure from it himself, instead only leave him with guilt at most.

"I was enjoying it just as much as you, Edmund. And even if I weren't, it was something you clearly liked." He said with a small smirk, but elaborated no further. Still, he didn't continue his previous actions, instead, shifting himself off of Edmund and then laying by his side. He kissed his temple. Perhaps it would be better if they stopped. If they gotten any further, Oliver wasn't sure if he could necessarily handle it. It was all new for him, and even if he wanted it dearly, they would have to pace themselves before Oliver goes in over his head.

"My handsome lover, Edmund, so skillful with his mouth in a plethora of ways, being a pleasure. Probably not any more than tea, but I can say it does give me some fulfillment." He teased, chuckling.
 
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