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It took convincing. It always did. Ed was a driven man; it was admirable, if not a little infuriating. He was ready to shut himself in and work till his back ached with the slightest movements, and his fingers lost their precision and became clumsy and useless. But your fleeting touches that seared him through the thin cotton of his t-shirt or how your scent lingered each time you walked past him was enough to make him reconsider pulling another long night at his desk.
The room is dim, illumed only by a small lamp on a disorderly bedside table. It makes shadows dance between you two, makes you feel minuscule within the already tiny bedroom. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, love how it makes you feel as if it were only him and you within this wretched world.
He’s tired; you can see it when he sinks into his lumpy mattress. His green eyes are heavy, and the beginning of bags is forming. His thick clear glasses were lost to the cluttered bedside table, the lack of the accessory truly punctuating how tired he seemed. Nevertheless, he doesn’t protest you as you force your way under his arm, moving as you please till you’re plastered to his side and resting your head on the pillow beside him.
Ed wants this as bad as you do. Even if his body was spent before the two of you had even begun.
Ed’s breath is shallow. It comes in quick bursts. His chest rising and falling with each downstroke, the arm around your waist tightening barely. You squeeze the base of his cock, clicking your tongue as his hips rise in an attempt to gain more. He looks feverish, skin slick with sweat and cheeks rosy. So pliant and crazed, ready to bend to your every will if it meant chasing the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock.
Your hand leaves his cock, hovering just over the heated flesh as you watch the way it twitches. Your lips quirk. Ed’s lips part as if to complain but close almost immediately as your hands glide along his sides, forcing his shirt to bunch up around his chest. Nails gently scratch his skin, red marks forming for a moment before they fade again.
“You do so much for this city, baby. Let me take care of you.” You murmur, looking at him with eyes that drip with softness. He turns his head to meet your gaze with lidded eyes; he meets you halfway as you lean over to press your lips to his. He tastes like stale coffee, the lingerings of some sweet hard candy still flavouring his breath. He kisses you slowly, willing to take whatever you dolled out to him. Keen to indulge in the softness that you drown him in. You drawback, resting your forehead against his. “You’re such a good boy.”
His breath hitches, hips bucking. At one point, there would have been a cruel sense of shame that would slug through his veins at the reaction, ashamed of the budding sexuality you coaxed out. It wasn’t like that anymore. You didn’t laugh at him; you never did, nor did you curl your nose up and sneer. You weren’t like the rest of them; your intentions weren’t laden with greed and corruption. You wanted to see him feel good for the sake of it. There was nothing to gain from it. Your love for him was unconditional, making his head swim with ecstasy.
Fingers skate along his abdomen, moving down to grasp his length again. Your movements are slow but steady, stroking the velvety flesh in practiced movements. The hand not curled into your side, clutching the material of your shirt moves, dances along your body, clumsy fingers fingering the button to your jeans. “Stop,” He does but looks at you with a dazed puzzlement. You smile softly. “I just want to make you feel good.”
Ed groans low in his throat, head sinking back against the pillow. His hips move in an unhurried, steady rhythm, meeting the side of your first on each downstroke. “Too good to me.”
“You deserve nothing less.” You murmur, kissing his cheek. Then, you begin to move faster, watching how his body twitches and the way he bites his lip to hold the noises in. “ Hey , none of that. Wanna hear you.”
His lip is released with a faint noise, a cross between an airy moan and a guttural whimper. It’s music to your ears. It makes warmth flutter in your chest, slowly oozing throughout your body like molasses. The pad of your thumb grazes the leaking head of his cock, besmearing precum till it trickles down the sides. You watch the way the muscles of his abdomen ripple as he tenses, how his legs flex and unflex as his orgasm approaches. It only prompts you to slow the movement of your hand, reaching a torturous crawl.
“Fuck, please. Please. Please. Please.” You’re not sure what he’s pleading for. Not sure he knows either. But he sounds so pretty with the word on his tongue. And he looks so pretty like this, completely undone and putty in your hands. It gives you a rush of power that you’re grateful for. It’s not taken for granted. You kiss his temple, strands of sweat-slicked hair plastered to the skin and tickling your lips. “Please, don’t stop. I’ll be good, please.”
You want to laugh, but you don’t. You don’t wish for the tendrils of self-doubt to grasp Ed. You don’t want to ruin this for him. It wasn’t the time or place to switch to something meaner, not when he was melting into the bed from the sweet words you whispered to him. Another time you would be cruel till his toes curled and tears filled his eyes. Tonight you wanted him to drown in saccharine. “Will you?”
“Yes.” He breaths, eyelids fluttering for a moment before he turns to look at you. He leans in of his own volition kisses you sweetly with the barest hint of desperation. “I’ll be good.”
“Then you can wait.” You murmur, catching his lower lip between your teeth. You bite gently, tugging at the flesh gently. “You can wait for me, can’t you?”
It’s not a question, but he nods all the same. His adam apple bobs as he swallows, lips still against yours as though he’s paralyzed, entranced by the warmth you radiate. Then, when your hand moves again, resuming that steady pace, you can feel how his breath catches and feel a groan’s reverberation through his body.
Ed’s body is electric, all frayed wires discharging into open space. Each motion on your end has him writhing, vehemently defying the urge to spill over your fist. “Close, close, m’so close.”
You kiss his softly, lips moving together for only a moment before he stills once more as you squeeze him harder, move your wrist faster. The whine he lets out is worth it; the way he tries not to fuck himself rabidly into your wrist makes your heart sing.
“Stop, stop, ‘m gunna cum.” He’s pleading, voice high and breathy, and the words are slurred.
“Then cum. You’ve been so good for me.” And he does, the moment you give him permission, his body is going rigid, back arching off the bed. His pleasure is nearly palpable, waves rolling off his body and warming the space between the two of you. You can feel the fire in his veins through the fluttering of his pulse and the choked noises he lets out as warm cum spurts and covers your fist and his belly. Ed looks divine.
He goes boneless after that. Sinking back into the bed with limbs as heavy as lead. You wiggle your way out from under his arm, and he watches you through a cracked eye. Watching how you lick the cum from your hand with a quirked lip.
“Always taste so good for me, Ed.” You smile at him, and he hums softly, eyes fluttering shut. The tell-tale signs of sleep began to crash over his body. You move down the length of his body, face hovering over his stomach for a moment before your tongue drags along the salty skin, laving up the cum. His eyes shoot open, abdomen tightening at the feeling.
He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a soft noise as he watches you clean him up with the flat of your tongue. He doesn’t even oppose as you drag our tongue along his softening cock, but the wrecked whimper he lets out speaks for him. An unspoken objection. You had half a mind to keep going till tears pool in those big green eyes, and he has to fight against himself to not push you away. Though in your heart, you know that he wouldn’t. Edward would lie there and take it, gritting his teeth through the blissful pain. But you stop, moving back to sit on your heels and stare down at him.
Carefully, he tucks himself away, pulling his briefs back up from around his thighs. It’s a struggle as he battles the sluggishness settled in his bones due to the blissful aftermath of an orgasm and the exhaustion he’s worked himself into. Even as he flops back into the bed, you can see him grasping at threads to keep himself awake. This time, you do laugh at him. The soft and sweet noise was met with a grumble.
“Love you, Ed.” You murmur, turning off the lamp before curling into his side.
His arm tightens around you, head-turning so he can nose your soft hair. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent and allowing it to fill his senses. “Love you too.”