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When Edmond wakes, it’s still mostly dark. Only the faintest hint of daylight dispels the shadows. He reaches for his pocket watch, noting it’s at least another hour before he must rise. Closing his eyes, he burrows deeper under the blankets, exhaling softly.
Sleep doesn’t come, perhaps because he turned in so early last night. In fact, he feels quite well-rested, and he could begin his morning routine. But he’s reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed. He turns over so he’s half-hugging his pillow.
Fragments of a dream return to him, and his face warms at the blurred memories. It’s been some time since he suffered the after effects of such nighttime mental wanderings. For a while after meeting the successor to the Grand Sorcerer, they plagued him with infuriating regularity, but that has faded with time.
Until now. His essence is still unsettled, making him hot and leaving an uncomfortable hum of arousal beneath his skin. He sighs heavily and attempts to ignore it. He’s no stranger to avoiding such an embarrassing state, after all, and he’s plenty robust enough to deal with something so insignificant.
It’s no use. The longer he lies there, the more noticeable it becomes. He shifts slightly, causing his lower body to press against the pillow half underneath him. The friction sends a bolt of need straight to his rapidly stiffening member, and he inhales sharply, shame making his cheeks burn. Shaking, he tries to calm himself down. A frustrated tear slips out of the corner of his eye.
Angrily, Edmond wipes his face. He’s a grown adult, for Klein’s sake, and he shouldn’t be so humiliated by it. He presses his forehead into his other pillow. With his eyes squeezed shut, an image of a certain scoundrel appears in his mind. But instead of his usual teasing, he looks the way he does when he can tell Edmond is genuinely wary.
He lets the vision comfort him. Eiden may be a complete degenerate and a fraud, but…No, Edmond tells himself. He is none of those things. He may love the way Edmond scolds him for his naughtiness, but in the end, he’s shown himself to be someone who can be trusted even with something so private.
If he’s taught Edmond anything, it’s that he has no need of being ashamed for his desire. He’s heard Father Olivine say it too, that there is nothing wrong with as ordinary a condition as being turned on by one’s lover.
So Edmond allows himself to indulge. Keeping his eyes closed, he hugs his pillow tighter and imagines the feel of the planes and curves of Eiden’s body. His smooth chest. His narrow waist. The softness of his skin after a bath. The way his essence wraps itself around Edmond’s. His full, thick—
Edmond’s breathing speeds up. Normally, he can barely think the uncouth word, but here he is, his lips tingling with the desire to whisper his cock into the fabric of his pillow. He rocks his hips in hopes of easing the unbearable need between his legs.
It isn’t nearly enough. Edmond rolls over so he’s straddling the firm pillow, then slides his sleep trousers down to expose his bare bottom. In this position, the pressure against his swollen thing is much more pleasurable when he shifts against it.
He can almost hear Eiden’s gentlest voice praising him. Yes, that’s it, Vice-Captain. Make yourself feel good. The thought makes Edmond dizzy with lust. He muffles his moan in the other pillow, dampening it with his saliva.
Clutching the sheets with one hand and his pillow with the other, he thrusts harder against the cushion between his legs. As much as he loves having Eiden inside him, he can’t help imagining what it would feel like to make love this way—pressed against each other, heat and essence pooling low in their abdomens as they rub their erections together.
The motion of his hips causes Edmond’s nipples to brush against the sheets, making them pop out and stiffen. Simply recalling how often Eiden calls them “pretty” or “cute” has him nearly at his limit, panting open-mouthed against the pillow at his head. He presses his face against it, moving faster and harder against the firm cushion squeezed between his thighs.
He’s nearly there. Aloud, he mumbles into his pillow, “It—it’s coming—”
And Eiden is there with him, encouraging him, his hands soft on Edmond’s back. Kissing his neck. Telling him how wonderfully he’s doing. With a half-sob, Edmond cums, his hot seed spilling across the pillow and soaking his stomach.
For a moment, he feels as if he’s floating before he crashes back to reality. In shock at what he’s done, he quickly uses attempts to wipe the pillow clean. Flopping onto his back, he flings an arm over his eyes and groans.
But after a minute or two, he lowers his arm and opens his eyes, glancing over at the mess he’s made of his bedcovers and pillows. Eiden’s voice fills his mind again, praising him. For what, exactly, Edmond isn’t certain, but he knows that his morning self-indulgence would very likely please that filthy-minded fraud.
The idea strikes him as amusing, and he chuckles. It quickly turns into quiet laughter, and he pulls the covers up over his mouth to dampen the sound. Perhaps being around someone so open with his sensual desires isn’t so terrible after all.
Feeling lighthearted and relaxed, Edmond rises from his bed. He quickly strips the soiled linens and leaves them in the laundry, feeling only mild guilt at creating more work for the household staff. Still, he nurtures the little seed of joy that’s been planted in his heart as he makes his way to the bath. Not a bad start to his day after all.