Archive of Our Own

Sometimes, when you’re a detective, no matter how cautious you are, or how many safety measures you take, things still go to shit.

Charles has learned this lesson well over the last 30 years.

Okay, maybe they should've thought it through more, asked a few more questions, before taking a case from a cagey client because he offered a cool enchanted pen as payment. But Edwin’s eyes lit up when he saw it, so can you really blame him?

Something else Charles has learned is that usually, when you play the role of the brawn, hellbent on making sure nothing hurts your partner, you end up getting the brunt of it when things inevitably do go to shit.

-

The plant shop about a block from the office decided to try its hand at selling magic herbs and flowers for potion making, despite most of the staff clearly having never handled anything supernatural in their lives, save for one Minor Botanical Arcana volume that gave them the idea in the first place.

The owner of the shop died a few months later, and promptly burst into their office, pleading for them to take his case. Appearently the bloke bought seeds off some shady hooded customer (who Charles definitely thinks was a witch) and the plant it grew into ended up being more than he bargained for. The owner never admitted exactly what he was hoping the plant would do, but he appearently wasn’t very happy with the outcome.

He told them through gritted teeth about how large the plant ended up growing, and how once it finally started to bloom, it sprayed its pollen directly into his face. He was vague about the details, but he died within two days.

The owner’s only wish before he moved on was for the thing to be destroyed.

So here they were, in the back of the temporarily closed-down shop looking for a big evil plant. In the corner of the staff area, they find stairs leading down to a sloppily boarded off and bolted metal door. Charles thinks that it’s a bit excessive up until the moment he walks down and sees the thing. He’d underestimated how big it would actually be. A massive flower—though Charles isn’t sure it can really be called a flower—stands in full bloom in the center of a labratory. Its roots have long broken through its pot, splayed wildly across the room, and large leaves hug the walls around it. The flower itself is a vibrant pink and looks unnervingly like an open mouth. Charles looks to Edwin and is glad to see that he is also a bit stunned.

Charles speaks first, “Bloody hell, I was picturing more of like… an overgrown houseplant or something, not Audrey II’s equally murderous cousin.” Only this one doesn’t sing and dance, just kills people.

Edwin holds out his hand, “I believe we may have underestimated the size of our threat. I’ll need to identify it before we can be certain that the poison we brought is strong enough to kill it.”

Once Edwin has the appropriate book, it doesn’t take him long to identify the plant. One of the only things their client chose to tell them was that the flower was tricky. He didn’t elaborate much further than that and Charles is starting to wish they’d pressed the bastard further when Edwin turns the book towards Charles with a flushed expression. There’s a detailed illustration of a large flower that matches the one in front of them, and next to it a long description scribbled out in cursive. Charles has heard of these kinds of plants before, mostly through local supernatural gossip, but this is their first time having to actually deal with one.

“Well, shit,” Charles mutters as he skims through the text.

“Quite,” Edwin agrees, equally as staggered.

“Luckily, alongside the nasty list of symtoms are instructions for extermination,” Edwin points out a paragraph at the bottom of the page. “The pistil of the flower is a weak spot, and it can be easily killed if hit with the right combination of poisons”.

Edwin gets to work on the potion while Charles pulls out two gas masks. They’re not certain that the plant can infect ghosts, but it definitely feels like a worthy precaution.

Climbing the giant stem to reach its weak spot is easy enough, avoiding the spraling roots not so much, but Charles manages. He pours the serum into the beast’s mouth with only some struggle, and hears the ghastly thing squeal and squirm as it swallows down the poison. It’s when he turns to smile at Edwin—job well done and all that— that he realizes they might not be in the clear after all.

Charles hears Edwin yell for him about half a second before he’s swallowed by giant petals, surrounding his vision with pink. The petals squish and squeeze hard enough at his head to pull his gas mask loose. Loose enough that Charles gets a healthy lungful when the thing explodes its pollen all around him. Some kind of last-ditch defence mechanism, Charles would guess.

it kinda reminds him of a corpse, the way it explodes all its seed out onto him, like how you appearently shit your guts out when you die. Except Charles doesn’t remember shitting when he died. That would’ve been proper embarrasing, he thinks.

Eventually, Charles is released.

From one second to the next, Edwin is in front of him, luckily still wearing his own mask, shaking a dazed Charles by the shoulders.

Charles doesn’t remember the moments after, but he’s sat near the stairwell to the basement, coughing up a lungful of pollen, gas mask discarded on the floor.

"Charles," Edwin says shakily in front of him.

"Those gas masks were pretty shit, weren’t they?" Charles jokes once he’s done coughing. He looks at Edwin properly then. He’s on the verge of tears, breathing unsteadily and loudly enough that Charles can hear it through the ringing in his ears. He can’t have that.

"Hey, we don’t know that it affects ghosts, yeah? I might be fine." Charles wishes he could give better reassurance, because Edwin doesn’t look the least bit reassured. The thing is, Charles doesn’t exactly feel unaffected right now. He’s starting to get hot, which shouldn’t happen to ghosts, and there’s a twisting feeling in his stomach, and the more aware of himself he becomes the more symtoms he’s checking off that point to a pretty simple conclusion. Still, he can’t let Edwin panic.

"Let’s get you back to the office," Edwin suggests and hands Charles his bag. It takes a few tries, but he eventually pulls out a mirror and they go through, Edwin leading the way as Charles’s mind continues to swim.

-

Edwin spends the next hour researching, trying to find anything that could help Charles. The instant they got back he thoroughly examined Charles, who was exhibiting a concerning amount of the symptoms listed, try as he might to stifle them from Edwin. Charles had removed his jacket and polo since getting back and has been horribly restless. He walked into their closet about 20 minutes ago. Edwin didn’t ask why, and hasn’t asked him to come back out, as worried as he is not having Charles within sight, but he listens closely and calls out for a response if Charles gets too quiet.

He’s been searching through every goddamn book in the office that might even be slightly related to the situation they’re in right now and so far he’s only found a handful of books that list causes and symptoms and what will likely happen to Charles if he is not cured, but there’s only been one concensus as to how to actually cure him.

Edwin feels resigned and increasingly frantic every minute that passes and it’s as he closes another useless book and hears a pained whine come from the closet that he finally breaks.

“Charles?” Edwin approaches the closet door.

“Yeah, mate?” Charles says lowly enough that Edwin can barely hear him from the other side of the door.

“Charles, are you alright? You sound… I’d like to see you.” It’s been 20 minutes since Charles has been out of Edwin’s sight and he’s hated every second of it. If not for his wish to respect Charles’s privacy in such a vulnerable state, he would’ve ripped the door open by now.

“No! No, I’m fine, don’t worry, yeah?” Charles responds immediately. He sounds breathless and pained and Edwin is very worried.

“Charles, you have been infected by something that could kill you in a few days time, how do you expect me not to worry?” He doesn’t want to snap at Charles right now, but he just spent the better part of an hour reading through his useless books while Charles has been slowly losing time. A few days is just an estimate, too. Nothing he read suggested that there’s a different timeframe between ghosts and the living, but he’s a bit too angry and panicked to trust them right now.

“You’ll figure it out with your big brain, mate. I know you will,” Charles says. Edwin wishes the words could be more reassuring than they are, but he can only think of one possible solution right now. If he had time to do some proper research— go out and find more books, ask around the right spaces— he might be able to find another cure. But he doesn’t, because Charles is fading, and Edwin couldn’t bear the thought him dying while he is out buying books.

“I think we need to discuss the most widely suggested cure,” Edwin says. The only cure he’s been presented.

“Giving it what it wants?” Charles asks.

“Yes,” Edwin whispers, saying it feels like being stabbed. He sighs, and steels himself before adding “I can ask Crystal.”

“No!” Charles says immediately. “That wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“Well I don’t know what else to bloody do!” Edwin snaps.

Charles is silent. Everything is too quiet. He needs to figure something out, to make sure Charles is okay. He can’t even tell how he’s doing right now, with Charles shielded behind the door.

“Charles, I don’t want to argue with you, but we need to figure out a way to fix this. I know this is hard on you and that you might not want to be seen right now, but I would not like to discuss your fate to a closet door.”

“Okay,” Charles finally says. “Okay, just-“

Edwin doesn’t waste a second before walking through the door, nearly running into Charles’s legs as he steps inside. Through the dim closet light Edwin can see Charles slumped on the floor. His flush has gotten worse, his sweat has soaked through his singlet and sheened on his skin, and there’s a feverish blush running from his face to his chest. He’s heaving breaths and his hand is hidden in his pants. Oh.

Charles startles when he sees Edwin and pulls his hand back into view. “Shit- sorry! You weren’t supposed to- I was gonna say to give me a minute first!”

Distantly, Edwin thinks that he should probably care that he just caught his best friend with his dick in his hand, and how that meant Charles had likely been touching himself while they spoke, but he can’t bring himself to care about that at the moment.

“Charles, you look…”

Charles dawns a smile that looks more like a wince. “Dashing?”

Tears sting in Edwin’s eyes. He hasn’t seen Charles look like this since the night he died. “I will fix this. I promise.” Edwin’s voice comes out shakily, but Charles looks at him and there isn’t an ounce of doubt in his eyes. He’s shivering slightly, and he thinks he sees tears in Charles’s eyes too. Edwin feels little but doubt right now. Doubt and fear.

“Of course you will,” Charles says.

Despite everything, Edwin can’t help but smile, just a bit. “Can we get out of this closet first?” Edwin asks and holds out a hand to Charles. Charles reaches to take it, but as soon as he makes contact he pulls back, shuttering at the touch as if he’d been electrocuted. Charles’s breathing quickens as he’s stares down at his hand, then up at Edwin. Before Edwin can say anything, ask if he’s alright, Charles reaches for the closet handle and pulls himself up with effort.

Edwin follows Charles out of the closet and across the room to their couch. Charles takes a wrong step and stumbles to the side. Edwin catches him by the shoulder and doesn’t miss another shutter racking through Charles. Edwin pulls his hand back apologetically.

“Does it hurt? When I touch you?” Edwin asks once Charles is seated on the couch. Charles shakes his head, still working on breathing normally. “It feels… you feel really good.” He says after a moment, looking down in shame. It takes Edwin a moment, but he follows Charles’s gaze down and notices the buldge in Charles’s still unbuttoned trousers and understands. He hates the spark of interest he feels low in his gut at the realization.

In the light Charles looks somehow worse. His pupils are dilated and bloodshot. He’s hunched over, hugging his stomach, thankfully obscuring the erection Edwin’s trying to ignore. Edwin kneels down in front of Charles so he can look at him properly. “Do you know anyone else who might agree to… help?” Edwin asks. He knows the answer, they don’t know many other people besides Niko and Crystal, and Edwin doubts Charles would let even them see him this vulnerable. Still, it’s no more dejecting when Charles shakes his head.

Despite Charles’s efforts, his breathing is still ragged, and harsh enough that Edwin can feel it on his face from where he kneels. “Just you,” Charles says sotto voce. His eyes are desperate and pleading, swallowed in a ring of black. Edwin can see his own stunned face reflected off of them. He looks a mess, not as bad as Charles, but his hair is fallen out of place and his eyes are sunken and red from stifled tears. A terrifying conclusion settles in his mind.

If he thought there were another option, or if Charles had someone else he would agree to be with, Edwin wouldn’t even think to present this as a solution. But as it is, his mind is only swarmed with page after page of useless information and the sight of Charles’s wretched state with a timer looming over his head.

Edwin places a gentle hand on Charles’s knee and tries to gather his senses, tries to maintain eye contact as he speaks. “I only have one solution in mind”. Charles nods expectantly. Hopefully. Edwin shuts his eyes. He can’t do this while while Charles looks at him like that. “If you’ll let me, I’ll… I am willing. I promise we would only do what is necessary to cure you, and once it’s done we can pretend it never happened-”

“What? No!” Charles says abruptly. Edwin nods. He’s glad he can’t see the disgust on Charles’s face, but maybe he deserves to. “I can’t do that to you,” Charles adds, which makes Edwin look at him again, brows furrowed in confused frustration. “Charles, I will be fine. You will not if we if we sit here doing nothing and I’m running out of options!”

Edwin doesn’t understand why Charles is worried about him right now. He is allowed to be repulsed, horrified even by Edwin’s proposal, but he has no right to be worried.

Charles stares down at the hand on his knee. There are tears rolling down both their faces now. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to control myself. I won’t let myself hurt you.”

Edwin cups Charles’s face and tilts his head so that Charles is looking at him again. “I am not the one in danger right now. You will not hurt me, Charles,” Edwin says, hoping his steadfast words get through to Charles, but he just shakes his head in response, more tears falling from his eyes and catching on Edwin’s hand.  Edwin cups Charles’s face with both hands now. He needs him to listen, to believe him. “You being slightly rough will hurt me much less than if I lose you. I can handle rough.”

Charles nuzzles into Edwin’s hands, like he can’t help not to. “You shouldn’t have to. You’ve never… you’ve never done this before, right? It’d be your first time. It wouldn’t be fair for this to be your first.” Charles speaks like it’s a struggle to get the words out. It’s mad that they’re arguing about this while Charles is suffering to the point he can barely speak.  Why is this what he needs to be convinced of?

 “If I had to choose anyone to have my first with, it would be you, Charles. This is no burden.” Edwin swallows his shame as he says it, because he thinks it might help Charles to hear. It’s ridiculous that Charles thinks he’d be the one hurting Edwin, when deep down, Edwin is the one who would actually enjoy it. He knows that under any other circumstance Charles would never want Edwin like this. He doesn’t say any of that, though, because he thinks that may make things worse.

Charles searches his gaze, staring into his soul and seeing Edwin’s softest, most vulnerable spots. Edwin lets him, if it means proving the honesty of his words, and because Charles deserves to see them. Edwin thinks that finally, he might be getting through to Charles, that swimming in the expanse of Edwin’s open eyes has shown him what he needs to see.

“You can fade though me if you need to? Get away from me if it’s too much?” Charles asks brokenly. He looks desperate, the echoes of his resolve crumpling under Edwin’s gaze and touch.

Edwin nods, “of course.”

He won’t, he could never, but Charles needs this, to know that Edwin will be okay. Edwin leans his forehead against Charles’s and whispers “please let me do this.”

Charles exhales a sharp breath against Edwin’s face and leans in, connecting their lips slowly, messily, like he’s trying to drink him in. Edwin lets himself melt against Charles’s lips, relief, want, and warmth washing over him. When Charles pulls away, it’s with ragged breaths and a wild glint in his eyes.

“Lie down?” Charles whispers. It’s almost a plea, almost a question, almost an order. Edwin doesn’t waste a second before climbing onto the small couch next to Charles.

Charles climbs on top of him as soon as he’s on his back. There’s something hungry in Charles’s eyes that wasn’t there before and Edwin thinks any restraint Charles was holding onto has well and truly dissolved. Charles presses his weight onto Edwin. It’s nice, grounding him in a moment where he might otherwise float away. His cold nose and spit-slick lips nuzzle against Edwin’s neck. Charles’s hands slide under Edwin’s jacket and rest at his sides as he begins nipping and licking sloppily at the skin there.

Edwin doesn’t have any room in his mind to think about what’s happening, Charles on top of him, all but writhing against him, his mouth, his hands. Edwin can already feel himself unravelling, the sensations overtaking him, but he needs to keep himself together, make sure one of them has a hold on themselves. He grips the cusions below him and tries to focus on the weight of Charles and nothing else.

Shaky fingers start to claw at Edwin’s shirt buttons, despite all the other layers that would have to go first. Charles can barely get the first button open, and he grows more frustrated and desperate with each failed attempt. His hardness is grinding down against Edwin’s thigh, and the feeling sends sparks to Edwin’s own hardening cock. It’s foolish of him, he knows, to try to fight against his own arousal right now, it was always going to be a losing battle. He can’t be professional about this, having sex with Charles. The thought makes a hysterical laugh bubble from his throat. Everything about this situation makes Edwin think he’s gone around the bend, that at any moment he’ll wake up and realize that this was all some sick imagining. At least then Charles would be safe.

“Edwin?” Charles startles him back to attention.

He managed to get a button undone, but his shaking fingers now rest against Edwin’s chest, his frustration given way to defeat. What is he doing? Laying here like he’s fucking useless, leaving Charles to do all the work.

“I’m sorry, let me help you, Charles.” He pets a hand through Charles’s curls comfortingly, Charles softens into the touch. “Can- can you just make them go away? You have so many bloody layers. I want to touch you.” Charles sounds weak and pitiful. It feels wrong to hear Charles like that, when he normally holds himself so strong, enough to carry Edwin’s entire world.

Edwin supposes he would have to undress eventually. He probably wouldn’t need to be fully naked for them to do this, but Charles asked him to be, and Edwin would give Charles anything he asked for right now. So Edwin focuses for a moment, until the layers that have covered him for so many years dissapear from his body, leaving him bare in front of Charles—or anyone, for that matter—for the first time in his existence. The way Charles looks at him, so reverent and loving, is worth the vulnerability.

Charles makes quick work of his own clothes, all but ripping the layers off in a way that Edwin is grateful Charles didn’t try to handle his own. Charles climbs back on top of him, the warm press of naked skin sends a shiver through both of them, Charles most of all, who moans at the contact.

“Does this make you feel better?” Edwin can’t help but ask. His hand strokes Charles’s back, far too gently when compared to the slide of their naked cocks against eachother.

“Yes! Brills, you- you feel brills, mate.” Charles mouths at Edwin’s collarbone, trailing kisses, licks, and bites down his torso. He tries his best not to arch into it, but the attention sends waves of pleasure to his now leaking cock, soft moans escaping his lips.

When Charles reaches his abdomen he pulls back, taking in the sight of Edwin’s red, hard cock, then glancing up at Edwin in question. Edwin spreads his legs, allowing Charles access. Charles sighs, one hand reaching to wrap around Edwin’s cock and the other moving down to his rim. Edwin gasps sharply at the contact, a jolt running up his spine like electricity. Charles’s hand spreads open one of his cheeks, his thumb grazing the exposed hole. His other hand strokes Edwin with a loose grip. Charles looks oddly focused now, staring down at his hands on Edwin.

“You- ah- I believe you must use your fingers first, before you…” Edwin says breathlessly. Charles proabably knows this already, and Edwin really doesn’t expect he knows more than Charles on this matter— even if Charles has only been with girls before— but as it is Charles is just staring entranced as he rubs and stokes Edwin agonizingly slow, so he figured he should say something.

“Yeah- yeah, fuck, Edwin lube, we need lube!” Charles glances around frantically. If they have anything that would work as a lubricant in the office, Edwin doesn’t know, or at least he can’t quite recall at the moment with Charles’s hand on his cock, and Charles doesn’t seem to either, so Edwin improvises. He grabs the hand Charles was using to rub deliciously teasing circles against his rim and pulls his fingers up to his mouth.

“Here,” Edwin breathes and opens his mouth for Charles. Charles curses and pushes two fingers inside, letting Edwin lather them in as much spit as he can.

After a moment of exploring Edwin’s mouth, Charles pulls out and Edwin feels a now slick finger brush against his hole once more. The wet sensation sends shivers through Edwin and he has to fight the urge to push back against it (his pace- we’re doing this at Charles’s pace).

Charles has started stroking himself, his cock is angry and leaking with the quick pace of his fist. Edwin’s own cock jumps at the sight, precum drooling onto his stomach.

Charles pushes his finger inside and it’s—Edwin thinks his brain might be melting out through his ears.

 The intrusion is almost too strange to be pleasurable. still, the feeling of Charles’s long, deft finger breaching him, filling him if even minutely, it’s like a shock to Edwin’s system. Something between a hiss and a moan escapes him as Charles’s finger slides further.

He’s too tight, his rim clenches on Charles’s finger unpleasantly. He needs to relax. Edwin takes hold of himself and starts a slack pace, trying to focus on the sensation.  It works well enough that Charles’s finger slides the rest of the way comfortably. Edwin sighs into the feeling, settling from discomfort to pleasure. Charles doesn’t move his finger any more, though, his eyes fixed on something else.

“Fuck, can I- I need to taste you Edwin, please,” Charles begs, staring at Edwin’s cock, which twitches at his request.

“Yes, yes, just, keep stretching me.” Edwin removes his hand, using it to hold his leg back futher in enouragement.

Charles wraps his lips around Edwin’s cock and—oh god. Edwin makes an embarassingly loud sound that only motivates Charles to sink down further. His finger has started pumping now, dragging in and out and it’s so much and so good and Edwin wants to feel guilty about it, only he’s a bit busy having his mind blown.

The slick sounds of it all, Charles’s hands and mouth, reverberate lewdly through the office along with hitched moans and ragged breathing. It should be gross, but instead of disgust Edwin just finds arousal pool further in his gut as he gets lost in noise and sensation, and God is there sensation. Charles’s mouth is sweet warm velvet around his cock and the now two fingers fill him and stretch him and rub against walls in a way that is foreign and addictive. Charles undoes him with messy enthusiasm as Edwin tries to figure out how to thrust up and back at the same time.

Edwin doesn’t even realize how close he is until he’s writhing and gasping with every movement and he’s strung so tight he feels like a cracked dam ready to burst. Charles looks up through fluttering lashes at his wrecked state and buries his face down until his nose nuzzles against pubic hair.

Edwin’s vision goes white as he comes down Charles’s throat.

Charles eventually pulls off of Edwin’s softening cock and stills the movements of his hands. There’s a wild panic in Charles’s eyes and Edwin has returned from his haze enough to feel a pit of guilt and dread at his actions. He stupidly thought he could hold it together for Charles during his moment of need, that he wouldn’t get lost in his own lust. Instead, he let Charles act in ways that he regrets even through his need, all for his own pleasure.

This was all a mistake. He needs to apologize, to find some other way to cure Charles.

Charles speaks before Edwin is able to.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have… sorry, ‘m sorry. Edwin, please let me- I need- can I still fuck you?”

Charles’s eyes are teary and what the hell is he sorry for? Edwin’s previous thoughts derailed, he strokes a hand through Charles’s hair soothingly. “Of course. Charles, you’ve been nothing but perfect, there’s no need to worry.”

Charles softens, smiling dopily, and kisses Edwin softly. There’s a hunger there, still, bubbling under Charles’s lips. Edwin uses that as a reminder not to sink into the bliss of being touched so sweetly. He’s still reeling from the first orgasm he’s had in over a century—the best one he’s ever had, given to him by Charles—but they must press on.

“Carry on,” Edwin sighs, pulling back from Charles’s lips.

“You sure?”

Edwin pulls Charles in by the hips until his cock presses against his arse. “I’m sure.”

Charles pushes in slowly, searching Edwin’s face for signs of pain or discomfort. The precum coating Charles’s cock and leftover saliva isn’t enough lubricant, and Edwin can feel it as Charles breaches his tight hole. They probably shoud’ve stretched him more as well. Luckily, Edwin is very good at hiding signs of pain and discomfort. Not that what he is feeling is even close to what he would consider torturous.

Charles pauses when he’s halfway inside. Edwin can feel the strain of how hard Charles is trying to restrain himself from pushing in further from the way his hips are practically buzzing with the effort not to move and his hands fist into the cushions beside Edwin. He whimpers quietly against Edwin’s neck.

“Charles, what’s the matter? Why have you stopped?”

Charles shakes his head, “you’re so tight. Too tight. I need to wait.”

Even at a time like this, Charles manages to put his needs aside for Edwin. This isn’t about him, though— He’s doing fine, all things considered. Not when he can feel Charles trembling against him. Edwin brushes his hand over Charles’s wet cheek and guides his face up to look at him.

“I’m fine. I promise. Fuck me.”

Charles’s hips snap forward on their own accord, and Charles whines.

“Fuck, you sure?”

“yes,” Edwin snaps.

Charles’s restraint washes away from him once more. He grips a hand to Edwin’s hip, pushes his legs further back against his chest, and thrusts.

It’s a relentless pace Charles sets. He’s all but sobbing with relief as he finally chases his pleasure and it’s becoming increasingly obvious just how much he’d been holding back before. The feeling of Charles driving into him over and over and over—gripping his hips and thighs, using him—it’s overwhelming and exhilirating and it leaves Edwin gasping for needless breaths.

Edwin fists one of his hands into the couch cushion to ground himself, afraid he might drift through it otherwise. He uses the other to hold onto Charles, palm against his back where he can feel muscles shifting with each movement, then up to his hair. His fingers run through Charles’s curls, occasionally pulling at particularly hard thrusts. He doesn’t think Charles minds.

Charles, for his part, is nipping and sucking at Edwin’s throat mindlessly in a way that would leave dark bruises. His moans are raspy and desperate and he’s drooling on Edwin inbetween bites. It’s all rather messy, really, but Edwin can’t say he minds. Not with the way Charles feels inside him now that he’s adjusted to it, or the drag of his cock against Charles’s stomach as he rocks against him, or the sounds Charles makes as he attacks his throat.

Most of all, the knowledge that after this—because of this—Charles will be okay.

Despite that, there’s a part of Edwin that’s dreading the after. When Charles comes to his senses and realizes what he and Edwin had just done. Knowing how Charles feels against him, and that he’ll never get to feel it again. He knows Charles will tell him he forgives him. Wheather he actually will, if they’ll ever really be able to move on from this, seems like too good a wish to come true.

“You feel so good, so good, Edwin,” Charles whines. His thrusts never had any real rhythm to them, but they become allthemore erratic. “And, god, you sound-“ Charles cuts himself off with a sob. Edwin hadn’t even realized he was making sounds. Now that he has, he’s all too aware of the high-pitched moans escaping his throat. He thinks he would be embarrased about it, if he wasn’t too far gone to care.

“Charles,” Edwin moans, because it’s the only word he can manage to say with one foot off the cliff towards his rapture. He doesn’t think he can keep balance much longer.

“Fuck, yes, I love you. I love when you say my name. I love you,” Charles murmurs. Edwin wishes he couldn’t make out the slurred words.

Suddenly, he doesn’t think he can handle hearing Charles say anything else, can’t handle whatever words he might incriminate himself with next, so he pulls Charles’s face up and smothers his breathy moans with his mouth. He shoves his tongue down Charles’s throat and Charles sucks him in. It only takes a few more thrusts before Charles shudders and cries out as he spills inside of Edwin.

He bites down on Edwin’s lip. Hard. Edwin can taste blood welling up in his mouth and it’s an overload of sensation; of Charles still spilling inside of him, of his cock trapped against his and Charles’s stomachs, of Charles’s wrecked cries reverberrating against his mouth. The white hot pain mixing with pleasure is what makes Edwin come as well.

Edwin thinks, for a moment, that he might be floating. It’s a distict possibility, actually. He’s done it before, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt as weightless as he does now. He's not floating, he realizes, because Charles still has him pressed into the couch.

Some time passes before Edwin really comes back to his senses.

It has to have, because by the time he’s aware of his surroundings again, Charles is no longer inside of him. Nor is he on top of Edwin anymore, and that realization startles him back to full alertness.

He glaces around and sees Charles crouched next to him—thank god. His undershirt is balled in his hand, wiping the spend off of Edwin’s torso. He appreciates it, feeling like a mess of bodily fluids. Then, so gently it aches, Charles dabs the blood from his lip. Charles’s hands are shaking terribly, and he looks distraught. Fuck, Is he still sick?

 Charles moves back and Edwin sits up and wills his clothes back on. Charles sits on the far end of the couch, hugging himself. He makes no move to get dressed, so Edwin gathers Charles’s clothes from the floor and hands them to him like a peace offering. Charles looks up at the offered clothes and then briefly at Edwin. His fists are balled intensely, eyes prickled with more tears. He looks like he’s about to run, but stays frozen. Slowly, he takes the clothes and starts to put them on. Both of them are silent.

“Do you feel better, Charles?” Edwin asks once Charles has his clothes back on, speaking like he’s approaching a hurt animal. One he’s terribly afraid he himself hurt.

“I’m aces.” Charles sounds strung out, on the verge of breaking.

“It’s alright if you aren’t.” Edwin reaches out, but Charles swiftly pulls away. “I understand, if you’re upset.” If you never want to speak to me again, Edwin doesn’t say.

Charles looks at him, horrified and angry.

“You’re bleeding,”  Charles chokes out, like it’s an explaination.

Edwin is only more confused. “That is nowhere near the largest concern right now, Charles.”

“Yes it is,” Charles retorts immediately. “You shoud’ve shoved me off.”

Edwin gapes, “and let you die?”

“You should’ve at least been in charge!” Charles snaps.

“I was in charge. I could have fazed though the couch anytime I wanted to, as you suggested. You were the one with no choice.” Edwin’s voice goes quiet at the end. Everything about this is a fucking mess.

“You should’ve at least been on top. I shouldn’t have been allowed to touch you like that.” It’s clear from Charles’s voice that he’s trying not to cry.

“I wanted you to have some sense of control.” Edwin tries for a soothing tone, he doesn’t know that it’s working. He’s trying to remain calm right now, because one of them has to.

“Well, you shouldn’t have given me control,” Charles stands abruptly to walk futher away from Edwin. He can’t hold his tears back anymore.  “Look what I did with it.”

“My lip will heal in just a tick. I promise it is no big deal, Charles.” Edwin wishes he could focus enough on his body to will the cut away already.

“It’s not just that, it’s- it’s everything. Everything about what I did while you just layed there.”

“That is an unfair phrasing of events.”

Everything about this argument is absurd. Of all things Charles has the right to freak out over, of course it would be Edwin’s bloody wellbeing.

“Is it?” Charles responds incredulously. “Fuck, that was your first time and I-“ Charles forces himself to look Edwin in the eyes. “I’m so sorry,” Charles croaks, then “you need to be angry at me.”

Edwin shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I could never.”

“I don’t get to just hurt you like that, mate.”

Edwin forces himself to take a calming breath. They’re getting nowhere. “There is really no need to feel guilty, I assure you. You could never hurt me.”

“I did. I did hurt you.”

God, Charles is being so stubborn about this. “I know pain, Charles. In hell-”

Charles laughs darkly, “great, I hurt you less than actual bloody demons.” shit. This is derailing fast. “The fact I’m even being compared-”

“Charles, I liked it.” Edwin pushes out.

Charles stops and looks at him with shock and terror and maybe hope. Edwin can’t bring himself to look at him, but he tries to school his expression and voice into staying calm and confident. “The circumstances weren’t ideal, but I did.” He feels breathless as he says it. It’s guilty and freeing at the same time, like he’s a boy sat in a confessional, telling Charles all his sins.

“You did?” Charles asks in a tone that carries too many emotions for Edwin to pick apart, but he can tell Charles doesn’t quite believe him yet.

“Of course,” Edwin breathes. Of course he did. It should be obvious in the way he was a complete mess, In the way he moaned from pleasure he never thought he’d be able to feel.

In the way that any touch from Charles will always feel like the greatest blessing he could ever hope to receive.

Charles shakes his head, like he’s trying to bring himself back to some other reality where he is a horrible, irredeemable wretch. “Just because- that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you.”

Edwin can’t do another round of this. He stands to meet Charles and grabs his face desperately. “Charles, what will it take to convince you that you did nothing wrong?” Edwin bores his soul into Charles’s eyes until his shoulders go slack and he melts into the touch. Edwin wipes a tear from his face.

“You promise?” Charles chokes out. He sounds so small.

“I promise.”

It feels like an eternity before Charles nods his acceptance. He hopes Charles means it, that he’s not holding onto guilt that he doesn’t deserve.

The tide only clears for a moment before Edwin is brought back into despair. Charles’s guilt served as a good distraction from his own. he tries to hold it in, because he just got Charles to calm down, and if he breaks he’s scared Charles will break with him.

Charles must still see it on his face, because he demands to know what’s wrong.

Edwin lets it go. “I just- I know you would have never wanted this, and, if I had thought it through properly I could’ve figured something else out. I’m afraid this could have all been avoidable.”

Charles, with tear streaks still staining his face, has the audacity to look surprised.

He pulls Edwin into a hug, something Edwin avoided doing but craved since the moment they first stepped back into the office. He clings to Charles, and knows he doesn’t deserve it.

“It’s bloody ridiculous that you think you have anything to feel bad about here, mate. You saved me, that’s the end of it.” Charles says into the crook of Edwin’s neck. A sob wells up in Edwin’s throat. “I’m afraid I took advatage of you, Charles. And I liked it.” He feels horrible. He hates how badly he needs Charles to keep him in his arms, after everything. Charles does. He holds onto him as his he cries quietly into his shoulder. It’s unfairly tender. “You didn’t… and I liked it too.”

Edwin makes himself pull away then, needing to look at Charles, who isn’t meeting his eyes. He’s trying to look composed, but the knot in his jaw and the hands tightening in Edwin’s jacket give him away.

Edwin presses on, steadying himself enough to speak without a tremble. “I am glad, that it felt good for you, but I wasn’t under any spells. I should have been focused on you. Breaking the spell.”

Charles does meet his gaze then, though he looks hesitant. “It wasn’t the spell.” He whispers, like he’s scared to say it any louder.

“What do you mean?” Edwin’s heart does flips. He won’t let his mind jump to conclusions.

Charles smiles, that smile that looks more like a grimace. The one he makes when he’s nervous about what he’s going to say next. “The spell was what made me need it, but it didn’t make me like any of it. that was just you, mate.”

“Oh,” Edwin says, though he isn’t sure what Charles means. Something in him loosens, though, knowing he was able to make it good for Charles.

“I’m glad,” Edwin says again, because he’s not sure what else to say. He doesn’t know what any of this means, what will come of it. Charles enjoying sex with him doesn’t mean he returns his feelings, or that he’ll want to do it again. But that doesn’t stop the betraying glimmer of hope that blooms inside him. He wonders if it shows on his face.

He pulls away from Charles fully then, because it’s time to move on now that everything’s okay. They still have a case to wrap up. He pretends not to see the dissapointment on Charles’s face. He turns away from Charles, walking towards the desk. Charles is okay, their friendship is intact, they can move on from this. “With that settled, I suggest we contact the shop owner and refer him to a disposal service that will deal with the remains of the plant. After that, I am satisfied with calling this case closed. Do you agree, Charles?”

“I love you.”

Edwin doesn’t think he heard it right, at first. He wants to tell himself he didn’t. He turns around anyway. Charles’s eyes are shiny and desperate.

The memory of the last time Charles said those words echoes through him. he’d been trying not to think about it, about Charles saying it before shuddering apart inside him. Then he thinks about the time before, when they were on the stairs of hell. It always sounded so easy when Charles said it. This was the first time it sounded like an admission. 

“It’s still… I’m still wrapping my head around it. I wanted to tell you before, as soon as I found out, really. But I made myself wait until I had myself sorted. I was planning to make it all romantic, plan a big gesture to knock you off your feet. Or at least like, take you on a date or something…”

Charles walks closer with shakey legs. Edwin thinks he’s shaking too.

Charles clasps Edwin’s hand in his and gives a shy smile. “Sorry I mucked it up because of a fucking sex plant.”

It shouldn’t make Edwin laugh, nothing about this is funny.

Edwin chuckles. Charles doesn’t seem to mind.

Charles’s forehead rests against his, and Edwin slowly leans in to kiss him. Because he can. Charles’s mouth moves against his unhurriedly. The kiss feels different than the others, maybe because it’s the first kiss that feels real, grounded in the sound of I love you still playing in Edwin’s mind.

“You love me, and you are safe, and that is all that matters,” Edwin says breathlessly when he pulls away.

“I am so, so in love with you, Edwin Payne.”

They stand there like that for a while, forehead to forehead, pressed close. Edwin thinks they might melt together if they stay like this for long enough. It isn’t a bad thought.

“I know we just… but, like, I’m still kinda figuring out this whole being in love thing.” Charles whispers nervously through the silence.

Edwin pulls away enough to look at the beautiful boy— his beautiful boy—in front of him. “I am too. We’re not going anywhere, are we Charles? We have as much time as we need.”

Charles beams at him. he looks like he might cry again.

“Can I still take you on a date? Do this proper before I fuck you into the couch again?” Charles says cheekily, but there’s genuine question there.

Edwin pretends to consider the offer. “After we finish with this case. I believe I’m still owed an enchanted pen.”

He doesn’t think he could ever get tired of Charles’s smile.

“Brills.”