@heleerie sent : [Caught]: Sender catches Receiver masturbating and offers to help. - Os to Ed, cause what are boyfriends for :^)c
Eight hours. That was the estimate Oswald gave him for today. He’d be gone for eight hours, out on important business, out with that woman Ed could not stand. And he had only himself to blame for not being there, by Oswald’s side, according to Victor. Apparently, trying to bring a concealed knife to a diplomatic lunch made him a liability. Ed was more than convinced Sofia had brought much more than just his knife, but he had no solid proof, and so, he was to stay at the mansion while Oswald handled business, like some kind of dog. At first, the declaration of his house arrest had infuriated him, but rather than being angry at his boyfriend, Ed took it as a sign that Sofia really was up to no good, and having him out of the picture was part of her master plan.
It was a matter of little importance, because he’d figure her out sooner or later anyways. He figured everyone out, and little miss Falcone would be no different. She was nothing more than a thorn in Oswald’s side, and Ed had no doubts that he’d be perfectly capable of removing it painlessly. For now, however, it was a thorn in his side, also, leaving him with nothing to do but plot and scheme. There was plenty of planning to be done, he was not left to rot in boredom, but it was not the absence of a task that plagued him. It was the absence of him, of Oswald, something he’d grown so used to over the past two years or so. It was beyond odd to be separated from Oswald against his better wishes for as long as eight hours, and it gave Ed a lot to think about. Mainly, he came to the realisation that from that night at the mansion, they had not spent more than perhaps six hours at a time apart, and over the last year, they shared even a bedroom, a bed. Their house was tied to their partnership, to their bond, it was part of them, and it felt weirdly unnatural for one of them to be gone all day while the other stayed back.
Ed loved nothing more than being at Oswald’s side, a pace behind him, always observing, watching over him, helping him decide, giving him advice. Even when they stood beside each other in silence, it came naturally, and there was a sense of connection that was not bound to words between them. As though there was a string tied to each of them, keeping them tethered together. It was stretched out and tense now, and Ed had looked up from his work at least five times in the past fourty minutes to check the time.
Eight hours had been the estimate, and Ed knew better than to worry the second a minute past eight hours struck. It didn’t change, however, the frustration growing in him. Dropping the pen he had been using to note down some numbers in this month’s ledger, Ed moves to stand, discarding the jacket he’s wearing along with the tie he’d kept on all day in case he’d be called for a sponatneous meeting with one of Oswald’s employees or another interested party. He seeks refuge from his brewing anger in their bedroom, the place that no one else will ever enter beside them, almost like a bubble keeping the outside world away from them. It smells less official and serious than the rest of the house, and a lot more like them. Ed can’t help the way irritation prickles under his skin. He knows her games, he knows the looks she’s shooting Os, the way she lingers around him, and even if her attempts are entirely futile, his stomach can’t help but tighten with blinding rage. It’s not that late yet, but it’s been nearly nine hours now. Ed was told this may happen, by his boyfriend, who knew Ed was more than happy to hunt the new head of the Falcone family down to the ends of the earth for simple fun, let alone for revenge, should anything happen to Oswald. But it is late, nonetheless, and Ed drowns the annoyance in him out by burying himself in the memory of the thing that brings him most peace of mind- Oswald. Unlike the jacket and tie he’d left in the office, Ed leaves his shoes near the door, placed parallel to the wall, keeping their space neat with the kind of care he reserves only for this room. The bed is old, and it creaks under his weight when he drops down on it, letting his back sink into the soft depth of the mattress. A hand instinctively comes to his head, plucking his glasses off his face and placing them on his nightstand. He doesn’t need to see anything to know he’s exactly where he needs to be. Ed shifts, turning to face the side of the bed Oswald usually takes up. It smells exactly like he does, sweet in an elegant, sharp way, dipped in a certain coat of smokey depth. His hands reach for the pillow before he really grasps what he’s doing, and Ed buries his face in the familiar scent with a trembling sigh. If he closes his eyes, he can picture Oswald all too vividly. He had his hair styled differently these days, something new, brushed upwards, spiking above his forehead, accentuating the curve of the bridge of his nose and clearing up the view of his eyes. A tinge of dark make up, some lightly applied powder Ed himself had never really used, brought further focus to Oswald’s eyes today, he’d memorised the sight like his very life depended on that mental image.
It’s a train of thought that silences his anger and wakes a familiar warmth in him, peaceful, quiet, and yet, very loud at the same time. Ed sighs again, and it’s less trembling now, heavier with emotion as he shifts his focus to the memory of what Oswald had decided to wear today. It was a perfectly balanced match of deep, dark wine red and black, the tie standing out as the only coloured piece of clothing, the shirt and vest as black as the pants he’d worn, expensive and soft, perfectly tailored to suit Oswald without a single fold being out of place. Ed had taken more time than perhaps necessary that morning to admire his boyfriend’s fashion choices, and his attention had been almost entirely drawn to an accessory he hadn’t seen on Oswald before- a pair of sleeve garters around his upper arms, just below his shoulders, the leather sstraps snugly fastened to stay in place and keep the fabric of his shirt from moving. It added something to the entire look that Edward couldn’t put into words, and he felt the same way about it now as he had felt about it this morning. His chest was warm and tight, mouth dry with inexplicable want, his mind zoning in on the way the leather tightened around his boyfriend’s arms made him look both sharper and softer at the same time, the way he looked too good to be anywhere but here, in their home, with Ed. It woke that urgent sense of possessiveness in him which Ed usually tried to control.
