[He's pressed into bed in a daze, tense but unresisting, struggling to keep up with Ed's fingers as they twist and tug and air licks his sweaty skin. The finer details are lost in the dark: scars of his own, the goosebumps already sweeping over thin, heaving ribs and pebbling his nipples. Still, what Oswald can see of Ed - the suggestion of Ed's shape, outlined by the bathroom light shining at his back - is enough to make his stomach swoop, jacking a fresh wave of adrenaline into him.
There's fear there, too, in the lust-drunk eye he turns on Ed's face. Fear of the unknown; of being hurt; of not being enough, always. He knew it would happen, that his hang-ups and misgivings would try and wedge themselves between him and Ed and wrench them apart. But he's made his choice and he grips Ed harder, bitten nails biting into his shoulders. Surrendering to him and holding him to the hope that he'd be well cared for, made to feel as safe and as loved as he desperately needed to be.]
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There's fear there, too, in the lust-drunk eye he turns on Ed's face. Fear of the unknown; of being hurt; of not being enough, always. He knew it would happen, that his hang-ups and misgivings would try and wedge themselves between him and Ed and wrench them apart. But he's made his choice and he grips Ed harder, bitten nails biting into his shoulders. Surrendering to him and holding him to the hope that he'd be well cared for, made to feel as safe and as loved as he desperately needed to be.]