[Even before Ed has taken him in his fist, Oswald is already unraveling, trembling with the sharp, sweet thrill of teeth and tugging lips. He can barely keep his eye open, staring, dully stunned, at Ed bent over him, as if it's someone else's life unfolding. Someone less skittish, more used to giving up their body to pleasure. But it's happening, really happening, his fly jerking open with a sound so loud in the dark and Ed's hands really plunging into his briefs, closing around him. A muscle jumps in his thigh and he arches into the press of Ed's mouth with a wounded moan. His mind whites out. And if Ed didn't have all his attention before, he does now, holding it hostage, as he locks up and forgets how to breathe, unsheathed and oozing precome already.
Oswald tightens his grip around the sheets, a rippling of tendons around his knuckles. It's about as much as anyone could hope to brace themselves.]
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Oswald tightens his grip around the sheets, a rippling of tendons around his knuckles. It's about as much as anyone could hope to brace themselves.]