Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Why do you hide under all these layers?” Ed asked as he helped Oswald shrug his jacket from his shoulders. He hung it delicately on a hanger and wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist from behind to start on his vest.

“I'm not hiding!” Oswald whined. He brushed Ed’s hands away and continued the buttons himself. “I just dress the way my mother taught me to. Properly.”

“Well, you know what I like to see you wearing.”

“And what is that?” Oswald met Ed’s gaze in the mirror and smirked.

“The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you'll die.” Ed peeled the vest away and hooked his thumbs in Oswald’s suspenders, hardly containing his goofy grin.

“I should slap you for that.”

Though he’d hate to admit it, Ed was right. He was hiding, at least a little. Puberty had never hit him the way it did the other kids growing up. His body had stayed soft and scant of hair, never really gaining the muscle mass other boys developed in adolescence. It had certainly been hell in gym class.

Ed seeing him naked was one thing. It meant nothing to him to tear off his own clothes and immediately fall into bed. To be slowly unwrapped was another beast entirely. Ed’s fingers unfastening each button and laying him open layer by layer, like a frog being dissected, made him edgier with each discarded garment. When his suspenders were pulled down and his cravat whisked away from his neck he began to sweat.

“Eddie, please,” he said, squeakier than he’d intended. He smiled sheepishly and held his tuxedo shirt shut. “Could we slow down?”

Ed stepped back and let his hands hover. “Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Of course.”

He busied himself with putting a kettle on while Oswald continued to undress, neatly folding each garment before dropping them in the hamper. He stole glances at his lover, admiring the pale body hidden underneath all those layers. Somehow this innocent peeking made him blush more than when they were entirely nude together, tangled in the sheets and each other. The only thing to jerk him from his hazy daydreaming state was the whine of the kettle as it announced its readiness.

“Cup of tea, darling?” he asked as he pulled two cups from the shelf, clearing his throat to shake the quake his fantasizing had put in it.

“Always.”

When Ed turned to face him again, tray of tea in hand, he had to pause. Something about Oswald looked different. He looked fuller, healthier. His skin didn't have the same grey pallor it’d held when they first met. Of course, someone who didn't know him so intimately might still think him ghoulish, but Ed knew better. He could see the warmth.

Once they were settled in bed, their tea cooling on the bedside table, Ed wrapped an arm around his lover’s waist and pulled him close to spoon under the quilt.

“You have got the softest skin I've ever felt.” Even softer than Kristin’s, he mused. His hand ventured under the front of his lover’s undershirt to gently squeeze the little paunch that had come from night after night of luxurious dinners and Ed’s own home cooking. Oswald squealed but didn't jerk away. “You're so cuddly.”

“Don't pinch my pudge!” Oswald whined, but smiled nonetheless.

“You know, male emperor penguins with a little extra chub are considered to be the most desirable mates. It means they can go longer without food while incubating their eggs.” Grinning, Ed pulled away to lay Oswald on his back and pushed up the hem of his undershirt. His fingertips skated over the pale plane of the older man’s stomach, thumb brushing over the thin line of hair that stretched from his navel to his groin. “Fascinating.”

Oswald eyed him cautiously, but folded his arms behind his head and grinned. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to admire it.” He’d never taken a moment to really take in his lover’s body, to admire each tiny imperfection that when stitched together made a beautiful tapestry of flesh and blood. A few freckles, scars scattered here and there. Unable to resist, he leaned down to kiss a silver line left behind from an appendectomy and lingered to nuzzle it. It hit him just then that Oswald probably didn't want any attention called to the area. “I--I'm sorry, I'll stop.”

“No, please! Continue!” Oswald smiled breathlessly and ruffled Ed’s hair. “You look good on your hands and knees like that.”

Ed didn't need telling twice. He laid down a trail of kisses, pausing now and then to stop and feel the warmth of living flesh against his cheek. When he reached the waistband of Oswald’s briefs, he hooked a finger in the elastic.

“May I?”

“Please.”

Oswald panted as the last thin layer of material between them was pulled away and discarded. The cool air of the loft made him squirm, but Ed was quick to warm him up. The man had such talented hands, engulfing him completely with a touch that got him hard in a few slow strokes. Oswald had to admire his technique. The way he gingerly laid his lips against the head, glancing up over his glasses as if to ask, ‘Is this ok? Did I do well?’, was simply endearing.

The only sounds passed between them while Ed worked were gentle sighs and a single, breathy request of “faster, please.” It only took a few minutes for Oswald to shudder and whimper Ed’s name, knotting his fingers in the sheets as his orgasm crested and fell. His eyes fell shut and he grinned as Ed tucked him back into his boxers.

“Don't forget about your tea, dear.”

“Hmm?” Oswald opened one eye. “Oh, right. Thank you.”

Ed handed him his cup and curled up against his side, laying his head on Oswald’s shoulder and his hand over his stomach as they shared their tea in silence. Nothing could have pleased him more. After all, this was all he ever wanted: a quiet evening with a cup of tea and somebody who loved him.

“Ed, dear?” Oswald murmured.

“Yes?”

“I think I'd like a snack before bed.”