#additional sin

It comes with a sense of futility, the way Ray clenches his fist and says, “Eobard, please- I-.”

And Eobard gives him that half-grin, certain and accentuated by those small laugh lines, every inch of his skin reminding Ray that he is completely, terribly alive. “You what?” he asks. 

Ray sucks in a breath, trying to look anywhere but into Eobard’s eyes, trying not to think about them and the man on the moon and this world that he’s forgotten, something on the tip of his tongue, a missing spot in his head where something Eobard had done once was.

“I- You- Stop making me-” Ray has to stop as Eobard slides his hand over his stomach, his chest feeling tight with guilt. “Stop making me feel like this.”

“Like what?” Eobard asks, the genius speaking only in petulant terms.

“Please,” Ray whispers. “I don’t- You’re so-”

“Are you in love with me, Raymond?” Eobard asks. “Do I make you weak in the knees? Do you want me to touch you, baby boy?”

A whimper. He feels his knees buckle. There’s never been a wall here, there’s never been a pretense- He fell, he fell like an idiot but he can’t unfall, he can’t find Eobard any less handsome or powerful, he can’t stop himself from aching with want-

“I will say this very carefully, Raymond,” Eobard says. “Because you are smart, but you know how much smarter I am, don’t you? Read my fucking lips. I have already died. I don’t plan on killing myself again by letting this urge to fuck you eat me alive. You need me, princess. And I am very, very happy to be needed by you.”

Ray lets out a small, assenting whine, and tosses his head back. “I need you,” he says, and it feels amazing to admit, but also so, so much worse.