oho, thanks for playing!! somebody already chose shallow throating, so i'll do edwin masturbation fic, hehe <3 (nsfw under cut)
so this one was inspired by a convo in a server aaages ago, like i think it's been over a year now--tbh i don't remember much about it except the key takeaway points of "edwin would be a pillow humper" and then somehow also "what if the boys have a Masturbation Schedule for who gets to use the games cupboard to jack off at what time"
somebody already wrote a fic about it, like, same day, which i will have to dig up at some point--but me being me and loving weird masturbation habits and intricate rituals, the idea spun out into over 3k of outline alone. i honestly don't know if i'll ever finish this behemoth of what would probably end up being like 10k of smut, but it's been fun to think about anyway :)
Charles stared at the door after it closed behind Edwin, brows drawn together and mouth a tight line. It wasn't unusual for Edwin to want some alone time now and again, but the games cupboard was usually reserved for days when Edwin felt the threat of Hell looming particularly close behind him. He'd never wanted to hang out in there so frequently before. And he was acting a bit shifty, tooâdodging Charles' questions and avoiding his eyes. Charles didn't like it at all. It reminded him a bit too much of what went on with that bloody Cat KingâEdwin always disappearing, keeping secrets, refusing to talk with him. He was starting to seriously worry.
Slowly, and with the sort of silence only Death can grant you, Charles moved towards the door. He stopped his breathing to lean in close and see if he could hear anything. He told himself he was listening for signs of distress or that Edwin needed help, but deeper down, part of him was aware of the fact that he just didn't like it when Edwin kept things from him, and he wanted so badly to know what he was hiding.
A long moment of not hearing anything had him almost giving up, the guilt of eavesdropping starting to overtake his desire to snoop. But just as he was easing back away from the door, there came a sound that rooted him to his spot, all thoughts of leaving abandoned immediately. Hitched, uneven breathingâit was very faint, blending in with the whispering rush of traffic outside and water moving through old pipes, but it sounded likeâit almost sounded like Edwin was crying. He didn't do that oftenâat least not where Charles could seeâand the tiny, distressed noises were ratcheting Charles' worry up to new heights. Charles pressed his ear back to the door, standing tense on the knife's edge between leaving Edwin his privacy, or bursting in to find out what was wrong, to try and fix it, whatever it was. A long, low whine, broken off by a sharp breath, tipped him over onto the side of act first, think later, and he phased his head and shoulders through the door, soothing words already forming on his tongue.
All his thoughts and frantic worrying ground to a halt, though, when he was confronted with the actual scene playing out in front of him, replaced by blank shock and the sluggish pull of his thoughts trying to catch up with what he was seeing. He registered things in flashesâEdwin's red face, the gloved fist shoved in his mouth, the rolling movement of his hips. When the picture finally clicked fully into place, he only got one perfect snapshot of Edwin, braced up against one wall of shelves with his own coat balled up and shoved between his legs, before he panicked and pulled himself back out of the cupboard.
