#edoroku

Edgar: men are hot

Edgar: non-binary people are hot

Edgar: why is everyone so fucking hot?!

Locke: global warming?

Not one to pass up an opening to shower further affection upon his loved ones, Edgar’s arms moved lower to free up enough space for his lips to meet Locke’s neck. He only paused long enough to speak, teeth bared in a stupidly happy grin. “Mmh, hi.”

“Hi,” Locke breathed, unable to mask the effect Edgar’s lips were already having on him. A hand slid backward, tangling with the silky material draped over Edgar’s hips, keeping him close. The other rose to cling to his arm, in an attempt to somehow anchor himself. He was always shocked at how strong Edgar actually was; swinging around polearms and hammers, he supposed, made him that way.

(Edgar had questioned you and you blanched, then, hid yourself from the other Returners even as you defended her.

You’re still thinking about that…

But that was am ambiguous word, because you could have been thinking about the night you felt his hair, smooth between your fingers, the night you breathed against one another, whispered your losses into one another’s skin. The night you signed your allegiance with Figaro in a deeper way than you ever imagined possible)

His name haunts you too. You think about going to South Figaro. You don’t.

((source))