They can laugh about oysters later. For the first time, Edward understands why they have a reputation as an aphrodisiac.
Since losing his sight, touch and tactile sensations have become much more important to Edward. The vibrations certainly fill in gaps and allow him more independence than he could have dreamed of back home, but until recently they lacked colour. It has made him crave touch, and led him to being a great deal more grabby than he would be otherwise. He's learned who in the convoy wants a warning before being touched (Donnie and Serph), who claims to not like it but then reaches out when they think you're not paying attention (Arcade), and who is always down for some casual contact (Leo and Raph). But with Andrew, he doesn't even have to think about it; he just reaches out, knowing he'll be met with affection and touches back.
"It was good, wasn't it? Imagine how well we'll do once we've had more practice."
Edward mouths gently at the side of Andrew's neck, tasting another hint of salt on his skin. He's so content and happy right now that he could melt into Andrew and never leave.
Practice. That made him laugh, breathless and warm. "It was. Imagine what the practice will be like." That would be good too, he was sure. How could it not be? Even if they stumbled along the way, they'd be doing it together, and they'd still have good times. Maybe the stumbling would be a bit more awkward or more focused on learning, but he didn't have to try hard to imagine how sexy this sort of learning would still be.
"There's a lot to practice, too." Which was really an excuse to try things, things he knew he liked, things he didn't know if he liked but he damn well wanted to find out. He wanted to discover things Edward liked, too, naturally, by touch and exploration--and maybe asking on anything he felt was risky, rather than just diving into them.
That reminded him of an earlier thought, one he'd lost in the midst of orgasm, and then drifting in the pleasure, and now catching his breath, and...maybe he wouldn't ask. Maybe he'd end up flustered all over again at the thought of it. Edward did seem to enjoy his claws; it felt wildly obvious not just in physical reactions, but in the vibrations.
"I think this is the one thing where I'm not going to mind studying in the slightest." He grinned. Studying, yes, absolutely not a euphemism at all. Like he wasn't planning on 'studying' Edward's body with his hands and mouth, mapping and remembering sensitive places, the best reactions.
"Oh, you'll find I love studying." And this particular topic is one Edward is very eager to know more about! One hand traipses up Andrew's front, following the line of his abdomen up to his chest, and then curling in his hair. "I'm a very enthusiastic student, and I intend to pass this course with flying colours."
Pass with distinction, even!
Edward is aware how silly he sounds right now, and laughs against the side of Andrew's neck. Then he curls closer, slinging his leg across Andrew's thighs, holding onto him with both free arms.
"Thank you." He breathes it into Andrew's ear, then kisses his earlobe. "Thank you for being patient with me."
It might have been silly, but it was a really good, charming sort of silly, and a warm feeling curled in Andrew's chest. When he laughed, it was fond and amused, relaxed. "I could tell, yeah. Your enthusiasm is appreciated." Which felt like an understatement, but it was the closest he could get when his thoughts were going in five different directions, snagged on Edward's hands on him, his mouth on his neck, imagining the both of them 'studying'--and a brief thought of something like university uniforms. Not that he'd ever been to a school with a uniform, but that was beside the point.
This was exactly where he wanted to be; tangled together with Edward, warm and happy, so much physical contact, comfortable and easy. He slid a hand along one of Edward's arms, slowly, and he was about to ask 'for what?' when Edward clarified. That warm feeling in Andrew's chest flared hotter.
"Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper. "For being patient with me." They were both new to a lot of things, but it wasn't just that. Andrew was skittish and full of self-doubt and there were just so many things that other people had been far less patient with him about. But not Edward. He'd been nothing but kind and sweet and patient. Andrew wasn't denying Edward's thanks, either, wasn't brushing things aside, just expressing his own gratitude in turn.
The thought of not being patient had never even occurred to him. Andrew wasn't the kind of person to rush or push--not with things like this. He was absolutely too good, for his own good, at pushing people's buttons in other situations, but this was- it wasn't like anything else. He wasn't impatient, only eager, and the eagerness was tempered with affection and care and so many other things.
"You've always been so kind." And that meant a lot to him.
Whether Andrew meant it to or not, the thought about school uniforms comes across, and Edward chuckles again. He sends back a very old memory, tattered around its edges and faded, the black and white of the photograph blurry but still recognisable: a framed photo on a piano, of a very young Edward, chubby-cheeked and small, wearing a school uniform and standing on a grand, wrap-around porch. Beside it, there's another framed photo, of a much older but still younger than he is now Edward, his face unscarred and his eyes clear, wearing the long dark robes that Oxford undergraduates wear. Yes, he's familiar with student uniforms.
At the very edge of the memory, glimpsed more than lingered upon, is a third photo, this one of Edward in his military uniform. There isn't time to get a good look at that one before the memory ends, as though it's less important than the other two.
Edward makes a quiet, affirmative sound against Andrew's neck, just under his ear. "People haven't always been kind to me. I want to be better than they were."
Fighting in a war is probably the epitome of unkindness, but it wasn't confined only to that. Little glimpses filter in and out, there and then gone like fish swinging through a stream, none landing long enough to show a concrete visual, but the emotional resonance seeps through. Loneliness, isolation, a feeling of being different, of being other. Then, around the edges and gradually growing until it blots out the dark, negative emotions: brightness, a sense of connection, of family, of love, of belonging. And glimmering at the edges, the sparkles that are unique to Andrew's vibrations alone.
Edward doesn't bother to put it into words. He just snuggles a little closer to Andrew, his breath soft against the side of Andrew's neck, and lets the soft sense of peace wash over him.
He one hundred percent hadn't meant for his thoughts on uniforms to come across, so he promptly blushed. But also, getting to see a young Edward, and then older-but-still-younger-than-now, was worth being flustered. He caught the glimpse of his military uniform too, but he wasn't sure if he should say anything about that one. He knew the war had cost Edward his eyesight, and a whole lot more than that, too. If anything would be a 'difficult conversation', it would be that topic.
He'd been a cute kid though. In comparison, Andrew had been all skinny, gangly limbs and freckles, crooked teeth his family hadn't been able to afford until he was in his teens. He still had freckles, and he was still on the skinny-limb side of things, but he'd filled out well enough.
A little shiver raced down the back of his neck, skin warm and tingling from the warmth of Edward's breath. "I know the feeling," he said softly. "And I'm sorry you do, too." He understood, too, wanting to be better than the people who'd treated him poorly. Andrew wanted that, too. And he wanted to be better than he'd been in the past, personally, to other people. He didn't want to follow the footprints of past mistakes, the potential of so many cruelties he probably hadn't even realized. He wanted to be better.
And...he understood the need for patience, too. Needing a moment to breathe and think, to process and ease into things. He'd be a hypocrite if he couldn't manage the same patience and kindness that he needed, that Edward had shown him. Seeing everything in the vibrations, the colors, the emotions, the fondness, the connection--it was almost as soothing as Edward himself, snuggled up against him. They still made the same warm joy curl in Andrew's chest, and he breathed, easy and content and relaxed, and closed his eyes.
Andrew has freckles? Edward doesn't know this, and would be immensely charmed if he did! He needs to be kept abreast of these things, Andrew! Freckles don't show up in the vibrations.
Edward makes a quiet hum of agreement, but he's starting to slip away too. All the activity has worn him out, and he feels warm, safe, and perfectly at peace for the first time in a long time. He reaches out with one hand to find one of Andrew's, and twine their fingers together. Then he rests their clasped hands on Andrew's chest, where they rise and fall with Andrew's breathing, and snuggles a little closer.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Since losing his sight, touch and tactile sensations have become much more important to Edward. The vibrations certainly fill in gaps and allow him more independence than he could have dreamed of back home, but until recently they lacked colour. It has made him crave touch, and led him to being a great deal more grabby than he would be otherwise. He's learned who in the convoy wants a warning before being touched (Donnie and Serph), who claims to not like it but then reaches out when they think you're not paying attention (Arcade), and who is always down for some casual contact (Leo and Raph). But with Andrew, he doesn't even have to think about it; he just reaches out, knowing he'll be met with affection and touches back.
"It was good, wasn't it? Imagine how well we'll do once we've had more practice."
Edward mouths gently at the side of Andrew's neck, tasting another hint of salt on his skin. He's so content and happy right now that he could melt into Andrew and never leave.
no subject
"There's a lot to practice, too." Which was really an excuse to try things, things he knew he liked, things he didn't know if he liked but he damn well wanted to find out. He wanted to discover things Edward liked, too, naturally, by touch and exploration--and maybe asking on anything he felt was risky, rather than just diving into them.
That reminded him of an earlier thought, one he'd lost in the midst of orgasm, and then drifting in the pleasure, and now catching his breath, and...maybe he wouldn't ask. Maybe he'd end up flustered all over again at the thought of it. Edward did seem to enjoy his claws; it felt wildly obvious not just in physical reactions, but in the vibrations.
"I think this is the one thing where I'm not going to mind studying in the slightest." He grinned. Studying, yes, absolutely not a euphemism at all. Like he wasn't planning on 'studying' Edward's body with his hands and mouth, mapping and remembering sensitive places, the best reactions.
no subject
Pass with distinction, even!
Edward is aware how silly he sounds right now, and laughs against the side of Andrew's neck. Then he curls closer, slinging his leg across Andrew's thighs, holding onto him with both free arms.
"Thank you." He breathes it into Andrew's ear, then kisses his earlobe. "Thank you for being patient with me."
no subject
This was exactly where he wanted to be; tangled together with Edward, warm and happy, so much physical contact, comfortable and easy. He slid a hand along one of Edward's arms, slowly, and he was about to ask 'for what?' when Edward clarified. That warm feeling in Andrew's chest flared hotter.
"Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper. "For being patient with me." They were both new to a lot of things, but it wasn't just that. Andrew was skittish and full of self-doubt and there were just so many things that other people had been far less patient with him about. But not Edward. He'd been nothing but kind and sweet and patient. Andrew wasn't denying Edward's thanks, either, wasn't brushing things aside, just expressing his own gratitude in turn.
The thought of not being patient had never even occurred to him. Andrew wasn't the kind of person to rush or push--not with things like this. He was absolutely too good, for his own good, at pushing people's buttons in other situations, but this was- it wasn't like anything else. He wasn't impatient, only eager, and the eagerness was tempered with affection and care and so many other things.
"You've always been so kind." And that meant a lot to him.
no subject
At the very edge of the memory, glimpsed more than lingered upon, is a third photo, this one of Edward in his military uniform. There isn't time to get a good look at that one before the memory ends, as though it's less important than the other two.
Edward makes a quiet, affirmative sound against Andrew's neck, just under his ear. "People haven't always been kind to me. I want to be better than they were."
Fighting in a war is probably the epitome of unkindness, but it wasn't confined only to that. Little glimpses filter in and out, there and then gone like fish swinging through a stream, none landing long enough to show a concrete visual, but the emotional resonance seeps through. Loneliness, isolation, a feeling of being different, of being other. Then, around the edges and gradually growing until it blots out the dark, negative emotions: brightness, a sense of connection, of family, of love, of belonging. And glimmering at the edges, the sparkles that are unique to Andrew's vibrations alone.
Edward doesn't bother to put it into words. He just snuggles a little closer to Andrew, his breath soft against the side of Andrew's neck, and lets the soft sense of peace wash over him.
no subject
He'd been a cute kid though. In comparison, Andrew had been all skinny, gangly limbs and freckles, crooked teeth his family hadn't been able to afford until he was in his teens. He still had freckles, and he was still on the skinny-limb side of things, but he'd filled out well enough.
A little shiver raced down the back of his neck, skin warm and tingling from the warmth of Edward's breath. "I know the feeling," he said softly. "And I'm sorry you do, too." He understood, too, wanting to be better than the people who'd treated him poorly. Andrew wanted that, too. And he wanted to be better than he'd been in the past, personally, to other people. He didn't want to follow the footprints of past mistakes, the potential of so many cruelties he probably hadn't even realized. He wanted to be better.
And...he understood the need for patience, too. Needing a moment to breathe and think, to process and ease into things. He'd be a hypocrite if he couldn't manage the same patience and kindness that he needed, that Edward had shown him. Seeing everything in the vibrations, the colors, the emotions, the fondness, the connection--it was almost as soothing as Edward himself, snuggled up against him. They still made the same warm joy curl in Andrew's chest, and he breathed, easy and content and relaxed, and closed his eyes.
no subject
Edward makes a quiet hum of agreement, but he's starting to slip away too. All the activity has worn him out, and he feels warm, safe, and perfectly at peace for the first time in a long time. He reaches out with one hand to find one of Andrew's, and twine their fingers together. Then he rests their clasped hands on Andrew's chest, where they rise and fall with Andrew's breathing, and snuggles a little closer.
And then he'll drift off to sleep.