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It’s not often that Charles wants to take Edwin by the shoulders and shake him these days, but he definitely wants to now. It’s something about the superior look on his face—a tricky thing to pull off when half of it’s covered in weird ashy-red powder, but somehow, Edwin manages it.
“Charles, you need to calm down,” he starts, unwisely. “You—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Look at you!”
Edwin glances down at himself and back up again, huffing in annoyance. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. It is merely a bit of dust. I can handle it.”
God, the way his chin sticks out when he’s convinced he’s right. It’s enough to drive Charles mad.
“You like dictionaries too much to know that what just happened is nobody’s fucking definition of ‘handling it.’” He glares at Edwin, matching him for every ounce of stubbornness. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what. The fuck. Was that.”
It’s nowhere in the neighbourhood of a request. Edwin drops Charles’s gaze, gnawing on his lower lip, and doesn’t answer.
“Edwin.” He’s trying not to lose his temper, though it’s difficult. “You walked into a circle designed to find things from Hell. Like, right into it. Without a second thought. And now…”
He trails off, gesturing to Edwin’s body. He looks like someone’s thrown a bucket of greyish-red chalk over one side of him, the colour of depressed bricks.
“I fail to see the issue. As I said, it is only dust.”
Edwin raises a disdainful hand and brushes at his sleeve, the kind of gesture he’s made hundreds of times before when they’ve encountered anything to ruin his perfect appearance, whether real or imaginary, wrinkling his nose in the way that says, Do not be silly, Charles, we will have this righted in a jiffy. But this time, the dust, or whatever it is, doesn’t budge, clinging like it doesn’t want to come off even when he gives his arm a little shake.
“Edwin, you—”
“No matter. I can simply remove it in the usual way.”
Edwin closes his eyes and concentrates, but nothing happens.
“Perhaps I’m too low on energy for it. Don’t fuss, Charles, I shall simply remove the coat and remedy it once I have rested.”
Charles doesn’t want to point out that he didn’t say anything, because it’s taking all his self-control not to flip his lid. It gets substantially worse when Edwin unbuttons his coat to reveal that his jacket, shirt, and trousers are stained in the exact same pattern.
Finally, something slips in Edwin’s expression, a hairline crack in his carefully casual facade.
“What?” he snaps when he catches Charles watching him. “It is clearly some kind of dye. It must have soaked through the coat. I hardly—”
“I'd have a bit more time for that theory if it wasn’t blindingly obvious that that stuff’s not the least bit wet," Charles interrupts him. "Plus, if you could see your face, I think you'd change your mind."
“What’s wrong with my face?”
The words come out a little too quickly as Edwin raises a hand to scrub irritably at his cheek. Afterwards, he examines his glove, but it’s a complete waste of time, because it’s already coated in the same stuff. Rolling his eyes and sighing for good measure, he makes to go and hang up his coat, but Charles grabs his wrist and stops him.
Edwin fixes him with a look of outraged indignation and almost snatches his hand away. Charles holds firm until he’s gripping so hard that Edwin winces, then hastily lets go.
“Nothing, love.” He’s trying to sound relaxed, though he doesn’t know which one of them that’s for. “It’s just…it’s not coming off there either.”
Maybe it’s fine. Maybe it really is dye, or dust. But the closer Charles looks, the worse it is; the patch seems to be spreading, and the skin around it looks blurry, like something underneath it is thinning.
“Charles.” Edwin’s voice has softened a tad, like he’s humouring him. “I can appreciate that you are concerned. However, I feel nothing from this substance. I expect it will wear off in time.”
He’s all business as usual, fussily hanging his coat up with another futile attempt at brushing the marks away. With a frustrated snort, he gives up and pulls off his gloves.
Underneath them, the hand that entered the circle is a dull, ashy red.
For a moment, they both freeze, staring at it. Even Edwin can’t deny there’s something horrible going on now, and to Charles’s relief, he doesn’t try.
Slowly, like Edwin might spook if he moves too fast, Charles joins him by the coatrack, pulling off his own gloves and stuffing them into his coat pocket. Then he hangs his coat over Edwin’s, concealing it from view. At least he can do that much.
With one hand on Edwin’s back, he steers him to the sofa and sits him down on it, sliding an arm around him. They sit there in silence until he can’t hold the words in any longer.
“Why’d you do it?”
Edwin doesn’t answer at first. Then, looking down at his hand as if he’d like to tear it off, so quietly that Charles has to strain to hear him, he says, “I wanted to test whether it would affect me.”
“What?!”
“I…I wanted to know whether that circle would affect me.” Edwin’s voice is muffled into his shoulder. “To test whether I am truly free from Hell.”
Charles isn’t going to think about what it means that Edwin can’t get it off. He isn’t.
“Mate, you can’t treat your own body like a science experiment! And anyway, that lady from the Lost and Found, she promised, yeah? She said that Hell—”
Edwin cuts him off, his voice high and tight. “What if she lied? Or is mistaken? Hell may have the power to override the Lost and Found.”
“And what if you’ve just sent them a clue to where you are and they come and grab you?” Charles’s fingers itch for his bat, and he steadies himself, pushing the echo of horrible twitchy legs scuttling down long, eerie hallways out of his mind. We got him out of there before, we can do it again. “It was a seriously fucking stupid thing to do.”
“I had to know, Charles. Now that we are…involved.” Edwin hesitates. “I cannot put you at risk. If Hell is going to come for me…I want to be prepared.”
Charles takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, clenching and unclenching his fists. It doesn’t help.
“Sorry, love, you’ll have to do more than that if you wanna get rid of me.” He’s doing his best to keep his voice under control, but it’s shaking nonetheless. “I’ll always come after you, no matter what. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t fucking seek them out. Because I can’t—”
He doesn’t want to finish; can’t, even. Instead, he takes Edwin’s stained hand in his and squeezes it. Edwin flinches and tries to pull away, but Charles doesn’t let him, entwining their fingers in a gentle hold.
Christ, it feels better to be touching him. Edwin gives a shaky exhale and squeezes back, sniffing.
“Help me figure it out, Edwin. Why d’you reckon us being together means you need to take more risks?”
Edwin’s face is still buried in Charles’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to want to look up.
“I cannot shake the thought they might come back for me, and take you too. Hell doesn’t give up on its property easily. From the state of me, you have to admit I have a point.”
“So, what, you’ll just jump into the first Hell circle you see? Make it make sense to me, Edwin, because I can’t work out why me loving you more means you need to take worse care of yourself than ever.”
Charles presses a kiss to Edwin’s discoloured knuckles, holding it for a few seconds as Edwin sighs and leans closer into him. Edwin’s skin feels like it always does, cool and smooth under Charles’s lips, but then Charles considers the possible consequences of making contact with the dust. His panic doesn’t improve when he lowers their hands, trying to keep the movement as smooth as possible, and notices something that makes his stomach drop.
“Edwin,” he says, aiming for calm and missing by about a mile. “This is gonna sound weird, but could you check something for me?”
That’s enough to make Edwin lift his head, his eyes wet and miserable, eyebrows arched in a silent question.
“Could you…could you have a look at my mouth and tell me if anything’s changed?”
Usually, Edwin staring so intently at his lips would be the sign of something very promising to come, but this time, his expression’s so serious and worried that it’s almost funny. He squints intently at Charles before leaning back and saying, “Nothing unusual. I don’t—”
“Thank fuck for that.”
Charles holds up their still-joined hands, showing a confused Edwin what he spotted a minute ago: a perfect lip print across his knuckles, an island of pale, elegant skin standing out among the greyish-red. Edwin stops talking and blinks, his gaze flicking between his hand and Charles’s mouth a few times. Then he lets go and examines it closely, the mottled patches leaving him in no doubt.
Everywhere Charles was touching him, the stain has faded.
Neither of them moves for a second. Then Edwin takes Charles’s hand again, watching as more of the horrible, dead-looking colour fades underneath his fingertips. His normal skintone is gradually emerging, like grass after a thaw—but only where Charles’s skin touches his. His clothing, where he’s leaning against him, is unchanged.
Edwin stares intently at the place where their bodies meet, a slight tremor in his hand as he nearly crushes Charles’s fingers.
“I don’t understand. Why is this happening?”
“Obvious, innit?” Charles’s mouth is working faster than his brain. “Hell marked you, but it can’t stick, because…because you’re not theirs. You’re mine.”
He didn’t mean it to sound so possessive, but Edwin actually gives a tiny gasp, his eyes widening.
Oh. He likes that. Prim, proper, fiercely independent Edwin Payne likes the idea of belonging to him.
All of a sudden, there’s a new kind of tension in the room. Not fear, not dread; more like expectation. Charles holds Edwin’s gaze carefully, like it might shatter if he gets this wrong. He can feel his cheeks heating up, a moment of indecision, before he says, “Want me to prove it?”
Edwin glances back down at his hand, at the stain creeping under his jacket sleeve, then raises his chin in a challenge.
“How would you do that?”
Charles swallows. “I’ll get rid of it all. With…with my hands. And my mouth.”
He runs a thumb over Edwin’s wrist, leaving it up to him, and Edwin answers him by leaning forward and kissing him. It’s gentle, almost tentative, though there’s a hunger behind it, something frightened and desperate. When he pulls away, he stares anxiously at Charles’s face like he’s checking for marks, then finally nods, leaning back against the sofa, clearly thinking hard. There’s a little streak under one eye where Charles’s nose brushed him that’s both cute and distracting, which Charles tries not to stare at as Edwin speaks again.
“I suppose we are to assume these...blemishes cover every part of me that entered the circle?”
“One way to find out, isn’t there?” Charles gives Edwin a chance to object, but he doesn’t, so he presses on. “D’you wanna go next door and have a proper check? Only…I can’t promise it won’t end up. You know.”
Edwin fixes him with a sceptical look.
“Well, that would certainly be one of your more novel methods of enticing me into bed.”
“Oi! You’re the one who stepped into that circle, not me. I’m doing this for your benefit. And there’s easier ways to get me to go to bed with you than stepping into a Hell circle, for the record.”
“Such as?”
Charles traces a finger over Edwin’s palm. “Such as being in the same room as me.”
Edwin’s eyes go soft. “Charles.”
“What?! It’s true! Just cut to the chase and take your shirt off next time. It’ll have the same effect and we won’t have to deal with the threat of eternal damnation first.”
He’s trying to be funny, but his voice wobbles, and Edwin puts a hand on his arm, his head hanging apologetically.
“I’m sorry. It was rash of me. I appreciate that now.”
“Yeah, it was. But c’mon, I don’t wanna dwell on it. Let’s see if I can help you instead.”
He’s developing a theory about how this all works, but this isn’t the time. They can talk about it afterwards. For now, he leads Edwin through the wall to their bedroom, then turns to face him, following his lead. Although it’s been long enough that they’re used to seeing each other naked, Edwin seems nervous, even shy, one hand fidgeting awkwardly with his bowtie. Charles reaches out and stills it, squeezing his fingers.
“I’ll do it too. That way we’ll both be the same.” He winks. “Efficiency, innit? And just in case we decide we want to do something else later.”
That sort of talk usually makes Edwin laugh, or at least roll his eyes. Now, however, he only looks worried.
“But what—”
Charles shushes him with his index finger, pressing slightly against Edwin’s lips.
“Whatever it looks like, I don’t care. It won’t make me love you any less.”
Edwin considers this for a tick, then finally gives a little nod and starts unfastening his shirt buttons.
“Good lad.”
Charles copies him, careful to keep his expression neutral as Edwin reveals his body; tricky, because it’s hard not to wince at the sight of the marks on him. The leg that entered the circle is entirely covered. There’s a jagged slash along his chest and torso, too, though the edges of it appear to be blurring, like ink sprinkled with water. The words fall out before he can stop himself.
“Do they hurt?”
Edwin shakes his head, fidgeting unhappily.
“It itches. I feel as if my skin is crawling. Are you positive you did not feel anything when you—?”
More evidence for his theory. “Not a thing, love. And look, you can see it’s not spreading to me.”
Showing his unmarked palms to prove it, Charles reaches for Edwin, one hand on his ribcage, the other on his cheek, guiding him down to the bed. Everywhere he’s touching him, the discolouration fades, and it’s extremely satisfying to watch it receding under his fingers. He wishes he could get rid of the fear as easily.
“You’re as gorgeous as ever, no matter what they did to you,” he says quietly. “Now, you set the pace, OK? How d’you wanna do this? Should I start at the top and keep going?”
“That sounds sensible.”
Edwin still looks tense, shoulders tight and a deep crease across his brow. Charles starts there, brushing his lips over his forehead. He strokes Edwin’s hair, trying to get at his scalp. Edwin loves head massages, and as Charles tugs lightly, the pressure firm, but not rough, he feels him start to unwind. He keeps kissing him, enjoying the flutter of Edwin’s eyelashes as he nuzzles around his nose and cheekbones.
When Charles gets to Edwin’s throat and noses around his collarbones, Edwin makes a tiny whimpering noise, which makes it much harder to hold back. By the time he reaches his chest, Charles has abandoned all pretence and is straight-up licking him, even sucking kisses into skin that was pristine to start with.
Once Charles’s mouth is over his heart, Edwin puts a hand on his head and holds it, playing gently with his earring. There’s no heartbeat there, of course, but Charles pretends he can hear one anyway, curling into Edwin’s side and aching with love for him.
I’m here, and I’m never letting you go.
He’s made good progress on the stain now; there’s no trace of it on this side of Edwin’s body above the waist. Just as well, because Charles is dizzyingly hard, and Edwin’s in the same state. He looks almost embarrassed about it, the delicate flush high on his cheekbones a welcome substitute for the horrible ashy-red smudge. When he speaks, his voice is a dry rasp.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
Charles blinks. “What for? It’s not like I mind. Think I’d be more miffed if you didn’t get a bit turned on, actually.”
“But I shouldn’t…” Edwin clears his throat. “I don’t want to distract you.”
“S’all right, I can multitask. Comes with the territory of getting naked with the bloke you fancy most in the world.” He throws Edwin a conspiratorial grin, which widens at Edwin’s huff of surprise. “And I dunno about you, but this feels like the biggest ‘fuck you’ we could possibly give ‘em.”
Edwin laughs shakily. “There is that. And as ever, you do it with style.”
“You wanna carry on?”
“Y-yes, if you’re sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure. But the minute you’re not, you tell me, OK? Turn over and let’s check your back.”
Wordlessly, Edwin obeys. A lot of the work’s been done here, merely by virtue of Charles not being able to keep from touching Edwin as he’s been kissing him, though there’s a few spots here and there. Once he’s finished running his fingers over them, Charles finally gives in to temptation and plants a row of kisses down Edwin’s back, occasionally grazing him with his teeth. Edwin shivers, making pleased little sounds and twitches, but when Charles reaches the base of his spine, he stills.
“Charles. There cannot possibly be anything there.”
There isn’t, but Edwin doesn’t know that. Anyway, it’s the perfect excuse to try something he’s been wanting to do for a while.
“How d’you know? You can’t see.”
“Charles…,” Edwin starts, his words trailing off into a part-growl, part-groan as Charles gently pushes his legs apart and glides his tongue lower, the tip teasing around the furled muscle.
Edwin’s never made that noise before, and it instantly becomes one of Charles’s favourites. He repeats the movement, slower this time, and is rewarded with Edwin moaning, “Oh, oh,” and pushing back into it.
Encouraged, he keeps going, working his tongue further in and eventually a finger alongside it, searching for the spot that always makes Edwin wail. Sure enough, when he finds it, Edwin nearly jolts off the bed, his cries abruptly switching from low and guttural to high-pitched and loud. Really loud. Saliva dribbles down Charles’s chin and onto Edwin’s thighs as Edwin pleads for more, clutching the bedclothes and panting desperately whenever he takes a break from the amazing racket he’s making.
Charles doesn’t even get a chance to touch Edwin’s dick in the end: he’s so needy for it he starts rutting into the blankets, chasing the friction he so clearly craves. Before long, he’s gasping, tensing up and coming hard. Lifting his head, Charles sees him all but sinking into the mattress, a wet patch blooming beside him, boneless, wrung-out, and with a look of such deep satisfaction he can practically hear him purring.
Smugness and tenderness jostle for position in Charles’s chest at the sight of Edwin like this, soft and dazed and overwhelmed by pleasure. He shuffles up the bed so he can lie behind him, cuddling in close, his lips brushing the back of his neck.
“You enjoyed that, then?”
Edwin doesn’t move.
“I believe I was fairly unequivocal.”
It’s an ambitious word for someone whose speech is slightly slurred. Charles sniggers.
“You could say that. I don’t mind, though. S’brills, hearing you enjoy yourself.” Edwin’s ears turn pink. Can’t have that. “I mean it. Love knowing I can do that to you. Best feeling in the world.”
Mollified, Edwin sighs, snuggling into Charles’s hold as they lie there, their legs and hands tangling together. Charles idly wonders whether he should get started on Edwin’s leg now—he sort of lost his focus towards the end there, and all the contact they’ve had so far probably hasn’t been quite enough to clear it. He’s just pondering whether he should move when Edwin breaks into his thoughts.
“You’re still—”
For a second, Charles has to think about what he means, and then he registers Edwin pressing back against his cock, which gives an excited twitch. He’s about to say he doesn’t mind waiting—not exactly true, but he doesn’t want to leave things half-done—when Edwin rolls his hips again, a little more persuasively, and all right, maybe he’s starting to come around to the idea.
“It would be rather…ungentlemanly of me to leave you wanting, would it not?”
“Gentlemanly, this, is it?” Heat starts creeping down Edwin’s neck, and Charles softens the tease with a kiss. “Only if you’re up to it, love. I reckon you’ve had quite enough to—oh.”
Edwin shifts, creating an inviting gap between his thighs, the perfect space for Charles to settle into. He gives Charles perhaps half a second to consider it before he’s huffing impatiently and reaching down to guide him there, like he’s being thick. Charles nips at Edwin’s shoulder to show him he’s got it, thanks very much, and rocks forward, a steadying hand on Edwin’s hip.
They don’t often fuck like this, only when Edwin’s too overstimulated or impatient for proper penetration, but now, it’s amazing; hot and tight, with enough precome and slickness from Charles’s earlier activities that he can slide right into it. Edwin presses his legs together around Charles’s prick, pushing back slowly to start a deep, filthy grind, the feeling quickly growing so intense that Charles loses the ability to form proper sentences.
“Yeah, OK, yeah,” he groans. “Mmm, that’s…ah, you—”
Edwin turns his head to try to kiss him, but it’s clumsy and uncoordinated, so he stops trying and just watches him instead, his eyes hazy with emotion.
“My Charles,” he whispers. “My protector.”
“Mine, not theirs,” Charles whispers back fiercely, and he knows it doesn’t really make sense, but he sees a flash of understanding pass across Edwin’s face.
“Show me,” he says. “Show me, darling.”
Charles whines loudly and comes, spilling all over Edwin’s thighs and arse, making a proper mess of them both. He makes another move for Edwin’s mouth and lands it this time, sucking on his tongue in a kiss that has them both moaning and grabbing at each other as the aftershocks ripple through their bodies. Charles sees stars; no, he sees Edwin, safe in his arms and cleansed again, thanks to him.
They end up nose to nose, nuzzling and occasionally kissing. Charles runs his foot lazily along Edwin’s calf, hoping to catch whatever he hasn’t taken care of so far. Beside him, Edwin seems to be thinking the same: he rolls over and sits up, and for the next couple of minutes, he inspects himself for any sign of the marks. Charles helps, mostly with his hands, going over every inch of him until they’re both satisfied he’s completely clear. Giddy with relief, he can’t help teasing him a bit.
“Guess I kissed it better, eh? I didn’t know that worked.”
“Indeed. I am quite returned to normal. Merely the more mundane cleanup to go.”
Charles laughs and focuses on removing the traces of stickiness from himself as Edwin does the same. There’s a lightness to him now that that stuff’s all gone, like a weight’s been lifted, though the sex probably helped—it’s a surefire way to chill him out, and not exactly a hardship.
They stay close for a moment, foreheads touching. When they break apart, Edwin says, “I’m sorry I frightened you. I shall exercise more caution in future. It is simply…I have so much more to lose than I did before.”
There’s a soft look on his face, and it makes something catch in Charles’s throat.
“You’re not the only one, love.” He strokes a hand down Edwin’s cheek, brushing the corner of his mouth. “So for that reason alone, don’t go looking for trouble, OK? We find plenty of it on our own.”
“That we do. But yes, I promise.”
“Plus, between me and the Lost and Found, Hell’s not getting a look in. I know Charlie isn’t our biggest fan, but she filed that paperwork, didn’t she? And….” Charles takes a deep breath, making sure to do this next part carefully, “I reckon some of the stuff with that dust was in your head.”
Edwin frowns. “How can it have been? We both saw it. And I felt it. It made me itch.”
“Did you, though, before you knew it was there? You told me in the office that you didn’t feel anything. It wasn’t until you saw it on your skin that you changed your mind.” Edwin opens his mouth to argue, and Charles presses on so he can’t interrupt. “Don’t you think that means it was…what’s the word for when your brain makes things happen?”
“Psychosomatic.”
“Psychosomatic, that’s the one. At least a bit?”
Hoping against hope that he’s right, Charles leans down and picks up Edwin’s jacket from the floor. Just as he’d guessed, it’s completely clean.
“See, if it was really as simple as Hell marking you, your clothes’d still be covered too, yeah? Like they were when you took them off.”
Edwin takes his jacket and examines it closely, unable to find any fault with it no matter how hard he squints: it’s back to the familiar grey-blue pinstripe, the wool as soft-looking and refined as ever.
“How…?”
Charles is still figuring that out, but he hasn’t been wrong so far. “Look, you spent seventy years down there, and that left a mark. But it’s gone now. So maybe it was less of a claim and more of…of a scar.”
“It was definitely a claiming circle,” Edwin muses. “I recognised the runes. In order to break it, there would need to be a stronger claim to override the weaker one.”
“Stronger, am I?” Charles grins. “I’ll take that compliment. Says you believe in Hell, but you believe in me more.”
Edwin gazes at him fondly. “I should imagine that was obvious by now. There is nothing I have more faith in than you. In fact, I rather think I have been yours since the moment we met.”
Nothing makes Charles glow like Edwin saying things like that, even though it shouldn’t surprise him any more. He feels about ten feet tall.
“Wish you’d never had to go through it in the first place. Know I can’t make all that go away, but I’m glad I can help.”
Leaning forward, he pulls Edwin into a slow, deep kiss, the kind he was talking about when he said he’d miss kissing all those years ago. Edwin melts into it immediately, a shiver running through him as his hands twist in Charles’s hair, relaxed and happy and just a tad flustered. Unable to resist, Charles lowers him back to the bed, his arms closing tight around him. He soaks in the warmth of Edwin’s body, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and marvels at how lucky he is that this sexy, brilliant, infuriating genius has chosen him, of all people, to stick with.
“You’re safe now, love,” he murmurs, as Edwin curls into him with a contented sigh. “I’ve got you.”
Edwin looks back at him with such open trust it’d take Charles’s breath away, if he had any, and settles a little closer.
“Indeed, it is just as you said. Whatever claim they have, it has nothing on yours.”