[Stede leans so easily against his hand. There's an easy, mindless trust to the action, the way Edward vaguely remembers a young lamb once pressing against his palm in an innocent bid for affection.
Fingers ghost gently at his own throat, and Edward finds that he doesn't shift away from the gentle contact. Things feel steady, for a few heartbeats; balanced and easy, as if the world could be contained between their delicately poised hands.]
Good.
[Another lingering moment, fingers drifting absently so the knuckles brush against the cheek of the man standing over him, and then Edward slumps comfortably back down with a contented sigh. Another heartbeat, and his eyes drift shut.
(They'd eaten the beast the next day. At the time, that had been the warmer, happier memory.)]
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Fingers ghost gently at his own throat, and Edward finds that he doesn't shift away from the gentle contact. Things feel steady, for a few heartbeats; balanced and easy, as if the world could be contained between their delicately poised hands.]
Good.
[Another lingering moment, fingers drifting absently so the knuckles brush against the cheek of the man standing over him, and then Edward slumps comfortably back down with a contented sigh. Another heartbeat, and his eyes drift shut.
(They'd eaten the beast the next day. At the time, that had been the warmer, happier memory.)]