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"Yeah," he breathes, smiling, and plucks at their own shirt. "Can I --?"

"Course!" Rowan noses against Edgar's cheek and kisses him there softly as they pull his shirt off first, pulling it off and tossing it to one side. When they sit back they trail their hand along his chest, admiring him as they do.

Then they raise their own arms to help Edgar remove their own shirt. Underneath they're just as slender as touch suggested, but there's a hint of a curve on their chest, a touch of softness on their otherwise firm form. They do watch him as they're revealed, though, hoping that he appreciates the unusual lines of their body, the feminine curve of their waist balanced out by the straight lines of their hips.

Edgar's been here long enough that his starvation-diet scrawniness has started to fill out a little, and all the old bruises have faded to yellow and the cuts to near-invisible lines. There's still next to no softness on him, all wiry muscle over bone.

And oh, he very much appreciates the much more pleasant sight Rowan presents. Yes, it's unusual, subtle curves turning into straighter lines, not a boy's body and not a girl's -- but the unexpectedness doesn't look wrong to him, it looks exactly right. If he had to explain the harmoniousness of it, he'd have to say something like: it fits with itself, is what, and with the person who lives in it. It's Rowan.

"Beautiful," he breathes, not quite meaning to, and runs a hand over Rowan's shoulder.

Edgar's flattery has Rowan fluttering their eyelashes, leaning into his hand in pleasure. There are many ways to their heart, but appreciating their body for what it is will get you far. Turning their head, they place a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of Edgar's hand.

"You're looking good too." They praise, running their hands up Edgar's chest again, this time following their progress. It's so good to see a bit of weight on his bones, when he first arrived Rowan would have been worried that there'd be nothing of him under his clothes. With that thought in mind, they lean forward to kiss his collar bone, tracing the length of it with their lips, and then grazing their teeth lightly over his shoulder.

"Mmmmm ..." He leans into that touch, flattening his hands against Rowan's back to pull them closer, sliding one up to cup the back of their neck.

Almost unconsciously, he grinds up against the warm, welcome weight of them on his lap.

Rowan answers with a groan and a roll of their own hips, rocking back against him eagerly. They love the sensation so much, Edgar's heat underneath them, his body exposed to their wandering hands - not to mention theirs to his. Tipping their head up again, they kiss him once more, nipping on his lip lightly as they slide their body along his lap again.

Edgar sinks into the kiss like he doesn't care if he ever comes up again, one hand sliding up into Rowan's hair, the other down to the small of their back to pull them closer still, skin against skin. Nothing else in the world feels this kind of good, not even here.

Rowan has to agree, there’s just something about the tactile sensation of being skin to skin, the intimacy of being able to feel every flutter of breath, each heartbeat almost. They’re more than happy to be held against Edgar and to fall into the kiss. But their hands don’t still, wandering distracted lines over his back again, working lower and lower, until their fingers encounter his waistband and trail along it, round his hip, until they’re forced to return back the way they came by their own body.

Eventually it's lack of air that makes Edgar draw back from the kiss and instead rest his forehead against Rowan's, eyes half closed, panting for breath. Luxuriating, for a little longer, in the feel of Rowan's hands on his back.

His own hands, very slowly, start wandering lower.

As Edgar's hands wander lower, Rowan's breath catches again, and they suck their stomach (what little there is of it) in as they breathe in deeply. It doesn't last for long, they don't enough air for that right now, but they wiggle in his lap again and push into him, trying to encourage them lower still.

And while they do lean against him for a moment, their breath warm on his cheek while they catch up as well, soon they're on the move again, their lips trailing over Edgar's cheek, and then over his ear, alternating soft kisses and little nips, determined to taste every part of him that they can reach.

It feels enough like a positive reaction that he doesn't slow or stop to ask, but reaches further down -- sliding over the waistband of Rowan's trousers, rather than trying to squeeze under it -- and cups both hands around their behind, squeezing gently.

"Mmmhm ..." He tilts his head to give Rowan's mouth better access to his ear, and perhaps his neck if that interests them.

Groaning as Edgar grabs their arse, Rowan lifts themself just enough to give him more space, rubbing themself against him again with the motion. And creating enough of a gap for their hands to ease between them, dancing over the top of his waistband, thumb flicking underneath it to stroke hidden skin.

They take the opportunity to kiss over his neck as well, right down to where it meets his shoulder, and then curving their back slightly to start to work their way further down, lips brushing over his collar bone, and then down from there.

Edgar exhales hard, like a silent moan, as Rowan grinds against him again; their mouth traveling down his neck to his chest makes him actually vocalize on the next breath, something between a moan and a hum of arousal.

He leans back, hands kneading their ass and then sliding down their thighs, to give them room to keep going.

Those noises only encourage Rowan further and they shift a bit further now his hands have moved so they can curve down even further. Despite the awkward position, they move easily, trailing across Edgar's body to kiss further down on the other side of him. One hand comes to rest on his hip, balancing themself there and holding him in place, and the other hand moves up to brush over one nipple, just as they reach the other with their lips. As they tease both, they glance up to see his response, to see if they should linger here longer or continue on their hungry journey down his body.

He makes that same sound again, a little louder and a little higher in pitch, his hands tightening involuntarily on their thighs; his head is tilted back in bliss, eyes shut, mouth a little open.

"Oh that's good," he breathes unsteadily, "that's, yeah --"

There's just something about hearing a partner's pleasure that drives Rowan wild. They could spend all day trying to eek such delicious sounds from Edgar - at least, they could if they weren't so needy themself. Rowan pauses on his chest, lured there for now by his moans, parting their lips to circle and then lap at one nipple, while they capture the other between thumb and finger, gently rolling it. Their touches are all softness, no pinching and sharpness, luxuriating Edgar in their affection.

"Ahhhh ..." Edgar sways back and then forward again under their touch, fighting the impulse to just topple backward onto the bed. He can't quite do that anyway, though, not with Rowan's legs wrapped around him at the waist.

He lets go of their thighs and slides his hands around their back instead, wanting warm skin under his hands again.

Rowan needs to unhook their legs if they want to slide any further down anyway, which they very much do. So catching that sway, they lap over his nipple once more, then shift in his lap, shifting so they're kneeling over him. They can't rock against him so easily like this, but since if they get a chance they'll shortly slide out of Edgar's lap altogether, that's less of an issue right now.

With that done, they swap sides, lips going to the nipple that their fingers were on before and visa versa. They nip down ever so lightly, then suckle lightly, before going back to circling it with their tongue. The other one gets rolled between their fingers, then pinched softly.

He gasps, and shivers palpably under their fingers. "Hhhhhh ... so good, Rowan, yeah ..."

His own hands flex at Rowan's back, fingernails scratching in light circles again. He wants to bring his hands to their chest in turn, but can't at this angle, not with them bent to lavish attention on his.

Those finger nails on Rowan's back feel amazing, but not as good as Edgar moaning their name, and they moan in response. They drop their hand from his chest, slowly wandering down, over his stomach, and down to the waistband of his trousers where they stop.

As they hit fabric, they reluctantly pull away from his chest too, coming back up level with him, their breath warm on his. "Edgar... I want to suck your cock." Their eyes are dark, and their eyelashes flutter as they glance down between them, biting their lip as they restrain themself. Their fingers fiddle with the fly of his trousers - not undoing it yet, not without permission, but ready to.

His cock jumps under their hand in response, and he swears barely audibly under his ragged breath. "Shit. Yeah, go on. Wait --"

That means, he's realized, he's going to have to take his hands off of them so they can move. And before that happens, he's going to pull them in for one more deep kiss, wrapping his arms around them and drawing them close, bare chest to bare chest.

"Okay," he breathes when the kiss breaks, and lets go.

Eagerly pressing up into the kiss, Rowan takes advantage of it to reach down with their other hand as well and open up his trousers. They pause then, though, getting lost in the kiss for a moment as they lean into him, drinking in the sensation of closeness.

When it breaks, they nuzzle against Edgar's cheek for a moment, before pulling away again, sliding off his lap in one smooth movement and going down on their knees in front of him. One hand reaches under the bed, dragging the basket there closer so they can rummage through for a condom, as they press their lips to the inside of his thigh near his knee, working their way up over his trousers.

Edgar closes his hands on the edge of the bed, panting slightly in arousal and anticipation. When Rowan kisses the inside of his thigh he twitches, hard and involuntarily.

He wants to urge them to hurry, but no, he's going to be patient. He can be patient.

... At least a little longer, surely.

He won't have to be patient too much longer. Putting the condom down on the bed beside them, Rowan kisses their way up until they can press a feather light kiss over the bulge in Edgar's trousers. They leaning away to give themself space, they slip both hands under his waist band, using one to lift it out of the way and slide it down, while the other gently takes hold of his cock for the first time, easing it out to give themself access.

They purr to see it, running their fingers over it's length, licking their lips eagerly. But there's something they need to do before they can start giving Edgar the attention he deserves, and after settling his trousers back down around his erection, they reach back for the condom, undoing it so they can start to roll it on.

He shuts his eyes hard when Rowan takes hold of him, forces himself to exhale slowly.

The condom is a little unsettling to him; even though he has a pretty good idea what one is, he hasn't used one before and isn't sure how it'll feel. But he trusts Rowan, so he'll hold still for it unless it starts to hurt.

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