through the brimming hole of my fickle heart

relax

A/n: i edited this way too much already lol. enjoy the additional content

---

It's in these moments that Eddy feels a unique kind of bliss.

It's different from when they perform together on stage, duets upon duets, transforming magically into Brett's dream woman that saves him from embarrassment, and quite the severe case of the shaky bow (the wig does everything for Eddy, to be honest, but he still makes an spectacular effort to show his feminine side). It's a little bit more than their videos that are fun, natural, and are already quite suggestive on their own.

He doesn't admit it aloud but it's pretty obvious anyway. Every touch is conscious and sends his head spinning, heart pumping in erratic beats too difficult to keep count...and well, Brett knows too.

When Brett's this close, and he absolutely knows he's his. Under the sheets, lights off.

Kissing each other senseless.

It's like this, when Brett is moving beneath him in the darkness, easy and unhurried, maintaining a steady rhythm while their mouths smooth against each other (every inch of contact - oh, it feels scalding and electric inside). They've been kissing for how long - a few minutes, maybe. Time slows down at every touch, and from the very first instance their lips met, they've already lost track.

Both are clouded with the slow desire for each other's lips, hands searching all over, feeling each other. And at Eddy's touch - legs lightly grazing against his thighs, hand smoothing Brett's soft locks, lips against softer ones, moving...he moans and feels blood rushing south, and then Brett is moaning back, low and sensual, and it's secretly driving him mad because it's intimate and it's Brett's voice, shit.

There's no tongue involved yet - they're just sharing air, really - but it already feels this good. Eddy is wary of the elbow supporting his weight and fears he might collapse-or worse, voluntarily giving in and not end up with any self-control left. They kiss slowly, and Eddy forgets that he needs to breathe, and he thinks Brett might've forgotten too -

Suddenly they break apart, and Eddy feels that abrupt change in pace. He heaves deep against his own rapidly beating chest, facing away as he opens his eyes half-lidded in the moonlit bedroom.

It's okay, because they're taking their time. They have the whole night to themselves, and it's more than enough time for the simple, primal pleasures they want to fulfill.

He doesn't need to see Brett to know that he is feeling as much need - he already does from his sharp intakes of breath and the slight trembling of his fingers, stroking Eddy's abdomen through the thin fabric of his shirt. He knows that they both feel and want as much, so he strives to muster as much composure as he possibly can in hopes of having less opportunities to mess up, but he has this looming premonition that he will anyway, inevitably. It's not like they did this often, even if they have been romantically together for quite a while now - tonight just clicked when tender words were exchanged and they decided to close the distance. He is contented however with holding Brett close like this, with their faces mere centimeters apart, fingers tentatively laced through his lover's hair. He takes the time to cool his head off, and after a minute or so their breaths are finally in sync.

Occasionally, Eddy thinks about it - he knows that they were already intimate as friends, with the proximity and amicable touching. He thinks these things are natural and unwarranted, simply proof of how comfortable they are with one another. However, they aren't as intimate as other couples - kissing, even? Still unfamiliar, but they have time to know and explore, and it becomes more exhilarating as they go on figuring out what works for them.