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Ed could never claim to be religious, but something about this felt like sacrilege.
His hands were careful as they ran the soap across Ling's back. He remembers this. The slight scratch of the cheap rag, the faint scent of the soap that he couldn't really name, and the jagged skin beneath his palm. It was different from the rest, which was smooth as can be from pampering fit for a prince. It made sense in theory, and yet the stark difference between them felt electrifying.
Ling's head was bowed low, the bun sitting loosely on the top of his head, just a bit lopsided. He felt fuzzy at the edges, like his skin could dissolve into the water. It was unreal; subtle, but indistinct.
Ed's hands ran across again, from the small of Ling's back to his shoulder blades. His thumb rubs in circles absentmindedly, not a clue what he was doing but doing it anyway, and Ling let him. Ling always seemed to just let him. The thought made his heart flutter, made his thoughts race all the way back to cute like it did the first time.
And Ed didn't need the cliche hints to know what the feeling was this time around. He didn't understand it back then, but he gets it now, what love feels like to him. He always thought that it would be something he couldn't miss. Like it was something that would blow up in his face out of the blue, like a crush.
Love doesn't do that for a guy like him. No, it settles over his shoulders like a friend he met a week ago but felt like he's known a decade. Never does its presence alarm him, never does he suspect that it hadn't always been there. It was there now and he didn't question it until he truly looks and sees the features are different than he thought they were.
Fingers intertwined with his own at the apex of Ling's shoulder. It wasn't hesitant or slow. It was almost casual with how deliberate the action was. Then Ling was turning to face him. Hand as a promise, the rest of him following through and then there… Oh.
Lips. On his own.
Ed's brain turned to mush. Nothing really made sense other than this. Like it should be happening. Soft and a little chapped, not that different from his own. The press was gentle, void of hesitation or second guessing as if it was always going to end like this. Somehow, they both knew that. Don't ask how Ed knew that.
The kiss was soft and almost familiar. Like Ling knew that he could draw a shudder if he bit or how Ed thought nothing of it when his own free hand ended up around Ling's back. It was languid but insistent and Ed felt hot. Really hot.
His hand felt like it was burning under Ling's grip and that feeling slithering to his chest and his stomach was twisting into knots and it was so hot. Ed didn't know when the kiss got deeper, or when exactly he closed his eyes. It was like he woke up in the middle of his wishful thinking to find it wasn't just a thought at all.
The burning pressed low in his gut. Maybe that was in relation to how Ling's hand cupped his hip. Did it matter? How much did Ed care to put any higher thought into why he liked it?
Not nearly as much as how he cared about Ling's tightening grip on his hand.
The water swished around them. If Ed didn't have static ringing in his ears, maybe Ling's sighs would do that as well. He was kneeling so close to the other, leaning so far in that he just barely noticed them sinking into what should've been shallow water.
Floating. It felt like floating. Or was it sinking? Did he care as much as he cared about the kiss? Or the hand trailing from his hip to his spine and to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer?
Ed wanted to be closer. Damn the need to breathe.
Ed pulled back, just enough to move to Ling's jaw. To press kiss after kiss and trailing down as far as he dared until his lips met scar tissue. Ling let him, because he was always letting him and even encouraging him with the tilt of his head.
And who cares if Ed choked on the water or not, it didn't stop him from laying warm kisses to that vulnerable throat. It wouldn't stop him from pressing closer until he couldn't tell who was who anymore. This was what he wanted. It was almost blasphemous to think, but it was true all the same.
Ed wanted. He wanted them to become indistinguishable from each other when they were like this. To sink beneath skin, beneath muscle and bone until he could fuse with Ling's bone marrow and make blood for him. Keep him alive, keep him provided for and protected.
Ed knows carnal desire. He never understood it before. Now he does.
It made him feel a little crazy. A little insane, because Ling kept his heart pumping at inadvisable speeds, he kept him breathing beneath the hundred feet deep water that should've been only two. They kept on sinking and sinking, but it didn't matter because there were hands in his hair and on his skin and Ed burned with the want to never be seen again hidden within Ling and—-
Waking up hadn't been as sudden as it seemed.
His eyes blinked open, slowly and almost thoughtfully like they were contemplating falling shut again. Sink back into the languid warmth he left. Everything felt janky and like Ed wasn't quite all there yet.
Honestly, he didn't really want to be there yet.
If he could, he would close his eyes and pick up where he left off. It was unfinished. The storyline felt disjointed like his brain couldn't decide what to treat him with next. It ended too soon for him.
Ed didn't move. Not an inch. He stayed sprawled out on his back, hand under his shirt and staring dazedly up at the ceiling. Because he knows that if he moves, he'll start to forget. He didn't want to forget, that would be the real nightmare.
So, Ed replayed the dream in his mind, trying and trying to remember every image and feeling, every touch and the pressure he felt when going under and caring not one bit. Ed never understood carnal desire. Not until after meeting Ling at least.
It wasn't what he thought it was. Probably not what it actually was to the majority either. It wasn't just the desire to touch and consume. It was the want to be one, to be only; to covet without repercussion. He thinks he gets it now, more than before.
He spends hours there, committing every detail to memory. Then he gets up, showers off the night and tells no one.
Because his carnal desire told him that this was his. One and only.