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Summary
“Do you want me, Andrew?” He speaks low, but he speaks firm, a hand idly rising to cup his chin, forcing his gaze to remain on him.
He swallows, “I shouldn’t…”
“I can almost admire your dedication…” He feels Edgar’s thumb drag over his lower lip, it feels fond, and it makes his heart swoop, “If it weren’t so misplaced.”
He leans down, so close his lips almost touch his own, Andrew leans forward to meet him, only able to brush his against Edgar’s before he pulls away.
“You could worship him, the one who has never once answered you, the one who has held nothing but empty promises above your head...but you could worship me, instead, and I can give you what you want right now...”