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"Come here," Gumshoe says, his voice commanding, and Edgeworth shivers, wonders for a moment if he should feign opposition (but decides in the end that he'd rather obey).
Gumshoe is so beautiful, fully clothed save for his jacket and tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone as if to give Edgeworth easy access to his neck. Though, kisses aren't on the agenda tonight, not until Edgeworth has atoned for his sins (and Edgeworth has plenty of sins to atone for, though Gumshoe doesn't care about more than a few).
"Sure, I'll take you out of your head if you'd like, but once you're forgiven, you've gotta let go."
It's easier said than done, though with time, perhaps, Edgeworth thinks he can manage. And besides….the rules he broke this time he broke on purpose, desperate to satiate his burning need to find himself here, again, at Gumshoe's firm but gentle mercy (and Gumshoe is always gentle, no matter how infuriatingly so), undressed before his lover in more ways than one.
Submitting to Gumshoe is easy — as easy as submitting to a warm bath at the end of a very long day. A necessity and an indulgence all at once — warm, comfortable and cleansing, both for the body and for the mind.
Edgeworth steps forward, naked save for his boxers, and places himself standing between Gumshoe's knees where the larger man sits on the edge of the bed. "Good boy," Gumshoe croons, sending shivers tingling down Edgeworth's spine, dread and delight mingling alike as he waits with bated breath for what's to come.
He longs for it, after all. He longs to let go, to give in, to be taken in hand. To feel the sting and burn of Gumshoe's loving care upon his skin as Gumshoe scolds him for his misbehaviour, chastises him for his transgressions, forgives him for all of his misdeeds.
Submitting to Gumshoe is so easy — the detective solid like a rock in a world made of mist, full of doubt and uncertainty, full of soul-crushing guilt. Come what may, he'll always have Gumshoe — his partner, his friend — and Gumshoe is more than happy to indulge him, spoiling him rotten with his loving attention, whatever he needs whenever he needs it, Gumshoe is always happy to oblige.
"You know why we're here," the larger man says, a statement not a question, gentle and warm, and Edgeworth nods — he knows what he's done.
Punishment. Reward. Two sides of a coin. Atonement. Redemption. Forgiveness. Release. Pain is just the vehicle — transcendence is the goal, surrendered to the might of Gumshoe's capable hands. There is nobody Edgeworth trusts more than Gumshoe, after all — Gumshoe who knows him like no one else does; Gumshoe who sees him like no one else can. Not a monster. Not a hero. Not a sinner, nor a saint. Not 'Prosecutor Edgeworth' — just quite simply 'Miles'. Neither demon, nor divine. (Neither wretched, nor sublime).
"Are you ready?" Gumshoe asks, voice soft, voice gentle — too soft for what they're doing, though Edgeworth loves it, (craves it), wouldn't have it any other way as he smiles at Gumshoe gently, trusts him fully and intently.
"I am," he breathes and Gumshoe smiles back.
Then, and only then, do they start.