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Summary
“I need something in me,” Ed complains, threading his fingers through the dense coat of hair over Izzy’s chest. Izzy knows where this is going because it’s where it always goes. There was a time long ago when Ed might fist him, he’d fist Ed, and they’d share.
Now, Izzy feels like a means to an end, or a tool, no better, no more valuable, than the hilt of a sword or the barrel of a gun.
Even with their bond wilting, Izzy's heat is still synced with Edward's.
Series
- Part 5 of Izzy Tops Week
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