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The wind tugged gently at Edgar’s collar, sending a shiver down his spine. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, white-knuckled, holding back a trembling he didn’t want Jimmy to notice.
Jimmy lit another cigarette with a click of his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating the lines of his face. He looked so… at home up here. Like the cold couldn’t touch him. Like nothing ever could.
Edgar watched the smoke drift from Jimmy’s lips, the way his fingers cradled the cigarette, loose and casual. Even the way he leaned against the railing—skin exposed, crop top riding up slightly to reveal the faint slope of his hipbone—seemed so effortless.
He was lying on his back now, sprawled across the roof like it was a sun-warmed mattress instead of cold steel. His cigarette glows faintly in the dusk, the smoke curling around him like lazy ghosts.
“You ever tried one?” Jimmy asked suddenly, voice low and casual, like it didn’t mean anything.
Edgar hesitated, eyes darting toward the cigarette. “No.”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow, holding the cigarette out toward him with two fingers. “Wanna?”
Edgar stared at it like it was a test. Maybe it was. He didn’t like the smell. He didn’t like the idea. But something in Jimmy’s expression—half amused, half expectant—made him nod before he could talk himself out of it.
“Alright,” Edgar muttered. He reached out, fingers brushing against Jimmy’s as he took the cigarette. It was still warm from his mouth.
He brought it to his lips, uncertain. Jimmy didn’t look away—just watched, head tilted, arms folded behind his head as he lay there on the cold concrete like a king with no crown.
Edgar inhaled too quickly. The burn hit the back of his throat, and he coughed immediately, turning his head to the side. The taste clung to his tongue, bitter and dry.
Jimmy chuckled. “Easy, preacher boy. You’re not supposed to die on the first try.”
Edgar glared half-heartedly. He was older for Christ sakes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s gross.”
“You’re not wrong,” Jimmy said, still grinning. “But it grows on you.”
The borrowed cigarette pinched between his fingers, burning low. He hadn’t taken a second drag. Didn’t want to. But he couldn’t bring himself to put it out either. So he just… let his hand fall to his lap, cigarette still lit, ash slowly accumulating at the tip, flakes dropping softly onto his pants.
His eyes wandered to Jimmy—how relaxed he looked, like nothing ever touched him. Not the cold, not the rules, not the things that clung to Edgar’s spine like guilt.
Without warning, Jimmy rolled toward him, shifting his weight with feline ease until his head rested just shy of Edgar’s thigh. He propped himself on an elbow, smirking up at him, his gaze sliding lazily from Edgar’s face down to the cigarette still held awkwardly in his hand.
“You’re terrible at this,” Jimmy murmured.
“Oh shut up,” Edgar said softly, eyes not meeting his.
Jimmy’s smirk widened. Slowly, he leaned in—his breath warm against the inside of Edgar’s wrist, his tongue slipping out just enough to flick teasingly close to the cigarette’s tip. Close enough that Edgar flinched just slightly, feeling the heat crawl up his arm—and lower.
“You’ll burn a hole in yourself,” Jimmy said, tone half a warning, half a dare. His eyes looked up to meet Edgar’s. “Or maybe that’s the point?”
“What are you implying?” Edgar spoke up. The cigarette trembled faintly between his fingers, the ash slipping down to scatter across his lap.
Jimmy only smiled as a response and didn’t pull back. Instead his head rested near Edgar’s hip now, too close for comfort, too close for safety, his grin lazy and a little mean. The tension hung like smoke in the air—stale and hard to breathe through.
Edgar swallowed. His hand tightened around the cigarette.
“Hm, you planning on finishing that or what?” He stretched like a cat as he moved even closer now, his chin near Edgar’s hip, his body angled casually, comfortably close.
“No, thank you. Too refined for my taste.” Edgar’s hand trembled slightly as he brought the cigarette up to Jimmy’s lips. His fingers brushed against Jimmy’s mouth, nails catching softly on the chapped skin. He held it there, unsure of how close was too close.
“Suit yourself, more for me.” Jimmy leaned in without hesitation, his mouth lowering close to his hand.
But instead— his tongue flicked out, slow and warm, dragging across Edgar’s fingertips, leaving a damp trail that took the christian man off guard.
Then his mouth closed around the cigarette, lips brushing against Edgar’s knuckles. He took a long drag, eyes half-lidded, like he was tasting something sweet.
Edgar was left flabbergasted. He gulped and watched with dilated pupils, the way Jimmy’s lips wrapped around it with quiet ease. His cheek hollowed with the pull, drawing the smoke in slowly and deep.
The ember flared, casting a dull orange light against his face. Smoke unfurled from the edges of Jimmy’s mouth, wrapping around them in soft, ghostly ribbons.
And not even for a single second, Jimmy’s eyes never left Edgar’s.
More smoke spilled from his mouth as he pulled back, exhaling slowly—aiming down, toward Edgar’s lap. The heat of it ghosted over Edgar’s thighs, clinging through the fabric of his jeans. Edgar’s hand dropped to his lap, the cigarette still burning between his fingers. Ash crumbled and dusted his pants, but he didn’t move.
He just sat there, staring. His pulse was so loud in his ears that he swore that Jimmy could hear it.
Jimmy shifted, settling between Edgar’s legs like it was the most natural place to be. His back pressed lightly against Edgar’s inner thighs, warm even in the rooftop chill.
The air between them thinned. His hand reached lazily to Edgar’s wrist, not to take the cigarette—just holding. Thumb brushing the underside. Contact that lingered.
Edgar’s body was stiff, but his fingers curled just slightly, enough to keep the cigarette from slipping. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t tell if he was breathing.
Smoke trailed upward between them, and Jimmy smirked, the kind of smile that felt like it already knew the answer to a question Edgar hadn’t asked.