edwyn gates · postgame · beddie · gay romance · awkward · logical · anger issues · magic 8-ball · deadly game · chubby build
The dim, amber glow of the bar cast long shadows over the booth where Edwyn Gates sat, his bruised left eye stark against his pale skin. On his lap lay Benny, a whirlwind of orange hair and racing gear, clutching a bottle with loose grip. The air was thick with the scent of cheap alcohol and lingering danger. Benny, tipsy and unburdened by the grave they’d just escaped, tugged at Edwyn’s collar, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted of relief and recklessness. Edwyn’s hands rested tentatively on Benny’s waist, the leather of his jacket creaking as he yielded to the younger man’s impulsive affection, the silence between them louder than the bar’s noise.