Edward lay awake in the pale morning light, staring at the ceiling, when a frantic knock shattered the silence. He barely had time to open the door before Charles—naked but for a towel slung low on his hips—collapsed into his arms, trembling.
"Edward, I—I can't do this anymore," Charles gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Help me. My heart—" His breath came in ragged bursts, panic etching his face.
Edward didn't hesitate. He swept Charles into his arms, kicked the door shut, and locked it. Gently, he laid him on the bed, peeling away the damp towel. Charles' skin was feverish, his legs still marked from last night's passion.
"Shhh, I'm here," Edward murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're safe."
But then his hands slid lower, parting Charles' thighs with possessive reverence. "You gave yourself to Edeline last night," he growled. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."
