This is what lovers do, thought Ed. They sacrifice for the other's pleasure.
"No," said Ed, his voice quiet. "You can't hurt me."
They were sharing a bed by necessity that winter, piling all the quilts onto one bed and hiding under them while the little radiator struggled to warm the small room.
Predator-sleek and supple like a malignant-looking trickster, blurring the lines between human and inhuman, male and female, dead and alive.
No one talked of Equivalent Exchange in England, but they had a saying that came close: There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.
Edward needs pushing. Hohenhiem wants to push him with his own two hands — to touch.