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The Aftermath	By : GhostHelwig Category: +1 through F > Ed, Edd, and Eddy Views: 6919 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Ed Edd and Eddy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer – I don’t own or profit from Ed, Edd N Eddy. Rated R for sexual situations. Slash. You have been warned.

THE AFTERMATH

Chapter 1 – Unchanging Edd

He moved over me, pushing in, pulling on my hair. I tried not to move too much. He hated it when I did that.
I didn’t love him, not really, and he never lied and said he loved me. I don’t think he even ever saw me. But he satisfied me, which was more than anyone I loved would ever do.
We came, together, moaning into each other’s mouths. I reached up, tangling my fingers in his red hair. He smiled.
“Dork,” he whispered almost affectionately.
He pulled me closer to him for a moment, pressed his warm wet mouth to mine, then pushed me away. I knew what he wanted. As he rolled over and prepared to go to sleep, I got up and began pulling on my discarded clothes. By the time I reached his bedroom door he was already snoring gently.
I stood gazing over at Kevin, feeling unaccountably sad. Then I left.

He liked to grab my shoulders and ride me, taking me from behind, like we were simply two of his precious beasts. For a usually mild-mannered young man, in bed he was aggressive, determined to satisfy himself – and me – as well and often as quickly as possible. I was the one who had to teach him to slow down, to relax. Sex isn’t a race to a finish, it’s a leisurely exploration of another person.
The first time he’d taken me it was over before I thought it had begun, but, far from embarrassed, he was proud. I had to explain it to him, gently, but though I don’t believe I made him understand he was more than willing to try again. And again and again and again...
So there we were, and he rode me hard, and I was gasping and moaning before the end. As ever, he was fidgety afterwards, calming only when it was apparent I was leaving. I know that in the old world he’s from two boys are allowed to sleep together when their need is great, but beyond that everything is kind of frowned upon. He never mentions this, but he doesn’t have to. I know how he feels about us. About me.
So I finish dressing quickly, wiping sweat from my brow. At the touch of my own cold sweat I find myself wondering – if I died tomorrow, would any of my lovers come to my funeral? Would they look around guiltily at each other if they did, wondering if anyone else knew? Or would they just not show up? Maybe they’d even be relieved, or simply mourn the lost sex...
So go my thoughts. And as I begin to walk towards the door of the shed, not bothering to try for a goodbye kiss (his dead great-Nano would not approve), Rolf suddenly fidgets again and calls out, “goodnight, Ed-boy.”
So he does notice me. I look back over my shoulder and try to smile, but my face has gone numb. I let myself out into the cold night air, feeling the sweat begin to dry on my skin, and decide to take the long way home.
After all, no one’s there for me, waiting for me.
No one ever is.

Another night, another lover.
He’s new, this one, and younger. And though one would think I would rule him he is dominant, bordering on cruel when it suits him. I try not to upset him. I try not to rock the boat. But sometimes the outside world frustrates him, and so he takes it out on me.
Which is fine – I’m rather used to that.
For all his new airs and dire sophistication, when we’re together he reverts back to the child he once was. He dominates me, but I don’t think he thinks about me. I was never the focus of his life or his rage. And when he’s inside me, he remembers who was.
I don’t know why I sleep with him. You wouldn’t think so, but of all my lovers he is possibly the least attractive to me. He’s too... dishonest. He never shows the real him.
And neither do I, anymore, though that’s probably why I can’t stand it in him.
But I’d never stop him, I’d never stop anyone, so I let him do what he wishes to my loathsome body. And when it’s over I leave without a word. He likes to be alone afterwards, to revel in what he always sees as a victory over the demons and disasters of his childhood.
Sometimes I don’t think Jimmy is quite sane.
But then, who is?

It’s the wood I hate. It’s been polished by now, and over the years it’s been whittled down by age and accident, but it’s still a hefty thing. But he won’t let it go, and I wonder at my former sympathy with him. Was I blind, or simply an idiot?
Perhaps both.
So he holds it, that old wood, during our kisses and caresses, and then he uses it on me. He’s gentle, at first, but it’s wood, and the whole situation is so... uncouth. I wish I could stop him. I wish he’d stop on his own.
Wishes are useless.
And my younger lovers dominate me. Just as my older lovers ignore me. That’s just how things are.
And as Jonny wields Plank inside me like a jackhammer, with all the finesse his rampaging hormones will allow, I find myself wishing yet again that things were different.
But he moves Plank away to stick himself in, within a few thrusts he comes inside me, and the sensation causes me to spill in his hand. And I suddenly know.
Things will never be different.
Because I can’t change what I am.
I wasn’t always like this. I was fussy once; no one could touch me. But then someone did.
And now I don’t know who I really am.
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The Aftermath