A/N: Written in response to a prompt on the beautiful Fright Night Kink meme. Slightly edited from the version I posted there.

I'm kind of obsessed with unrequited!Ed/Charlie, so, here you are. Enjoy!

"Y'know, I put up with so much shit from you."

For the first time in a long time, Ed is talking and Charley's listening.

He listens, because Ed's got his shoulders crushed up against the wall. Listens because Ed's breath-Ed's teeth-are right there, so close: heavy and heady and hypnotic. And his eyes look so familiar-the eyes of the best friend he grew up with.

Until the anger flashes too high and the eyes flood black, and even if it's just for a second, it's enough to break the spell: enough to start him struggling again.

But Ed laughs when he fights.

"I let you walk all over me, Squidboy. I always came when you called." Then suddenly he's closer-toe to toe-so there's no room to move, no room to breathe. So his face takes up all of Charley's vision.

And then Ed shoves him, again and again, slamming his shoulders with each tremor-a building crescendo of abuse.

"I'm done waiting for you to get your shit together!" He screams, and the words punctuate the pushing until they both stop completely.

Ed stares at him, silent, his eyes large and human. He draws back to look at Charley—just look.

"Jesus, Ed," Charley breathes. His voice comes out high and afraid; the words sound foreign in his own mouth. "I don't know what you want me to say. I can't—I can't fix this, I—"

Through this, Ed stares at him. Just a lost little boy. But when his gaze breaks and he surges forward, he kisses like it's a meal. He mouths at Charley's lips, nipping with too-sharp teeth, digging his claws so deep in Charley's shoulders that Charley has to gasp-has to open. And from there, Ed pushes on.

Ed's tongue delves into his mouth, exploring his teeth, his cheeks, his gums. And when Charley's tongue gets in the way he bites at it, until wells of blood spring up and make the taste all the sweeter.

Charley squirms and pushes but Ed pushes more. He's strong now. For the first time in his life, he's not the one getting hit.

He's the one throwing the punches.

Charley's mouth isn't enough for him-not anymore. All the years he'd spent wondering about that one kiss, that one moment, but it's not enough. Not when he can hear Charley's heart thundering in his chest.

He pulls back and latches his lips to that neck-that long, appetizing neck. He laps and licks and sucks and nibbles and it takes so much fucking restraint to keep his fangs back. Ed's mouth waters, wanting him.

But this goes so much farther than blood. This stands with years of loyalty, years of devotion. Love.

Charley groans and struggles beneath him. Words rip from his mouth in airy gasps.

"Ed, please. Stop, Ed—stop."

Ed pulls back and can almost feel his heart give a little quiver-one last, stubborn attempt at a beat.

The black sinks out of his eyes. His fangs retreat until they're nearly nothing. For just a second, he almost looks himself again-save for the waxen skin. For a second, he looks sick, tired. And ashamed.

He keeps Charley pinned there, just to look at him-to search him for the answers he's never been able to find.

For a second, his stomach lurches and he swallows back bile, because Charley-his best friend, the person he's been so hopelessly in love with for so many hopeless years-Charley looks at him so hurt and so afraid that he finally feels like a monster.

"You let him do this to me, Charley." He says, matter-of-fact. He does his best to hide the tremble in his voice, but does a poor job of it. "If you'd have been there-" His voice breaks and he has to stop and compose himself. Strong as he is and he feels like he's shaking apart. "If I had even thought you cared..."

The rage comes back, along with the hunger, and suddenly Charley's looking just so damn delectable with the blood from his tongue painting his lips and his arms all crisscrossed in claw-marks-his eyes all big and blue.

"Ed, I'm sorry, I-"

Ed grinds against him, pressing Charley down into the wall at his back. His mouth brushes Charley's ear, his voice low-dangerous. And he feels so damn solid, so damn immovable: a wall himself.

"If I had thought for one second that you actually gave a shitabout me-"

Ed's hands sink lower. He shoves them up and under Charley's shirt and drags his palms and his claws over the crest of Charley's ribs. They swell with his gasp and Ed's nails dig in all the more.

"Maybe then, I'd have put up a fight. But, see, I just didn't have fucking anything to live for."

Charley grunts and writhes as Ed's hands drag up his thighs. His claws fray the denim of his jeans, scratch little trails in his skin that don't quite draw blood.

"And, God, Charley-it feels so damn good to be wanted." The words come out in a moan. He rocks his hips forward, grinds them together. Charley sucks in a ragged breath. His eyes are screwed shut. If Ed didn't know any better, he would swear Charley was praying.

Ed's words are still low, far back in his throat-these abusive strings of pleasure that hurt and seduce and entice.

"You have no idea what it's like. To finally have the power to get what you want. Who you want." He rubs his cheek against Charley's to mouth at the skin just below his ear. Charley lets out a groan that turns into a whine. Every muscle in his body strains—pushing him back, against the wall, away from the mouth that roves his flesh.

"You should see yourself right now. It's pathetic, really. But even you don't know what it's like to feel wanted, do you?"

The rocking has taken on a slow, sensual rhythm that pushes them against each other and away in time with the hypnotic sway of Ed's words. It's Ed's claws digging trails in Charley's back that keeps him from falling into the spell of it completely-the pain that keeps him on the edge.

"For someone to literally want you, body and soul? Allof you."

"Ed," Charley starts-a weak and terrified protest.

"I could show you."

"Ed." Charley shakes his head, his eyes pressed shut. He talks fast and high and desperate. "This isn't what you want. You're not thinking straight. This isn't-"

"Of course it's what I want!" He snaps, and that pleasure-pain grip turns to agony. Charley arches away from the dagger sharp claws that sink down through the skin of his back into muscle, but it only brings him closer to Ed, closer to his body-closer to his teeth.

"Don't you get it?"

And with his eyes closed, Charley could almost swear it's the old Ed again.

"It's all that I want."