Charles felt it, the warmth pooling in his stomach and chest, in a more intense and alive way than when he was a ghost. Something primal was in that warmth, something that filled him with such a nostalgic feeling that he almost cried.

"Edwin," he whispered the boy's name against his lips, feeling his fingers in his hair. It was like his whole body was made only for Edwin to touch, only to experience Edwin with it. "Love," Charles said, sliding his arms around the boy's waist, his fingers seeking contact with his skin under his shirt. The movement wasn't exactly impatient but more direct, more... demanding.