"Oh, fuck off," Edmund says, though without much heat. "Nothing we'd terribly object to, you said. I won't say that wasn't hot, but poor Eric."

"...I was eye level with his crotch. Poor Eric, indeed, but not the way you're thinking."

"...what, really?"

"I'm not sure he was harder than you are right now but that's about the right ballpark, it's a wonder he wasn't bursting out of his pants."

"...I guess he likes you," Edmund says, trying not to think about it too hard. "I don't think I've ever seen him... aroused, in the, what, ten years I've known him? And, yes, some of that was prepubescent on his end but most of it wasn't."

"And you're certain you'd have noticed?" he asks, sounding a bit dubious. "—also we should, ah, actually clean up."

"Yeah, we should." Edmund's hands have calmed down enough to rehouse his dick and zip back up, and he has some wipes in his backpack for any stray cum.

"And, um. I'm certain I'd have been looking."

"Maybe he has an exhibitionism kink. Or a voyeurism kink. Or both. Lord knows I do."

He will help clean up! He has more than "any" stray cum on him, courtesy of one of the two best orgasms of Edmund's life.

Edmund is not counting cum that is on Pete as stray because he has personally observed that Pete's clothing does not obey the laws of physics and frankly at this point he's assuming it'll clean itself the second he doesn't have Edmund's eyes on him. In the interests of checking this, he will crouch and check under the table, facing in the other direction. (At least they're not on carpet.)

"If he has one of either I'd bet you almost anything he's never indulged until now."

Yeah he is in fact perfectly clean by the time Edmund looks at him again.

"My powers aren't sex-themed but it would be such a shame if I couldn't figure out a way to help him indulge. —wait, did you say ten years? How old is he?"

"Twenty in December. I'm getting him an omnibus of the Sword of Shannara and he's going to be very put out about it."

Eyebrow lift. "You're going to give the librarian a birthday gift? That sounds like it has a backstory."

"...it does, yeah. He's... friends with my brother? And I don't necessarily feel comfortable going into more detail given he doesn't know you. Sorry."

"—sure. 'Friends with my brother' about covers it, anyway. Is he an alumnus?"

"He was a couple of years above Peter. If you really must know more ask Peter, he's for one thing closer to him and for another thing better at telling people to shut up."

"...I was not expecting that question to be on the nono list! I'll just stop asking any questions, how about. Shall we? And to change the subject, you never did tell me how you guessed that Hywel and Tintin were also part of the story."

"Ta. It's because they're ridiculously pretty and I do actually have pattern recognition."

The room is clean now; Edmund inhales deeply and pushes the door open in a manner suggesting he expects Eric Jones to be hiding behind it like some kind of ambush predator.

He is not. He is putting some books away that some delinquents didn't. He does notice them walking out of the reading room and look up at them.

Pete gives him a winning smile.

...is he blushing a bit? The light is pretty low but he might be??

"...we, um. Cleaned up," Edmund mumbles. "...sorry you had to see that."

"Don't let me catch you doing that again, Mr. Pevensie, Mr. Pearl."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Jones."

"Once was entirely enough, m- sir."

He sporfles and has to cover his mouth to hide his giggles. "Oh, that would've ended very badly for the two of you. Yes, Mr. Pevensie, I am also glad it was not Mrs. Winthrop here tonight, for your sake."