MEMO ── ERIC / ROOMATES AND BEACH HOUSES .
NOTES : you are eric draven's brand new roommate, discovered through a mutual friend and he's getting to grips with having another person in his space, let alone a woman. and you are clearly out to get him.
WARNINGS : female reader-insert (no y/n), no powers, roommate au, teasing, praise, jacuzzi sex, prince albert piercing, fingering, masturbation, marking, kissing, riding, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, size difference.
CEO NOTES : he might be ooc.. im so sorry, dont have jacuzzi sex...
CONFIDENTIAL MATERIAL ── 18+ ONLY.
the building wasn't the worst you'd seen, but it wasn't great either. the kind of place that had probably been nice once, decades ago, back when the brick still had color and the windows still had all their glass. now it sagged under its own age, gutters rusted through, the front step cracked down the middle like something had tried to split it open from underneath. the buzzer panel by the entrance had half its labels peeled away, names scratched out or faded to nothing, and the door itself stuck in the frame so badly you had to throw your shoulder into it just to get it open.
inside, the lobby was barely a lobby at all. a bank of mailboxes lined one wall, most of them dented, a few hanging open with nothing inside. the tile floor was cracked and yellowed, curling up at the edges where water damage had crept in and never left. somewhere above you a pipe knocked against the wall in a slow, uneven rhythm, and the whole building seemed to breathe around it, settling and creaking like it resented every person who still lived inside it.
the stairwell smelled like damp concrete and old cigarette smoke, that stale gray smell that soaked into plaster and never came out. underneath it, faint and greasy, something fried drifted from a door on the second floor, garlic and oil clinging to the stale air. the overhead lights buzzed and flickered as you climbed, one of them dying in slow pulses like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to give out completely. your footsteps echoed too loud against the concrete steps, scuffed and grimed dark down the center where years of feet had worn a path.
the walls carried their own history. water stains bloomed across the paint in brown continents, graffiti tucked into corners where no one had bothered to scrub it off, a long gouge in the drywall at the second floor landing like someone had dragged something heavy and sharp along it once and never patched the damage. you kept climbing anyway, past the second floor, past a door with three deadbolts and a welcome mat that said nothing you could read anymore, the letters worn to ghosts.
third floor, end of the hall.
the hallway stretched out longer than was necessary, lit by a single working bulb near the far end, the rest either dead or dying, buzzing faintly like dying flies caught behind glass. the carpet runner beneath your feet had gone thin and gray, its pattern long since walked into nothing, and doors lined either side, each one closed, each one silent, like the whole floor was holding its breath along with you.
you double checked the text from your mutual friend, the screen glaring bright in the dim hallway.
‘eric. apartment 3c. he needs a roommate, you need a place. don't let him scare you off. he's harmless!’
you'd never met him, only heard of him, secondhand and vague. a mechanic, a street racer, someone mara mentioned in passing with a kind of fondness that never quite explained itself. and now, after weeks of crashing on other people's couches and running out of favors to call in, you were standing outside apartment 3c, a stranger about to knock on the door of a man who had no idea you existed.
the hallway stretched quiet around you, the dying bulb ticking faintly overhead. you swallowed, steeled yourself, shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, and lifted your hand, and then knocked. for a moment there was nothing. just the pipe somewhere behind the walls, still knocking its slow rhythm, indifferent to you.
then heavy footsteps, uneven on old floorboards. a lock clicking, then another. the door swung open, and there he was.
he was taller than you expected, broad shouldered, built like he belonged anywhere but here, anywhere but this dying building with its stuck doors and dead bulbs. black hair, uneven from what looked like a home cut gone wrong, stuck up at the crown like he'd been running his hands through it all day. tattoos bled from his sleeves, ink crawling up his throat, cutting sharp and dark against pale skin. his eyes were dark, piercing, and they locked onto you with a kind of frozen, barely functioning confusion, like his whole system had hit a wall it didn't know how to process.
his lips parted, then pressed shut again. his brows pulled together, processing.
"who the fuck are you?" his voice came out rough, low, like he hadn't used it in hours, maybe longer. he blinked once, twice, then went completely flat, some circuit behind his eyes shorting out entirely. his gaze drifted slightly unfocused, mouth parting like a system error had just fried whatever was left of his ability to compute. his hand stayed locked around the door handle, knuckles faintly tense, like he hadn't even registered he was still holding it.
the silence stretched long enough that you started wondering if you should just turn around, walk back down three flights of stairs, and figure out somewhere else to sleep tonight. then he blinked again, hard, like he was rebooting from the inside out.
"i'm looking for eric. eric draven?" you shifted your bag on your shoulder again, more out of nerves than necessity. "mara said you needed a roommate."
his eyes flicked down to the bag, then back up to your face, then somewhere over your shoulder, like he half expected someone else to be standing behind you, someone who made more sense. a joke, a prank, something, anything, that explained this.
"mara didn't mention you were—" he stopped himself short, jaw working like he was chewing on the rest of that sentence and deciding against swallowing it.
"a woman?" you offered, raising a brow.
"i was gonna say short." a beat. "but yeah. that too."
you almost laughed. almost. instead you just stood there under the one working light at the end of the hall while he stared at you like you'd stepped out of some other dimension entirely and landed, inexplicably, on his doorstep.
"so are you gonna let me in, or should i just set up camp out here?"
that seemed to snap something loose in him. he stepped back from the door, still holding it open, knuckles white against the frame like he needed something solid to anchor to. "right. yeah. sorry. come in."
stepping inside felt like stepping into an entirely different world from the hallway you'd just left. the apartment smelled like motor oil and old coffee, cigarette ash ground so deep into the carpet it had become part of the fabric itself. a couch sagged under a mountain of band tees and torn flannel, one arm patched with silver tape. tools scattered across a coffee table beside a stack of unopened mail, envelopes yellowing at the edges. a guitar leaned in the corner, strings dulled with a fine layer of dust, like it hadn't been touched in longer than he'd probably admit.
it wasn't much. the walls were bare except for a few water stains of its own, and the window at the far end let in a thin gray light that did nothing to make the place feel warmer. but it wasn't the hallway either, and after weeks of borrowed couches and worn out welcomes, it looked like something close to relief.
he shut the door behind you, and the click of the lock felt louder than it should have in the small space. you turned to find him still watching you, arms crossed now, tattoos shifting with the movement, ink crawling from his knuckles up to disappear beneath his collar.
"you got a name," he said, "or should i just keep calling you the woman in my apartment."
"it's on the lease paperwork mara sent you."
"i didn't read it."
"of course you didn't."
something flickered at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, more like the ghost of one, uncertain if it was allowed to exist yet. "fair enough. so what is it?"
you told him. he repeated it back once, quiet, testing the shape of it in his mouth like it was a foreign language he was learning on the spot.
"eric." he said after, tapping his own chest, like you hadn't already known, like introductions were a formality he wasn't used to bothering with anymore.
"i know. mara covered that part."
"right." his gaze dropped again, taking in the bag slung over your shoulder, the exhaustion probably written plain across your face after a full day of hauling your life across the city in bags and boxes. something in his expression shifted, softened at the edges, the confusion giving way slowly to something quieter.
"guest room's a mess," he admitted. "wasn't expecting company. wasn't expecting—" he gestured vaguely at you, at the whole situation, at the fact that his new roommate had turned out to be someone who made him forget how words worked halfway through a sentence. "this."
"i can deal with mess."
"yeah." he stepped aside, finally, clearing the narrow path down the hall. "yeah, i bet you can."
and for the first time since he'd opened that door, the confusion in his eyes gave way to something almost like curiosity.
later that afternoon, eric took it upon himself to haul your boxes up from the curb without so much as asking if you wanted the help. you'd barely gotten the first bag off your shoulder before he was already brushing past you toward the street, rolling his sleeves up over the ink on his forearms like the whole task was already decided and there was no point discussing it.
you followed him down, half protesting, telling him you could manage your own things, that he didn't have to do this. he didn't answer, just grabbed the biggest box off the sidewalk, the one you'd been dreading most, packed with books and framed photos and anything else too fragile to trust to a duffel bag. he hefted it up against his chest like it weighed nothing at all, barely a grunt escaping him, and started back toward the building without a word.
you trailed after him, carrying what you could, watching the way he navigated the stairwell like he'd done it a thousand times, sidestepping the cracked step near the second floor landing without even glancing down, ducking his head slightly under the low pipe by the third floor door out of pure habit. three trips, then four, and each time he came back down he waved off your attempts to take something from his hands, nodding toward whatever was left instead, silently claiming the heavier load for himself before you could argue.
by the last trip, sweat had gathered at his temple, his shirt clinging slightly at the back, and he still didn't slow down. he set the final box inside the doorway of the guest room, the one he'd apologized for earlier, and straightened up, rolling one shoulder like it had started to ache somewhere deep in the joint. he glanced around at the small pile of your life now stacked against his walls, boxes and bags and the corner of a mirror poking out from bubble wrap, and something crossed his face, quiet, unreadable, like he was cataloguing the fact that this was real now. that you were real, and staying, and not some strange hallway hallucination he'd imagined into being.
"that everything?" he asked, wiping his palm against his jeans.
"that's everything." you looked at the boxes, then at him, faintly out of breath from the last flight of stairs. "you didn't have to carry all that."
"yeah, well." he shrugged, the motion loose, careless, like it cost him nothing to say. "didn't feel right letting you do it alone."
he didn't explain further than that, didn't seem to think it needed explaining, and turned back toward the hallway like the conversation was already finished in his head. you watched him go, the tattoos along his neck shifting with the movement of his shoulders, and something about the whole afternoon, the quiet effort of it, the total lack of complaint, settled into you slower than you expected it to.
he didn't get far before he stopped in the hallway, hand braced against the doorframe, looking back at the mess of boxes stacked against his wall like he was only now processing the full weight of what had happened. a woman lives here now. an actual woman with actual belongings, mirrors and picture frames and a rolled up rug leaning against his guest room wall, and something about seeing it all laid out like that seemed to catch him sideways all over again, same as it had on the doorstep.
he didn't say anything, just stood there a second too long, jaw working like his brain was still trying to reconcile the empty apartment he'd lived in alone for years with the one currently filling itself up around him. then he shook his head slightly, like he was physically dislodging the thought, and disappeared down the hall toward his room.
it kept happening after that, little moments where you'd catch him staring at something that shouldn't have warranted staring at all. a pair of your shoes by the door. a coffee mug that wasn't his sitting in the drying rack. your jacket slung over the back of a chair. he'd pause mid stride, eyes catching on the detail like it was foreign, like his apartment had quietly rearranged itself into something he didn't fully recognize yet, and then he'd blink and keep moving, never commenting on it, though you could tell it registered every single time.
one evening you came out of the shower to find him standing in the middle of the hallway just holding a bottle of shampoo, your shampoo, turning it over in his hands like it was some artifact he'd unearthed. he looked up when your door creaked, startled, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.
"this yours?" he asked, holding it up, entirely unnecessary given the flowers printed across the label and the fact that his own shower supplies consisted of a single bar of soap and nothing else.
"no, i just keep spare shampoo bottles around for fun." you crossed your arms, amused. "yes, it's mine. it fell off the shelf, i bet."
"yeah." he glanced at it again, then at you, then back at the bottle like he was still working through some larger equation. "just wasn't expecting it."
"it's shampoo, eric."
"i know it's shampoo." he set it back on the shelf, a little too carefully, like he wanted it to look untouched. "just weird. having stuff. that isn't mine. in the bathroom."
"you have a roommate now. that's usually how it works."
"yeah, i'm aware." he scratched at the back of his neck, tattoos shifting with the motion, and there was something almost boyish in the way he wouldn't quite meet your eyes, like the whole situation was still settling into him slower than he wanted it to. "just gonna take some getting used to."
it wasn't just the bathroom. it was the extra chair he'd pulled up to the kitchen table without thinking, then stared at like he didn't remember doing it. it was the way he'd start making one plate of food out of habit, then catch himself and make two instead, muttering something under his breath about needing to remember there were now two people who lived here. it was the pause, every single time, when he came home and saw the lights already on, when he heard movement in the kitchen before he even opened the door, some part of him still expecting the apartment to be empty the way it had been for years before you showed up.
you caught him once, standing in the living room doorway at nearly midnight, just watching you fold laundry on the couch with an expression that wasn't quite readable, somewhere between bewildered and something softer he didn't seem to have language for yet.
"you good?" you asked, folding a shirt without looking up.
"yeah." a beat. "just still weird. seeing someone else's stuff everywhere."
"you'll get used to it."
"yeah." he said it again, quieter this time, like he was convincing himself. "guess i will."
he didn't move from the doorway for another few seconds, watching you fold shirt after shirt like the domestic normalcy of it was still something his brain hadn't fully caught up to, some part of him still stuck on the moment he'd opened his door to a stranger and found his entire life quietly rearranged around her presence ever since.
one evening he came home late from the shop, grease still smudged along his jaw, exhaustion pulling at his shoulders, and found you asleep on the couch with a book open on your chest. he stood in the doorway for a long moment just looking at you, something soft and unguarded crossing his face before he caught himself, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to look at his roommate like that. he crossed the room quiet as he could manage, easing the book from your hands, setting it gently on the table, and paused there, close enough that his breath nearly stirred your hair, his fingers brushing your shoulder like he meant to wake you and then thought better of it.
you stirred anyway, blinking up at him through half sleep, and for a second neither of you moved, his hand still resting light against your shoulder, his eyes dark and unreadable in the low light, something caught there that looked a lot like want and a lot like fear all at once.
"you fell asleep out here," he said quietly, voice rough with something that wasn't just tiredness.
"guess i did." you didn't sit up right away, didn't put space between you, some quiet part of you unwilling to break whatever this was. "you're home late."
"yeah." he swallowed, throat working, and his thumb moved slightly against your shoulder, barely a motion at all, but you felt it everywhere. "didn't mean to wake you."
"you didn't." a pause, quiet, charged. "not really."
he held your gaze a moment longer, something flickering behind his eyes like he was deciding whether to say something he'd been holding back for weeks, and then he pulled his hand away, slow, reluctant, like it cost him more than he wanted to admit. he cleared his throat, straightened, put distance between you.
"you should get to bed. real bed, i mean." his voice had gone rougher, like he was fighting his way back to something steady. "couch'll wreck your back."
"probably right." you sat up slowly, and for a moment you were close enough that you could count the small scar above his eyebrow, close enough to notice the way his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before he forced it away, jaw tight.
"night," he said, too quick, already stepping back toward the hall.
"night, eric."
he paused at the sound of his name in your voice, just for a second, shoulders tensing like the words had physically caught him, and then he kept walking, disappearing into his room without looking back. you sat there on the couch a while longer, heart beating a little too fast for a moment that had barely lasted a minute, replaying the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the look in his eyes he hadn't quite managed to hide in time.
the whole apartment had gone soft and slow, and you hadn't bothered getting properly dressed since rolling out of bed. one of his old shirts he had given to you instead of throwing away, worn thin at the collar, hanging loose enough to nearly reach your thighs, and nothing else beneath it besides a plain pair of panties you hadn't thought twice about when you wandered out of your room for coffee.
eric was on the couch, phone pressed to his ear, mara's voice tinny and rapid on the other end about some part he needed to pick up from the shop before monday. he was mid sentence, something about brake pads, half distracted, feet kicked up on the coffee table, when you crossed into his line of sight on your way to the kitchen.
the sentence just stopped, not trailed off, not paused for effect. stopped, entirely, mid word, like someone had reached into his skull and yanked the plug straight out of the wall. his eyes tracked you the whole way across the room, slow and helpless, gaze catching on the hem of the shirt riding up slightly with every step, and whatever brake pad he'd been describing to mara evaporated from his mind completely.
"—eric?" mara's voice crackled through the speaker, tinny and questioning. "eric, you still there?"
he didn't answer. his jaw had gone slack, phone still held loosely against his ear, eyes fixed on you with an expression that had abandoned all pretense of subtlety, somewhere between stunned and something far less innocent. you reached the kitchen counter, entirely unaware for a few seconds, pouring coffee like it was any other sunday morning, and it was the clink of the mug against the counter that finally seemed to reboot something in him.
"eric. hello?" mara's voice rose, sharp now, clearly repeating herself for the third time.
"—yeah. yeah, sorry, i'm here." his voice came out rough, distracted, eyes still glued to you even as he tried to drag his attention back to the phone. "say that again?"
you glanced over your shoulder then, catching the tail end of his stare before he could fully redirect it, and the way he flinched, just slightly, like he'd been caught with his hand somewhere it shouldn't be, told you everything you needed to know. his eyes darted away too fast, focusing hard on the ceiling, the wall, anything that wasn't you standing there in his shirt with your legs bare and your hair still mussed from sleep.
"brake pads," mara repeated, flat, clearly unimpressed by whatever silence had swallowed him whole. "the ones i've been asking about for ten minutes."
"right. brake pads. i got it." he cleared his throat, low, and shifted on the couch like he was suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin, dragging a hand down his face. "i'll swing by tomorrow."
you took your coffee and leaned against the counter, watching him with poorly hidden amusement now, and the second his gaze flicked back toward you, helpless, drawn like a magnet, he caught you watching him watch you, and something like actual panic crossed his face.
"gotta go, mara." he ended the call before she could respond, phone dropping onto the cushion beside him, and he sat there a second just staring at you, jaw tight, throat working like he was trying to remember how words functioned.
"everything okay?" you asked, entirely too innocent, taking a slow sip of coffee.
"fine." his voice cracked slightly on the word, and he cleared his throat again, sitting up straighter like that might help. "you, uh. you good? need anything?"
"nope. just getting coffee."
"right." he nodded, too many times, eyes flicking down and then snapping back up like he'd caught himself doing something forbidden. "cool. that's, uh. that's good."
you took your time walking back toward your room, entirely too aware now of the way his eyes tracked your every movement, the shirt shifting against your thighs with each step, and right before you disappeared down the hall you glanced back to find him still frozen on the couch, staring, phone forgotten beside him, looking like a man who had just witnessed something close to godliness.
the invite came from one of eric's old friends, some guy named dax who ran with the racing crowd, a weekend thing at a beach house a couple hours out of the city. everyone was going, mara included, and mara had spent a solid ten minutes on the phone trying to convince eric to come along, promising him it would be good for him, that he never left the garage or the apartment anymore, that he needed the sun on his skin for once instead of grease.
he'd turned her down flat, said he had a car to finish by monday, said the beach wasn't really his scene anyway, and that had been that. you'd watched the whole exchange from the kitchen table, quietly amused, already deciding you were going regardless of whether he came or not.
you spent the morning getting ready anyway, some petty, half formed idea taking shape in the back of your mind, and by the time you called his name down the hall, you already knew exactly what you were doing.
"eric? can you come here a sec?"
a pause, then the creak of the couch, footsteps approaching slow and unsuspecting. "yeah, what's—"
he opened the door mid sentence and the rest of it just died somewhere in his throat.
you stood in front of the floor length mirror he'd put together for you weeks ago, the one he'd complained about for a solid hour while assembling, still in your bikini, turning slightly to check the tie at your hip, entirely unbothered by his presence in the doorway. the sunlight through the window caught along your skin, and eric stood frozen there, hand still braced on the doorframe, throat working visibly as he swallowed whatever had gathered in his mouth.
"what—" his voice cracked, and he cleared it, trying again, eyes darting anywhere except where they clearly wanted to land. "what do you want?"
you caught his gaze in the mirror rather than turning around, a small, deliberate smile tugging at your mouth. "put sunblock on me, please?"
his jaw worked, some visible war happening behind his eyes between walking away entirely and the fact that his feet hadn't moved an inch. "you're not even going."
"i am, actually. just because you're being stubborn doesn't mean i'm staying inside all weekend."
"i'm not being stubborn, i have work—"
"eric." you held up the bottle of sunscreen, still watching him through the mirror, patient, unbothered, entirely too aware of the effect you were having on him. "please?"
he stood there a moment longer, jaw tight, something in his expression caught between resistance and complete surrender, and then, slow, like it cost him every ounce of dignity he had left, he crossed the room and took the bottle from your hand. his fingers brushed yours in the exchange, and you felt the small hitch in his breath even from where you stood.
"turn around," he said, voice rougher now, lower.
you did, presenting your back to him, watching him in the mirror as he squeezed the sunscreen into his palm, hands not quite steady. he hesitated a second before touching you, like he was bracing himself for something, and then his palms landed against your shoulders, warm and careful, spreading the sunscreen slow across your skin.
his touch lingered longer than necessary at your shoulders, sliding down along your back with a kind of deliberate care that betrayed exactly how affected he was, fingers pressing gentle against your spine, tracing lower before catching himself and pulling back slightly. you watched his face in the mirror the entire time, the tight concentration in his jaw, the way his eyes kept dropping despite clearly trying not to let them.
"you're real quiet," you said softly, watching him through the mirror.
"trying not to say something stupid." his hands paused at your lower back, thumbs pressing light against your skin. "not doing a great job of it."
"say it anyway."
he exhaled, slow, like the words were dragged out of him against his will. "you're doing this on purpose."
"doing what?"
"this." his hand gestured vaguely, encompassing you, the mirror, the bikini, the entire situation he clearly felt very ambushed by. "the bikini. the mirror. all of it."
you turned slightly, just enough to catch his eyes directly instead of through the reflection, an easy, knowing smile playing at your mouth. "maybe."
his gaze dropped to your mouth for half a second before he forced it back up, jaw tight, knuckles nearly white where his hand still rested against your waist. "you're gonna be the death of me. you know that?"
"probably." you turned back toward the mirror, breaking the moment just enough to let him breathe, though the air between you stayed thick, charged, neither of you quite ready to name what exactly was happening here. "you missed a spot."
he huffed out something that was almost a laugh, almost a groan, and reached for the sunscreen again, hands less steady than before.
his hands moved slow across your shoulders, spreading the sunscreen with more attention than the task really required, and it was impossible not to notice the size difference between you the longer he stood there. his palm alone nearly spanned the width of your shoulder, fingers long enough to press into the muscle on either side, and when he dug his thumbs into a tight spot near your neck, you felt the full weight of how much bigger he was compared to you, how easily his hands could span places yours never could.
you let out a soft sound before you could stop it, some quiet, involuntary mewl as his thumbs worked into the ache sitting there from sleeping wrong the night before, and you felt him go still behind you for half a second, breath catching audibly.
"there?" he asked, voice lower now, rougher, thumb pressing again into the same spot like he wanted to hear that sound a second time.
"right there." your eyes fluttered slightly, head tilting back almost on instinct, and it landed nearly against his chest before you caught yourself, the solid warmth of him grounding in a way that made your whole body want to lean back further instead of correcting course.
his hands stilled again, and in the mirror you caught the way his gaze dropped to where your head rested so close to him, the two of you framed together in the reflection, your smaller frame nearly swallowed against the size of him, and something crossed his face, quiet and unguarded, like he was seeing the two of you the way anyone else might see you. easy. natural. like you fit there.
his fingers flexed slightly against your shoulders, and beneath his palms he could feel the small give of muscle, the softness of your skin warm from the sun through the window, and for a moment neither of you moved, caught in the reflection of something that felt a lot bigger than sunscreen and beach trips.
"fuck it," he muttered, almost to himself, like the words had snuck out before he'd fully decided on them.
you blinked, glancing at him through the mirror. "what?"
"i'm coming." he said it firmer the second time, like convincing himself as much as you, hands finally pulling back from your shoulders like he'd only just remembered they were there. "beach house. i'm coming."
you turned fully then, eyebrows raised, a laugh already building in your throat. "we're leaving in ten minutes, eric."
"i know what i said."
"you have to shower. and pack. and you're covered in—" you gestured vaguely at the grease still faintly visible along his forearm from earlier in the shop. "that."
"i'm aware." he was already moving, already stepping back out of your room like the decision had physically propelled him into motion, some renewed energy in his stride that hadn't been there a minute ago. "ten minutes."
"eric, there's no way you're—"
"ten minutes," he called again, voice already receding down the hall, and a second later you heard his door slam shut, followed almost immediately by the sound of frantic drawers opening, fabric being yanked out, the unmistakable chaos of a man trying to pack an entire weekend bag in record time purely out of spite for his own better judgment.
you stood there a moment, still in your bikini, sunscreen only half finished, laughing quietly to yourself at the absolute turnaround, at the fact that ten minutes ago he'd sworn up and down he had work to do, and now he was somewhere down the hall swearing at himself while hunting for a swimsuit he probably didn't even own.
the drive out to the beach house passed in a blur of open windows and mara's music blasting too loud from the front seat, eric quiet beside you the whole way, one arm slung along the back of your seat like it belonged there, like he hadn't spent ten frantic minutes swearing at a duffel bag not even an hour earlier.
by the time you arrived, the sun had climbed high and lazy over the water, the beach house sprawling out ahead of you, sandy paths leading down toward the shoreline where a few of dax's friends had already set up towels and a cooler. everyone spilled out of the cars in a scramble of bags and sunglasses, and mara looped her arm through yours the second your feet hit the gravel, already talking about which spot on the sand looked best.
eric hung back near the trunk, hauling bags out with the same silent efficiency he'd shown moving your boxes weeks ago, and it wasn't until you were all inside, dropping things onto the nearest surface, that he finally reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one easy motion.
you weren't prepared for it.
you'd seen glimpses before, the ink crawling up his neck, the shapes disappearing beneath his collar, but nothing had prepared you for the full picture laid bare in the afternoon light. tattoos covered nearly every inch of him, a chaotic, beautiful mess of ink stretched across broad shoulders and down defined arms, over a chest and stomach cut with lean, hard muscle, stars and eyes and things you couldn't fully make sense of all layered over each other like years of stories written into his skin. he was taller than you'd let yourself register before, broader, the kind of built that came from actual labor rather than a gym, and he stood there completely unbothered by his own effect, rolling one shoulder like he was working out a knot from the drive.
your hand found mara's bare shoulder before you even realized you were reaching for something to steady yourself against, fingers gripping just slightly too hard.
"you good?" mara asked, glancing at you sideways, an amused little smile already tugging at her mouth like she knew exactly why you'd gone quiet.
"mhm." your eyes hadn't left eric, who was now crouched over one of the bags, entirely oblivious, or entirely pretending to be, to the fact that you were staring at him like you'd never seen a shirtless man in your life. "yep. great."
"you sure? you're kind of digging into my shoulder there."
"sorry." you loosened your grip, though your eyes still hadn't managed to look anywhere else. "he's just. bigger than i thought."
mara laughed under her breath, following your gaze toward eric with clear, knowing delight. "yeah, he tends to have that effect. give it a minute, you'll get used to it."
"i don't think i will."
eric straightened then, catching the tail end of your stare before you could redirect it, and something shifted in his expression, a slow, knowing smirk pulling at his mouth like he'd caught you red handed and had every intention of enjoying it.
"you good over there?" he called, voice carrying easy across the room, entirely too pleased with himself.
"fine," you managed, tearing your eyes away at last, though the heat crawling up your neck told an entirely different story. "just fine."
"sure you are." he grabbed a towel off the counter, slinging it over one shoulder, tattoos shifting with the movement, and made his way toward the door leading down to the sand, glancing back at you one last time with that same maddening smirk still in place. "coming?"
it took you a second too long to answer, mara still snickering quietly beside you, and by the time you found your voice, he'd already disappeared onto the sand, leaving you standing there trying to remember how your legs worked.
the group made its way down to the pool at the back of the house not long after, dax and a couple of his friends already cannonballing in with more enthusiasm than grace, mara trailing behind with a drink in each hand, laughing at something someone said. you peeled off your cover up at the edge of the water, and when you glanced back once, you caught eric watching, towel still slung over his shoulder, dark eyes tracking your every movement with an intensity he didn't bother hiding this time.
you slipped into the pool slowly, letting the water settle cool around your shoulders, and when you surfaced and pushed your hair back, you found him still watching, jaw tight, towel now abandoned on a lounge chair like he'd forgotten he was holding it. you grinned, catching him fully in the act, and he had the decency to look almost sheepish for half a second before that easy smirk slid back into place, like being caught didn't bother him nearly as much as it should.
"you gonna get in, or just stand there," you called, treading water, entirely too pleased with yourself.
"thinking about it."
"thinking real hard, from the look of it."
he huffed, shaking his head, but he was already moving toward the edge, and the moment he dropped into the water beside you, the pool seemed to shrink around his size, water displacing in a wave that had you laughing as you pushed back from him.
mara's voice cut through the noise a few minutes later, loud and delighted, clearly hatching some plan of her own. "okay, we're doing chicken. teams, let's go."
a chorus of groans and excited shouting followed, dax already hoisting one of his friends up onto his shoulders with more confidence than his balance probably deserved, and mara turned toward you and eric with a look that left absolutely no room for argument.
"you two. obviously."
"obviously," eric repeated, dry, though there was something warm underneath it, some anticipation he wasn't bothering to hide.
"i haven't agreed to anything," you said, though you were already moving closer to him through the water, some part of you fully aware that protest was pointless at this stage.
"too late. mara's declared it." eric turned, crouching slightly in the water, broad shoulders angled toward you, tattoos rippling with the motion beneath the surface. "come on. up you get."
"if you drop me—"
"i'm not gonna drop you." he reached for you, hands sure and steady at your waist, easily hoisting you up onto his shoulders like you weighed nothing at all, and you grabbed at his head for balance, laughing despite yourself as the water settled around his chest below you.
it took a second to get comfortable up there, your thighs settling either side of his neck, his hands coming up automatically to brace against your knees like it was second nature to him, like he'd done this a hundred times before instead of never. once you'd steadied, though, his hands didn't stay still. they drifted, slow and unthinking, down along the outside of your calves, thumbs tracing absent circles against your skin like he wasn't even aware he was doing it, too focused on the coming fight to notice his own fingers wandering.
"comfortable?" he asked, voice tilted up toward you, one hand braced now against your thigh, the other still absently mapping the curve of your calf.
"surprisingly, yes." you settled your hands into his damp hair for balance, fingers curling slightly against his scalp, and felt him go still for half a beat beneath you.
across the pool, dax's friend was already hooting, arms raised, clearly ready for battle, and mara stood poolside with both hands cupped around her mouth like a referee about to start a real match.
"first team to go under loses! ready—"
"we're not losing," eric said, low, just for you, tilting his head back slightly to catch your eye, his fingers pressing gentle into the arch of your foot where it rested against his chest, like he needed something to ground himself in the middle of everything. "you hear me? we're not losing."
"that's a lot of confidence for a man who's about to get dunked."
"watch me."
"go!" mara shouted, and the pool erupted into chaos, water splashing everywhere as the two teams collided.
eric moved steadier than you expected, hips braced low against the pull of the water, one hand splayed wide against your thigh to keep you locked in place while the other kept finding new places to settle, your ankle, the back of your knee, small points of contact that had nothing to do with keeping you balanced. every time he shifted his footing to dodge dax's lunge, his grip would tighten, then loosen, then wander again, fingers trailing absent along your skin like his hands had a mind entirely separate from the fight happening around him.
you barely registered your opponent's hands grabbing for your shoulders, too distracted by the warmth of eric's palm dragging slow against the back of your thigh as he repositioned, and you tugged lightly at his hair for balance, feeling the low sound that left him at the touch, something caught between a laugh and a groan.
"you're supposed to be fighting," he said, voice rough, tilting his head back again.
"you're supposed to be holding still."
"can't help it." his hand slid again, absent, unhurried, along your calf. "you keep moving."
"eric."
"what." he grinned up at you, entirely too pleased with himself, fingers pressing once more into the arch of your foot like he simply couldn't help himself.
the fight ended a moment later in a tangle of splashing limbs, your opponent finally toppling backward off her partner's shoulders with a shriek, and mara declared victory with both arms thrown in the air, but you barely heard it, too aware of eric's hands still resting warm against your legs, his thumb still moving slow against your skin like the game had ended and he'd simply forgotten to stop.
he looked up at you and grinned, squeezing your calf, and you felt yourself swoon a little, some helpless heat spreading through your chest at the sheer easy confidence of it, at the way his hand lingered there like he had every right to touch you like that.
the win got them cheers and splashing praise from the rest of the group, but you barely registered any of it, too busy trying to remember how to breathe normally with his hand still curled warm around your leg.
dinner came and went in a blur after that, plates passed around a long table on the back deck, string lights strung overhead, laughter and stories told too loud over the sound of the waves somewhere beyond the dunes. eric sat close beside you the entire meal, his knee brushing yours more than once beneath the table, neither of them mentioning it, both of them entirely aware.
by the time the night wound down, one by one your friends peeled off toward bed, dax first, then mara not long after, yawning behind her hand and shooting you both a knowing look before disappearing inside that neither of you acknowledged. the pool lights dimmed low, the yard quiet except for the soft hum of the jacuzzi jets and the distant hush of the ocean beyond the fence.
you slipped into the warm water first, sighing as the heat worked into muscles still sore from the pool games earlier, and eric followed a moment later, settling in across from you, close enough that his knee brushed yours beneath the surface.
for a while neither of you said much, the quiet comfortable in a way it hadn't always been between you, the steam curling up around you both in the cool night air. his eyes kept finding you anyway, lingering longer than casual conversation really allowed, and you found yourself doing the same, the two of you caught in some slow, wordless orbit neither of you seemed inclined to break.
"good day?" you said eventually, breaking the silence, voice soft.
"yeah." his gaze dropped briefly to the water between you, then back up, dark and unreadable in the low light. "good day."
the space between you had shrunk without either of you quite deciding to close it, his knee pressed fully against yours now beneath the water, his arm stretched along the edge of the jacuzzi behind you, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat of him along your shoulder.
"you're staring." you murmured, though you made no move to look away yourself.
"yeah." he didn't deny it, didn't even pretend to. "kind of hard not to."
your breath caught slightly at that, at the low, honest weight in his voice, and when you met his eyes properly this time, there was nothing guarded left in them at all, just something open and searching, waiting to see what you'd do with it.
"eric—"
"i know." his voice had gone rough, quiet, like he was fighting something back even as he said it. "i know what this is. i've known for a while."
the water lapped gentle against the both of you, the space between your mouths shrinking by inches neither of you were tracking anymore, his hand finally leaving the edge of the jacuzzi to rest warm against your waist beneath the surface, thumb tracing slow against your hip.
"so what are we gonna do about it?" you asked, barely above a whisper.
his eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering there long enough to answer the question before he even spoke, and when he finally looked back up at you, something had settled into his expression, certain, unhurried, like he'd made peace with whatever came next.
"i think," he said slowly, closing the last of the distance between you, "we've waited long enough."
steam curls thick around the jacuzzi as eric pulls you through the water, his broad chest glistening under the low lights. he sinks onto the submerged bench and drags you onto his lap, thighs spreading wide over his. his cock presses hot and heavy against your belly through the thin fabric of his trunks, already thick and twitching.
"fuck, look at you," he rasps, voice low and rough. his hands grip your hips, thumbs stroking the curve of your waist. "been wanting this since the first night you walked through that door."
he leans in and kisses your neck, open-mouthed and hungry. teeth graze your pulse, tongue following the line of your throat. one hand slides down between your legs, fingers parting your folds under the water. two thick digits push inside you without warning, curling deep. you gasp, hips jerking. eric groans against your skin.
"so fucking wet already. christ." he pumps his fingers slow and deliberate, knuckles brushing your entrance with every thrust. his mouth stays on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, biting just shy of breaking skin. "that's it, baby. take my fingers. such a good girl for me."
your hand slips under the waistband of his trunks, fingers wrapping around his thick cock. you stroke him in time with the thrust of his fingers inside you, palm sliding over the head, thumb teasing the slit. eric's hips buck up into your fist. he buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin while you moan into his ear, mewling and whining.
"please," you beg, voice shaking. "don't stop. fingers feel so good. need more."
eric adds a third finger, stretching you wider, scissoring inside your cunt. the water sloshes around you both. his free hand cups your breast, thumb flicking your nipple until it pebbles tight. you jerk him faster, grip tightening as he leaks pre-cum over your fingers.
"ride them," he orders into your neck, voice strained and muffled. "show me how bad you need it. fuck, your hand feels so good on my cock."
you obey, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers while your fist works his shaft. eric curls those fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your thighs shake. praise spills from him between kisses to your throat.
"fuck, you're perfect. so tight around my hand. gonna make you cum so hard on my fingers. good girl. my good fucking girl."
your moans grow louder in his ear, desperate little whines and pleas tumbling out as you stroke him faster. eric's teeth sink into your neck, muffling his own sounds while his fingers pump relentlessly. your walls flutter around him, orgasm building fast.
"please, eric," you beg, voice cracking. "make me cum. need it so bad."
his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles while his fingers thrust deep. your hand jerks him harder, twisting on the upstroke. eric groans into your neck, hips stuttering as you both edge closer. "cum for me, baby. let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze my fingers. good girl. so fucking good."
your orgasm crashes over you, cunt pulsing around his fingers, moans spilling into his ear as you mewling and whining. eric follows right after, cock throbbing in your fist as he spills hot cum over your hand under the water, face still buried in your neck.
then you're giggling into his ear, breath hot against his skin. "is your cock pierced?"
eric groans, low and guttural, and his head falls back against the jacuzzi with a heavy thunk. his chest heaves, fingers still buried inside you as he catches his breath. "fuck, baby... see for yourself."
you shift on his lap, lifting just enough to tug his trunks lower. his cock springs free under the water, thick and flushed, and there it is—a thick silver prince albert piercing gleaming through the head, catching the light. your fingers trace over it, feeling the cool metal against his hot skin. eric watches you through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight, hips twitching as your hand explores the piercing, thumb circling the ring while your other hand keeps stroking his shaft.
"shit," he mutters into your neck, voice wrecked. his fingers curl inside you again, pumping slow and deep, thumb still working your clit. "feel that? all for you. been thinking about this since you got here."
you keep giggling softly, stroking him with both hands now, one focused on the piercing, tugging gently at the ring. eric's groans turn into muffled sounds against your throat, his free hand gripping your ass, spreading you wider as his fingers thrust harder. water splashes around you, your moans and whines filling his ear while he buries himself in your neck, body shaking under your touch.
you both dissolve into giggles, the sound light and breathless as the high fades. your bodies still connected, his cock softening inside you with the prince albert ring resting warm against your walls.
eric's chest shakes under your palm as he laughs, muffled at first until you ease your hand away. "fuck," he says, voice low and rough, "i can't wait to do that at home. just you and me, no one around to hear how loud we get."
you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling close. he shifts beneath you, muscles flexing as he stands in one smooth motion, lifting you both up and out of the jacuzzi. water cascades off your skin, dripping onto the tiles. his hands stay firm under your thighs, keeping you wrapped around him as he steps out, the cool air hitting your wet bodies. his cock slips free with a wet sound, the prince albert catching one last time before he sets you down gently on the edge, still holding you close.
"thank fuck for roommates.." he muttered into your ear as his nose brushed under your jaw bone, a smile lifting his lips at your giggle.
