𐔌 . ⋮ foxygrll .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @foxygrll - Tumblr Blog

flesh is the law | supervixen part 2

eddie munson x reader

summary: sequel to supervixen. a supposedly celibate hangout with eddie inches its way in the obvious direction. you both end up getting a little bit more than you bargained for. 13.8k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, AGE IN BIO OR I WILL BLOCK YOU <\3. fem!reader w/ breasts and a vulva. porn with plot. fwbs that are quite clearly in love with each other. very enthusiastic consent w/ a lot of check-ins and communication and yapping. mommy kink, (mostly) soft femdom, very sub + still inexperienced eddie, but the power dynamic isn't taken that seriously. piv, orgasm control, sort of rough face-riding with mild suffocation. eddie's kinda bratty. experimenting with anal play/fingering (on him). eddie sort of subdrops at the end and is comforted accordingly. more tags on ao3!

a/n: named after the genitorturers song 😝 thank you to scarlet @scarlet-bitch for beta reading this for me! 💞

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“You want a soda?” Eddie calls from the kitchen.

You tear your eyes off of the TV to glance at him across the trailer, bent at the waist with his head in the refrigerator, shifting lightly side to side. Antsy as ever.

“There’s a couple beers, too,” he offers. “...Or, uh…milk? Wait—”

Eddie snatches the half-gallon of milk out and twists the lid off, hesitating only a moment before taking a sniff. He recoils instantly, a ripple of aversion traveling down his body as he gags. Then he shakes his head, muttering an “oh, fuck” under his breath as he goes to dump it down the sink.

“...Nevermind,” he calls, complimented by the glug glug glug of liquid pouring down the drain. “The milk’s, uh… The milk’s fucked.”

You beam your smile at the back of his oblivious head, charmed as always by his ways.

Today is, as Eddie assured you near-excessively over the phone, a without sex hangout. You’ve been seeing a hell of a lot more of each other ever since you finally had a proper conversation about what exactly you were doing together, what you wanted from each other. Whereas before, you’d only come to see him about as often as it made sense to restock your supply, maybe once or twice a month, now, you tend to see him that many times in a week.

Something just works between the two of you. No matter how often you see each other, how long you’re in each others’ company, you never, ever get tired of him, and you’re pretty inclined to think he feels the same. You feel supercharged around him, filled to the brim with easy warmth and very devious thoughts, your skin buzzing with a staticky need to keep him close at hand. You’re drawn to each other like magnets, hardly able to keep your hands off of each other even fully clothed and decent, and for that reason alone, it’s no wonder that most of your innocent rendezvous end up abandoning their celibacy by the end of it. He’s just too goddamn fun to play with, too sweet and well-mannered not to spoil.

This time, he all but pinky-promised that he only wanted to hang out, his voice strung tight with his typical anxiety at the ridiculous prospect of using you, or making you feel obligated to sleep with him—as if you aren’t still the one to initiate, in your conservative estimate, about ninety-percent of the time. But if he's really so determined to prove to you that he can keep it in his pants, you suppose you can find it in your heart to let him.

“...Still have Dr. Pepper?” you call back.

Eddie whips around with a pointed smile, and you know exactly what’s coming.

“Actually, it’s Dr. Bob,” he says, ludicrously pleased to correct you. Probably because it’s the third time he’s had to.

“Don’t get pedantic with me, Munson,” you warn, watching his grin grow even wider, “or you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya.”

He sticks his tongue out at you and spins back around, returning to the fridge to retrieve your order.

The fridge door falls closed with a muted thunk and Eddie returns to the living room. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of you, so close that you have to tilt your head almost straight up to look at his face—climbing up past his gray-brown sweatpants and black Testament t-shirt with a peeling graphic, cropped enough that the slightest lift of his arm is bound to reveal his tummy—and find him staring down at you with an impish little smirk. He holds the can of Dr. Bob out to you, but when you raise your hand to take it, he lifts it out of your reach with a scolding ah-ah-ah. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Say please,” he instructs, outrageously smug.

Talk about biting off more than you can chew. A recurring role of yours he’s quite familiar with overtakes you automatically under his expectant stare. You fix your posture, poke and squeeze your chest out until you’re sure he can see down your shirt; lick your lips wet and pout them, and give him the most concentrated dose you can muster of what you’d lovingly dub your blowjob eyes.

“...Please, Eddie?” you ask—the same whiny, desperate, falsely innocent tone you’d use to beg his compassion in your poor, penniless state.

His face twitches, pulls excessively strained for a moment, and then melts into an uneasy smile as he shakes his head.

“Christ,” he mutters, surrendering the goods. “You’re…way too good at that.”

You drop the act and flash him a proud grin as you accept your prize. As he shuffles past you, you give him a pat on the butt and he pretends to clutch the affected cheek in scandal, scolding you with a cute little “hey!”

Eddie settles back down in his previous spot on the couch beside you, sitting perpendicular to you with his knees pulled up, back against the armrest, his socked toes seeking refuge beneath your thigh.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, popping the tab on his root beer.

Oh, right. You’re supposed to be watching a movie. It’s something about… “spinal tap,” you think. Eddie’s seen it a million times, apparently, so he isn’t overly focused on it, and your attention would have trouble fully divorcing from him even in a room with every celebrity crush you’ve ever had served up for you on a solid-gold platter.

“...Shit,” you say, staring blankly at the screen. “I don’t know.”

“Why? Was something distracting you?” His voice is muffled slightly by the lip of his soda can, his eyes shining with a pinch of residual smugness.

It’s hard not to just beam at him—pleased and tickled by his confidence, proud to have had a part in creating it. “How could I not be distracted with such a pretty boy waiting on me hand and foot?”

“Flatterer,” he accuses, wiggling his toes between you and the couch. “...I bet you say that to all the boys.”

You scoff at him. “You’re crazy. I’ve never even seen another boy in my entire life.”

He tucks his chin into his chest, bringing forth the curtains of his hair to conceal his cheesy smile. “Alright, quit flirting with me, damnit,” he attempts to reprimand. “I told you before, this evening is gonna be PG-13 at most.”

“PG-13?” you repeat.

“Yup.”

You tilt your head aside thoughtfully. “...We can still use tongue, though, right?”

The laugh you earn from him warms your face a little. “Stop,” he pretends to groan. “Goddamnit. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“You’ve already been blushing for like, five minutes.”

“Fuck,” he curses, covering half his face with one hand. “Jesus, look away. Don’t watch me, watch the movie.”

Fine. You’ll give it a shot.

“Stretch your legs out,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“I like the weight on my lap.”

He does as instructed, sinking a little lower into the cushions to lay his legs over your thighs, crossed at the ankles. The pressure at least marginally helps you focus on the screen, even if your thoughts are still liable to wander somewhere else—somewhere apparently beyond the scope of this evening’s content rating. You’re taking in images and sounds more than actual information, and your hands take advantage of the offering in your lap, rubbing and squeezing idly at his legs while you alternate between watching the movie and zoning out.

A sudden peep from Eddie yanks you back from your concentrated stupor, and you turn your head to find him staring back at you, eyes a little wide, smile a little tense. Your gaze snaps down to find your own hand, carried by your mindless massage all the way to the top of his thigh—your fingertips brushing the inside, dangerously close to what sits between them. Startling just slightly, you swipe your hand back to his knee and give it an apologetic pat, smiling compulsively.

“Sorry,” you say. “...Force of habit.”

You do your best to refocus on the movie with renewed effort, not wanting him to feel like you have no interest whatsoever in the things he likes, only it doesn’t last for very long, because your little slip-up has rendered him squirmy. Adjusting himself, his legs over your lap—only barely, but incessantly. Staring at you in the corner of your eye, quiet and more than obvious. And when he stretches his back almost obscenely, both arms thrown over his head and bent at the elbow, back arching over the armrest, putting his entire stomach and the dark line of hair that splits it on display for so absurdly long that you’re practically forced to steal an eyeful, you nearly roll your eyes, fighting hard against a smile.

…Well. So much for without sex.

When Eddie comes down from his unsubtle flirtation, his eyes find you watching him blatantly and pop open wide, his face dipping instantly into a bashful, pink-tinged smile as he forces his eyes back on the screen. A blushing goddamn temptress.

You chew on your lip as you think about it, waiting a good five or so minutes to make sure your retaliation has enough space for reasonable doubt. Then, you sigh, forcing your expression neutral as you give his legs a couple solid pats.

“Off, please.”

Perking up unabashedly, Eddie swings his legs off of your lap and watches very closely as you stand up, stretching your own back with a lot more nonchalance, and pleased with the yawn it triggers for added credibility. Whatever you’re doing, he’s more than prepared to follow.

“Can I take a nap in your room?” you ask.

He frowns, eyebrows pinching together tightly. “Uh… I guess?”

There’s an almost petulant undertone to his voice, pouty for having been disinvited, and you have to bite your cheek to keep your face in check.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say, twice as cheerful in the face of his sulking.

He verges on offended as you spin gleefully around and make your way through the trailer towards his bedroom, grinning proudly to yourself all the while. When you push past the door and step into his room, you wait a few seconds, unbutton your jeans, and then call back down the hall:

“Are you coming, or not?”

Your face scrunches up, overloaded with glee at the sound of his mad scramble. He must bump into a couple pieces of furniture in his race to turn the TV off, and soon enough, he’s practically running down the hall to catch up.

Just as he bursts into the room, he goes stock still to find you bent over, tugging your jeans off of your ankles. You look back at him over your shoulder and find him dumbstruck.

“...What?” you ask, wearing just a hint of a smirk. “Can’t a girl get comfortable?”

“No, yeah—totally,” he says, nodding for emphasis. “Do you, uh…wanna borrow some pants, or—?”

“Nope.”

Clad in only your top and a pair of little black panties he’d complimented a few weeks back, you climb onto his bed (actually made, mysteriously enough, as though he knew someone else might see it today) and flop onto your back, curling your legs up and reaching one arm out to him with a grabby hand motion. Eddie pushes the door closed and heeds your call with a growing smile. He kneels on the mattress and then offers his arm, letting you tug him until he falls onto his side next to you.

“Hi,” he says.

“C’mere,” you respond.

Bullying him how you want him, you yank him closer, push him onto his back, and then cuddle into his side, throwing one leg over his. Eddie loves every second of it, curling his arm around you and giggling as you subject him to the same squirmy behavior he was giving you earlier while you get comfortable. Cheek on his chest, you hum your pleasure and stuff your hand up his shirt, rubbing warm fingers over his tummy.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he jokes.

You exhale a laugh through your nose. “Not particularly,” you insist—as if you have to try. “...But you were trying to seduce me, weren’t you?” You drag your hand lower, scratch your nails through his happy trail. “Showing this off, teasing me.”

“...Um.” He lets out an airy little laugh. “I mean, I wasn’t…”

He trails off.

“...No?”

“...I wasn’t trying to— I mean, we don’t—” He cuts himself off, stiffening just a little as your searching fingers slip beneath the band of his underwear in search of denser hair; scratching and twirling idly at his bush. “Uh…”

“You weren’t trying to…?” you prompt innocently.

“Yeah, shit, I— I just…don’t want you to think…” He swallows. You're making it hard for him to focus. “I mean, I told you we didn’t have to…do anything, and I meant it. I don’t expect you to… I don’t expect anything. Just you, y’know? Just…hanging out.”

You smile all the way through his awkward monologue, endeared as always by your darling boy. How he could think that he’s in any danger of pressuring you when you’re the one who can hardly be trusted alone with him for more than ten minutes without unhinging your jaw and trying to devour him whole, you have no clue.

But, sure. You can at least try to humor him.

“...Okay,” you agree. “We don't have to do anything. ...You wanna just kiss a little?”

The question itself is a tease, which is why the look he gives you when you lift your head to see his face is mildly exasperated. As if he has ever not wanted to kiss a little. He nods with a degree of reluctance that implies he thinks he shouldn’t even have to.

Retracting your hand from his underwear, you bring your nails up to your nose and sniff. Eddie scrunches his nose at you.

“What?” you say, sniffing again. “It smells like you.”

“That’s kinda pervy,” he informs you regrettably.

The accusation makes you grin like a wolf. You hold your fingers up to him in offering, but he jerks back in refusal, smiling just as wide as he pushes your hand away. “Gross.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you groan, then reach even further to grab at his shoulder, tugging him towards you. “Get over here.”

Eddie rolls onto his side with a giggle, putting himself face to face with you.

Smiling at each other in the quiet, you take in his sweet face and big, bright, curly-lashed eyes for as long as you can stand before holding him by the cheek and leaning in to press your lips together.

The first one is short—he’s smiling a little too hard for it to be more than a mushy peck—but as you swing your leg over his hip to tug him even closer and Eddie’s arms wrap comfortably around your middle, you fall into a pleasant, lazy rhythm. Slow, warm, cherished presses; savoring the taste and feel of each other, the wet, soft squish of your lips, again and again; pausing now and then to smile, breathe out a laugh or breathe in a forgotten inhale. The quiet little smacks of each brief parting are the only sounds that fill the room, and it’s almost frustrating how satisfying it feels. Everything else falls out of existence, everything but you and Eddie tasting each other, limbs entwined, right here and now. You could probably keep it up for hours—just this and nothing more—and the mere thought of doing so makes your face heat up against his.

…You’re starting to think you might have a crush on him.

Eddie breaks first. As chaste as this little makeout has been, it’s still working the both of you up just fine. When you decide to take his rosy bottom lip between your teeth and tug, he hums in his throat, pitching up dangerously close to a whine. An answering hum vibrates in yours and you surge forward, pressing harder, pulling closer, determined to draw more out of him.

You swipe your tongue between his lips and another little sound jumps out. His own tongue is sluggish to follow, tentatively brushing against yours with uncertainty you can taste, like he isn't quite sure that it's a good idea if the goal here is not to have sex. All his hesitation does is make it easier for you to take charge, and next thing you know, you've ended up on top of him entirely, swiping your tongue behind his teeth until his moans buzz against your lips.

You pull back to give him a breather with a loud, wet smack, and Eddie looks like he might be getting lightheaded.

“...I thought we were just kissing,” he says, pretty eyes fluttering over your face.

“We are,” you insist.

He doesn’t seem convinced. You slot your lips back against his, open-mouthed and greedy, and bully one hand back into his shirt, at first just feeling his hot skin beneath your palm, the rise and fall of his breathing, and then pushing his shirt up more deliberately. His own hands are rigid on your hips, digging in tight as if to keep them from misbehaving. Cute little hums and soft moans ring in his throat more freely now, muffled against your mouth, but when your wandering fingers find his nipple and give it a mean pinch, it startles him into a gasp. His head jerks back automatically but you don’t let him escape, spreading your other hand over his collarbones and forcing your tongue into his mouth like you own it, teasing his hard little bud with your fingers all the while. He groans around your intrusion so loud it almost startles you right back, and when you finally relent long enough for him to breathe again, he's already panting, his eyes closed tight, brows pinching together.

“Fuck,” he groans. “...You’re killing me.”

You start to reel back, intending to sit yourself on his lap, but Eddie’s grip on your hips suddenly digs in even harder, trying to keep you in place. His eyes pop open and go round as saucers.

You give him a funny look. “...Need something?”

“...No,” he says, a little stilted, “no, it’s just—”

You lean back even more insistently, fighting his grasp until it fails, and sit yourself, seemingly, directly on an ear of corn. Your eyebrows fly to the ceiling.

“That better be a gun in your pocket, Munson.”

“Fuck—I’m sorry,” he insists, grunting as you shift your hips to settle yourself. “You were just—shit—doing a lot.”

“You’re so goddamn easy,” you taunt, as if you weren’t just conducting medieval warfare on his arousal response. You grind your hips down even harder to tease him and he whines at the feeling, staring up at you with his jaw clenched tight.

Eddie almost groans in relief as you lift yourself off of him, scooting down his body to examine his erection, standing proud and tall in his sweatpants. You flick your eyes up to his face with a faux disapproving look and shake your head.

“Y'know, Eddie, just because I'm a huge slut doesn't mean I'm gonna help you out every time you pop a stiffy in front of me.”

It sends him sputtering just as quickly as you hoped it would. He lifts himself onto his elbows and stares back at you in horror.

“Whuh— What? No, I know that, I'm not— I mean, fuck, I don't— I don't think you're a slut.”

You cock your head at him, blinking innocently. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head profusely, so deathly serious that it makes your heart swell. “No. Shit, of course not.”

You hum at that, appraising his dire face with a mild pout, and then slump your shoulders in exaggerated disappointment.

“...Christ, Munson, what’s it gonna take?”

His brow furrows comically in confusion, and you flip your face into a devilish grin as you wrap your hand around him, giving him a squeeze through the fabric that makes his jaw drop open with a stuttered gasp.

“...Might as well put it to good use,” you reason. “Don’t you think?”

Eddie swallows, muffling a moan as you start stroking your fingers against him, up and down.

“Um… Yeah, if you want,” he says agreeably, voice pitched a little higher in strain.

“If I want,” you repeat, shaking your head at him again. “If you haven't noticed yet, I always want to. I'm kind of a huge slut.”

The wink you throw him makes him smile, but you knock it off his face just as fast as you whip your shirt off and throw it carelessly behind you, putting your bare chest on full display. Eddie, as per usual, gawks at it like he’s never seen a pair of tits before.

“Since you're raring to go already,” you say, flopping onto your back beside him and shimmying out of your panties too, “why don't you come warm me up a little?”

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

Ripping his own shirt enthusiastically over his head, he shifts himself until he’s on top of you, your legs parting to make room for him. You spread your hands over the expanse of his chest as he leans down to kiss you again, then trails a sloppy path down to your chest. He takes in a good mouthful of your left breast, humming his pleasure into your skin, and gives the other an indulgent grope. It sends a bolt of pleasure straight between your legs, and you give a low moan in encouragement, one hand threaded into his hair, the other stroking along his back and shoulder.

He sucks hard at your breast, swirling his tongue pleasantly around your nipple and watching your face as he does, and you can’t help but look down your nose at him with a little smirk.

“Looking for milk?” you joke.

His attentive eyes squint into a glare that makes you giggle, and you breathe in a gasp as he sucks even harder, digging his teeth in in reprimand.

Releasing your skin with a pop, he switches his attention to the other breast and glides one hand between your legs. He rubs a slow, wide circle over your pussy with all of his fingers, warm and calloused, deliciously foreign against your swollen lips.

You can tell you’re already pretty wet and you’ve probably been at least moist for as long as you’ve been here, as difficult as it is to keep your little fantasies at bay around him. You might’ve unintentionally pavloved yourself a little. It’s sort of hard to look at him without thinking about choking on his dick.

Eddie catches on pretty quickly, not wasting much time before easing a finger into you, sinking gently to the hilt with a soft sucking noise that makes him groan.

“Shit,” he detaches again to say. “...Jesus, you’re so tight.”

“Keep going,” you urge him, bucking your hips a little for emphasis. “Feels good.”

He starts thrusting and sucks harsher at your tit, enough to drop your jaw in a silent gasp and let your eyes flutter closed, savoring the sensations.

“More, Eddie.”

He pulls his finger out, lines back up, and pushes two in instead. The tight stretch is so satisfying that your moan jumps out louder than you intend, and Eddie startles, pausing his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” he checks.

“No, it's good,” you assure him, close to whining with need. “Please, Eddie, fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Your words spur him into an almost manic energy as he gets back to work. He kisses and bites an urgent path back up your chest and onto your neck. You turn your head for him and he latches onto your throat, digging his teeth in and sucking a mean bruise into your skin, just how you like it. You cry out at the feeling, closing your fist in his hair to hold him there, push him harder.

He thrusts his fingers into you fervently, stretching wide and plunging deep with a vulgar, ceaseless shlick shlick shlick. You tilt your hips up, helping him find the spot that makes your legs shake, and when his other hand kneads again at your breast, pinching at your nipple just like you did his, you let out a long, helpless whine, blissed out from his coordinated assault.

“Fuck, Eddie, that's so good,” you tell him. He hums into your neck, pleased.

He speeds up his fingers even more, his palm smacking into your clit with each frantic thrust, and his hand turns almost bruising on your breast, grabbing tight around your nipple and twisting just enough to hurt. The jolt of pain ricochets down to your core and makes you clench around him hard enough to stall his pace, and Eddie groans at the feeling.

“Shit, Eddie!” you almost sob.

His mouth leaves your throat just long enough to mumble beneath your ear. “Y'wanna cum like this?”

God, yes. If you didn't already have a plan in mind, you'd almost beg for it. It takes some serious internal convincing before you have it in you to stop him.

“...No,” you breathe, sucking in a gasp. “No, I want you to feel me.”

“Fuck, okay.”

He retreats completely, sitting on his heels and wiping his wet fingers on the thigh of his sweatpants, seeming to catalogue the sight of you—still lightly panting, bruised on the neck, messy between the legs. You smile at his attention.

“I'm ready,” you tell him.

He jerks his head in a nod, gives your thigh a squeeze, and all but throws himself to the side of the bed, kicking his pants and underwear off with laughable impatience before yanking open the top drawer of his bedside table and rifling around. He returns just as urgently with a condom and a little bottle of lube in hand, pushing his way between your legs again.

He's about to raise the foil to his teeth like he always does, but you sit up to intercept it halfway, snatching it out of his hand. He blinks in surprise but puts on a little smile, probably thinking that you just wanted to put it on him yourself. Instead, you fling it blindly across the room. Eddie's face falls into heinous confusion, whipping towards the condom's trajectory and then right back to you.

“Uh…”

“It's fine,” you assure him with a proud smile. “You don't need it.”

His face twists even more egregiously, very much skeptical of the fact. “...I think that's—”

“I'm on the pill.”

He blinks at you—the words didn’t penetrate. “...What?”

“I'm on the pill,” you repeat, enunciating.

He blinks at you a few more times, eyes growing wider as he processes, and you can't help but giggle at the sight. You drag one hand from your chest all the way down between your legs, parting your fingers to spread yourself wide open for him, and his eyes lock onto it hopelessly.

“You don't need it, Eddie,” you tease again, sing-song.

His bubble finally bursts, and he flops forward with an almost pained expression, his forehead handing on your stomach, hands gripping both of your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, tortured enough to make you laugh again.

With renewed urgency, Eddie whips back up, flipping open the top of the lube.

“Let me do it,” you ask, reaching your hand out.

He surrenders it to you mindlessly. Snapping it open yourself, you squirt a little bit into your palm before closing it and setting the bottle beside you. Eddie sidles up to you until your thighs rest on top of his, and watches with muted excitement as you take his cock in your hand. His abdomen tenses up and he hisses as you spread the cool liquid gingerly over his veiny length and then stop, wrapped tight just below his tip. You flick your eyes up to him.

“C'mon,” you nudge gently.

As it clicks, he pushes out a breath, bobbing his head a couple times. You smile as he shifts his hips forward and back again, fucking slowly into your vice grip, a curse escaping under his breath at the feeling.

“Good,” you tell him with a smile. “Faster.”

He speeds up, biting down on his bottom lip and muffling a whine in his throat as he punches his wet cock through your fist. It's sort of embarrassing—his face burns redder than it has all day, but he doesn't shy away from it. Before long, though, he says your name.

“I just— If you want me to last,” he says, voice a little wobbly. “I—”

Smiling even wider, you take mercy on him, abandoning your grasp and wiping the excess lube on your hand between your legs instead. Eddie breathes out in relief.

“Let me feel you, Eddie.”

As he lines himself up at your entrance, he pauses, staring down at it with his brow furrowed and his lips parted like he's drunk off the sight alone.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “...You’re sure this is okay?”

“Super sure.” You gave it a couple weeks just to be safe, and you’ve been excited to surprise him with it ever since.

Eddie takes a moment to drag his tip through your wet slit, savoring the sensation of skin on skin, the look of it. He grinds it into your clit and looks up at you cutely for any reaction. You smile at him, wiggling your hips a little to grind right back against him with a hum, and Eddie smiles too.

“I’m getting antsy, Eds,” you warn.

He grins even wider, almost embarrassed. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer, pressing his tip into your entrance and then carefully pushing his hip forwards until he pops inside. The sensation makes his face twitch.

“S’that hurt?” he checks, just a little breathless.

“No, you’re fine.” Your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling at him. “Give it to me, Eddie.”

The request makes him grunt. Eddie always takes it almost painstakingly slow at first, scared of hurting you despite all your assurances. It’s not like he’s so big that he ought to be concerned about ripping you in half, or anything—it’s the kind of comfortable, snug pressure that would only really hurt if he tried to shove it in dry. Almost every time, you end up having to lean into your enjoyment, moaning and tugging at him and begging for more until he loosens up and starts enjoying it, too. With someone else, it might get aggravating, but with Eddie, it’s a treasured routine.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His head keeps jerking back and forth, watching your face and then his naked cock dipping into you, back and forth. “You feel so fucking good, and I— Shit, I can feel you. Fuckin’ soaking me.”

You hook your hand around your knee and pull it back. Eddie takes your hint, pushing it even further to secure it over his shoulder, and the next time he thrusts into you, he groans at the depth of it, the sight of your bushes pressed flush together. You swear you can feel him all the way behind your belly button, and the drag of him pushing in and out of your resistance is enough to have your clit throbbing.

“You feel even bigger without the condom.”

Eddie glances up and rolls his eyes at you, scoffing out a laugh between measured breaths.

“I’m serious!” you insist, laughing too. “You’re so fucking deep, it feels like you’re in my stomach.”

Just saying it gets a moan out of him. He starts to focus now, keeping his eyes on your face, trying to angle his hips up with each thrust. Maybe to distract himself, he leans over again to kiss and suck at your chest and neck, leaving slobbery lovebites all over. You can hear his breathing shift into open-mouthed panting, colored by short little whines and moans, muffled sometimes against your skin.

Now that he’s really starting to sweat, you decide it’s about time to drop the bomb you’ve been sitting on.

“Don’t cum, Eddie.”

His hips stutter and then pause, eyes flickering back up to you in alarm. “...What?”

“I don’t want you to cum inside me,” you say, and his face twists up in confusion.

“Whuh… Why not? I thought you said—”

“You’ve been saving it up for me, right? Like I asked you to?”

His eyes flare open wider, cheeks darkening as he jerks his head in a little nod, and you give him a grin. It wasn’t a serious ask, more of a random thought that came to mind a couple weeks back—something to fluster him with in the afterglow, soft and controlling enough to make his tired dick jump with renewed interest—but even if he’s lying, you’re pleased that he wants to please you nonetheless. You reach up to rest a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I don’t want you to waste it, baby,” you murmur sweetly, and your smile pulls sharp at the edges. “...You know mommy likes you to cum in her mouth.”

His expression bursts into slack-jawed shock in an instant, and a moment later, he hangs his head in weakness.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans; deep, raspy, tortured. “...Are we doing this?”

A delighted giggle springs out of you. After the climactic slip-up that inadvertently put the M-word on the table, you’ve kept it firmly in your back pocket, only pulling it out those times you’ve coaxed him somewhere frail and needy enough for it to devastate him. But today, after the demure little seduction routine he tried to pull on you earlier, all you’ve been able to think about is giving him much, much more than he bargained for.

“Your call, pretty boy,” you tell him.

Dropping even lower, he grumbles something into your collarbone.

“What’s that?” A knowing grin stretches across your face. “You want to?”

You feel his nod more than you see it, and you click your tongue at him.

“Good boys use their words, Eddie.”

With a huff that teeters on the edge of bratty, he lifts his head again and pouts. “...I want to.”

“You want to what?” you prompt with patience.

“...I wanna be good for you.”

“There’s my good boy,” you gush with an endeared squint, giving his cheek a quick pinch that only makes him blush even brighter. An odd little noise gets caught in the back of his throat, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

“Now keep going, honey,” you tell him. Eager as ever, he sucks in a breath and pulls out with a slow drag before snapping his hips again in a steady rhythm. “...Make mommy cum on your pretty cock, and then she’ll let you fill up her mouth. S’that sound good, Eddie?”

He’s already adjusting your knee over his shoulder, splitting you even wider, watching your face with an intent furrow in his brow as he searches for an angle you like. The little nod he gives you is almost distracted, and his instant focus makes you smile, but you know that he knows better.

“I told you to use your words,” you remind him.

“Yes, please,” he stumbles over himself to say. “Sorry. Wanna make you cum.”

“I know you do,” you say with fondness. “Such a sweet boy. You’re already making me feel so good.”

Your hand at his cheek travels slowly around to cup the back of his neck instead, and Eddie whines at your praise. You bring your other hand down to rub slow, lazy circles at your clit.

“...Can you hear it?” you ask. “How wet I am? That’s all for you, baby.”

“Shit,” he breathes with your name. “...You make me so fuckin’ hard.”

His perpetual, adorable need to return the compliment. You nearly scrunch your face up. You let him work in peace for maybe half a minute before a lightbulb goes off in your head; something else to try and knock him off-kilter.

“...Careful, Eddie,” you warn. His bleary eyes focus on your face again, wholly attentive. “...If you make me a real mommy, I won’t have time to play with you anymore.”

“Fuck,” he spits, squinting his eyes closed.

His dick tries to jump inside of you, setting off a little squeeze of your own. You make a mental note to add breeding to your list of future torture material.

“Aww… you like that, huh?” you coo at him. “...You wanna fill me up, Eddie? Over and over and over again, keep trying until it sticks?”

“Jesus—fuck,” he hisses through his teeth.

He only pauses for a second, not quite long enough to scold him for it, but you can tell he’s getting dangerously close. His rhythm is getting sloppy, slowing down by the second in reluctance to approach his own climax prematurely; his skin is shiny with sweat, rolling down his face and neck, your knee starting to slide against his shoulder. In an act of desperation, he tries to bat your lazy hand away from your clit to replace it with his more urgent, heavy-handed stimulation, and you gasp at him, mostly for show.

“Did I ask you to do that?” you question as you pointedly shove his hand away.

“It’s taking too long,” he tries to explain, pushed tight out of his throat.

“You’re doing just fine,” you assure him. “I’m getting close, honey, just a little longer.”

His answering groan is downright miserable.

Making a show of it, you speed up your own fingers a little and start leaning into your moans rather than stifling them, pitching higher and ringing louder, shameless in a way that always drives him crazy. It isn’t long before the first time he stops altogether.

“Eddie,” you scold instantly, and he closes his eyes again, his head drooping down, his sticky thighs shaking against the undersides of yours.

“Just—fuck, I need a second,” he grits out, “and then I—”

“You can’t stop,” you tell him. “I’m getting so close, baby. If you stop, we’ll lose all this progress and have to start over again.”

He opens his eyes just to shoot you a pitiful look. “I can’t… I don’t think I can—”

“Of course you can, honey,” you cut him off. “You’re always so good for me, I know you can do it.”

Eddie isn’t remotely in agreement with you. You dig your nails into his back, just a pinch of tough love.

“Come on, Eddie,” you urge.

He looks like a wilting flower as he tries to keep going for you, thrusting slow, deep, and severely reluctant, but that isn’t enough to save him. The sluggish pace gives you plenty of opportunity to clench down on him strategically, turning each outward stroke into a tight, clinging, excruciating drag. The first time you do it, a loud, choked up moan punches out of his throat, and he tenses up so hard, you think he’s going to blow it right then and there. The second time, he tries to brace for it, breathing harshly through his teeth, but he still only barely endures it, trembling like a leaf, jaw slung open in a silent gasp.

“...Can you stop?” he begs, thrusting back in about a centimeter at a time to avoid getting chastised.

You have to bite down a grin. “Stop what?”

“Squeezing me like that,” he grits out. “I can’t take it.”

“I’m not trying to, baby,” you lie sweetly. “It just feels so good, I can’t help it.”

You’re pretty sure he knows that you’re fucking with him this time—you’d be a little concerned if he didn’t—but still, the look he gives you is purely despondent, appealing uselessly to your sense of mercy with egregious puppy dog eyes.

One more time, you tighten around him like a vice as he tries to escape your heat intact, and it must bring him to the point of no return. Eddie jerks his hips back until only the tip is inside you and stops, gasping loudly as he does so. Frozen in place, his face scrunches up tight in desperation, arms shuddering on either side of you, entire body shuddering as he tries to hold back the inevitable.

Ever unsympathetic, you smile as you glide your hands slowly down his sweaty back, dipping with the curve of his spine before resting over the globes of his ass. You grab two mean handfuls and pull, forcing him to bottom out again, and Eddie cries out almost like it hurts.

“Shit!” His mouth falls open, gasping and panting as he glides back out. “Fuck, I can’t—”

Another tug, the slap of his balls against your skin deafening in the small room, and he almost crumples into you.

“Please, mommy, I can’t—” His voice shakes just as much as the rest of him. “M’not gonna—”

One more thrust, and with a sharp gasp, he gives in. No longer trying to escape, he pushes forward instead, too close to tipping over the edge to care about being good anymore.

“Oh, honey,” you sigh, utterly condescending as he whimpers, hiding his face in your neck as he ruts into you, quick and shallow like a puppy in heat. The adorable, pathetic desperation of it makes you clench around him involuntarily, and that’s what does him in.

“Oh, fuck—fuck!”

The whiny, aching moan that leaves him as he climaxes is almost heartwrenching. He clutches you tightly, hips pressed to yours with bruising force as he pumps into you, pressed so deep that you can feel his tip digging into your cervix. He drops his weight on you and it briefly tricks you into thinking he’s done, but with another sweet, helpless whine, his hips grinding into yours like he’s trying to get even deeper, you feel his balls clench up against you as he spills into you one, two, three more times, and finally goes entirely limp.

…Christ, that was a big one. It makes you wonder if he really was saving it up for you like he claimed; keeping his hands off of himself, letting himself get pent up to give you the pleasure of draining it all out of him. If you hadn’t already put so much work into making sure he’d give you a reason to punish him, you’d be very, very proud of him.

“...Eddie,” you say, heaving on as much grim disappointment as you can manage. He whines pathetically next to your ear, and it’s a good thing he’s hiding from you, because your lips pull into a fierce, adoring grin. It takes you a moment to force it back down. “I thought you were gonna be good for me.”

He mumbles something inaudible into your shoulder, so you thread your fingers into his sweaty hair, tugging just hard enough for him to get the hint. Quite reluctantly, he pushes himself back up onto his elbows so you can see his weary, desolate pout—drenched, flushed, and ruined.

“...I tried to,” he mumbles with frustration, “but you wouldn’t let me—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” you cut him off, sharper.

Nevermind the fact that it quite literally is, he deflates even further, shaking his head. Bringing your hands up to cup his face, you tilt your head aside and give him a patronizing smile.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you tell him, low and doting, rubbing a little circle into his cheek with your thumb. “I know you didn’t mean to be bad, did you, honey?”

Another sullen shake.

“Words.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he corrects.

“No, of course you didn’t,” you agree, shaking your head in tandem, smile growing wider. You crane your neck up to smack a kiss on the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth twitches upward, wavering a little, like he isn't sure if he should be smiling with you. “You wanna make it up to me, baby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. You raise your eyebrows, and he remembers himself. “...Yes, please.”

“Okay,” you tell him, and pat the bed beside you. “Lay on your back for me.”

His eyes pop open wide. With as much urgency as his sensitive dick allows, Eddie pulls himself out of you, cursing at the feeling; the way it comes out drenched and creamy, coated with your arousal and his release. As he pops out, a little stream of cum dribbles out with him and you frown at the feeling, reaching between your legs to scoop it back up, push it back where it belongs.

Eddie lays himself beside you as instructed, and you shove two fingers into yourself as a makeshift plug. Once he’s ready, you twist onto your knees and position yourself over his face as quickly as you can, scared of losing any, and the look on his face as he stares up at your pussy almost makes you snort. It’s like he thinks it might save his soul.

You cock your head at him. “You ready to clean up your mess, sweet boy?”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Shit. Born ready.”

One hand resting on his chest to steady yourself, you pull your fingers out, wiping excess semen through your folds as you go. Immediately, a few dribbles of his spend fall out of you and onto his mouth and chin, and the feeling makes his face twitch. You follow soon after, lowering down as Eddie’s mouth drops open to receive you, but rather than sit still to let him do his job, you grind your hips back and forth over his face, dragging your lips from his chin to his nose, further and harder than he really knows what to do with. He lets out a series of surprised little grunts muffled against your skin, staring up at you with big, startled eyes as you drag his face around every which way. You grin down at him wickedly.

Eddie tries his best to keep up, to lap his tongue through your slit and clean you up as requested, but you don’t really want him to clean you up. You want to smear the mess he made all over his pretty face. When he tries to raise his hands to wrap over your thighs, you give one of them a quick smack.

“Hands to yourself,” you tell him. He drops them instantly, and you reward him with a pleased squint. “Good boy, Eddie. Let mommy do the work, alright?”

His moan vibrates against your lips as he struggles to nod against you. Leaning forward, you thread both of your hands into his hair, holding either side of his head to keep him still while you grind yourself against him with abandon; back and forth, side to side, and big, messy circles. You’ve been wet and needy for so long now, it feels amazing to hump your frustration out on his face like this, cursing at the slick drag of it, how gorgeous he looks beneath you; throwing your head back and moaning when your clit throbs with sharp bursts of pleasure. Eddie hums and moans along with you all the while, his eyes going lidded and brows pulling together as he watches you use him. Every clench and flutter of your hole squeezes out more of his spend, sullying him even further.

“Fuck, listen to that,” you moan, a little whiny in appreciation of the wet, gooey sound of each stroke—your pussy sticking to the skin of his face. “You came so much, baby. Filled me up so well.”

Eddie groans even louder, almost ticklish against you. Reeling back to get a better look, you smile down at the sloppy, debauched mess you’ve made of him, his cheeks flushed bright pink underneath it. One of his eyes is closed, protected from a little bit of cum you managed to smear up to his eyelid, and you reach down to wipe it carefully away for him.

“Sorry,” you say with a giggle.

Eddie’s eyes crinkle with a dizzy smile. “S’okay.”

“You look so pretty like this, Eddie,” you sigh, beaming down at him, and his face flushes even darker. “Being so good for me.”

You adjust your position, reaching one hand behind you to steady yourself on his chest again. This time, you stay still as you lower yourself onto his face, and Eddie starts lapping and scrubbing his tongue eagerly through your slit. You sit there for a minute or so, relishing the feeling until your clit pulses with need again, but you aren’t quite ready to let him off the hook yet. Gradually, you drop more and more weight onto him until you’re sure it’s suffocating, and his eyes pop open wide, grunting unintelligibly against your lips while you smirk down at him. He does his best to keep pleasuring you, his tongue plunging inside, curling and pumping as your hole flutters around him. You wait until he starts to squirm and the pink tint of his cheek spreads to the rest of his face before you lift yourself off of him. He immediately sucks in an inhale, panting his breath back to normal, but after a few seconds of recovery, you can see something churning in his eyes.

Before you can comment on it, he sucks in a breath, grabs you tightly by the hips, and forces you back down onto his face. A disbeliefing laugh bursts out of you as his tongue gets back to work, and you close the hand at his scalp into a fist, mean enough to make him grunt.

“What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself?” you scold, not half as annoyed as you intend.

You try to punish the misbehavior by dropping even more weight onto him, grinding rough against his face with no room for air, but you click your tongue as Eddie just groans wantonly at the abuse, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, the image of it so shamelessly depraved that it almost makes you laugh again. The sick little freak is enjoying it. You can’t even try to wipe the smile off your face.

Getting lost in the pleasure, you intentionally suffocate him for a little longer this time, and he stares up at you with lidded eyes all the while, utterly blissed out, occasionally trying to tug you down harder or help guide your hips against him. Eventually, he grunts at you deliberately—probably a warning—and you slow down.

“You think you deserve to breathe?” you joke, nearly breathless yourself.

Eddie hums a yes.

“...I don’t know,” you say. “You’re acting kind of bratty.”

He whines at you; a pleading noise. With a reluctant sigh, you release his hair and lift yourself off of him, and Eddie heaves in a big breath, his head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut as he restores the oxygen to his brain.

“Fuuuck,” he groans once he catches his breath, but it’s hard to tell if it’s out of relief from suffocation or pure enjoyment of his penance.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today,” you lament, shaking your head.

Eddie’s eyes pop back open and he stifles a smile—trying and failing to look innocent.

“You used to be such a good boy,” you go on pointedly. “Now, look at you. Yanking me around, trying to get me pregnant.”

He snickers, only barely holding back a laugh, and you raise your eyebrows at him in extravagant disbelief.

“And you think it’s funny!” you scoff. You drop one hand between your legs, teasing a finger against your clit. “Christ. You’re spoiled rotten. Maybe I should just get myself off.”

His eyes widen a little—he can’t tell if you’re joking. “No, don’t,” he says. “I wanna do it.”

“You do?” you ask. He nods eagerly, eyes flicking between your face and your cunt with rapt attention. “You wanna taste me some more?”

“Yeah. Yes. I do.”

You rub yourself even faster, staring sharply down your nose at him. “Don’t you think you should apologize?”

“M’sorry,” he spits out instantly, distracted.

“Eddie.”

The disappointed tone is more than enough—he almost sputters correcting himself. “I’m sorry, mommy, I won’t be bad anymore.”

You have to bite back a groan. “...Promise?”

“I promise,” he says with his big brown eyes—the sweetest boy in the world, soaking in a faceful of his own cum.

You give him a smile. “That’s better. You wanna feel me squeeze around your tongue, baby?”

He nods like his life depends on it.

“Yeah? You wanna suck on my clit with your pretty pink lips?”

“Fuck—yes, please.”

Smiling even wider, you stop pleasuring yourself and thread your fingers against his scalp again, hovering over his mouth.

“Then be a good boy and suck on it.”

With a feverish groan, he pulls you down by your hips to do just that. He licks and sucks at your clit in a frenzy, flicking in all directions, drawing fanciful shapes, taking it between his plush lips. As long as you’ve waited, teased by your thoughts, his fingers, his cock, and the better part of his pretty, sticky face, it doesn’t take much before your tired thighs are trembling.

“Yes, fuck,” you gasp. “Just like that, baby.”

Canting forward, you plant your hand on the wall to steady yourself, trying as much as can be expected in your current state to be mindful of his Slayer tapestry. Eddie’s tongue starts painting a quick, repetitive pattern over your clit that pleasantly muddles your brain for maybe half a minute before you recognize it as something he’s done before.

“...Quit spelling your name,” you scold weakly through a laugh, wiggling your hips in complaint. Eddie clutches you tighter and hums in defiance, and you scoff at him. “What, you think it’s yours?”

He only doubles down on his signature, big brown eyes boring darkly into yours as he slowly nods his head. There’s that damn confidence again. It probably affects you more than it should—it plummets between your legs and makes your pussy clench hard enough that a needy whine gets caught in your throat. Eddie’s eyes crinkle delightedly, and you swear, you can feel him chuckle.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine. You’re so damn close, it’s driving you crazy, but what he’s doing just isn’t quite enough to get you there. “...I told you suck on it, so suck on it.”

Eddie hums indecisively, clearly amused by your mounting desperation, and you wonder, much to your horror and pride, if your pitiless ways are starting to rub off of him. Maybe this is his payback for orchestrating his bad behavior earlier.

“You promised, you fucking brat,” you groan, ruined by a smile in your voice, grinding your hips down again in frustration. “Eddie, I swear to God, if you don’t—”

Just short of earning any genuine wrath, Eddie wraps his lips tight around your clit and sucks on it like an overly frozen milkshake. You cut yourself off to cry out at the feeling, collapsing forward as far as his grip will let you, your forehead resting on your arm pressed against the wall.

“Oh, good fucking boy,” you almost whimper, gasping as he sucks even harder, gliding his tongue over the pulsing little bud. “Shit, Eddie, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. A few more seconds of that and it hits you so hard you can’t tell which way is up. A guttural moan punches out of you, pitching up into a choked squeal as your orgasm overcomes you, trembling and twitching on his tongue. Eddie keeps it up diligently all throughout, prolonging your pleasure with such relentless suction that it nearly crosses over into pain.

Once your tense body loosens up, he continues lapping his tongue between your legs, taking the opportunity to actually clean you up and keep teasing your clit as it throbs in the aftermath. You let yourself stay like that, enjoying the residual pleasure until you catch your breath.

“Jesus fuck, you’re getting good at that,” you sigh, flopping weakly onto your back beside him. Your thighs feel like jelly and your knees are kinda sore.

“I did good?”

You snap your head towards him with a fake glare. Unlike a couple minutes ago, he looks completely and utterly angelic, smiling at you with his sticky face and raging dimples.

“Yes, you did good, you lying little punk.”

He giggles at your annoyance. “I’m sorry,” he insists. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re gonna be sorry,” you threaten, knowing full well that your soft spot for him has grown more than big enough to excuse some playful disobedience.

Eddie starts to sit up then, but you pull yourself up along with him just to plant one hand on his chest and shove him back down. It makes his dick—once again hard as a rock—bounce around a little comically.

“No way,” you tell him. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“You’re not?”

“We’re never done until that thing gets sick of me,” you say, gesturing flippantly towards his erection, and Eddie scoffs. You swing yourself around to plant your feet on the carpet, standing up on wobbly legs. “Stay there.”

“Where are you going?”

“Getting a towel for your face,” you say, flashing him a grin. “You’re fucking filthy.”

“And whose fault is that?” he pretends to grumble as you leave the room.

“You’re really pushing your goddamn luck today, Munson.”

As familiar as you are with the layout and as assured as you feel that Eddie’s uncle won’t be making any sudden, unscheduled returns, you have no qualms about traversing the trailer in your birthday suit, fishing out a wash cloth and wetting it before returning to the bedroom.

Closing the door behind you, you find Eddie waiting obediently where you left him, his hands threaded together over his tummy. He watches you climb back onto the bed and curl over him with a smile that only grows wider as you take your time to wipe his face clean, his ginormous brown eyes sparkling at you all the while. When you’re done, you toss the wet rag carelessly onto his bedside table and then plant two fists on your hips, appraising him.

“...Come here,” you instruct, scooting backwards and patting the mattress in front of you.

Eddie does as instructed, shifting himself to the center of the bed.

“Scoot up a bit,” you say next, and he does that too, his head resting on one of his malformed pillows.

Satisfied, you make your way further down the bed, manually shove his legs apart, and then squeeze your way onto your stomach between them. Eddie props himself up on his elbows and watches you settle in place with a furrowed brow and a puzzled smile.

“...What are you doing down there?” he asks.

Surely, he assumed that you planned to suck him off like you implied earlier, but the position you're in doesn't seem especially convenient if the intention is to stuff his cock down your throat. Very pleased to be asked, you give him a ravenous smile, resting your chin on one of his thighs.

“Eating you out,” you explain simply.

His face twists in uncertainty. “Uh…”

“Don't worry, you'll love it,” you insist, then tilt your head aside. “...But if you don't, just tell me, and I'll suck you off like usual, alright?”

The confusion on his face settles and he breathes a laugh through his nose. “Sure.”

You've pretty much never done anything he hasn't loved (or at least that he's explicitly disliked) so far, so you figure you've earned enough trust to get away with some experimentation, even if he clearly can't wrap his head around what you're even doing.

You start very slowly, pushing his thighs a little wider apart and peppering their insides with sweet kisses and teasing bites. The closer you draw to his center, the harsher you get, sucking fierce bruises into his skin while he sighs and hums above you, and when you finally put your mouth on him, licking firmly at his ballsack, you pull a gasp out of him, his hard cock twitching in interest.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes as you suck as much as you can fit into your mouth, massaging with your tongue, bobbing your head to tug on them a little. You feel them tug right back as they try to clench up at the stimulation, and when you hum around him, Eddie moans out, his hips twitching like he’s trying to push even more between your lips. “...Fuck, that feels good.”

Letting his spit-soaked balls fall out of your mouth, you push yourself a little higher to give his dick some attention. It’s still milky, slick with cum and arousal, a creamy ring around his base from fucking you, and the thick hair around it is a beautiful, sticky mess. With sweet little kitten licks, you do your best to clean him up, climbing up his shaft while he twitches and pulses under your tongue, adorable little moans and whines spilling out between his lips. When you get to the top, you find a little puddle of precum on his tummy and smile.

Holding his hips still by force, you wrap your lips around his tip and slowly take him in, easing yourself down until your nose is stuffed in his messy bush, and Eddie groans out like he can barely take it, looking down at you with heavy eyes and a furrowed brow. Lips wrapped tight around his cock, you meet his stare as innocently as you can while you retreat from him even slower, vacuuming your cheeks around him, dragging his foreskin with you.

“Shit—please, fuck!” he cries out, and you can feel him fighting against you, trying to fuck your mouth, but you don’t let him.

He whines at you until he finally leaves your lips with a snug pop, falling back to rest on his tummy—jumping once in protest of the loss.

“All clean,” you announce proudly.

Eddie just whines again, squirming in need. “I wanna cum.”

Pleased as you are to hear him ask, you scoff at the request. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He blinks at you, pouting cluelessly. You roll your eyes.

“What do you say when mommy cleans your pretty cock for you?” you prompt deliberately.

His face falls mildly annoyed—trying to counteract his blush, probably—but you’ll let it slide. “...Thank you, mommy,” he mumbles.

“Aww,” you croon, scrunching your face at him, and Eddie flushes even darker. “What a sweetie pie. You’re welcome, baby.”

Diving back in, you go back to sucking at his balls for a minute or so to placate him before dropping even lower. Spreading his thighs even wider, you lick a firm, deliberate line along his perineum. Eddie jerks at the feeling, a confused little chirp slipping out of him, and you raise your head again to look at him. His eyes are a bit wide.

“How was that?” you ask, a little burst of nerves tickling your stomach.

“Uh…” Eddie blinks a few times, processing. “...Okay?”

“Was it good?”

He looks like he forgot already. “...I dunno.”

“Want me to do it again?” you ask. “So you can see?”

He gives you a cute little nod. You gather a little extra spit on your tongue and crane your neck down to repeat the action, this time scrubbing your tongue up and down continuously, letting him focus on the feeling. Eddie makes another odd noise in surprise but doesn’t seem averse to it. Giving him a little more might sell him on it—you reach one hand up to pump his cock as you work, and he puffs out a shaky exhale.

“Shit,” he says, his chest rising and falling with another breath. “...I like it.”

Smiling wide, you hum delightedly into his skin and double down on it—faster, harder, wiggling side to side with each drag, and you play with his cock almost idly; light, slow stroking, rubbing your thumb over his slit. Eddie really likes it, his panting filling the room as he gets worked up, strewn with gentle moans and gasps. He lets out a groan when you start alternating, dragging your mouth up to suck on his testicles again, then kissing your way back down to his taint, and it's going so damn well, you decide to take the plunge.

Letting go of his cock, you move your hand between his thighs, pick up some of the spit you've left behind on his perineum, and inch carefully down to press a gentle circle around his hole, thinking you might be able to sneak it in under his radar. It doesn’t work. His whole body jerks instantly, and his thighs twitch closed on instinct, nearly knocking you on either side of the head.

“Whuh— What are you doing?” he asks, lightly strained, rising to his elbows and staring down his body at you warily.

A little shard of ice freezes your stomach. “...Sorry,” you peep, unusually nervy. “I was just rubbing, not, um—going in. Thought you might like it.”

He blinks down at you a few times and seems to relax. “...Does it, uh…feel good?”

You have to take a second to make sure no abject desperation bleeds into your response. “...Maybe, maybe not,” you say with a swallow. “It’s…different for everyone.”

His eyes flit over your face. It’s hard not to feel a little transparent.

“...I like it,” you throw in. “...It's okay if you don't.”

Eddie lowers himself back down, staring up at the ceiling. “Um…. You can do it again.”

You try to bite your smile down, keep it normal-sized. “Okay. Cool.”

This time, you warm him up again with your mouth, waiting until you can hear his breathing pick up before adding anything else. Then, slowly, you start to circle him again, pressing just a little bit harder.

“...Feels weird,” he mutters, sort of stilted.

You have to spit his balls out to respond. “...Yeah? Good or bad?”

He exhales a little laugh. “I don't know.”

Watching his face, you stop circling his hole and press down against it instead—not enough to breach, just letting him feel the pressure. His abdomen clenches; thighs tensing up, eyes popping wide.

“Is that okay?” you check.

“Um—” He cuts himself off with another breathy laugh, still staring at the ceiling. “I think so. Really fuckin’ weird, though.”

Processing that, you decide to push your luck—pressing down even harder, splitting him open the tiniest bit, and Eddie fucking whimpers.

Jesus Christ. You can't help yourself.

“Eddie, can I—” You cut yourself off, swallow down some nerves. He finally drops his gaze back to you, and the sight of those big brown eyes sort of drives you crazy. “Is it okay if I just— Can we do, like, one finger?”

His eyebrows pop up, and your stomach tightens.

“I mean, we don't— It doesn't even have to be the whole one, y'know, like, it can just be the tip. I'll use the lube, obviously, and if it hurts, or you just don't like it, I'll stop, okay? And we don't have to try it again. I know it's weird.”

Eddie looks bewildered, but whether it's due to your request or the unusually skittish way you presented it, you aren't sure. Both would probably be a fair guess. He takes a moment to think about it, breathing deep, running his tongue over his teeth.

“...Okay,” he decides.

For a couple seconds, you’re convinced you heard him wrong. “I… Really?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles with a nod, a little red in the face. “We can try it.”

You blink at him owlishly for a few seconds, processing, feeling the disbelief inside you give way to pure fucking glee, and then you smile so hard it hurts. Overwhelmed with it, you turn your head to bite ecstatically into the meat of his thigh.

“Ow,” he complains, then jerks again when you bite down even harder. “Ow!”

“Thank you,” you say, whipping back up to fucking beam at him, utterly adoring. “Oh my God, Eddie, you’re a dream. I can’t believe it. I won the fucking lottery.”

His face twists up, severely baffled but similarly endeared. “...Why are you this excited to stick your finger in my butt?”

“Because I’m a huge fuckin’ pervert, alright?” you try to groan, far too giddy for it to actually come off that way. “...And every other guy I’ve tried to ask about it threw a fucking hissy fit at the mere suggestion. So, yeah, I’m a little excited. Hand me a pillow.”

He frowns, but does as you ask. You fold it in half and then pat him on the hip.

“Lift,” you instruct.

He does. You jab the pillow beneath him, angling his hips, giving yourself better access. Then you pat around on the rumpled bed until you locate the bottle of lube and flip the top open with a vengeance.

“...Do you still see them?”

You flick your eyes up and find Eddie staring at the ceiling again. Embarrassed to ask, but needing to find out. When you don’t respond, he adds on: “...Other guys.”

“...Nope,” you say, trying not to embarrass him further by smiling too hard. “I’m all yours, Eds.”

He nods in acknowledgment, but very obviously sucks his lips between his teeth to force down a smile of his own.

You bully his legs open wider again—his face going dark from the blatant exposure of it, no doubt—and then squirt a generous dollop of lube onto your fingers and start spreading it around his hole. Eddie hisses at the temperature, hips squirming in discomfort. You take your time massaging him, mouthing at his sack while you do your best to relax the tight ring of muscle, and Eddie himself relaxes as it goes on as well.

“Are you ready?” you ask when he seems pliant enough.

“Yeah,” he peeps. “Go ahead.”

You squeeze out a little more lube just to be safe, making sure that your finger is well covered. “Tell me if it hurts, alright?”

He hums a quiet yes.

“Can you say it?”

“I will,” he mutters, swallowing again. “...I’ll tell you.”

You can feel your heart picking up, a sweat breaking out in excitement as you oh-so-carefully press your finger into his puckered hole, watching his face as it parts to let you in. Eddie’s mouth opens, his eyebrows twitching together, and as the first knuckle pops through, practically sucked inside, an unsteady, smothered little moan squeezes out of his throat.

“Is that alright, Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “...Fuck.”

For a while, you just let him get used to that much, pulling out until you’ve left him entirely and then pushing back in. Eventually, he starts to get squirmy again.

“...You can do more,” he mumbles, red-faced, and you smile ear to ear.

“Okay.” As much as you’d like to tease him for wanting more, you figure it’s enough of a miracle that he’s letting you do this in the first place. No sense in pushing your luck any further.

Gradually, you push each thrust a little further, savoring every little noise he makes until he’s taken you all the way to the base.

“...That’s it,” you tell him with pride. “One whole finger. You did it, Eds.”

He takes in a deep breath and pushes out an airy laugh. “Shit.”

“Do you like it?”

“Still feels weird,” he says, “but, uh… It’s not bad.”

“Alright. I’m gonna keep going, then.”

The anticipation has you pretty close to vibrating. You drag your finger most of the way out—appreciating the way he clings to you, reluctant to let you leave—and when you push back in, you angle it upward, digging into his upper wall at a steady pace until Eddie jolts beneath you. A shiver of satisfaction travels up your spine.

“Shit—what was that?” he gasps.

You draw back and do it again, this time trying to hit the right spot more directly, and when you do, Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth, his neglected cock jumping in need. Residual worry melting away, your grin stretches wide and sharp; irrepressible, cannibal desire rising to the surface.

“I think I found your G-spot, baby.”

Eddie looks like you’ve dropped him on a completely different planet. “What the fuck?”

“Stroke yourself,” you tell him, shifting to a more natural angle. You wrap your free arm around his thigh and dig your nails in eagerly.

Obedient as usual, he wraps his fist around himself and starts pumping, stifling a whine in his throat. As soon as he does, you fall into rhythm, thrusting steadily in and out, aiming for the right spot each time; alternating your gaze between the way your finger sinks into him and the look it puts on his face as it does.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. Then pitching higher, strained: “Oh—fuck.”

“That’s it,” you encourage sweetly. “Feel good, Eddie?”

He nods excessively, biting down on his puffy lip. Adorable little whines and whimpers ring out as you keep it up, his free hand balling up in his bedsheets, and soon enough, he gets needy. His fist slides faster over his dick, his hips start to buck in frustration, and he calls out your name.

You leave most of your smugness out of your voice. “Yes?”

“Can you—fuck.” He sucks in another breath. “Can you do it faster?”

Your eyes crinkle with fondness. “Good boy, asking so nicely.”

He moans at your praise, and then moans louder as you speed up for him. “Oh, shit!”

“S’that good?”

“Yes, shit, s’good,” he whines, his thighs starting to twitch on either side of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop, baby, don’t worry.”

He clearly isn’t gonna last much longer, and he’s done so well for you so far. Maybe you can push him a bit further.

“...You think you can take a little more, Eddie?” you ask.

He starts nodding and forgets to stop, but that isn’t quite enough for you.

“Say it, honey.”

“I can take it,” he whines. “Please, I wanna cum.”

“Okay. Tell me if it’s too much for you.”

You pull your finger out, wipe your middle finger through some of the excess lube around his hole, and then very gently push both of them inside. Eddie moans at the stretch, loud enough that it makes your heart skip a beat, thinking he might be in pain, but you realize pretty quickly by the way his hips squirm—trying to push you in deeper—that he's enjoying it. Obliging him, you sink your fingers to the hilt with more confidence, and his head arches back into his pillow at the feeling, beating his swollen cock even faster.

“Jesus Christ,” he whimpers as you start pumping, his voice cracking sharply. Assured that he can handle it, you finger him as fast as you can manage while still aiming for his prostate, the squelch of it obscenely loud. “Shit, shit, I think m’gonna cum!”

“Ask for it,” you warn.

“No, fuck!” he groans in frustration. “Please, please, shit, I wanna cum!”

You shake your head. “Not good enough, Eddie.”

He cries out—frantic and anguished. “Fuck… Please, mommy, please let me cum, I can't— I can't take it, I— Shit—!”

“Go ahead, baby.”

“Oh, fuck—mommy!”

Eddie's back arches off the bed, his fist moving like a blur over his length as he makes a mess of himself, shooting long, pearly strings all over his chest and tummy, whining pitifully until he's spent. You keep jabbing into him all throughout, slower as his hole clenches even tighter around you, trying to milk him for all he's worth.

Even when his body goes limp and his hand falls away from his twitching cock, you keep it up, caught between your insatiable greed and your reluctance to overwhelm him. Cute little whines and peeps slip out of him as you keep abusing his sensitive spot, making him jerk and twitch all over. His big, watery brown eyes hit you with a heart-rending look.

“S'too much,” he mumbles breathlessly, the slightest shake to his voice.

“You want me to stop?” you ask, slowing down a little more but loathe to stop completely. “...I think I can get one more out of you, but we can stop here if you want to, baby.”

His gaze shifts around as he thinks about it, each breath coming out a little faster as your efforts start to work him up again. It doesn't take him long to decide—your sweet boy is pretty damn greedy, himself.

“...Don’t stop,” he says.

You grin at him wolfishly. “Such a good boy.”

As you pick up the pace again, Eddie whimpering at the overstimulation, you dip your head back down to lick and tug at his balls. His dick twitches and pulses in front of your face as you keep it up—he never even had time to go soft.

“...Mommy,” he says eventually. His voice almost sounds miserable.

“Yeah?” You lift your head to look at him instantly, thinking he needs something or maybe wants you to stop, but he doesn't say anything else. Just stares at you with big, aching eyes. “...I'm right here, Eddie."

“Mommy,” he whines again, helpless.

“I know, baby, I know.”

One of his hands pats around, reaches out, searching. You use your free one to capture it, and Eddie laces his fingers with yours and squeezes. Your fucking heart could give out.

“You’re so fucking good for me, Eddie, I can’t believe it,” you tell him softly. “...Letting mommy play with your cute little hole, make you feel so good.”

He mewls at the praise. Your eyes dance all over him—flushed and sweaty, ruined, shivering. Willingly fragile, wholly trusting. More than you ever could've hoped for.

“...You take it so well, baby, and you look so pretty. My pretty boy.”

The little noises he lets escape are continuous now—he couldn't hold them back if he tried. His twitching becomes trembling, his hand grasping yours almost painfully, and you can see his wet eyes starting to unfocus, the pleasure close to overwhelming him.

“Fuck, mommy!” he cries.

“I have you, Eddie, it's okay,” you murmur. “Don't fight it, honey, just let yourself feel good.”

Your gentle permission sends him over the edge. A pitiful sob rips out of him as he cums a second time, his sweet face contorting as a tear or two squeezes out of his watery eyes, his limbs quaking irrepressibly. His tight hole chokes your fingers, and, scared of hurting him, you stop thrusting, instead doing your best to grind your fingertips back and forth over his prostate, desperate for every drop he can give. His cock pulses but his spend comes out much weaker than the first time, little ropes only shooting a few inches and dribbling out in an adorable puddle beneath his tip. As the brunt of it passes, his eyes fall closed, taking long, quivering breaths as he tries to calm down.

“Good boy, Eddie. Let it all out.”

You slip your fingers out of him, watching with satisfaction as his gaping hole pinches and flutters, missing you already. You're so outrageously fucking wet that you can feel it smeared between your thighs, your clit throbbing like it's trying to collect on a debt it's owed, but it takes no effort to ignore it when Eddie's just let you take him to a place like this.

You rub soothingly at his thigh as his breathing slows down, but even when it does, it still shudders. When his eyes open, he tugs at your hand, and you let him guide you up between his legs to come closer. His face contorts a little bit as you lean down to kiss him, and he kisses back like it's the last he'll ever get, but he can't keep it up for very long. His arms wrap around you so tight it almost hurts—the cooling spend on his front squished between you, sticking your skin together—and only then do you feel it for yourself. All of him, every inch of him is trembling.

Your heart picks up, worried you've pushed him too far. “Are you okay, honey? Was it too much?”

“...M'okay,” he insists, a teary mumble. “It's just…” He can't find the words.

“It was a lot, huh?” you finish for him quietly. He nods, nuzzling into you, and the feeling of it makes your chest ache. “But you did so well, Eddie. I'm so proud of you. So proud of you, baby.”

He holds you even tighter and you do your best to hold him back, to rub soothing hands over his tacky skin. You might stay that way for five minutes or for a full hour. Time never seems to work right when you're with Eddie—right now, it could've stopped entirely to let this moment linger, and you'd be wholly clueless and infinitely grateful. When he finally speaks, he sounds smaller than you've ever heard him, like he’s terrified of breaking the spell.

“I really like you,” he admits.

You can feel your ribcage splitting open—yawning impossibly wide and wrapping around the both of you. “Fuck. I really like you too, Eddie.”

He breaks your heart almost every time you see him, and you hope he never stops. You press firm kisses everywhere you can reach. His neck and jaw and temple, the scalp behind his ear. He lets out a stuttering breath, and it reminds you so much of a sob that it makes you tear up a little.

“...I really like you,” he repeats.

Eventually, Eddie calms down. His limbs fall still, his breathing and his affection now more sleepy than overstrung.

“You wanna take a shower?” you whisper, lips ghosting over his jaw.

“Not yet, please,” he says. “...Jus’ wanna hold you.”

Your impulse is to tell him that playtime is over and he doesn’t need to ask your permission anymore, but you figure he isn’t fully out of it yet. If he needs you to keep looking after him a little longer, to let him bask in that relief until he’s ready to hold himself up on his own again, then you’ll gladly stretch the moment out to its limits, let it run slow and thick like honey down your spine. You’d carry him all night if he asked you to.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur into his throat. “...As long as you want me.”

-

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