this list will be updated when i post new work or fill a request!
currently writing for: eddie munson
Don’t You Forget About Me
after a fight erupted in your family home, you go to the one safe place you have in town. (best friends to lovers + smut)
I’m In Love With You, Rockstar
you met eddie when you moved to the small town of hawkins in 1977. you didn’t realize it at the time, but you knew you were going to have him around for a long time. (slowburn best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, and love confessions)
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”
In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.
Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it.
“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”
Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed.
“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”
“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.
“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”
“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”
His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”
“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.
“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today.
He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”
Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.
But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!
But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross.
“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.
“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation.
“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out.
Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”
“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”
“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”
Gareth grimaced.
Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.
-
The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.
Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock.
Oh, fuck, he’s hard already.
But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-
“Hello?” Oh, shit.
“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!
“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?
He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?”
“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work.
“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line.
“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”
Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”
“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”
“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”
“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.”
“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.
“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?
“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.
“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.
“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.
“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.
“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”
“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”
Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked-
Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?
-
Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers.
But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.
Long gone were the risks of parental interference.
Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight.
Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.
The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far.
But that was all too easy.
And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves.
“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.
You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.
“Huh…?”
“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”
Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.
What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night.
If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.
A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”
Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”
“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!
Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).
In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it.
Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.
A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity.
“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”
“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes.
“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!
Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.
“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body.
A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.
“It’s okay, baby-”
“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”
There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”
The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.
“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.
And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.
“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished.
You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”
“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you?
“American- yeah, yeah, American History.”
“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”
“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches.
“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”
Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”
A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.
And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.
“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.
“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”
“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?”
“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers.
You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot.
“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”
Shit. “Uh…”
“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”
Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”
“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”
Fuck me.
-
Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.
“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”
“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.
“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”
“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”
“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”
Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”
You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.”
“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”
You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”
“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”
Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”
“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”
You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”
His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.”
“Uh…”
“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.”
“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes.
“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle.
“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence.
Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered.
“Just relaxing? A small break?”
“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised.
Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?
“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.
The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.
And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything.
Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times.
He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked.
“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed.
“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger.
Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal.
But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”
“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.
“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.
He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”
“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.
“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”
“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”
“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”
“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged.
Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”
“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”
“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain.
“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”
“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”
You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”
Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.
Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability.
Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”
“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.”
“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”
“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face.
“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring.
“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached.
“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear.
He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”
“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”
“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”
Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible.
You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”
An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”
You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored.
“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion.
“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself?
“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.
“What do you do then, baby?”
Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words.
But you had never acted on impulsion.
And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question.
Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.
“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”
“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”
“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression.
“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did.
“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out.
“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.
Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”
“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”
“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”
A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off.
“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead.
“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”
Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined.
Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke.
“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”
“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”
“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”
You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”
“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”
“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal.
“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists.
A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”
“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”
Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum.
But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously.
And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command.
“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.
Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”
“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.”
Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body.
“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.
“I-I’m sorry-”
“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly. “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”
That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”
And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it.
“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”
There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.
His dream girl.
“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh.
A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”
“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months.
“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face.
“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness.
“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.
“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples.
“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”
“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously.
“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”
Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”
“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.”
Eddie Munson was a little weird.
But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel.
“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”
Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight.
“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.
“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand.
“Ow, Eddie!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you.
“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum.
“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”
You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine.
Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.
“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose.
Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need.
“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”
“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”
“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”
“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him.
“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit.
“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency.
The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!”
Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.
“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion.
You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”
“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”
Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded.
His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”
The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny.
Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick.
His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.
“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting.
His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.”
“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”
Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.
Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”
His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”
While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”
He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years.
“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”
You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”
“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”
With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny.
His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.
The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs.
Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans.
“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you.
“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”
Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy.
“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”
“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart.
“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.
Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”
“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.
“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-
“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled.
Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!
You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.
“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.
Eddie's Notes (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)
summary: Eddie's a friend you trust... you trust him enough to have your first time with him... and your second.
tropes: virgin!eddie, virgin!reader, friends to lovers, bad at sex eddie but eager to learn (eventually)
warnings: 18+! mature language, pet names (baby, pretty/sweet girl), smut, p in v sex, mentions of reader's period, oral (f receiving), virginity loss
a/n: a lot of people write eddie as being good in bed (myself included) but I thought it'd be fun to dive into a realm of him being not good (but he is a cutey little dedicated sweetheart once he gets his act together). reblogs and comments are appreciated profusely <3
wc: 10.4k+
“Do you want to do something else?” You ask over the top of Eddie's copy of The Hobbit.
“Not really anything else to do.” Eddie replies, from the other end of his bed, only sparing you a short glance before going back to his guitar.
You’ve been thinking about it for a while and you trust Eddie, you really do.
Saving yourself for marriage is not in the question. Saving yourself for the love of your life doesn’t seem probable. So someone you trust is the best case scenario. And you really trust Eddie.
The best part is you’re pretty sure it’ll be an even playing field with Eddie. In his crude nature, with sex jokes and innuendos, it was hard to decide whether or not he has but you’re almost certain he hasn’t.
Almost certain.
“Are you a virgin?” You ask, words spilling from your lips before you can stop them.
“What?” He laughs. You shrug before realizing that maybe that question is outside of your realm of friendship. Maybe what you actually want to ask him is eons outside of your friendship.
Sure, you’ve been friends with him for a few years now but you’re not the best of friends. Good enough friends to hang out a couple times a month doing nothing beyond enjoying each other's company, but it’s not like you’re best best friends.
“If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine. I guess that was super weird for me to ask, sorry.” You say, going back to hiding your face in his book.
“No— no, not weird at all.” He says with a nervous chuckle.
You give him a moment to answer the question but he doesn’t. When you peek out from behind the book again, his gaze is fixed forward, stuck in a trance of thought.
“Sorry.” You say again.
“No— don’t be.” He shakes his head, blinking away whatever he was thinking. “I’m um, uh— not really?” He says, adding an inflection to his statement like he’s asking you.
“Not really?” You ask, looking for clarification but he just shrugs. You assume the conversation is done but as soon as you go back to the book, he speaks again.
“I… have done stuff. You know, a little rub and tug from the hideout’s finest,” He says, making a crude pumping motion with his fist over his guitar covered crotch. “but… to elaborate, uh— no actual penetration, I guess.”
“Penetration?” You say, laughing softly at his choice of words.
“Yeah… never put it in?” He says again like he’s asking you if it’s an okay answer.
“Fair enough.” You smile, nodding your head.
The both of you sit in silence, Eddie shifting uncomfortably in his spot. You expected him to counter ask your question, but he just sits there, fingers drumming on the body of his guitar.
“Why did you ask me that?” He asks with a genuine curiosity, finally breaking the silence.
“You don’t want to know if I’m a virgin?” You ask, purposefully ignoring his question.
“Are you?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie’s eyebrows rise, hiding beneath his bangs before he comically relaxes himself, putting on an image of indifference. “Oh… me too.” He says coolly.
“So I’ve heard.” You reply, rolling your lips inwards to try and hold back your laugh. You twist in the bed, putting the book down on the floor.
“Why are we talking about this?” He asks quietly, following your lead and setting his guitar down on the bed beside him.
“Do you… want to…” You ask, trailing off, shrugging your shoulders.
“Want to…?” He asks, sitting up straighter.
“You know?” You say, raising your eyebrows hoping he says it so you don’t have to. Faux indifference thrown to the wind, his own eyebrows rise once again, eyes going wide in disbelief.
The silence goes unperturbed until his mouth pulls into a flatline before dropping agape, his eyes narrowing in on you.
“I think you’re gonna have to spell this one out for me, cause I think I know what you mean, but I am not gonna look like an idiot if I’m thinking something entirely different than what you’re thinking.” He rambles, hands working overtime twisting his rings mindlessly.
“Do you not want to?” You ask, your eyes flitting to his nervous habits on full display.
“No I do!” He says a little too loudly, cheeks going red in embarrassment. “But… clarify please cause I really don’t want to be reading this wrong.” He says, flattening his palms on his legs, as he clocks that you’ve noticed his fidgeting.
“Do you want to have sex with me?” You ask as plain as can be. All of Eddie's fidgeting stops immediately. He freezes, his eyes going wide, and you feel your own nerves pick up.
It takes a moment but when he comes back alive, his eyes finding yours. “You’re not joking right?” He asks, his gaze penetrating so deeply it almost becomes too much.
“I’m not joking.”
“Uh— then… yes.” He says calmly.
“Try not to sound so enthusiastic.” You laugh nervously, feeling uncomfortable in the thick tension of the room.
“Shit— I’m sorry. I’m just— it took me by surprise. But I do! Really do, seriously!”
“Okay then.” You smile, feeling your nerves relax. “Do you want to… now?”
He nods his head vigorously before pausing with a look of defeat. “Shit, yeah I do but Wayne was supposed to be helping a friend fix up their car. He might be home in a few hours.”
“A few hours? Is it… is it gonna take that long?” You laugh.
“Probably not.” He says, cheeks flushing dark red. He starts wringing his hands again, his nervous habits becoming more and more prominent by the second.
“Eddie, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you can tell me if you don’t want to. I won’t be upset, I swear.” You say, sitting up straighter to look at him.
“No— no god no. I mean yes— I do. I want to. I just— fuck, I didn’t think we’d be doing this today.” He says, eyes flickering over the room before meeting you with a sheepish smile.
“Should I take my clothes off?” You ask, toying at the hem of your shirt.
“Oh shit— yeah. Yeah, and I’ll take mine off?” He asks, grabbing at the hem of his own shirt.
“Yeah. I think so.” You smile, pulling your shirt off.
“I’m just gonna— yeah, just gonna move this first.” He says, picking up his guitar and pushing himself up off the bed. When he turns from hanging it up, he stops, eyes flickering over your shirtless body. Trying not to lose your nerve, you quickly unclasp your bra, pulling it down your arms, and dropping it off the side of the bed. Eddie’s unwavering eye contact with your chest makes your skin heat, playing on your nerves, especially since he's stood in the middle of his room not saying anything.
“Eddie.” You say, folding your arms over your chest.
“Right.” He mumbles, jumping into action, pulling his own shirt over his head. He moves quickly to unbutton and unzip his pants and with a deep breath, you shimmy out of your own, pushing them off the edge of the bed.
“Underwear too?” He asks, still standing in the middle of his room.
“I guess.” You laugh.
“Right. Stupid question.” He says, shaking his head. You watch as his hands go to his boxers and within a blink he’s pushing them down until they pool around his feet, his hard length becoming your main focus as it bobs against his lower belly. You take in the sight of him, still standing in the middle of his room, naked. Your eyes linger on his erection until his hands cover it.
“Sorry.” You mumble shyly, shifting on the bed to tug down your own underwear.
“Don’t be sorry.” He says, clearing his throat.
“Are you going to come over here or…” You ask, dropping your underwear to land in the pile of your other discarded clothes.
“Yeah.” He says, swallowing harshly. He steps to the edge of the bed, about to climb on until he stops. “Condom, uh— gimme a minute.” He says, eyes darting around the room. “I have one somewhere, just…” He mumbles as he bounds for his desk.
With his back turned, you let your eyes rake over him. He’s cute, very cute. His nerves are endearing; however, Eddie’s always been brash, you didn’t expect him to be so jittery. In a weird way, you like it, because it’s distracting you from a lot of your own nerves. You trust him, entirely. You’ve never not trusted him.
He opens drawer after drawer scrambling through his belongings until proudly holding up the little silver square.
“Right, good.” You say, trying to sound casual.
“Are you okay, like, do you need anything?” He asks, stumbling his way back to the bed over his messy floor.
“No, I’m good. Just need you, I guess.” You say, motioning down to his crotch, cringing at yourself for saying it like that.
“Right. I’ll… put this on then.” He replies. He settles on the bed beside you, pausing before tearing open the condom package. He pauses again.
“Do you need me to… help?” You offer, hoping you don’t sound as dumb as you think you do.
“Uh, I’m good. I think, just— slide it on there.” Eddie says, rambling as he fumbles with the condom. “Just like… that. There. Okay.” He coaches himself, turning his upper body towards you when it’s finally on.
“Do you wanna…?” You ask, motioning for him to get on top of you.
“Yeah, sure, yeah.” He rambles, pushing himself up. You spread your thighs for him, his hips fitting between your bent knees. His movements are awkward, which you also didn’t expect from Eddie. Normally, he’s clumsy but he’s very forthcoming, very sure of himself. You're used to the way he thrashes through life, kind of like a bull in a china shop, but right now he’s tiptoeing, treading very lightly.
“Should I put my arms here?” He asks leaning forward so a hand rests on the bed next to your head.
“However you’re comfortable.” You say softly, trying to coax some of his nervousness away.
“Let me… just… figure this out.” He rambles again, adjusting his body first with both hands caging you in, then switching back to just one, before leaning back and resting on his knees.
It takes you a minute, but you clue in that every adjustment is centered around the least physical contact between the two of you. “You can touch me, Eddie.” You say, hoping he’ll ease into the moment.
“Right. Yeah of course.” He says, shaking his head. He tentatively lets his hands find your bent knees. His touch is feather light, obviously unsure.
“Should I just…” He asks, looking down between where your bodies almost meet. His eyes linger between your thighs, hands gripping harder on your knees, and it makes your belly flip. A good flip, more like a flutter. You like how his eyes become darker, and his mouth slightly drops. It’s cute. He’s cute.
“I’m ready when you are.” You exhale, trying not to laugh as his eyes glaze over in a dazed look, still focused between your legs.
“I’m ready, so if you’re ready.” He replies mindlessly, still not looking up.
“Eddie, you can put it in.” You laugh softly. His eyes finally flicker to you, catching your smile, and he mirrors it as best as he can, albeit with a blush of pink across his cheeks for being caught staring so long.
“Right… I’ll do that.” He replies. He takes his length in his hand, running his fist up and down once. It’s a casual action, practiced, and you get a glimpse of what Eddie’s really like without the jumbled nerves.
He leans in the slightest bit and you feel the tip of his head prod at your slit, sliding down slowly. He works himself down, parting your slit until he’s resting just at your opening. You think he might start pushing in, but he pauses, keeping himself entirely still.
“Uh— sorry but, this is the hole right?” He asks, cheeks flaring red.
You don’t blame him, there is a lot going on down there and you know he just wants to be sure. He's being careful, asking questions when he’s unsure, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but it still makes your face turn the tiniest bit hotter because of the intimacy you’re not used to.
“That’s the one.” You say awkwardly, moving your own hand down to your center to help guide him.
Before you can even wrap your hand around him, he interrupts you, making you draw your hand back.
“Wait do we— I don’t have lube or anything.” He says, eyes flitting to yours.
“Maybe… spit? That’s what other people use, right?” You offer with a shrug.
“Yeah… I’ll just…” He says before dribbling over you. Missing completely, his glob of spit lands on your lower stomach making you laugh. He looks embarrassed at first, but as he watches you laugh, his lips slowly break into a smile before he eases into his own laughter.
“Why are we being so awkward? We’re friends, this is fine, right?” You say, exhaling, trying to compose yourself from your laughter.
“Yeah, we’re friends… having sex.” He says with a heavy exhale.
“I’m still me and you’re still you, we don’t need to be nervous.” You say, looking into Eddie’s eyes. He nods, taking another deep breath and letting it out and you can feel some of his nerves leave him. He nods again and you smile at him.
“I’m still me, you’re still you.” Eddie echoes. He takes a final deep breath before looking at you, returning a flash of a smile.
You spit in your hand, bringing it to your core, getting yourself wet. You motion for Eddie to come closer and when he does, you wrap your fingers around him enough to line him up with your entrance.
“Okay, so just push in. But slow please.” You guide.
“Slow, got it.” He replies, hips beginning to move towards you.
He takes your words to heart, pushing in extremely slow. So slowly, you aren’t even sure if he’s moving, apart from the noises he’s trying to hold back— and there’s a lot of them, which must mean he’s getting something from this.
You move your hand to his hip, pulling him towards you and he moves a little faster at your guidance. You start to feel a pinch, then it turns into a stretch. He continues pushing in slowly, the stretch turning to a very mild burn.
“Are you almost in?” You ask, squeezing your eyes closed.
“Almost, like another inch, maybe?” He says, hand squeezing your knee.
“Okay— good.” You breathe.
“Are you okay?” He asks, movements stilling.
“Just stings, but keep going.” You say, trying to unclench the muscles you keep tensing by accident. He complies, pushing into you slowly again.
His hips finally press flush against yours and Eddie stills. Looking up at him, you see his mouth working back and forth, eyes glancing over your body like he’s trying not to look too hard or too long at any particular spot. You’re about to tell him that he can touch you again but his mouth opens, sucking in a breath like he’s about to say something.
“You’re really warm. Like… inside.” He says. His voice sounds strangled but you can tell he’s trying to come across as casual. You can’t help but laugh.
This is what you wanted. It’s easy. You feel comfortable enough to laugh. You trust Eddie and despite his nerves, he’s doing a good job.
With your hand on his hip, you keep him still, giving yourself time to adjust, and he complies, taking deep breaths that you subconsciously align your own breathing to.
When the sting relaxes into a dull ache, you take a final deep breath before relaxing your grip on Eddie.
“Okay, you can move, Eddie.” You say, pushing against his hip. He looks up at you long enough to nod, before moving his eyes back down to your center.
He pulls out slowly, just a touch faster than he pushed in and it’s such a foreign feeling to you. It’s on the cusp of being something you might enjoy… but not quite there.
When he pushes back in, it’s a little quicker and you get the same almost pleasure feeling.
“Fuck.” Eddie groans, hands squeezing harshly on your knees.
“It’s okay?” You ask. The tone of his voice catches you off guard. You’ve never heard Eddie sound like that before.
“Y-yeah. You’re really tight.” He says in that same tone. It’s deep, it’s raspy, and he sounds out of breath. It’s hot. Your stomach twirls, and you watch his face as it contorts in pleasure, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his brows pinched harshly together.
He looks like he’s really enjoying it, but… apart from seeing him like this, you aren’t.
You shift your hips, trying to find any ounce of pleasure but if anything, it just feels like he’s prodding at you. Not uncomfortable but definitely not pleasurable.
“Eddie, does this… feel good for you?” You ask tentatively. You know the answer, you can tell by the way his breathing has turned into little pants but you figure there must be something you’re missing. You can’t help but feel a pinch of jealousy that it feels that good for him.
“Fuck. Yeah, feels really good.” He groans, his thrusts slowly picking up in pace.
You lay still, watching Eddie thrust in and out of you. The image of him, face contorted in pleasure, and all the breathy little gasps spilling from him makes a hint of heat pool in your lower stomach, but this isn’t at all like you thought how sex would feel.
Maybe your next question comes out a little mean, but his radiating pleasure taunts you. It’s juvenile, but you can’t help but think how it’s not fair.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me if it feels good?” You watch as Eddie’s mouth drops open even further, his chest rising and falling harshly. His eyes squeeze shut and you aren’t even sure if he heard you.
“I’m gonna cum— shit. I’m sorry. I can’t- f-fuck.” He groans, his thrust becoming uneven, stuttering against you.
“Oh.” You say quietly. His thrusts are short and shallow until his movement still, cock pulsing inside you.
And just like that, it’s over.
“Jesus Christ.” Eddie groans, his hold on your knees becoming almost bruising. You feel a little more heat pool in your core seeing Eddie come undone but at this point, you know it’s over.
You continue laying still, watching Eddie’s face slowly unwind, eyes fluttering open. He pulls out, moving his way to lay back beside you on the bed, his breathing still harsh and ragged.
You watch as his head hits the pillow, eyes closing as he sucks in a deep breath, exhaling it harshly. His eyes open again, meeting your gaze.
“That was— holy shit.” He says breathily.
“Yeah?” You ask, trying not to sound disappointed because that most definitely was not ‘holy shit’ to you. Quite frankly… that was just shit. You’re not upset, not in the slightest, just jealous. Envious that it was so easy for him and not you. It’s irrational, and you know you shouldn’t be mad at him, but it doesn’t stop the bud of spite inside of you.
“Did that— sorry. Was that good for you?” He asks, head tilting towards you.
“No.” You say flatly. Your eyes go wide at your answer because you most definitely didn’t mean to say that, it just slipped without thinking.
And as you watch his face fall, every ounce of jealousy, envy, spite, anything you were feeling just seconds ago leaves you entirely, being replaced with regret for that one little word. You shouldn’t have said that.
Eddie was nervous. He was shy. He was tentative. Gentle. Careful. Respectful.
It was endearing. You found him cute.
You wanted it to be with Eddie because you trust him. He did everything you wanted.
It was his first time too.
“Oh” He says, eyes going round with disappointment.
“No! I mean it was fine. You did good Eddie, we’re no longer virgins!” You say excitedly, trying to fix your slip of the tongue. You smile but his face falls flat. You feel your heart pang as he deflates in front of you.
“Yeah… I’m sorry. Maybe— uh… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He says quietly, hand raising to his face, rubbing aggressively over his mouth and chin. You can tell he’s not buying your cover up and you genuinely feel bad.
“Don’t worry about it, Eddie. It was just the first time. I'm sure it’ll get better?” You say, trying to fix the sad look in his eyes but it only gets worse.
“That bad, huh?” He asks, and his demeanor breaks your heart. You should have kept your mouth shut.
“Don’t feel bad!” You say, sitting up to get a better look at him.
“Fuck— I’m so sorry.” He huffs, hand going back to rubbing over his jaw.
“No, don’t be sorry! It can only go up from here, right!” You try your best to fix your mistake but it’s not working.
“It was that bad.” He groans, hiding his face in his hands.
“Eddie, please don’t feel bad.” You say, moving to be able to fully look at him. “I wanted to lose my virginity to you because I trust you, Eddie. And it was perfect in that sense. You didn’t hurt me at all, and I really, really don’t want you to feel bad.” You say genuinely. You let your hand rest on his arm, trying to pull his hands away from his face.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He says again, palms pressing harder into his eyes despite you trying to pull them away.
“Eddie. I’m so serious. I wanted it to be with you for a reason. Please, please, don’t feel bad.” You try a final time.
He stays, hands covering his face for a while and you don’t know what else you could say to make it better so instead, you opt for getting dressed. Even when you shift on the bed, he doesn’t move.
It only takes a few minutes for you to be fully dressed. He laid still the whole time, hands pressed to his eyes, and you’re convinced he fell asleep.
“Maybe I should go?” You whisper quietly. His hands fly away from his face, eyes widening. His gaze takes you in, realizing that you’re fully dressed and he sits up quickly.
“You don’t have to.” He rushes out, his wide eyed gaze meeting yours.
“I probably should, right? It’s getting late.”
“Right…” He agrees sitting up. “I can drive you, if you want?”
“It’s nice out, I can walk.” You offer.
“I'll drive you, just give me a minute.” He replies, brushing off your comment.
“Sure.” You say politely, grabbing your bag from the floor.
You wait for him in the living room and it’s only a few minutes before he’s fully dressed. Wordlessly, you both go outside, and get in the van.
After a silent ride, he parks in front of your house.
“Eddie, I’m sorry. I feel like I ruined your first time.” You say.
“Shit. You have nothing to feel sorry about. I’m the only one who should be sorry.” He says, huffing an almost laugh.
“Don’t be sorry. Eddie, I told you already. I trust you and because of that it was a great first time.”
Eddie shrugs, not accepting your sentiment.
“I’ll see you?” You ask quietly.
“Yeah, see you.” He nods.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
It's been just over a week since you and Eddie slept together. A week of radio silence. Sure, it’s not like you two hung out everyday before, but you thought that, maybe, that might be different after you slept together. But nope.
You waited a while to call, trying to give him space since that night didn't exactly end as you hoped. While you waited, you hoped he would call, but he didn’t.
Eventually, you ended up calling, but you got his uncle, who said Eddie’s been busy the last few days and he hasn’t seen him much. Later that night, Eddie called, but your mom answered since you were staying at a friend's house. You called again yesterday, Eddie wasn’t home. You had expected him to call that night but he didn’t. And you’ve been thinking about it all day since it’s summer vacation, your parents aren’t home, and you just have a lot of time.
When there's a knock at the door you fully expected it to be a salesman or jehovah witness, but you were surprised to see Eddie. You didn't even have a chance to speak before his hand was on the door, pushing it open as wide as it could go.
“I want to try again.” He says, a slight breathiness to his voice as if he just rushed his way over here.
“What?” You ask confusedly.
“I want to try again.” He says a little louder before shrinking a little. “If you’ll let me, I mean. Only if it’s okay with you.”
“You… want to try again?” You ask, finally clueing in to what he’s talking about.
“Yeah. I feel fucking bad that I came—” He stops himself, turning around, looking to the street. “Can I explain inside?” He says, wincing slightly.
You usher him inside, spotting your neighbor on their porch and you pray to god they didn’t hear Eddie and if they did, they remain oblivious to what he was getting at.
As soon as the door is shut, Eddie’s speaking again.
“I meant to start with an apology.” He says, voice softer and less breathless.
“Eddie, I really don’t want to hear you apologize again. It was fine.”
“It wasn’t.” He states, raising his brows. He relaxes into sincerity, meeting your gaze. “I want to apologize for what happened after.” He says, pausing for any objections from you. You let him continue. “You were being really nice about it and I… I was being selfish. You already didn’t enjoy yourself, and then I made it your job to make me feel better about it. That was really shitty of me.”
“I felt bad, you know. It was your first time too.” You shrug.
“But you shouldn’t have had to coddle me like that. It wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.” He says softly. You can tell he’s genuinely sorry for it and you really do appreciate it. You nod, and he rolls his lips inwards, nodding back.
“Thank you.” You say. He nods again.
The room stills, the both of you in silence. You can tell Eddie wants to keep talking.
“So… outside you were saying?” You lead, prompting him. He catches your eye, smiling appreciatively for you being the one to break the silence.
“I was saying outside that I feel terrible that I came so quickly and it wasn’t good for you and I want to try again.. if you’ll let me.” He blunders out.
You raise your brows. This is more like the Eddie you know. Straight forward, to the point.
“I um— I don’t know what to say.” You laugh softly. You do feel a hint of apprehension. You’ve already accepted that the sex was bad but the part that really got you was what happened after. Not his sulking, but after you left. The not talking part. That was the last thing you wanted to come from this.
Despite your feelings, you can’t help but light up a bit at Eddie’s enthusiasm. His eyes are wild with it.
“You don’t have to say yes. But I did a fuck ton of research and look—” he says pulling out a folded piece of lined paper from his back pocket, starting to uncrumple it. “I took notes and everything. I want to do it right, so if you’ll let me…”
“You took… notes?” You ask amusedly. He holds the paper out to you and you cautiously take it.
“Yeah. I’m dedicated to this. I told you, I feel fucking terrible. I should have listened more, asked you questions, done so many things differently. So I just— I don’t know.” He says shrugging, hands wringing themselves.
You glance down at the paper to see his scribbled writing covering every inch of the paper. Your eyes gravitate to a very technical diagram of a vagina that he drew out.
“I don’t want to look at this.” You laugh, shoving the paper back to Eddie.
“Shit, sorry.” He laughs nervously. He goes pink in the face. Not exactly out of nerves like before, but more so flustered. It’s cute.
You can’t help but bite.
“So… what exactly did research entail?” You ask, holding back your smile.
“I went to the library first. Looked at some books there. Read some magazines… asked a few people.”
“People?” You question worriedly.
“No— no don’t worry! I didn’t tell them it was you or anything. It was mostly just books and magazines that I read, I swear. I just wanted to make sure some things were actually true.”
“And… you really want to do this?” You ask. You're intrigued and his effort is very endearing. You did say that it could only get better…
“Yes! But only if you’re comfortable with it. Doing it once was generous— so if you say no, I understand.”
“Generous?” You laugh.
“Yeah. Like, that was a cool thing to do, you know?” He shrugs, cheeks flaring.
“Cool?” You laugh again.
“Yeah.” He replies, cracking a smile.
Your eyes gravitate to the sheet of paper in his hand. You don’t really have anything to lose, right? You’ve done it before and if he really is dedicated to this like he says he is… might as well give it a shot?
“Yes.” You say firmly, your mind made up.
“Yes?”
“Let's try again.” You exhale.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t do any research but… if you’re okay with that, my answer’s yes.”
Eddie perks up, eyes becoming filled with excitement. He looks at his sheet of notes for a moment before his gaze finds yours again.
“Do you have a calendar?” He asks plainly.
“A calendar, Eddie? What?” You ask, feeling confused all over again.
“I just… yeah. Just like a regular calendar.” He shrugs.
“In my room.” You lead him upstairs, pulling the calendar down from your wall and handing it over.
“Okay, thank you. And when was your last period?” He asks, laying the calendar down flat on your desk, fingers drumming over the dates.
“My last period, Eddie, what the fuck?” You laugh.
“No, seriously. If you’re ovulating it’s supposed to be better, so last period was…?” He says, fingers gliding over the calendar.
“Like two— three-ish weeks ago?” You say, pointing at the general days on the calendar.
“Okay, okay. Just gimme a minute.” He says, flattening his notes down on the surface next to the calendar. “Alright, so if this was the first day of your period, then you should be ovulating? Or almost ovulating?” He says, fingers sliding along the weeks, counting quietly under his breath.
“Eddie, it sounds like you’re trying to get me pregnant.” You laugh nervously.
“No! No, I swear to god, no! I just- I read that it’s supposed to feel better for you during that week, so, like, now would be a really good time for me to… you know, try to make you feel good.” He says, eyes going wide as he turns towards you, looking the slightest bit mortified.
“Oh…” you respond, brows raised as you try not to laugh in his face. It’s endearing it really is, but… this boy is so odd. “Alright then.” You nod, your lips tugging into a smile.
“Yeah. So I can check that off.” He says, grabbing a pencil from your desk and physically checking off one of his notes. “So next, is foreplay.”
“Foreplay?” You parrot, laughing in disbelief.
“Yeah. I think that’s where I really fucked up last time. I mean, I didn’t even kiss you, for christ sake. And I didn’t touch you at all before, so yeah. Foreplay.” He says, exhaling harshly.
“You want to kiss me?” You ask nervously. Your heart picks up as your gaze flickers to his lips.
“I mean, yeah.” He says, going shy. “But I didn’t know if you would have wanted me to cause we’re not… you know, together.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“You could have kissed me.” You smile at him, your stomach going fluttery at the thought.
“Really?” He asks in disbelief.
“Yeah.” You affirm, feeling your cheeks heat up.
“Cool.” He nods slowly, smiling.
“So.. are you going to?” You ask, sheepishly. He meets your gaze, eyes slowly lowering to your lips. He nods his head, stepping closer to you.
When your eyes flutter closed, you feel his lips press against yours, soft as a feather.
He pulls away and you almost think it’s over until he pulls you back in, hands on your waist, bringing you closer to him. His lips meet yours again and it’s entirely different from the first. His lips work against yours and it leaves you dazed, struggling to keep up with the unexpected, but it’s perfect.
His hands still on your waist, he guides you to lean against your desk, his body pulled flush to yours. His hands rub up and down your sides slowly, adding to your fluttery dizziness.
The kiss deepens, his tongue licking along your lower lip and you part your mouth. He’s gentle with you, tongue imploringly licking into your mouth, almost as if he’s testingly seeing what you like best. It gives you butterflies, something you’ve tried to not dwell on getting from Eddie in the past.
His hand trails up your waist, taking purchase on your jaw, guiding your mouth against his until his kisses slow, his lips meeting the edge of your mouth before trailing down the side of your face.
You swallow harshly before speaking. “That was really good.” You say, clearing your voice. You practically feel Eddie’s lips turn up in a smile against your jaw.
“Yeah?” He asks breathily against your skin.
“Yeah. I think your research is working so far.” You say, squeezing your eyes shut as his kisses trail down your neck.
You open your eyes when the kisses stop and you feel him pull away.
“Yeah?” He asks excitedly, making eye contact with you. His gaze is a combination of shock, disbelief, and amusement and it’s adorable. It pulls on all of your heart strings at once.
The attentiveness, effort, the everything from right now mixes with everything from before. Gentle, careful, respectful, you trust him. You trust him and you think he’s cute, endearing, adorable, and you want him.
“Keep going.” You say, your own voice going breathy.
“Right.” He mumbles, face pressing against your neck again.
You bring your hand to the back of his head, fingers entwining in his hair. As soon as you do, you feel a nip of teeth that makes you gasp. He cleverly soothes the area with his tongue after, making a whimper rise in your throat that surprises you when it falls from your lips.
“Eddie, who’d you get that from?” You whisper curiously, voice sounding pathetically whimpery.
“Dunno, s’just something I picked up.” He replies, pulling away enough for his breath to fan over your damp skin, giving you shivers.
He nips again, chasing it with a harsh suck that makes your head spin. You can’t help but feel like he’s showing off now but you don’t care, you let him. He has you at a place where you’re his for the bending, malleable in his hands.
“W-what’s next on your list?” You stutter through his kisses.
“Not done with this yet.” He says, voice gravelly and low. You nod your head, not bothering to try to speak again.
His kisses work lower and lower until they meet the neckline of your shirt. You feel his fingers on your hip playing with the hem of your shirt, tugging and lifting it just enough to get your attention. You nod again, wanting it off.
“Eddie.” You whine, pushing your chest against his when he doesn’t do it right away.
He pulls away from you again, and when he looks at you, he looks surprised.
“What?” You question, feeling embarrassed.
“N-no! Nothing, that was just.. really hot. Wasn’t expecting that s’all.” He stutters, both hands now on your waist, rubbing up and down.
You feel your face burn, feeling shy all of a sudden. You know he picks it up because his eyes focus on you, pausing everything.
“D’you want me to keep going?” He asks, and you nod your head.
“Want you to take my shirt off.” You whisper.
“Yeah?” He laughs.
“Eddie.” You whine, feeling embarrassed at how much he’s affecting you.
“C’mon let’s get your shirt off, pretty girl.” He coos and you feel your stomach flutter. His hands lower to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and you raise your arms cooperatively.
“You think I’m pretty?” You ask just as the shirt pulls over your head.
“Hell yeah. I think you’re beautiful.” He says, stopping to look into your eyes as he says it. You lower your gaze, fixing it on your shirt in Eddie’s hands.
“Which is another thing I fucked up last time, by the way.” He adds, dipping his face to meet your gaze.
“Hm?” You hum, head spinning too fast to keep up.
“Last time. I didn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are.” He says. His eyes flutter over your face, hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to, so I didn’t. But believe me, I thought about it.” He says, dipping his face down to press a chaste kiss to your shoulder.
“Eddie.” You reply not knowing what else to say. Your heart beats faster and it’s all consuming, adding sweet to your ever growing list of things you like about Eddie. He’s always been sweet, but this feels bigger, and it makes your heart squeeze.
“Want me to take this off?” He asks, fingertips sliding under the strap of your bra.
“Please.” You whisper, using all the air left in your lungs to muster the single plea.
His fingers trail behind your back, tickling you along the way until they reach the clasp, unfastening it hook by hook, letting it fall to the floor.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. So perfect. Wish I had said it the first time.” He says lowly, between kisses on your shoulders.
You hum, both because you don’t know what else to say and also because you are so fully absorbed by Eddie. You watch him as his kisses get lower on your collarbones
“S’this okay?” He asks, kisses stopping before reaching your chest.
“Uh-huh.” You breathe. Your hands move the back of his head again, tugging him lower until his kisses meet your chest. His hands rise tentatively until they press against the roundness of your breasts. Another moan falls from your lips and that spurs him on enough to more confidently massaging you, adding kisses to the mix.
“C-can we lay down.” You stutter, trying to catch your breath.
“Anything you want, pretty girl.” He replies, continuing his kisses. He guides you, taking steps backwards to the bed, turning you so the backs of your knees hit the mattress.
You lay down and he follows, hovering over you more comfortably than last time.
You close your eyes, absorbing the weight of Eddie on top of you, and you feel hot everywhere. It’s completely contradictory to last time and he still has every piece of clothing on. Before you can even think of asking him to take off his clothes, you're startled by the wet, hot feeling of his mouth on your nipple.
“Eddie.” You moan. Embarrassment isn’t a feeling you can harbor anymore, Eddie has you so entranced. Your chest rises and falls harshly, panting as his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. You feel like your skin’s prickling and your heads empty, the only thing that exists right now is you and Eddie.
He switches, paying the same attention to your other breast and you spread your legs further, letting Eddie fall closer to you, hips pressing against yours.
“Want clothes off.” You whimper, his teeth grazing before sucking harshly on the delicate skin.
“Mine or yours.” He mumbles, words vibrating against your chest and you’re sure you’re covered in goosebumps.
“Both, Eddie.” You moan.
He makes quick work of pulling his shirt over his head. His hands go to the button of your shorts, stopping to look at you first.
“I want to try something first, if that’s okay?” He says, dipping down to meet your gaze.
“Eddie.” You whine, not caring the slightest, you can only think of wanting your clothes off.
“I can take these off?”
“Take them off.” You reply, getting impatient. He watches you, and he still looks surprised. You bring your own hands down, and it sets him in motion, popping the button open and pulling them down your legs.
“Baby, you’re doing okay?” He asks, as he tosses your shorts to the side.
“M’doin’ good Eddie, keep going please.” You breathe, squirming on the mattress.
“Fuck, okay.” He replies, voice gravely again. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to the floor and begins shifting backwards on the bed. It surprises you, pulling you out of your spinning daze as he disappears between your legs.
“Eddie, what are you doing?” You ask, sitting up slightly.
“M’gonna eat you out. That okay?” He asks, lifting his head to look back at you. You’re obviously familiar with the term, but you’ve never had anyone do it to you before, making his actions unexpected. You don’t know what you thought he was gonna do, but it wasn’t that.
You lay back down on the mattress, exhaling deeply.
“Hey? Is it okay? I don’t have to.” He says softly, getting your attention. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers.
“You can.” You reply nervously. He squeezes your hand.
“We can stop anytime, okay?” He says, eyes searching yours and making it clear that he means it.
Trust is starting to seem more like an understatement. All of the good things you like about Eddie, you’ve always liked about him. Maybe it’s the way your head is spinning or maybe it’s just how Eddie’s always been, but you get a burning feeling for him. Not a desire or a neediness born from the heat of the moment, but like an adoration, like a particular thump of your heart exists just for him.
“Okay” you reply, nodding your head.
Still holding your hand, he lowers himself again. His breath reaches your cunt and you feel shivers erupt up and down your spine, excitement blooming in your belly.
“Just gonna ask you one thing, okay? Need your help a little, just tell me what you like, gotta tell me what feels good, okay?” He says softly, popping up once again to look at you.
You nod, squeezing his hand, and he lowers his head again.
Your whole body jerks as you feel his tongue lick up your core. It’s wet and hot and something you’ve never felt before.
“Holy shit.” You gasp, squeezing his hand again.
“Good or bad?” He asks from between your legs.
“Do it again.”
He does it again and it’s good. Definitely good.
“Good, Eddie. Really good.” You reply breathily. He squeezes your hand in acknowledgement before his tongue is on you again. The warm heat of his breath and his tongue meet your slit, licking up, parting your folds and catching on your clit, making you jolt again.
When his thumb on the back of your hand starts running back and forth on your skin soothingly, you melt entirely. Relaxing into everything.
His tongue explores your cunt, lapping up and down before he focuses on your clit, making you gasp. It feels like the almost pleasure you got last time but a million times better. It’s actual pleasure this time, not almost. It tingles all the way up into your belly and you can’t help the way your breathing turns into soft moans.
His tongue swirls around your clit and your mouth drops as your mind reels at the feeling.
“F-fuck.” You gasp when he switches to sucking, making your hips buck against him. “S’really good, Eddie.” You moan.
“You’re so wet this time, baby.” He groans, the vibrations of his words against you making you whimper. The tingles traveling to your belly start to tense, making your breathing turn into quick pants. You want to tell Eddie he’s doing a good job but you can’t get the words out through your gasps, so instead you find purchase on the back of his head with your free hand, tangling your fingers in his hair, hoping he’ll understand.
He switches between lapping at you, flicking his tongue, and sucking your clit. The wet sounds of his mouth against your cunt filling the room, adding to the way your body’s growing impossibly hot, stomach tightening into a tight knot.
When you feel his fingers at your entrance, you gasp. He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back.
He pushes in one finger first, it’s similar to the prodding from before but much better with his mouth working against you.
He works his finger in and out of you before slipping a second in and the slight stretch that comes with it leaves you reeling. You think that feeling alone is fantastic until he curves his fingers upwards into an almost hook shape.
Prodding turns into straight pleasure as he wiggles his fingers in and out, hitting a place inside of you that leaves you gasping for air.
“Eddie. G-good.” You moan, your stomach tensing harshly. You feel your thighs start to shake as moans, gasps, and whines leave your mouth unwillingly.
“You're getting really tight.” He hums, lips barely leaving your clit. All you can do is whimper as the vibrations of his voice push you further and further into pleasure. “Baby, you gonna cum?” He hums again.
You nod your head ferociously not being able to produce words.
“That’s it, cum for me, baby.” He groans between flicks of his tongue. His words travel straight to your stomach adding to the pulsing knot.
Your hips buck insenstantly and you feel like you’ve lost total control of your body. All that you can feel is pleasure rippling through you like waves, hitting an all time high, and you break. You cum, harder than ever before. You’ve tried on your own before and it’s barely been worth noting, but this.. this is earth shattering.
You feel weightless, floating, all of the tension leaving your body. It’s magnificent, perfect, it feels like you’re in a dream. The only thing that tethers you to reality, is Eddie’s hand in yours and the way his thumb gently pushes into the back of your hand.
You feel yourself settling down from your high, but as Eddie’s mouth keeps working against you, you feel the edges of your vision go dark. Your body fights with prolonging and pushing away the pleasure as it takes you whole.
“E-Eddie.” You choke out, squeezing his hand. Your hips buck, and he understands, slowing down.
Sucking in a deep breath, you squeeze his hand again and his motions come to a slow halt.
You are astounded.
Absolutely astounded.
You have no words.
You tug him by the hand, you need him closer.
“You okay?” He whispers, as he moves up by your side. You pull him by the hand, willing him to hold you as you turn on your side. He complies, giving you everything you need.
You take steady breaths that help you settle back into your body. It could be seconds, could be minutes, could be hours that pass, but eventually you catch your breath, finally grasping the moment.
“Holy shit.” You exhale. Holding onto Eddie’s arm wrapped around your stomach.
“Was it good?” He asks nervously. You lean back, turning to lay flat on your back so you can see him.
“Was it good? Eddie, holy shit.” You say, widening your eyes as you take in his nervous features and flushing cheeks. Your eyes trail down to his slick coated face. His lips slowly curl into a smile and fuck, you finally understand how he felt after the first time.
“It worked?” He laughs.
You take his face in your hands and you kiss him hard. Yeah, it fucking worked, holy shit.
His tongue licks into your mouth immediately, his slick coated lips giving you a taste of yourself. Keeping your hands on his cheeks, you continue kissing him, tongues working in sync until you can’t keep up.
He kisses you breathless. When your head goes dizzy, all you can focus on is the reemerging pulse between your legs.
Lowering your hands to his hips, you guide him on top of you. He tries to lift himself, hovering not to put all his weight on you but you need it, so you pull him until he rests flush against your body.
Your hands explore up his chest, wrapping around his sides until you take purchase on his back, pulling him as close to you as you can.
Through his clothes, you feel his hardened length resting against you, and you roll your hips up looking for relief, making Eddie gasp into your mouth.
You do it again and his mouth stops moving against yours, feeding a whimper right into your lungs.
“Clothes.” You pull away just enough to whisper, grinding your hips upwards against him.
Eddie’s lips still against yours, he’s resolved into quickened breaths in and out, breathing into your mouth.
“Want you Eddie.” You whine, not getting enough relief from your grinding.
“Clothes.” He echoes mindlessly, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t move, so you take to moving your hands down, folding your fingers under his belt, blindly searching for an edge to pull at.
“Take them off.” You say a little louder.
“Right. Clothes.” He says, finally snapping out of whatever transfixion he was stuck in.
He pulls away, and you miss the feeling of his chest against yours immediately. You watch as he undoes his belt and pants, pushing both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, struggling to get them off. Eventually, he takes to standing, nearly falling off the edge of your bed, making you giggle. When he finally has them off, he’s quick to resume his position overtop of you.
“I’m getting ahead of myself. Need to make sure you’re doing good.” He says, blinking back the glazed over look in his eyes.
“I’m doing so good, Eddie.” You purr, hands trailing up the expanse of his back.
“Everything feels good? Do you need me to do anything else?” He brings a hand to the edge of your face, pushing your hair back, making your heart flutter and core ache at the same time.
“Want you inside.” You whisper.
“I can do that.” He laughs breathily. He reaches down to the floor, his body weight laying on top of you as he reaches for his discarded pants. After a bit of fumbling, he sits up again, condom in hand. His hands slip on the packaging until he grows frustrated, ripping the corner of the foil open with his teeth. You feel heat pool in your core at the sight, wanting him more than you’ve ever wanted anything.
“Eddie, you’re so pretty.” You say breathily, his eyes flicker up to you from his focus as he rolls the condom down his length. You see pink raise on his cheeks as his lips turn up at the corners.
“You think so?”
“Know so. So beautiful and cute and adorable and hot and I want you.” You ramble, feeling absolutely drunk off of how insanely fast he has your head spinning with lust. You want him in a lot of different ways, every way. You raise your hands to his shoulders tugging him closer.
“My pretty girl.” He whispers, dipping his face down to kiss you.
“Yours.” You mumble against his lips right before they meet yours. It rolls off your tongue naturally and it feels right. You’re his. Entirely enraptured by him, entirely swept up by him.
You can pinpoint the exact moment he processes what you said. He had started kissing you hungrily, then it was like it hit him. His mouth stopped moving against yours, and when you slid a hand up to hold his jawline, his mouth started to move again, but differently.
The kiss turned sweet, gentle, tender. It turned meaningful and slow, like every touch of his lips against yours and every caress of his tongue had purpose. You indulge yourself in the change of pace until you can't anymore.
“Eddie, please.”
“I got you, sweet girl.” He whispers.
The sunsetting leaves the two of you in the low golden glow. Eddie’s face illuminates with the light bleeding in through your sheer curtains and your heart beats a little faster as you watch him lean back, his cock in his hand, rubbing his fist up and down his length once before lining it up with your entrance.
The confidence he holds now, compared to last time, makes you swallow thickly. Last time it was cute and endearing, this time, he works you into pleasure and it leaves you reeling for more. This time he says you’re his, and you agree. You always have been in a way. Trust was a disguise, trust was a front. You like Eddie. You always have.
“Ready, pretty girl?” He asks, voice low as he stares into your eyes. You feel his head at your entrance and you clench in anticipation.
“Ready.” You chorus, relaxing yourself. It’s literal in the way you relax your muscles, but it’s also metaphorical in the way you open yourself up entirely for him. This isn’t your first time, but it’s the time that matters. It’s the time where he is completely himself and you are completely yourself. It’s everything you wanted and more— more that you didn’t realize you needed until now.
He pushes in and you both sigh in tandem. Your sighs mature into moans as he slowly pushes in, fully bottoming out inside of you.
“Does it hurt?” He asks, voice quiet and carefilled.
“Not like last time.” You answer.
“Sorry, baby.” He whispers, dipping his face to yours, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Sorry it hurt last time and I didn’t even kiss it better.” He continues, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips.
“S’okay, Eddie. You’re doing so good now, feels so good.” You reply, voice just as quiet as his. You pull his face down, pressing your own tender kiss to his lips before trailing your hands down the front of his chest, rounding them to hold his sides.
He shifts his hips, withdrawing from you slowly. You guide him with your hands, willing him to keep going, and he does.
“S’feel okay?” Eddie says through a strangled breath.
“Feels good.” You breathe.
“You sure? We can put a pillow under—” he starts to explain, slowing his already slow motions.
“Want you to go faster.” You interrupt.
“Faster.” He echoes, almost like he’s coaching himself. You hum as he complies, drawing his hips and pushing them back into you at a quicker pace.
Him filling you up and stretching you out felt entirely different this time, way better, and it has you absolutely dizzy. It’s not prodding this time, it’s more like a roll that leaves you breathless, panting just to fill your lungs. His cock grazes your sweet spot with every pump into you and with every other thrust, his hips meet yours completely, teasing your clit with their contact.
“Harder.” You whisper, and he complies silently apart from the way he harshly sucks in a breath.
His hips begin snapping against yours, the slap of skin on skin echoing in your room mixing with the obscene, wet noises of his cock pushing in and out of you, complimenting the breathy moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. Each thrust hits your clit, making you shudder, hips jolting and stuttering with your pleasure.
You feel your insides start to tense and you know you’re close. His thrusts start to falter as his breathing turns ragged.
“So close Eddie, please.” You whine. He breaths a whimper, hips picking up again, returning to his quick, hard pace.
“Cum for me, baby. Need you to cum for me.” He says breathily, voice pitching up. His hand reaches down past your belly, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it and it sends your hips into a spasm of stutters.
“Eddie.” You cry. You feel your body go rigid before your pleasure explodes, freeing you from the reigns of tension and pushing you into pure ecstasy.
Eddie only musters a few more thrusts with the way your cunt clamps down onto his cock, fluttering and pulsing all around him as your orgasm takes you over. Strangled whimpers pull from his lungs as he prolongs your pleasure until he breaks alongside you.
“F-fuck. Shit. I’m c-cumming.” He grunts, cock twitching inside you as his balls press firmly against your ass. His hips stutter, shallow thrusts pushing in and out, the warmth of his cum filling the condom. With your half lidded eyes, you watch Eddie— his face contorting in pleasure, and you enjoy the moment, committing it to memory.
Eddie stills completely apart from his heavy breathing that matches yours. He surprises you when he rolls onto his back, taking you with him, pulling you over his chest, his cock still firmly pressed inside of you.
“Eddie.” You laugh breathily.
“J-just need to feel you for another minute.” He replies hazily, eyes squeezed shut. His hands wrap around your back, hugging you closely and you relax into him tentatively. His hands pull you down again, and you have no choice but to put all of your weight on him.
When your combined panting resolves to steady breathing, he breaks the silence. “Was that better?” He asks, pushing his head back into the pillow to look at you.
“That was… better than better. Way, way, way better.” You say whimsily. It was perfect, it was everything, you don’t have any words.
“Yeah?”
“That was like… I don’t even know. I can’t even describe it, just so so good. Really.” You say in awe, reflecting on what just happened.
“You can tell me the truth.”
“Eddie.” You say warningly, lifting your head to really look at him. “If you studied like that for all your classes you’d be valedictorian. A++, honestly Eddie.” You say.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” He asks, still sounding unsure.
“You should frame those notes you wrote, hang them up like a diploma in your room.”
“Okay, now you’re just teasing me.” He laughs, turning his head away from you to hide his smile.
“No! And you wanna know how serious I’m being right now?” You say, reaching up and taking one of his curls, swirling it around your finger, grabbing his attention.
“How?” He asks, turning back to you.
“Because I’m already thinking about doing it again.” You whisper. You watch Eddie as his smile grows.
“Really?” He asks, eyes beaming.
“Yes.” You nod, pressing your lips together as your smile grows.
You watch Eddie as a whirlwind of emotions take over his face, it’s disbelief, happiness, excitement, a few you can’t parse, before it settles into nervousness. It makes your belly knot in nerves immediately.
“Last time… I was— after, I was so upset because…” He starts, eyes fluttering over your face, avoiding your gaze. He takes a breath before continuing. “I was so upset because I wanted to ask you out, and then after the sex was bad, I kind of figured you’d never go out with me.”
“You wanted to ask me out?” You say, pushing yourself up with your arms to see his full face.
His eyes flood with worry, and you reach down, pushing his damp bangs from his forehead. He finally looks at you and all you can do is smile. His nerves settle the slightest bit as he relaxes into his own sheepish smile.
“I would still like to, if that’s okay with you?” He asks, shyly.
“It’s really okay with me.” You reply.
“Maybe I can ask when I’m not still inside you?” He laughs softly, eyes flickering to your lips. “Not that I don’t think this is romantic, but…” he trails off when you start laughing, watching you closely as you do, dimples set deeply in his cheeks.
You nod your head before lowering your face to his. He meets you halfways, pressing his mouth to yours, kissing you sweetly.
“My pretty girl.” He whispers as he pulls away.
“Yours.” You whisper back, smiling.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
After a few more moments of you resting on top of Eddie, the two of you begin to shift, slowly separating from one another. Lazily cleaning yourselves up, trading discarded clothes as you pick them up from the floor, it’s a good memory, one you want to keep forever.
The sun now tucked beneath the skyline, your room glows in the low light form your lamp, Eddie’s heartbeat serving as the background music to this moment. You settle deeper into his chest, and he hugs you tighter.
It wasn’t the first time, but it was the time that mattered the most.
As far as silent moments go, there’s not many with Eddie. He breaks the quiet of the room, shifting to look at you.
“I think I might want to be a vagina doctor, I know so much shit about vaginas now.” He says, completely serious. You choke on a laugh, surprised by his comment.
“Really?”
“No.” He says, tilting his face so you can see his smile. “Just know a lot now.” He laughs.
synopsis| You and Eddie were never meant to be just friends.
an| written in a world where Eddie was never accused, never died, and more importantly, finally graduated. not very canon, billy’s still alive and briefly mentioned. this was a quick break from a fix-it fic I’m currently writing and very much inspired by the song touch tank by quinnie. it’s eddies song and i’ll die on this hill.
warnings| oral (female receiving), PnV (protected), Eddie running his mouth, thats a warning in itself, 18+ only
[June 9, 1986]
The pitiless Indiana sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its uv-rays biting at your bare skin. The cool pool water lapping over your legs every time Eddie moved was the only relief at the moment.
“Have you ever been in the ocean?” He asked lazily, his long fingers flicking water across your bare thighs. The two of you lay opposite each other in the barely six foot wide and three foot deep blow up pool set up next to his front porch. Your feet floated next to his shoulders, grazing the freckled pale skin there every time he shifted or turned. Meanwhile, tall and gangly Eddie had his head propped up on the blue polyvinyl rim, his own feet hung over the side next to your head. He had bitched and moaned once the two of you had finally finished setting it up, “I don’t even fit all the way.” He’d complained. “Why’d you buy a damn kiddie pool?”
summary: it's not hatred that looms between you and eddie, but it sure feels like it. maybe a charged summer night may be able to clear a few things up.
fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, cum eating, blow jobs, heavy making out, fingering, teasing, mentions of weed, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, soft eddie for the win
There are about forty billion planets in the milky way galaxy that could support life. Planets far beyond what human understanding could reach, and hold the capability of supporting life far better than earth could. Yet, somehow, with your luck, the planet you seemed to be stuck on just so happened to be the same one with Eddie Munson.
Eddie Munson and his rings resemble every single thing you hated about him; his flare, his over-the-top persona, his all-around charismatic nature. He never seemed to brush his hair, his tattoos were already bleeding into his skin, and his shirt was always halfway tucked into his ripped jeans. He always drove his van recklessly into the school parking lot, his music on blast as you muttered angrily to yourself that this was a public place.
“Keep it down, Munson. Can practically feel my ears bleeding.” You’d tell him every time, your words are hidden behind a fake sneer as you grasp onto the straps of your bag, your lips curling upwards as he jumps out from the driver’s side, his hair in its usual hectic nature as he tilts his head to the side.
“Then how’d you know I was coming?” He’d answer back, the door slamming shut as he walked away, your brows furrowing into a seething glow, your nose wrinkling as you walked away, his own angry mumbling reaching your ears as the two of you go at acting like it was only hatred that caused these interactions to occur.
It was years of this constant back and forth bickering that everybody seemed to pick up on, the bantering between you and the supposed “Devil of Hawkins” that never stopped and had no means of ending. And for many, it was confusing how you, the top girl of your class, graduating as number one, could even busy yourself with clashing with the club leader of the Hellfire Club, but even you nor Eddie had an answer to how this all started. The only thing the two of you could mutually agree on was the fact that one day he ticked you off and he never stopped doing things to push your buttons.
“Off to castrate another devil worshiper? Who’s it this time? Wheeler?” He’d ask, watching as you’d roll your eyes, walking past him in the near-empty hallway, finding your locker as you slammed it open. He heard a huff of annoyance escape your lips, and he grinned knowing that he could perhaps be the only one who could break your picture-perfect attitude.
“You’re next on my list, Munson.” You’d say through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as you shove your notebooks back into your bag, ignoring the curious gazes of the on-lookers as they observe your interaction with the spawn of satan just as they always seemed to do.
But, in all honesty, Eddie Munson wasn’t even that bad.
Sure, you hated how he always walked like he knew he was better than everyone. You really just despised how his cologne smells much too good for the likes of him but had it not been for his obnoxiously loud music that played right next to where you were parked and how he barely showed up to group projects, Eddie wasn’t the worst person to have graced Hawkins.
In fact, you kind of liked his tattoos. You could see some peeking out from the confines of his white hellfire shirt, and some of you yearned to see them to their fullest. And though his hair was a crazy mess on top of his head, his curls seemed perfectly tamed, just enough so they never tangled. His hands seemed gentle, and his smile was soft.
And the only times you saw him were at school, so it’s not as though you ever had to put up this facade for that much once you went home. You could argue as much as you wanted in the parking lot, in the halls, in class, whatever reached the limits of Hawkin’s High, but the two of you seemed to have an unspoken agreement that whatever thing it was that was happening between the two of you if should stick to the confines of the infamous building.
So that’s why when you saw him at Chrissy’s party you suddenly felt particularly queasy.
Leaning against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest as he was deep in conversation with one of his friends. You were shocked to see both of them here when half the school insisted that they were not to be meddled with. And you could see how people strayed away, a little circle collecting around them, backs turned as the students tried their best to ignore them. But fuck, you could feel your heart pounding just a bit quicker at the sight of his smudged eyeliner, the rings that littered his fingers, and the jacket he wore over his shoulders. He was simply gorgeous, unrightfully so, and it didn’t take much in you to admit that.
“What?” Your friend felt your hands squeeze hers more roughly, “Yeah, I know it smells like that beer you hate but…” She trailed off when her eyes found what you were looking at, her lips pressing into a thin line as she noted your uneasy expression.
“Why’s he even here?” You muttered, your friend having to lean down to catch your words as a childish sulk made its way onto your face.
“You do know that Chrissy buys her shit from him, right?”
In the way your eyes widened in obvious shock, she guessed that you didn’t know.
“Damn, you seem to know every little thing about him, don’t know how you missed this one.” She says, trying to lighten the darkened mood as you roll your eyes, pulling away from her as you move around the kitchen island, grabbing a bottle of water for yourself as you begin to chug it down.
“I don’t know everything about him.” You try to argue lamely as the water trickles down your chin. The both of you knew that was a lie, but she just shrugs, looking back into the crowd as her smile widens when she spots somebody.
“Holy shit, Buckley’s here…” She looked back at you, a sort of pleading and desperation look overtaking her features as she began to pout, already telling you enough as the water bottle crinkles in your hand.
“Shoot your shot,” You murmur with fake dejection, not able to control your little grin as you watch her face light up as she beams, “Meet me at the door at ten, though. Swear to god, don’t leave me here, okay?”
“I’ll be back! Promise!” She exclaims almost instantly, giving you a quick hug as she squeezed your back, shooting you a big, goofy smile as she quickly disappears into the thick of the crowd as you lean against the counter, picking at the wrapping of your bottle as you sink into yourself.
When it came to preferences, you preferred your home or even a movie. The mall was out of the question, seeing that it burned down, but even that was better than the congested state of whatever these parties were. The smell of sweat and cigars was thick enough to choke on, and most of the time you found yourself nauseous at the end of them.
“Looks like you’re about to puke yourself.”
Your hands gripped at the bottle just a little bit tighter at the drawl of the familiar voice, your pose growing rigid as your eyes darted to the side, widening just a bit as you saw him standing there, leaning his hips against the island opposite to you.
“‘Cause you walked in, Munson.” You say with a bite, bringing up the bottle back up to your lips as you take a hefty sip, suddenly becoming incredibly parched under the onslaught of his heavy gaze.
He snorts, fiddling with the rings that littered his skin as he watched you under his hooded eyes.
“Thought you never came to these things. Shouldn’t you be at home, studying? Don’t you have like, what, five scholarships lined up?” He cracks open his own bottle, and you try your best to look away as you watch his adam's apple bob up and down as he drinks.
“Try ten, Munson,” You correct, a small grin on your lips as he huffs out a tiny laugh, “And I don’t have any exams left. So…” You open your arms up, motioning to the party surrounding you, “Here I am.”
“What joy.” He said to himself, under his breath as you rolled your eyes at his statement.
“Why are you here though? You never struck me as the - well, the type, really. With the, y’know, whole spiel of not conforming to modern practices.” You ask, leaning your back on the wall as you make sure not to bump into any of the picture frames behind you.
He smirked, tucking a strand of his unruly hair behind his ear as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.
“Yeah, well,” He nudged a stray beer cap with the tip of his boot, “Wanted one last hurrah before I leave this…hellhole. And who am I to pass off at a party thrown by our very own queen of Hawkins High?”
“Careful there. Say hellhole again and people’ll think you’re gonna start doing some human sacrifices.”
Eddie chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he nods, a boyish grin making its way onto his face.
“If I do, you’re next on my list.”
You smile, lips tugging upwards as he mimics your words from a couple of weeks back. You find it both terribly annoying that you still managed to remember, and that he never seemed to forget the little things the two of you would say to each other.
“If you’re wondering, yes, these are new tattoos. Thanks for wondering.” Eddie quips, his voice laced with mockery as your stare jumps back to his face, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
“Huh…those are tattoos?” You say, picking at your nail as you taunt, “Thought you gave one of your hellfire friends a sharpie and told ‘em to go crazy.”
His smile drops back into a scowl, and you grin triumphantly once again as he grumbles to himself. Your hands drop to your sides, the bottle bouncing off of your thigh as you look back into the crowd, in search of your friend though you find her to your dismay. You guess she’s probably off in the congested space talking Robin’s ear off.
“Oh, come on Munson, don’t look so defeated. A couple of weeks from now and you’ll be free of me.”
And though your words were meant to offer him some peace of mind, they only cloud yours more. You should be happy. You should be pumping your fist in the air, glad to be away from him and the countless hours spent disputing with him. So why did it feel so longingly sad? As though you were losing a small piece of yourself? You knew that leaving Hawkin’s behind for college was going to hurt, but that’s because you had friends, family, and places you were going to miss.
Who was Eddie Munson to you for you to feel this way?
Eddie pursed his lips, staring at you as you quirked a brow, a small, pitiful smile on your lips as you tried to hold them back from wobbling. It was all too much, the sudden and impending realization that there was nobody like Eddie Munson that could make your heart churn and yearn at the same time.
“I know…don’t remind me.” He means it sarcastically, but even he can’t stop the grimace that makes its way onto his face when he admits it out loud.
You’d been reminding him all year. He doesn’t need tonight, his night of supposed relaxation, to be tainted with the oncoming actuality that you were going to leave and were probably never going to come back.
You hated him, you would tell yourself, but you didn't hate him because of his behavior, his loud music, or his constant parade of bleak vitriols. You hated how above everybody else, he was the only person who could make you forget who you were when you were with him, acting like a damn fool in love as you tried to hide it all behind a pathetic excuse of a facade.
“Why the long face? Worried I’ll somehow track you down even from Massachusetts?”
“Not likely,” He chuckles, rubbing at his jaw, looking as though he was deep in thought, debating on whether or not he should say what was on his mind. He gave a lifeless laugh as he shook his head, “Y’know… I’m actually kinda worried that you’ll find another Eddie Munson while you’re away.”
The bottle in your hand almost fell as your eyes widened at his words, your body going slack as you watched him pick at his jacket, a habit you had picked up on whenever he felt anxious, or nervous.
“Another Eddie Munson?”
“Yeah,” He says through a curt laugh, tilting his chin up so that he could look at you more clearly, “What if there’s somebody in that snotty school that’s more tatted than I am…sets you off like I do?”
“It’s not the tattoos that set me off, Munson, it’s you.”
He raises a brow at that, his lips threatening to pull into a smile as he rests his shoulder on the wall, turning sideways as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Me?” He laughs, not quite believing your confession as his tongue prods at his cheek, “Pray tell, just what about me does it for you? The hair, the eyes…my witty charm?” He’s testing, teasing you just as he always does. He wants to see you break, so you move out of the tight mold you’ve put yourself in for the entirety of your life. But you know what he’s trying to do, you can always read him like an open book, so you decide to indulge him.
“Now, Munson, I’m sure you don’t want me ruining your ego on the night of your…last hurrah.” You say through a smirk and watch him as he shrugs, looking unbothered by it as he motions for you to continue.
“I can take a hit.”
You snort, sighing deeply as you shake your head in a way that screams you did warn him as you set your bottle down, mimicking his movements as you cross your arms, tapping your foot on the ground as you squint.
“Your music, for one. It’s obnoxiously noisy, and you never turn it down,” You pause, waiting to see if he was going to argue but he was just waiting for you to continue, so you obliged, “You always showed up late to our group project for O'Connell's class, a-and even when you came you always managed to distract everybody there. Three, the hellfire club room used to be our room-”
“Decathlon had six members, it was never going to last.” He interrupted you as he heard you give an exasperated sigh, rubbing your forehead as you shake your head in annoyance.
“Hellfire has seven!” You exclaim and he pauses, looking somewhere as he counted all of your club members on one hand and then yours on the other. You watched as he then gave you a sheepish and apologetic grin.
You shake your head, clearing all of your tights as you take a step closer, no longer trying to sugar coat your words.
“You’re loud - I could never focus when I was trying to eat my lunch in peace. You always parked your car just close enough to my spot so that I could barely get into it. You’ve almost run me over ten, no…twelve times, of which you have never apologized for. You always smoke near me even though I’ve told you the smell makes my head hurt-”
“W-whoa, hold on,” He said with a forced laugh, his arms widening tighter together as his brows crease, “You’ve never told me that.”
You pause, mouth half open as you try to look back into all the times you’ve talked to him.
“I didn’t?”
“Wouldn’t have done it if you told me, sweetheart.” There he goes with that damn name, the same that made your legs weak and heart churn. You hated that a simple nickname could have such an effect on you, so strong that it almost made you forget what you were talking about.
“Oh, um, well, thanks…I guess,” You murmur, looking embarrassed as he raises his eyebrows at you. You look away, your body flushing under his gaze as you bite on your cheek, continuing with your rambling, “That’s - that’s not the point. Listen, Munson, what I’m trying to say is even if I miraculously - with my infinite amount of luck - found a six-foot, dungeons and dragons playing weed seller in college, none of them could match up to your…splendor.”
“My splendor?” He repeats with a chuckle, teasing you as you groan, trying to hide your winching face away from view.
“Yes…splendor. Splendor can mean surprising - surprising in a bad way - and you, Munson,” Your finger points at his chest, “Never fail to surprise me with what you do. You buzzed off your hair the night before the talent show. You can speak fluent French even though you haven’t turned up to a single lesson. You apparently deal with Chrissy….” You slightly pout, your voice quieter as you move a piece of trash with your shoe, “...do you?”
“Customer confidentiality.” He said smugly as you groan, mumbling nonsense underneath your breath as you wave your finger at him.
“You weren’t being very confidential when you told me that you dealt with that guy from the basketball team.” You try to argue and he can only look away, pick at his nails as he lets out a deep breath through his nose. He heaved a sigh, his curls falling into his face as he looked back up at you, his eyes round, warm, the exact thing that first made you fall for him.
“Is that all?”
You stutter, clearly not expecting this reaction as you slowly nod.
“W-well, yes. But I’m sure more will come to me later.”
He grins, nodding in agreement as he digs through the pocket of his jacket, pulling out something as he closes his fist around it.
“You let me know if anything pops up, yeah?” He dangles his car keys in front of you, “Next time, though. This party’s beginning to get too crowded, and I think somebody just said they think I’m gonna start performing a seance so…” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I’ll take it as my cue to leave.”
There’s a sinking feeling in your chest as he says that, a part of you wanting to reach out and tell him to stay because even though you just listed off everything a normal person would hate to hear about themselves, you knew he had a list double the length about you. You knew you had hours of things you could tell him about, things that you’ve wanted to for months, years, but were too fucking scared to admit out loud.
But almost as though he could read your mind, (you guessed he could after knowing you for so long), he spoke, stopping you in your train of thoughts.
“D’you need a ride home?” It was a casual question, simple enough to get a simple answer, but it was enough to send your heart into another spiel of mindless thinking, thoughts flooding your head as you cluelessly sputtered.
“I…” You look into the crowd, narrowing your eyes as you try to look for the familiar mop of red hair only to find her talking with Robin, a gleeful smile on their faces as they conversed about something you couldn’t hear, “Yeah…actually,” You sighed as your shoulder sank, a sign of you giving up, “I’ll be back.”
You weave past him with that as you plunge into the thickness of the students, bumping past elbows and bodies as you let out a flood of hurried apologies, reaching her familiar back as you tap her shoulder. You don’t have time to prepare yourself as she whips around, searching for who it was until they settle upon you.
‘H-hey!” She says, trying to speak over the loud volume of the people screaming around the two of you, “This is Robin!” She points to her even though you’ve already shared a couple of classes with her in the past. The two of you give each other an awkward smile and wave as you look back at your friend.
“I know, we had bio together last year! Hey, Jess, I’m a bit tired and I found a ride home. Thanks for inviting me…but I’m leaving!” You yell, your voice growing hoarse as her eyes widen in both shock and confusion at how in the span of half an hour you managed to get close enough to someone to drive you home.
“Who’s giving you the ride?” She exclaimed, apologizing to Robin as she gave you her full attention, the people around you giving glances at her loud outburst.
“It’s nobody that you know, don’t worry,” You say awkwardly as you give her a wave, “Have fun, bye.” You wince, trying to leave to no avail as she tightly grips your wrist, watching as her eyes rake over where she last left you, falling on Eddie as she watches him eyeing the door.
“Holy shit…now way…Munson?” She screamed, the name garnering more attention as people looked over at the two of you, heat burning at your face as you wish she could just quiet down a little bit.
“No,” You lie as she looks at you as though she was scolding you, “Alright - fine, yes. Don’t worry though - if he kills me, you’ll know he did it,” Her hand tightens at your weak joke and you can only muster up an apologetic shrug, “Just…enjoy your time, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” You squeeze her hand as you wrangle out her grip, giving her another smile as she mirrors yours with a confused one. You push past others as they art, walking over to where Eddie was standing as you tugged on his jacket.
“Hurry up Munson,” You titter, watching him jump a little by surprise as he finds you next to him, “My feet hurt, my neck is sweaty and I feel like I’m about to throw up. ”
He can only laugh nervously, hoping that the last part was a fib as he leads you towards the front door. You can practically feel the eyes of people drilling into your back as the two of you walk through the denseness of the crowd. People almost move away from him, not realizing you were there with him as they murmur curiously with one another.
He opens the door with a creak, extending his arms out as he waits for you.
“Ladies first.” He said, grinning as you grumbled under your breath, still going first as he followed after you, shutting the door behind him as you skipped down the steps of the house, hearing his shoe clunk in the background as you scan the vast neighborhood full of cars.
“Pretty sure you know which one is mine.”
And though you hate admitting he was right, he was, because you could immediately pick it out in the sea of all the others.
Even though you don’t voice it, Eddie takes the initiative as he walks towards it, taking longer strides than you as he unlocks the door. He opens it up just as he had done seconds ago, giving you that damn smile as he waited for you to catch up.
“Don’t look scared, she works pretty well,” Eddie says as he hauls himself up, settling in his own seat as he jams his keys in, the van roaring to life as his usual music comes on, flooding your ears as you think too soon.
“My house is down-”
“Down the road, to the left, last house till the cul de sac.” He finishes, not looking over at you as he fiddles with the sound, turning down the volume as you let out a breath of relief. That is until the confusion settles in as you wait for him to explain how he knows where you live.
“What?” He’s startled by the abrupt silence, almost expecting a thank you for accommodating your bland music taste as he looks up, catching your wide-eyed stare as his mouth falls open in an embarrassed chuckle, “Oh…that. Well, you were sick for a couple of days during O’Connell’s project, remember? And I wanted to drop off some things ‘cause I knew you’d come back to drag me by my hair if nobody filled you in on what was happening.”
“Still doesn’t explain how you have my address, Munson.”
“I asked your red-head friend for it. She seemed…willing to give it,” She shrugs, shooting you another grin as heat flares across your face, “Guess she never told you, huh?”
You can only shake your head, embarrassed as he chuckles, tutting as he shakes his head, the van moving as you grip the seats. Jess only told you that she dropped it off when you called, confused about the organized packed box of papers. She didn’t explain much, sounding far too enthusiastic for somebody who supposedly just dropped off homework.
The two of you don’t say anything, letting the dim sounds of Ozzy travel through your two bodies, and circle back until it becomes the only thing you could hear; aside from the blood thumping in your ear. It was a strange calm that washed over you as you watched him tap his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song, too focused on the road in front of him as his lashes fluttered against the soft skin of his cheek. Houses pass by you as he turns the corner, the asphalt crunching under the tires as you look out the window.
“There,” You mutter suddenly, and Eddie leans into his seat, squinting as he looks to where you were pointing and he clicks his tongue as the familiar house comes into view, looking just as it did months ago when he dropped by.
He slows the van down, his foot easing on the brakes as he pulls up to your house, the drive here was far too short, shorter than you remembered it being as he abruptly stops. You look out, staring at your house as you heave a swallow, your fingers trailing up to the handle as you struggle to find yourself to open the door.
“This one, right?” He asks, his voice almost inaudible as you nod, your fingers tracing little patterns onto the material of the door.
“Thanks…Munson.” You’re able to bite out, pulling at the handle as the door pops open, the night air hitting you in the face as you look back at him, offering him a curt smile as he gives you a little nod.
You’re about to hop out, your head screaming for you to stay, to tell him everything that’s been slowly bubbling up in you over the years. But before you’re able to get anything out, he cuts you off.
“I’m parched,” He says, “D’you have anything to drink?”
And just like that, everything dies down as you groan in annoyance, shooting him a look as you perk your brow.
“No funny business, okay, Munson?”
He crosses his heart, his palm over his chest as he holds three fingers up.
“Scouts honor.”
You roll your eyes at his corniness, opening up the door, and jump out as Eddie follows in suit. You can hear his keys jangling behind you as he locks his door, his boots crunching on the gravel as he rounds over his van, standing beside you as he waits for you to lead him up to the door.
Fishing out the keys from your pocket, you grumble as he whistles under his breath, a song you can’t quite place as you jam it into the keyhole, turning it to the right as the door opens. You’re greeted to the darkness of your house, and you wince as your hands play with the light switches, finally getting one that illuminates the living room and kitchen as you walk inside, looking behind at Eddie as he turns his head to take in the house, looking almost apprehensive to come inside.
“My parents aren’t here if that’s what you’re wondering.” You say as you drop the keys into the bowl on the coffee table, taking off your shoes as you point to him, wanting him to do the same. Even if your parents weren't home you didn't want anything muddy being tracked inside.
“Fridge is over there,” You jut your chin to the fridge as he turns his head as you shed off your jacket, “Help yourself to whatever.”
He grins, his eyes wrinkling around the corners as he gives you a thumbs up. You busy yourself with turning on the other lights, the house coming back alive as you hear him rummaging around until he gives a satisfied noise. You can see him as he takes out a bottle of water, opening it up as he drinks, never stopping until he chugged it all.
It crinkles in his hand as he looks for the trash, throwing it away as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
“You know what, I just remembered. It’s your voice,” You say, scrunching up your nose as you look up, his startled eyes finding yours as you continue, “It ticks me off.”
His brows furrowed together as he swallowed the remaining water, his lips pulling up into a little sneer as he shakes his head in disbelief. You look serious, with the way your arms are crossed, holding your stance like you couldn’t have said anything better to seal the night.
“Yeah?” He nods, pursing his lips together as he shrugs, deciding that there was no better time and place to do this. He thought that after all these years, maybe tonight the two of you could actually grow up a bit and mature, but Eddie knew you would never back down and he was never raised to be a quitter, “You know what ticks me off? It’s your attitude, sweetheart.”
Your eyes twitch a bit, an incredulous laugh falling from your lips as your teeth grind together. He takes a set forward, leaving the kitchen as he comes nearer to the living zoom, his gaze dead set on you as you refuse to back down. You knew you could never act rationally near him, Eddie Munson just brought out a different side to you.
“I despise your rings.” It’s a lie you have to bite out because you love his rings more than anything.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he instinctively goes to fidget with them, turning each one around as he takes another step closer as you confidently (fake confidence, if anything) stand your ground.
“And I loathe that dainty little necklace you wear. Looks like it could snap any fucking second.”
You swallow, your mouth running dry as the lights almost seem to dim, his cologne wafting around you so much so that it almost dries you deliriously, the scent far too much as he inches closer to your body. The seconds tick by faster yet the minutes seem to slow down as you puff out little breaths of air.
Your gaze jumps from his hands, the finger interred in jewelry as they trail back up to his face, his eyes darker than before you can practically feel yourself getting weaker the closer he gets.
“I detest the way you do your hair.” Your ability to get out is pathetic, but how could you when he’s only breathing away from you, everything in your system seemingly about to crash as your blood roars loudly in your ears. You can barely hear your heart pumping, let alone anything else that’s going to fall from his lips.
“I hate that you’re leaving in two months.”
Your heart stops as the usual smile falls from his face. You can’t breathe, can’t think as he steps a little closer, and you knew you only craved for him to only come closer.
You shake your head, eyes darting away from his deep stare as they focus on the wall, taking a long pause and an even longer minute as you look back at him.
“I hate that you’re the only Eddie Munson I’ll ever meet.”
Your words still over the two of you, your chest heaving up and down as you stare each other down, your minds working as one as eyes dart from lips to hands to everything you could possibly think of.
You can hear him let out a deep groan, his eyes shutting for a second, deep in thought. They open back up with clear hunger written all over them as he throws it all away, taking the final step forward as your feet stumble out from beneath you. And you surely would have fallen if not for his hands supporting your back as his lips quickly collide with yours. It’s fast and messily urgent how he moves against you, how sinfully wet it is as he laps up your taste, the unknown sweetness that is solely you as he slots you up against the wall. His free hand cradles your head, careful not to hurt you as he grows restless, craning his neck to the side so that he can kiss you with even more fever.
You can only whimper as his teeth nip at your lips, hips tongue coming out to taste you as you grow to mush in his hold, tilting your jaw up to the side as you search for him again, for the aftertaste of weed and mints that lay on his tongue. He was addictive, more addictive than a drug, and you knew that you would never be the same without this.
“You’re a pain in my ass,” He murmurs against your skin, lapping at your tongue, meshing with your teeth as you whine, “And…” His hand comes up to cradle your chin, moving it the way he wanted as he moves down, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your heated skin as his nose nudges at your jaw, “You drive me crazy whenever I see you. All your talk of how I’m too loud and too cocky,” His brown eyes, still as gentle as they always were as his rings rub against your neck, his eyes boring into yours as his heart thumbs widely against his chest, “But…as nice as it sounds, I don’t think I could ever imagine a single fucking day where you’re not in it.”
You wince, heart throbbing as he sloppily kisses down the column of your neck, his movements longing though covered in a false sense of confidence as he nips, biting little marks all over you, anywhere his lips can reach so that tomorrow you wake up and never forget what he told you the night before.
The dull pain of your head thumping against the wall has nothing in comparison to how all your emotions are bundled into one big mess as you watch Eddie needily tug at your shirt, his hands roaming the expanse of your stomach and hips as he commits your softness to memory.
“I hate you, Eddie,” You falter, your words meaningless but it causes him to stop, his eyes growing with instant worry as he watches your lip tremble, “I hate that you’re so gorgeous I can barely think clearly around you. I hate your perfect smile and how you make me feel when you call me sweetheart, even if you do it to make me mad,” You say as your laugh is short, hurt as you try to find his hands tugging him closer to your chest as you pull him to another kiss, trying to convey a thousand emotions into it as his nose pressed against yours. You can feel his fingers grip at your waist, holding onto you as though you were his only lifeline, “A-and most of all, Eddie…I hate that I can never - never hate you, no matter how hard I fucking try.”
He huffs out a pained laugh, his hands coming up to both sides of your face as his thumbs create two parentheses around the sides of your lips as he kisses you again, his hair ticking your cheeks as you smile weakly at the tingly sensation.
“Don’t say shit like that…” He murmurs, his smile faltering for a second because he can’t believe that this is really happening, you are really here in his arms, telling him the words he had always longed to hear, “Makes guys all sappy ‘n shit.” His voice is thick, almost as though he wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
You bite back the choked sound that comes from your throat, try to control the glossiness of your eyes as you hold onto his arms, helping him as your shirt falls to the ground, the air biting at your skin as he works to unclasp your bra.
“Holy…shit,” He licks at his lips as he stares childishly at your bare chest, his cheeks flushing a dark red as he rubs at the back of his neck, gaping so much that you felt like something was wrong until he muttered, “Prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen.” His fingers trail down your neck and to your breasts, your eyes fluttering shut as he curiously toys with them, flicking your nipple as you grip at his wrists.
“Should have said it sooner, y’know.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, playing with his soft curls as you give him a lopsided grin. He moves his hands away from your chest, no matter how much it pains him to do so, as he rubs at your bare shoulders.
“Said what, sweetheart?” He coos, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips as he moves up, kissing your cheek with such tenderness and care that you almost melt right there. He moves up, kissing your cheekbone, your forehead, until he comes back down to you, his thumb holding your face as carefully as he could.
“That I hated your rings,” You let out a pretty giggle as he sighs, rolling his eyes as he playfully bites at your neck, his hands buying themselves somewhere on your hips as you shrug, “‘S working out pretty well in my opinion.”
“Think I’m actually gonna have to agree with you for once.”
You smile giddily as he works at your jeans, looking up to make sure you were okay with it as you gave him a quick nod, helping him as you looped each leg out. Your demeanor suddenly changes, though, when his fingers delicately loop around the material of your panties, until he suddenly stops.
“What?” You asked, worried as he looked up to you, his lips quivering for a second as he pulled at the hem.
“Lace panties? Oh look,” He flicked his finger over the front, “It even has a little bow.”
You groan, covering your face with your hands as your body heats up in embarrassment, his chuckles barely reaching your ears as he pats your thigh, a silent apology as you lightly smack his shoulder.
“Not like I’m complaining, sweetheart…‘s fucking hot.” He says cheekily, tugging them down as you quietly whine, the cold air hitting your bare pussy. You watch him as he kneels, making a soft thump on the ground as he glances up, his chin hounding at your knees as your hands move to grip his head.
“What’s wrong,” He quips with a teasing smile, noting the way your eyes were shifting as little puffs of air hit your aching cunt, the sensation surely going to drive you insane as his hand moves down to grip your ankle, “Too much f’you?”
He knew he was simply just poking more as you huffed, your hands winding tighter in his hair as you try not to smile stupidly at his words. And he doesn’t need to hear much from you as he gingerly takes a hold, moving your right leg up and onto his shoulder as he moves around a little bit more in his seat, situating his head as he slowly places delicate kisses on the inside of your thighs, each one wetter and longer than the one before as he grumbles something under his breath about how soft you were.
“Damn, Y/n, you’re so fucking messy,” He groans as he notes the wetness dripping down your thighs, “S-shit, fuck, s’wet, so fucking wet….can’t even talk straight when I’m around you,” He mutters into your skin as he grips both of your thighs, the coldness of his rings biting at your heated skin as you pant when his lips get closer to where you want him, “Where d’you want me, sweetheart,” His rests his chin on the meat of your thigh as he looks up at you, just so close to your bare mound yet you can barely talk as his fingers draw little circles onto your ankles, “Come on, use that mouth of yours.”
Your fingers tug at his curls a little tighter, a small warning as you squirm around, uneven breaths leaving your chest as you whine.
“F-fuck, Eds,” You gnaw on your lip as his nose nudges dangerously near your cunt, not aware of how your little nickname for him just goes straight down south, “Just - shit - please just touch me.”
He chuckles lowly, his hands coming up to grip and knead at the flesh of your ass as he kisses wetly near your heat, toying with you with what you wanted as his soft hair rubs against your stomach.
“Where, sweetheart? ‘M not a mind reader.”
You shot him a glare because he was, when it came to the two of you, you both knew each other better than anybody else. It was pathetic, really, how much you said you hated one another when you knew what his favorite color was, but you couldn’t and wouldn’t let your mind wander in a time like this.
“Eddie,” You’re bordering on begging as he raises a brow, still not budging as you groan, taking his head as you directed him upwards, exactly where you wanted him as your cheeks heat madly with embarrassment, twinged with euphoria as he grins knowingly against you, “Here…Eddie, please.”
“Well…” He thumbs at your clit, the sensation causing your head to loll back as it hits the wall, a keen whine escaping your lips as he digs his thumb deeper into the bundle of nerves, your eyes rolling back as he does it, “Because you asked so nicely.”
He dives in, taking little licks at your clit as your moans grow louder with each stroke, feeling your legs wobble as he laps up your taste, groaning at the back of his throat at your saccharine sweetness that coated his tongue. You tasted like fucking heaven, the nights he sent pumping his fist angrily to the thought of you couldn’t have done anything to make up for how you actually felt.
It feels so fucking amazing that you felt like you were going feral, his fingers teasing around your fluttering hole as he rubs your wetness everywhere, wanting to create an even bigger mess. He acts like a man starving as he eats you out, replacing his tongue with his thumb on your clit as he hikes your leg further onto his shoulder, his fingers slowly entering your puckering hole as you let out a quiet squeal when he slowly inches his pointer in, his eyes darkening at the way you sucked him in.
“Shit, sweetheart,” He muttered, his shoulders and entire mood tightening for a second as he feel your clench around him, “Such a pretty pussy, fuck. You-you're so fucking tight…fuck.” He gives you some time to adjust, but his impatience takes over as he begins to pump in and out, the wet noise can only be described as downright sinful as he watches your string of arousal coat his finger.
“E-Eddie!” You can barely talk as he continues to pump faster, adding another one as your body winds up, sucking him in even more as he whines how hot you feel around him, “So good! Fuck, you’re making me feel so good, mm…” Your stomach clenched as his pace grows quicker than before at your words.
“Yeah?” He chuckles but it’s broken as he falters, his eyes squeezing shut for a second as he feels you guide his wrist up and down, his rings bumping against your clit as the sensation only causes you to moan louder, “Y-you like it? God…you’re such a fuckin’ slut, huh? Never would have guessed with all the b-books you hide behind.”
You nod dimly, your lips pressed into a thin line as you awkwardly move around, everything too much as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, everything happening too fast and all at once as he gives a low, guttural growth at how you tasted.
“Fuuck…” He can barely even say that as he eats it all up, knowing he was slowly yet surely growing addicted to you as he spreads you out with the help of his fingers, “Tastes like - likes a fucking t-treat sweetheart.” And he doesn't stop the relentless attack with his thumb as white dots the outer corners of your vision, your body beginning to shut down as Eddie only picks up his pace.
“Eddie! Please…don’t, don’t stop. Feels so fucking good Eds,” You’re a blubbering mess as he heeds your words, your mouth falling into a silent scream as his thumb goes just a little bit faster, his tongue pumping in and out of you with such fervor that you’re just growing wetter and wetter by the second, “Y-yes, yes, yes! Eddie, you feel so good!”
Your hands tighten on his scalp as your legs wobble, and if it weren’t for the wall and his tight support on you you surely would have fallen. You can feel it coming, and you can only keen loudly as you climax, your orgasm washing over you as your toes curl, gushing around his tongue as he quickly laps it all up, hungrily tasting your release as the two of you moan out loudly in tandem.
He slowly removes his hand from your clit, the little nub is swollen as he gingerly pats your knee, removing it from his shoulder as he slowly rises, his lips pink and slightly pouted as his chest heaves up and down with labored breaths, pupils blown wide open as he reflects your stare. You can feel your pussy still fluttering around nothing, your puffy lips aching for more as you tightly grip at his shirt for some leverage.
“That was so fucking hot,” You can see yourself glistening on his chin, the sight too much to believe as he pulls you back into another kiss, your teeth clashing, tongues swirling as he ravages you as best he can, “Don’t know why…why it took us so long to do this.”
You whine a little, the sound muffled by his hungry lips as you taste yourself on him, the tangy sweetness mixed with spit and sweat was so addictive that you pulled him by the collar of his jacket, wanting more of it as he chuckled against your plush skin.
“Don’t know…don’t know why either.” You're able to get out as he moves away, giving you some time to catch your breath as he stares at your wet lips, glistening under the dim light as your hands trace little patterns onto his palm. You tug at his fingers as he traced your features, losing yourselves in the moment as his thumb traces the corners of your jaw, moving up to your cheek and then to the bottom of your lip. The padding of his fingertips was soft, softer than what you expected from somebody who played the guitar day and night, but nonetheless, you craved it more than anything you’ve come to know.
Your hands eagerly roam around his body, tugging at the fabric on his chest, doing a quick job of shedding him of his jacket as you paw at the hem of his shirt, your eyes wide and needy as chokes out a muffled groan when your hands dip under, your nails tracing along his bare skin and happy trail as his stomach clenches under the cold sensation of your fingers.
“Not fair, Eds,” You whine into his neck, licking up at the column as he shudders when you drag your nails up his torso, “I’m only the naked one here. Doesn’t m-make sense.” You whimper when he holds you tightly by the waist, nodding in agreement as bliss fogs his eyes as they gloss over.
“Y-you’re right, I’m a fucking idiot.” He gets out as you help him take his shirt off, his hair bouncing off of his shoulders as you smile against the corner of his lips, your chest pressing against his bare one as he shucks in a breath at the feeling of your nipples rubbing against him.
“Biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
He chuckles, his cheeks and eyes brightening up for a second as a blip of your usual back and forth bleeds even into something like this, wondering why it took him so long to actually do this when he was so clearly enamored by you.
But even that can’t stop your wandering eyes and hands as they tug at his belt, a quiet umph leaving his lips as you play with it.
“You’re such a perv, Eds, getting off on shit like this.” Your words are so sweet, such a far cry from how they were minutes ago as Eddie quickly nods against your lips, helplessly whining as you palm his growing bulge against his jeans. You flick at the zipper, his lips quickly opening as your thumb presses deeper into his aching cock.
“Y-yeah, well,” He tries to hold back another choked moan as you tug at his belt, undoing it in such a swift manner that he almost raises a brow at it, “Can’t exactly be gods strong soldier when you’re in front of me…looking like that.”
“Looking like what, Munson?”
There’s a bite to your voice, but it’s only because you like to coquet, as you always have because you like to see his reaction as his eyes slightly widen, kissing your collarbone as he kneads and rods at your ass, whimpering even more as you unzip his jeans.
“You’re a fucking tease, sweetheart,” He says, his smile wavering as you tug his pants down, lifting his legs as he kicks them off, somewhere to the side as he wraps his hands around your neck, laying with that damn necklace as he shrugs, “I’ll tell you later when you’re not…fuck, about to s-suck me off.”
You pout at his words, seeing the satisfied look on his face at your let-down expression. But you knew that sooner or later that smug smile would be wiped off his face, so duck your head down as you try to busy yourself with the more important matters at hand.
Your thumb finds his tip, easy to find as his precum is staining his boxers, the translucent liquid now on your fingers as you drag your hand up and down, the fabric creating more friction around him as his head falls back onto the wall.
“You’re messy too Eddie,” You tell him softly as your thumb presses deeper into his leaking head, his breathing becoming uneven and choppy as you stop, going down to your knees as you hook your fingers around the elastic as you tug down, his cock slapping you across the cheek as it pops out from its’ tight confines, “Calling me messy when you’re leaking right here.” You mumble to yourself, the sound too innocent and adorable for the situation you were in as Eddie finds his hands unconsciously going to the back of your head, just as you had done with him as he tries to give you some time to get used to him.
He almost cums on the spot when your nails trace up and down his cock, memorizing all his veins and crooks to heart as you delicately wrap your hands around him, your eyes widening at the sheer size of him as you dryly swallow.
“Too big?” He asks, trying to be cheeky, to lighten the mood, but you can only dimly nod, your hand slowly coming up and down from his base to the tip, cupping his balls as you whine at his precum trickling onto your body.
“You’re - you’re too cocky for your own good.” You respond weakly, not intending the lame pun as you lean your head forehead, slow as you take a tentative lick at his bulbous tip, moaning as his salty taste floods your senses. He stops breathing for a second as he feels your hot tongue benign to quicken its pace, licking more and more as his hand grows weaker at the back of your head.
Slowly you being to envelop your mouth over him, suctioning as you hollow out your cheeks, taking him in little by little, your hands making up for whatever you can’t fit into your mouth as you pump back and forth, your throat gagging a bit as he hits the back, but you continue because more than anything you love the burn and the loud moans he’s letting out as you suck him off.
“Mph, god, fuuck…” He’s controlling your head, bobbing you up and down on his dick as your spit mixes with his pre, rubbing off on your chin and cheeks as he tries to wring his eyes open to stare at you, to see your wide eyes staring back at him as you take him whole, “So fucking good, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good. Can’t - fuck - can’t believe you’re such a good fucking girl. N-not, mfph,” He chokes as your tongue swirls around, his tip getting angrier and redder as you don’t let up, “Not when you acted like such a fucking pain this entire time. But you’re just a slut, huh?” He shudders, his chest moving up and down as your hands move down, one on his cock and one massaging his balls as he practically just dies, “You’re a slut f’me, yeah?”
And you can only nod, tears escaping your eyes as they mix with everything else on your cheeks, your cries and whines causing blissful vibrations around his throbbing cock as he moans out louder.
“O-oh, shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so fucking good….shit, Y/n, you’re so fucking good - god I fuckin’ love this.” His hands make you go faster, choking you more on his dick as your nose rubs against the little curls at his base, your gags only going straight to his head as it spurs him on even more.
“Holy shit, sweetheart, y-yeah, hmm, fuck just like that,” He’s becoming a stuttering mess only able to get out more, more, more, as he begs for you to go faster, his thumb wiping away at your tears as he whines, keening loudly as he feels his release quickly about to come, “Y-yes, fuck! Shit, you’re doing amazing. God, I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart…is it okay if I - fuck - if I cum? Please, fuck, y-you okay with that?”
And you're bobbing your head, trying to nod as you sniffle, your humming as you try to say yes, but it only sends him over the edge, hot, white spurts of his cum trickle down your throat, thick as you gag, pulling off of him as little bits fall onto your chest, splattering over your collarbone and tits as he tries to catch his breath.
You swallow anything remaining on your tongue, showing it to him as he groans again, patting your cheek as he loops his arms around yours, helping you stand up as you wince a little bit at the biting sting at your knees.
“Fuck, Y/n, are you,” His eyes roam your face, gently cradling your jaw as if he hadn’t fucked your throat seconds ago, “You okay sweetheart?”
You smile, nodding as you press a small kiss to his lips, your spit, his cum, and your tears mixing with one as he groans at the taste, whining as you pull away.
“M’fine, Munson.” You kiss the tip of his nose as he lets out a sigh of relief, his hands running up and down your back comfortingly as he lets his breathing get back to normal before hooking one of your legs around his waist.
The two of you don’t care about much as you follow his movements, letting him turn around so that you resting against the wall, your heart pounding wildly in your head as he kisses wetly against your neck, stroking his dick as he kneads at your breasts, acting like he was going crazy as he brought his lips back u to yours.
“Sweetheart, think I’m about to go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” His thumb follows the bone of your brows, settling on your cheeks as you stare u into those big, brown eyes of his, the ones that made you fall for him the moment you saw them as he kisses your jaw, “P-please let me - let me fuck you…?”
You don’t know how he can ask when you’d go crazy too if he didn’t.
“Please, Eddie,” You shudder out a shaky breath as his thumb falls lower and lower, inching closer to your swollen clit, “Please…w-want it more than anything.”
And so he takes the initiative, linen himself up with your dripping cunt, hoping that he stretched you out enough as he teases your entrance with his tip, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he feels you sucking him in, moaning at how wet you felt around him, your pussy clenching as he carefully and slowly pushing a little bit more in.
“Oh, fuck,” He can barely speak as you wrap your leg around him tighter, allowing him to reach deeper into you as his veins drag up your bare cunt, the sensation maddening as you whine at the feeling, “S’good, so fucking good…damn, you’re fucking amazing Y/n.” And you don’t know if it’s the way his voice grows tender at the way he speaks your name or if it’s everything in the atmosphere combined, but a part of you grows warmer with the way he gently tries to situate himself inside of you, not wanting to hurt you as he stops. He gives you time to adjust to his size, noting the little tears that lined your eyes as you clench your teeth at how big he was inside of you.
“You’re so big Eddie, so… b-big.” You cry at the sting, wanting more as he limply nods, muttering out apologies as he rubs your clit, his motions quickening in pace as he openly kisses you on the mouth, the kiss needy as the two of you reach for each other.
“I know, I know sweetheart, but…” He pulls out a little bit, his cock dragging against you again as your walls flutter against them, “I’ll go slow, okay? You tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” You can only nod, maintaining eye contact as he gives you one last kiss, pulling out completely before he pushes himself in with one go, a loud cry escaping your lips as your jaw slacks.
“E-Eddie!” You scream, your nails digging into his back as he picks up his pace by just a little, biting into your shoulder so that he can muffle his own moans, “You feel so good…fuck!” You can barely think straight as he fucks you dumb on his cock, your wetness coating his dick in a sheer slick, a white rim collecting around his base as he stares hungrily at your essence.
“You feel amazing, …don’t think I’m ever gonna be the same, fuck, without you.”
You can only nod with him because you know that his words ring true for you, too.
He tugs at your chin, tilting your head up as he motions for you to open your mouth with his free thumb. When you follow his instruction he brings himself closer, letting a wad of spit fall from his lips and onto your tongue as he taps your jaw again, silently asking you to close it as you whine at his taste. It’s so much, everything happening all around you, that you don’t even question yourself as you swallow, watching as Eddie bites little marks all over you as if you weren’t already his.
“Ahh, look at me, fuck, Y/n, p-please,” He begs to cup your jaw as you will yourself to look u, your swollen lips shining with sweat as your eyes almost dro from the feeling of his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of squelching and wetness of the two of you so loud that you almost didn’t hear him when he mutters; “So fucking pretty, don’t think…don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go.”
You whine, your hands wrapping tightly around his neck as you grind yourself down on him, joining his fingers on your clit as you swirl around, your head lolling to the side at the extra sensation.
“L-love it, Eds, you feel so fucking good!”
He stops, his heart churning as he kisses your neck, your body shining in the light with a layer of sweat coating you, the image graining itself into his head as he moves your hips up and down on himself.
“Sweetheart,” He bites down onto your shoulder, “Gonna be honest with you, yeah? I don’t think I ever actually hated you. F-fucking hell, looked forward to seeing you every day. ‘S why I always turned my music up, knew you…fuck, knew you hated it...just wanted to hear your voice,” You can slowly feel your release coming, your toes curling, back arching into him as your chest presses tightly against his, “Never hated you because…shit, think - think I’ve been in love with you this entire time.”
Your eyes widen, your arms growing tighter around his neck as he winces, wishing he never let his emotions get the best of him, especially now. But as he’s about to apologize, to blame it on the hormones, you press your cheek to his chest, never letting go of his waist as you can hear the faint thumping of his heart against your skin. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, and it’s Eddie.
“Damn you, Munson,” Your able to croak out, not even able to muster up a smile as a moan falls from your lips, “You always gotta b-beat me to it everything…fuck!” You trail off, your mouth falling open to a silent scream as your fingers stop attacking your bundle of nerves, everything crashing over you as your legs shake, screaming out his name as you come undone, gushing all around him as you slump against his body.
Eddie can’t say anything as he follows after you, the feeling of you clenching down on him enough to throw him over, forgetting everything as he comes inside, his hot cum painting your fluttering walls white as he groans into your neck, biting down on it to stop himself from saying anything more stupid.
You pant, your hot breath hitting his chest as you slowly peel yourself off on him, your mind running faster than ever before as you quickly try to regain your senses, anything that could possibly explain to you what just happened.
He’s quiet as he ducks his head down, avoiding your gaze as he quickly mutters out hurried apologies, searching the floor for your clothing as he piles them all up, his cheeks flushed a dark red as he tries to hide, not wanting to ruin anything else before it’s too late. He stops at your panties, pressing his lips to a thin line as he rubs at his eyes, massaging his forehead as you awkwardly tilt from foot to foot.
“I, um, I didn’t hate it, you know…”
He whips his head around, blushing again as he comes into view with your naked self as he averts his gaze, handing you your clothes back as you offer him a small smile at his obvious confusion.
“Your music, I didn’t hate it. I think Ozzy’s great ‘n all. Ultimate Sin’s my favorite yet…well, except for Blizzard of Ozz, but you woke me up enough to not go to school like a zombie. So thanks…for that.”
He huffs out a laugh of disbelief, his nervousness melting away in a split second almost as if he can’t believe his ears. You don’t act like it’s much though as if you hadn’t calmed his racing nerves with a single statement as you tug your shorts back on, his cum seeping through the delicate material as he almost goes feral at the sight of you keeping himself inside of you. He watches as you opt to forget your bra as you pull your shirt over your shoulder, looking more gorgeous than ever before in the afterglow of being fucked.
“You know Ozzy?”
Your head pops up, your lips pulled into a cute frown as your brows furrow together at his question.
“Of course I know Ozzy. Went to his concert a couple of years ago.” You rub at your nose, heating up as you feel some of his cum still on your cheek.
Eddie rushes over, giving you another apology as he fishes out his shirt, wiping your face clean, not missing the bubbly smile you give him as he looks down. It’s a tender moment, a far cry from your heated ones that would ever lead to such a scenario. But you guess that there was a fine line between love and hate and you guess the two of you had just strolled right past it.
“What?” He asks, stopping for a second. You nudge at his palm with your cheek, wanting him to continue as you go to fix his hair for him, detangling some of it with your fingers as you move it out of his face, beaming when you can see his eyes once again.
“I don’t hate you either, Munson…” You grip at his wrist, pressing a delicate kiss to the inside of it as he almost melts, “Kinda like you too.”
His face falls for a second, wondering if this was your sort of cruel rejection as you giggled at his obvious reaction, pulling him in by the chain of his necklace as you run your hands freely through his hair.
“But I think I’d be able to love you if you do something for me.”
The shirt drops from his hands as he comes up to hold your face, a hopeful smile on his face as he nods, playful nudging at your nose with his as you laugh at the feeling of his hair tickling the skin of your neck.
“Anything sweetheart, name it and I’ll do it.”
And even if you asked him to balance the world on his shoulder he’d attempt to. If you told him to buzz off all his hair he’d do it, just for you. He’d get your name tattooed wherever you wanted. He’d stop smoking if you wanted, though he knew it’d take time and a lot of patience, he’d do it, he’d do anything if you asked him to.
But you smile, your hands scrawled out on his bare chest as you cheekily grin.
“I want you to take me out on a date. It’s our last summer together Munson, and I don’t think it’s very gentleman-y of you to fuck a girl and not take her out on a date, hm?”
He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he kisses your lips, the gesture gentle and sweet as he holds you like you’re the universe, the stars that light up galaxies to come because you are, you’re the light of his life and the thing that keeps him wondering if soulmates really do exist.
“You’re right sweetheart,” He pulls at your necklace, a little bit surprised that it didn’t break as he cocked his head to the side, “So…where do you want to go?”
You squeak, eyes widening in surprise at how willing he was as you shrugged, glancing at the door as you asked, “Now?”
He nodded, pulling on his boxers and pants as he looked at you from over his shoulder.
“Well… like you said, it’s our last summer. What do you want, ice cream or bowling?”
You grin shyly, shrugging your shoulder as you hold up his shirt to him as he kisses your forehead in appreciation.
“Eddie,” You murmur, “I literally have your cum leaking out of me…I can barely stand and...” You trial off, knowing that it wasn’t much of an excuse for him as he gives you a playful grin. He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin, wanting to savor this moment forever because he never truly thought it happen.
tags: 18+ graphic smut, rough sex, cabin sex, unprotected piv, dirty talk, smoking, swearing, friends to lovers, fluff and humor, crush confessions, 7.7k word count im sorry
summary: one last year. one last hurrah. hawkins high’s yearly senior camping trip is full of sentiment, and full of surprises. eddie definitely did not expect a night of confessions with his best friend, and definitely did not expect to end up naked with her.
a/n: title references bad idea by girl in red!!! happy reading <3
“One more night in these backwoods smelly dump and I can’t believe we will finally, finally be free.”
You sigh out to the sky as Eddie skips a pebble across the steady waters of the giant lake, moonlight reflecting onto the splashing puddles as the little rock sinks into darkness. It’s been a calm night, save for the distant choral hymns of your classmates by the main campfire, singing Kumbaya and Stevie Nicks as their spiked punch starts to sink in.
It’s only ten-thirty. And you’re thoroughly bored out of your mind.
“I can taste the sweet victory of graduation. Right there on the tip of my tongue, it’s just… mmm! Fuck, yeah!” Eddie throws a dramatic fist to the smattering of stars on the horizon, smacking his lips together before his face falls flat. “Actually, you know what? Nevermind, it’s weed. I think I taste weed.”
You can’t help but laugh at his expression, ignoring how your whole body heats up as Eddie’s fingers brush against your palm whilst handing you a mossy rock. You don’t notice his side-eye, the boyish lingering of admiration on your best friend’s lips as you pass him and your ass accidentally rubs past his crotch.
“You’re such a knobhead, dude.”
He snorts, placing his hands on his hips and hopes that you don’t notice how he has to quickly adjust his pants.
“Only you would say knobhead, Y/N. What are we? Twelve and British?”
“I’m bored, okay? And bored makes me say boring things.” You whine, kicking up a cloud of dust as you approach the start of the little wooden pier. “Are you sure you don’t wanna head back to camp? This is starting to feel like the beginning of a slasher movie.”
“If that’s the case, that makes me the final girl.” Eddie teases, flipping his dark hair over his shoulder teasingly before giving your hip a nudge. “C’mon, spend some time with the resident freak. I promise it’ll be worth your while if we do end up like Sleepaway Camp.”
You poke his side, quickly digging your hand into the front pocket of his jacket for a free joint. “Please, I spend enough time with you as it is. Too much, really. Murder me in my sleep already and put me out of my misery.”
“Ow, Y/N. My broken heart can only take so much!” He clasps a heavy hand over his sternum, backpedaling theatrically until he collapses onto the grass. You cross your arms over your front, masking the smile that threatens to spread across your face as you lock eyes. Eddie appears paler and much younger in the blue moonlight, the shadows of his blissful face outlined by a dusk of sparse constellations as he studies you from afar — hell, he himself isn’t even trying to hide his toothy grin as he leans back on his palms. “You love me.”
You shake your head and push down the giddy, embarrassing swell of butterflies in your stomach.
Can’t have a crush on your best friend. Certainly can’t. Can’t have yourself thinking about him in any other way when he looks at you like that. Can’t give into that fantasy at the back of your head — that familiar, naive what-if-we-happened or that dirty curiosity of what was underneath that classic Hellfire shirt.
Fuck, but hear this out: years of friendship that’s always felt a little bit more than platonic must mean something, right?
Whatever. Play the tough card, it always works. “You make me sick.” You joke, moving to sit beside him in the grassy meadow.
His jean-clad thigh instantly presses against yours, his scent filling your nose and swirling around your head as his breath fans over the side of your cheek when he peers over at you. “Lovesick? Yeah, I know. I’m absolutely irresistible. Here, let me light that for you.” He nods at the blunt between your middle and forefinger, gentle eyes flickering up at your face.
“Is this your way of apologizing?” You quip, brows furrowing as Eddie cups a hand around your joint and flicks his lighter against the end. His breath fans over your cheek, and for a minute, you swear you could feel the ghost of his lips on your skin. Not that you’ve felt it before, but… he’s so close, and just there that you can’t help yourself.
You take in his look of concentration, mirroring his near-scowl when you both reluctantly decide to pull away from your close proximity.
Almost like you wanted to remain that close to him.
Eddie sighs off the thought and shrugs casually, following how your lips purse together around the roll. He’s trying not to let his mind roll off into the gutter, but at this point, his head is deep within the sewers of Hawkins.
Lips. Tongue. Saliva. That enticing patch of your spit transferred onto the joint that he made.
Fucking pervert.
“It’s my way of saying you look good tonight. Hot, if I may say. Nature does wonders on you, sweetheart. You know I don’t give out my ‘products’ to just anyone. Gotta give my brand a pretty face, y’know? Advertisement means everything.”
Now this… this is what you mean by a ‘little bit more than platonic.’ The endless flirting, the compliments that he so blatantly throws your way like a bone to a dog, as if you weren’t just friends and every word he said didn’t have some sort of suggestive tinge to it.
Do you flirt back? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve never necessarily been the shy type around him, especially when his personality is a direct reflection of yours. The question is, has he caught up to it? Has he caught up to your version of flirting? First of all, does he even know it’s flirting? Surely, he should, right?
Especially when he has the fucking audacity to flirt back?
Eddie likes being bold. In fact, he’s never known how to shut up, especially when it comes to you. Oftentimes, he’s dumbfounded. Dumbfounded because he gets to look at you being gorgeous all day and you’re his best friend, but also because you’re his best friend, he isn’t sure if he’s even allowed to look at you like that.
Years ago, the flirting meant nothing. To him, it was just Eddie Munson being Eddie Munson.
But you know that thing in the movies where the stupid and pathetic nerd has this sudden, objectifying epiphany of how smoking hot his girl bestfriend has always been? And then he absolutely can’t see her the same way — of course, she’s still a person, still his friend, but he can’t deny that at the back of his mind, he also kind of wants to fuck her in a totally, non-creepy, pervy way?
Yeah, that definitely happened to him.
The real twist, though, is that not only does Eddie want to have sex with you… he’s certainly, certainly harboring feelings that resemble that of a teen rom-com. He’s living up to every film stereotype possible, and he isn’t sure how long he can hide such thoughts from you when you know him so well.
And when you have the tendency to look appetizing at every damn hour of the day.
He thinks about you too much for his own good. It’s not healthy, if he’s being completely honest. Daydreaming about the most taboo things like your smaller fingers and hands, how he wonders how they’d feel against the tattoos on his thighs, the resting pout of your lips and how he sometimes wants to kiss that cheesy grin off your face to teach you a lesson, the way your clothes always seem to hug your body in the right places, and how his clothes look on you whenever you’d sleep over.
He’s being tame. He has to, especially when you’re right beside him and he can quite literally feel the warmth radiating from your body. The more he thinks about you, the filthier his thoughts start to get.
Great going thinkin’ about fucking your best friend.
You huff out a cloud of smoke, leaning back on your forearms as Eddie’s brows twitch at the image of your nipples poking through your bra and thin t-shirt.
“Mmm, good to know I have an effect on the dealer.” You smirk widely, chuckling through your blunt as he forces himself out of his trance. “And good to know you still have an issue with staring after all this time, prick.”
“Like I said, you look good.” Eddie childishly kicks at your ankle with his boot, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.
You hold his gaze, and for a moment, he watches the shift in your pupils. Dilated. Wide-eyed. All signs that point to the idea that maybe you did regard him in the same way. But he won’t take that chance just yet. He’s too scared, too worried that he’s been mistaking your looks for something else.
But all at once, that flicker of vulnerability in your stare disappears, replaced by your snarky expression and your tough-love act that’s always kept Eddie on his toes.
You’re first to break eye contact. He feels his heart sink.
“Shut up. Get laid or something.”
He instantly blows a raspberry and a soft puh! at you from the sudden remark. He glances off to the side, averting his pupils from you as you tap the blunt against your jeans and get up. “Laid? Here? And who exactly would I get laid with?” Eddie throws a lazy thumb over his shoulder pointing back at the campfire before he’s following you around like a lost puppy. “Not many options around, Y/N. I’d very much rather go fuck myself, thank you.”
“Psh, plenty of people to fuck. You got the whole class back there. It’s the senior trip.” You wave your hand around, blunt between your fingers as you both step onto the trail leading back to the cabins. “Probably at least someone.”
“I don’t know if you’ve been living under a rock for the past — jeez, couple of years? But nobody is looking to fuck the educationally challenged freak.” He chuckles, making light of a long-standing joke amongst your peers. “It’s as if God said, ‘Damn you, Munson. You aren’t getting a diploma or mind-blowing sex that’ll live in your head till you look like a Sphynx cat in a retirement home.’”
You’re not looking at him. In fact, you’re too occupied with the way your foot kicks out in front of the other as if it’s suddenly the most interesting thing to look at.
Just get it over with and tell me what it is you’re trying to say, he thinks.
“Okay, who would you fuck?” He starts nonchalantly, biting back his smirk when he sees your mouth twitch and your eyes ever-so-slightly widen at the ground. “Come on, sourpuss. Answer the questionnn.” He drags on, wiggling his fingers at you teasingly.
“I-I… well, I mean…” Damn it. You really fucked yourself over with this one. Look anywhere but him. Look anywhere but his pale neck and his puppy-like eyes, or his tattoos and the way black denim strains against his thighs like a second skin as he walks. “No one. I would… I… really, I wouldn’t fuck anyone.”
“Lie! What a fucking cop-out answer, loser.”
“What? I’m serious!” You laugh as Eddie raises a hand at you. “I don’t have anyone!”
“You can’t just casually bring up ‘fucking’ without thinking of someone you want to fuck.”
You shrug, letting out a noise of uncertainty. “Because I know you, and because everyone knows I know you, no one wants to fuck me. By proxy, I have no options either. Simple.”
Eddie snatches the blunt from your hand in one swift motion, creases appearing on his face as he deadpans to you and puts it between his lips. “So you’re saying if there was someone who wanted to fuck you… you’d fuck them?”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a slut?” You joke, turning into the clearing filled with your cabins.
Smoke clouds around him as he speaks. “I’m insinuating you’re a… a gorgeous, strong woman who — who definitely is easy on the eyes…”
“Right, right.” Your lip curls up into a grin, voice dripping with amusement as you stop in your tracks and pry at your best friend. “Eddie, are you insinuating that there’s someone who wants to fuck me?” His jaw hangs open, incoherent syllables falling from his tongue as you slap your hands on either side of his face and force him to look at you. “Is there someone who wants to fuck me? Oh, my god. Let me guess…”
“Y/N…”
“Is it Steve Harrington?” You tease, taking pleasure in how Eddie’s perfect jaw clenches at the jab. “Oh, I’ve kinda always wanted to mess around with him… me, the perfect best friend and a preppy ex-jock babysitter? Sounds straight out of a porno.”
“You think you’re so funny.” His dark eyes bore into your giddy face, mouth downturned into a subtle frown as you giggle and gawk at him like an excited teenager while he tosses out your blunt.
“I do… and I think you’re hiding something. Are you withholding very important, vital information that could possibly alter the course of my super dry sex life?”
“Maybe I’m just looking out for your dignity. Not your virginity, we both know where that shit went. Can’t believe you fucked some random drug dealer.”
You pout, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “So, you don’t want your best friend getting laid?”
“I don’t think my best friend should be getting laid with just anyone, Y/N.”
The gentle swirl of your fingertips against his cheek lulls him to a bewitched trance, especially under the influence of the trail lights casting shadows over your doting expression.
You slowly nod your head, prodding your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you turn and walk away again. Eddie feels his heart wrench at the thought of you leaving this conversation here, not when your cabin is just out of reach, just within view. You’re only so many steps away from him, what if he just grabbed your hand and asked you to drop all of this?
Ozzy, please don’t let this get awkward.
“Well… who exactly should I be getting laid with, then?”
He throws his arm up. “I… pfft, I don’t — ha, I don’t fuckin’ know, man.”
“So, say I wanted to fuck Harrington, I could totally get in his pants and you’d be okay with it?”
“Don’t fucking say that, come on.” Eddie’s face scrunches up into one of disgust, creases and indents deep on his ghastly cheeks. “Christ, Y/N. I don’t even wanna imagine it.”
“Oh, my god. Are you — are you jealous right now?”
You’re really laying it on him, aren’t you? There’s that damned smile on your face, that entertained smirk and misleading dimples that makes you seem more innocent than you let on. “I am not jealous. I am absolutely fan-fucking-tastic right now!”
“It’s okay to be jealous, you know. It’s a natu—“
“Okay, you know what? I don’t want you to fuck Harrington. I don’t want you to fuck — to fuck…”
You quirk a curious brow and happily spin on your heel before you’re leaning up against the railing of the steps leading up to your tiny cabin, taking note of the frown on Eddie’s lips.
“Anyone?”
“Yes, anyone!” He gestures wildly, voice climbing multiple octaves at once.
“Who would I fuck then?”
“I…” He stammers, eyeballs near-bulging out of his head as your hand darts for the knob and twists. You stand by the wooden doorway, one foot outside on the porch and one halfway inside as you wait for Eddie to recollect himself. “I don’t know… I don’t! I’m serious!”
“I’m closing this door, Munson. Nighty night.”
He scrunches up his nose, sticking his ankle out before you can shut him outside. “W-Where are you going?” You don’t answer, pushing at his shoulder so he stumbles and has no choice but to watch you lock the door on him. He knocks— once, twice, he knows you hear him. Eddie’s voice falls to a hushed shout-whisper, “Y/N! What the hell are you doing?”
“Not opening it until you tell me who I should be fucking. Choose your words carefully, smartass.” You lean up against the door, unbeknownst that Eddie is quite literally doing the same. “If you don’t tell me, I’m so not talking to you on the bus ride home.”
“Are we in — uh, I don’t know — third fucking grade right now?” He questions you mockingly, scowling as he raps his fist against the wood. “Y/N, my dearest queen of Hellfire. Open this door, or I will open it myself. Gently, of course.”
“If I can’t fuck anyone else, who should I be fucking?”
Eddie bumps his head against the rough surface, opening and closing his eyes as he tightly purses his lips together in frustration. Fucking hell, why did he let this conversation even happen? Was it that important to you?
You’re his best friend. He could tell you everything, right?
“Ten seconds, Munson.”
Do best friends tell each other they want to have sex with each other? He doesn’t fucking know.
He sighs, puffing out his cheeks before his whiny voice fills the playfully tense air. “I mean… you could… hell, you could always just fuck — ugh, fuck me?”
Silence. Crickets. Crows. The laughter of your classmates in the distance. Maybe he did wish this was a slasher film, because if it was, he’d realistically already be dead by now, spared from this sick case of purgatory.
Eddie visibly winces as soon as the words leave him. “You know what, Y/N, forget I said anything. Must be the weed.”
Barely even managing to turn away, the door clicks open before he’s able to make out your face in the little crack.
You pull it open even further. You can’t believe him. You just can’t. Because if it’s actually a joke, it’s not funny. And if it’s serious, then it must be a joke.
His eyes are just as wide — if not wider, like a baby deer — than yours, almost as if he hadn’t even spoken it himself in the first place. You swallow the nerves down.
“Bad weed, huh?”
Eddie scoffs nervously. “The worst.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
He’s shifting from one foot to the other, heavy boots creaking against the weathered planks of the porch as you stare each other down. He tilts his head, shrugging while he wipes his palms against his jeans and you take a step out. “Must be — must be mine, since it’s… my, uh, my weed.”
“Eddie…” His gaze frantically darts everywhere. You’re basically toe to toe. “Stop talking.”
Breaths intermingling. Scents entangling. Hearts stuttering, especially Eddie’s when your hands ball into fists against the lapels of his leather jacket. He follows the motion, the flexing of your soft knuckles, the uncertainty on your features as you hold his stare.
This is a bad idea.
But fuck it. Fuck everything.
Eddie places a careful palm on the small of your back, pressing you abruptly to his chest until your noses are impatiently nudging against each other. He eagerly ghosts over your mouth, pulling back just to reel himself in again. Then your lips are meeting his own through a meek, shy kiss. It’s almost comical how your whole body caves into him once he slips his hand under your jaw, his warm palm splaying over your cheek while his fingers stretch slowly across your skin.
It’s awkward, with his knee pressing against your crotch, with your clammy hands clutching onto him for dear life as he groans for you to open your mouth more. You’re melting and you can’t even stop it. Soon, your fingers are ruthlessly carding through his thick hair, getting caught in dark tangles and tugging at his curls as he kisses you even deeper. With tongue.
Then it all finally hits.
Your best friend is french-kissing you on the porch of a girls-only cabin during your senior camping trip.
It’s as if it’s become second nature, like Eddie Munson has always known how to do this with you.
And before anyone can spot either of you, you’re pulling him by the hips back into your room. The space is tiny, nearly impossible to navigate with the camp’s fickle attempt of trying to fit two bunk beds in one miniscule box. Part of you wishes it was smaller. Anything to be closer to Eddie, as if he didn’t have his mouth on yours already. It’s not close enough.
You’re stumbling over suitcases, open luggage, astray pairs of shoes on the floor, but all you can focus on is how his huge palms are gripping your waist, how you’re nearly grinding up on each other as he pins your back against one of the bunk ladders, the way Eddie pants for air after realizing that he needs to pulls away.
His jacket is barely even on his shoulders anymore, his pick necklace lopsided, Hellfire shirt absurdly wrinkled and jeans so low on his waist that you can see the waistband of his boxers.
“Hi.” You nervously smile up at him, noses just centimeters away from each other. His finger swipes just beneath your eye, holding your shy gaze under the moonlight seeping through the window.
“Hi.” Eddie mumbles with twitchy lips.
“What you said…” You wince at the anxious tone of your voice and clear your throat, “This is… totally not… weird or anything, right?”
Seriously cannot like your best friend. Can’t hook up with your best friend. Can’t think about your best friend like that when he’s staring into your eyes right now. But he’s offering. Eddie is here, and he’s offering — fuck, what is he offering?
“No… I-I don’t think so?” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “I’m sorry — you’re just… I… our conversation was… it was tense, right? Like really tense, the — the, you know, the tension. I had to do something, had to just… fuckin’ come clean, Y/N.”
“I felt it, Eds.”
“Yeah?” You nod at him, leaning up on your tippy-toes to nudge at his mouth with yours. “You… you did? Good, ‘cause I, uh… huh, I knew it couldn’t have just been… y’know, one sided and… s-shit.”
His breath stutters between his lips, before you’re suddenly slipping out from under him and towards the door. Come back, he wants to say. Why are you standing so far away now? Did he do something wrong? But you’re flicking the lock shut from the inside and leaning against the surface, breasts rising and falling with each deep exhale you take while you lock stares with Eddie once more.
Then you’re barrelling back to him, hot on your heels, crashing your mouth onto his like you haven’t gotten enough of him. Which you haven’t. Not nearly enough.
Eddie topples onto the bed as soon as you straddle him, hands finding the curve of your ass immediately. You can feel him growing with arousal, moans slipping from his throat as you rid yourself of your red cardigan and your tight little shirt.
“Fuck, we’re really doing this?” He groans into your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as soon as he catches sight of your lacy bra. “Oh, C-Christ… Y/N, you’re gonna be the death of me, man…” Eddie hisses, holding you tighter as you lick a stripe up the delicate vein on his pink-tinted neck. “You’re s-so hot, my fucking god. Kill me. Oh, kill me. M’gonna go insane.”
“Over neck kisses?” You giggle, brushing his hair back with admiration. “Hm, how are you ever going to survive me, Munson?”
“Think I’ve been doing a pretty damn good job so far.”
“Psh, barely.”
He chuckles agreeably, licking his lips. “Barely.” His eyes are glazed-over, sharing a look with you that almost makes you crumble into pieces. Like a switch having flipped, his hands find the bottom of his Hellfire shirt, pulling it up and over his crazy head of hair.
You could fucking drool. His pale chest painted with the lightest shade of a blushing pink, complemented by the dark ink of his scattered tattoos. “You’re so pretty.” You gasp out, trailing your fingers over his collarbones, stroking the guitar pick on his necklace.
“And you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.”
“Can I…” You swallow. Now is not the time to be shy. Not when he’s squeezing the backs of your thighs, not when he’s blinking up at you like he absolutely adores you, not when he’s pressing his lips to the strap of your bra and rocking you against his lap. “Can I — fucking hell, this should not be this hard — can I suck you off?”
“You want to…?”
“I mean, whatever you want!”
“You’re asking?“ You nod confidently, playing with his shaggy bangs before he loosens his grip on you. “Oh, f-fuck, that’s just… just so cute. Fuckin’ a-asking to suck my dick. Yes, a million times. Yes. You’re perfect. God, I really… Y/N, you gotta go easy on me.”
You roll off of him and lay yourself over his lap, unbuckling his heavy belt and unzipping his jeans with a knowing smirk as soon as you see his helpless cock straining pathetically against his checkered boxers. “This is easy, Eddie.”
“Go easier then, tiger.” He leans back on his palms, thighs parting with a long moan as you reach into the fabric and pull him out. “Fuckkk, a l-lot easier than that.”
And my god, he’s perfect. His dick is long and curved, so rock-hard that it springs out gently into your waiting palm. Two identical veins trail up the sides of his base, leading to the drippy, thick head of his swollen tip. Eddie moans as you mewl at him, cooing at the lewd sight of his pre-cum coating your fist.
“S’nice to look at. So nice. Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hm?”
You pump him, lightly twisting your hand around his length. “O-Oh, that feels good. That feels really good, Y/N. Mmm… mmm, s-shit… b-baby… s’fucking — your hand…” He’s squirming beneath your touch, his head thrown back and reddened throat outstretched as you jerk him off slowly.
“Yeah? Tell me more. I love when you’re talkative.”
“Oh, god… s’too… fuck…” Eddie whimpers, arm darting out to clasp onto the nape of your neck, fingers wrapping around the muscle. “Thinking ’bout your mouth, sweet girl. S’just gonna be so warm for me, ain’t it? P-Please, please… you’re s-so good.”
“Want my throat? Wanna feel me gag around you? Is that what you want? So filthy, Eddie. Treatin’ your best friend like some whore…” You glance up at him, taking in the way his abdomen ripples at the sight of your big eyes and your glossy lips. A chuckle leaves you, then you’re gently suckling on the tip of him, “It’s a good thing that I am.”
Eddie nearly cums right then and there. Usually, he’s good about blowjobs. Really good. He can last for ages, a result of all the edging he’s done in his alone time. But something about how you hold his gaze, even as you sink your lips down onto him, cock protruding against your cheek as you try your best not to choke, the audacity of humming around his dick like this felt good for you just as it did for him. It’s fucking hot. Your throat is already constricting and he’s so goddamn hard, and fuck, it’s not even funny how he’s already begging for release.
Was it so bad if he wanted to cum on his best friend’s face?
“Y/N… Y/N, oh…” Eddie chokes on a moan, spit sputtering from his mouth as he slurs between gritted teeth. “Words are so… they are so impossibly difficult right now, holy shit. I-I can’t… think… jus’ melting…”
His voice. You groan shamelessly around him, lashes fluttering in bliss as he strokes your head and shamelessly guides you. You can feel him pulsing inside, his cock twitching as he coughs out a shuddering sigh of pleasure.
“Look at you, sweet girl. S’drunk on my cock, that right? So pretty, so hot when you’re stuffed full of me. Can’t even open y-your eyes… mhm, that’s i-it…” Eddie can barely let out an exhale before he’s cut off by his own perverted moans, almost beastly, desperate and pained. He’s too focused on the filthy noises coming from your mouth and his cock, the puddle of saliva and pre-cum on his soiled boxers as your head bobs up and down. Everything is so wet. Dripping. Erotic. Too real, too consuming. “I can’t. I can’t. G-Gonna… fucking hell, gonna cum. S’too good, I’m sorry… I can’t. I can’t. I can’t h-hold it anymore, Y/N.”
Eddie’s grip on your neck tightens, keeping your head in place as his hips buck into your mouth.
You whine as he abruptly pulls out, only for him to jerk himself off over your tongue, “Aw, you don’t wanna cum in my throat, Eds?”
“Heck. Heck. Christ, fuck, save it for next time.”
He’s adorable like this.
“Next time? Bold of you to assume we’re doing this again.” You lick at his tip, smiling shyly as strings of cum start to spurt out across your cheek. “That’s it. Oh, you’re such a perv, cumming on your best friend like this. Bet you’ve always thought about me covered in your cum, hm?”
“Fucking s-shut up, Y/N. C-Christ, I can’t stop cumming. You’re just… just so hot, had to… had to see. Such a whore, such a fuckin’ whore for me, sweetheart. Makin’ me look like a fool finishing this early… shit… this is so e-embarrassing.”
The left side of your face is practically covered in his spill, and before you can even move to wipe it off with Eddie’s Hellfire merch, he’s grabbing you by the chin, pulling you up to his face and licking your cum-coated cheek with that sinful tongue of his.
He fucking moans at the taste of himself. You’re jealous.
You can’t help but moan, too.
“Were you seriously gonna wipe this gunk off with my shirt?” He whispers raspily, grinning playfully as he digs his fingertips into your cheeks. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed over with a post-orgasm look that nearly has you writhing in satisfaction because you did that to him. “That’s a bit rich coming from you, isn’t it?”
You hum challengingly, biting your lip as his hand trails down to the front of your throat. “You have a very, very dirty mouth, Eddie Munson.”
“Thought you liked talkative?” His hold on you is regarding. Tender. Fond. You shudder as he kicks off his shoes and his pants, leaving him in nothing but his ruined boxers before he’s rolling you onto your back and getting on his fucking knees, pinning you to the bed with a trancelike stare. “And the thing I said about you not being a slut? I totally take that back, by the way. You’re definitely a slut. The sluttiest person I know.”
You giggle, playfully kicking your leg at him as he unlaces your boots, “Slut-shaming is so not okay, just an FYI.”
“Well…” He chuckles at that, pulling your jeans down in one swift tug, “It’s a good thing you’re my slut, hm? Can shame you all I want and you’d still love little ol’ me.” You gasp when he parts your thighs, trailing his lips along the insides of your knees and calves while he caresses your ankles sweetly. “You’re fucking pretty. My pretty, slutty bestest friend.” You coo quietly at his words, biting your finger as his mouth dangerously nears the crotch of your innocent cotton panties. “So mean and sour to me, all the time, but fuck, can’t wait to taste you. Bet you’re so sweet, Y/N. M’gonna treat you so well, just you wait.”
“Think I’ve been waiting for a couple years already,” You tease. “Should’ve known you had the hots for me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie smirks, kissing up the sides of your belly before he’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra. A exasperated sigh leaves him as soon as he’s able to cup his palms over your tits, fingers brushing over your nipples as you moan quietly between pecks to his flushed cheeks. “You are a bad influence, m’lady.”
“And you’re even worse, your highness.” Your jaw falls open as he wraps his lips around your nipple, warm tongue flattening over the sensitive nub before he’s leaving dark hickies all across your breasts.
“Could eat you alive.” He breathes out desperately, shaking his head as he runs the tip of his finger down your belly, watches the way your abdomen flexes at his touch and plays with the little rose design at the top of your panties. “Fuck, m’gonna get h-hard again if I put my mouth on you. Can I take these off? Is that okay?”
You nod eagerly, sighing in pleasure as he suckles on the outside of your thigh, slowly and sensually pulling your underwear down your knees and ankles. “Eddie…”
“Oh, baby… you are just fuckin’ soaked. Look at this, you’re so wet, Y/N.” Your best friend chuckles, gently flicking the pad of his thumb over your folds. You shudder at the sensation, back arching from the creaky bunk bed before he’s sucking on your clit with unwavering eyes.
The audacity of him to look like an angel while doing this.
“E-Eddie, please… s’good…”
“Mmm?” He quirks his brow, smiling as he dips his tongue into your cunt. “Your pussy liked that, didn’t she? You like it? You like getting eaten out? You poor little thing… seems like you’ve been begging for it all night. Don’t even get me started on how ruined your panties are, didn’t think I noticed? Fuck, baby…”
You can feel the button of his nose nudging against your folds, his lips and tongue working your needy hole as he grips your hips roughly and rocks you against his face. It’s far from innocent. At this point, it’s way too far from platonic and much closer to a place of yearning since Eddie can’t help but let his other fist drift to his half-hard cock while dipping two, long fingers into your cunt.
“Mmm… f-fuck, Eds…”
“Yeah, keep sayin’ my name like that. Not really convinced you want it.” He rasps, kissing the insides of your knees as he curls his digits into you with a wicked grin. “Scream it. Shout it. ‘Oh, Eddie, please… please fuck me!’ C’mon, Y/N… you’re never this quiet, sweetie.” He teases, moaning between sentences as he jerks himself off to the squelching sounds between your thighs. “Always talking my ear off but the cat got your tongue now, hm?”
“You’re an a-asshole…”
“Aw, I’m not the one dripping all over the bed, so if I were you…” A moan falls from your lips as he adds another finger, groaning at the visual of his silver rings coated in your slick. “I’d fix that attitude. Beg me, Y/N. Convince me.”
“Please… go faster, I-I need it so bad… your fingers are f-fucking huge, I can’t take it anymore. Make me cum, please? I’ve been so good for you.”
“You sound so sexy when you beg. My new kink…” Eddie scoffs humorously, working his fingers quicker and harder inside you. “… hearing my best friend so desperate to cum. Messy girl, you sure you’re thinking about how my fingers feel? It’s okay to admit it, Y/N… just a-admit you want my cock inside you.”
You can feel his digits stretching against your walls, each thrust in and out dragging you closer and closer to that addicting sensation in your belly that has you soon quivering on his hand. The noises that leave your mouth are near-embarrassing, but Eddie’s lips on yours is enough to help you endure the pathetic way your pussy helplessly creams on his fingers.
“Shit… shit…” He grunts, mouthing at your neck as you cum all over his palm. “Fuck, man…” Your teary eyes glance down to his cock, gasping when you see a small string of cum dripping from his reddened tip. ”Heck, I don’t u-usually cum this much… sorry, sorry.”
“No, no. It’s hot. It’s really fucking hot.”
“Yeah?” He smiles shyly, raising his thumb to your lips for you to suck on.
You press your tongue to the cum-covered digit, humming at the taste before you’re pulling him onto the mattress and the empty space beside you. “Just means I get to make you cum a third time when I finally ride you.”
“No water break?” Eddie smirks as you completely pull his boxers off, thighs spread out as you move to straddle him.
“No, Mister Munson.” You shake your head playfully, kissing your way down his Adam’s apple before marking the pretty divot of his collarbone. He sighs as you reach behind you and take hold of his cock, lining him up with your entrance. “Think I’m having too much fun to stop.”
A string of curses leaves Eddie as you slowly sink down on him, cunt clenching him tightly as you adjust to his length. “Fuck, Y/N…”
“You’re so… god, you’re so big.” You cry out, screwing your eyes shut as you lean forward and interlock your hands with his.
He tenderly presses his lips to your arm, whispering sweet nothings against your skin, “S’okay, take y-your time, beautiful.”
But then you’re moving, and Eddie suddenly can’t think straight. He feels every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls and every moan that rumbles from your chest. He can’t focus on what you’re even saying, not on purpose, but fuck, his attention is stuck on how your pussy just grips him in and how your breasts adorably bounce in front of his own face as you start to grow comfortable with him.
Faster. Slower. Deeper. Rougher.
“E-Eddie, shit… oh, my god…”
“That’s right, Y/N. Ride it. Yeah, there you go.” He hisses as you shift back and rest your hands on his knees. Your jaw hangs ajar, face completely overcome with bliss as you ride him up and down. “Fuckin’ Ozzy, you look beautiful. A goddamn angel, sweetheart. A pain in the ass, but… fuck, now I really can’t have you hooking up with anyone else.”
“I’m still your best f-friend.”
“Yeah, and I love fucking my best friend so get that shit through your h-head, dumbass.” Eddie sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist. His huge palms wander over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. “You’re m-mine… don’t want anyone fucking you. You’re t-too good, baby. Too good for those boys out there.”
His cock drills into you from under, nails digging into your fleshy love handles as he messily fucks your cunt. You can’t even tell the difference between whose fluids are whose, too caught up in the pleasure to even keep yourself upright.
Disgusting, sloppy and needy sex.
Your friendship is just written all over it.
“Oh, Eddie!”
“There we go, Y/N. Doin’ such a fantastic job. Perfect like this. Fuck, wanna take you while you’re laying down. Bet you’d look so gorgeous, huh? Is that okay?”
And somehow, you’re nodding keenly, already laying on your back as he pushes your knees up to your chest and slips himself between your folds. The bunk bed frame bangs abruptly against the cabin wall, leaving an indent as Eddie rests his hand around the front of your throat and fucks you silly.
“Mmm, baby… fucking… oh, my god. You fuck me so good, Eds. Please. Oh, please!” You grab onto his hair, pulling him down for a lazy, wet kiss before you’re both watching the way his cock filthily disappears in and out of you. “No one c-can make me feel like this, Eddie. No one.”
“Yeah? All me, huh? S’right, I know how to treat my girl.”
My girl.
Not my best friend. But my girl.
“M’gonna cum if you keep clenching around me like that, Y/N.” He speaks up, voice riddled with a sheer gruffness that makes your cunt reel him in deeper. “God, what did I fucking tell you?”
“Keep fucking me like this and I’ll cum too.” You whisper, pecking the bulb of his nose as you touch his jawline. He feels so soft, so heavenly, opposite of the way he’s railing you right now. “We can cum together. It’ll feel s-so good.”
“Yeah? You want it inside you?”
“On the pill.” You croak out, moaning loudly as the pad of Eddie’s finger massages your clit. “S-So yeah, we can… we can make a mess out of each other.”
“Fuck, I’ll make a mess of you every damn day.” He chuckles, nibbling at your earlobe as his skin slaps lewdly against yours. “Maybe we can add to that stain collection on my m-mattress.”
So close. “You’re disgusting.”
You laugh as he smirks down at you teasingly, “You love me.”
“I do.” You breathe out, a groan ripping right from the back of your throat as his strokes deepen. “I kinda do.”
Eddie whimpers, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he mumbles, “I can’t. I shouldn’t. Shit, but I want to… so bad… jus’ fill you up and make you mine… make you my girl. Cum inside you and walk back to my cabin l-like I didn’t just fuckin’ ruin you.”
“If I just slipped my panties on and kept it inside, n-no one would know. It could be our dirty, little secret.”
“Fuck, this has gotta be my favorite secret then. You’re so goddamn beautiful, could h-have you to myself forever.” Eddie’s cock is pulsating inside you; your knees part against your chest as his hands roam over your stomach, grasping onto your waist for leverage. “I’m… heck, Y/N, I’m gonna fucking… cum…”
His next thrusts are unforgiving, determined, and you’re thoroughly surprised that the bed doesn’t give out when he puts his whole weight on top of yours.
“O-Oh, fuck!” You’re cumming hard and fast on his dick, thighs twitching and sweaty forehead pressed to Eddie’s as he circles his thumb over your clit.
Eddie doesn’t last very long either. Three for three tonight. But he doesn’t care, not when his cum is spilling out from under you, not when your folds are slick with him and your pretty skin is littered with his marks. He’s moaning into your mouth, kissing you messily before he finds himself spent.
“You’re s-so perfect.” He whispers, gently rocking against you before he’s slowly pulling out. “Keep that shit in there, yeah?”
“Mmm, sure.” You chuckle, biting your forefinger as he rolls off of you and snuggles up to your side. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, what just happened?”
It’s silly. Laughing with him. Hiding your grins behind clammy palms and hair sticking up in various directions as Eddie tackles you against the mattress, trailing his lips up your arms till he’s blowing raspberries in the crook of your neck like this is so natural for the both of you. Isn’t it? Hasn’t it always been more than a little platonic?
“I… I don’t know.” You smile at him shyly, playing with his necklace as you nudge noses. “I don’t know, but it was nice.”
“I liked it.” Eddie says quietly. His fingers innocently trace the swell of your breast, hair tickling your cheek as he reaches over to thumb at your jaw. “Every part of it, it’s something I’m… never, ever gonna forget.”
Damn it.
“Did you mean it? When you — when you called me your girl?” You pout meekly, and you would’ve found this whole interaction pathetic had it not been for the lingering grin of comfort on Eddie’s soft face. “Am I… your girl?”
“You’re my favorite girl.”
“Favorite?”
He nods with a hum. “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, ma’am. You kill me everytime. Is it… is it not obvious that I have, like, the biggest crush on you?”
“I mean…” A breathy laugh leaves your chest. “It was kinda obvious, just wanted to hear you admit it.”
“Touché, Y/N.” Eddie holds your stare, fingertips dragging along the underside of your jaw before he’s speaking tenderly against your parted lips. “Don’t break my fucking heart, okay?”
“Don’t break mine.”
And before Eddie can say the rest of what he wants to say, there’s a sudden chatter of people outside the cabin. The pair of you peer over at the window, collectively sighing in frustration when you catch sight of your classmates pooling into the cabin area.
“Fuck, I gotta go.” He groans, inhaling the scent of your neck one last time before he’s racing to grab his clothes and putting them on as fast as possible. “We’re not done here.”
“Certainly not, Munson.” You toss him his shirt, slipping your own before anyone can catch the two of you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He’s halfway out the door before he takes a pause. Glancing back at you, you share another look. That goddamn look. Yearning. Romantic. Needy. It’s straight out of a movie scene, where the words are right on the tip of his tongue, and Eddie may as well say it to see how things pan out from here.
“Y/N?”
“Eds?”
A beat. “I kinda love you, too.”
Soon, he’s out in a flash, jogging off to his own cabin with the giddiest smile on his face that he can’t seem to wipe off even when he tries to push down any and all thoughts of you. But fuck that, he’ll dream of you anyways, like he always does.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
And then, it all hits for a second time.
Your best friend just admitted that he loves you on the porch of a girls-only cabin during your senior camping trip.
So my favourite picture of Eddie is the grainy shitty missing poster photo, cause he looks so damn cool and intimidating. Decided to draw it as close as my limited ability allows me to so I can have a version of the photo that doesn’t look like it’s been microwaved.
Anyway here he is, bootleg Dio shirt and all. Hopefully its okay. 💕
𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. iii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: through the days and weeks that pass after, your friendship becomes more complicated, imploding in on itself. fortunately, eddie wasn't going to let you go that easy.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, phone sex, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering/sex/all that jazz, babes, brief use of cuffs, innocence!kink, mentions of hard relationship with parents (reader), lots of teasing and some cheesy angsty with a spice of fluff. if this is all over the place, i'm sorry.
word count: 8.8k — part one, part two
Your parents start to ask about the wild-haired kid who constantly picks you up for school every morning now; it was something Eddie insisted on after realizing that not only did you not ride the bus or bike to school, you’d been walking for the past few years, school more than a mile away from your home–you’d been lying to him for a while about it, but it was harder to ignore now. You didn’t have the luxury of a car or parents that could drive you to school every morning. Eddie was having none of that, even despite your pending graduation, he wanted to make an effort where it counted the most—even with the littlest things.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” You complain to your parents, almost on a daily occurrence, watching as they eye the suspicious change in attitude and demeanor. You were happier, more carefree—it wasn’t completely one-eighty, but it was noticeable, “He’s just a guy I play Dungeons and Dragons with—we’re in the same grade.”
If that wasn’t already problem enough; the constant bickering and complaining from them about how bad of an influence that game was on kids—it was harmless, but the media had created quite the frenzy around it and your parents sucked it right up, spewing it back at you.
Eddie was never just some guy, either, and you wanted him so badly it pained you—it changed gradually, over the past few weeks he’d somehow charmed you even more. It started with the rides, sharing snacks with you at lunch, spending more and more time together after school at his designated smoke spot, watching quietly as he partook in the activities you chose to sit out on, despite how quickly he had begun to corrupt you and nightly phone calls had soon become a ritual.
They were truly sacred.
Eddie’s almost unhinged, the way he speaks to you now; the barrier of the phone giving him all the courage he needs to say what he feels, the deepest and dirtiest thoughts he holds back, always too terrified to say them to your face. It’s not like you cared (even if you totally did), you two weren’t a thing—whatever you had, it wasn’t special, but it was needed.
It made things easier now, having explored each other’s bodies to a certain extent; you could picture him, his hands, everything. You never had an orgasm now that wasn’t caused or led by Eddie, in one way or another. Eddie didn’t need you to confess that to him, it was pathetically obvious.
“Is that what you’re thinking about?” You wonder, voice high pitched and breathless, fingers buried deep inside your cunt, working tirelessly toward your own orgasm. “Want me to suck you off, Eddie?”
He groans, low and guttural—the harsh and filthy word leaving your lips was so unlike you; it always made Eddie feel some type of way. He wasn't sure how far you were willing to go, but he was learning more and more about you each day.
All the nastiest fantasies that you thought about—wanted him to do to you.
“Fuuuck,” He drags out, pussy clenching around your fingers at the sound of him desperately tugging at his dick over the receiver, phone resting lazily on his chest, moving with every staggering breath he took, “gotta get you on your knees, staring up all innocent and shit, those fucking eyes—“
He grunts, squeezing at the base of his dick.
One thing about Eddie, he enjoyed the edging. It was almost a game to him, how quickly he could bring himself to the brink, forcing himself into a full stop, still managing to maintain enough composure to help you toward your own. He almost never came before you. Almost.
“You fall apart so pretty,” You coo, gasping at a particular curl of your own fingers, before pulling the soaked digits out to drag over your swollen, sensitive clit, “love watching you come, Eddie.”
He mumbles a small ‘uh huh’, his mind momentarily elsewhere, mind hazy with thoughts to force himself from releasing too fast.
“Wanna know what you taste like,” Eddie nearly chokes at that, “it’s only fair, right? I mean, you’re the one that got to have all the fun last time.”
“You taste so fucking sweet,” He grits out, continuing his quick, harsh flicks of his wrist, gripping himself to the point of pain, nearly, “like honey, shit’s addicting.”
One taste and he was hooked; it was a drug.
“Gonna come, Eddie—wanna hear you.” You beg, voice broken and needy, fingers rubbing quick circles over the squishy bead, forcing your hand over your mouth as you nearly yelled, that pleasure high sneaking up on you quickly, orgasm hitting you with full force.
And it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard, how easily he just decides to let go, groaning openly into the phone. You can’t help but blush, knowing very well that it was all you—he couldn’t get enough.
“Oh, fuck,” He whines softly. You can hear the soft jingle of his leathered, chain bracelet as it rattles against his skin, milking his dick for all it’s worth. Eddie always makes a huge mess, having learned from his past mistakes that it was much easier to do this shirtless, “I don’t think I’ve came that hard in a while.” He admits after a long silence, still trying to catch his breath.
You giggle softly into the phone, adjusting and pulling the covers of your bed over you. He’s rustling around on his end, cleaning up his chest with, probably, another random article of clothing—then lets out a loud ‘oof’.
“Good to know I’ve still got it.” You joke, smiling wide, despite the fact that Eddie would never see it.
He only wanted to make you happy, it was a crime that he couldn’t see how easily he was capable of doing it.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you ever lost it.”
You make a small noise of indifference, “I can only work with so much—since I’ve never had sex before.”
He doesn’t comment on it, at least not audibly.
Eddie’s thought about it plenty, but doesn’t harp on the fact as much anymore. It used to be a big, lingering thing between you both—but eventually it faded into the distance, more about how much you both enjoyed each other and the company you kept, how easy it was to indulge in what you wanted; no worry or shame.
“I aced Kaminsky’s test, by the way,” Eddie adds, a familiar flick of his lighter on the other end, speech mumbled by the cigarette tucked between his lips, “then he tried to accuse me of cheating.”
“Eddie—you did,” You laugh, remembering how he begged you for the answers, though, the payment was definitely worth it; Eddie really enjoyed going down on you, “and you’re welcome.”
“Hey, I put in some work,” He defends feebly, “You came twice.”
“Okaaay,” You interrupt, knowing that if you continued down that path, it would be hard for both of you to stop, and you were too exhausted to keep things going, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Eddie couldn’t wipe the smug smile off of his face the rest of the night.
—
And despite Eddie’s vehement protests, you were becoming just as bad of an influence as he was. It’s exactly why he cancels Hellfire the following Friday, making up some lame excuse about how Wayne really needed his help with something; it was important and Eddie couldn’t do that to his uncle—aside from the fact that Wayne didn’t need him at all.
Eddie was on a high that day, particularly naughty for no reason at all—the quick touches to your waist, lingering fingers his hand rested against the back of your neck, or he’s undying need to press himself up against your back as he passed through the busy hallway—he was at least semi-hard almost the entire school day, doing everything he could to drive you absolutely mad. Unfortunate for him, it had.
“Huh uh,” You shook your head, shoved into the dark confines of the theater room—the others still had a while before they would arrive, but you were determined to not let him slide, not this time. Your hand is fisted in the front of his worn Hellfire Club shirt, his back crowded against the wall, “You’re going to tell them to go home.”
“What?” Eddie balks, eyes wide and hands thrown out to his side in disbelief, “I can’t do that!”
He was still willing to put up a fight.
“Fine,” You say, releasing your steady grip on him. His face quickly morphs to puzzled as he watches you grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” He asks, hand wrapping around your bicep gently. “Sweetheart…”
His words linger, the words he needs to say never coming to fruition. You smile sickeningly sweet, running a finger over the wide expanse of his rings.
You nod, staring down at his fingers as they gripped you tighter, “Actually, give me your rings.” You say suddenly, eyes glancing up to him. You half expect him to refuse, but he doesn’t. Eddie hands them over so easily that you’re a little stricken by it, but that wasn’t going to deter your efforts.
You grasp the chunky rings in your palm and pocket them.
Eddie watches closely as you lean toward him, all sense of personal space out the window, lips barely grazing his own, “Now—I’m gonna go home, put these on, and fuck myself with my fingers until I’m coming all over them.” Eddie pales at the admission.
“So, rain check?” You smile innocently, “And I’ll bring these bad boys back to you in a couple days?” You pat at the stuffed pocket.
Eddie would have to wait the entire weekend and that just wouldn’t do.
“You’re so fucking evil,” Eddie complains, the slightest hint of smirk crossing his face. He enjoyed the game, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. You’d become increasingly more relaxed, willing to bend the rules—though, he was really regretting it now. He tosses you his keys in defeat, “Go start the van.”
You giggle proudly, catching the keys.
Fortunately, the group didn’t care much about Eddie canceling.
—
Eddie still had an edge to him the moment you arrived at his trailer. He wasn’t angry, or mad—but definitely frustrated. The lingering tension between you had been growing by the day and it was finally coming to a head.
Eddie bites at the inside of your thigh in warning, causing you to squeal out in response, shoving gently at his head. “What the fuck?” You ask, vocabulary becoming more and more colorful the longer you hang out with him. “That wasn’t nice.”
“You want nice?” Eddie asks teasingly, face so close to your cunt, just a inch forward and he’d be there, mouth buried against you. It was a dangerous game of back and forth you’d both been playing that day, both of you determined to come out on top. ‘Nice like how you made me cancel Hellfire today?”
You try to interrupt, but Eddie pulls your thighs wider, bordering on slightly uncomfortable. The dynamic between you both was—-well, tense, at times. It was either perfect and quaint and just a means to relieve tension, but other times; it was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, one of you bound to lose miserably.
You gasp softly, eyes following his intense gaze, “Nice like how you made me walk around all day half-hard, knowing that I couldn’t do anything about it?” There’s bits behind his words, mostly frustrated with himself, rather than you.
“Does that seem nice to you?” He asks.
“And you think it’s okay to touch me the way you do?” You ask carefully, eyes wandering to the fingers wrapped firmly around your thighs, digging into the soft flash, “In front of everyone?”
He knew people were watching, that was the problem. It felt like he was making a spectacle out of you; not that it was a bad thing, but you enjoyed the secrecy and privacy within your friendship. You didn’t have to explain anything to anyone—who cares if you liked to mess around with your best friend? It wasn’t anyone’s business but yours—but when eyes started to wander and pry, that’s what was harder to deal with.
You were both entirely too pent up with frustration, but also undoubtedly riddled with sexual tension, ready to jump each other at any moment—still, you weren’t ready. You couldn’t bring yourself to cross that line.
It wasn’t because you were scared or worried—you knew the moment you agreed or caved, it became real, and you couldn’t handle the idea of being in love with Eddie, having such a strong relationship with him, all for it to fall apart because of one silly little encounter that could make or break your friendship. This wasn’t just sex for Eddie—even when he was frustrated or annoyed, he still managed to have all the amount of tenderness one could hold.
“Just—stop,” You sigh, forcing yourself away from him, sitting up in his bed, “I’m not in the mood anymore.”
Things had ramped up quickly since the night at the lake—which wasn’t only Eddie’s fault. You both shared the blame equally, but it was starting to catch up to you; you didn’t know how to handle it.
Eddie reaches out gently, rubbing your knee with his fingers. Even his touch burned, but not in the way you liked. It was all too overwhelming right now, you wanted to hide. “Hey, I’m sorry—I thought we were playing into it, you know?”
“Being mean to each other?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “Teasing, maybe. But, I was never trying to be mean—you remember when we agreed not to tell anyone about this?”
Eddie nods slowly, hands still glued to your knee—you wanted to push it away, but you also never wanted it to leave.
“People watch us all the time—you make it worse when you touch me the way you do.” You breathe through your nose, “Friends don’t touch each other like that, Eddie.”
“Who cares?”
Eddie was on a completely different wavelength, so blinded by how much he cared for you, that it didn’t matter who was around.
“I do.” You didn’t understand why it wasn’t clicking—why he couldn’t see how much it bothered you. That’s why you tried to mask it so hard at school, play it off like a game. Even if Eddie felt the same way you did—which was impossible, because it was. It just was. There wasn’t a need for explanation. You were his friend, but you were also a convenience, at least that’s how it felt.
Despite how kind Eddie was, friend or not, this was bound to end horribly.
“Then what—do you want to stop?” Eddie asks, the smallest hint of surprise in his tone; he didn’t understand where any of this was coming from. He couldn’t understand what he did wrong.
“Not stop,” You explain, “Maybe…take a break?”
Like this was a relationship; you were very well aware that it was not.
Eddie chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, quiet for longer than you’re used to, trying to absorb everything you were saying. He felt terrible, like he’d pushed you too far. But the truth of that matter was, he just couldn’t help himself—he wanted to be around you as often as possible, as much as you would let him—but you weren’t ready, and even if he wanted you to be, he wasn’t going to force you.
He’d wait as long as it took for you to realize.
“Okay,” He agrees, his voice soft. “Did you want me to take you home?”
And truthfully, that’s the last thing on your mind. You just wanted your friend, without all the complicated strings attached. Just Eddie.
“No,” You shake your head slightly, “Can we just—-lay here for a while, maybe?”
Eddie always provides just the right amount of care you need, it’s a deep reminder of how special he was to you. Regardless of everything else, he was the only source of comfort you had right now.
You never go home that night and that’s what starts it all.
The fight with your parents the next morning is entirely your fault; nothing but a simple mistake to some, but to your parents—it was an atrocity, Eddie never stopped apologizing, even after they rarely let you leave the house—a month, two months; school, Hellfire, then home.
Your situation with Eddie dwindled quickly in the aftermath.
—
Eddie doesn’t call as often either, not for more than a few minutes—sometimes it’s questions about his campaign or questions for homework; it’s almost like none of it ever happened. You can’t blame him, though—your tone is so miserable that he starts to believe that he’s the problem.
You start walking to school again, as much as Eddie hates to watch. But, he knows your sense of pride—you weren’t going to ask him, not after how badly things went with your parents. You never talked about it and he didn’t ask—he couldn’t.
And you seemed like a different person, most of the time. Though, you still smiled at his jokes—he was calling that a win. And you did get to see him everyday, which was nice, but it wasn’t like before—it would never be like before.
You try desperately to ignore how badly you want to be around him, with him, surrounded by him. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you and makes you feel small. There were times when you wanted to reach out and grab his hand, just hold a part of him—but even that felt foreign now.
So when it does happen, it’s a shock to your system.
Everyone’s saying their goodbyes before the illusive Winter Break, talking about their big plans—but none of it really matters to you.
You parents always go on some big extravagant getaway around their anniversary—which you didn’t mind, it was actually sweet, seeing two people that were still so head over heels for each other; sweet enough to make you sick, in some regards. But, it meant you spent most of your time cooped up alone in your house, with nothing to do, no one to hang out with—it was lonely and you hated it.
“Princess,” The word tugs at your heart, a flood of memories hitting you at once, “any big plans for the holiday?”
You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Not a single one.” You tell him, watching as he leaned his shoulder against the wall beside you, leaned closely into your space—not enough to make you want to back away, though you’re not sure you would even if he did move closer. “Just a big, boring, empty house to myself for two weeks—my own personal hell.”
“That’s the perfect time to throw a total rager, you know.” He’s joking and it does make you laugh, but he can still see that something is clearly off.
“What about you?” You ask curiously, “Did you and Wayne manage to put the Christmas tree up before Christmas Eve this year?”
“Surprisingly—yeah,” He says through a short, chortled laugh. “Right after Thanksgiving, actually. You’d be proud.”
Your smile is forced, pulled together in a tight line.
He doesn’t ask, doesn’t even think twice, before pulling you to his chest, your arms wrapping him out of instinct, tugged snugly underneath his jacket, the warmth of his skin radiating through his thin raglan shirt.
“I’m sorry.”
Eddie apologizes too much and it’s a horrible habit.
“It’s okay, Eddie.” You say softly, squeezing him just a bit tighter, forcing yourself to remember this moment; it was the only recent memory you had of being close to him, you weren’t going to let yourself forget it.
It’s the first time he’s heard you say his name in a while; less condescending than usual, more endearing and genuine. He knew you meant it—he knew you were okay, but it still didn’t help that he was fighting every day to not just admit everything to you—it wasn’t what you needed, not right now.
Besides, he wasn’t sure if you would even care. It had been so long, why would any of it matter now?
—-
And by now, no one ever calls you but Eddie. So when the phone rings, it’s an automatic: “Yeah?” Through a voice sick with last night’s sleep, the rising sun peeking through your window.
“Are you busy today?” His voice is incredibly chipper for as early as it was—which, you weren’t even sure of the time.
“Eddie—what time is it?” You ask slowly, rubbing at your eyes, blurry with sleep.
“Seven.”
“In the morning?” You ask incredulously, head slumping against the pillow. “If it’s about the campaign, you can call me later.”
“No, no,” He rushes out, feeling the impending click he was about to receive, thus ending his chances at saying what he wanted to say; the whole reason he had even called in the first place, “It’s not that.”
It’s been two weeks since he’s talked to, seen you, it all felt too strange. The jackhammering beat of his heart behind his ribcage is enough to scare him out of saying anything, but he knows if he doesn’t get it out now, he’ll never be able to.
And maybe he should’ve called later, regretting having woken you up—and always lessen the time he had to feel dejected if you actually rejected him; he couldn’t tell where your head was at anymore, not that he really could before.
The silence that lingers is enough of a clue, triggering you to speak before Eddie does, “Did you want to come over?” You ask suddenly—it dawns on you that he’s never even been in your home. You knew the inside of his trailer like that back of your hand—it was cozier than your own home, more personal. The endless wall of mugs that Wayne loved to talk about, the littered baby pictures of Eddie strung around the place, always being held by a much younger Wayne—there was love there; complete opposite from what you felt at home.
Old you would’ve been terrified out of your mind to sneak a boy into your home—but at this point, you can’t be bothered to care. It’s almost like your parents were asking for it, leaving you alone like this; and if this was how you went out, you’d be content with it. Though, they were several miles away, so, there was no harm in trying.
“Uh, yeah—yeah, sure.” Eddie tries to reply calmly, lamely hiding his immediate eagerness.
“Good,” You smile, “Bring snacks.”
Eddie spends almost twenty minutes fighting an internal battle over Twizzlers or chocolate, because for the life of him—he can’t remember which one you like more. He buys both.
—
When he does finally arrive, he’s standing at the door with his trademark grin, bags held out beside his head and it’s almost like none of all that bad shit ever happened.
“There any Twizzlers in those bags?” You ask suspiciously, almost like he’d lose his free pass inside if there weren’t
“I knew it!” He laughs, gently tossing the bag in your direction. “I also got those little chocolates you like, the tiny ones wrapped in foil and—“
A kiss on his cheek is the last thing he’s expecting, before being promptly pulled past the threshold of your front door.
He’s confused, eyeing you like you’d grown a second head.
“A kiss for the kisses, right?” You say coyly, “I’ll still pay you back, don’t worry.”
“Oh, no—no, it’s fine.” Eddie says, very adamant in his refusal, “It was just pocket change, I’m not worried.”
A silence settles over you both, leading him to the large couch in your living room. He’s never been in a house so spacey, not squeezed and filled to the brim with furniture.
“I won’t say no to kisses, though.”
It was so easy to settle into old habits.
You laugh to yourself, placing the snacks on the small table set in the center of the room. “All out of those now too, unfortunately.”
Eddie’s dressed so casually it almost shocks you—a secondhand sweater that was definitely Wayne’s at one point or another, worn at the collar and a muted black that has been run through the washing machine one too many times, despite the tag's insistent warning to hand wash only—matched with a pair of ripped black jeans and his favorite Reeboks. But now he’s just standing there, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly.
He wouldn’t let anyone else catch him like this. They’d be dead the moment they saw him. Especially with the way he tucked his hair behind his ears, you could swoon at the sight—but you knew well enough to keep your composure.
And comparatively, you were dressed in something similar, opting for sweatpants rather than jeans, choosing to be huddled up on the couch by the fireplace tucked in the wall of your living room—Hawkin’s winters were brutal.
“Sit,” You motioned toward the couch, shoving a continuously replayed copy of Risky Business into the VHS player, “stop acting so weird.”
He quirks any eyebrow at the movie choice, toeing off his shoes to rest his feet atop the table, arm slung over the back of the couch, “That one, really?”
“Oh, fucking can it, Eddie.” You warn, tossing the cardboard cover to the ground and starting the movie.
Eddie huffs a short laugh, his gaze following you until you’re placed opposite of him, pointedly putting enough space between you both—neither of you needed the mixed signals.
Though, you were the one that invited him over in the first place. There wasn’t any real reasoning behind it—you missed him, that was it. It didn’t matter that you were desperately in love with the boy.
He hits the side of your foot with his own sock covered one, tossing you the bag of snacks. Stubbornness be damned, you were still going to enjoy the sweets he bought for you.
When he sneaks his hand into the bag of chewy red ropes, you almost gasp, watching as he brings the candy to his lips and pulls, yanking off a small piece.
“What are you doing?” You ask, watching Eddie’s eyes peek over at you.
This man has never touched a Twizzler in his life and decided to start now?
“Eating?” Wasn’t it obvious? He takes another small bite. He’s clearly putting some force behind the swallow.
“You hate Twizzlers.” You remind him, pulling the candy from his hand.
“But you love them.” He offers, like it’s a cure all.
“Oh, sweetheart,” You chuckle fondly, shoving the bags to the side, “I have popcorn and drinks—you don’t have to put yourself through that much misery to hang out with me.”
The smile that Eddie cracks is a win for you.
“Thank god,” He sighs in relief, “Would you mind?”
After all is said and done, he’s sitting even straighter, digging into the bowl of popcorn like a man starved. You try not to think about it; how easily he would’ve suffered through something so easily fixed, just to be around you. And he could’ve easily bought something for himself, but he was so focused on what you’d wanted that he forgot entirely.
—
Candy forgotten, you’ve both got your hands shoved into the bowl of popcorn, eating absently through random questions:
“What about Tom Cruise?” Eddie asks curiously, going down his long list of compiled men that he knew you had to be attracted—at least one.
“Mmm, no.” You disagree, shaking your head furiously. He chuckles at the face you make, mocking the way your nose scrunches up in disgust.
“Yeah, I didn't think so.” He agrees. “Doesn’t seem like your type.”
“My type?” You ask, curiosity peaked. “Oh, honey—do tell. What is my type then?”
If Eddie is bothered by the endearment, he doesn’t show it.
He shrugs; not wanting to answer the question outright. He was the one who brought it up, so of course you were going to press him on it. You couldn’t recall ever having a type—aside from Eddie, but that had nothing to do with how he looked, not that he wasn’t already beautiful in his own right, but you can remember a time you’ve ever felt so pulled toward someone because of the way they looked; it was impossible.
“Uh, guys with long hair, you know.” He explains, hands moving animatedly as he talks, motion at his own hair. “Really good at guitar, killer music taste—“
You see what he’s trying to do, but you’re not letting him off that easily.
“Oh yes—Eddie Van Halen is pretty cute, now that I think about it.” You make a thoughtful face, bottom lip jutting out as you pondered, but the only person you really had in mind was your Eddie.
And Eddie has those sick, puppy dog eyes at the sudden admission, thinking you’ve missed the point completely.
“But, I guess my Eddie isn’t so bad either.”
It doesn’t immediately register with your own brain when you say it, a mindless thought slipping through your mouth unfiltered.
His eyebrows skyrocket to the ceiling, watching your cheeks blush the deepest shade of red. You face feels hot, your body feels hot, and you really can’t believe you just fucking said that.
“I mean—“ You fumble through your words, deciding on a lame, “You know what I mean.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything, grin growing wider on his face—savoring in your slip up.
“Shut up.” You shove him, placing both your hands against his chest in an effort to throw him—wipe the stupid smile off his face, “Shut your face up right now or I swear to—“
Eddie’s hands grip the length of your wrists, wrapping around loosely, but it’s enough to keep him from falling back; unfortunately, it pulls you closer.
“Swear to what?” Eddie presses, watching you with those mesmerizing brown eyes, even you couldn’t pull your gaze away.
“Eddie,” You warn him, pulling gently at the hold he has on you. He doesn’t budge, “let go.” And still, your voice is too unconvincing.
“Do you really want me to?” Eddie asks.
No. Fuck, no. You want to say the memories flood back to you, but they’ve been there the entire time; your entire friendship with Eddie had been built on trust—trust in each other that there was never any judgment, even before everything got complicated, he was still, very much, the only person you could rely on and regardless of what happens here or after, he was never going to be out of your life, not really.
“Whatever’s going on in that head of yours,” He speaks again, realizing how distant you were—he could see how hard your brain was working to come up with something, anything to get yourself out of what you really wanted to say, “just say it.”
“We can’t.” You tell him. Eddie doesn’t need to be a genius to figure that out, but nevertheless, his grip still remains. “Is that why you called earlier?”
“It feels weird not being around you,” Eddie confesses, “and I fucking hate it.”
He hates that he can’t get you out of his head, as hard as he tried. This was all his fault anyways; turning nothing into something. It all started as a game—and Eddie never really expected it to go as far as it did, but it left him wanting more and more, until he just wanted you. He didn’t want you as a friend, he wanted you as everything that came with that, but more.
He wanted to hold you when you were upset, but still be offered the same sentiment. He wanted to kiss you in front of his friends, without you constantly fearing the judgement—he wanted to introduce himself to your parents properly, and then maybe they wouldn’t hate him so much. Eddie wanted you in every way conceivably possible. He’s never done relationships, they weren’t his thing; but for you, he wanted it.
And what started of as a silly, stupid little crush he had on you in the beginning, even before he made those choices on the phone, it was always there—but, it had grown out of control.
“I know,” You reply quietly, “I miss you—it, everything.”
You don’t elaborate, but Eddie knows.
“I’m sorry my parents hate you,” Eddie watches the way you talk to your hands and his grip loosens, hands settling on the side of your thigh, where your leg rested against the couch, tucked between the both of you, other foot planted against the cushion, knee up near your face, “and I’m sorry that I was so scared of it.”
“Of what?”
“Being with you—I know that’s what you wanted.” And it’s the first time you feel like you can breathe, Eddie however, is now feeling just as small. “And the problem is—I hate how long I’ve wanted it too.”
Eddie wants to say something, but the words are stuck in his throat. His hand squeezes at the squishy flesh of your thigh, a comforting gesture, still quiet as he tries to find the right thing to say.
“And I mean like, being your girlfriend—not just being with you, physically.” You reach for his fingers, intertwining them with your own. He still got his chunky rings on, the jewelry like an extension of himself. “Not that I don’t want that either—I just, I don’t even know where I’m trying to go with this anymore.”
Fortunately, Eddie does—and to put you out of your endless misery, not knowing how to make the doubtful thoughts stop, he kisses you.
It’s not long or drawn out, either—it’s short and sweet and exactly what you need in that moment.
“I’m not asking you to label anything,” Eddie explains, “I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want, even if it’s in front of people we know.”
And it shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does.
“Or hug you, at least. We haven’t been friends for a while, princess—I think that’s pretty fucking obvious.”
Blatantly, in fact.
Eddie didn’t care about labels. He cared about you.
—
He does kiss you square on the mouth the first morning back at school another couple weeks later, for all of your friends to see—and you really can’t help yourself either, going back in for a second kiss when you realize just how mortified they all look; maybe it wasn’t all so bad. Your parents however, that was a different situation.
It was another obstacle to tackle at another time—maybe never, if it was up to you. Either way, it’s put on the back burner for the sake of your sanity, because there was no other outcome in sight aside from literal house arrest—it was exactly what happened last time.
And while you could easily disagree and pull the adult card, it was easier to ignore it for now. You enjoyed the blissful ignorance for what it was, no need to ruin the one good thing in your life.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Eddie asks, jacket tossed over his shoulder lazily. You nod, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.
“They think I’m spending the night with Robin, so we’re in the clear.”
You owed Robin for the rest of fucking eternity for this.
“You know, you could just tell them.” He offers, like it’s the simplest solution in the world. Tell them, risk being disowned, grounded until graduation—all out of love, they promised. But really, it was just another way to control you. It was never that simple.
“You’re so cute,” You reply, patting softly at his chest, “but no.”
And things fall back into place easily with Eddie, spread out over his lap on the old couch in his trailer, knees bracketing his hips. He’s playing with the front of your shirt, pulling at the tacky design that was falling from the cloth—
He thinks the first glide of your hips is a mistake, adjusting yourself on his lap more comfortably, until you do it again. And he’s been so deprived that he can’t find it in him to stop you, hands falling to your waist in defeat, gripping loosely.
“Don’t stop,” He breathed out, head falling against the back of the couch, mouth hung open partly as his eyes connected with the spot where your hips were working tirelessly, “please, don’t stop.”
You don’t know what brought it out of you; maybe it was the lack of physical touch for so long, or maybe you had just been lonely—regardless it’s the type of pleasure you find yourself getting lost in, barely in control of your own body.
Reaching for his hand, you guide him to cup over your clothed cunt, the barely there press of his palm enough to drive you insane. “Want you to fuck me, Eddie.”
“You serious, princess?” He asks softly, eyes half lidded but still locked on you, on your intertwined hands where they rested against your body. “We don’t have to—you know I’ll always wait until you’re okay with it.”
“I wouldn’t be telling you that if I didn’t want to.” He’s so precious it hurts, the way his smile stretches across his face; the same type of smile he has when he’s two blunts in and gone for the night, it’s a similar high, being with you.
—
Eddie closes the door to his bedroom with a soft click, immediately bounding for the bed, crawling his way toward you until he’s right over you, forcing himself between your legs carefully, swinging them up and over his hips until you’re clinging to him.
He kisses at the side of your stomach playfully, biting the tender flesh. You gasp softly, surprised by the nip. “Wanna try something?” Eddie asks suddenly, the idea popping into his head before he can force it out.
“Should I be worried?” You ask quizzically, watching as he pushes away from you, leaning toward the metal cuffs hanging from his wall. Your eyes widen in disbelief—and it’s not like you didn’t know he had them, they stuck out like a sore thumb, but Eddie also never made it a point to talk about them. Your innocent mind always assumed it was just decoration; odd choice, but you weren’t in any place to judge.
“Hey—only if you want to,” Eddie reminds, placing them in your hand for your own curiosity. They’re definitely real, cold and hard to the touch—you pull at the long chain that connects them, “it’s safe and I can always take them off if you don’t like it.”
And you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to see what it was all about, handing them back to Eddie with an eager nod. Eddie’s smile is warm, his touch gentle as he binds your hands in the contraption, leaning you back until your arms are resting over your head—your panties come next, lifting your hips in assistance as he slides them down your bare legs.
“This seems counterintuitive,” There’s too much slack to your wrists, a little constrained, but still moveable—it defeats the purpose.
“I usually don’t use them like that,” Eddie points out, a smug look on his face. He doesn’t want to elaborate, mostly because talking about other sexual encounters in the midst of another didn’t seem like the best idea, but they way your face widens in embarrassment, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink—it almost makes him want to explain, “I guess I’m trusting you to keep them up there for now—no touching, yeah?”
You giggle softly, watching Eddie crawl backwards until he’s settled between your legs, hands gripping the back of your thighs to push them apart and wide—and god, he’s missed this.
The first swipe of his tongue is long, hot, a trail of saliva up the seam of your pussy. You’d never get over how easily Eddie could work you up. He sucks delicately at your sensitive clit, using the grip he had on your legs to force you to squirm a little, his thumbs digging into the apex of your thighs.
The chains jingle slightly, instinctively spreading your arms apart at the motion. “Hey, not fair.” You gasp out, savoring in the way Eddie laughs against your cunt, mumbling a muffled, “That’s the point.”
Either way, it effectively shuts you and your rambling thoughts up, moaning unabashedly at the way Eddie worshiped you, the squelching sounds of your wetness the last thing you were worried about. His fingers rub along your folds teasingly, causing you to tense slightly. Eddie senses your nerves, pulling away to look at you.
“I’ll go slow,” He assures you, “Just be vocal with me, alright?”
Words—yeah, those were good. If only you could come up with some.
And the first dip of his finger is light, barely a pressure as he rubs it into your slick, wetting his finger. And it’s not like you’ve never had a finger inside of you before—they had been your own, of course, and that was precisely the problem. His middle finger slides in easily, not much resistance, but the stretch is nice.
He’s slow and attentive, watching the way your face scrunches in pleasure when he crooks his finger a certain way or rubs his tongue against your clit teasingly; he’s trying to drag this out, give you the time you need, but you really can’t handle it.
“More,” You beg, too aware of your lack of being able to touch him. You wanted to bury your hands in his curly mess of hair and press him into you; force him to give you exactly what you want, “want more, Eddie.”
The second finger is surprising, his so much larger than your own. “Are they?” Eddie asks suddenly, pulling you from deep concentration, not realizing you’d even spoken out loud.
“Fuller,” You note, hiccupping at a curl of his fingers, hitting something so deep inside of you that it’s almost a shock to your system, “bigger, definitely bigger.”
It seems to spur Eddie on, watching you thrash and moan, desperate as you fuck yourself against his own fingers, letting you chase your own pleasure at your own pace. “That’s it,” He encourages, the soft noises that escape you are enough to have him rutting against the bed, but he’s really struggling to control himself, “wanna watch you come on my fingers, princess.”
All over his rings, he thinks—just as you had teased him before. He takes the moment to tease you in return, “Never gonna take these fucking things off as long as they’re covered in you.”
“Eddie,” You whine out softly, begging, “just want you inside me, please?”
“Yeah?” He asks, his thumb ghosting over your swollen clit, small circles causing you to keen forward, hands struggling desperately now against the metal barrier, “Think you can take it, sweetheart?”
You nod desperately, moaning loudly at his assault on your sensitive bud, orgasm crashing over you like a wave. “Off, take them off.” You pant through the downfall, swinging the cuffs over your head. Eddie works quickly, using the resistance of the chain to pull you upright toward him, letting you out of them easily, like he’s done it a million times before—or practiced, at least. You pull him toward you in an instant, shirt yanked over his head in the process.
“Condom.” He reminds you, fumbling anxiously with his belt and pants. He nods toward his bedside table, “Grab it.”
Eddie’s still struggling with his pants even after you grab the small foil package. He’s just as unprepared and nervous as you are; it’s entirely too poetic.
“Hey, calm down,” You console him softly, looking up at him where he’s knelt in front of you, “we’re okay.”
And he wants to laugh at how stupid he feels—why did you need to be the one calming him down?
“I just don’t want to fuck this up for you.” Eddie admits.
It’s the last thing on your mind.
—
Eddie presses himself against your folds, dragging through the wetness slowly, a gentle, occasional rock of his hips, the tip of his cock sliding up against your clit each time. It took him a while to shut his thoughts down, but once he had you laid out before him, looking at him so wantonly, he was done for.
“Eddie.” It’s a plea, desperate and raw.
It’s met with a kiss; deep, meaningful, the press of his lips distracting you from the sting as he presses into you with the firm, ruddy tip of his cock. The gasp you let out against his mouth is obscene, but you can’t deny how good it feels to be stretched open by him. He gives a small, shallow thrust—a small nod of your head, then another, until he’s nearly bottomed out inside of you.
“Fuck.” You curse, lips sliding against his own in a mess fight of tongue and teeth.
“You okay?” He asks cautiously, pulling back to check your expression. You don’t realize how intimate it all is until you’re staring him down, his eyes scanning you carefully.
“Yeah,” You assure him with a soft smile. “You don’t have to be so careful, you know?”
Eddie lets out a small snort of amusement, rising on his legs until he’s upright, adjusting your legs until they’re skin securely over his hips, the weight of them resting in his palms. “Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.”
Eddie knew your limits and exactly what you were capable of—even sneakier than himself, sometimes. So he kicks it up a notch, spewing all types of lewd, filthy sounds out as he fucks into you steadily, hands resting against the tops of your thighs firmly, using the leverage to pull you back against him with every snap.
And it feels too fucking good.
“Thought you wanted to ruin me,” You snarked through the show he’s putting on, not that you weren’t enjoying it. He wasn’t faking in the slightest, absolutely wrecked by the sight of you stretched out over his cock, he’s never been so distracted in his life, “what happened to that?”
“I ruined you a long time ago, princess.” He says through bated breath, hips snapping harshly. “The moment you met me.”
You can’t argue either. It’s all true.
“Some pretty babe like you, wanting to fuck a freak like me?” It’s a redundant question, but the twinge in your heart hurts. Eddie was one of the most self-deprecating people you knew and it was unfortunate, because he was oblivious to just how good of a person he was; regardless of how he carried himself. “Feels fucking amazing.” He comments off-handedly, eyes locked on the point of connection, watching the way your cunt gripped him so shamelessly.
“Stop—stop talking about yourself like that.” You insist weakly, mewling at the pace he’d set, hands moving higher to rest along your hip bone, his thumbs pressing into the top of your pelvis, like he was trying to hold you there—not that you had any thought to move.
“Fuck, you feel that?” Eddie asks hotly, leaning forward so your knees are nearly pressed to your chest, creating an angle that’s almost unbearable.
You nod desperately, gasp ripping from your chest as he starts a rhythm of slow, deep thrust into you. You find something to hold, settling on the solid chain of his neck, watching as the pick bounced against your hand steadily. “Eddie, I’m gonna—“
“Yeah?” He eggs on, a smile splitting across his face, “you want to, huh?”
Never more in your life than right now, actually.
“Look so pretty this way,” He says, tone flooded with adoration and lust, “like you were made for me.”
You nod dumbly, willing to agree with anything now, so drunk on your own selfish pleasure that he could coerce you into just about anything.
“It’s so special, don’t you think?” Eddie asks, failing to keep his voice steady. He’s a mess of grunt and groans, so close to your face you can feel the breath from his mouth, his lips barely grazing your own. “No one’s had you—had you like this except for me.”
“Only you.” You agree, reveling in the groan that Eddie lets out into your own mouth, his grip fumbling to maneuver you closer, less twisted up as your legs fall to his hips again, letting him chase after his own orgasm, your body just another means to an end—though, it wasn’t ever going to be that for Eddie. “Fuck, Eddie.”
“Want you to come with me, baby.” He tells you, guiding your own hand between the two of you, skin against skin and every touch felt like a shock to your body, a live wire of sexual current as it pulsed through you. You wanted to hear him say it again. Baby, baby, baby.
His hands find your face, gripping the side of it gently, slotting his own mouth of yours, tongue delving into uncharted territory. You weren’t sure if you enjoyed being kissed—or just being kissed by Eddie. He was never halfway about anything, forcing everything he had into whatever he was doing.
It’s the best, most heartbreaking feeling in the world—that he feels like he may lose you, even after all of this.
“Eddie.” You cry gently; it’s the only word you can cling to in moments like this.
“You’re okay,” He soothes, leaning back to lock eyes with you. You want to hide, shrink away into nothing, his gaze so intense and strong that it makes you full body blush, cunt ceasing around him in pleasure, “look at me.”
And you do, face squeezed gently between his hand as he holds you, watching you fall apart beneath him.
“Wanna watch you,” He murmurs against your lips, pulling back at the exact moment you feel yourself lose whatever control you thought you had, moaning lewdly into his mouth until you’re a shaking, mumbling mess, “fuck—I’m close, baby.”
Eddie uses it to urge himself on, grip tightening on your thigh as he pumps into you one last time, harsh and deep, coming with his face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut by how hard the peak of his orgasm hits him.
When you both finally come to, it’s a miracle; a soft exchange of laughs as the realization hits you. Eddie smooths the wild hair out of your face, kissing the very tip of your nose—it feels intimate, a flood of emotions hitting you all at once. You didn’t like this boy, you loved him; it scared the hell out of you.
—
“Cuddling?” You ask, watching as Eddie slings his arm over your middle, pulling you as close as possible. “You’re such a fucking sap.”
Eddie rubs his freshly showered face into the crook of your neck, wet hair slapping you in the face. “Does it bother you?” He laughs, leaving small, lingering pecks along the line of your neck, up behind your ear and into your hair, also wet.
“No.” You smile softly, turning your body until you’re fully snuggled into his shirtless chest, pressing your lips to the jugular notch of his neck, just between his collarbones.
“Good.” He says quietly, fingers winding into your hair, caressing the back of your neck.
Sleep hits Eddie quickly, or so you thought, the soft rumble of his snores like white noise, chest rising and falling rhythmically.
And the words hang on your lips, something you’ve thought over and fought with for weeks, months, the entirety of your friendship—you couldn’t help but love him, and even if you weren’t ready to say it to his face, you could say it to yourself, to this small space between you both, huddled against his resting body.
“I love you.”
It’s so quiet you don't even hear yourself say it—until you realize that it wasn’t you. You peer up at him, eyes still closed.
“I have for a while,” He admits, startling you further. He peeks an eye open, smiling at how mortified you look, “but I didn’t want to scare you—“
“I love you.” You say before you can talk yourself out of it, “I love you, too—and not just because of this, Eddie. I need you to know that.”
He does.
And he feels the impending ramble coming, but silences it with a kiss—so deep and intimate that you want to cry, pulling back with tear brimmed eyes.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me.” He reminds you, his voice hushed and quiet in the small space shared between you, “I’m always going to be here, no matter how you feel about me or how I feel about you.”
Eddie senses your anxiety, soothing the worry from your face, thumb smooth over your furrowed brow in a successful attempt to calm you.
“You’re stuck with me,” He tells you, full intention to never lose you, “for life, sweetheart.”
Summary: “I got 2 tickets to Iron Maiden baby, come with me Friday, don’t say maybe.”~ you and your boyfriend finish your record store date late at night. The van doors are open, Iron Maiden is playing, and the empty schools parking lot is in view. and thank goodness it’s empty [10k words]
Includes: van sex, pervy eddie, masochist eddie, power sub eddie, (he’s in a submissive position, but he’s in charge sometimes. so semi-switch eddie too) eddie has scars from ST4, reader smokes a cig, finger sucking (reader), briefly choking eddie, praise kink, some nipple play, some dirty talk, safe sex, slight exhibitionism, eddie being a dorky metal head
The proof that summer is ending in Hawkins shows in the cool night air. Tonight really is cooler than most nights, which is why Eddie made sure to bring an extra blanket for the van. You’re both sitting across from each other with the 2 large back doors swung wide open, letting in the crisp air and exposing the starry night sky with the yellow glow of street lamps.
Your legs are straight, and slightly parted on top of his, one ankle on each side of his hips. His lean and black ripped jean covered legs are also parted, letting you sit between them as his back rests against the inside wall of the van. His scuffed white rebook shoes occasionally tap your sides as he rolls his ankles open and closed, side to side. He really can’t keep his whole body still at all.
eddie taking you nice and slow in the back of his van ugh need
Need indeed 🫡
Your Van in the Field
Warnings: 18+ explicit content. MDNI.
Unprotected PinV (wrap it). Oral (f). Weed. Mutual pining. Possessiveness I guess but it’s from a loving place. Sexual markings. Sprinkles of praise, biting, hair pulling and finger sucking? We flirt with dacryphilia in this. Fluffy fluff fluff.
AN: Sooooo I got incredibly carried away with this and don’t know if it’s the vibe you wanted but I tried my best and this is what happened 😅 tysm for this idea! 🫶 idek if I hate this or not? Very long waffles, like wtf am I going on about, but we move x
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
Rain. It hits the leaves in the field around him with pitter patters that harmonise with the soft clunks to his van. Nature’s tiny bullets firing at the disrupter to its parched soil. It had been hot in Hawkins, uncharacteristically so. Blades of grass had yellowed and flowers grew weary in the heat, bowing their heads in surrender to the sun. It felt how it feels right before you need a good shower of rain.
And now: green. Green showed the life of plants being quenched and the hope of air being cleared, although right now the humidity was thick. Kind of like the staleness of the air prior was putting up a fight, staking it’s claim on this land…but hey, maybe that was just the weed talking. Whatever it was, it frizzed his hair up.
He lay in the back of his van and it was quiet - likewise, uncharacteristically so. He liked the rain. Liked to hear it, watch it, smell it - it made everything seem so fresh and replenished. It felt calming to him and it was one of the only times he’d keep the radio off. Although, it was off more and more as of late.
He’d decked his van out when the rain started to hit more. When you started to visit more. Blankets and pillows - none of which matched each other, making his ol’ faithful look cluttered and a bit offensive to the eye with the array of fabrics and textures accenting the tarnish of oranges and greens, some navy and black to add to the senses too. But it was comfortable, and you favoured a plush sage green cushion that he kept to one side incase he was lucky enough to see you.
He had one burnt orange pillow tucked behind his own head, and one leg crossed the other as he hummed softly. He took a long drag of his joint, watching the paper disintegrate in red embers and crinkle away as he inhaled before blowing out slowly, the smoke dancing above his head as it almost became the same mist that housed the humidity.
He didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d rolled one specially for you, telling himself it was for him later. And that he just kept it on your pillow so it wouldn’t be on the floor. The same floor that he’d covered in knitted blankets with different sized holes in them for what he liked to call character, not because you were a sucker for coziness and got cold feet. And he definitely told himself that the cardigan that you left here that time, the one that he tied around the back of his seat’s headrest, was there as a reminder to himself to give it back to you. You know, this time. He’d forgotten the last four times - he had! He swears it. He also leaves the little wild flowers you brought the other day shrivelling on his dash because it would be rude to get rid of them, not because when he looks at them he feels like you brought him flowers. Definitely not.
He couldn’t quite believe his luck that first afternoon - it had been raining then too, but was gloomy and cold. His offer to drive you home had been a stroke of courage he only found when he’d seen you alone, coat over your head ready as you pondered the best plan of action to run home in the rain. You worked in the cafe next to the mechanic shop he made his best of a living in (he took the job for Wayne, but secretly now loved it) and so seeing the familiar face made you bashfully accept his offer. He’d always been nice to you, of course. ‘Black coffee with three sugars to go cute guy from next door’
You’d chit chatted quietly to one another, politely at first, the rain’s song keeping any awkward silences at bay…until you’d started to make each other laugh. Until you drove past the pizza place you said did ‘the best pizza ever!’ and it happened to be his favourite too. Until before either of you knew it, you were sat in the back of his van, both damp with sodden pizza boxes discarded. And soon those boxes sat empty save a few crusts, the chats and laughs had turned into gazes that lingered with testing touches to arms and legs, which somehow led to kisses - new and unfamiliar, but teasing and excited. Small pecks at first until mouths opened and tongues squirmed. Until his lips were hot at your chill-bitten cheeks as they ghosted your face, thawing the skin, and your hands were warming the back of his neck. Fire in your bellies keeping you warm. Until he didn’t know where the line was, and neither did you, as to what you could both do next.
Until he really did need to take you home, as it had somehow passed midnight.
And from then? From then he parks his van here. The little spot in a quaint field by some trees - the same one where you’d shared pizza and kisses. And then one day shared music and cuddles. Another time, you’d shared bodies and fucked like bunnies into the night. The passings of seasons had seen many, many meetings where you’d unwrapped each other like presents, surprises and things to learn inside both mind and body - until that one night where you’d laughed so gleefully and for so long that both of your side’s had ached…and it happened. Without either of you knowing it, that time you both shared love. Like two teenagers who didn’t know better. And like teenagers, you danced around the topic, neither knowing what you meant to the other.
You had come to see him in the end, of course; the magnet pulling you back to the van in the field like always. You’d gently tapped the metal of the doors and god, you could practically feel your eyes light up when he lifted his head up to see who was there. If you were a cartoon, hearts would have popped from your sockets and you mentally chastised yourself for it. He grinned at the sight of you, shuffling up onto his elbows.
“Hi, I brought sandwiches” you beamed, presenting a plastic bag that was dripping with water before carefully removing some of the blanket area to place it down without getting them wet. He noted the way your clothes clung to you, and the wetness that held your hair, water droplets collecting at the end of the strands and soaking into your work blouse.
He was positively thrilled to see you. As always. He itched to wrap you up in him, the minimal space between you causing him actual harm - but he also itched to get you out of those clothes. It’s funny, really, but times like these are when he knows that this has definitely shifted from physical to emotional. Yes, of course he wanted you out of your attire for his own selfish reasons, your body his heaven and he was certain he’d done something incredibly noble in a past life to deserve to see it the way he does…but his first thought was to prevent you getting sick more than anything else.
So he listened when you told him about your day, and how you acquired all the sandwiches that had been ordered for some event and it had fallen through. And you listened as he told you about his day. You giggled at him when he told you about the royal fuck up he made on Mrs Up-Tight’s car bill and how he was definitely going to be sued as well as fired and then tortured and murdered when she found out.
And then he’d suggested it. Clothes off so they can attempt to dry. Please and thank you.
“I have nothing to change into” you’d pointed out after finishing a bite of a sandwich.
“You think I have all these blankets around for decor?”
“Well, it’s definitely not for decor” you smirked, eyeing the clash of colour, and he chucked a crust at you.
And with that, a bit too eagerly, you’d agreed on ‘naked blanket cuddles’.
“Ah ah - I wanna do it” he told you as your fingers went to the button of your pants, making ridiculously cute grabby hands at you, which made you faux roll your eyes as you come to stand in front of him. He shuffled onto his knees and you earned a pinch to your sides for that ‘sass’ as he’d call it, followed by a playful but scolding nip from his teeth at your hip as he began to drag the material down your legs. As if he’d started something he had to finish, his soft bites became a gentle suckle, and then pillowy lips latched harder and sucked their mark into your skin.
He undressed you like you were an intricate piece in a museum; like you were precious and expensive. The new bruise that bloomed on your hip almost seemed corruptive, like a vandalism of art, and it made his brain short circuit to see it there. But he handled you with such care that it sometimes had your eyes stinging with the threats of tears - featherlight touches he’d chase with his nose and lips, eyes closed as though savouring.
It would be easier to swallow any tears down when he’d make you huff laughs with things like walking his two fingers up your legs and talking to your thighs like they were people outside of you, a gentle hand squashing your face to one side as he whispered something beautifully dumb like ‘sssshhh, we weren’t talking to you’ before he’d trace his lips slow against your skin to leave another delicate bruise into the flesh inside. A fresh burial to a graveyard of his hickeys.
Now listen, he loved leaving his marks on you. Loved that you loved them. Loved remembering your escapades that caused them when he found them again, and so did you as you’d trace them fondly in the shower of a night. But, honestly? He also loved that while you were allowing him to visibly litter you in his affections, it meant that you probably weren’t letting anyone else see them. Nobody else settled between your thighs on nights he didn’t see you. He liked to think of himself as an easy going, not overly possessive guy - but then he met you, and the thought of you with anyone else knocked his stomach. And so ultimately, he keeps marking his territory.
Not that you’re his, of course. After all, you’re not together. He’s cool and breezy about the situation. You can see other guys if you want…’cause you’re not together. Completely your choice. As long as you’re happy. That’s totally cool. He takes it back, he just thinks hickeys are fun and you like them too and that’s it…because you’re not together and…
And if you are seeing other guys, he hopes they choke and die.
You knew none of his inner turmoil. You just saw the goofball talking to your thighs while biting and kissing at them, like normal. Making you lightheaded with the feel of his mouth but laugh with the tone of his words. But wow, he could also be so quick to turn things overwhelmingly sensual. Intense eyes upon you, the teasing glint glazing over with something a fraction away from lust: want. Plain and simple. He wanted you. From goofball to lover in seconds, but always beautifully himself.
He swiped his nose over your underwear covered clit that throbbed as if standing to attention, and he planted a soft kiss there before he attached his mouth over the fabric and exhaled, deep and controlled. Your body jolted at the hot air that seeped into your cunt before he hooked his fingers into the waistband and peeled the cotton from you.
He lightly pressed at your hip, guiding you back against the metal side of the van and following you towards it on his knees. He reached his hands up to pop open each button he could reach on your blouse, ghosting his fingers back down your stomach and leaving tingles chasing in their wake. You left the cheap work shirt on, just unbuttoned and open, bra peeking out from it’s curtains. He lifted your leg up and over his shoulder, calf and foot trailing down his back and he sponged a kiss to your knee before his lips ghosted at the flesh of your thigh, now cushioned in the junction of his shoulder.
He obviously left more of his marks as he went. He couldn’t help it - but he tried to be kind about it at least. Gentle, gentle, gentle until he lost himself in mouthing at you, and his teeth closed around your skin hard. You hissed out a gasp and he couldn’t help a smirk against you. Hickeys had a loving undercurrent of motive, he thought, but faint bruises in the shape of his shallow bite welts? They were purely just for his fun (and lack of self restraint) - they made his cock twitch.
Hearing your noises from above, even a ‘please’ sneaking from you, his patience run wore thin and he let out a soft groan before burying his tongue inside you. He lapped at you with purpose, and that purpose was to taste. It wasn’t desperate, though, more like content as he hummed into your centre, his tongue flat and steady as it licked a long stripe from your entrance to clit before swirling at the swollen bud. He sucked you into his mouth gently and he shook his head languidly from side to side and your body was spasming with the lightness in his touches, just how he knew you liked it. You were grinding down lazily onto his face and letting out noises that were fucking sinful but oh so lovely for him to hear. The hand he gripped your thigh with tightened to keep you to him, his goal of your orgasm in mind.
“I-fuck-I knew naked blanket cuddles were a ploy” you strained out, voice all high and breathy, your hand covering his that had snaked around to grope at the softness of your ass. He pulled away, a cocktail of your slick and his saliva stringing from you to his mouth and he nodded, tutting and eyebrows raising. Mock sympathy laced through the action.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to stop?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and resting it on your thigh.
“Don’t you dare” you admonished, hooking your leg firmer to keep him where he was. You fastened your fingers to his hand that covered the flesh of your ass and dragged it towards your centre, which had him scoffing as he ran his fingers through your folds, dipping one into your entrance and pumping carefully.
“Thought so” he teased, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck you from them. It was the sexiest thing you think you’ve ever witnessed - it made you pause and take a minute to really look at the man between your legs: literally kneeling for you, hair a frayed disarray of a halo around him, lips puffy and glistening with you - it had you clenching around nothing. Your chest flooded, and god you were so in love.
Wait, what?
No. No, no, no. That would be foolish, wouldn’t it? You’re just casual. Easy breezy. Nothing serious and that was fine. And he probably wouldn’t want anything more anyway. No strings was best, for sure.
Your fingers come to comb through his hair, but your heart suddenly swells before your brain could work out why, stopping you from pulling him back into you momentarily. And the reason? Nothing short of ridiculous. It was that immediately you’d felt the texture change and it made you feel giddy, like a lovesick puppy because…your man’s hair gets frizzy in the humidity. That had your hormones fizzing. Ridiculous.
The logic in your brain hissed at you, saying that he wasn’t your man and how this new information was unbelievably stupid and unimportant - literally who cares about hair - but the heartstrings clearly in control here pulled at the mechanics of the corner of your mouth, and before you could stop it you were smiling down at him.
Oh yeah. You were in love with this man. Pathetically so. No doubt about it.
Fuck.
It was only the feeling of his tongue back on your clit that snapped you out of your trance. Two fingers in a ‘V’ to splay you apart for him as he attacked the swollen bud. Your head thumped back against the tin behind you, fingers tightening in his endearingly frizzy hair and you felt him push your leg on his shoulder open wider to spread you without needing his hands, because he was needing them to sink his ring clad finger into your centre. Crooking upwards, a soft moan rose from you as he found that spot - the one that had you reeling and had your legs quaking as they turned to mush. His tongue was relentless as he matched the new faster pace by entering a second finger as he suckled on your clit, and he was humming out in satisfaction at your mewls, the vibration against you exquisite.
Grinding your hips against his face with vigour, you chanced another peek down at the man who was wrecking you, and that’s when you came. His eyes were already on you, watching your every reaction to be sure he had you where he wanted you, and it was a beautiful clash of deep mahogany eyes mixing with the purple blossoms on your thigh. Your orgasm prickled over you and your body tensed as it went, back arching and grip a vice in his roots. He didn’t mind - he was moaning just as loud as you were at this point. Your chest heaved as you came down, literally, leg puddling beneath you and you let it happen. Sliding down the side of the van meant you got to be closer to him anyway.
Face to face now, you couldn’t help but kiss him. A messy, dirty kiss where the desperation flowed through you both like an electric current. Both of you buzzing. Your hands flew to his belt and you tugged him closer with it, pulling at the leather and clinking open the buckle, a ‘thwip' clipping the air as you slid it from its loops. You were both on your knees now, and your hands were incessant in feeling him, tickling the skin of his back before sweeping to his front in a cycle, before your nails settled to scratch at the bristle of hair that led into his jeans. His hands were tangled into your locks as he continued licking into your mouth, and he groaned at the idea of you tasting yourself from him.
“Off” you mumbled through kisses, popping the button and struggling to pull the jeans down his legs.
“I thought you just wanted to cuddle?” He jested in despite of his actions. He was pulling your head by your hair to one side to kiss you deeper, before sliding his wet lips down to your neck and beginning to leave his featherlight love there.
“Naked blanket cuddles, remember? You started this” you bit, but it left you breathless when he licked a long stripe up your neck, “please? I need you closer”
Shot. Right through the chest. Those simple words leaving your mouth like a bullet from the barrel of a gun and cracking him through his ribcage. Tearing him open and leaving his heart bared and vulnerable. In that moment, he knew a scary truth that didn’t really make sense, but he knew that you could have anything from him. Anything that you might ask for or want? You’d have it. He’d bleed for you, and that was slightly terrifying because you weren’t official, and he told himself that you probably didn’t even want to be. But you’re asking for him to be closer, and of course he’ll oblige. It’s impossible for him not to. But fuck it if he didn’t need you close too - right now and all times outside of that.
So, he let you undress him. Because he’d let you do anything you wanted. Break him into a thousand pieces for all he cared, as long as it was your hands doing the smashing, but he never feared that as your tenderness with him always rendered him speechless. He’d watch with his big doe eyes as your fingers and mouth would lightly trace over his tattoos and skin, disbelieving every time that this amount of thought was going into him by you. He felt seen when you were around him, and he would always feel fire behind your touch; you made him spark. He swears you can feel when a person is made for you - your body tells you so.
And when you kissed finally, everything just stopped.
Naked bodies flush under the heap of blankets, sage green and burnt orange pillows next to each other in the van beneath you, fingers wandering and tongues exploring what they already know but have become obsessed with mapping. The rain outside white noise, but also intensifying everything - every whimper felt private and concealed, like it was really just for the two of you under the coat of nature hiding you both away.
It wasn’t rushed. None of it. You treated each other like you had all the time in the world, touching each other with slow hands and mouths meshed together to just enjoy kissing. Switches from the ghosting of lips to hungry and hot - over and over. You were laying side by side, his arms tangled around you and yours in his new bushy hair, and he’d drawn your leg up and over his waist which you’d then firmly secured around him. It was almost like you thought he’d pull back if you didn’t keep him there - which was crazy, he thought, because he was going nowhere ever again.
“I missed you” he mumbled out in between kisses, an admission that he poured from his mouth into yours only, not even the air around was deserving of a drop. Though your smile was sugar sweet, your eyes held a sparkle that had his mind spinning, and you weren’t sure if your hips had started to rock against him before or after his sentiment - but they were now and he signed into your mouth as he jutted his own hips, feeling his cock prod the warm mess between those thighs he loved so goddam much.
“I missed you, too” you whispered back, one of your hands coming to thumb at his cheek. You felt the smooth skin, but noticed the small bumps of imperfection and blemishes under your pad and enjoyed feeling him so beautifully human. You reached down after a while and let your fingers wrap around his cock, earning a hitch of breath from him as you stroked him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip before fondling a little at his balls too (you loved his cock, but his balls were your favourite to play with, if you were being honest. They got him sensitive and desperate). He let out a groan, tipping his head upwards to revel in your touch and when you attached your lips to his neck and suctioned your way up and down, it had him fucking shuddering.
“Let me taste you now” you nipped against his goosebump risen skin and it smelled of pure him, it made your mouth and centre pool, but he shook his head slowly. He wanted that, christ, he really did - but he knew if you got your mouth stuffed full of him he’d be cumming embarrassingly quickly with how riled up he felt, and he wanted to be inside of you.
“Won’t last baby, need to split you open - fuck” he was cut off by you running his length through your dripping folds, his cock sitting pretty along the seam of you and you began to rock your hips, your slick glazing his shaft like syrup as you slid forward and back, whining when his leaking tip would catch your clit. Two bundles of nerves shocking upon contact.
Annnd…he was fucked. Gasping for air already. He could feel the wetness and heat from your cunt clasp to him like the humidity stifled the van. Everything seemed to get hotter, and the rain seemed to bounce heavier. He moved his hips with you, his fingers coming to sift through your hair at your temples before they curled into fists and gripped at the strands. He smiled at your gasp, using your roots as handles to pull your head away from him slightly to see your face, and he shook his head again. This time, an act of awe.
“Fuckin’ beautiful” he breathed out , eyes scanning over your face with blown pupils and a small crease in his brow, “wanna feel you - please, please, please” and each ‘please’ was punctuated with a kiss to your cheeks.
And now it was your turn to have the air punched out of you. That was the thing with him, he knew how to melt you down into molten liquid that bubbled and frothed at his touches - but he could also be just as malleable for you, and luckily, he knew it made you crazy. Like when he pleaded for you? Flutters. To the heart and elsewhere.
The subtle pull at your hair paired with his words was his way of saying ‘put me inside’ without having to say it, and it didn’t take much guiding for him to easily sink into your gummy walls. You might have teased him for his impatience in another scenario, but somehow it didn’t feel right to interrupt the discussion happening between atmosphere and bodies.
A little twist of your hips had him bottoming out inch by glorious inch, your hair still threaded between his knuckles and he grazed your temple with a thumb; eyes trained on each other as he embedded himself deep within your body. His mouth was mirroring yours unbeknownst to him, every gasp and drop of your jaw he mimicked without even realising - two bodies really becoming one it felt, as you could no longer tell where he ended and you began.
A shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding stuttered from you, because although you were more than ready enough for him to nestle inside, there was always an ache to the stretch his cock moulded into you. It had you feeling so fucking full, wincing slightly at the intrusion that contradicted the way your cunt gushed around him happily - but he always stayed still until you gave some sort of signal. Every. Damn. Time. You knew from experience not a lot of guys did that, just ramming in and out regardless, blissfully unaware of any discomfort you may feel, so it always made everything…nicer when he did it. Made you feel safer. Respected. Like he was more tuned in to you. Cared more, understood more - it was like he wanted this to be good for you.
Good for you. Just like he always was.
So you told him so. Told him how good he made you feel, how perfect he felt inside. How he was made for you, and how you thought you must be made for him too with how well he fills you. “So, so good for me.” your voice cooed into his ear, and he almost lost it when you uttered a “thank you”. You told him while pressing love into the skin on his face. Your lips a sponge compressing soothing affection to his emotional scars. Healing.
A whine whistled at the back of his throat at your praise. He told you that he tried, that he wanted to be good for you because you’re always so good for him: taking him so well, letting him mark you up even though he knows you like it, for sounding so pretty when you cum for him - and because he knew it made you crazy, a little degradation always tickling a part of you, he thanked you for letting him use you up like this.
It had you beating around his cock, causing throaty groans to rumble from him which made your stomach sear with nothing other than arousal. It always felt like he was back where he belonged whenever you’d keep him snug within your walls, your blood running so hot it could be cold at the thought of you being able to pull sounds like that from him simply because he “can feel you squeezin’ me, fuck”. He released your hair and it left your scalp stinging, but only in mourning for his touch, which he offered relief from when he connected your foreheads.
You were wrapped around his cock so tight he felt himself needing to choke. He felt himself shiver when you started to pepper your kisses to his face. Gifting him with them like you couldn’t help but and it had you humming, all content and happy. When he pulled you even tighter against him, a small thought of logic in the back of his head somewhere feared breaking you, but the rest of his brain couldn’t resist you being this close. Your lips traced the shell of his ear, and the flicker of your soft moans whisped into him, your breath fanning at his skin and setting his body static and…well, he might have been embarrassed at the pathetic noise that tickled the back of his throat if it had escaped.
His hips struggled not to buck and you could feel it, the small tremors in his muscles as he fought against the urge to pound into you. You knew it was time for him to move - no, you needed it to be time for him to move, the ache of stretch having turned into an ache of need that throbbed around him. So, you sucked his earlobe into your mouth, suckling lazily at the flesh that felt cold on your tongue and you wiggled your hips gently: a nudge. Your signal to him. Move.
There were times he might be in a certain mood, and he’d work you up to get you all flustered and desperate, refusing to move to see if he could pull some begging out of you. But right now, he knew it wasn’t that kind of night - he didn’t want it to be. He just heeded your request, pulling out fractionally to dip back up into you, the head of him already grazing that beautiful spot that had your toes curling and a dazed smile spreading across your features. The noise you let out was almost one of relief, and you felt the pillow of his cheek gather slightly beneath yours, the tell tale sign he was smiling too.
He set a steady pace, enticing a push and pull of gasps and a chorus of shaky, thoughtless noises of pleasure. Gentle hands accompanied by faces that smush into each other’s like doves might nuzzle on a concrete balcony in the sunset, one where it’s quiet despite the bustle of the city below - it was so personal that it almost made you shy. The rain continued it’s fall outside of the van and the blankets around you felt sensitive as the fabric brushed against your skin, almost overstimulating as the only feel or sound you wanted was him.
He gave a much harder thrust and your head lolled back, a moan pushing through your chest like his cock had punched it from you. Delightedly, his lips were on the column of your throat like he’d been waiting for it forever, his teeth grazing lightly at your skin and sloppy kisses being mouthed there. He held back though, remembering your agreement: no marks on your neck.
He maintained his firmer movements, hard slams in but slow and dragging pulls out. He could feel everything. Every ridge that lined you and coated him. The way you clung to him and cried out had his own toes curling, and the only thing stopping him from filling you to the fucking brim was distraction. So he ducked down and lapped at your nipple before moving to sink his teeth into the side of your breast. Not hard enough to be painful, but enough to make you sing and keep him busy with something other than pumping you full. And christ, you were whiny. Clutching at his hair with merciless fingers and voice cracking every now and then. So, of course, he continued his dizzying movements.
Over and over and over again.
Desire took over him and the more you arched back, the more he tipped over you, fucking himself further and further into your cunt as he followed. Now writhing beneath him, his hand grips your leg to drag you completely under, spreading you wide to continue the bullying of your spot. His waves engulf you as you lay on the sea bed ready for the current to sweep you with it - happy to have him drown you. But it was you that drowned him as the lewd noises filled the room, his cock squelching through your cream. It would’ve been mortifying if it wasn’t so fucking sexy for both of you to hear. In fact, it had him panting out a “fuck, listen to that” as he cast his eyes to where you met to get a good look.
The way his cock plunges into you, his heavy presses into your magical spongey area, it had you mewling and twitching into him. He draped his body over you, and used his whole weight to push deeper. Deeper than you thought he could get, rolling his hips with a skill that he’d mastered especially for you. His hands had come to cradle the top of your head, his shoulders framing you and his forearms holding him up. You’re wrapping your arms and legs around his torso and pulling, grappling at him so that as much as your skin was connected to his as possible. Smoothing your hands down the expanse of his back, you whimper as you feel the muscles ripple under your touch, his body wracking with each ragged breath he takes; it has your heels digging into the soft of his ass, causing his pubic bone and thatch of hair to brush deliciously against your clit.
“Fuck, angel, takin’ me so well. Like me close, huh?” he rasped into your ear, a groan following his sentiment as your walls quivered around him. It was the ‘angel’ that did it this time. You loved him calling you his little nicknames - internal squealing causing havoc in your chest whenever it happened. Nodding, a small ‘mmhmm’ squeaks from the back of your throat, pathetically really, and you dig your hands into his hair to bring his lips to yours as if to prove it - suddenly needing to taste him more than anything.
The hot kiss which was all tongues and teeth reflexively bucks your hips, and you rotate them up to join his rhythm when you hear the growl that thunders from his throat and the teeth that puncture your lower lip - not enough to draw blood, but honestly? You don’t think you’d care if it did. It had you both panting out gasps and thankful cries which in turn had that very same tongue and teeth kiss turning into lips that lingered as frantic breathing merged into one between you; literally oxygenating you both, it seemed, and you clutched at each other with a tenderness that went against its desperate motives.
His hand laced through yours and slid up to pin your arm above your head, his other hand still at the top of your head but his fingers were weaving themselves back into your hair and tugging with strength that was just enough. The pressure his hips were driving into you was shockingly enough for your climax to tip-toe up on you, coil forming like a heavy swarm of flutters in your stomach. But, of course, he knew that. He could read it from your body - or his fingers would’ve been toying with your clit ten minutes ago. It was difficult to breathe in the best way, and he was cooing his soft “so pretty for me”s and “love seeing you like this”s into your ear.
But the man who knew more about your body than anyone, the man who could play you like his instrument…when he panted out your name, it was like he both didn’t realise he’d said it and like he hesitantly wanted to get your attention. It was unsure…but he was never unsure with you. You replied with a ‘hmm?’ all breathy and sweet, and when he didn’t answer you, you peeled open your eyes that you hadn’t realised you’d shut - and there he was, looking down at you. He was flushed and it bled into his chest, eyes blown black and lips blushed and puffy with an expression of…admiration? Desperation? Realisation? Worry? You couldn’t quite work it out, and your brow furrowed faintly as your hand brushed caresses his face.
Another pant of your name, as if building himself up for something, but he was quiet when he began, “I…I think…”
He nearly said it. He really very nearly fucking said it. And he didn’t think, he knew. Those three words prickling at the tip of his tongue like it was a wrestle against whether the muscle formed them or not. It was too soon, wasn’t it? It was also ridiculous, right? You weren’t even together. He just knew that the times you visited him in his van were his new favourites. That he missed you more than anything on days you didn’t arrive. The days that your shifts were swapped or the days that you had other plans. The days you didn’t know that he waited here after his shifts, just incase. He just knew that he nearly fucking said it, and he really fucking meant it.
He also knew that your fingertips were scorching him, branding him as yours in a way that he doesn’t even think you realise.
“You think?” You offered gently. His pace had slowed back to his initial shallow dips as he stared down at you, eyes flitting between yours - but he felt your once spasming walls start to relax back to a hug around his cock and knew he was losing the orgasm he really wanted to get you to.
So he chickened out. Of course he did.
“I-I think you need to finish before I do, sweetheart. Getting hard to hold on over here” coward.
Your eye twitched and he grew cautious as a kind smile was presented to him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew. You knew he wanted to say something else, but before you could press it further he quickly picked his pace back up to that eye rolling pressure in a way that was so sudden it took you by surprise. His hand left the nest of your hair and flew to your leg, hitching it higher than the other up his torso and that’s when he really started to fuck into you.
Your nails dug into his hand that you held as his hips slammed hard, and he brought his free palm to rest at your throat. He wasn’t squeezing, but he knew you loved feeling the heat of his hand on such a sensitive area, and he was right as he watched your head crane back so he could cover the skin of your neck more. It wasn’t too fast, but the firmness about his thrusts had you crying out. Had your brain emptying of any coherent thoughts. It felt amazing, and you were on cloud nine, but he was busy trying to find that button to press that makes you light up. That makes you shatter.
A shift. To the left. A bit further up. He knows it’s here somewhere - he feels it swell and pulse against his head every time he’s tucked inside of you. His teeth grit to keep his composure at the way your ridged walls pull at his cock….a tiny extra angle of his hips up and…
There.
Your mouth hangs open and fingers skim with claws bared to dig into his shoulder, etching angry, red lines there and so naturally, he pounds into it. He can’t help but grin when he hears your noises cut off, a silent moan echoing somewhere inside, jaw stuck open on its hinges, but he quickly takes advantage of your mouth being agape. Fingers on your neck come to slot in between your lips and he groans when you suck on them without being told. Coating and drooling around them as you whine from the back of your throat. He takes his fingers away from you, and you try to follow them which makes him chuckle almost incredulously - because goddam he can’t believe it’s him making you feel this way - before he’s rushing to swirl circles into your clit and that’s when he knows he’s got you on your way.
The cry that was trying to break free finally emanates from your lungs and seems to seep through your entire being as you grip at him in every sense. Arm tight, hand cutting the circulation off in his, legs wrapped, cunt a vice. You’re still making your pretty sounds beneath him, and he sees your glossy eyes and knows he’ll probably bring those tears out when you cum. His cock twitches inside of you. There’s a part of him he worries is fucked up, because he wants to make you wail. Wants to make you to cling to him and cry heavily and it could be any time now - he knows you’re close, your walls being charged with fucking asphyxiation of his dick.
“Oh, I can feel that. C’mon, let me feel you soak me” he whispers down to you, and he didn’t realise how forcefully he’d been pressing into you until you choke a ‘don’t stop’ and your free arm is flinging above your head to brace yourself against the back of the van seats that he’d nearly fucked you into, moving you across the floor with every strong delivery of his hips. His fingers speed up their circles to your pulsing nub and you use the new leverage as resistance to gyrate back down onto him; his jaw could break its that tense trying to hold out for you.
Your breast are jiggling for attention as they bounce with every slap of his hips into you, and so he obliges their silent plea, mouth watering as he laves his tongue over the pebbled bud of your nipple. An almost pained noise leaves you: it’s the wail he wanted. The dam breaks and he pants against your chest, resting his forehead there as he feels your body quake and seize as your orgasm crashes into you. Your nails scrape down the material of the seat your hand still clutches to, and he loves that he has you wrapped around both of his seats. Your cardigan still hanging from the back of his and you clinging for dear life to the other.
He pulls his head up to watch you writhe and shake beneath him and doesn’t even realise his hips still. Too overtaken with the view he has to even think about his own orgasm. He’s in-fucking-fatuated with you, and he could just melt at the fact that he still holds your hand securely in his as you fuck yourself on him through your high. The rain outside still trickles down the windows of his van like the slick down the insides of your thighs and the sweat down your neck.
He notes that he was right, stray tears that avoided the puddling on your cheeks raced their way into your hairline. Rain into grass. Tears into hair. You’re crying for him like the sky does for it’s ground. Sobbing as your chest wracks from the overwhelming feelings ricocheting around your body. His cock is straining and he doesn’t know whether to hate himself for it, but you look so pretty with your glazed eyes and splotched skin. God, in this moment, his own emotions are too much for him, and he doesn’t know whether to cry himself or absolutely fucking ruin you, and he ponders it while tacking his thumb fondly at the diamonds on your skin, bringing the glitter to his mouth and sucking, tasting the salt.
He’s so caught up in you and that fact that he was able to give you that orgasm so intense that it made tears stain your face, that it makes his body pliant when you bend your leg around his waist and use the momentum to topple him over onto his back, sitting pretty atop of him as your overstimulation screams - but you want him to cum more than anything, and so you bounce. You ignore the protest that burns your thighs as you drop your hips down with purpose, hearing the squelch of your bodies and his eyes are rolling, noises from him filthy. His hands come to your hips and they grab bruisingly, pushing and pulling to assist you in your movements and you swell with pride as his head drops back with a clunk and a loud groan rips through his chest.
“Need you to cum, wanna feel you fill me” you purr down to him, lip popping to a pout and hand coming to rest on his chest, the other mimicking his earlier move and resting at his throat. And just like that, there’s a spasm of his hips and a tense of his abdomen beneath you. His warmth is coating your walls and it has your cunt locking down around him, taking everything he has from him. Milking him for all he’s worth.
His face is a picture - more than that, it’s art. You can’t help reach one hand out to let your fingers trace him. Over his sweat glistening forehead, over his swollen lips that you smush around slightly, flipping your hand so the back of it runs down his cheek. His eyes are lulling and he’s puffing deep breaths as his fingers remain cemented into the flesh of your hips. His chest is heaving…and then it’s shaking as he lets out a joyous laugh.
“Holy shit” he huffs a little exhale of a chuckle, clearly spent, and you giggle back down at him as he finally lets go of your hips that he’s marked with finger shaped marks, your skin sticking to his fingers slightly before they separate. He paws at your wrists to pull you down to lay flat atop of him, the feeling of your breasts on his bare chest has you both sighing and you didn’t expect to be pulled in for a kiss, but the sloppy, lazy smooch you were now a part of was one you couldn’t help but bask in.
Your face tracing resumes, with the added feature of playing with the ends of his hair once you’d pulled back. His softening cock slips from you, and it makes you wince at the feeling of emptiness. You shiver at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, and he must’ve thought you were cold as he pulled the blankets higher around you and reached for the joint that, in the end, did find the floor - and that’s how you were for the rest of the night. Passing the joint back and forth between you, listening to each others voices or just the rain as you kissed and held each other, feeling skin brush against skin. Soft squeals as he’d tickle your sides and gentle gasps as you’d nibble on his neck.
You didn’t want your time to be up with him, but soon you were feeding the last of the sandwiches to his ready and waiting open mouth as he eyed the road he was driving you back home on, the rain spattering and spitting at the windscreen and bouncing off the concrete. Although he didn’t really have crumbs to clear, you’d affectionately swipe at the corners of his mouth after he’d finish the section you’d fed him, and he’d chase a peck to your palm.
You were down bad.
It was suffocating. Your chest hurt sometimes to look at him with all the emotions that bubbled under the surface. And what’s worse is, you felt like you knew what he was going to say before. You ached to hear it, because then you’d know it wasn’t too soon for you to say it. And shit, you fought daily not to slip and spill your secret to him. But honestly? Did you care at this point? Your van rendezvous had turned into the highlights of your weeks. You’d impatiently watch the clock tick on your shift, the shifts where time had started to stand still, only for your stomach to shock with electricity with every step you took to your van that was always waiting in your little field for you.
Your van. Your little field.
Bad. Very, very bad.
What was this to him? It didn’t feel like hook ups in the back of his van. It didn’t feel like you were just a quick fuck. But…even you were, you don’t think you could stop.
But no. There’s something about the twinkle in his eye when he looks at you, isn’t there? You can feel the charge behind it and it’s almost too much to maintain any sort of eye contact when his brown orbs are burning into you. Gleaming like a clear night sky, stars glittering on their canvas. There’s something about the way he holds you, touches you. The way your bodies writhe together and the way he responds to your touches - you’ve noticed the hitches in his breath and watched the goosebumps that cheat his skin. It’s the way you laugh together, and it’s definitely the way his dimple is giving him away as he attempts to bite back the shy smile at the pad of your thumb swiping at his mouth, selling him out to the point he had to kiss your palm quick to mask it.
And so when he pulls up outside your house and you make to go inside, like many a night before and what you hope is many a night after, it’s out of your mouth before your brain even has time to stop it. Before it manages to cage it to keep it safe, frantically grappling to fortify your emotions and arm you. But the secret is impatient, and it’s been brewing and plotting. Swarming like a silent poison in your veins, it’s been tricking your tongue to act against its sanctuary and work on fighting rationality - escaping it’s clutches. Because, that’s the point isn’t it? It’s not rational. It never could be rational and it’s played to it’s strengths. It thanked the humid air and drizzle that made you feel less alone and prayed on your vulnerability to the moment.
And, it was the only thing that cut through the protection that nature provided you as soon as it left your lips. Clearing the air and drying it up just like the saliva in your mouth. Nerves settling and making everything static.
You kissed him like normal. A long, passionate kiss that had you licking into each other’s mouths and nuzzling noses, dropping gentle pillows of lips in pecks afterwards as if you couldn’t get enough. Quite frankly, it was sickeningly gross. But you were too happy to care.
“Bye” you slotted between pecks.
“Bye” he’d replied, eyes still closed and no efforts made by him to stop kissing you, to the point you’re giggling and his arms are tightening around you over the console as you try and move, a playful whine leaving him as your hand tries to grab at the handle to open the door. And then you’re giggling more as you’re squirming out of his grip and dropping down onto the gravel with him practically laying flat over the two seats with an arm outstretched to you dramatically. And you’d gone to wave like normal too when you reached his side window, but you’d noticed it had been wound down and he’d popped out of it like a jump-scare and pulled you back into another kiss that you both chuckled into. As you said, gross. Very, very gross. He even had a fucking magazine in hand to hold over your head to shield you from the drizzle - tooth rotting sweetness that you loved to hate.
And…then you said it.
That’s when the air stilled. When your stomach dropped as though the butterflies that flitted there all evening died and thumped to the pit of it.
“I love you” against his lips.
Like a fool. Like a lovestruck idiot.
And it was out there now with no going back. The secret thriving in the chaos of silence that lasted a second but spaced into hours. It just hung there in the air like the humidity had. Mocking you.
And…you took off. Of course you did. Right into your house - not giving him time to reply, if you think about it, but you had to get out of the suffocation your own words had brought upon you. Straight up the stairs you ran, into your room and when your door was quietly clasped shut, you paced the carpet with wide eyes and a pounding heart, nibbling anxiously at your fingernails.
Him? He was sat unmoving. Heart beating against his chest and it had rooted him to the spot. He hadn’t a clue what to do next, to the point it froze him in time. He couldn’t go after you, you still lived with your parents and he doubted now was a good time to knock. You also seemed to not want to see him right now. Should he call? Not now, it’s late. In the morning? And say what? Over the phone? No.
But it was out there now. In the van that you’d both somehow made your shared space. The words uttered and it couldn’t be undone. Movement coursed through him again as the slow motion seemed to skip back to real-time and catch up with him, bringing him back. He lent back against the headrest, and felt the soft cotton of your cardigan brush his neck.
A smile quirked his lips. That traitor of a dimple cratering in his cheek. He really hoped you’d show up to his van in your little field tomorrow. And god, he prayed that this time he didn’t chicken out.
summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]
contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).
author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!
-
Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.
It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.
So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins.
Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).
He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.
He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:
WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.
He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.
Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.
The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.
"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.
"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."
-
The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.
Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.
And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.
And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.
By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.
"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.
From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.
His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.
Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.
Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.
The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all.
When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.
"Hello?"
He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.
"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"
"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.
"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."
"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.
"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"
"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"
"I'm twenty-three."
You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.
"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."
He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.
"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."
He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.
"Uh, thanks," you say.
Shit.
"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.
You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.
"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"
"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"
"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.
He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.
"Y'still there?"
"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.
"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."
You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.
After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"
"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"
He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.
"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."
You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.
You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."
"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."
Can't argue with that logic.
"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?
"How do you want to do this?"
"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"
"What?"
"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."
"Hah, okay. 1965."
"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"
"Shit, yeah, one sec."
His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.
"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.
"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.
"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."
"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.
"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"
"Eddie. Munson."
"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.
That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.
It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.
There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.
What if you're great?
He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.
He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.
He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.
One hour.
-
He's early.
It's ten to six, and he's early.
The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?
Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.
Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.
"Eddie?"
He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.
You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.
You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.
As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.
You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.
"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.
"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"
He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.
"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."
"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.
"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."
You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.
"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.
He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.
"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.
"What?"
"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"
With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.
"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."
"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."
"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.
"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."
Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.
"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"
"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."
"Oh."
You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.
You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.
Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.
He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.
You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.
"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.
"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."
"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"
"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."
He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"
You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.
"Okay."
"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."
"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"
"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."
"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."
"Okay," you sigh.
"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."
"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.
"So did you grow up here?"
Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.
"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."
"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.
"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."
"And you got the job?"
"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."
"How's that going?"
"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."
He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."
He looks up at you. "Do your worst."
"Did you grow up here?"
"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."
"Why'd you move here?"
"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.
"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."
"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"
"Kind of, but that's also complicated."
"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"
"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?
You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.
"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.
You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.
"Yeah, sorry."
"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"
"We haven't even-"
"Will you?" he presses.
"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.
"Can I ask you something?" he says.
"Mm-hmm."
"Why are you so far away right now?"
He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.
It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.
"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."
He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.
You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.
There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.
"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"
All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.
He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.
"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.
"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."
When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"
You look up at him and nod again.
"I need to hear it, sweets."
You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.
His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.
"Eddie?"
His hand stills and he looks at you.
"Yeah?"
When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.
"I've never been this close to anyone before."
He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.
"That's okay."
There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.
"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"
You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.
It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.
"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"
You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.
"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.
"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.
The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.
When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.
"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.
"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.
"Sure you're okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, yeah, I just-"
"Yeah, take a second."
"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."
You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.
"You alright?"
You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.
"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.
"What do you mean?"
You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"
He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.
"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.
"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.
"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."
"How so?"
He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch.
"I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."
"Okay."
"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"
For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.
"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.
"What does that mean?"
"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."
Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.
"What the fuck, dude?"
You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.
"I didn't-"
"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."
"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."
"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.
You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.
He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.
"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"
You scoff, turning away from him.
"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."
"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."
"Yeah, that. Not this."
"This is part of that."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.
"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"
His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.
He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.
"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."
"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.
"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."
"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."
He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.
"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.
"You're really pretty, you know."
You just look at him.
"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."
"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.
"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.
It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?
"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."
You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.
"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."
"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"
"Yes, but…"
Just like before, the words stall in your throat.
"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.
You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.
"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.
"Go on."
"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"
"That's the definition of a fantasy."
"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"
"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."
"Can I sit on your lap?"
"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.
"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."
"Go for it, baby."
He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.
It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.
"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"
"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.
"'Course you are, here-"
His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.
"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"
"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."
"Oh, for fu-"
He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.
It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.
You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.
You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.
"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.
"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.
"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.
His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"
His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.
"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"
You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."
He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."
The fucking nicknames.
"I know, I just… Can you just-"
You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.
"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."
You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.
"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"
"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."
"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."
"Okay."
You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.
"Shit," he hisses.
"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.
"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."
The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.
This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.
His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.
You trace them with gentle fingers.
"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.
"Okay."
You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.
You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.
As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."
You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."
There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.
He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.
"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"
You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up.
And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.
"Good girl."
Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.
"Good?" he asks.
"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.
"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."
One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"
"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"
"'Course."
"And can I… Can I undo yours?"
"Shit, sure you can."
You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.
He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.
When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.
"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.
"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.
"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.
There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.
You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.
His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.
"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.
"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."
He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.
But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.
"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.
"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.
"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."
You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.
"Christ, yes, okay."
His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.
You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.
"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.
"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.
"Yes, yeah."
Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.
His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.
"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.
"Yes," you respond too quickly.
As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."
"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"
"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.
You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.
Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.
They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.
The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.
He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"
"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.
The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.
The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.
"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"
It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.
"No," you pant, "no, never."
"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."
"Okay," you agree.
He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.
"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"
"No," you bite defensively.
"It's okay."
You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.
"Do you ever…"
Another sigh.
"Do you ever touch yourself?"
There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.
"Yes."
"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"
"I, uh…"
"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."
Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.
It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.
"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.
With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.
You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.
You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.
"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.
You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.
"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.
"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"
His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.
All you can say is, "That was insane."
He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"
"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.
He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.
"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"
It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.
"Uh, yeah, okay."
He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."
"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."
"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."
Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.
"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.
"Yes, ma'am."
Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.
He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.
"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.
"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."
He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.
"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him.
"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"
"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.
It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.
"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."
You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.
So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.
"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"
He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.
"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"
You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.
When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.
With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.
"You got condoms?"
"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."
"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."
His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square.
He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.
It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.
He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"
He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"
You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."
"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"
"Yeah."
There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.
He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.
"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.
"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."
"I've got you."
He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.
The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.
"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.
When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.
"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.
"Yeah."
"Good girl."
He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.
"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."
"Okay."
The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.
As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.
"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"
"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"
Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.
"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."
His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.
"You close?" he asks.
"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.
All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.
There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."
When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"
You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.
The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.
Sighing, he says, "Shit."
You laugh, scrunching your face.
"Yeah," you agree, "shit."
He squeezes your hand.
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah. Really liked it."
"Okay for your first time?"
"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.
"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.
He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.
"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.
There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.
You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.
"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"
"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.
"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."
"Is it a date?"
"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."
"No one's ever asked me on a date before."
He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.
"Well, wanna come?"
"I'd love to."
He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.
He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.
"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.
"You should," he says, a little deflated.
You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.
"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"
"I can go now, if you want-"
"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"
Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.
"I'll stay, if you want me to."
"Yes, please."
He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.
"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.
"I'll be here."
-
"Munson! You made it!"
In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.
He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.
"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.
"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.
Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."
"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.
"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."
"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.
"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.
"Hi."
"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.
Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.
"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.
Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.
And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.
"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"
"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.
"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"
You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.
"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time.
"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."
"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."
The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.
He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.
-
Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
pixelskylines
vaporwave
prguitarman
